#Liam will come around to them; they’re too good a band

[aeolianblues]

Literally most iconic person in rock music right now

[christmassavestheyear]

hello!!! monthly recs just dropped, and BOY have i read some good ones this november. you can check out this months 911 rec list on the tag, and check back at the end of december for next month's! this is the first time i've actually done these as a formatted, planned thing, but i've given out some rec lists before. this month we've got mostly larry, but a little ziam sprinkled in there, even some qpr zouis!

🎤 I've Been Waiting (To Let Go Of Myself) || onlyangelolivia harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.3k After a drunken night in 2024, Harry and Louis get back together for the first time since 2017. It brings about some questions about their relationship and how they'll go forward - if they go forward at all.

🎤 Still Dreamin' Bout You || @ireallysawanangel harry styles/louis tomlinson || 3.1k Harry doesn’t pay much attention to football. That’s proven even more apparent when the biggest football star in the UK walks into his juice bar and he doesn’t even notice. He does start to take notice when that football star keeps coming back.

🎤 limelight || @dehydratedpool harry styles/louis tomlinson || 20k During his first semester at Boston University circa 1989, a shy, socially awkward Harry meets a kind, outspoken Louis. In an attempt to show Louis how he feels, he creates a mixtape of songs. But Harry’s deep anxieties cloud him, and he can’t seem to understand whether or not Louis even wants him around, let alone likes him back. BLFF #175: 80s/90s AU (preferably high school or uni) in which a pining Harry burns Louis a CD with a bunch of love songs on it. With a side of angst please.

🎤 I'd Choose You Over Sleep || @homosociallyyours harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.1k If there's one thing Louis values, it's a bit of sleeping in on the weekends. There's very little she'll let come between her and those few precious hours of the day. Harry might just make her shift her priorities. At least a little.

🎤 Jealous Hearts and Silk Nights || MoneyboxD zayn malik/liam payne || 4k Zayn and Liam show up to dinner mad at each other, but the night takes a turn when a flirty waiter sets his sights on Liam. Zayn? Not having it. Liam? Loving the chaos a little too much. Between jealous glares, smug smirks, and whispered promises, it’s clear this couple knows how to keep things interesting—even when they’re mad.

🎤 this cage was once just fine || @daggerandrose harry styles/louis tomlinson || 3.3k Harry expected Louis’ camaraderie to last only as long as they lived in the same dorm, but when Louis quite literally yelled across the dining hall for Harry to come sit with him the next school year, Harry was pleased to find that Louis’ friendship was more than just forced proximity. Now, hundreds of texts, FaceTimes, and even a week long summer vacation later, Harry and Louis are practically inseparable. Or the one where Harry pines for Louis

🎤 Fall and Rise of 1D || mysquitelouis harry styles/louis tomlinson || 12.5k Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have always shared a complicated bond, hidden beneath years of friendship and tension. As One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour comes to an end, the band unravels—only to discover that management orchestrated their breakup with hidden contracts. Fueled by betrayal, Louis and Harry take legal action, uncovering shocking truths about Zayn’s departure and the manipulation that tore them apart. As the band fights to reunite, Niall and Liam come forward with heartfelt apologies, and Louis and Harry are forced to confront their feelings for each other. Can they rebuild their careers—and their love—while navigating the chaos of a broken band?

🎤 Breathe Me In || niallshouse harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.6k A cold-induced asthma attack lands Harry in A&E and Louis is there to comfort him.

🎤 Trouble up (in hotel rooms) || @larryisinlove harry styles/louis tomlinson || 9.8k “Isn't this room 82?” Louis asked. Because he was confused, because that wasn't Liam, because those serene but serious green eyes intimidated him and because he had never, in all his life, felt as embarrassed as he did in that moment, and he couldn't think of anything else to say. “No,” replied the brown-haired man, in a hoarse voice; perhaps because he had just woken up, or because he was upset, or perhaps a mixture of both. “This is room 28”. “Oh” was all Louis could answer, as he wished that the carpet would swallow him up and make him disappear from probably the most uncomfortable moment of his life.

🎤 Maroon - The Lips I Used To Call Home || Anonymous harry styles/louis tomlinson || 4k The air in the apartment was cold, the cracked window was letting in the bite of winter but they didn’t feel it yet. Their skin was still warm, their bodies humming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. And yet, there was always the question, the one Harry couldn’t escape no matter how far he tried to run from it: Is it really over? Or a Maroon inspired one shot where everything’s uncertain and a tiny bit angsty. Really though, it’s not sad.

🎤 Special Instructions || @haztobegood zayn malik/louis tomlinson || 2.2k He didn’t mean for the drawings to become a thing. But they have. Every Tuesday night around eight o’clock, a take out order from Louis T. appears. Each order has new special instructions, requesting some change to the carefully curated dishes that Zayn has concocted. And every Tuesday night, Zayn doodles a response to those special instructions.

🎤 I'd Rather You (Hold Me) || @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed QPR zayn malik/louis tomlinson || 14.1k It’s just - this isn’t like them. It isn’t like Zayn to dodge his calls for days, not unless he’s seriously incapacitated or dead, but if that were the case, Louis would’ve heard. Because Louis is his emergency contact, for one, and both their families know how much they mean to one another. Someone would’ve called, if something had happened, unless Zayn was dead in his own house, and, oh God, what if Zayn’s dead in his own house and Louis has been mentally calling him a dickhead while he’s rotting on the bathroom floor? Spoiler: Zayn isn't dead. There is however, suddenly a baby.

STATS: # of fics: 12 # of authors: 12 # of words read: 79.5k

[fantastical-euphoria]

this was me at a one direction concert back in 2014. had myself a blast (besides the last half bucketing down rain). little did i realize just how much this band was going to shape my life, and my tenure on this wonderful place called the internet.

i became massively obsessed over all the boys, harry especially. i thought they were always wonderful people, sunshine and happiness all around. just straight up good people.

i always put my faith in harry, louis, and niall. fan testimonies were off the charts, always stating how amazing they were. zayn i questioned for only a time, but i know now that i was reading too much into it and the golden rule has always been to never fully trust anything you read on the internet. i’m wary of this and have been a sceptic in many, many cases/articles.

now, what i never questioned or considered was liam. he was kind of a wild card for me. i initially thought that he, too, had the same wonderful lovely demeanor as the rest of the boys. they’re british lads, young, so typically you’d stereotype them as innocent charming bucks that are too easy to fall head over heels over.

just these past couple years, that image i had formerly painted for liam has since been tarnished. i feel safe in saying that liam did it to himself. he was the igniter of his own downfall. it wasn’t the fans. *it wasn’t maya.* did his former management and current management play some type of role in it? possibly and probably.

still, i’ll echo what millions of others are typing at the moment, this was far too sudden, far too soon. i didn’t expect any of what was being published on the internet to get to his head that fast, let alone that much. the mental toll that this, *all* this, has taken on him, coupled with addiction torment that he has clearly been battling for a few good years now, is probably the most lethal combo out there. it can lead to what the articles were describing. aggression. that’s not the liam that so so many of us knew. it was the drugs. it was the alcohol. it was the mental drainage. still, we know that the past cannot be erased and his actions are still irreversible, and abuse/assault can never be forgiven.

i cannot imagine the weight that’s setting in on his whole family, and his young son who now has to grow up without a father figure in his life. i cannot imagine how his management is feeling right now. but most importantly of all, i cannot imagine how the boys are feeling. they just lost a brother. they will always remember/commemorate him as their lifelong brother. i cannot even BEGIN to imagine them in tuxes at liam’s funeral… if they even decide to show up. i highly doubt zayn or harry will. if anyone, louis and/or niall, because they’ve been the more actively and vocally supportive of him. i expect all of them to post at least some little thing about this, however, knowing their history of being respectful.

as the days, months, weeks, and years pass, we are slowly watching this grim reality of a disintegrating childhood and, at least for me, teenage-hood unfold before our eyes. this definitely has been one of the more devastating blows. as much as i somewhat anticipated it… i never expected it to come so soon.

i know the fact that this will never become a reality will forever haunt us. if one direction hasn’t been scarred enough in their tenure, this will definitely feel like a gaping gunshot wound.

i’m still reeling, and i’m still processing this. for those who have checked in on me, thank you. for those that i’ve checked on, understand that i’ll still be here, with a hand extended, and an ear to listen. we’re all in this together, grieving over such a devastating loss, not just to the one direction community/fanbase, but to the entire world. liam touched a lot of people, not just fans.

if you have any further thoughts on this, feel free to sound off in the comments. this is a safe space for everybody. ❤️

[zot3-flopped]

I don’t actively dislike the other guys from 1D; I’m mostly indifferent, but I sometimes dislike them too. At first, they were all close, especially in those first 1 or 2 years when fame and money were new and the only people who really understood what they were going through were each other. I think there’ll always be some love and understanding between them, for this reason.

But they’re all pretty different. Niall seems like a chill guy. He can be a bit cocky and take things too personally, but he’s not bitter or resentful. He never seemed jealous of Harry (unlike some of them) for being the most liked, and they seem to get along well, which is probably why Harry has kept in touch with him. I’m not super into Niall’s music, but I don’t dislike him; he’s just an averagr guy.

Zayn, on the other hand, comes across as arrogant. He seems to think he’s above the whole cheesy boy band thing. I feel like Harry is smarter and more mature because he embraced 1D, even if he wasn’t a huge fan of their music (the guy listens to Pink Floyd wnd Fleetwood Mac ffs). He used it as a stepping stone to launch his solo career without alienating the fans. Zayn was too focused on breaking out on his own, and in doing so, he sacrificed his relationships with the others, especially Harry, to get a headstart on them. But it still wasn't enough bc he’s irrelevant now.

As for Liam, he was okay on his own(definitely NOT when Louis was around) (during 1d), together with Harry, their dynamic of “brothers who aren't on the same wavelength” was unexpected and lowkey amusing . They weren’t really friends, but they were friendly in a group setting, and I think Liam admired Harry’s charm. After the band, though, that’s another story.

Louis is the one I find most annoying. I don’t actively hate him, but he seems kind of simple-minded and would probably mock anyone who doesn’t fit his idea of “cool.” In group interviews, he and Liam were often unbearable, always interrupting, especially Harry, just for cheap laughs, which was mostly Louis initiating it.

That’s why Harry doesn’t really hang out with them anymore. Beyond their falling outs, they just don’t click, and he can’t be himself around them. And they limit him. Niall, imo, is more easygoing, which is why I think Harry still maintains their friendship.

This is just my perspective on them. I haven’t really followed them after the band, and during their time together, I was mostly focused on Harry, so my opinions might not be the most accurate. I’d love to hear what you think!

Good to hear that you see through the idea spread by Larries that Louis is super smart! 'Simple-minded' is right.

[louisisalarrie]

i don’t know if you have been keeping up with the latest news but apparently many news outlets (ie us weekly, radar online, yahoo, the mirror us, etc) are reporting that the boys have all “rekindled their relationships with each other” and that “they feel closer than they have been in years.” i know the circumstances are horrible and heartbreaking. however it’s comforting to know that they are all leaning on each other for support and even if they never get back together as a band, all i ever wanted was for the boys to still remain close and to be friends with each other.

this also got me also thinking about something. in a way, they are running with the friendship narrative about harry and louis again. i know they included niall and zayn in that but at least they mentioned that harry and louis are still good with each. that’s comforting to know. they kinda starting doing that when harry and louis were both seen at the euros. i know the circumstances are devastating. maybe this might wake the industry up and realize the error of their ways. one can only hope. they had no reason to destroy harry and louis’ public relationship. all these boys deserved so much better.

i hope the boys go after modest management and simon because they are part of the problem. they abused these boys for 5 years straight. the management team and simon are the catalyst for liam’s downfall and liam himself even admitted that. i know the boys will protect liam and his family because they all truly love and adore each other despite what the media says. i’m sure they had some issues with each other over the years but people have to remember they were together 24/7 for 5 years straight. it’s human nature. they were so young. i just hope all four of them take time to grieve and process everything.

I did see this floating around yeah. Obviously, very tragic circumstances, but im really happy to see the boys, and whoever this “source” is, to be out in the open with friendships and holding each other close. Really lovely to hear, and I hope they’re taking care of themselves.

The friendship route is an ideal way for seeding a coming out, but also just fantastic to acknowledge each other and spend time together again in public hopefully. No one in the world understands what those boys went through together, and I have no doubt they have a bond for life. I hope they continue to dispute any narratives of hating each other, and are more open with their friendships, because god it hurts when they’re all so separate from each other, acting like they’ve never met.

I sincerely hope the boys go after the bigwigs too, anon. I hope they take them down one at a time and have the world listen to how they were treated. I want these assholes to be held accountable, lose their empires, make space for more accepting and understanding and caring individuals to take their place. And I think they will, if they aren’t already getting some lawyers involved behind the scenes. I don’t expect anything huge to happen til next year, after Christmas and holidays, but I just feel like idk… there’s this tension. There’s like… somethings brewing. And I hope im right.

[cinemastyles-blog]

What Happens on the Tour Bus, Stays on the Tour Bus

Summary: A Wattpad request by mysticalrosean - “Ok so I was thinking it would be frat boy Harry and what happens is a fan wins like a free pass to spend the day with the band. Then Harry starts flirting with her throughout the day a lot and she does too, then they sleep together in the tour bus??Also can u make it so that Harry is dominant because thats so good haha”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, flirting, biting/hickies, sex with people around, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, slight angst, filth

Master

FRAT BOY HARRY

“Hi, my name is y/n. I won the contest you guys were doing.” You hand the security guard the ticket stating the information and he nods, “Okay. Right this way miss.”

Your nerves are skyrocketing.

You’re about to meet the boys of One Direction.

Harry.

Oh god, you think, I’m about to meet Harry.

Your nerves cause your body to buzz with excitement, the physical shaking is quite noticeable at this point.

“Don’t be nervous, love. They’re harmless.” The security guard jokes and you laugh, “Okay.”

He knocks on the door and you hear the boys yell on the other side.

This is it.

The door opens and there stands Paul, “Yeah?”

“This is y/n. She won the best fan art contest.”

“Oh, yeah. They told us you were coming today.” Paul gives you a smile and turns around to talk to the boys but they’re gone.

“They’re getting on my nerves today.” Paul grumbles with a laugh, “Follow me.” Paul motions for you to follow him and you do.

You walk down the halls of the arena they’ll be performing in tonight.

“Incoming!” You hear one of them yell.

Harry runs and leaps onto Paul’s back, laughing and yelling along with Niall and Louis.

“Harry.” Paul says, trying to stay calm.

Harry’s eyes meet you and he instantly falls off of Paul’s back, brushing off his shirt and crossing his arms, “This the girl who did the drawing?”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his attitude, “Yeah, I am.”

“We absolutely loved it.” Harry smiles and walks over to you holding his hand out, “I’m Harry.” He brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses them to your skin.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks firing up, “Hi Harry.” You smile and look over at Niall and Louis.

“Hey, I’m Louis. Nice to meet you, love. Sick drawing by the way. Best one we’ve seen in a while.”

You smile and nod, “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“No really, you’re incredible. How’d you learn to draw like that?” Niall asks walking up to you, “I’m Niall.”

You nod and shrug, “I just kinda picked up a pencil one day and started drawing.. so I guess I’m self taught?”

“Amazing.” Niall shakes his head, “That’s crazy.”

You laugh and look back over at Harry who has his arms behind his back and his eyes are scanning over your body, “I- I.. um.. I have these for you guys.. Zayn and Liam, too.”

“They’re in the dressing room. I’ll go get them.” Louis walks away yelling for them, “Oi, lads. I need ya!”

“Here is yours, Niall.” You hand the small canvas to Niall and grab Harry’s, “And Harry..” you hand him his canvas and his hand lays on yours. Your eyes meet his and he has a smirk on his lips, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He drags his hand against yours as he takes the canvas, inspecting it with his lip pulled between his teeth, “Beautiful art done by a beautiful girl.”

He winks and Niall smacks his chest, “Harry. Don’t be flirting with her. She just got here, you’ll scare her off.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, “she won’t be going anywhere.”

You bite your lip, knowing he’s right.

Meeting them went a lot different than you ever expected. You and Harry have a connection.

With just a simple touch of his hand on hours, you felt like you belonged to him.

——

“So Niall says you taught yourself how to draw?” Zayn says leaning forward picking up the canvas again to look, “That’s honestly very impressive.”

You smile, “Yeah, I guess I just have a natural talent for it. For some people it’s singing and dancing but for me, I guess it’s this.” You point to the boys’ canvases laying on the table.

“It’s very good. I like it a lot.” Zayn nods in approval and leans back.

Harry can’t keep his eyes off of you. His gaze burns holes through you, constantly keeping you on edge.

“Boys. Sound check in ten.” Paul knocks on the door before he leaves and I look around at them, “So am I here for just a few hours or?”

“You’re here the whole day.” Liam says with a smile, “maybe you can sketch us something to keep on the tour bus while we do this, yeah?”

“I actually didn’t bri-“

You’re cut off by Louis making an off beat drum sound with his mouth and zig zagging a sketch book in his hands, “Ta-Da!”

“Oh you guys shouldn’t have.” You pout and take it from Louis, “This will be dedicated for you guys and you guys only.” You laugh and flip through the pages, “I love getting new sketch books. Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem.”

“Of course.”

“Very welcome.”

“You deserve it.”

“I’m excited to see what you come up with.” Liam says as he stands up, “Alright. Y/N, you can come sit in the seats if you want.”

You nod, “Sounds good.”

You grab your bag and put the sketch book into it. Harry waits for you by the door, watching you.

You turn and stop, a smile playing with your lips.

There’s definitely something there and you both know it.

“Since they’re not around to tell me no.” Harry walks up to you and semi roughly places his lips on yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. The sketch book gets squished between your bodies, but you didn’t mind.

“You’re mine.” Harry whispers against your lips, “Remember that.”

He leans back, his eyes scan over your face, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He smirks and steps back, “After you.”

Star struck, you manage to make your way out of the room and down the hall. Harry walks beside you, his hand brushing against yours every now and then.

“There you are, Styles, What are ya doin, harassing the girl?” Louis asks as he puts his ear piece in.

Harry laughs, “No. I was going to the bathroom.”

He glance over at you and winks. You nod while trying to hide a smirk and walk down the stage and over to the seats. You sit a couple rows back so you can see the stage fully. You prop your feet up on the back of the chair in front of you and rest your gift from the boys on your thighs.

You tap the eraser part of the pencil against the blank page, thinking of how you want to start.

A little while into sound check, your eyes keep meeting Harry’s. He’s sitting on the one platform, leaning forward and his eyes are fixated on you.

You bite your lip, trying to stay focused but his gaze is strong.

You keep looking up at him, smirking and smiling every once in a while, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

You’d stop and listen to them sing, tilting your head, trying to believe that this was actually happening.

You hum along to the song, tapping your eraser against your cheek to the beat.

You and Harry are in a staring contest pretty much, but the only difference is, no one loses if they blink.

“Alright guys, I think we’re all good here. See you at the show.”

They walk over to the side of the stage and file down the steps, running over to you to see what you’ve come up with.

“Wow. Look she even got the detail of the lights.” Louis says pointing.

Niall smacks his hand away, “Don’t touch it, you knit wit. You’ll smudge her work.”

Louis mocks him and rolls his eyes, “Please.”

You laugh and look at your drawing, “it is pretty good isn’t it?”

They all agree.

“Alright. Let’s go get ready for the show. I can hear the fans screaming.” Liam says patting your shoulder, “You can come back and hang out backstage so you’re not caught up in the landslide of that.”

“Okay.” You laugh and stand up.

“They’ll know who you are. You’ll be bombarded with questions and shit.” Zayn says walking next to you, “We don’t want to be overwhelmed.”

“You’ll have a special spot front row.” Niall says pointing, “It’ll be right there.” You look down over the stage to see a small area that’s gated off.

“Oh that’s nice actually. Thank you!” You smile and walk back stage with them.

“You can just hang out back here, there’s snacks and stuff down in that room, help yourself.” Liam points to a room that has a green sign on it and you nod, “thank you.”

A little while later you find yourself in the room, looking over the different snacks. You can feel someone walk in but you don’t pay any attention until you see his arm reach over in front of you, lightly brushing against your boobs, “s’cuse me.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to flirt with fans.” You tease as you look up at him.

Harry smirks, “What they don’t know won’t kill them.” He winks and walks over to the mirror, running his hand through his hair.

You stand there, finding yourself unable to look away from him.

You walk up to him, “That kiss-“

“Is our little secret.” He leans in, “We can have plenty more secrets if you want.”

You smile and rub your hand against your bicep, “Really?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

You bite your lip, looking from his lips to his eyes, “Like what?”

He smirks and brushes hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. He leans in, sucking on a little patch of skin under your ear.

Your legs go weak and a little moan slips from your lips. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you to him as he keep sucking a mark onto your skin.

“Like that.” He moves your hair to cover the darkening mark on your skin, “And us. Sneaking around.” He leans in, his lips brush against yours, “Bringing you into my bunk. Hotel rooms. Anywhere I can have you.”

You stare up at him, your lip pulled between your teeth as you nod, “Anything you say.”

“Where’s Harry?”

He quickly puts his shirt on and walks over to the table of food. You sit down and get out your sketch book, flipping to a clean page and drawing randomly sketched lines.

“What are you doing?” Niall asks, “tormenting y/n again huh?” Niall looks at you, “Sorry about him. He can be a little-“

“He’s not bothering me.” You smile and look back down at your book.

“Mhm.” Niall laughs and you look up. Harry waves and blows you a kiss as Niall pulls him out of the room and you can’t help but laugh.

You sit there, Harry’s words replaying in your head over and over again.

You’re mine, remember that.

You feel like you’re in shock, stunned that Harry wants claim over you, but you also love the fact that Harry is all over you so you’re not going to argue with it, you always believe that Harry is your soulmate.

——

“Thank you so much!” Liam says as the boys line up, “You have been amazing!”

They all say their thank you’s and goodbyes and run off the stage. Harry gives you on last look, smirking before he turns and follows the others.

“Oh my god, it’s her!” A fan gasps, “Oh my god.”

“Y/n!”

“Y/N! How are the boy?”

“Did you draw them anything else?”

You turn and wave to them, “Hi, hello. It’s me. It’s been great. Really fun. The boys are all so funny and sweet. I’ve had the absolute best day of my life.”

Little did you know it’s about to get better.

“What’s Harry like?”

“Y/N, did you get to hug them?”

“Alright, y/n. Come on.” Paul says as he opens the gate for you, “That’s enough guys. Let the girl alone.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Harry is a loon, crazy.”

You laugh and look up at him, “You got that right.”

The fans scream as you walk by. You felt like royalty.

You didn’t know that the fans would get this crazy, but now you do.

“There she is! How was the show?” Louis asks walking up, “Did they ask you weird questions? We see lots of weird questions on twitter.”

You laugh and nod, “Yeah, they knew who I was. I felt almost as popular as you guys.”

“You will be now.” Zayn chuckles and grabs a water, “Just don’t let the hateful comments get to you. Just know that we love ya and that’s all that matters, right babe?”

You smile and nod, your cheeks turning hot with a blush, “Right on that.”

You glance over at Harry who’s glaring at Zayn and you can feel the hate filled daggers coming off of his stare.

You look between them to see if Zayn notices but he doesn’t. You but your lip, anxiously awaiting for them to tell you to go home.

“How about a tour of the bus?” Niall proposes, “Were headed there anyway, might as well give you the run down on the space we share.”

“Please.” You laugh and follow them out.

——

“It was nice meeting you, y/n.” Louis leans in and gives you a hug, “We’ll have to stay in touch. I might have ya draw me up a tattoo design, yeah?”

You nod against his shoulder, “I’d be honored.”

He smiles and heads to his bunk, pulling the curtain shut.

Zayn follows behind, saying his goodbyes and kissing your head, “Nice meeting you.”

Niall hugs you and rocks you from side to side, “We’ll miss ya! We’ll have to get you to come again, today was fun.”

He disappears and Liam hugs you, “Thanks for coming. You’re one talented girl and I know you’ll go far in life. Stay in touch, yeah?”

“Of course I will. Thank you all so much!” You smile and watch as he makes his way to his bunk.

You take a deep breathe and look at Harry who’s sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other.

He motions with his finger for you to come over to him. You slowly get up and walk over to him. He pulls you down onto his lap, sliding his hands on to your waist, “What did I say earlier?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’m yours?” You whisper lowly, and he nods, “Right.”

“They did-“

He cuts you off by roughly kissing your lips. He leans back, “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.” You breathe out, “Harry. I’m yours.”

“Fucking right you are.” He grabs your hips and pushes them down, “Move your hips.”

You grind down onto him and he bites his lip to keep himself from moaning. You can feel how hard he’s getting under you and through his jeans.

“Were going to go to my bunk, you gotta be extra, extra quiet.” He groans lowly as he moves your hair to inspect your neck, “I’m going to make that darker.”

You melt into him.

This feels like it was meant to be on so many levels. It feels so natural. Your nerves melted away as soon as he kissed you for the very first time.

Harry is a very dominant person and you love being his.

A part of you felt like it was some sick joke between the boys, but they really seemed to like you.

“Wait.” You whisper, “This isn’t some weird joke between you guys is it?”

Harry tilts his head and his demeanor goes soft for a minute, “We’d never play with a girls emotions like this y/n. We know how devastating it can be.”

You nod, “Okay. I was just asking. I didn’t really think someone like you would go for a girl like me.”

He shakes his head and rest his hand on your cheek, “You are very, very, and I mean very beautiful. As soon as I knew who won the contest, I did some investigating and I can honestly say that you took my breathe away as soon as I seen your pictures.”

You bite your lip and lay your hands on his cheeks, “You’re my favorite. Always been.”

He smirks and shrugs, his turned on cocky demeanor is back in full effect, “Course I am.”

He leans up, connecting his lips to yours before he leans back, “If we wake anyone up, we don’t get to finish.”

You nod and get up, following him as he leads you to his bunk. He motions for you to climb in first and he gets in behind you, shutting the curtain.

His lips immediately find yours again as his hand slides down your body. His hand slips into the band of your shorts and slide between your skin and underwear.

His fingers find their place at your clit and rub small circles. He presses his lips harder to yours, muffling your moans as best as he can.

Your hands fist his shirt as your whimper against his lips.

He kisses back your jaw, finding the spot he started to mark. His lips pull your skin between his teeth and he bites down, sucking deep colored marks all over your neck.

He doesn’t care if your hair covers it or not.

Your body arches as the pressure on your clit grows harder. “Fuck.” You whisper lowly, “H-Harry.”

You spread your legs more, indicating you wanted his fingers further down.

He picks up on the signal and slides his fingers down between your folds, slipping them inside of you, moaning at how wet you are, “Fuck. I can’t wait to be in this pussy.”

You turn your head, finding his lips as you rock your hips against his hand, “fuck.”

He groans lowly against your lips, pushing his bulge into your thigh. Your hand slides down, cupping him. You give him a gentle squeeze and start to undo his jeans.

“Let me get you off first then we can do that.” He nudges his nose against your cheek, “I want you gagging on my dick but not here. Too loud.”

You nod and take your hands away, sliding them up to his hair. You grab his hair, tugging slightly as you feel yourself growing closer.

You bite down on your lip hard to try and keep yourself contained.

“Come on, love.” Harry whispers, “Cum for me.” He kisses across your neck, nipping and licking the skin, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

You’re panting at this point, “s-shit.”

Harry brings his other hand up, shifting so he can cover your mouth.

You clench around his fingers and arch your body into his as you cum. You whimper and moan into his hand as he fingers you through your high. He moves it and instantly crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans as fast as you get them out.

His thrusts slow down and he pulls his hand out of your shorts, “You’re going to feel so good around my dick.”

His words alone could make you cum again.

You pick back up on undoing his jeans again, “I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.” You kiss him as you slip your hand into his pants.

He kicks off his jeans and kicks them down to the bottom of the bunk, “Roll over.”

You roll over so your back is facing him and he pulls your shorts down. You bring your one leg out of them and his arm instantly hooks under your leg and lifts it up.

He pulls it to him, holding you tight as the tip of his cock rubs against your folds and you gasp, waiting for him to slide in.

He reaches down between you both, grabbing his cock to steadily slide it inside, “Quiet as a mouse, baby. Don’t want to stop now.”

You grip the blanket, biting down on it to muffle the moans you’re trying so hard to keep quiet as he pushes his cock into you.

He lays his head forward, his finger tips dig hard into your thigh as he sits there for a second, taking in the feeling of being inside of you.

“Fuck, y/n.” He groans, “You feel so good.”

You push your hips back, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll wake everyone up.

He slips his arm under your head and holds your leg steady as he starts to slowly thrust, being carful not to make too much noise.

You tilt your head back, lips parted as he whispers dirty stuff in your ear, “I knew just by looking at you I needed to know what you felt like.”

He moves his arm so his hand lays on your throat, squeezing gently as he thrusts are slow and deep into you. The angle he has your hips at, allows you to feel every inch of him. The tip of his cock brushes around that perfect spot every single time.

Your leg starts to shake as you reach behind and grab onto his hip, “I’m so close.” You quietly gasp out, so low he barely heard.

“Me too, wait f’me.” He lets go of your throat and lays his hand on your chest. His hand kneads your one boob as he pushes his cock into you fully, feeling you clench around him.

You hold your breathe, trying hard to hold back the orgasm that is desperately trying to get free.

His cock continues to thrust in and out, painfully slow.

“Fuck. Let it go.” He groans and digs his fingers deeper into your skin.

Your body tenses and you lay your other hand over your mouth, muffling the moans that your orgasm is ripping away from your body.

He came sooner than he thought he would.

Oops.

He finishes pumping his cum onto your hip and quickly brings a part of the blanket up and wipes it off before it runs down your back side.

You shimmy your shorts up your legs and lift your hips to pull them up. He puts his boxers back on and lays down facing you.

“I may have came a little inside.” He chuckles slightly, “I’m sorry I-“

“No it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m on the pill.” You assure him as you lay down facing him. He nods and stares at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

After a few moments, he brushes hair from your face, “Don’t go. Please.”

You pout slightly, a part of you feeling sad at his words, “I really don’t want to.”

Harry leans in and kisses your forehead, “Well figure it out.”

——

So I’m thinking about doing a part 2 to this? Something along the lines of y/n and Harry get caught on the tour bus because there’s some fans poking around the fences and the secret gets out?

I don’t know let me know what you think 👀

As always, if you have any request, send them here.

I have three or four other requests in progress!

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Hello! Happy 28th! Very excited to share my March 2023 fic rec! All of the fics below are so amazing. In no particular order, enjoy!!! 

Golden by shaylea (128k)

Harry is fully dressed when Louis returns to the room. He’s slumped on the edge of the bed, fingers twining awkwardly around the edge of his pink flounces. “Can I come?” he blurts when Louis opens the bathroom door. Louis freezes. “What?” “North. With you,” Harry clarifies. “If you’re going north, could I come too?”

On a rainy night in Auckland in the middle of his world tour, popstar Harry Styles loses his ability to carry on. Instead of continuing to Sydney and the rest of his tour, he seeks sanctuary with Louis Tomlinson, a man with a macadamia nut farm and a mysterious past.

I’ll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey / @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

Wild Love by purpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

Part one of Wild Love

Never Slows Down by purpledaisy / @harrydaisy (28k)

“Maybe we should just have one place instead,” he says. “Just move in together.” It’s heavier out loud, the first time either one of them has made an outright mention of it.

Harry keeps his back turned, the running water of the sink the only sound. Louis wants to say something stupid, something like, “Just kidding,” or, “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” but he doesn’t. Now, out loud, lingering, he doesn’t want to change the words he’s just said or the implication.

It must only be a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime before Harry turns off the water and turns to face him again. He swallows and shrugs, “Uh, yeah, maybe.” He meets Louis’s eyes only briefly before checking his watch. “We should go soon,” he says turning to leave the kitchen. “I’ll grab you a jacket.”

Part two of Wild Love

Being of the Jealous Kind by zita17 / @louisandtheaquarian (24k)

A-list actor Louis Tomlinson and his partner fashion photographer Harry Styles weather the storm that is Louis’ fake relationship with his costar in the lead up to this year’s Academy Awards.

Featuring a fluffy teenage meet-cute, an angsty wine drunk Harry melting down over pap pics, Louis habitually overusing the word “baby,” and cameos by a vintage Umbro sweatshirt, the peace ring, and one hell of a Larry hug.

Or the justice for To Be So Lonely fic. Based on the lyrics to TBSL and a prompt where “Louis has to fake date some celebrity, while his boyfriend Harry sits at home.”

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball by you_explode (10k)

Freedom. Harry’s not sure what exactly it means anymore. For him, for Louis. Personally. Professionally. Musically. There are so many layers to it, and it feels like as he gets older, the thicker those layers become.

Non-AU. A brief look at 2020 and the journey Harry and Louis are on with their careers and closet. Inspired by the Devil card.

Drifting, Weightless by dinosaursmate (45k)

“We’ve been asked to do a gig,” Niall said slowly. “Harry and Liam are completely up for it, I am too.” “Alright. What’s the catch?” Louis asked with suspicion. “It’s, um…” Niall cleared his throat. “So, Juliana was contacted by this themed cruise company, and they want us to do a four-day One Direction cruise.” The words hung in the air as Louis’ right eyebrow slowly crept up and he fixed Niall with a stare. “Absolutely not.” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’re essentially asking me to go on a working holiday with my ex. Stranded on a boat in the ocean for four days.” “Cruise ships are huge! You don’t have to see him in your down time.” --- Harry and Louis are exes with benefits until they're not, and the Mediterranean Sea might just be the perfect place to work through some unresolved issues.

[storyshark2005]

Fic Excerpt - Part IV of "Been and Gone" series. Lunch with Uncle Liam.

I should be writing but it's hard so I'm wasting time making a silly banner for a fic excerpt so ENJOY some boozy lunch with Uncle Liam and the girls:

They all laugh, and Molly waves for another round of drinks. Anais pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of him and Molly, and then comes around for a selfie with all three of them. 

“I’ll tag you both,” she promises, tapping away.

The sun breaks out from a bank of clouds overhead, and Liam wonders if Noel’s awake yet. If he’s got the curtains pulled shut like a dark cave, or if he was stirring fitfully in a mess of sheets, caught in a knife beam of sunlight.

“What’re they like?” Liam asks after a couple of drinks. 

Anais hums and sits back, smiling at her thoughts. “Well, let’s see. Donovan’s like...he’s a bit quieter. Internal. Really sweet, and thoughtful. And creative, he’s always been really good at drawing, and artsy stuff. He plays a lot of video games, adventury-y type ones.”

“Is he into music?”

“I mean...not really. Not like Dad. I think Dad wishes he’d sort of catch on to something besides his computer to be interested in. But he’s still young. He’ll figure it out.” 

“Bit of a daydreamer, then?” 

“Yeah,” she nods.

“That was our Noel.” Liam feels himself smile; he can still see Noel at seventeen, in his narrow little bed with his headphones plugged into the stereo, the window open to let out the thick, curling wheels of smoke. Eyes half-closed, drifting somewhere a thousand miles from Manchester, from Liam, from everyone.

“And Sonny’s the opposite. He’s like me-- super outgoing, energetic, always talking, chatting away. Dad always says he could make friends in a bucket.” She laughs. “He goes through these little obsessions-- for a while Dad was so excited, ‘cause he was really getting into the guitar. He had a few mates from school, and they all got together and did this talent show gig where they played ‘Bang a Gong’, by T-Rex. And Dad was like...freaking out, he was so excited! I think he thought they were doing Cigarettes and Alcohol for a few seconds.” 

Molly grins, shakes her head. “That’s so sweet.” 

Anais rolls her eyes. “But now it’s just football, football, football. Actually it’s really good, because he’s got football camp all summer to keep him distracted. I sort of wish Donovan would find something to keep his mind off of things. 

“But anyway, yeah. Sonny just wants to be Erling Haaland when he grows up.” 

Liam had stayed at home with Paul and the boys to watch the championship, not up to the stress of hobbling around the Etihad, and with him and Noel in the same place, it would have been a madhouse. But he’d seen the pictures of Noel holding Sonny over his shoulders, his tiny, joyous little face. 

He remembers a couple of weeks after he was born. Almost a year after the band broke up, Liam had thought things couldn’t get worse with him and Noel; and he hadn’t minded so much, because he was still so angry. But he remembers picking up a photo from his mother’s coffee table: Noel in the hospital holding a little bundle of blue, Donovan standing at his knee tugging on Noel’s trousers. A strange second where he’d almost forgotten everything that had happened, and nearly asked out loud, why didn’t he call me, he forgot to call because Noel had been the first person Liam had called after Lennon, after Gene. 

“D’you think they’ll like me?” 

It sort of slips out. He’s still not all there, still thinking about the blue bundle in Noel’s arms, about the end of the band; Liza in New York, and Nicole next to him on the sofa asking him, where are you? It’s like I don't even know you anymore. Life all splintered up into pieces, and none that really fit together.

Anais puts her fork down, mouth pulling fondly to one side, knowingly, like she had a secret. “Uncle Liam. They’re going to love you.”

He doesn’t know if he believes her, but it’s too dear a thought, too much to wish for and too far away. He’s got to figure Noel out first, and Noel’s got to figure Sara out, and somehow, somehow, they’ve all got to make it through in one piece.

[heliads]

Saving You

Based on this request: “A Jordan Parrish x reader one-shot based on this prompt: “So, you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?” “No. That girl is my wife”? Reader is Parrish’s wife, part of the pack, and a witch.”

masterlist

If you were a human here, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of anything. Smoke seems to drench the air, clogging up lungs and eyes alike with a choking gray thickness. If you listen hard, you can hear the sound of distant screams, probably coming from other floors of the hospital. The lighters flicker on and off intermittently, meaning that there’s zero total visibility no matter how hard you look. However, Jordan Parrish isn’t human. Not in the slightest.

That’s why he’s able to look beyond the fear and the confusion of everyone else and focus instead on the sound of footsteps, the heartbeats echoing around him. Yes, the general scent of terror calls to him, clinging to his skin like the smoke, but he can’t dwell on it, not now. He has a battle to face, a fight to win. There are people counting on him to look beyond the immediate concerns, to help them defeat the hunters. This is what matters, not the way the smell of death calls to the hellhound lurking beneath his skin.

Parrish hasn’t had many years to deal with the supernatural beast who also seems to share his soul, just a couple of months and far too many dangerous encounters for him to sleep as well at night. However, there are times when he’s grateful for it, like right now. Something about having glowing eyes, claws and fangs, and the ability to summon up a fire-cloaked, practically unbeatable exterior comes in pretty handy when there are scores of hunters trying to kill him.

The hunters clog almost every turn of the hallways, far too many for the McCall pack to take on. That’s why they’d called him here at first, hoping that Parrish would be able to help turn the tide and let the ragtag band of wolves and high schoolers evacuate the hospital safely, but like most of the endeavors started by Scott and Stiles, it doesn’t seem to be that easy. The hunters are showing up in droves, and Parrish can only do so much without adding to the pile of corpses that seems to haunt him whenever he closes his eyes. Scott agrees with him that he should kill as few as possible, but that’s hard when the fire spirit lingering in his veins seems to thrive on bloodshed.

So, he lets fire race up and down the halls, blocking off the hunters’ attacks and creating diversions so Scott and the others can stay alive. The hunters had first shown up at the hospital to threaten not only Scott’s mom but Liam Dunbar’s stepfather, hoping that the double attack would provoke the famously uncontrollable beta into making mistakes. The rest of the pack had followed the two werewolves to the hospital, helping to get everyone out safely. Now, the innocents have been removed from the scene. The only problem is that Parrish and the others are stuck near the top of the building, too high up to jump from a window and stopped from leaving through the front door by a swarm of overly trigger-happy hunters.

There’s a crashing sound, and Parrish turns to see Stiles slump down next to him, taking up a defensive position behind a row of cabinets that had been former homes to countless rows of medication and test tubes. Now, they’re half scrap metal themselves, smoking at the edges. Parrish can only hope that the hospital has really, really good insurance- they seem to need it all the time. 

“We’re going to have to make a final attack. Scott and Lydia think there’s a chance we can get out, but the group in front of the stairs and elevator is too big right now. We have to find a way to get by them.”

Parrish nods, standing up and moving methodically to the exit. Stiles watches him go, noting the way his eyes light up with an unnatural fire as always. Embers and scorch marks rise to his skin as the fire burns through Parrish’s body once more, and he’s barely taken a few steps out of the door before he has to use his abilities. There’s a group of hunters trying to patrol the hallway, looking for the pack, and Parrish coolly raises a fist, knocking them back with a series of blows that leave more burns than bruises. 

Once the hellhound has managed to stave itself off from complete destruction of the retreating hunters, Parrish turns back to Stiles, who has managed to pull himself out from behind the meager shelter of the melted medicine cabinet. 

“Nice showing, fireboy, but that was a small group. There are way more waiting below.” 

Parrish shrugs. “We’ll get there when we get there. Come on- is everyone else ready?” 

Stiles nods, then frowns, his brow furrowing. It’s strange to see such a serious look on a boy who usually prides himself on never straying far from his always joking mindset.

“I thought you said you could get reinforcements. Where are they- I thought we were all here?” 

The two of them walk towards the stairs, and Parrish is about to answer when he notices something on a bench next to them. It’s not scorched or riddled with bullet holes, so it’s clearly been placed here recently. As he walks closer to examine the strange package, Parrish realizes it’s a set of fresh clothes. A note has been affixed to the top: See you soon. Don’t worry. 

It’s not labeled with a name, but Parrish smiles nonetheless, knowing at once what it means. He grabs the clothes, pulling them on over the mostly burned shreds that had once been a deputy’s uniform. 

Stiles points questioningly at the note and clothes. “What was that about?” 

Parrish fights the urge to grin like a lunatic. “You’re about to find out. It looks like our reinforcements are right on time.” 

Stiles pauses a second longer, still mulling this over in his head, then shrugs and jogs to keep up with Parrish. “Whatever. As long as we live through this, you can be as mysterious as you like.”

Parrish and Stiles meet up with the rest of the pack one floor down, next to the doors. There’s practically a platoon of hunters waiting for them in front of the locked entrance, guns out and teeth bared as if they were wolves themselves. Scott and the others linger one hallway over, not wanting to reveal themselves and start the bloodbath before they’re ready. 

Scott rushes over the second he sees them. “What do we do? There’s no way we can distract enough of them to get out in time.”

Parrish just shrugs, unable to stop a half smile from creeping onto his face. “We don’t have to. Reinforcements are here.” 

He nods his head towards the group of hunters, which are starting to turn in confusion to face a woman walking in their direction. She’s emerging from the rows of now-empty medical rooms, looking to all the world as if she was just a lost and confused patient.

The hunters frown, although one of them tosses a pinch of wolfsbane toward her to check if she’s a werewolf. 

The woman remains unaffected, although she pretends to give them an affronted glare as she brushes the purple powder from her sleeve. “Rude. Do you cover everyone you meet with mystical dust or just random people in the hospital you’re attacking?” 

One of the hunters scoffs, overconfident now that he knows she’s not a werewolf. “We’re not attacking. We’re defending the town from abominations. You should go now, before you get hurt.”

The woman tilts her head to the side, utterly unbothered. If the hunters had even a scrap of brains between them, they’d be running for the hills. Unfortunately for them, they don’t quite know the incredibly fascinating woman known as Y/N L/N, and so they stay where they are. 

The one who had spoken before gestures towards the door behind him. “Go. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Y/N laughs, the sound low in her throat. It echoes through the empty hospital antechamber, and more than a few of the hunters shiver slightly as if they’re finally realizing that they’ve really, really messed up. 

“Actually, I think that you’re the ones who should go. I’ll give you one warning to leave.” 

More of the hunters turn towards her, now annoyed instead of just humored. “Funny, girl. Hit the road before we get bored and shoot you too.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, smile evaporating on her lips. “Oh, really? Well, at least I can say that I gave you a warning, not that you deserve it.” 

A few of the hunters must finally be realizing that something is going wrong, because they jerk their weapons towards her, about half a dozen gun barrels pointed her way. Y/N remains completely unaffected. For all she gives off, they might as well be directing water guns her way instead of military-grade rifles.

Then she stretches her hands in front of her as if preparing for a race. “I think it’s time that you left.” 

Y/N flings her palms out in front of her, arms extended. A sudden wind erupts around the hunters, strong enough to rip doors off of their hinges and shatter the glass of the locked doors behind the hunters. The men and women are knocked over by an invisible force, and even from here Parrish can hear the sound of bones breaking as they’re pulled through the doors.

Parrish can’t see where the hunters end up, only that they’re shoved far, far away. It’s as if the gales of a tornado have suddenly flared out into the hospital, directed by Y/N with the grace and strength of a conductor. If you focus on her, you could feel a rush of power, like she could tear apart the earth. She almost has, just now when she forced the hunters aside. It’s one of the reasons Parrish fell in love with her, moments like this when she looked at him through the dark and he didn’t feel afraid to hurt her because of his history as a hellhound, when she seemed like the only woman on the planet. He’d been called to her before, because of her smile and the way they could talk together for hours. This, though, is an entirely different reason to stay.

Scott and Stiles stare at her in awe. They stand where they are as if they’ve forgotten how to move. Parrish, however, doesn’t share in their hesitation, and he walks through the hallway to Y/N, who turns to him with a smile. 

“Nice show, love. Very impressive.” 

Y/N laughs, the sound ringing through the destruction of the hospital lobby with the sweet song of a dove. “Thank you, I was practicing my showmanship. Did it pay off?” 

Parrish joins her in a grin. “Absolutely.”

The rest of the McCall pack has finally remembered themselves, picking their way through the rubble to where Parrish and Y/N stand together. Lydia looks amazed, and she keeps glancing between Y/N and her own hands as if wondering whether or not she could do the same. Y/N turns to Lydia with a piercing gaze as if she could read the girl’s thoughts. To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise Parrish if she could. 

“No, I’m not a banshee. I’m a little different.”

Lydia looks disappointed for a second, then looks at Y/N in confusion. “Then what are you? No offense.” 

Y/N grins. “None taken. I’m a witch, minus the pointy hat, although I do have a pretty good spellbook. All witches have a Grimoire, and once we memorize the spells for different tasks, we can use them whenever we want. That, for example, was a spell over the winds and air.” 

Stiles nods slowly. “Can anyone learn, or just witches?”

Parrish snorts. “Stiles, you’re a great guy, but I think if you learned magic, the entire town would have to go into lockdown.” 

Y/N glances over at him, a barely concealed laugh dancing behind her eyes. “Such glowing praise. I can see you two are good friends.” 

Parrish rolls his eyes. “Oh, we’re great.” His hand reaches down to wrap around Y/N’s, a gesture that goes unnoticed by the supernaturally charged eyes of Malia Hale.

“You know, you never actually told us who you are. Are you two, uh-” 

Y/N laughs again, and Parrish can’t help but smile when she does. She’s been out of town for a while on strict witch business. He’s missed her a lot. 

“I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N. I met Jordan a while back, before either of us knew he was a hellhound. We’ve been together ever since.” 

Stiles stares. “So you’re saying that girl is your girlfriend?”

Something almost like pride sparks in Parrish’s chest, and he has to take a moment to remind the hellhound’s voice inside his chest to back off. “No, that girl is my wife.”

If possible, Stiles’ jaw drops even further. Y/N is clearly enjoying this, and holds up her left hand to show off the ring glinting on her fourth finger. Parrish can’t help but smirk to see it, the way the entire pack is now staring at him with a mixture of awe and slight jealousy. They can’t help it- Y/N is amazing, absolutely amazing. And, to make it better, she’s his.

Y/N allows this to go on for a second longer, then claps her hands together. “Alright, if you’ve all had your fill of gawking and questioning your life decisions, I’d like to get out of here. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t particularly enjoy hanging around in hospitals, especially when the hunters could come back at any moment.” 

As the pack starts to disperse, Parrish wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, the two of them walking out together.

“So, you’ve met the pack. What do you think?” 

Y/N smiles up at him, the moonlight making her eyes shine like stardust. “They’re not bad. They seemed a little surprised to meet me.” 

Parrish chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “They’re just stunned that someone as incredible as you would willingly hang out with us. We’re a little rough around the edges, I hear.” 

Y/N smiles. “That’s what makes you so fun.” 

Parrish leans down to kiss her, and he can’t help but feel that he may be one of the luckiest men or hellhounds to ever walk the earth.

requested by @thornyrose463

teen wolf tag list: someone who’s supernaturally amazing @underc0vercryptid​

[stopeatingwhales]

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 7 June ‘21

Liam’s podcast with Steve Bartlett is out and while I still don’t care about that guy I’ll give him this-- he does great at getting out of the way and letting Liam talk. And boy does Liam talk! Liam says A LOT and let’s all just pause to send him some big hugs before we get into right? And then look to the future- Liam’s routine is to say ‘things have been terrible but it’s fine, it’s fine NOW’, always, even when that is absolutely obviously not true, and today is no different but for once I actually believe some of his hopeful bits too which is so great! I hope things really are shifting for him and I can’t wait to hear this new song of his. But there’s a lot that’s hard to hear too, oh Liam. He said that he and Maya have broken up (so yes, presumably why he just moved again such a short time after they moved into their haunted house), talked about his struggles with his alcoholism (and said he’s been sober for a month right now, go babe!), shared the usual distressing stories about his time in the band and what that was like for him (and how it still impacts him), and he talked about his new song and how it feels different for him than his past solo music. Truly though there is SO MUCH more than I can get into here or then you can get from the UA highlights- I HIGHLY recommend actually watching at least parts of the video, also because the attempt to summarize so much erases all the charm and humor, of which there is much. If you don’t think you want to watch Liam’s interviews, it has to be because you aren’t watching Liam’s interviews, they’re delightful! Plus really if you care about 1D and want information about what it was like for any of them, listen to Liam, he’s the one who’s out there talking about it.

About Maya he said, that yes, he is now single, and “I’ve just been not been very good at relationships,” and “I’m a proper perfectionist… at the start of the relationship you put out this complete false character like I might as well go in in costume, I’m like putting out something that is not there... kind of like encompassing someone else’s life with your crap rather than just doing your thing and laying out your store from day one. That’s my biggest problem is that I feel like I don’t lay out my store... and then I’m annoyed when they don’t like what I like,” and “I think my problem is I struggle to be on my own sometimes... I dive in and out of relationships too quickly. I’ve not spent enough time on my own to relearn about myself.”

He laughs about his tendency to ask his manager things during interviews; “My fans think that Steve is doing something to me, they’re like liberty for Liam because he always looks to Steve, but that’s because I like him. It’s not because he’s harming me as a person. There’s like a hashtag Liberty for Liam because they think I’m some like prison child,” and he also said “my manager’s my best friend,” (and he’s said in the past he is a big support for him) and mentioned stuff they’d talked about recently around his therapeutic awakenings.

He talked about therapy being something you have to want to do and be ready to do rather than being pushed into, like getting sober, and says that this time around with his own therapy work he’s really felt that and thrown himself into it and he talked a lot about his relationship to therapy in connection with band days. “I mean one of our old managers went to therapy from being a manager of One Direction. So if you can imagine how that feels like the rest of us definitely need some.”

“We were young,” he said, “What I found was I didn’t know I was the boss until like a few months ago, I still don’t even feel like I am now, like I’m such a child. And everyone I work with now is older than me and wiser than me and I’m like what the hell am I doing here with these people. When we were 17 I thought the security guard was like in charge of me so I was like Can we leave the room? No? Oh ok then,” and “when we were in the band, the best way to secure us was just lock us in our rooms. And of course what’s in the room? Minibar. So at a certain point, I thought Well I’m gonna have a party for one and that just seemed to carry on throughout many years of my life... You know I spoke to somebody about this in child development as a teen, the one thing you need is freedom to make choices. That we could do anything we wanted it seemed from the outside but we were always locked in a room at night and then it would be car, hotel room, stage, sing, locked. So it’s like they pulled the dust cloth off, let us out for a minute, but then it’s back underneath again,” and “the day the band ended I was like thank the lord for that. And I know a lot of people are going to be mad with me for saying that, but I needed it to stop. It would kill me.” Anyway, he said, because it wouldn’t be Liam without an upbeat coda, “I don’t want any of this to get lost in translation. I’m not 100% moaning about my life... it’s had its ups and its downs, but I would rather talk about it and it’s therapeutic for me.”

And what about that exciting new song? Liam said, “We have a really cool song in the pipeline... one of the first ones I’ve actually written myself- with some other people, I didn’t write it by myself, but it’s the first one I’ve really liked. And I think I got so used used carting around other peoples songs and not embedding myself creatively in what I do because I was so scared to find out who I was,” and “I don’t really know how I would tour again. I really want to” [on discord today he said he would be touring next year] “I always said throughout my solo career I’d let my song book speak to me. And I don’t think my song book spoke to me to get off my ass. I only became a solo artist because I had Strip That Down. I wasn’t gonna do it, I was gonna leave it alone. I was like, I survived it once thank you very much- but I’m back in now. Because the song, I knew it was right. It felt right with that song, I hadn’t had that. This year, the song we have I feel really really great about. So I’d rather let the music do the talking than me come out and force it. We don’t need any more useless music in the world, it needs to mean something,” and he mentioned the new song on the discord a lot too, most notably picking out a long comment that thanked him for making the fan feel supported and safe and for “putting your heart in everything you do” and for his support of the LGBTQ community to respond to with, “I think you will really like the new song.”

A few other random bits, he said that he thinks there should be a system to make therapy available to musicians in the industry, “I think I’m definitely gonna get a dog because I need routine,” and “I recently started jujitsu,” yeah you and everyone else huh, so do him and Louis and Oli go to the same gym or ???, and he acknowledged that as an addict he may have just transferred that to working out “but there’s a lot worse things to be addicted to then looking after yourself” hmm but he does seem to say that he’s doing better around body image stuff; he talks about having put on weight during lockdown and seeing himself in the BAFTAS performance- “I saw myself... and I was like ‘oh my god I’ve completely let myself go in this’. And it was fine...I feel so much more secure in myself now.” Oh and that he’s written a comedic movie script “based around AA” and his experiences there, such as how “I had a really weird AA experience the first time that I went. My first experience was with Russell Brand.” LMAO yes! Cannot wait, bring on auteur Liam please! Anyway as if ALL THAT wasn’t enough he’s also dove into the lead up to his NFT release; he said “I'm almost ready to share my NFTs with you guys... Who wants to see them?” and posted a tiny preview that tells us its (their?) title for the first time- Lonely Bug.

Niall and Anne Marie perform on Jimmy Fallon tonight, and the hype is already a go! I guess it’s prerecorded, as we’re already seeing pictures from it; they’re singing to each other with the cute car from the video in the background. Niall signed on to a letter to Boris Johnson asking for changes to music streaming revenue rules and signed by 232 artists (including all the artists Johnson recently named as his favorites, haha). Zayn signed on to a Billboard petition to the US senate calling for gun safety laws. The bar Zayn got into the fight in front of posted “Zayn's a regular at Amsterdam Billiards and he is a true gentleman. On Thursday night he was confronted by an inebriated passer-by outside on the street and was called a homophobic slur. We support Zayn & condemn homophobia in the strongest terms!” And also PS omg again because it just isn’t going away: Harry’s beauty company is called Pleased As, his name is Harry Edward Styles so yes when listed last name first, as legal documents do, it spells SHE but it is not a “feminist abbreviation” (WHAT? even??) nor the name of the business.

[hotwings0203]

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

 It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

 You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. 

 Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

 ¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

 ¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

 ¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

 ¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

 ¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

 At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

 He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

 ¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

 Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

 ¨No way.¨

 ¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

 ¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

 ¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

 You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

 ¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

 It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

 ¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

 ¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

 You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

 Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

 Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

 When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

 So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

 The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

 Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

 You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

 Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

 Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

 Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

 Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

 Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

 You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

 After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

 Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

 Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

 From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand. 

 ¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

 ¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

 You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

 Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

 Damon barely acknowledges you.

 He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

 You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

 Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

 And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

 Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally. 

 Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn�� be sure.

 Everyone except Damon Albarn.

 The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

 ¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

 ¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

 Until he spoke.

 ¨Is this your first time playing?¨

 You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures. 

 ¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

 ¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

 But nonetheless, you don't back down.

 ¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

 ¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

 ¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

 ¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

 The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

 ¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

 You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

 ¨I didn´t-¨

 ¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

 You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

 The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

 Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

 He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

 It's quiet for a moment.

 ¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

 ¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

 You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

 ¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

 Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

 ¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

 ¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

 Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

 You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

 Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

 Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

 You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

 Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

 The obsidian glass rolls down.

 ¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

 Oh.

 ¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

 ¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

 ¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

 ¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

 ¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

 ¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

 You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky. 

 He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

 You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

 The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

 You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

 ¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

 ¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

 ¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

 Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨ 

 He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

 You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

 You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

 ¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

 Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

 ¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

 You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

 ¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

 Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

 Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

 But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

 ¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

 ¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

 What a save.

 *******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

 But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

 ¨You´re late.¨

 ¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

 ¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance. 

 The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

 It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

 During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship. 

 Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

 Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

 Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

 For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you. 

 Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

 ¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

 ¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

 Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

 ¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

 ¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

 His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

 ¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

 ¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

 Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

 ¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

 Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

 ¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

 You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

 The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

 Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

 Take right now, for instance.

 As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

 You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

 Weather-2

You-0

 You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

 And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

 The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

 All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

 ¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

 Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

 Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

 You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier. 

 ¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

 Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

 He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

 ¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

 He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

 He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

 For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

 ¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

 He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

 ¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

 But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

 ¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

 Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

 ¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

 You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

 ¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

 ¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

 There it was again, pretty woman.

 You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

 ¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

 Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

 He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

 You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

 ¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

 He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

 ¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

 He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

 But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

 ******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

 So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

 The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

 No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

 ¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

 ¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

 You feel your smile drop a smidge.

 ¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

 But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

 Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

  Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

 ¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

 ¨Damon!¨

 You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

 Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

 ¨Get out.¨

 ¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him. 

 ¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

 Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

 You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

 It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

 ************

 It's nighttime.

 The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

 Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

 Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall. 

 The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

 Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

 ¨Looking for something?¨

 You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

 ¨D-Damon?¨ 

 ¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

 You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

 ¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

 ¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

 You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

 He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

 You can´t help the scoff that escapes you. 

 ¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

 He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

 It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

 ¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the  door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

 A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

 ¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

 You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

 His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

 ¨You smell so good.¨

 ¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

 He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

 ¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

 You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

 ¨We can´t.¨

 ¨Sure we can.¨

 You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

 ¨You´re not worth this.¨

 ¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

 And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

 You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

 ¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

 You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

 But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

 You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

 He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

 ¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

 You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

 It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

 ¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

 ¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

 He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

 But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

 His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

 ¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

 You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

 With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

 You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

 ¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

 Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

 Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

 You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

 He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

 ¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

 Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

 You want to run your hands through his hair.

 ¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

 ¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

 Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

 ¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

 Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

 He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

 You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

 It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

 And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

 He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

 Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

 ¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

 Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

 You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

 It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

 He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

 For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

 He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

 ¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops. 

 You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

 ¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

 ¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

 ¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

 He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

 It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

 You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

 ¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

 He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

 ¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

 ¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

 ¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

 ¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

 Halfway?

 Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

 Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

 His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

 He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

 Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary. 

 You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

 It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

 You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

 ¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

 ¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

 It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

 Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

 He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

 Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

 Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

but we’re still young || h. styles

warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to alcoholism, swearing, brief mentions of death, sexual references, discussions of infertility, googled medical diagnoses, breakup, references to covid, not really proofread

word count: 7.2k

summary: anecdotes of a relationship destined to collapse...

01 march, 2013

“Just talk to her, man!” Liam yelled over the deafening music of the club. Harry sighed, his eyes drifting between the drink in his hands and you. You were dancing with your friends, laughing as the skinny girl tripped over her own feet. Snapping his eyes away from you, he glanced across at Liam, “Bit creepy, though, isn’t it?”

“You have been staring at her for the past five minutes. That’s creepier than just talking to her,” Liam shrugged, patting Harry on the back. 

The band had been given the night off. Finally. Collectively, they’d all decided to go out together. That’s not to say they would be staying out too late, though - they had an early start the next morning. “Yeah, man,” came Niall’s voice. “Just go buy her a drink or something.”

“No,” Louis said quickly, arriving at the bar with Zayn. “Don’t do that. They’d rather you just spoke to them than try and buy them a drink. It makes it seem like you’re trying to get them drunk and, you know…”

Harry finished the rest of his drink, running a hand through his hair. Zayn glanced between him and the exit to the club, “Harry, mate, maybe you shouldn’t. If somebody sees you talking to a girl and leaks it to the press-”

“Well, then they’re a dickhead,” Liam said. “It’s your life, Hazza. Worth a shot, right?”

Zayn sighed, “Yeah, they’re a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be her who faces the consequences for talking to you. You know what they’re like whenever we talk to a girl.”

“Too late,” Niall said quickly, gesturing over to the three girls walking over to the bar. One of the girls was considerably drunker than the others, both of them having to support her. The five boys tried to be subtle as they carefully watched you and your friend sit the drunker one down at the booth by the bar. They could just about hear your conversation over the music. After all, you weren’t sat all that far away. “Jesus, Eileen,” you sighed, examining your giggling friend. “What did you drink?”

“I think we should take her home,” your other friend said. 

“No!” Eileen protested. “We’re having so much fun!”

“You’re so drunk,” the other one laughed at Eileen and your frustrated expression. 

“You know me, Nelly, I love a good vodka and coke!” Eileen grinned. “Once I have one, I can’t stop.”

“Have you considered therapy?” Nelly joked. “An AA meeting, maybe?”

You scoffed, slumping back against the padded fabric of the booth. Brushing the loose strands of Eileen’s hair out of her face, you wrapped her jacket around her bare arms. “Come on,” you sighed, “let’s go home.”

You and Nelly carefully lifted Eileen up from the seat to guide her out of the club. The cold London air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Yes, you may have been slightly tipsy, but you were nowhere near as bad as Eileen. Besides, Nelly was entirely sober. The only thing she’d drunk that night was a glass of lemonade. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d have a glass of wine at fancy dinners and that was usually the extent of it. 

Back inside the sweaty club, Harry was beginning to regret not saying a thing to you at all. He’d watched you leave the club with your friends and he suddenly just wanted to go home. “Tough luck, mate,” Louis sighed, smiling sadly at the deflated boy before him. 

Fortunately for Harry, he noticed something on the table of the booth you’d just been sat at. It was a set of keys. He quickly snatched them up and ran out after you. There was hope for him yet. He ran down the street after you. Thankfully, due to Eileen’s stumbling, you’d yet to get too far. “Excuse me!” he called. “Excuse me, I think you dropped your keys!”

It was you who turned back to look at him. His arm was outstretched, the keys between his fingers. You thanked him as he dropped them into your hand. Once he straightened his back from being hunched over, trying to catch his breath, and his face became illuminated by a streetlamp, did you realise who he was. Harry Styles. You didn’t say anything, though. You assumed he probably got enough of people telling him who he was on the daily that he wouldn’t need an extra one from you. He reached out to shake your other hand, “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Y/N.”

He grinned. Y/N. He knew your name. Your hand was soft against his. You were wearing this black dress, or maybe it was blue. It was too dark to tell. Your lips were red, maybe pink. You smelt of strawberries. “I think you look really pretty,” he said, thankful it was so dark to hide the red tint that graced his cheeks. 

You smiled politely, trying to ignore the sniggering of Nelly and Eileen from behind you. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, unsure what to say next. But he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from his grasp. “Can I have your number?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Of course you weren’t going to just give him your number. 

You shrugged, “I don’t even know you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Your younger brother had given you a full debrief on the members of One Direction last time you’d gone back home to visit your family. He’d made sure not to miss a single detail. So, yes, you did know him. Not personally, of course. But it felt personal. He hung his head, “Yeah. Of course. Why would you trust me?”

You knew he wasn’t saying it in an aggressive or sarcastic way. Really, why would you trust him? You sighed, “You’re famous?”

It was a joke. You were joking. And it took him a split second to laugh. Well, he chuckled, really. “I’ll give you my number if you write a song about me,” you smirked. Again, you were kind of joking. And yet, he nodded. 

“Deal.”

20 november, 2013

And write a song about you he did. You found yourself tangled up in the sheets of his bed five days before his third studio album was set to be released. Two months you’d been together now, and they’d been perhaps the happiest of your life. Running your fingers delicately through his mop of hair, smiling contently as he closed his eyes in utter bliss. It should have been sunny outside, the golden rays practically pouring in through the windows of his flat. But alas, it was pouring with bitter rain. “I have to go soon,” he grumbled, nuzzling his tired face into your waist, wrapping his lethargic arms around your thighs. 

You nodded, sighing, “I know, baby.”

“So much fucking press,” he groaned, forcing his eyes open. “Same fucking questions. What’s your favourite off the album? Who is this one written about? Are you single? Everyone’s in love with you, how does that feel?”

You smiled down at him softly, “Good thing you love talking about yourself then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, “Exactly. Just wish they’d ask something novel and somewhat fucking entertaining. Podcast or songs in the shower? Would you ever become a classical composer? Hardback or paperback?”

“What, and ‘podcast or songs in the shower’ is novel and somewhat fucking entertaining,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, a real exclusive for the journalists.”

He chuckled, dragging himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, emerging in no time at all dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans. Unplugging his phone, he pressed his lips to yours. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

You threw the covers from your body, following him through the flat. Harry grabbed one of his coats, before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

You pulled away quickly, staring up at him, eyes wide, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I guess I do.”

“I guess I love you too.”

When he returned, it was dark. You were lying in his bed, your eyelids heavy. He crept in, kissing you lightly. “I wrote a song about you,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him weakly, “You did? You kept your end of the bargain.”

He nodded. And so, he played it for you. You were curled up in his bedsheets, listening to a song a guy had written about you. And it was pretty fucking good. “When did you write it?” you asked as it came to an end.

“A few nights after we met. Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, grabbing his face to kiss him, “I love it. What’s it called?”

“Little Black Dress.”

07 january, 2014

Months passed. And every single one seemed to get better than the last. It felt as if you were high, right up in the clouds, every waking moment. But you were nervous. Your fingers were practically shaking. However, as soon as Anne opened the door to greet you both with her warming smile, the nerves just seemed to disappear. Vanish. She hugged you first, squeezing you tightly as if she’d know you all her life. She hugged Harry next, hurrying you both in. 

The house was warm and cosy and oh so welcoming. There were pictures on the wall of Harry and Gemma as kids and some of Anne and Robin on their wedding day. You couldn’t help but smile at them. Harry noticed you admiring the snapshots of history that had been framed and hung up on the wall. “Cute, wasn’t I?” he joked, squeezing your hand. 

You shrugged, “Not as cute as Gemma.”

You had met Gemma before. You’d gone out to dinner with her and Harry when he decided he wanted you to meet his family. She was lovely and too kind to you. But this was your first time meeting Anne and Robin. Their warm smiles and kind words did nothing but make you feel at home. 

After chatting for a while, they let you and Harry get settled in. You’d be staying for a couple of days before heading back down to London. He showed you around his childhood bedroom, which did nothing but fill you with joy. “Nothing’s changed,” he smiled, eyes exploring the room that still made him feel like a kid again. “I love coming back. Brings me back down to earth, you know? Back to home. I know it’ll always be here, no matter where I go.”

“That’s poetic,” you said. His lips curved up slightly and when he pressed his lips to your head lightly, you couldn’t help but smile too. It almost felt illegal to be so innocently intimate in his childhood bedroom, filled with long-forgotten memories of a life once lived. 

Later, as the sun set over the house that you already felt so welcomed in, you found yourself sat beside Harry in the kitchen. You’d become acquainted with the cats that inhabited the home and Anne’s gorgeous cooking. As Anne and Robin got to know you, you made sure to ask plenty of questions about them. The smile that adorned your face throughout the evening and the following days never seemed to fade or die away. And, by the end of your stay at Harry’s childhood home, you felt as if you’d known Anne and Robin all your life. As if you’d known the walls of the house all your life. And the pictures of youthful ignorances and watercolours of distant landscapes. And the cats that purred loudly as they ran their head along your legs the last thing before you slept and the first thing before you woke. 

And you were sure you could revel in the feeling of warm, welcoming homeliness of the home and the family for the rest of your life.

12 october, 2014

Nelly had looked truly ravishing on her wedding day. The white dress was an unusual contrast to her jeans and sweaters. You were convinced there was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Harry had been hanging off your arm all evening, like a lost toddler. He’d acted like one too, making comments about being tired and his feet hurting all day. You paid no mind to him, though. This was Nelly’s day and she was your friend and you wanted to be there to support her. You’d known the girl since your first day of secondary school when you were both a mere eleven years old. 

Eileen plopped herself down beside you, her eyes exploring the faces that were lost on her in the large hall. Everybody was mingling now, catching up with people they hadn’t seen since 2010. Her presence pulled you away from your hushed conversation with Harry. “I don’t even know who half of these people are,” Eileen sighed. 

“That’s how it usually goes at weddings,” Harry replied, taking a sip of the provided champagne, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“Like, who even is that?” she sighed, gesturing subtly to an elderly man stood with Nelly and her mother. 

You sighed, “That’s her granddad.”

“Oh,” Eileen said. “Are you sure? I thought her granddad died last year.”

“No, that was my granddad,” you chuckled. “That’s Nelly’s Granddad Joe.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. “They all look the same to me. White hair, wrinkly.”

Harry stifled a snort at Eileen’s nonchalant tone. You patted her shoulder lightly, also amused. Eileen had a habit of growing very tired of boring occasions very quickly. It had happened numerous times before and it always cracked you up. She started up again, “I never mind the actual ceremony, like that’s somewhat interesting. It’s the mingling I can’t stand. We’ve been here for two hours, Nelly’s already married, why do people care about this stuff so much?”

“Because it’s nice to catch up with people,” you replied. 

She lay her head down on your shoulder tiredly, “That’s what Facebook is for.”

Harry chuckled, “Well, she isn’t wrong.”

You tried so hard not to sigh so loudly, but it still came out louder than you perhaps would have liked, “Will you two at least pretend to give a shit? Eileen, this is our best friend getting married and you don’t care. We’ve known her for ten years, liven up. Harry, this is my friend and I want to celebrate with her. Just suck it up and deal with it. We’ll go soon.”

You were quite literally dealing with toddlers. You looked up when Nelly finally came and sat down at the table you’d been huddled around. She finished what was left of her drink and threw her head back. “I’m so tired,” she sighed. Even the bride was beginning to act like a two-year-old. 

“I can imagine,” you offered her your best smile. “So, how does it feel to be married?”

“Relieving,” she explained. “But somewhat anticlimactic. My feet hurt and I’m sick of having to say hello to every single aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece. Just to get told ‘oh, I never thought I’d see our Nelly get married’ or ‘my, haven’t you grown’? Yes, Linda, I have. Because it’s been seven years since you’ve last seen me, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

The three of you exchanged amused glances at Nelly’s grumbling. She was throwing her arms about, staring down at the white tablecloth that had a big wine stain in it. Your mother had knocked over her wine when explaining to Harry how much of a teacher’s pet you were in school. Obviously, you had to interject and explain that caring about grades didn’t equal a teacher’s pet. “Oh, you never thought you’d see your Nelly get married, did you? Well, maybe that’s because gay marriage was only legalised last year. Fucking disgusting,” Nelly went on.

Eileen quickly held up her hand, “Please, we’ve heard this rant before.”

Nelly sighed, glancing boredly at Eileen. You all sat in peaceful silence for a moment, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s large hand on your leg. When your mother finally came over, telling you she was heading off, you decided it was time for your departure too. So, congratulating Nelly and her new wife, Emma, on their marriage and beautiful ceremony and bidding farewell to those you were sure you wouldn’t see again until 2016, you and Harry ventured back to your little flat. 

Once you were showered and out of the dress you felt so beautiful in, you tumbled into bed, happy to finally have those heels off. Harry’s suit was stranded across your bedroom floor in little piles of shirt and trouser and sock. “Can I perform at our wedding?” he asked, turning to look at you as you lay your head back against the inviting softness of your pillow. 

His question and casual tone is what awoke all the life in you. You didn’t sit up dramatically and make a scene about it. You merely rolled over to face him directly, smiling softly at him, “Who said we’ll be getting married?”

He shrugged, “I think it’d be quite nice if we did one day.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, finding a wonderful level of contentment in the discussion of the future with Harry. “But you’re not performing at it.”

He chuckled, “Why not? Me and the boys. The lads and I. A bit of Up All Night? Some more recent stuff? Come on, Y/N, you’d love it.”

“Not when my new husband is singing with his little boyband.”

Hearing you refer to Harry as your ‘new husband’ certainly made him light up inside. And his head was suddenly filled with all sorts of fantasies of what it would be like to wake up beside you every day. To come home from a long day and order food in because neither of you could be bothered to cook. To get your first pet together, probably name it after a character in a show you were presently obsessed with. To raise a family together. To fight through the sleepless nights of infancy, but knowing it would all be worth it because, at the end of the day, he knew you’d always be there. Just as he’d always be there for you. 

And he smiled, because he knew this was where he wanted to stay for as long as he can. With you. 

15 may, 2015

It felt different waking up under the sun in Italy. Same sun, just… different. It was Italian. It was glorious. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of not having management drag Harry out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the refreshing release of the pressures of university coursework. Perhaps it was the mere fact that you were completely alone with nobody to interrupt you. 

Harry’s hair was splayed out across the cool silk pillows that rested quite perfectly on the bed you wished belonged to you. His tattooed arms were slung lazily over your body and the thin sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed in your sleep. It was something about being on holiday that always made you tired, despite doing nothing but reading or lounging about in the sun or splashing about in the pool. 

He was snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly. You were happy, though, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that replaced a wall of the bedroom in the villa you were staying at. It opened up onto the pool and had a simply marvellous view of the blue sea. It was a short walk into town, but you and Harry had made a point of exploring it all within the first three days so you could spend the rest of your overdue holiday cuddled up together in the sunlight.

When Harry stirred, his tired eyes still full of sleep, you finally sat up. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you back down. You laughed, trying desperately to pry his fingers off your skin. “I’m getting up now,” you said happily. 

“Don’t,” he grumbled, closing his sleepy eyes again. “Why get up when we can stay here forever?”

“Why stay here forever when we’re literally in Italy and there’s a pool outside?” you countered. 

“But why go swim in the pool when we did that yesterday?”

You shook your head at him, laughing. You pulled yourself away from the bed that could only be described as heavenly. He watched you leave, smiling away to himself. Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries, you wandered out into the garden of the villa. Soon enough, Harry joined you in his yellow shorts. Of course there had been paparazzi pictures of you and Harry exploring Amalfi, hands clasped together tightly. But, for once, you paid no mind to them. Usually, you found it hard not to stare at the pictures of you and Harry for hours, picking apart all the pixelated details of your face and body. You would be lying if you said it didn’t take a toll on you mentally. But, when you were able to turn your phone off for a week and just enjoy the world around you, it left you feeling refreshed and cleansed. 

Harry sat himself down by the side of the pool, letting his legs swing between the cool ripples of water. He lay his head back, letting his eyes flutter shut. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. You were both in silent agreement that this was where you wanted to go when you died. 

When you finished your strawberries and your lips and fingertips smelt suitably like them, you clambered up from the bench and slipped quietly into the pool. The water was contrastingly cold compared to the sun that beat down relentlessly but perfectly. You swam towards Harry, interlacing your strawberry-scented fingers with his own. He looked down at you, smiling brightly at the sight of such. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You grinned, “I love you too.”

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession with me,” he replied, shrugging jokingly.

You scoffed, “If anyone has an unhealthy obsession with someone, it’s you. Let’s go to Italy, you said, you can finish your uni coursework later. You begged me to come here with you.”

He smirked down at you, “Begged? You seemed pretty eager to me.”

“Well, you never have been very observant,” you joked, squeezing his hands tightly, before dragging him into the pool with you. 

When he finally resurfaced, brushing his long hair out of his green eyes, he reached out to grasp you. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your body submerged in the water. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he held you as if he was scared you were going to be pulled away from him. As if was the last time he would ever get to feel your skin against his own. “When we go home,” he whispered, “move in with me.”

You lay your head against his shoulder, softly closing your eyes. All you needed was the sound of his light breathing and the increased beating of his heart as he waited for any kind of indication of a response from you. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, equally as quiet.

You didn’t want to make a deal about moving in with Harry. The setting wasn’t right. You were holding each other tightly in the pool of an Italian villa in Amalfi, the world around you warm and serene. So, you agreed gently, buzzing violently inside at the prospect of all the adventures you and Harry could get up to living together.  

02 july, 2016

You’d lived in Harry’s flat for a month before you both decided to buy your own house. It was a lovely home in Chelsea that you and Harry had simply fallen in love with when you first saw it. It felt perfect in the sunlight and in the pouring rain. But, as you both returned from going out for drinks after your university graduation ceremony, you were quickly irritated by the half-painted walls and flat-pack furniture. 

A week or two prior to your graduation ceremony, you had both been sat at the island in the kitchen, when you both decided that you wanted to renovate the house. Maybe replace the grey walls in the living room with a forest green and swap out the black and white furniture for navys and mustards. The modern style of the house had been nice at first, but it quickly began to feel like less of a home and more of an office building. So, you decided to change it up a bit.

Harry recently got back from America after finishing some last-minute shoots on the new Christopher Nolan film he’d been cast in. While you’d visited him once when he was shooting in Dunkirk, you still felt eternally grateful to have him back home. And, while you could sit and hear him talk about what it was like working with Christopher Nolan and the likes of Tom Hardy and Kenneth Branagh, you grew increasingly stressed about graduating and renovating the house. But now the graduation was over and you were officially free of education. The renovation was well underway and you were actively seeking a job with your English literature degree. “Thank God that’s over,” you sighed, sitting down at the kitchen island after pouring yourself a glass of chocolate milk. “Finally free of the tiresome shackles that are higher education.”

He snorted at you, “I’m proud of you. Just think, you were only in your first year at university when we first met.”

You couldn’t help but smile. So much had changed in the last three years of your life. You were sat with your boyfriend, who had just come back from shooting a movie, in the kitchen of your own house in Chelsea, London having just come back from your university graduation ceremony. One of your closest friends was married and had been happily for coming up to two years. The other had just got herself into a relationship after ranting to you about how she wanted to stay single forever countless times before. Life was good and you were content in where you were for your age. Who wouldn’t be? You’d just broken into your 20s and were about to enter the brutal world of careers. “I miss your long hair,” you said suddenly, pouting slightly at the sight of Harry without his hair you’d grown so used to. 

“I don’t. Dries so much quicker after showers,” he said. “Stays out of my face when I’m doing stuff. Doesn’t get knotted so easily. So many perks to shorter hair.”

“But you looked so hot with it,” you said, mocking a sad tone.

He smiled, “Don’t I look hot now?”

You shrugged, “You always look hot. Just less hair to grab now.”

His cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so cheeky sometimes!”

“Just speaking the truth, your honour,” you raised your hands in surrender. “What shall we order in for dinner?”

“Up to you, it’s your day after all,” he smiled. “I’m just going for a shower, so just order me whatever.”

As he got up, he pressed his lips to yours briefly as he walked past, squeezing your shoulder. It was the domesticity of it that made you fall in love with him more and more. Late nights binging crappy tv shows and early morning leftovers and the moment of realisation that you’d forgotten to water the plants by the kitchen window. It was what you’d imagined the entire time you’d been with Harry. All of these hypotheticals that you had stored away in your mind were now your simply marvellous reality.

10 may, 2017

The topic of children had been brought up a few times before. You’d both agreed that you wanted them one day. Mid-twenties maybe, 25 or 26? You’d been together since you were both nineteen, but you were still young. That’s not to say that if you happened to fall pregnant now you’d be entirely opposed to becoming parents. Your house had long been finished and you had a decent job and Harry had his debut album and his film coming out. 

But presently, you found yourself sat on the sofa, listening to Harry’s completed album. Anne was sat beside you, silently absorbing the masterpiece that her son had crafted. As Two Ghosts slowly became Sweet Creature, you felt yourself tear up, only to look over and find Anne in floods of tears. You knew, as you listened intently to the lyrics, it was Harry’s way of assuring you it was going to be okay. You didn’t need to worry about starting a family yet. You didn’t need to worry about arguing with him. It would all be okay in the end. 

As the final note of From the Dining Table echoed across your living room, it was safe to say you and Anne were both desperate to hear it all again. Harry Styles being unapologetically himself was something you would be eternally proud of him for. 

21 july, 2017

Maybe if you hadn’t gone to the Dunkirk premiere on Harry’s arm, you wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy. You were there to look nice and give the newspapers something to talk about the next morning. Always something about ‘HARRY STYLES AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND Y/N Y/L/N AT DUNKIRK PREMIERE’ which would be full of meaningless facts about your relationship, your education and career and family, who styled the two of you. Of course, you were excited to see Harry in a project he’d put so much life into and you were so proud of him. But it was when you and Harry were being interviewed that you began to feel uncomfortable. 

It had started off fine with questions about what prompted Harry to star in a film, what it was like working with Christopher Nolan, that sort of thing. But, as usual, the interviewers managed to make smooth transitions into Harry’s personal life. “Y/N, you and Harry have been together since 2013, how does it feel to see him succeed on such a global scale?” one asked. 

Your gaze shifted between Harry and the camera behind the interviewer, “Well, he’s happy, isn’t he? And, as long as he’s happy, I’ll always be proud of him.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself at your answer, as did the interviewer, who knew they were getting some good footage. It wasn’t often you did publicity things. Obviously, you would have to be in certain places with Harry to spark some news articles, which were completely set up by Harry’s management. You didn’t mind that so much. But being asked about yourself and your relationship was something you didn’t like all that much. You’d go live on Instagram sometimes and you would get a couple of questions about Harry, which you were usually happy to answer. And if you felt uncomfortable answering them, you could just pretend you hadn’t seen it. But in real-life interviews, there was no escaping them and the hole the camera burnt into you. “So, you two have obviously been together for nearly five years,” another began, “is there any possibility of children in your future?”

Harry had been getting the kids question since he turned twenty, but this one seemed to make him flinch slightly. Maybe it was the recent tension you’d both been feeling about starting a family. Were you ready? Weren’t you? Should you get a home that wasn’t so central first? All these questions that neither of you knew the answers to. Maybe it was the recent loss of Harry’s stepfather and the ripple that had caused within the family. “I think we should get a cat before we have a child,” was your reply, your tone joking and your smile friendly, but your answer serious. 

Harry chuckled, “I think we’re both still quite young and we’re both committed to our careers, so having a child right now would just be illogical and impractical. I think it’s healthy to focus on ourselves and our relationship for a few years more.”

But that wasn’t the last question about parenthood. And with each one, you began to feel the pressure of society to start a family more and more. It was actually such a relief to get into the cinema, sit down and just enjoy the film. When you finally got home and up into bed, you had to roll over and voice your thoughts to Harry. “Should we have a baby?” you asked quietly.

“Not if you’re not ready,” he replied in a hushed tone as if he’d been expecting you to bring such a topic up. And, truth be told, he had. He had watched your eyebrows furrow more every time you were asked about kids and your tone become an increasingly stronger mix of shakiness and aggressiveness. 

“Everyone expects us to, Harry,” you said. 

“Well, they’re not in our relationship. It’s your body, love, when you want a kid, we’ll have a kid.”

09 january, 2019

One year ago, you and Harry had decided to start trying for a baby. You had both reached a point in your lives where you were happy and comfortable. You decided it was the perfect time to start expanding your quiet little home. Neither of you were to know the stress that would come in the following months. 

It had been a year. A year and not even a single sign of pregnancy. None of your periods were significantly late, you never felt the urge to throw up in the morning. No weird cravings, no weight gain. 

You were round at Nelly’s house with Eileen. Her wife, Emma, was out for the day so Nelly had invited the two of you round. Six episodes deep into the latest craze of television, the three of you found more interest in conversation. “How’s Harry?” Eileen asked after she’d finished telling you about the new dog she and her boyfriend, Charlie, had adopted. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to lie and say he was fine; that the two of you were fine. Because you weren’t. Every single negative pregnancy test resulted in an extra argument, more pressure and stress and lots more guilt on both ends. “Yeah, yeah, he’s good. We’re good,” you said. 

“You’re such a liar,” Nelly laughed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to explain everything to your friends. From the pressures of the media to the failure to conceive. The two girls sat and listened in silence, absorbing the piles of information you were presenting them with. And, when you were finally finished, Eileen said, “Maybe you should go to the doctors about that. If it’s been a year and you still aren’t pregnant, it might be something they can fix… you know, cure.”

“I’d rather not know if there’s something wrong with me,” you grumbled. 

“I think you would. It would be better to know, right? As Eileen said, it might be something they have some pills for,” Nelly said.

“They have pills for everything,” you sighed. “But fine, I’ll go to the doctors. Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” Nelly smiled softly as Eileen leaned over to squeeze your trembling hand. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“I’ll tell him if something happens. If they say it’s nothing, then he doesn’t need to know,” you said quietly. 

Nelly and Eileen exchanged a silent glance, before Eileen said, “It’s been a year, Y/N. It must be something.”

17 january, 2019

You sat nervously opposite the doctor. Your knee was bouncing and your heart rate can’t have been healthy. You had gotten up early, leaving Harry asleep in bed, to come and collect your results from the doctor. She smiled softly at you and it definitely made you feel more comfortable. “So, Y/N. Your results came back and it appears you have Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or DOR. Basically, you have a lower number or quality of eggs, which makes it harder to reproduce. Essentially, you don’t have as much reproductive potential left within your ovaries.”

Her words quickly became a ringing noise rooted deep within your ears. Your eyes fell from her own and found the horrible carpet on the floor far more comforting. You were alone now and you were beginning to wish you’d brought one of the girls or your mother or even Harry. “I-is there any kind of treatment?” you asked. 

She leant back in her chair slightly, interlocking her hands on her lap, “We can prescribe some supplements, which will hopefully increase fertility. But if you want a child, there’s always adoption or we can even try IVF. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You nodded, grabbing your coat from the chair beside you and slipping your arms into it. You thanked her quickly, taking the supplements and leaving. Everything seemed to pass you by in a blur. It took you a long time to collect your thoughts. And, as you reached your front door, it hit you that you were to blame for the lack of positive pregnancy tests. It was your eggs that were fucking it all up. You might even have a baby right now if it weren’t for you. You took a moment to wipe away the tears that were falling freely from your eyes. You rested your head against the front door before finally pushing your way through. 

Harry was sat at the piano in the corner of the living room. He was still in his pyjamas and there was a glass of half-drunken orange juice on the coffee table. He didn’t turn to look at you when he heard you enter, he just said, “Morning, love. Where have you been? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

He was busy scribbling in his notebook to take any real interest in your whereabouts. This was the problem with the hole you and Harry had dug yourselves trying to conceive: nobody cared anymore. He didn’t care where you went or how you were. He didn’t care how your mother was. You didn’t care about how his day was. You didn’t care how his friends were getting on.  Nobody cared anymore and it was driving you insane. “The doctors,” you said firmly, standing in the doorframe of the living room, waiting for him to turn around. To face you. To fucking look you in the eye and not be a coward for once in his life.

But alas, he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the scribbles of lyrics, “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Shit,” you snapped. “It was fucking shit. I can’t have kids. We can’t have kids. If you cared to know.”

“How come?” he asked, his back paying you more attention than his eyes. 

“Because, Harry, I’m fucking infertile. Okay? I’m infertile. I have Diminished Ovarian Reserve. So, we can’t have kids, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can try again later.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what you were talking about. You finally snapped in that moment. You’d had enough of living like this. “Why are we trying, Harry?” you asked, the tears you’d tried so hard to hide resurfacing.

“Because I thought you wanted kids,” he replied. 

“No, Harry. Why are we trying? With us. Neither of us cares about the other, we’re both miserable. You’d rather be anywhere but here. And I can’t stand this house any longer. We’re both fucking miserable so why are we still trying? Why are we still fighting for this? Why are we still fighting for a relationship that died months ago?”

He turned to look at you. The scribbling had stopped. The tinkering on the piano had stopped. He was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t think about it, “I am happy, love. Can’t you see?”

You shook your head, stepping back, “No, you’re not. You’re angry at me and you’ll only blame me because I can’t give us children. I need to leave, Harry.”

“What? Y/N, wait,” he said, but you’d already marched up the stairs to your bedroom. He knew you were packing your things up and what you couldn’t pack you’d come back for later. He knew he couldn’t stop you from leaving. He knew he’d be wrong for trying. Maybe you were right, maybe he was miserable, but he still loved you. God, he was so fucking in love with you. And now he was watching the girl he’d loved since he first laid eyes on her dancing in that club with her friends in 2013 walk out of his life. 

When you came back down the stairs, some bags thrown over your shoulder, you stood in the doorway to get a final glimpse of him. He looked up, meeting your eyes. Your pretty eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But he knew you weren’t apologising for the outburst. He knew you weren’t going to come crying into his arms and apologise profusely. He knew he wouldn’t have the chance to explain that they could work through it together. As they always had done before. 

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And you were gone. You did love him. You felt obliged to tell him so. But you needed to leave. You were being strangled in that relationship, in that house. And you knew he was too. You’d grown to resent each other, but you were sure you would love him forever.

13 april, 2021

The baby gurgled loudly, clasping your hair between his fingers. You smiled down at the little miracle in your arms. He was only six months old. But what a little bundle of joy he was. You looked up at the sight of Eileen emerging from the shop, tucking her mask into her pocket, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

You handed him back to his mother. You had swiftly agreed to look after baby Oliver while Eileen ducked into a shop to buy Charlie his birthday present. You both wandered through the hot streets of London, patrolling the fresh fruit market that radiated a vast variety of marvellous scents. Oliver was asleep, the sun making him tired. You liked the little world you’d built up for yourself since 2019. You were a couple of years older with a flat of your own, with plants you still forget to water. And yet, you couldn’t help the prideful smile that took over your features when you heard that Harry had won a Grammy. Any bitterness you’d felt for him soon dissipated. It was your fault for the collapse of your relationship as much as it was his. 

But, when you saw Harry Styles purchasing some fresh strawberries just a few metres away, it all came flooding back. A tsunami of forgotten memories. You felt like a young and innocent university student who fell in love too quickly again. Maybe that was the reason you approached him. As he turned to leave the stand, his eyes connected with yours. You smiled softly, “Hi, Harry.”

[mindofharry]

In which you and harry go on a talk show and talk about your kids, marriage and the industry.

fluff and talk of hollywood - bad and good. i hope you love this as much as i do!!! feedback is welcome as always <3

James Corden was more than another talk show host to you and harry. He was a friend, a really close friend at that. Harry had known him a long time, since he was a teenager, in the early days of one direction. And he’s always been so good to harry and how you. You met James and his wife, Julia, a couple years back - 5 to be exact. You and harry had been dating only a couple months, and you were very new to the industry. You had your own fan base, and had gotten recognised before - but nothing like harry. Harry and you met at an event, and then went to an after party together and the rest was history. So with you and harry being together, you met with his friends. James and Julia were honestly the nicest and funniest people ever - you were fangirling a bit (a lot) because you remember watching Gavin and Stacey on repeat for years, James was surprised when you mentioned it.

So with you and harry being close friends with james and know you can trust him with just about anything, you knew the best person for this interview would be him. People - reporters, are begging to just have a little insight to what you and harry go through, how you met, your babies and marriage. Anything they can get their hands on. And you both, especially harry, feel ready to talk about that. So why not make this causal? Have a friend over, ask some questions and then that’s it. You’ve got the interview done and you both don’t feel any pressure.

James’ assistant asked you guys to come up with a list of things you feel completely comfortable with talking about and a list that you absolutely will not talk about at all. So for example, harry would talk about his experience in the band, but he will not talk for his other bandmates - he doesn’t want to be asked unnecessary questions that the media would just feed in to. The same with you, you want to talk about your journey, but you want to keep somethings about your journey private, and you both know james will understand that.

“You nervous?” You asked your husband, harry. He was sitting down on the sofa in your shared room - you were both waiting to be called out, you were better under pressure harry not so much.

He shook his head and you sighed, sitting down beside him placing your hand in his hair. It always calms him down. You immediately knew he was nervous, he couldn’t hide it from you. You’ve been married three years and together five, neither of you could lie to each other even if you tried. Usually harrys buzzing to go on talk shows, loving talking to people and just having fun conversations. But he’s such a private person, and so many secrets will be shared. It’s normal to be nervous about it.

“Do you want to cancel?”

Harry immediately smiled at the question. You cared so much. You were too good for him, always caring for him even if you’re not in the best place. He remembers you both caught a bad cold, but instead of resting, you made sure harry was healthy and comfortable. Or when paps were around - you made sure you were the only one on those cameras. Harry was so grateful for you. You’re the best wife, the best friend and the most amazing mother. Harry got very lucky.

“No” harry paused pecking your lips. “i’m okay, baby. just nervous y’know?” he said and you nodded placing your hand on his cheek, caressing it softly.

“Whenever you want to cut it short, we will. James knows that” you say and harry nodded before pecking your lips again. Your phone pinged, you placed your hand in your pocket pulling it to see two text messages from your mom - she’s looking after the kids tonight. You have two boys, Mika and Aiden. When you found out you were having twins all you felt was excitement. Harry was even more protective over you seen as there was two babies inside of you. The pregnancy wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. The first trimester you were in bed for most of it, second trimester wasn’t too bad, you were just tired and moody. The third trimester was an emotional one, and it was super busy. But once the twins came - everything fell into place and you both just fell in love. Now they’re both two, Mika is the oldest, but Aidan is the biggest. You could already tell they’d be heartbreakers.

The text was a picture of the two boys in front of the tv watching their favourite show miraculous lady bug - you’re not going to lie, it’s a bit of guilty pleasure for you. Cat noir and miraculous lady bug have more drama than the kardashians.

“Look at our babies” you pout showing harry a picture of your boys. Harry took your phone and zoomed in. “They’re wearing their matching gucci pjs” Harry giggled and you rolled your eyes playfully. “And they look very cute” he added and you nodded taking your phone back. A knock on the made you both stand up, harry walked towards the door of the dressing room and opened it to see one of the show producers.

The producer - Paul - walked you both through what james is doing and if we have any queries or want a break just signal him and he’ll cut it short.

“Anything at all you want, we’ll get it” Paul said as you both walked hand in hand behind him. “We want to make you both as comfortable as possible, ok?” He said stopping outside the studio door. “Yeah, thank you” you say squeezing harrys hand and kissing his shoulder. Paul and other people around the studio were around you, Harrys best friend and Manager Jeff is there and your manager Alice is there too. They both sent a comforting smile your way, you responded with a thumbs up.

Paul turned your way and you grinned.

“5, 4, 3, 2,” paul counted down and then opened the door to the studio at one. You and harry walked out hand in hand, james corden waiting on the main stage.

“Guys! Thanks for coming” James said pulling you into a hug first, kissing your cheek. You smiled as he did the same to harry. You both sat down on the purple sofa, harry placing his hand on your knee. This feels good, you thought. You feel relaxed - there’s tea and biscuits. It just feels like talking to an old friend, which really it essentially is.

“Thanks for having us” harry said rubbing his thumb against your knee, you placed your hand on it.

“Now, we all know how private you both are - especially harry. So how do you feel about coming on and sharing a lot of stuff, that y’know has been private for so long?”

You looked over at harry, it seemed like he was still calculating his answer. You answered for the both of you. “Um - it’s been a weird feeling leading up to it. Y’know i feel excitement and nervousness. But i’m glad we’re doing it together, with you. It makes it a lot easier” you say and james nodded, pointing to harry. “And how do you feel?” he asked and harry sighed placing a hand on his own knee.

“I feel nervous. Yeah. But i know i’ll feel better after i share some stuff” Harry said, giving a brief answer. Harry styles could avoid any question ever - james knew he wouldn’t be getting much out of him.

“Ok, now how are the boys?” James asked grinning, and you almost squealed. Sure, the media have seen the boys and fans know that you guys have kids, but they don’t know names or anything like that - you’re not even sure the media know they’re twins. Your pregnancy was really well hidden too, so it was a shock when people saw you and harry out with two 6 month old babies.

“They’re at home, watching they’re favourite show” you say and harry nodded “in the gucci pjs i got them too!” harry added making you and james both laugh. “They’re really good. Super healthy, Mika knows all sort of words now - we have to be super careful around him. And aiden can escape any cot” you say and james laughs again.

“That’s amazing”

Harry nodded and rubbed your knee. “Mika learned the f word” Harry said gesturing over to you and james eyes widened. “No way!” he gasped and you covered your face.

“I said it infront of him once! once!” you say and harry shook his head.

“And now he says it 4 times a day”

You tutted at him and squeezed his hand before going back to james. He looked between the two of you and just smiled before asking more questions. He just couldn’t believe how much love you two can give. You’re perfect for each other. Both so caring, loving and kind. He knew your boys would grow up to be the best kind of people because you two.

“So how did you two meet?” James asked sitting back in his chair.

“Well first we met at a one direction concert” You say and harry bit his lip to stop him smiling. “i wasn’t into singing or acting yet, and my nephew was obsessed with one direction at the time. My dad knew some people back stage so they got us VIP tickets” you say and james shook his head.

“That’s insane!” he said and you nodded.

“Harry and i actually talked for a bit before the next people came in. I wasn’t the biggest fan of them, so i wasn’t too star struck” you giggled and harry pinched your arm.

“you were totally star struck” he pouted and you laughed again.

“I thought you were liam for a full 5 minutes, harry” you say and harry sighed his hands falling into his lap. “women” he mumbled and you laughed placing a hand on his. “i’m kidding. i did mention that i loved your man bun” you say and harry nodded remembering.

“We met again three years later at an after party, when Y/N was new to the industry. We recognised each other and got talking - the rest was history” harry vaguely, making you smile.

“Now....” james said pausing a bit, making harry tense up. you rubbed his arm comforting him.

“How has being famous changed you both?” james asked looking at you first.

“um, that’s a hard one. I mean i haven’t been in the industry very long, but i can tell you i’m very cautious” you say and james nodded “i have to triple check everything, i get my assistant Alice, who’s amazing to check things for me. I constantly have to watch what i’m doing and saying” you say and pause slightly. “in my first year of being quote on quote famous, i was anxious, rude, exhausted and that whole year really changed who i was and the people i surrounded myself with” you say and james smiled at your honesty looking over at harry.

“Of course, it’s changed me. But i always felt like i was made for this life. And although i have to being really cautious about things i absolutely love this life” harry said.

“it’s definitely had it’s bad and good moments” he added and james nodded in understanding.

“As harry said, it’s had its bad moments and good moments. But we’re both really grateful that we’re here. We’re able to support our children with anything they may want and need. We’re glad that bad happened, because if it didn’t we wouldn’t be in this position”

“I get it” James said “completely. Are you able to talk about some of the bad with us?” He asked with a hopeful voice.

you laughed to yourself and looked over at harry, give him ‘the look’. As in, do you want to talk about this or not. Harry nodded and squeezed your hand.

“I mean, you get your fair share of hate” Harry said leaning foward. “I was in a boyband, people just liked to make fun of us to make them seem different, and it doesn’t bother me anymore - i’m older and learned more. But it killed me when i got the first few hate comments” harry said and you were trying to keep the tears in as you listen to harry reminisce.

“And that was hard?” james asked and harry nodded.

“I remember just sitting there and reading all of the comments. I punished myself for it” he said and you placed both hands on his. “and i know they were just jealous trolls - but it hurt, sometimes still does” harry said and james nodded.

“Every celeb goes through it - it’s sadly part of the job, and it shouldn’t be” you say shrugging.

James looked to you as if to say - i know you didn’t answer the question.

You sighed and harry kissed your temple.

“The first year into our marriage harry and i decided we wanted kids” you say, tears filling up in your eyes. “And we got pregnant pretty quickly” you paused tears falling down.

“And we lost them, pretty quickly too”

James eyes widened and shook his head. “i’m so sorry” he said and you nodded. “We were both dealing with so much from the media that we lost the baby. I was taking on way too much, and harry was going through private stuff of his own. It wasn’t our fault, i know. But i just think about if i had just calmed down and listened - would we have three children instead of two?”

“We were blessed with two little angels, and we never took them for granted, we still don’t and never will” Harry said taking over and giving the signal to paul to cut the interview short.

Paul gave the signal to james so he began wrapping it up.

“Now, before we love you and leave you, is there anything you’d like to say?”

You smiled and leaned into to harry.

“Don’t take anything for granted and choose love” you say and harry looked down at you and nodded.

“That’s all we have time for today! See you tomorrow”

You guys go the signal that the cameras were off and a bunch of people started moving around. You stood up and brought James into a hug and kissed his cheek. He pulled back “I’m sorry if i went too far with my last question” he apologised and you shook your head. “No! No! definitely not. I feel so much lighter and better after sharing it” you say with a smile.

He brought harry into a hug and they said their thanks and whatnot. Paul then guided you and harry back to the dressing room so you guys can wind down a bit before heading home.

“God, i feel so much better at that” You say twirling around. Harry placed his hands on your hips pulling you into him, pecking your lips twice. “i’m proud of us” he said and you nodded putting your arms around his neck.

“We did good. And you feel good, right?” you asked and he nodded quickly.

“Now, let’s get home to our babies”

You both sit down for about 5 minutes, going through your phones just to check up on things. Then you packed up and your managers talked you through some press things - not to listen to any comments etc. Everyone will have their opinions, you learned that very early on in your career.

“I can’t wait get home” you yawned fastening up your seatbelt. Harry nodded placing a hand on your thigh. “Takeout?” he asked and you nodded.

“Definitely”

[lululawrence]

lululawrence’s April 2021 Fic List

Previous Fic Lists / Fic List Podcast Masterpost

April has been a bit of a roller coaster, hasn’t it? But here we are, already almost May! I was able to read so many incredible fics this month. Like... truly, so many STELLAR fics. I’m finally back to reading more of last year’s Big Bang fics, plus a couple that I betaed have already posted, and then I threw in some other shorter ones for fun as well, and I cannot wait to share them with you and tell you what I loved about each one.

In fact, if you’d really like to hear me rhapsodize about these fics, you can listen to my podcast here.

As always, be sure to show your love and appreciation for all of the hard work our fandom authors have put into their fics with kudos, nice comments, and (when applicable) reblogging their fic posts!

Falling in the Wrong Direction by @fallinglikethis / FallingLikeThis (25k, E, Harry/Louis, past Liam/Harry, Big Bang fic, based on Catch and Release, grieving Harry, Liam has recently died when the fic starts, Louis was Liam’s best friend, enemies to friends to lovers, roommates Niall and Zayn, secrets, for real the grief is real in this one, soooo many emotions and all of them perfectly navigated, i loved it all so very much)

sustenance by Anonymous (12k, E, Harry/Louis, Girl Direction, Induced Lactation, Breastfeeding, Lactation Kink, Footballer Louis, Public Breastfeeding, I mean it kinda is public cause they’re surrounded by others due to the nature of the experiment, It’s a whole science thing, it’s... listen it’s all for smut’s sake and it’s fucking hot so, if lactation kink is your thing you gotta do it lol)

Let Me Kiss You by Anonymous (4k, G, Harry/Louis, Zayn/Louis, Liam/Louis, Niall/Louis, Canon Compliant, Louis kisses everyone, I think he and Harry are actually dating and he isn’t dating the rest, anyway, Recreational Drug Use aka weed lol, It’s back when the band was together but kinda seems to float across some years?, Fuck, listen, this fic was just so incredibly pure and good, I loved it so much, I loved how each kiss had a different reason, and the way it is all framed???, IT’S WONDERFUL I LOVED IT PLEASE READ IT)

Hooked With Just One Taste by @dinosaursmate / dinosaursmate (49k, E, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, Cam Boy Louis, Rich Harry, Former-Celebrity Harry, he’s still kinda famous but not actively if that makes sense lmao, side Ziall, I LOVE THE ZIALL OKAY OMG, Also listen, this fic is sooooo smutty and hot and great, but it also is so pure and good?, Like the way Harry and Louis interact and grow to be so into each other for more than just sexy times?, SO GOOD, anyway read itttttt, the art is PERFECT for it too!, props to @wilywolf for that hehe)

your crimes are quiet, my love by @lightwoodsmagic / lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes) (98k, E, Zayn/Liam, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, Miss Congeniality AU, but make it darker and more realistic, lolllll It’s still sooooo much fun though omggggg, MI5 Agents Liam and Zayn, Ziam are partners for work, pining, SO much pining, friends to lovers, oblivious boys seriously, Louis is the pageant trainer/consultant, Harry is Liam’s roommate for the pageant and a contestant, I cannot express to you how incredible this fic was and how much it sucks you in, the storyline was such an original and incredible and creepy yet really lovely take on the original story, i fucking loved it, oh there’s side Shiall too and I loved them even if they weren’t in it nearly so much as the rest!)

Favourite Boy by @quelsentiment / wordsnnotes (9k, T, Zayn/Louis, pining, lack of communication, Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Except they’re more just... the benefits?, I guess it’s more like... Regular Booty Calls to Lovers, lmaoooo, for real though this fic omggggg, it sucked me right into Zayn’s head and the whole issue of it all, and they just won’t talk!!!, SO CRAZY GOOD OMG)

But I’m the Quarterback by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 (52k, E, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, But I’m the Cheerleader AU, quarterback Harry, Conversion Therapy Camp, Sexuality Crisis, Gay Awakening, Crisis of Faith, Self Harm, Listen, this fic is heavy at times, but for the most part it really is so lovely and gentle, The way Harry comes to learn about himself and accept himself, all with the wonderful people around him going through the same thing, AND LARRY AND LLOYD OMGGGG I LOVE THEM SO MUCHHHHH, anyway, i love this fic please give it a chance if you can handle the tags!, and MASSIVE shout out to the artist @whatagreatproblemtohave for the amazing art!)

Felt Nothing Like Home by @becomeawendybird / QuickedWeen (62k, E, Harry/Louis, Big Bang fic, Bon Appetit Test Kitchen AU, Specifically a Brad/Claire AU for those who are familiar hehe, Pastry Chef Harry, Professional Chef Louis, YouTube AU, Pining, All the fucking pining, Friends to Lovers, Secret Relationship, This fic is so warm and lovely and soft, And funny omg so funny, but also so sweet, it was absolutely stellar, I love)

The Journal by @wait4ever / RecycledStardust and @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 (14k, G, Harry/Louis, Alternate Universe, Magic, Spells, Mystery, Twin Flames, Soulmates, Reincarnation in a way, Rituals, 1990s AU, but also a Historical fic in certain scenes, and NO the 90s aren’t historical yet FIGHT ME, anyway sorry lol, This fic is so special and I keep getting choked up just thinking about it, It is absolutely lovely and the found friends/family aspect is also so so lovely, and I just, Oh gosh it is a must read please read this fic I’m begging you)

Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (4k, G, Harry/Louis, Soulmate Fest fic, which of course means Soulmates!, Soulmarks, Meet Cute, Or well kinda a meet ugly whoops, lol, Lilo Friendship, Humor, Listen this fic is borderline crack in the best way and I laughed so many times reading it, It was lighthearted and wonderful)

To the late night double feature show by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (2k, NR, Harry/Louis, Halloween fic, Cryptid Harry, kinda? I think he’s considered a cryptid?, lmao ANYWAY, meet cute, Clifford, Crack, This fic was once again adorable and silly and yet soft and warm and once again, I love it, Let’s all just sit and admire the way Emmu’s brain works shall we?)

[thelarriefics]

MOVIE/TV FIC REC, Part III: Below you’ll find more fics that are based on movies or television series. (Part I, Part II)

📖 Come My Love Again by @softfonds (110k)

Harry Styles is handsome, clever, and rich. At least that’s what his friends say of him. He also thinks of himself as a matchmaker in Highbury, pairing people together when he finds the time. But when the arrival of a certain gentleman flips Harry’s world on its head, he starts to question everything that was once all too familiar to him, including his relationship with his good friend, Mr. Tomlinson. An Emma AU.

📖 Let Our Hearts Collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo (76k)

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

📖 All Things Hidden by @coucoujedors (68k)

the Good Omens AU where Louis is a fallen angel who falls for an angel and has to save the world in the meantime.

📖 Felt Nothing Like Home by @becomeawendybird (61k)

The Bon Appétit YouTube channel has become an unexpected success partly due to the newest series developed by classically trained pastry chef Harry Styles who is intent on making the art of baking accessible to the masses. He and his best friend Louis Tomlinson have been with the magazine for years and they’re unused to the level of online fame they’ve suddenly achieved.

It’s easy for Harry to brush it off and ignore it (despite the teasing they get around the test kitchen) because Louis is happily married and has been for years—since just before they met for the first time. Or, it was easy to brush it off, but at the beginning of the summer, just as they’re leading up to the stress of planning the annual holiday issue, Louis and his husband decide to file for divorce.

📖 Are you afraid of God? by @lightwoodsmagic (53k)

A Bioshock Infinite AU where nothing is ever as it seems, and time is always irrelevant.

📖 The Happiest Season by @sadaveniren (37k)

A fic loosely based on Happiest Season but make it ... different

📖 for neither never nor ever by @lookslikefairytale (28k)

the one where Harry travels through time and has to come to terms with losing everything he's ever known. Louis might be the only thing that feels real.

📖 others i've seen might never be mean (but they would never do) by @cherrylouvol6 (20k)

a When Harry Met Sally AU in which Louis says all the wrong things and Harry always feels one step behind.

📖 Love and Other Antidotes by @haztobegood (16k)

Arrogant pop star Harry Styles is transformed into a cow by his bandmate Amy Z after a heated argument. Left in the back of a truck, Harry finds himself at a rural farm hours away from his band. Harry has three days to make it back to London and turn back into a human before his next show. His only chance to reclaim his glamorous life rests with a kind farmer named Louis. They must work together to find the antidote before Amy Z finishes him off and takes over the band.

📖 who's that girl? by @adoredontour (13k)

harry is canadian, louis owns a bar, zayn comes and goes as he pleases, liam's just trying to keep everyone alive, and nobody knows what niall does. a new girl au.

📖 tyger! tyger! burning bright by @canyonemoon (12k)

They put on the Great British Bake Off, in a house in Donny, in England, that’s maybe inhabited by two ghosts, two lovers, stuck in the house where they used to have a life, so far away from the time they were born in. // A Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Harry and Louis died in a fire in the late 1800's, but death isn't the end. 

📖 you caught me at the right time by @leedsau (10k)

When Harry and Louis visit San Junipero, a fun-loving beach town full of surf, sun, and sex, their lives are changed.

📖 Brighten My Northern Sky by @harrieberrie (10k)

Ser·en·dip·i·ty

the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

or

Harry, Louis, a phone number and fate

📖 Feels So Right by @jacaranda-bloom (8k)

The emcee leans in between them, handing over his mic to the blue-eyed vision. “You know what? Someday… Someday you guys might thank me for this...”

OR the one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

📖 If Only We Wish Hard Enough by @lululawrence (5k)

the five times fic where Louis is Peter Pan, Harry is his best friend Tinkerbelle, and it takes them awhile but they figure things out.