#Zayn malik

[fanfics-and-shlt]

No but fr I wanna be in a poly relationship with one direction

Pretty polyam of middle school girls to have a crush on the whole boy band, if I'm being honest

[narrycherries]

ivy: how’s one to know..

(enemies to lovers) harry is just an ass and (Y/n) is just a stranger

masterlist // ivy series (link coming w part 2)

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x reader, fem reader, angst

[before you start: I wrote the female character with a description (blonde, blue eyes, short, thicker build) but of course feel free to change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” (Y/n)’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” (Y/n) snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered (Y/n) that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that (Y/n) couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so (Y/n) has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in (Y/n)’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which (Y/n) thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and (Y/n) had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined (Y/n) on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” (Y/n) laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. (Y/n) was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than (Y/n) was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but (Y/n) mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. (Y/n) was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones (Y/n) remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of (Y/n)’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. (Y/n) had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. (Y/n) was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew (Y/n) wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

(Y/n)’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

(Y/n) chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to (Y/n)’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let (Y/n) cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

(Y/n) pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When (Y/n) knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed (Y/n) down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, (Y/n) offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

(Y/n) nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of (Y/n)’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, (Y/n), I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” (Y/n) asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

(Y/n) squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

(Y/n) was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” (Y/n) couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to (Y/n). “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

(Y/n) was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance (Y/n)’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as (Y/n) slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

(Y/n) shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, (Y/n) agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught (Y/n)’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” (Y/n) said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed (Y/n) to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

(Y/n) heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember (Y/n)? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as (Y/n) approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. (Y/n) turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where (Y/n) was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ (Y/n) stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for (Y/n) to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

(Y/n) was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

(Y/n) was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

(Y/n) didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, (Y/n) in two as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“(Y/n) is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” (Y/n) asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as (Y/n) could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” (Y/n) encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards (Y/n). “Can you check?”

(Y/n) laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

(Y/n) looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

(Y/n) was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

(Y/n) wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and (Y/n) became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

(Y/n) stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. (Y/n) waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” (Y/n) complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where (Y/n) was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ (Y/n) asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

(Y/n) remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

(Y/n) smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, (Y/n)! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, (Y/n).” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, (Y/n) was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left (Y/n) in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. (Y/n) was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as (Y/n) returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe (Y/n) was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as (Y/n) busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“(Y/n), please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

(Y/n) walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break (Y/n). The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!]

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

[louisupdates]

One Direction recording with Band Aid in 2014 “Do They Know It’s Christmas” 🎄 [via 25_zjm_93]

[specklelouis]

pretend i’m posting this yesterday 😁

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 15

word count: 7.1k

Aspen hurried home after her last class, her bag slung over one shoulder as she practically sprinted up the stairs to her apartment. Her heart raced, not just from the exertion but from the bubbling anticipation that had been simmering all day. Once inside, she dropped her things by the door and immediately headed to her room, her mind spinning with thoughts of the evening ahead. This wasn't just any evening—it was their first real date.

She turned to her small mirror, her hands resting on the edge of the desk as she studied her reflection. Her cheeks were already pink from excitement, and she let out a soft sigh, smoothing a stray strand of hair back. Focus, Aspen, she told herself. She grabbed her claw clip and released her hair, shaking it out before heading to the bathroom. A quick shower was her first order of business, and as the warm water cascaded over her, she let her thoughts wander to Harry. She couldn't help but smile as she imagined his crooked grin, the way his green eyes seemed to pierce right through her.

Wrapped in a towel, Aspen padded back to her room and opened her closet. She had already decided on her outfit—a pair of denim overalls paired with a fitted black long-sleeve—but she pulled it out and laid it on the bed with care. She took her time with her makeup, dabbing a bit of concealer under her eyes and blending it carefully. She opted for soft, natural tones—a hint of blush, some mascara to define her lashes, and a swipe of tinted lip balm that made her lips look just kissed. Her hair was next, and after some deliberation, she decided to pull it back into a loose claw clip, a few face-framing strands falling softly around her cheeks.

By the time she finished getting ready, her nerves had kicked up a notch. She glanced at the clock—4:55 p.m. Harry would be here any minute.

Aspen fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, taking a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her black long-sleeve hugged her frame just right, and the denim overalls gave her a playful, effortless charm. She debated for a fleeting moment whether to add a necklace or keep things simple, ultimately deciding on a dainty silver chain her mom had given her years ago. It felt like a small piece of home, grounding her amid the whirlwind of emotions.

Her thoughts drifted to Harry, and a soft smile curved her lips. She hadn't dated much—well, at all—and the idea of going out with someone as effortlessly confident and magnetic as Harry was both thrilling and terrifying. But then she remembered the way he looked at her, how his teasing words always held an undercurrent of warmth, and how safe he made her feel despite her awkwardness. It was Harry, she reminded herself. She didn't have to pretend or perform. He liked her for her, even if she didn't entirely understand why.

Still, the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't settle. What if she said the wrong thing? Or worse, tripped over her own feet? She shook her head at the thought, laughing softly at herself. "Stop overthinking," she whispered. "It's just Harry."

But that was the thing—it wasn't just Harry. He had quickly become someone special, someone who saw her in a way she hadn't been seen before. The thought made her chest tighten, but it was a good kind of ache, one filled with possibility.

She spritzed a light vanilla-scented perfume, the familiar scent giving her a small boost of confidence. As she set the bottle down, her phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Harry:

Harry ⭐: Outside, love. No rush. Take your time.

Her heart skipped a beat at the simple message, his casual thoughtfulness wrapping around her like a warm hug. She slipped on her favorite pair of white sneakers, grabbed her small crossbody bag, and paused by the door. Her hands hovered over the handle as she took one final steadying breath. This was it. Their first real date.

Harry stood outside Aspen's apartment door, the bouquet resting against his forearm as he adjusted his grip. For the first time in a long while, he felt the kind of nervous energy that made his heart thrum faster than usual. He wasn't sure what it was about her that did this to him. Normally, confidence came easily—effortlessly even—but around Aspen, it was different. She made him feel like he wanted to try, to get it right, to be someone worthy of the way her eyes lit up when she smiled.

His free hand ran through his hair, still slightly damp from his earlier shower. He'd styled it loosely, letting the natural curls fall where they wanted. His usual black t-shirt and jeans were tempting, but he knew tonight was special. That dark green button-up he'd chosen clung comfortably to his frame, and the rolled-up sleeves gave just the right balance between casual and effort. He tugged the edge of his shirt down absently, double-checking himself in the reflection of a nearby window.

He sighed, catching the ghost of his nervous expression. What was wrong with him? He had done plenty of casual outings, flirted a hundred times without a second thought. But this wasn't like any of that. Aspen wasn't like any of that. She was... different. Gentle in a way that felt grounding but exhilarating all at once. It left him a little off-kilter, like he was navigating new waters he didn't quite understand yet.

The bouquet had been another decision he'd agonized over, spending more time in the florist's shop than he cared to admit. Roses felt a bit too traditional, but lilies seemed perfect—delicate, understated, and quietly beautiful, just like her. He could already picture the soft flush that would color her cheeks when she saw them, and the thought alone tugged a small, lopsided smile to his lips.

Harry's thumb brushed over the stems as he raised his fist to knock, hesitating for a split second. She deserves this, he told himself firmly. She deserves the best, and I'm going to make sure she gets it. His nerves still hummed under the surface, but his determination won out. Whatever doubts lingered in his mind, they didn't matter now. Aspen had chosen him—him—and he wasn't going to waste a second of it.

The soft rap of his knuckles against the door seemed to echo louder in his ears than it should have. He stepped back, adjusting his posture and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. His jaw tightened briefly, not in frustration, but as a final act of steeling himself.

When the door finally opened, Harry's breath hitched ever so slightly. There she was, standing there in her denim overalls and a black long-sleeve, her hair clipped back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She looked up at him, her wide eyes catching the soft evening light, and the corners of his mouth quirked up instinctively.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she forgot how to speak. Harry stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe with a bouquet of roses and white lilies in his hand. His dark green shirt made his eyes stand out, the subtle glint of his lip ring catching the evening light. The familiar crooked smile on his face was softened by something tender, and she could see just a hint of nerves in the way he shifted his weight.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and warm but with a shy edge she hadn't heard before.

"Hi," Aspen replied, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes dropped to the flowers. Her lips curved into a smile. "Are those for me?"

Harry gave a small nod, holding the bouquet out toward her. "Roses and lilies," he said, his voice softening even further. "Thought they'd suit you."

Aspen's cheeks burned as she reached out to take them, her fingers brushing against his briefly. The petals were delicate under her touch, and the sweet scent of the flowers filled the space between them. She brought the bouquet closer, her smile growing. "They're beautiful, Harry. Thank you. No one's ever brought me flowers before."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he took her in. "What? Tha's criminal. Glad I could fix that." His gaze flickered over her, from the way the black long-sleeve hugged her frame to the casual charm of her denim overalls. "You look amazing, Asp. Absolutely perfect."

Aspen's stomach flipped at his words, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her overalls. "You're not so bad yourself," she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered slightly, giving her away.

Harry chuckled, his grin turning playful as he stepped aside to give her room. "Come on, lock up b'fore you 'ave me standing here all night, staring at you like a fool."

She laughed softly, the sound light and genuine as she grabbed her keys from the small hook by the door. Her fingers shook just a little as she locked up, the reality of their first date settling in with a mix of excitement and nerves.

When she turned back around, Harry extended his arm to her, his smile softening into something that felt almost reverent. "Shall we?"

Aspen hesitated for a heartbeat, not because she didn't want to but because the gesture felt so deliberate, so thoughtful. Sliding her arm through his, she let herself relax into his warmth, her heart racing in the best way possible. "We shall," she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing as she glanced up at him.

As they walked down the path to his car, the world around them seemed to fade into the background. The cool evening air was filled with the faint rustle of leaves and the rhythmic sound of their steps, but Aspen barely noticed. She was too focused on the way Harry's arm felt against hers, the way his thumb brushed her hand occasionally as if he couldn't help himself.

For Harry, each small touch sent a quiet thrill through him. He had been confident in the shop, telling himself he could pull this off, but now, with Aspen beside him, her laughter bubbling up at his quiet joke about tripping on the uneven pavement, he felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. She made him feel seen in a way he wasn't used to, and he didn't want to mess it up.

When they reached his car, he let go of her arm to step ahead, opening the passenger door for her. "Your chariot awaits," he said with a slight bow, his grin returning.

Aspen giggled, the sound light and unguarded. "Thank you, kind sir." She climbed in carefully, her heart doing flips as he closed the door behind her.

Harry took a deep breath as he rounded the car, running a hand through his curls. He wasn't one for nerves, but something about Aspen made him want to get everything right tonight. When he slid into the driver's seat and glanced over at her, she was arranging the bouquet on her lap, her fingers delicately straightening the stems. The sight of her, sitting there in his car with flowers he'd chosen for her, made his chest ache in a way he wasn't sure he could explain.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something more genuine.

Aspen turned to him, her eyes bright and filled with something that looked like hope. "Ready," she said, her smile easing his nerves just a little.

As he started the car and they pulled away, the atmosphere between them was light but charged with anticipation. Neither of them said it out loud, but both were thinking the same thing: tonight could be the beginning of something extraordinary.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The pottery studio was warm and cozy, the kind of place that invited calm with its earthy tones and gentle atmosphere. The faint hum of spinning wheels and the soft strains of acoustic guitar music created a soothing backdrop. Aspen and Harry had claimed a booth near the back, tucked away from the bustling center where most of the other participants worked. The relative quiet of their corner felt like its own little bubble, and the low murmur of their voices blended seamlessly with the surrounding ambiance.

Aspen sat with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her fingers coated in streaks of damp clay as she hunched over the spinning wheel in front of her. Despite her determined expression, there was a light dusting of pink on her cheeks—partly from the warmth of the room, but mostly from the presence of the man sitting just a foot away. Harry, relaxed and slightly leaned back in his chair, moved with practiced ease as he shaped his own clay. His rolled-up sleeves revealed toned forearms that flexed subtly with every movement, and Aspen had to remind herself not to stare.

She leaned forward slightly, biting her lip as she concentrated on the uneven lump in front of her. Her brows furrowed in frustration as the clay wobbled precariously, threatening to collapse into a shapeless heap.

Harry glanced over, catching the way her tongue peeked out in concentration, and smirked. "Careful, love," he teased, his voice low and warm. He nodded toward her clay, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. "Too much pressure, and you'll end up with a pancake instead of a bowl."

Aspen huffed a small laugh, her blush deepening as she stole a glance at him. "It's harder than it looks," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. Her hands hovered uncertainly over the spinning clay. "You make it look so easy."

"Years of practice," Harry replied with a grin, holding up his own clay-covered hands as if to demonstrate his supposed expertise. "And by 'years,' I mean this one time Zayn dragged me here last year for his birthday. Turns out it's not that different from sketching—just messier."

Aspen's lips curved into a smile, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. "Well, I guess I'll take all the tips I can get, Mr. Expert."

Harry chuckled, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, the room seemed even quieter, like the world outside their little booth had faded. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the rhythmic whir of the spinning wheels filling the space between them. Aspen couldn't help sneaking glances at him, her heart doing little flips every time he caught her gaze and smiled. She felt her nerves begin to settle, replaced by the comforting realization that this was Harry—funny, thoughtful, frustratingly charming Harry. The same Harry who had a knack for making her feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

"Where are y'from?" Harry asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious. He wasn't looking at her, his attention seemingly focused on his clay, but Aspen could tell he was waiting for her answer.

She paused, her hands stilling as she considered the question. "I grew up in a small town about two hours from here," she said, her voice soft but steady. "It was... quiet. Nice in some ways, I guess, but it wasn't really a place I felt like I belonged."

Harry turned his gaze to her, his expression open and attentive. "What about your parents? They still live there?"

The question made Aspen's fingers falter, and the clay beneath her hands wobbled precariously. She caught it just in time, smoothing the edge with deliberate movements as she pressed her lips together. "They do," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "But... we're not very close. It's, um... complicated."

Harry's chest tightened at the hesitant way she spoke, like she was carefully choosing each word. He noticed the way her shoulders tensed slightly, the way her fingers moved more deliberately as if the clay could offer her some sort of grounding. He didn't press for more, sensing the discomfort behind her words, but the thought of her growing up feeling distant from her family tugged at something deep in him. He didn't want to push her further than her limit or make her uncomfortable by pressing the question of 'how so?", so he left it for now.

"That sounds hard, Asp," he said gently, his voice low and sincere. "I'm sorry."

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. There was something in his eyes—something soft and understanding—that made her heart ache in the best way. "It's okay," she murmured, her fingers smoothing the rim of her bowl. "It's better now that I'm here. Away from all of that."

The words lingered in the air between them, and for a moment, Harry felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her hand, to offer her more comfort than his words could. But he stayed where he was, his jaw tightening as he swallowed the swell of sadness that had risen in his chest.

"What about you?" Aspen asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her eyes lifted to meet his, her curiosity genuine. "Where are you from?"

Harry leaned back slightly, his hands pausing as he considered how to answer. "London," he said after a beat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I lived there 'til I was fifteen. Then m'parents decided to move t'the States for work."

"Was it hard to leave?" Aspen asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was soft, careful, like she didn't want to pry too much.

"Not really," Harry admitted, his smile growing a little. "I mean, my parents are amazing—married for thirty years, still act like teenagers in love. My sister's great too, though she was always the golden child. I had a good childhood, y'know? But... I never really felt like I fit in."

Aspen tilted her head, her hands pausing on her clay. "Why not?"

Harry shrugged, his fingers absently tapping the edge of his bowl. "I don't know. Maybe it was me being a moody teenager, or maybe it was just... I wanted something different. My parents are very by-the-book—doctor, lawyer, corporate type of life. I think they hoped I'd follow that path. But I hated school, acted out, got into trouble. I wasn't all too much 'f a fan of people breathing down my neck with some expectation for me to do better, even at my best I could offer, y'know?"

She nodded, taking in his words. "And tattooing?" Aspen prompted, her lips curving into a small smile.

"That was my escape," Harry said, his voice softening. "I started sketching designs in high school, maybe even b'fore we moved, and when I turned eighteen, I got my first tattoo that my parents knew of. They were horrified." He chuckled, shaking his head. "My first one was actually four months after we moved out here. It was a shitty stick-and-poke that I done myself after a classmate raved on 'bout them. Was somethin' like a stupid skull with flames around it. It's long faded now, hence the shitty job. But eventually, they came around. They didn't understand it, but they supported me anyway."

Aspen's smile widened, and she looked at him with something close to admiration. A soft giggle fell from her lips at his first tattoo. "That's nice. That they supported you, I mean."

Harry met her gaze, his own smile softening. "Yeah. They did. And they're proud of me now, even if they still cringe when I add something new to my arms."

The moment lingered between them, warm and filled with quiet understanding. Harry watched Aspen as she turned back to her clay, her expression thoughtful, and felt that familiar tug in his chest—the one that only seemed to come when he was around her. She had a way of making him feel like he wanted to be better, like he could be better. And for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he might actually be enough.

Aspen's eyes fiddled back to his arms, his hands still working over the clay which had now formed what looked to be a mug. She took notice of every scattered piece on his arms, from what she could see, a soft curve of a smile still on her lips.

"I'll let you look over them one day, if y'want." Harry's voice broke her semi-trance and she looked back up to him with flushed red cheeks. He laughed softly at her embarrassed stutter. "Sorry, love. Jus' felt you lookin', but nothing wrong with it. I look at you more than you realize."

His comment made her stomach flip and she took in a small breath, biting back a grin. He always knew what to say, always found a way to make her comfortable and not feel wrong for her words or her actions. He always understood. It wasn't like he gave a great deal of a speech on why she shouldn't be embarrassed, but the way with his words was a way Aspen understood perfectly well and it eased her mind.

"Do you have a favorite?" Aspen quipped, going back to fixating on her lump of clay that was more structured into a bowl now. With a satisfied hum, she softened out the edges. Harry let out a sound that implied he was thinking, his eyes darting over his own tattoos now. "'m not too sure, really. I have a few chest pieces, maybe those. Or the tiger." Harry etched patterns into the clay to attach the handle he had molded.

Aspen looked up with furrowed brows. "Chest pieces? The tiger? Do I even know you, Harold?" She teased, a small giggle breaking her once more. He followed suit, a chuckle as he looked over at her. "Yeah, 's just a few scattered. And the tiger is on m'thigh. Maybe I'll have t'show you one day, hm?" A smirk flashed over his lips, one that had Aspen's stomach coil and heat rise along the back of her neck and the tips of her ears.

She nodded shyly, pulling her eyes back to her clay bowl. "You're silly, you know?"

Harry raised a brow, his turn table coming to a slow stop, followed by Aspens halting as well. "Silly? What about handsome? Charming? Daring? Sexy?" 

Aspen only giggled and rolled her eyes, shaking her head in amusement. Oh, he was definitely all of those, so she shrugged and nodded. "Only if you tag silly onto that list!"

Harry chuckled softly, pulling the thin wire under his piece to remove his work from the table. "I will, but only if you put silly into your list of absolutely beautiful, and kind, and so sweet, and--."

"Harry!", she squeaked out and laughed, her foot reaching over to gently knock the side of his leg. Aspen's cheeks flared with a hot red now, her front framing pieces doing absolutely nothing to help her. 

The pottery studio was beginning to empty out, the hum of conversation softening as people wrapped up their creations. Aspen and Harry carefully lifted their clay pieces—her bowl and his mug—and walked over to the shelving unit near the ovens where the drying process would begin. Each step felt measured and deliberate, as if the weight of their work reflected the care they'd put into it. Aspen gently placed her bowl on the tray, stepping back to admire how smooth the edges had turned out.

"You're sure you don't want to sign it?" Harry asked, tilting his head as he placed his mug down beside her piece.

Aspen shrugged, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I don't think it's that good. Yours turned out way better."

Harry smirked, reaching out to gently nudge her shoulder with his own. "Yours is great, Asp. Don't sell yourself short." His voice held no trace of teasing, just a quiet sincerity that made her stomach flutter.

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Thanks, Harry."

The instructor confirmed they could return the next day to retrieve their dried pieces, and with that, they left the studio. The evening air was cool against Aspen's flushed cheeks, and as they walked to Harry's car, she couldn't help but feel lighter, more at ease than she had in a long time.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, Aspen stood in front of her mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her outfit. She chose a simple white Brandy Melville milkmaid top, its soft fabric brushing against her skin, paired with her grey fold-over flared leggings. It was a comfortable choice, but there was something about it that felt effortlessly put together, like she'd struck the perfect balance between casual and intentional. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, excitement curling in her chest. The spring air outside was crisp yet warm, the kind of weather that promised new beginnings. She made a mental note to savor the sunshine whenever she could.

When Harry arrived, he leaned casually against his car, sunglasses perched on his nose. His maroon plaid flannel hung open, revealing a loosely fitted white tee underneath, the sleeves rolled just enough to hint at the tattoos scattered along his forearms. His black jeans clung to his legs in a way that looked lived-in, and his boots gave his stance an easy confidence. He didn't have to try—Harry simply existed in a way that commanded attention without asking for it.

He grinned at her as she approached, the kind of lopsided grin that made her stomach flutter. "Ready to see how our masterpieces turned out?" he asked, his tone playful, but his eyes carried something warmer, like a quiet excitement that mirrored her own.

Aspen nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "I just hope mine didn't crack or something." She couldn't hide the way her hands fidgeted slightly, betraying the nerves she didn't want to admit to feeling.

"Doubt it," Harry said as he opened the car door for her. His voice was low and steady, grounding her in that moment. He slid into the driver's seat with a practiced ease, his hand resting loosely on the gear shift. "Y'put too much care into it for that to happen."

The sincerity in his words made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't explain, like he saw something in her work—something in her—that she hadn't even let herself see yet.

They arrived at the studio, the familiar earthy scent of dried clay mingling with the faint sweetness of paint. Aspen's heart picked up as they made their way to the back table where their pieces rested. Her bowl sat there, fully dried, its shape slightly imperfect but undeniably hers. She picked it up gently, tracing her fingers over the smooth surface and smiling at the way it had held together.

Harry's mug sat beside it, the handle firmly attached, its edges rustic in a way that made it feel personal. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands with a look of quiet pride. "Not bad," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "This might actually hold coffee."

Aspen laughed softly, holding her bowl close to her chest as if it were a fragile treasure. "Yours turned out great. Look at the handle—it's perfect!"

His grin widened, his eyes darting from his mug to her. "Told you," he teased. "Y'just gotta trust the process, love."

They decided together to skip the long glazing and firing process. "I don't think I can wait another week to see these done," Aspen admitted, running her fingers over her bowl again, imagining the colors she could bring to it.

Harry nodded, already reaching for brushes and palettes. "Same. Let's get creative, yeah?"

Their booth had become their spot, a quiet corner that felt tucked away from the rest of the world. Aspen stared at her bowl, her mind awash with ideas as she loaded her palette with soft pastel colors—blush pinks and muted blues. Across from her, Harry worked with the same easy confidence as before, layering a deep emerald green onto his mug.

"What're you thinking?" he asked, his gaze flicking up to hers as he dipped his brush into the paint.

"Maybe some light pinks and blues," she murmured, focusing on the smooth strokes of her brush. "Something soft and simple."

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a small smirk. "Like you." His tone was light, but there was an undeniable sincerity in the way he looked at her, like he'd just spoken the most obvious truth.

Aspen's cheeks flushed instantly, and she ducked her head, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't hide. "And you? Green? That's your go-to, isn't it?"

He chuckled, pausing his work to glance down at his palette. "It's lucky, I guess. Plus, it goes with everything. Kind of like you and your books—always a good match."

Her laughter came soft and genuine, easing the tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The quiet rhythm of their brushes filled the space between their words, punctuated by the occasional clink of their palettes.

Harry found himself glancing at her more than he cared to admit, his heart catching at the way her brows furrowed slightly when she concentrated, or the way she bit her lip while deciding between shades. She had a way of losing herself in her work, and it was mesmerizing to him.

For Aspen, the sight of Harry so focused on his mug was something new, something she couldn't look away from. He wasn't the cocky guy she'd met at Zayn's party in this moment. He was patient, deliberate, and wholly engaged, a side of him she hadn't seen before but found herself wanting to know better.

As the afternoon stretched on, the clay transformed under their brushes, vibrant colors and patterns blooming on their once-plain surfaces. The pieces felt like more than pottery now; they carried the weight of laughter and quiet moments shared, the unspoken connection building between them.

"You know," Harry said as he cleaned his brush, his voice softer now, "you're pretty good at this, Asp."

Aspen looked up, her cheeks still warm from the afternoon sun streaming through the studio window. Her lips curved into a shy smile, her voice just above a whisper. "Thanks, Harry. So are you."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur, leaving only the quiet understanding that had grown between them. Neither spoke, but the look they shared said enough.

As the afternoon sun filtered through the studio's wide windows, painting soft streaks of gold across the room, Aspen fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt. The faint scent of paint and dried clay lingered in the air, grounding her even as her heart raced. She glanced at her bowl, which now sat complete and drying on the table before her. The pastel hues of pink and faint blue felt almost too revealing, like they carried all of the emotions she hadn't yet been brave enough to voice aloud.

In the bowl's center was a simple yet deliberate design: a baby pink conversation heart with soft light blue edging, bearing the words "BE MINE?" written in delicate, careful strokes. Around the rim were tiny white daisies, their petals soft and hopeful, and at the bottom, nestled subtly on the curve, were their initials: "h & a," etched in lowercase cursive. It felt deeply personal, yet it was playful, a reflection of her timid but growing confidence to ask Harry the question she'd been holding onto for days.

She'd agonized over the idea with Isobel, turning it over in her mind a hundred times. "What if it's too soon?" Aspen had asked, clutching her phone in one hand and pacing her small bedroom as she spoke to her friend. "I don't even know if he feels the same way."

"Are you kidding me?" Isobel had replied, her tone brimming with exasperation and certainty. "He's head over heels for you, Aspen. Anyone with eyes can see that. And even if—if—he said no, you know Harry. He'd never hurt you. But trust me, he's going to say yes."

Aspen had spent that night nervously sketching her idea on paper, imagining how it would look once painted on the bowl. Even as her nerves prickled at her, a part of her was hopeful—Isobel was right. Harry had been nothing but kind and understanding, even with her shyness. If anyone deserved her vulnerability, it was him.

Now, sitting across from Harry, she could barely meet his eyes. He was finishing his mug, a simple yet bold design in Green Bay Packers green and gold. Harry leaned back in his chair, setting his brush down with a satisfied grin as he surveyed his work. "Done," he announced, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "What do you think, Asp?"

Aspen glanced over at his mug, and a laugh bubbled up despite her nerves. "It's so... you," she said, her lips curving into a small smile. "It's perfect. The colors are so clean, and that handle—it's like a real pro made it."

Harry chuckled, tilting his head as he watched her. "Y'really think so? I just slapped some paint on and called it good." His green eyes sparkled, the warmth in them enough to make Aspen's heart flutter. "What about yours? Let's see it."

Aspen froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. She shook her head quickly, her fingers wrapping protectively around the edge of her bowl. "It's not ready," she stammered, trying to find a way to delay the inevitable. "Yours is much better."

Harry raised an amused brow, leaning forward slightly. "Asp," he said gently, his voice laced with patience but a playful edge, "you've been working on that bowl like it's the crown jewel. C'mon, lemme see."

Her lips parted to argue, but the soft persistence in his gaze disarmed her. She sighed, biting her lip as she gave him a nervous glance. "Fine," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly as she turned the bowl around. Then, as quickly as she revealed it, she hid her face behind it, her cheeks burning crimson. "Don't laugh!" she squeaked.

Harry's grin melted into something softer as his eyes landed on the delicate design. The pastel heart in the center caught his attention first, its message immediately sinking in. "BE MINE?" The words seemed to echo in his mind, the simplicity and vulnerability of them striking something deep within him. His gaze traced the daisies along the rim, each petal meticulously painted, before settling on the initials at the bottom. It wasn't just a bowl—it was a piece of Aspen, every stroke filled with her thoughtfulness and care.

Harry's chest tightened, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn't quite explain. He felt his heart stutter, his usual confidence giving way to something softer, more reverent. For a moment, he didn't say anything, letting the weight of her question settle around them.

When Aspen peeked out from behind the bowl, her expression was a mix of nerves and hope. "It's okay if you don't—" she started, her voice barely audible.

But Harry cut her off, his voice soft and full of something she hadn't heard before. "Really? You really want m'to be yours?" His eyes searched hers, his tone laced with wonder and disbelief. "'M so lucky, Asp. Of course, I'll be yours."

Her breath hitched, relief and joy flooding her all at once. Before she could respond, Harry reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles as he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. Harry intertwined their fingers and set them in her lap, thumb tracing small patterns on the back of her hand. "You've no idea how much this means t'me," he murmured, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

Aspen's heart raced, her cheeks still flushed as she managed a shy smile. "Really?"

"Really," Harry said, his grin returning, though it was softer now, tinged with affection. "And for the record, your bowl's not jus' good—it's perfect. Jus' like you."

Aspen ducked her head, laughing softly as her fingers tightened around his. In that moment, the rest of the studio faded away, leaving only the two of them and the quiet promise shared between them.

Harry let his fingers trace over the rim of the bowl, feeling the soft curves of the painted daisies and the faint grooves where her brush had left its mark. His chest ached with something indescribable—an overwhelming tenderness he hadn't anticipated. He glanced back at Aspen, who was biting her lip and nervously watching him from under her lashes, as if bracing for his reaction. The shyness in her posture made his heart squeeze, and he couldn't stop the soft laugh that escaped his lips.

"Asp," he said, his voice low and warm, shaking his head slightly as if trying to process what was in front of him. "This is... I don't even have the words. I's the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me."

Her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and she looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. "You really like it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

"Like it?" Harry repeated, his voice growing softer as he leaned in just slightly. "I love it. Absolutely love it. But you didn't have t'do this, y'know. You didn't have to ask me first." His words were gentle, but they carried a quiet intensity. "I mean, don't get me wrong—I'm so glad you did. It's just... Aspen, I've been yours for a while now. I would've asked eventually. Felt like an unspoken rule that we were each others," he smiled that lopsided grin that always lingered in her mind, "but now i's... cemented. Explicitly each others."

Aspen's fingers froze their restless movement, and she dared to look up at him. Her gaze was filled with a mix of emotions—nervousness, hope, and something fragile yet resilient. She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I know," she murmured, her words so soft he almost had to strain to hear them. "I knew you probably would've asked, but... I wanted to do it."

Harry's brows furrowed slightly in confusion, his emerald eyes searching hers. "Why, love? You didn't have to put yourself out there like this." The girl could tell Harry had no tinge of criticism, just that he was curious and genuine.

She hesitated, the weight of her own feelings pressing down on her. Her gaze flickered back to the bowl, her fingers brushing against the edge as if it were a lifeline. "Because," she began, her voice steadying slightly as she forced herself to speak, "you've done so much for me, Harry. You're always the one who makes the effort, who makes sure I'm okay. You've been so... patient. And safe. I've never felt that way with anyone before."

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, and she glanced up at him again, her cheeks still burning but her words steady now. "I wanted to give you something—a memory. Something real that you could hold onto. You deserve that. And..." She trailed off, her lips curving into a faint, nervous smile. "I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

Harry's throat tightened, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say. He could feel the sincerity radiating from her, the courage it had taken for her to make this gesture. Aspen wasn't someone who put herself out there easily, and the fact that she had done this for him made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world.

"Aspen," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He reached for her hand, his fingers curling gently around hers. "That's... the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me. I don't even know what to say."

Her eyes flickered to their joined hands, and she gave a small, nervous laugh. "You don't have to say anything, really. I just... I wanted to do it."

Harry shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles once again. He kept his gaze on her as he pulled back, his voice quiet but steady. "You didn't have to, but I'm so glad you did. And for the record? You make me feel the same way—safe, cared for, all of it. You've no idea how lucky I feel."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely audible in its squeak.

"Really," he affirmed, his grin soft and full of warmth. "You're amazing, Asp. You've been my girl for a while now, you just made it official."

Aspen ducked her head, her smile shy but radiant, her heart fluttering in a way she hadn't felt before. "I'm glad," she whispered, her words almost swallowed by the warmth between them.

Harry gave her hand another gentle squeeze, his voice laced with quiet affection. "You've given me a memory I'll never forget, love. Not just this bowl, but this moment." He paused, his smile growing. "I'm yours, Asp. Always."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When they got back to their car, ceramic pieces wrapped in brown paper wrappings and tucked into her tote bag that rested at her feet, Harry took a squick glance around at the quiet, empty secluded area before leaning over the center console to cup the girls cheek and pull her in for a kiss.

Aspens cheeks tinted their usual pink again at the sudden movement that caught her off guard. Nonetheless, she loved kissing Harry. She was grateful how he always took the time to make sure she was comfortable before initiating anything. Her dainty fingers wrapped around his wrist gently while she leaned up into the kiss. He always met her, whether it was him leaning over or him tilting down. A smile curled onto her lips against Harry's.

His lips lingered, working once or twice with hers before he sat back down with another lopsided grin splattered on his face. "Sorry, baby. Couldn't wait."

She giggled softly, shaking her head as he started up the car and buckled himself in. The hand that came to rest on her thigh gently patted the covered skin before Aspen got the hint and intertwined her fingers into his. Her eyes scanned over where they connected. The girls hand was much smaller than his, yet fit so well. Aspen's brown eyes traveled up to his wrist, taking in each etch of the tattoos, some messier than others but thats what made Harry Harry. 

Aspen relaxed back into her seat as the car rumbled to life and Harry began backing out the space. With a shy smile of her own, she looked over at him and back to the road ahead. "I can't believe I have a boyfriend." With a content sigh and a kiss from Harry to her hand, she felt at peace. Excitement still bubbled in her chest and she swore to bother Isobel about it until her ears fell off.

"First and only, angel."

[stairstothe7th]

Guys I wish I was a teen during peak one direction

Like when I was younger I couldn’t care less about boybads and when I did start liking them in middle school they had just Broke up 🥲😔

[keepingupwithzaynmalik]

firstwefeast: You voted… and our ultimate SAUCE CONNOISSEUR of 2024 is… @zayn ❤️‍🔥 He really BYOHS and for that we are GRATEFUL 🌶️

[justmissingliampayne]

my reason

[ibelieveinunicornz]

Me rn:

[iconszayns]

merry Christmas luvs !! x ha

like! :)x

[girlalm1ghtyy]

merry christmas!

have a very 1d christmas

[todayisdeadinside]

GUYS LOOK WHAT I GOT FOR CRISIS

IM SCREAMINGGGGGG

[zaynmalikgallery]

[spidermanpreviously]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

I know you don't know it, but you help me get through my day. I've found comfort in your songs. When I'm feeling down, I'll just watch interviews with you, and you'll bring a smile to my face.

I hope you go on tour soon so I can see you. I love you, Louis. I really do hope you have the most incredible 33rd birthday! ❤️

[zaynjmsource]

inZAYN via Instagram Story -25/12