#apart from harry and gemma

[ahellalottafandoms]

My favourite pictures of Louis and Lottie! Especially the first one... 🥰

[1d1195]

Toothpaste IV

Read Toothpaste here | ~1.8k words

From me: By popular demand 🦷

Warnings: some sexual tension, some oral fixation, and fairly sexy innuendos. Toothpaste anon, I know what you said but I wanted a really slow burn here. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But not quite yet..

Summary: “Did y’mean it?”

“Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date.

Harry hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for her to get out. Although she was already part way through opening it and Harry would have to remember that next time. But right now, he wanted her inside his house and would let it slide. “Let me,” he offered and took the bag of their to go order. She was so goddamn stunning it melted him. He put a hand on her lower back as he ushered her up the steps to his place.

Harry’s house wasn’t huge. It was just him, after all. A cute little porch was at the top of three little steps, a large window to the left of the door but she couldn’t see inside because of the curtains hiding behind the glass. A single chair and end table were in front of the window. A spot for reading and drinking coffee if she had to imagine.

In fact, she imagined Harry sitting there, completing a crossword puzzle first thing in the morning while the sun was still rising. If she lived in his house, she probably wouldn’t use the door to get to the porch. She loved the idea of a window that was large enough to open to the porch. It didn’t make sense. It was right next to the door. But it was adorable. To the right of the door was a large planter filled with colorful flowers and she imagined her extremely attractive dentist, boss, and date tending to a garden. The thought went straight to her heart.

Pulling the key back out of the lock, he opened the door and ushered her inside and closing, the door behind her. He put the bag of food on the entry table right next to the staircase. He reached for her shoulders, sliding his fingers below her hair and tugging the collar of her jacket down.

Her eyes adjusted to the semi-dark. Without any lights on, his place was cast in varying shades of white, gray, and black. But she could make out the room—a couch, a loveseat, and a coffee table. The TV hung above the mantle and fireplace. Paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls. Behind the couch was a bookshelf; each cubby filled with everything Harry enjoyed reading. She crouched immediately to read the titles. Harry brought the food to the kitchen. She didn’t take the books out but she pulled the ones she thought she would like down. “If you can part with these, I’d like borrow them.”

He smiled thoughtfully, leaning on the armrest of the loveseat. He crossed his feet at the ankles and his hands were in his pockets. “Y’can have whatever y’want.”

His kitchen was along the back wall, no dining room, but he had two seats around a small table—like an island in the middle. Everything was decorated so expertly. “Did you decorate yourself?” She asked.

“Gemma helped,” he shrugged. “We have similar taste,” he explained.

Gemma was Harry’s sister and not a reason for her to be jealous. But it seemed they would all get along swimmingly. “Can she help decorate my apartment?”

He chuckled. “M’sure she’d love that.”

She stood up and went to the fridge looking at the pictures and coupons that he had under magnets of places he visited? Maybe? Or maybe they were a souvenir from friends and family. Pictures of Gemma, a sweet little baby girl, and a woman that was most definitely where Harry got his gorgeous looks from adorned the door.

The place was so cozy and warm. She wanted to live there. Not to be dramatic, but whether Harry lived there or not. “I love your house,” she smiled. Harry stayed put at the armrest while he watched her inspect his place. He wanted to give her space and let her make the moves and make sure she was comfortable.

It took every bit of restraint for Harry to say thank you and not, it’s yours regarding her compliment of his home.

He was dead serious in saying she could have whatever she wanted. He was putty in her hands. Wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted? He was going to give it to her. “Can I take my shoes off?”

He snorted. “Course, y’don’t have t’ask.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.”

He shook his head with a smirk. He went over to the stove, turning on the soft light. It gave the room a romantic feel to it. Like how a couple would slow-dance to nothing but the music in their head. Then he went to her side and immediately dropped to his knees. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it took off rapidly, pounding so loudly she felt it in every inch of her body. She wondered if this was a dream because she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about it a lot in the time that she had known Harry.

His fingers danced at her ankle, skimming softly against her skin, and he coaxed her foot out of one shoe and then the other. He stood slowly, extremely close to her body. Only a breath of space between them. “Does your tooth hurt?” He asked. She shook her head. He smiled. “Good.” Then he kissed her. His hands on her hips and she knew his mouth was already perfect because he was a dentist, but she forgot that kissing would add a whole level to that perfection. He pulled away briefly, his eyes scanning her face for signs of regret. His smile was so pretty, and he sighed like this was the happiest moment of his life. She felt her chest aching something fierce. She slid one hand along the side of his face and the other went around through his soft hair at the back of his head and pulled him back in. He hummed in approval making her shiver involuntarily. “Are y’cold?” He asked against her lips.

“No,” she shook head refusing to talk when his mouth was there to kiss.

His hands reached down further, gripping the back of her thighs and he lifted her onto the counter. Bringing her toward the edge of it so he could settle his hips between her legs and wrap them around his hips. “Did y’mean it?” He asked, his lips peppering kisses along her mouth and face as he allowed her to breathe. Her breath came in quiet gasps. Unbelievably turned on and warm.

His lips followed the length of her jaw all the way to her ear before it took a turn and then descended down her neck. “Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date. But him kissing her was a good sign, wasn’t it? She didn’t scare him off quite yet. “Don’t be shy now, kitten,” he murmured into her skin. “Told me y’would open wide the second day I met you.”

She huffed out a breath of laughter as his lips trailed across her collarbone to the other side to complete the loop of kisses he was placing along her skin. “I did not say that.”

“Would y’open wide?” He pulled his mouth from her skin. She couldn’t make out the pretty green color, even with the stove light, but she could make out he was gazing at her, his pupils huge and lovely as he eyed her. Her throat felt tight with desire, and she nodded silently. His eyes stayed locked with hers. “Open,” he ordered.

She dropped her jaw. Slowly he drew his hand up her body, making her eyelids flutter as she waited patiently. His hand held the side of her neck and keeping his slow pace he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, then the top one before finally pressing it on her tongue.

“Suck.”

His other hand was holding her thigh still so she knew he would feel the muscle contraction from between her legs and he grunted when her lips closed around his digit.

Then she sucked.

“Fuck,” he hissed. She could feel him hardening between her legs pressed close to her core. “Eyes,” he hummed. She didn’t even realize she had closed them. “Did y’mean it?” He repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about. Her tongue was lapping at his thumb and swirling around it like it was his dick and that made her tighten more as he ground his erection against her. Thank God she wore a dress. “Did y’mean it?” He asked again. “Hmm?” she hummed around his thumb making him inhale sharply at the insinuating vibration. She whimpered softly as he pressed harder onto her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks desperate for more. “Fuck,” he hissed pulling his hand away. “Did y’mean it when y’said y’were falling in love?”

Her shyness returned. Which was beautiful in its own right. The way her mouth closed around his thumb would be a visual that would never leave his mind for long. “Yes,” she whispered and looked down at her lap, right where they were closest to one another.

“Do y’think m’not?” He asked, tilting her chin back up. Her heart fluttered and she felt breathless, stunned, unable to move. Harry was brilliant, had his own practice, and a house that was so goddamn cute she wanted to scream. Falling in love with her? No, she didn’t think she was that lucky. “M’falling very hard for you, kitten,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, melting her like she was nothing but candle wax.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...” he glanced down between them, where her core was pressed against his dick aching to escape his pants. Her dress covered her so he couldn’t see but he could feel how warm she was pressed against him. “Do y’want t’go upstairs?” He asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

“We don’t have to,” he assured her. He would probably have to take a cold shower and think about her the whole time, but they didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to.

His kindness was sweet, more than adorable. But if his thumb was merely a precursor to what laid ahead? She didn’t want to prolong her pleasure any longer. “Harry,” she giggled quietly. “I have a cavity.”

He tilted his head at her. “Are y’in pain?” He asked, concern filling his voice. He ran his thumb along her jawline, ghosting softly in case it was sensitive and hurt too much with even a touch on the outside of her mouth. He didn’t even care how rapidly the eye-fucking and the dry-humping stopped and changed to talk of toothaches.

“It really needs to be filled,” she said knowingly.

His eyes darted back to hers as realization flooded him. “Oh, fuck yes, love,” he moaned and yanked her toward him, kissed her, and carried her upstairs.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[harrywavycurly]

Do we ask Niall to be our man of honor since Gemma is Harry’s best woman? If so I’d love to see a little something of us asking him because as snarky as Niall is I know he’d cry 😂😊😊

Hiii lovey!!! Oh 1000% Niall James Horan is the man of honor, I will happily give you how it went when you asked him! I love how in this series it’s normal to just assume everyone is always crying 😂💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

A/N: Niall doesn’t do well with surprises but this really isn’t what he was expecting, enjoy a look at how you and Niall communicate because you two are besties✨

“Why are you in such a rush?” You ignore Niall’s question as your grip on his hand tightens as you practically drag him towards the back of the restaurant, smiling at the bartender as you head towards a private room that you had spent the better half of the afternoon decorating with the help of a very huffy and puffy Harry who wanted nothing more than to enjoy his Saturday lazing about on the couch, but who was he to tell his fiancé no. “What are we doing back here? Last time you and I went through a door like this it was in Paris and we accidentally stumbled upon that sex club place and honestly I still have nightmares about what we saw so please just tell me-”

“Niall.” Your voice stops his ranting as the two of you are now standing outside the door of the private room. You give his hand a little squeeze making him look down at you, his eyes are a bit wide and he’s bitting his bottom lip so you know he’s nervous for whatever’s on the other side of the door and you want to laugh because you know what’s waiting for him but you don’t you just bring your free hand up and give his cheek a playful pat. “We swore we’d never talk about that night again didn’t we? But don’t worry there’s nothing weird behind this door. Trust me.” You watch him nod as he lets out a deep breath as you let go of his hand so you can take a small step back and let him enter the room on his own. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at you over his shoulder and when you just give him a reassuring smile he turns his attention back to the daunting black door in front of him.

“Fuck it.” You laugh as he mumbles the words as his hand grips the doorknob giving it a twist so it’ll open. You slowly follow him into the little room and you clasp your hands behind your back as you watch Niall take in the sight before him. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” His eyes are the size of golf balls as he fully steps into the room, not sure what to focus on first.

You know the surprise in his voice is genuine because while Niall Horan may be your bestfriend, when he found out you and Harry were getting married he didn’t assume he was going to be apart of it other than a guest or maybe a groomsman for Harry but that was a big maybe since everyone has always considered Niall more yours than Harry’s. So asking him to not only be in your wedding party but the Man of Honor wasn’t something he was expecting so he surly wasn’t prepared to be asked like this.

You got fancy silver balloons that spelled out “Be my Man of Honor?” And hung them on the wall above the little couch that was in the room and then got white and powder pink streamers and hung them from the ceiling framing the balloons and on the wall across from the couch you picked some of your favorite photos of the two of you throughout your decade long friendship and clipped them to some fairy lights that Harry neatly hung in nice rows while you stood off to the side and supervised. Sitting on the table in front of the couch was a basket filled with random things Niall would need to help plan wedding activities, a flask with his name engraved on it and his title, little bottles of his favorite liquor and a card that would no doubt make him cry when he reads it. But the thing that you know was going to really send him into shock was the two pints of Guinness sitting next to the basket, something you know he’d instantly take as your way of bribing him to say yes and normally he wouldn’t be wrong but this time it was just a token of your love and appreciation for him.

“Did you really think I’d be able to marry that lanky hunk of a man without the help of my bestfriend?” Niall turns to look at you from where he’s standing in the middle of the room and you feel your eyes begin to get that all too familiar sting to them when you see the look on his face. His eyes are still a little wide but glossy and his cheeks are a tiny bit pink while his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and you know he’s doing his best not to full on lose it.

“You’re a proper asshole for this.” Is all he says before you meet him half way and he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders bringing you into his chest for a hug. “Like really you get me all dressed up just to make me fucking cry in a back room of a pub.” You just laugh as your arms wrap around his middle, you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head and let out a sigh. “Tammy is gonna be pissed you didn’t ask her.”

“Tammy? You thought I’d ask Tammy to be my maid of honor?” You pull away from him just enough so you can look up at him with a raised brow making him just shrug as he looks down at you. “Niall she doesn’t even like Harry why would I ask her to help me plan my wedding to him?”

“I mean I don’t like him either and here I am.”

“Oh shut up you love him.”

“Yeah whatever. So what’s a man of honor do anyway? Is this a paying gig?” You can’t help but laugh and shake your head as Niall releases his hold on you so he can walk over to the table and take a look at what you put in the basket. “Is this a checklist of things I have to do? Why do I have to do so bloody much? It’s your wedding not mine.” His tone is teasing as he flips through the notebook you put in the basket that had random things in it that you found online that listed what most maid of honors did so you figured a man of honor could do them as well. “This says hold the bride’s dress while she pees? Now I love you and all but I’m not holding your dress while you pee.” He states as he looks from the notebook and over to you.

“I held your hair when you got sick at Halloween two years ago when Amelia was out of town.”

“That was a wig so it wasn’t even my actual hair.”

“So? I still held it while you got sick. So why can’t you hold my dress while I pee? It’s not like you’ll see anything you big ninny.”

“Ninny? Real mature. Does Harry know one of my jobs is watching you take a piss?”

“No but-”

“You know how weird he’s always been about people getting too close to you and that was before he went and decided to marry you. I can’t imagine he’s gonna take too kindly to seeing me follow you into the bathroom so I can assist you in taking a leak.”

“Fine I’ll have someone else assist me during my bathroom breaks you asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole I’m being a proper gentleman and not trying to get an inappropriate glimpse of my bestfriend’s lady bits on her actual fucking wedding day.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both of you have your hands on your hips and playful glares in your eyes but Niall is first to break as his mouth forms a grin before he starts laughing making you laugh as well.

“I love you Niall.” Your voice is soft once you finally get your laughter under control, you reach for one of his hands so you can give it a nice squeeze. “Thank you for being my man of honor.” You add making him shrug as he leans down and grabs one of the pints of Guinness off the table with his free hand.

“I love you too and you’re welcome because it says here I get to plan your bachelorette party so you’re in for a world of fun love.” You roll your eyes when he shoots you a wink before he brings the pint up to his lips to take a good long swig. “I’m thinking strippers and a round of golf. How’s that sound?”

“Horrible.”

[iamasphodelknox]

Title: Half Agony, Half Hope Author: asphodelknox Rating: Explicit Pairing: Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles, Liam Payne/Zayn Malik, Niall Horan/Gemma Styles Word count: 132K Summary:

Harry had never believed the rumors of the beast at the manor on the hill. They sounded like something from Twilight or an old Hollywood horror film, a beautiful man who turned into a beast once a month and killed anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck on the manor’s grounds. Yeah, right. The manor was probably just creepy and old. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do. Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart? It's not really haunted anyway... is it?

Here we go! Go read here!

[daisyblog]

Kiss Me

Too Young Masterlist Summary: YN and Louis get cosy on a night-out.

Warning: smoking, alcohol, protected sex

Lottie had nagged YN for weeks to join her on her night out with Louis, Niall and some other mutual friends they all had. YN had tried to use every excuse but Lottie had an answer for each of them. 

Like brother like sister, YN thought! 

After her Mum had coaxed her around saying it was important that she was just YN sometimes and not just a Mum, she agreed. Gemma had offered to look after Arthur as she lived in London and knew YN wouldn’t want to be too far away from him. 

YN was hoping Harry would join them but he had flown out to America a few days prior to meet up with Jeff. 

Since YN and Harry’s conversation at Jay’s house a few weeks ago, YN had tried to be a little more open minded about her situation with Louis. Nothing had changed between the two but she was trying to let her walls down and not be so guarded around him. 

YN couldn’t help but think back to earlier in the evening, when they were both at Louis house getting ready. 

After having Arthur, YN was aware that her body had changed. She was never one to think too much about her appearance, but since that one comment, “Looks like you’re taking a little longer to lose the baby weight.”  from another mum in a baby class she took Arthur to, she felt like she was always conscious about how she looked. 

So when YN pulled up her jeans, she couldn’t help but notice the way they squeezed at her hips. 

Louis noticed YN’s sour expression when she walked into the living room. “You alright darlin'?”. 

“I just hate how I look…my jeans don’t fit and..and I just feel ugly!”. YN took a long breath after she got it all off her chest. "I don't know if I should come Lou.".

Louis wanted to tell her he thought she was beautiful. Her eyes were piercing and one of the first thing he noticed about her all those years ago. How he admires her petite body, because without it he wouldn't have his precious little boy.

He reluctantly walked closer to her, lifting her chin with his thumb and finger. "You're stubborn, strong willed , and a pain in my arse..but the word ugly does not describe you, love!".

There was only a slight gap between them now. If either of them moved an inch, their chests would be touching. Almost like they could both feel the atmosphere change, their eyes met. Louis' hand was now on YN's cheek, hiding the now blush that had appeared at the realisation of how close they were.

YN nervously gulped back her nerves when she saw Louis eyes flick down to her lips, only to move back to meet her eyes again. Time stood still as they both felt themselves being pulled closer. But the sound of Louis' phone ringing made them both jump apart, YN busied herself with filling up her small clutch bag and Louis reached for his pocket.

"It's Lottie!". Louis internally thanked his sister for ruining his moment...good timing Lotts!

---

The group had been at the club for just over an hour when Louis turned and noticed that YN was stood in the corner alone. He looked around to see Lottie and a few of the other girls dancing together. He excused himself from his conversation with Niall and Oli.

"Did the sun just come out? Or did you smile at me?". Louis knew what he was doing using the cheesy line. YN shook her head and rolled her eyes, as she let out a small giggle. "Ah I knew that would make you laugh!".

"You've been spending too much time with Harry, his cringey jokes are rubbing off on you.". YN spoke a bit louder over the music.

Louis wore his famous smirk on his face. "Ey not even Harold could have thought of that one.". He raised his eyebrows so his eyes wider. "Anyway why are yeh not dancin? You love to dance.".

YN only shrugged her shoulders as she watched Lottie spin in around, a drink in her hand as she enjoyed herself. "I don't think I've drunk enough for that yet.'.

"Well we're about to change that..c'mon love!". Louis reached for her hand and walked them back over to where Niall and Oli were stood at bar. "A round of vodka shots please!". He shouted over to the bartender.

---

YN had forgotten what it was like to go out and drink. She could feel her muscles loosen each time she took an extra sip of her drink or when one of the boys gave her another shot of vodka. She had found herself becoming closer to Louis, her hand either in his or his arm draped around her shoulder.

Niall had teased them a few times when he noticed their position. “Hey the last time you were both out drinking you had a baby nine months later…I hope you’ve brought protection this time Tommo!”.

YN only rolled her eyes at the teasing and cuddled further into Louis’ side. “Oh fuck off Horan!”. Louis playfully spat back, but noticing how close YN had gotten to him.

“C’mon I want to dance!”. YN slurred slightly, her words coming out slower than usual. She pulled at Louis hand as they pushed through the crowd to the dance floor.

Louis was taken back at YN’s sudden boost of confidence, as she moved her hips back into him to the rhythm of the club remix playing in the background. As YN began to let loose, Louis couldn’t help but lose control of himself and could feel the excitement that was being hidden by his jeans.

“I’m going for a smoke, do you wanna come?”. Louis spoke into YN’s ear, hoping she would go with him. When YN nodded, Louis pulled them out of the crowd and hurried towards the club door. The cool air hits their warm skin, as the breeze surrounds them.

Louis takes a cigarette out of the packet and hands it to YN, lighting it for her before doing the same with his own white stick that sits between his lips. YN takes a drag before taking it from her mouth blowing the smoke out which sat between her and Louis. He waved his hand to try and get rid of the smoke as he coughed.

“Fuck, you’re smoke got in my eye”. Louis rubbed his eye with his knuckle, noting how YN was full off giggles. “What’s so funny?”.

“I’ve got deja vu”. YN spoke, taking another drag as she held her cigarette between her fingers. “How did the conversation go again? Oh yeah your eyes are pretty”.

Louis wore a smirk. He knew the tension was thick between them but this time it was different, he didn’t want to cross a line now they had Arthur to think about. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”.

YN leaned against the wall after she discarded her cigarette. “Who said I’m teasing?”. She started directly into his eyes. “Kiss me!”.

Louis didn’t need to be told twice. He moved his body closer so YN was between him and the wall. His lips found hers like it was a habit. YN’s arms wrapped themselves around his neck, whilst Louis pulled at her hips desperate to feel her close.

”Fuck” Louis mumbled against her lips, their mouths moving together as one. “I’ve missed you”.

“How about we go back to yours and you can show me how much you’ve missed me?”. YN spoke against his lips.

---

Together they moved as one through the front door of Louis house. Moans, grunts and drunken giggles could be heard as they messily moved through the house before landing on Louis bed.

Clothes were blindly removed and thrown to the side, their lips desperately looking for eachother whilst their hands were wandering bare skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Louis whispered as his lips left soft pecks down her neck. Goosebumps covers YN’s skin as an affect.

Silence surrounds them as Louis prepares to line himself up but YN quickly stopped him. “I think you’re forgetting something pretty boy!”.

“I thought we made beautiful babies though”. Louis teased as he reached over to the night stand to grab the foil packet, and rolling the condom down his length.

“We do but that’s for future us”. YN spoke as Louis gently pushed himself inside of her, both releasing a moan of pleasure from the action.

“Fuck me, you feel so good!”. Louis grunted as he moved in and out with a steady pace.

YN was trying to hold back her moans but failed. “Uh…uh…fuck…go faster!”.

The room was filled with grunts, moans and the sounds of pleasure as they moved around as one. After some time of swapping positions and pleasuring the other, they both came undone with relief leaving their mouths.

Later on they were both cuddled together, legs tangled in between the sheets. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something”. Louis spoke gently, not wanting to disturb the calmness.

“Yeah?”. YN continued to draw invisible patterns on his bare chest, as she soaked up the moment between them.

“I want us to be a family…like a proper family…and I want us to be together…you know like give things a go!”. Louis rambled, not naming much sense.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” YN teased, as she sat up slightly to face him.

“Oi don’t be fucking cheeky!”. Louis couldn’t help but smile as he tickled her hip causing her to giggle. “But yes I’m asking you to be my girlfriend”.

YN leaned in so their faces were almost touching, lips close enough they could feel each other breathe. “I thought you’d never ask!”. Their lips met for the umpteenth time that evening.

Taglist:@jillsvalentinex @itsmytimetoodream @peterholland04 @youcan-nolonger-run @chronicallybubbly

[sweetsbfreex]

the silk shirt

summary: it's the brits award 2023 and not only is harry's silk shirt your downfall, so is his drunken state.

warnings: fluff!

pairings: husband!harry x reader

—

“No fucking way,” you sit up when Harry comes out of the changing room. He’s Sexily dressed up in a great in a black suit, but that isn’t what takes up your attention. It’s the silver silk shirt he adorns, unbuttoned enough that you could get a peek of his butterfly tattoo. 

“What?” He looks down at his outfit, “You don’t like it?” He smirks, fixing the placement of his necklace as he walks towards you. 

“I did not say that, don’t be so vain.” You roll your eyes. And when he stands before you, you can’t help but let a hand fall to his bare chest. “You look very handsome.” 

“And you look striking, my love. Very, very beautiful,” he continues on, pecking your lips. “I knew you'd like the shirt.” He teases in between, gently biting your bottom lip. 

Tonight was the Brits! Harry had already walked the carpet in his first outfit and you had opted out, not in the mood to be shouted at from all angles. He also already performed in his second outfit, belting “As It Was” like the star he was. Now, he was in his third outfit of the night.

You throw an arm over his neck, pulling him even closer to you and his fall to your hips in balance. That’s until you pull away, only a breath apart. “You ready to sweep tonight?” 

“Love.” He shys away, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“What? You deserve it.” You tell him softly, running your thumb over his cheek. 

“I know, I know. Just— yea.” 

“I understand,” you chuckle. 

There’s a little pause, just for a second. “How much time do you think we have left?”

“I’ve got you, hm?” There’s that smug look on his face again. 

“Mhm.” 

And you think you’ve got him when he leans down to kiss you again. His soft lips over yours, before he moves to pepper kisses to your cheek and down your neck. You let out a sigh when he tenderly kisses the spot right under the hook of your jaw. And you restrain yourself from running your hands through his hair. His hands slither down to knead your ass. You can feel the pressure of his fingers and the band of his rings. 

“H..” 

You just want to be here with him, as he presses his hips into yours. 

He pulls away, “Not enough time, love.” He breathes out, still peppering kisses on your now swollen lips. 

“Please?” 

You palm him roughly, just like he likes it. 

Harry looks down, eyes blown wide. “Love,” he groans. He’s married the proper definition of trouble, and he knows it. But he lets himself lack for a few more seconds before he’s tugging your hand away and kissing the palm of your hand. 

“I'll give you some proper loving after, I promise.” 

You sigh, “You’ve got me riled up now, you oaf.”

He chuckles at your dismay, “You think I wanna go out like this,” addressing the bulge which stretches the fabric of his pants. 

—

It’s been a great night so far. You’re seated beside Harry, Gemma on the other side. But there’s a heavy amount of anticipation in the air as the nomination for Best Pop/R&B act is announced. 

Harry has your hand held under the table. Though he doesn’t show it, he’s as nervous as a cat on hot bricks. 

“Harry Styles!”

He looks up when he hears his song playing over the arena. Excitement was coursing through his veins. He hugs Gemma and fist bumps his cousin, before turning to you with a beam on his face. He kisses your cheek as he pulls you in a hug. 

—

He’s won Song of the Year and you and Gemma laughed amongst yourself watching Harry take a shot on stage. But it seemed that was all he needed to get his night going as he sips drink after drink. 

But Harry’s an affectionate drunk. And you know he’s quite buzzed when, even in the public eye, can’t resist keeping a hand on you at all times. 

His lips caress your cheeks more than usual at a setting like this. His arm around your shoulder keeps you tucked beside him at all times. And the hand between your thigh only gets riskier and riskier. 

“Baby, drink some water.” You bring a glass of water up to his face once you’ve noticed the way his eyes glaze over. 

“I’m fine, love. Gemma, tell your sister-in-law I’m fine.” 

Gemma laughs at her little brother, “Maybe take a sip or two, H.” 

“See,” you tell him.

“Fine.” He groans like a petulant child. But does as he’s told, downing the glass. 

—

It’s the last one for the night and he’s three for four, at the moment. 

“I love you.” Harry hums against your temple, his arm on your shoulder.

“I love you too, handsome.” You turn to him with a smile, placing your hand against his cheek. It’s just you two in this little bubble, or at least it feels that way with the way Harry looks at you. 

You lower your hand. “You’re a little juiced up, huh?” You tease. 

He lifts up his free hand, holding his thumb and pointer finger together. “Just a smidge.” Before he belched into his fist. “Sorry.”

“Ew, H” 

..

“And your artist of the year is…Harry Styles!”

In a drunken fit, Harry bangs his fist against the table, then shoots up from his seat. He hugs his sister and kisses her cheek. Then turns to you, his wife, who stands beside him cheering him on with unshed tears in her eyes. And in a moment of outright happiness, a fulfilled heart, and a surge of fondness for the women he loves. He sweeps you into a kiss. 

You thought he’d go the proper route, just a hug and a sweet peck at most. But his arm winds around your waist and his hand takes place on your cheek, before he’s sweeping you into a crushing kiss. And who are you to deny the man. 

It’s over fairly quickly, nothing too crazy. He was still on national television, after all, and his mum was probably watching. 

Harry makes his way to the stage with a pep in his step. You watch as he accepts the award, hugging the presenter. 

He clears his throat once he’s handed the mic. 

“What a night!” The room rises in cheers. “I want to thank everyone for listening. I want to thank my mum for signing me up for X factor. My family for their support. Niall, Liam, Louis, Zayn, because I wouldn’t be here without them. And especially my wife: thank you for everything you do. I love you, and don’t know what I'd do without you and your support. Thank you Brits!” He finishes off before waving and getting off the stage. 

—

“Are you having fun?” Harry mumbles into your air. His hands are clasped together in front of your waist, your back to his front, as you swing slowly side to side. 

You're presently at the after party, changed into your second outfit of the night, and Harry into his fourth. You’ve had a few in you too, and the both of you truly just danced the night away and mingled with your friends that were present. 

“The best night,” you drop your head on his shoulder, looking up into his emerald gaze. Harry looks down at you in return, a soft look in his eyes, but you’re pretty sure it’s the alcohol drawing his eyes together like that. 

Harry lowers his head to kiss the tip of your nose. “Enough to head back home?” 

Harry’s question is lined with the offer of a sensual night. 

“Definitely.”

—

a/n: i've missed writing for him!!! i'm so happy i was able to get some inspiration

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

[finelinevogue]

birthday boy

summary - harry’s birthday party ends up with cake frosting in his hair and your eyes

warnings: twinge of sadness but like it’s barely even there tbh, swearing, kissing, lots n lots of frosting

word count: +2.3k

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

“Anyone need a top up?”

You were laughing with Glenne as she finished telling a funny story about her new intern. You couldn’t really hear what the story had been about, due to the obscene amount of noise in the room, but you laughed anyway.

“Yes please!” Glenne slurred, drunk on her birthday alcohol.

You were just as drunk, not because it was your birthday but because it was your fiancé’s birthday.

“Me too, please!” You held out your glass flute as the kind server poured more champagne into it, after topping up Glenne’s first.

“Me too, please!” You held out your glass flute as the kind server poured more champagne into it, after topping up Glenne’s first.

After you’d both thanked the server politely, you both returned to your conversations with each other. You’d both just needed a moment away from crowds to catch up on the evening gossip so far, so you’d come to sit on the velvet sofas in the corner of the room.

“Y/N, I have to say, you did a fabulous job on decorations this year.” Glenne cheered.

“I did?”

You looked around the room and evaluated what you had achieved. The mirrorball in the middle of the room shone a thousand diamonds down onto the dance floor, which was a black and white chessboard set up. There were fairy lights hung up around the walls. A balloon arch was in another corner of the room, where there was a rose wall behind it, for photo opportunities.

“Yeah! I love it!” Glenne looked around the room too, taking in all your hard work. “Jeff could never pull off something like this.”

It had taken you a couple of hours to set up the decorations and Harry had been all pouty that you had to leave him for so long on his birthday, but when you’d showed him what you’d been up to he fell in love with you a little bit more.

“I would’ve said neither could Harry, but something tells me he actually could.” You laughed, Glenne laughing along with you.

“Speaking of Harry… Have you two decided on a date yet?” Glenne nudged your leg with her heeled foot.

“Maybe May? I… We don’t know yet.” You sighed, shoulders slumping thinking about how you and Harry couldn’t agree on the perfect date for your wedding. “I mean, my dad can’t make any time in April, but Harry’s dad can’t make any time in June and we definitely want to be married before July, but…”

“Babe, woah, slow down. Y/N, this wedding, no matter how much you don’t want to upset anyone, is about you and Harry. It’s the one day in your life, apart from your birthday, where you get to be selfish. Take it as an opportunity to build a wedding day that you want, not anyone else.”

“Yeah you’re right.” You said so quietly not even Glenne heard.

“H’s version of a perfect wedding will be a day where you’re nothing short of perfectly happy.” Glenne shot back the rest of her champagne and placed it on the table in front of you two. “So, really, plan whatever you want.”

“Yeah” You nodded and placed your half full glass on the table too. “Alright, excuse me, I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure.” She nodded and stood up herself, pulling down her short skirt and tottling off to find Jeff.

You walked past flurries of people, waving hello to people across the room who caught your eye. A lot of people you didn’t know, but Jeff had told you to send invites to because Harry and Glenne would know them. They were mainly Hollywood people that worked in the music industry, but there were a couple of faces you did know.

Gemma Chan was there and you made sure she knew you’d come and steal her away later for a catch up. Asif Ali was also there and you would have to go see him too, in order to bring some more smiles to your face.

After you’d finished in the toilets you walked back into the room to see a congregation in the middle of the room. Since you had organised the event and had no additional entertainment booked other than the live band, you were curious to see what was going on.

When you got to the back of the circle, trying to peer over the tall people at the back, you noticed Glenne sat on a chair with her back to Harry who was sat on another chair.

You could tell by the look in your fiancés eyes that he was very tipsy. His hair was messy on the top of his head from all the dancing around he had been doing this evening. He still hadn’t pulled you for a dance yet, but you two had been separated ever since you’d walked inside the venue. Harry was whisked away by Jeff to meet people, having a drink each time he came across someone new, and before you knew it he was dancing to Gloria Gaynor with the chief executive of Columbia.

You missed him.

When it came to events like these, even though it was actually his birthday, he was always so whisked up in the business side of it that you had to entertain yourself. It was never that Harry abandoned you, but you would rather not have to over-socialise. You put it down to your social anxiety and fear of social burnout.

“Now, a little surprise for my two best friends.” Jeff spoke into a microphone so he could be heard by everyone.

Some sensual music started playing and you automatically assumed that it was strippers. Your heart sunk at the thought of Harry having a gorgeous girl straddle him and perform intimate positions with him. It would be unkind of Jeff if he had planned something like that. Your heart lightened when you saw Jeff stand in front of Glenne and start pulling off his jacket sexily, before rounding to Harry’s side and wiggling his bum in Harry’s face. Harry’s drunk self slapped Jeff’s bum and everyone laughed. Even you.

Harry looked around the crowd, his eyes not pausing their movement until they met yours. The mischievous glint in his eyes made you wonder what he was thinking. No doubt it was something to do with wanting you as his lap dance, rather than Jeff. Jeff was doing a good job though, making everyone laugh and making his wife embarrassed that she ever married him. Luckily everyone was too drunk to care.

After Jeff buttoned his shirt back up and put his jacket on, he was handed back the microphone, nodded at you and you knew that was your queue to go and get the cake. They were sharing a cake, as they often did, so you picked it up from the kitchen with its candles and sparklers in before carrying it back carefully.

When you returned to the room, the lights went dim and the birthday tune started to play. People made way for you to squeeze through the crowd as you walked towards the birthday kids.

You smiled when Harry’s gaze caught yours. He mouthed ‘wow’ at you, but you knew he wasn’t saying it about the cake. As you stopped short in front of both Glenne and Harry, they stood together whilst people finished the song. You sang out too, looking at Harry the entire time and watched his smile remain constant as he watched you sing out.

The cake was heavy and Harry must have noticed because he picked up the side closest to him and took the weight off you slightly. As the song finished Harry and Glenne both shared the job of blowing out the candles.

Jeff helped take off the candles and sparkler to clear the cake so it was just a plain cake remaining. Harry took the opportunity to try and smash Glenne’s face into the cake, but she restrained enough to resist the force of his hand. Harry wasn’t paying attention to Jeff though and missed him coming behind him and pushed his head down into the cake, until it was too late. The side of his face and a loose curl of hair got caught up in the frosting and people cheered as he made a mess of his face.

You laughed as he stood back up and licked the frosting from the corner of his mouth, as if that was all there was to clean up. You stood still holding the cake and looking at Harry with endearment. He looked so soft and cuddly, and maybe a little delicious too.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry asked, as he lifted the strand of hair back onto his head even when it was still full of vanilla frosting.

You shook your head and laughed at him, knowing he would be a mess to clean up later. It wasn’t a second later after that thought that Harry used his own hand to push your face into the cake this time. He also pulled your head back, using your hair, so you didn’t suffocate inside the sponge. You managed to get more on your face, looking like you were wearing a face mask. So much so you couldn’t open your eyes.

“Fucking dickhead.” You muttered, but it turned into a chuckle because you were drunk and didn’t care.

Harry must have asked someone else to get a hand on the cake so it wasn’t your responsibility anymore. It wasn’t like it was very edible to anyone, considering it now had to face impressions in it.

You felt Harry take your hands, your eyes still closed from the frosting, and you could feel him guiding you through the crowds of people. His hands were warm and even though you couldn’t see whether it was him that was leading you off, you could feel it in your hands that it was Harry.

No one else's hands felt like home other than his.

His hands cupped perfectly in yours and you tailed him like a bind and lovesick puppy. His polite excuses to get through the crowd made him feel closer to you also, his voice so comforting.

When the crowd noise disappeared you assumed you must have been in a quieter room now.

“Harry where are…”

You couldn’t ask him more than that because his lips were on yours. And they were his because no one else's lips felt like home other than his. They were perfect against yours, moving over yours with such delicate precision that only came with knowing how best to kiss you. Harry knew exactly how you liked to be kissed and he was doing everything you wanted. His hands were even cupped in the right places under your jaw.

“You taste like frosting.” He chuckled.

You laughed with him, probably looking silly with frosting in your eyes. Harry had frosting in his hair though and there was no one that you’d rather be in this situation in rather than him.

“Happy birthday, H.”

“Thank you.” He said softly.

You felt Harry’s fingers wipe carefully over your eyes and relieve them of frosting. You opened your eyes carefully to watch Harry lick the frosting off his fingers with his tongue. He then brought his other finger to your lips to allow you to lick it clean, which he watched with beady eyes as you did.

“Good frosting.” You hummed in delight, knowing you had made the right call with the vanilla, not strawberry, frosting.

“Mm. Tasted better off your face.”

You laughed, hitting him softly over his ribs, “Oh, stop it you.”

“Never.” He shook his head and smiled at how he managed to make you laugh.

“I hope you had a good night tonight.”

Harry had looked like he had had a good night, but you could never be too sure until you asked him. He was very good at putting on a front, especially in show business , but with you he was nothing but honest.

“I loved it, baby, I really did. Just wish I got to spend more time with you. I mean, I love my friends and, y’know, all of them other people… but they’re not you.”

You pouted, somehow wishing you could’ve spent more time with him. You tried your hardest to finish all the decorations as quickly as possible, but you were a perfectionist so it did take longer than originally planned. As for the party itself, you couldn’t stop him from talking to people, no matter how badly you did want him all to yourself.

“Sorry.”

“No, baby, there’s nothing you need to be sorry for. Just one of those things, where too many people want my attention and yet I only want yours.” He shrugged his shoulders and he made you smile.

“You always have my attention.” You promised him, cupping his cheek softly.

“And I’ll try to give you more of mine this year. In fact, come my next birthday you’ll be sick of me.” He chuckled and stepped closer to you, not liking the 10cm of space between you.

“Could never get sick of you, H. Never.”

“Feelings mutual, lovie.”

He leant down to kiss you again, kissing your bottom lip with his and sucking on it lightly. His lips grounded you and reminded you that he was right here and he was all yours. You kissed back with force, wanting to show how much you really did love him, pushing into his lips with your own.

A minute later and your lips both raw from such loving kissing, you gave each other one last peck.

“More of that later, baby. For now, let’s go the chippy? I’m fucking starving.” Harry whined.

“Alright, birthday boy, let’s go.” And the rest of the evening was filled with chips, gravy and lots and lots of love.

[harrieatthemet]

One Is Enough II

(part I)

in which Harry’s horny and you’ve got a smart mouth.

“Not tonight.”

This’ll be the fourth time just this week alone. Although, to him, it feels like the millionth. He can’t remember ever feeling iced out like this; blown off or punished so cruelly.

The front of his body pressed up against you, his head just aside yours as he tries to sway your answer. In their journey down to the opening of your pants, fingers hungry to undo the zipper, he lets his hands fall flat atop your stomach. 

So you wince.

His frown lines deepen when he feels you to start to writhe a bit, trying to shake his grip off until he fully succumbs his release. Reluctantly he surrenders before letting out a sigh; sexually frustrated and completely confused.

He figures it’s better to just ask outright, “M’I being punished f’something?”

He sounds defeated when you turn to look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion when he gets a look at how painfully uninterested you appear.

Yes and no. And perhaps you’re not playing a very fair game or even so much as giving him the benefit of the doubt. You’re mad at him for something he said without him fully grasping the weight of it. But you’re also a little scared, maybe, so what better way to sort that out than to completely withdraw and retreat. Maybe lie a little, too.

“Why would you think you’re being punished?”

His eyes widen a bit before his brows follow, raising them almost as if he’s challenging you to keep being dishonest. He knows he’s being punished, which is exactly why he asked. Now he just wants to know why. You don’t seem mad. Disconnected a little, maybe. All he wants is to fix that.

“Dunno,” he pouts, his hands reaching out to grab your hips and create a little less space between the two of you, “maybe ‘cos I’ve been dying to touch you and y’wont let me.”

He takes your pause in response to prove his case a little bit, work the middle and show you how you’re only punishing yourself. Pushing all your hair to one side was a good start, because he’s got full access to your neck now. And before he goes to lick that favorite little spot of yours he lets his thumb trail the line of your jaw.

“Won’t let me..” he trails, mouth hovering just above your own to taunt you, “spread apart those pretty legs..”

It has been long. That familiar cold shot of chills down your spine is a brutal reminder. When his mouth moves to your ear, breath hot before he leaves an open mouthed kiss to your jaw, you’re about ready to fold.

“Won’t let me fuck you,” he’s practically out of breath, he wants to so bad, “please let me fuck you.”

The frustrating thing with him is he knows all the right spots to work. He knows what strings to pull, how to be persuasive. A sweet talker. Most times it would work. Except when his finger brushes over your nipple beneath your tee, sore to the touch, there’s a bitter lull of realization. And now the words ‘one is enough’ are resurfacing in your thoughts.

“Just,” and he’s truly puzzled when you give him a soft nudge off you, “I really don’t feel well that’s all, Harry, really.”

There’s no time allotted for a rebuttal on his behalf. Before he can even open his mouth to get serious you’re walking off, an exasperated sigh lingering in the kitchen long after you’ve exited.

He’s left in the kitchen; hard, disappointed, and even a little annoyed. If you were sick, fine. He wants you to at least lean on him to help. He can play the doctor role quite well, and rarely ever minds if at all.

But you’re dismissive, avoidant; anytime he tries to talk, you’re abrupt in response or completely removed altogether. He won’t outright accuse you of pretending to be ill. He’s not a dick and yes, he has empathy. However he is fed up, especially right now.

He’s sat aside you at the dinner table, his sister, his mother, and a few friends scattered about right across from him. A pre birthday dinner was Gemma’s idea; something intimate to celebrate Harry in between his shows. And everything seemed fine. Conversation was flowing, laughter prominent, the drinks abundant. The champagne was popped before Gemma brought out the cake an hour ago, but you didn’t even touch it. And you’ve barely said a word all night.

“Oh no,” it’s your third refusal of the night, “ thank you though, m’alright.”

Gemma's brows are furrowed at you, freshly opened wine bottle pressed snugly to the palm of her hand as it teeters a few drops into a barren glass. Your barren glass; one that you didn’t even ask for nor want. Regardless it’s in front of you now and stained with a stray drop from the open nozzle.

Gemma’s in front of you also, eyeing you curiously as she repositions her arm so she doesn’t spill the half empty bottle of red wine all over Harry’s expensive white rug.

“Did we bring th’wrong bottle?” she doesn’t put the cork back in yet because she’s not convinced. 

It’s definitely the right one; your favorite, even. It was a courteous gesture on her behalf and you even feel a tinge of guilt for declining. Especially because you know she called Harry in advance to ask what you preferred.

“Love,” his tone is hushed, exercising a bit of modesty as he leans in closer to your ear, “just have a little.” 

You certainly don’t want to be berated, especially from Harry of all people. Not when just a few hours ago he griped on and on over a plate of Rigatoni about how stressful the baby has been, how glad he was she went down for the night.  You couldn’t help but flinch when the ‘two under two sounds like a bloody nightmare’ remark came out of his mouth, piggybacking off a chuckle and squeeze to your knee. 

“I don’t want any Harry” you hiss, but frown as Gemma’s expression remains the same, “m’sorry Gem, just don’t really feel like having a glass.”

Of course, there’s a much more justifiable reason. Any other circumstance and you’d be happy to divulge, not just in the wine but in what should be exciting news. Exciting for everyone at the table except the most important person.

A small shift in energy invites itself to the dinner table, likely because you just very blatantly snapped at Harry in front of guests. So Gemma redacts her offer, assuring you it’s no problem as she slides the bottle back to the center of the table. Jeff shifts awkwardly in his seat, instinctively reaching for his own glass to take a bit of the edge off. And everyone else promptly follows him, as well. 

You’re a bit stiff in stature as you wait for Harry to recoil and move his arm off your chair. And he does, reluctantly but swiftly before settling into his own seat to create a bit of space between the two of you. It’s a little uncomfortable now; nobody really knows what to say. The expression on your face is a tell tale sign you’re keyed up and Harry’s meekly put off at your lack of manners.

“Hm,” his unconvinced hum echoes off the rim of the glass at his lips, “could be this mysterious illness she’s got.” 

The needling on his behalf has been teetering on insufferable for days. He’s managed to really work your last nerve, especially tonight because this is now his 4th snide remark about your ‘illness’. 

Leaning back in his seat, he tilts the stem of the glass up before raising his eyebrows at you. Almost like he’s challenging you, something he’s been doing a lot of since your dinner with Anne. He’s blissfully unaware of the mounting tension you’ve been combatting, unfortunately something that comes as a result of withholding a secret. But your patience has expired and you’re trying to refrain from digging the heel of your shoe into the toe of his loafer. Now you’re just fucking annoyed.

“Or could be that I’m 10 weeks pregnant,” your smug sarcasm is dry, drier than the red wine that's now dribbling from the side of Harry’s mouth, “cheers, though.” 

[lovecanyon]

STEVIE NICKS DAUGHTER

INSTAGRAM BLURB

harry x stevie nicks daughter (y/n)

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

liked by harryfan2, harryfan5 and 607,411 others

harryflorals HARRY WITH Y/N NICKS (STEVIE NICKS DAUGHTER) IN NEW YORK TODAY!

view all comments

harryfan7 pretending to be shocked 😮

harryfan9 i am praying they are friends

harryfan6 MANIFESTING

harryfan8 everyday i wake up

harryfan10 totally not having a breakdown

harryfan12 DID YOU GUYS NOT SEE THE FULL VIDEO OF THEM LEAVING THE RESTAURANT 😭

harryfan15 harry had a grip on y/n’s waist 🤭

harryfan11 i. am. screaming.

harryfan13 holy shit

harryfan16 the glare y/n was giving to the paparazzi…

harryfan14 yeah he and y/n are probably together

liked by harrystyles, gigihadid and 4,208,611 others

vogue What does 24 hours look like with Y/N Nicks?

view all comments

harryfan17 I LOVE HER

harryfan19 not harry being in the video 😭

harryfan21 when he showed up i screamed

harryfan18 y/n is so pretty oh my god

harryfan20 THIS VIDEO IS THE CAUSE OF MY DOWNFALL

harryfan22 whatever she wants 🙏

harryfan24 i’m pretty sure this confirmed her and harry’s relationship

harryfan26 i’m sliding down the wall

harryfan23 y/n stays slaying…i mean look at her mother

harryfan25 we are finally getting boyfriendrry

5:17

“Say something Harry.”

A smile crawls onto Harry’s face as Y/N laughs. Every morning he usually picked her up from her apartment and took her to get breakfast. It was one of their routines.

“Hi I’m Harry.” He waves his ringed hand making Y/N let out a cackle. She knew he was not common with being in such public videos but he insisted on being in her Vogue video, and she couldn’t say no to him.

“He’s awkward with cameras.” Y/N says which makes Harry bite his lip, suppressing a smile. Truly Harry despised cameras, yet the girl standing next to him made him want to be in front of it.

8:46

Tastes like Strawberries…

“I have a love/hate relationship with this song.” Y/N mumbles to the camera. Next to her stood Harry’s sister, Gemma who giggled at her comment.

Y/N always went to Harry’s shows. It was a staple in her routine. Seeing her rockstar boyfriend perform sounded like a dream to her.

As Y/N and the older Styles sibling continued watching Harry on stage, you could tell they both looked like they were having a good time—sporting big smiles while giggling like teenage girls.

COMMENTS

user110 harry and a nicks? makes sense…

231k likes 63k replies

user164 y/n and gemma at harry’s show brings me joy

205k likes 49k replies

user199 this basically confirmed harry and y/n’s relationship

181k likes 26k replies

user143 forever jealous of y/n

166k likes 14k replies

liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 906,711 others

harry_lambert Look who I found backstage!

view all comments

harryfan28 Y/N OH MY GOD

harryfan30 she is truly the moment

harrystyles My bunny.

harryfan32 HARRY?? 😭

harryfan34 sleeping on the highway tonight

jefezoff coolest girl out there

harryfan36 i just can’t believe harry styles is dating stevie nicks daughter

harris_reed my favorite girl ever

harryfan38 y/n is just so beautiful 🙏

pillowpersonpp the love of my life

harryfan35 all this is happening so fast

liked by harryfan37, harryfan39 and 903,617 others

nicksdaily Y/N arriving late to Harry Styles show in New York last night.

view all comments

harryfan40 LMAO ME

harryfan43 y/n is so pretty omfg 😭

harryfan41 her arriving late is iconic behavior

harryfan45 everything about y/n is just so perfect i can’t

harryfan42 i love her for that

harryfan44 when harry saw her in the crowd last night 🤭

harryfan46 he literally was going feral over her

harryfan48 outdid every harrie attending

harryfan50 she is stevie’s twin

harryfan47 y/n arrives late to every show…i would do the same tbh

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 136 others

yourinstagram mama knows what’s up.

view all comments

billieeilish such a flex to have stevie nicks as your mother

felicathegoat AHHH THE NICKS

harrystyles My mother in law.

yourinstagram don’t give her any ideas

pillowpersonpp aweee

annetwist such a beautiful picture

brittany_broski i love this so much 😭

mitchrowland the nicks!

emmalouisecorrin so cute

harry_lambert icons icons icons

florencepugh loving the photo

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia

[forwhatiam]

Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

*One More Time Again by orphan_account (E, 232.2k)

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (NR, 208.5k)

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Half Agony, Half Hope by asphodelknox (E, 132k)

Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart?

It's not really haunted anyway... is it?

*a cycle of recycled revenge by brokenbeaks (E, 103.3k)

In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance. Harry is, in practice, a two-legged curse. And Louis is just gonna have to put up with it.

Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren (E, 92.2k)

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

Gemma's Dad (Could Use a Guy Like Me) by lululawrence (NR, 82.9k)

The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.

Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

Here's Your Perfect by brightgolden (E, 54.1k)

In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his. However, he is nothing like the type of alpha that the omega academy prepares Harry for.

The Space Between by alltheselights (E, 39.9k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

*everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (E, 33k)

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

No Surprises by louislittletomlintum (E, 21.8k)

An office AU where Louis is a loveable brat and Harry is working himself out.

your rainbow will come smiling through by hazkaban (T, 17k)

When Harry isn't working at his stepfather's cafe, he's trying to make swim captain and trying to finish all his coursework on time. When he's not doing any of those things, he's talking to the boy he met on the Oxford Hopefuls subreddit. When they decide to meet, he's elated. He finally gets the chance to meet the boy he's been crushing on! When the day comes to meet his prince, he learns that his online crush is none other than Louis Tomlinson, captain of the football team and friend of his terrible stepbrothers. Now Harry has to decide whether telling Louis the truth is the right choice or if it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie.

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (NR, 11.2k)

The one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Normal Thing by sweetlarrybaby (E, 4.2k)

"I don't even know your name," Harry said, puffing difficult breaths in and out.

"Already at the final wishes, are we?" The beautiful man laughed. And, how could he laugh in such situation? They were about to die. The plane was about to crash and it was going to set itself on fire before they'd even hit the ground, and every last one of them would be dead. "I'm Louis, there you go. All your wishes are granted before your imminent death."

Peculiar Ugly Duckling by LadyLondonderry (GA, 3.7k)

Loowee is a fish.

Loowee is a fish born to a family of FOUS fish. You’ve heard of FOUS fish, haven’t you, reader? Yes, of course you have. Fish Of Unusual Size Fish, of course.

(There’s no need to tack the word fish onto the end of FOUS like that, but they simply do. It’s like having an ATM machine).

FOUS fish are all quite big fish, unusually large in size compared to the average fish of the ocean.

Loowee the FOUS fish hates being big.

[jqmalikhsgib]

sea view

two

varitymagazine

2,000,000 Likes

varietymagazine “fame just got to my head,” styles starts. “it was all my fault. im the reason my family was almost broken.” click the link in our bio to learn more about harry styles life, music, and more!

view all 10,000 comments

Harry Styles: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly! 

When we hear the name Harry Styles, most of us scream our lungs out. The ex One Direction member holds our hearts in his hands without batting an eyelash.

Harry Styles was born in Worcestershire, England February First to Anne Twist and Des Styles making Gemma Styles an older sister. Harry would describe his childhood like any other.

“I was just a normal kid, playing football in my backyard,” he states. “I’d make fun of my sister while she called me a butthead before we’d go and watch something on the telly.”

Styles opens up about being a child from divorce. “My mom and dad had problems. They’d fight here and there and Gem and I would just hold each other in one of our rooms. My parents finally decided enough was enough and separated. I was ten years old, somewhat heartbroken but ultimately relieved.”

When Harry was eleven he met the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen. She’d just moved from America with her dad and five older brothers. The moment Harry saw her, he just knew!

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of yn. She was breathtaking. I had to get to know her!”

Harry and Yn relationship begins when they were only twelve years old. From that moment they were each others first love. Harry states he’s never felt love like the one he’s had with YN.

Harry opens up about his personal life with his wife and his kids. Including the moment they became teen parents.

“We were young and dumb. The only thing we were thinking about was each other. When she called me crying, telling me she’s pregnant, we were just about to hit fourteen. We’d just started high school and we were scared shitless. I ended up getting a job at the local bakery and our parents helped us as much as they could. When our son was born we never felt so much pride and joy. We created this tiny little human out of love. Nothing has ever made either of us feel more proud.” Styles goes on to say.

Harry then talks about his dream of being a singer. He opens up about how silly he thought it was, but how his mom, sister, and wife talked him into auditioning for the X-factor.

“If it weren’t for my family, I would have never went to that audition! My mom and sister always encouraged me to live my dream. In my head it was a given. ‘Of course they’ll say this, im their son and brother.’ I thought to myself. But YN wasn’t either, I guess it was different when I heard it from her.”

Styles smiles as he discussed how he use to sing their son [Corbin Styles] to sleep. “He’d have this huge smile on his face. Every single time he’d close his eyes, he’d fight his sleep just so he could hear me sing. That’s really when I knew, I gotta audition!”

In that moment, Harry’s life changed forever! He was apart of the biggest boyband in the world, One Direction. Being put into a group with four other boys [Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, and Zayn Malik] Harry talks about his relationship with each band member.

“Being put into a group with four different boys was difficult, sure! Of course it was exciting and love there in the beginning. We’re just five boys who had the same dream. But we’re also five boys with five different personalities, five different voices, five different views of the world, five different love stories. We bumped heads a lot, especially towards the end,” Styles states. “I think after four years of constant tour, no breaks, arguments, screaming, and barely seeing our families, we were all kinda done. At this moment I was married to YN, she was pregnant with payton, so I wanted to be there for her and both of our kids more. Louis was about to have his own baby, Liam was dealing with his own battles, Niall had family troubles, and Zayn had left the band. We were all kinda worn out. It was time we ventured out on our own and see where life would take us. In a way, it made our relationship better. Niall, Louis, and Liam are all uncles to my children. Zayn was my best friend in the band, he was named god-dad.”

We asked Harry about his first album, how it came about. “It was simple really! I’ve been writing my own music for a long time. I went to Jamaica with my wife and kids and it was lovely. I put together my own band, figured out which songs I wanted out there, and once it was ready, we set a date and even prepared for tour.” Harry smiles at the memory. Though it never reached his face.

This is when we asked him about his second album. Fine Line had been release two years after his self titled album, Harry Styles. Hearing it makes your heart break.

Harry talks about his relationship with wife. He opens up about his arrogance, ignorance, and his affair[s].

“I’m not gonna sugar coat it, I was a shit husband for a long time,” Harry tells us. “The moment we made it big, I’d get this big head and think, ‘fuck im the shit!’ so many women wanted me and would do anything to have me. I was weak and stupid. They all knew I was married with kids, I never hid that from my fans or obviously the women id sleep with.” Harry takes a deep breath. “YN and I would constantly argue. She’d cry herself to sleep at night when I didn’t come home or back to our hotel room when the boys and I were on tour. I remember when she packed her bag and left me.”

Harry wipes his tears before he continues. “It was around the last few legs of tour. I’d been sorta seeing at least two women regularly. [for privacy reasons harry didn’t mention names] She wrote me a note, stating she couldn’t do this anymore. She told me I either needed to get my shit together or she’d divorce me and get full custody. In this moment I knew, I needed to find myself again. Once tour was over, I flew to Japan, took a few friends, began the process of writing fine line, and went to therapy. I was gonna do everything in my power to get my family back together. from there, YN, me, and the kids would work on our new dynamic. I was slowly getting my family back.” Harry states.

Harry opens up about how a lot of the fans blamed YN during the time they’d been split up.

“I wanna clear this up, YN had nothing to do with our split. A lot of people assumed she’d been the one cheating or using me. She was always faithful and couldn’t care less if I had millions or pennies. She loved me for me. Fame just got to my head,” Styles starts. “It was my fault. I’m the reason my family was almost broken.”

YN has been known to be vocal to people who constantly hate on her. Harry opens up about the relationship she has with his fanbase.

“I think if you can’t respect your favorite artist relationship, you’re not a real fan. Truth is, YN is my wife. I almost lost her years ago, I’m not gonna lose her over something so petty. She’s the mother of my children and my wife. People should respect that!” Styles states. He continues to talk about her social media comments and post.

“She can do whatever she wants! I don’t control her, nor does my team! YN has always been very open when it comes to our marriage. She’s not gonna sensor herself simply because others can’t get the hint. That’s one of the many things I love about her!” Styles finished.

During our interview, Harry opens up about his next album before he leaves.

“The next albums gonna be filled with more love than anything. I think this one will be filled with dancing, smiles, and laughter. I’m really excited to share it with the world.” Harry states before he politely shakes our hands and walks over to his family.

[justmystyles]

Lost and Found

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: in the follow up to lose you to love me, you and Harry reconnected a month ago, and he insisted you come along for the final show. when your emotions start to get the better of you, you wonder if you and Harry could ever really just be friends.

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: i had a couple of people ask for a follow up to lose you to love me, so here it is. i have a couple of ideas to possibly continue this story, so if you'd like to see more of these two, let me know!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“... I couldn’t have done it without you, thank you. For loving me in the way that you have, thank you so much. Thank you.” 

Your watering eyes were locked on Harry’s as he professed his gratitude for his friends and family. It was the final night of Love on Tour, and despite the fact that you had only reconnected just over a month ago, he insisted that you be there. He wanted you to be a part of this moment. 

“Pleeeeeaaaasssseee,” Harry begged from the other end of the phone. 

You chuckled at his desperation. “I don’t want to be in the way, you’re going to have so much going on, so many people there.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the only one I want there.” You sat in a knowing silence. “Okay, maybe not the only one. But definitely top five… maybe three.” 

You chuckle into the phone. “Alright, fine. I’ll come.” You groan.

“That’s the enthusiasm I like to hear!” He joked. “But seriously, it’ll mean a lot to have you there. And I had another thought, if you want to…” 

“Oh god,” you braced yourself.

“No, it’s not bad, I don’t think it is at least. After the show, I’m staying in Italy for a bit. The family’s going to be there for a few days, a bunch of my friends. Do you think maybe you’d like to come along?” He asked hopefully. 

You thought to yourself for a moment, he hadn’t been back in your life for long, but he had been determined to show you the new Harry. The Harry that valued you, and wanted to make you a priority. You wanted to show that same effort for him. “Sure, I haven’t been on a good holiday in ages.” 

“Oh, this isn’t just going to be a good holiday Y/N. It’s going to be an amazing one!” 

You were pulled back into the moment when an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You looked to your left to see Gemma, who was also tearing up, pulling you close. You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into a hug, your emotions starting to get the better of you as a few tears began to fall. 

Sure, the tears were about the show, about Harry living his dream on a level neither of you could have predicted. The energy at that show was like nothing you’d ever experienced; over one hundred thousand people were there screaming, crying and singing along to Harry’s words. People who had been a part of his journey from day one all around, crying, laughing, dancing, celebrating. But more than that, the tears were also about lost time. All those years you spent apart, all the milestones he’d hit without you. You didn’t feel like you deserved to be there. 

The people surrounding you in the VIP area had been with him this whole time, celebrating his wins, comforting him in his losses, but you weren’t. You were so happy to be back in Harry’s life, and as great as it was to fall back into old jokes and stories, there was a sadness that came with it. You would think about all the jokes you would have had, the things you would have experienced together, and even though you know you’d made the right decision all those years ago, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault. 

“H?” You say softly, nervous to ask the question, but your curiosity was getting the best of you. 

“Hmm?” He hummed softly on the other end of the phone. 

Ever since you and Harry reconnected, you were talking regularly. He would text you throughout the day, and make it a point to call you after he got offstage. Those phone calls would run up to, and sometimes well over an hour, Harry telling you all about his performance, and the fans, and then asking you about your day. 

Having him back in your life so much, so quickly was starting to play mind games with you. You loved it, you were so glad to be talking to him again, but you couldn’t help the what ifs that crossed your mind. And late into one of your post-show phone calls, your intrusive thoughts won, and you decided to ask the one question that seemed to be popping up in your mind the most. 

“Do you ever… I mean have you ever thought about what life would be like, what we would be up to if we had stayed together?” You were glad he couldn’t see you, you winced at your own question, your face turning bright red. When he didn’t immediately answer, you panicked. “Nevermind, forget I asked that. I shouldn–” 

“No no,” Harry interrupted you. “It’s okay. I do think about it, actually,” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your disbelief. “We would definitely be married, we would have been a while ago. Probably a couple of little ones running around.” He sighed at the thought. “A little girl that looks just like you.” 

“And a little boy that looks just like you,” you finished his thought. It was the future the two of you had always dreamed about. “The three of us following you around the world in our family tour bus.” You say wistfully. 

“I think about that a lot,” he says. “Whenever I see a family out and about, or if there’s a parent in the crowd, holding up their little one with those big earphones on, I think about how that could have been you with little Harry junior, or Harriet.” 

“Oh god,” you groan at the names that he has chosen for your hypothetical children. “Maybe it’s for the best if that’s what you would have named them.” 

Harry laughs at your reaction, but quickly goes serious again. “I still want that someday.” 

“You’ll get it,” you assure him. “You’re only twenty nine, you have time.”

I want it with you. He thinks to himself. “Thanks.” Was what he actually said.

He meant what he said when he told you he just wanted you two to get to know each other now, but he definitely meant it with the hopes that you could find yourselves back in that place. He wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move though. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare you away, if the only way to have you in his life was as your friend, then he would take it. He couldn’t go through losing you again. 

You watch the stage curiously. The last song had been played and everyone had run off stage, but the crew was now setting up a piano. “What’s going on?” You ask Gemma. 

“You know my brother,” she shrugged. “Probably something dramatic.” 

You laugh and nod in agreement, but before you can respond, Harry reimerges. He goes on to sit at the piano and play a ten minute instrumental. The crowd was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, you’d never seen anything like it in your life. Your tears were flowing freely as you watched the sight before you. There were so many emotions running through your body that you could barely breathe, but you wouldn’t trade being there for anything else in the world. 

Once Harry had finally left the stage, you walk with the group to the backstage area. The room you were waiting in was abuzz, everyone raving about what they had just seen, the room filling with love and pride for Harry. 

When he finally entered, the cheers and shouts that erupted were overwhelming, causing you to jump slightly. As everyone was rushing to greet and congratulate him, you slipped to the back of the room. Everyone there had earned their place by his side, you didn’t want to take time away from the people who had truly supported him on this journey. 

As you grabbed a bottle of water, you could hear Harry’s voice. “Where’s Y/N?” 

You snapped your head around to see him searching the room. A wide grin spread across his face when he locked eyes with you, and he immediately rushed to your side. 

“Harry…” you say, unable to put into words everything that you were feeling.

“Thanks, angel.” He said, pulling you into a warm embrace. Even after all this time he was still able to read you, know exactly what was going through your head without you having to say a word. 

He held you close for a few moments, you relished in the feeling of being in his arms, pressed against his bare chest. Your emotions began to get the better of you once again, and more tears began to fall. 

“Hey,” Harry said gently, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “What’s with the tears? This is a happy moment.”

You nod, trying to collect yourself. “I know, I’m just…” your breath hitched as you tried to compose yourself. Harry ran his hands up and down your arms to soothe you. “I’m just so damn proud of you, H.” There was more you wanted to say, so much more, but this wasn’t the time. 

Harry looked down at you, a warm smile plastered across his face. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out…

“Harold!” You both look over to the other side of the room where James Corden is signaling for him to come over. 

“You’d better head over there.” As much as you wanted more time with him, you were thankful for the interruption. Afraid of what you might end up saying. 

He nodded, a hint of disappointment on his face. “You’re coming to the after party, right?” You nod in affirmation. “Great, I’ll see you there.” He squeezes your arm gently before running off. 

The after party was a hive of excitement, everyone still on a high from the show. You did your best to be social with those around you, but it was overwhelming. You had seen Harry around, but kept your distance, not wanting him to feel as though he had to entertain you. This was his night, he’d find you if he wanted to. 

Feeling overstimulated by the loud music and the crowds, you stepped outside for some fresh air. As you stood in front of the restaurant that had been rented out for the occasion, you contemplated just leaving and going back to the hotel. Harry wouldn’t even notice that you were gone. 

“There you are!” Harry’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned to him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Hey, you weren’t planning on sneaking out without spending time with the guest of honor, were you?” 

Damnit. He still knew you better than anyone. “I would never,” you brush off his accusation with a coy smile. “Not like you would have noticed, you’ve got a whole bar full of people in there just for you.”

“Yet you’re the person I’ve been looking for all night.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you to his side. “Y/N, I am so happy you’re here.” 

“Me too, H. Thank you for including me, you didn’t have to.” 

“Of course I did,” he looked at you curiously. “All that stuff I said up there tonight, thanking my friends and family, you were included in that Y/N. I owe a big part of this to you.” 

You scoffed, stepping out of his grasp. “I haven’t been here though, I left. All those people in there, they’re the ones that got you here.” 

“Are you kidding me?” He asked completely seriously. “FIrst of all, you were completely justified to leave. I don’t hold that against you at all. Second of all,” he turned, putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you so that you were facing him. “You supported me before any of this. I wouldn’t have gotten here if you hadn’t believed me when we were kids.

“I’ve told you already, every achievement I’ve had in my career, you were the first person I wanted to share it with. I will never be able to truly express how much you and your support have meant to me. Always. Whether we were in each other’s lives or not. And to have you back? To have heard your beautiful voice every day for the last thirty five days? It’s the greatest feeling in the world, better than all of this.” 

Your eyes are filled to the brim with tears, your heart racing. Before you can stop yourself, you surge forward, crashing your lips against his. You feel him tense at first, but he quickly melts into you, one hand on your hip, the other running through your hair. You pour everything into the kiss, everything you’ve been feeling, not just over the last month, but in the eleven years without him. 

When you finally pull apart for air you search his eyes, trying to read how he’s feeling. His chest is heaving, he’s watching you with an overwhelming expression of adoration. 

“I love you Harry,” you watch his eyes widen at your confession. “I always have, I never stopped. No matter how much I may have wanted to, how hard I tried to forget you, it was always you.”

A tear rolls down Harry’s cheek, and you panic slightly. He sees the worry in your face and immediately cups it in his hands. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hoped and prayed that I would hear you say those words to me.” He brushes his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you croak out, your emotions making it hard to speak. He pulls you in, kissing you again. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips. “Always have, always will.” 

“So…” you hum. “Are we still doing the just friends thing?” 

He lets out a tearful chuckle. “We’ve never been just friends. You’ve always had my heart.” 

“Me too.” 

He places one more lingering kiss on your lips before taking your hand in his, interlacing your fingers. “C’mon, let’s go back to the hotel.” He begins leading you away from the restaurant. 

“But Harry, it’s your party. You can’t just leave!” You tug on his arm, trying to get him to stop.

“Don’t care,” He stops, pulling you into his chest. “There’s only one thing I want to celebrate right now, and only one person I want to celebrate it with.” He pulls you in for another kiss, this one slower than the previous ones. He knew that he had all the time in the world, you were his again, and you always would be. 

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. “I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t’fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060

ding: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[foxes-that-run]

What are your thoughts on haylor meeting up in late 2016? Do you think there was a slight chance of them getting back together, and do you think they would've made it if they did get back together? I know Taylor chose the safest option, but Harrry and her didn't even seem to talk things out, so why even meet in the first place? Didn't Taylor tell him she loves someone else, too? It's so confusing...

I think they did, there are enough crumbs to give it plausible and they both spent November and December in LA and London respectively. But this is in the same time the Joe stuff was starting so who knows.

This got long, sorry. The TLDNR is:

the canon is Taylor met Joe at the Met, dated Tom, broke up and in October 2016 went to Joe's premiere and started dating him. Although Joe was not in the same country as Taylor for most of that time. In May 2017 they went public and were seen 20 times before Reputation came out in November, it was super public.

An alternate timeline is that after Hendall and Hiddleswift both ended within a month and before Joe/Taylor and Harry/Tess Ward went public within a week the haylor sightings, being in the same city, songs, gifts, blind items, edited videos and friend comments were because they were secretly dating again.

because....

24 August - Hiddleswift over

22 September - Hendall break up again.

28 September - Taylor with Cara, Harry MIA, released Another Man covers/mixtape, Joe London.

October - Harry was in Jamaica recording HS1. Joe in London on 3rd. On 13th Joe and Taylor at Bowery enter separately. Joe is in NY for the Billy Lynn Long Halftime Walk promo tour so unlikely to have ample days ahead in NY given the films budget.

11 October - Taylor went to Joe's movie screening and the Rep book has a 19 November polaroid captioned "how would you feel about having a song written about you?"

3 November - Both are in LA for November with HS1 recorded.

25 November - Harry was seen in LA then disappeared for a week. Taylor posted a lot of photos of friendsgiving in RI. Joe not there. Taylor posted photos so would only show who was public.

28 November - is the first clue things may have been back on in a few months (apart from having both been in LA). Gemma (Harry's sister), Lou Teasdale (Harry's close friend & 1D stylist), Sam Campbell (Lou's sister and friend of Harry, married to one of Harry's friends too) go to Karaoke and post lyrics to WANGBT and Sam captions it "talk to my friends". 👀

Haylor Secrets posts that they are together, which.. that account may be totally fake, or making it up, but had been right about stuff

December - Both in London, IDWLF released, Taylor has a birthday party at her London House the Rep magazine photos are in, Harry MIA but in London. On 28 December there was an unconfirmed sighting of them together and Taylor gave Austin a record signed by friends of Harry's. He thanked them and the band commented that it was signed for 'a friends little brother' who turned out to be Taylor Swift.' Harry knew them for years and Sam Campbell commented 'LOL'

31 December - in 2020 7 photos of Taylor & Joe getting ready in her London house leaked with this date given. Why only 7? The date of the New Years Eve jumping into an icy pool story Taylor Nation edited out. If the story was about Joe why would it be edited out?

3 January 2017 - Lover journal that Taylor has been with someone for 3 months, no one has found out and she is living in London. It had been 3.1 months since the Hendall break up and 2.5 months since Joe got to NY. .....

7 January - Harry records Lately where he sings 'I don't believe what you're saying to me, "that I love him"'

13 January - Taylor records DWOHT and the IDWLF music video.

1 February - Harry's birthday, the rose ring appears. Taylor is in NY/Nashville, Harry NY/London and Joe in London.

April - Harry's Rolling Stone interview where he leaves the table when Taylor is brought up and says he wants to tip is hat to her about 1989, and give his whole cap to the muse of HS1, now over.

7 May - Harry seen with Tess Ward, the first time he has been seen with anyone since having dinner with Kendall in September.

16 May - a week later The Sun reports Joe and Taylor dating 'for months'. First time Taylor seen with anyone romantically since August

Even longer versions are in the 2016 and 2017 timelines.

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Chapter 9

7.8K

SO SORRY I WENT MIA LIFE SUCKED FOR A MIN THERE

_________________________________________________________

When Harry peels his eyes open at the crack of dawn on a Tuesday, he’s not expecting two beady eyes to be staring into his, mere inches from his face.

“Morning, sleepy!” Hattie’s shrill voice rings through the small guest house. She’s dressed and ready for the day, munching on some Percy Pigs.

“Morning, rug rat. Why’re you eating candy at half eight?” He narrows his eyes, slowly lifting his head from the pillow. “Gimme some.”

Hattie hesitantly hands him one, taking notice of the dwindling number of gummy candies left in the bag.

“Mumma left already and Daddy took a phone call,” she reasons.

Harry rolls his eyes as he chews, pushing himself to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s go get you a proper breakfast.”

She perks up at this, following behind her uncle. Harry’s bones crack as he stretches his limbs. He crosses the slightly damp grass and opens the back sliding door to Gemma and Michal’s house, trying not to let any cats out. Hattie stays in the garden, staring at some worms on the stone pathway.

Harry begins making scrambled eggs and conjuring up any fruit he can find. As the eggs cook slowly, his mind begins to wander. It’s been a little over 2 1/2 months since he returned to England and his mind has had very few thoughts that didn’t include Briar.

He misses her on his runs. He misses her on the train. He misses her in the morning. He misses her when he’s alone in a shop buying fuck-all to fill the void.

Grabbing his phone, he sends his daily “ . ” to Briar, just to check if he’s still blocked. As usual, the message sends in a green bubble.

Pushing the eggs around, he makes it just how Briar likes it; mostly cooked, but still runny. Drudging over to the fridge, he spots some cheese to sprinkle on top. With careful hands, he plates the eggs for the two of them to share.

By this point, Hattie is romping around the garden in her school uniform, getting dirt and muck on her shoes and dress. He stalks over to the door, opening it enough to shout out to her.

“Oi! You’re due at school any minute and you’re ruining your clothes! Get in here.”

Hattie’s head whips up at Harry’s tone. He’s never once yelled at her in her 6 years of existence. Usually, she can get away with anything from painting Harry’s nails to stealing his nice clothes for a fashion show. Harry sees her face drop and can sense the tears are about to start. She stands up, her wide eyes looking at him. She meets him at the door and wraps her arms around his legs.

“‘M sorry, uncle H. Didn’t mean to mess up my dress.”

“It’s okay, bug. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Why don’t you sit and start eating, and I’ll run upstairs to grab a new dress, yeah? Do you need new socks, too?”

She nods sadly, her bottom lip still in a pout. Harry lowers down to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, love. Be right back.”

~

It’s not right. The room is silent, apart from the strained puffs of air hitting her face. Soft praises and dirty comments aren’t being whispered in her ear, and the hairs on the back of her neck aren’t standing straight up. Sweat is building up on her lower back and the backs of her knees as his hips snap sloppily into her.

They’ve been in this spot for a while, Spencer and Briar. If she were with Harry, she’d have reached completion twice by now, and explored 3 different positions. He’s barely uttered a word to her, just periodically grunting and saying, “oh yeah.”

Shuddering at the thought of Harry, she finally musters up the courage to look up at Spencer. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip in a manner that would normally be sexy, but to her, it’s repulsive.

They’d been out at a bar with a group of his friends; Briar being the only girl to tag along. They were both drinking and listening intently as his friends told funny stories. He included her when he could, but for the most part, Briar sat quietly to people watch.

“Close, Bri,” he grunts again.

She cringes, again. Only the people she’s closest with call her Bri. Is he asking her if she’s close, or is he telling her he is?

“Mhm,” she squeaks out a lie. He can’t possibly think this is good, right?

“Oh my goddd,” he drags out as he finishes into the condom. His heavy pants continue as he rolls off of her, a little sweat from his chest transferring to hers.

She cringes as he maneuvers his way to lay along side her. When he doesn’t immediately get up to grab a washcloth, she slides herself off the bed, picking up her shorts and throwing her long t-shirt on. She slowly shuffles to the bathroom, willing herself not to cry.

Spencer is nice; he’s respectful, but a little boring. When she looks at him, her heart doesn’t hammer in her chest.

Staring at herself in the mirror, her heart sinks to the floor. Her mascara is smudged, bags more prominent than before.

Briar used to feel enlightened and empowered after sex, a sense of weightlessness hitting her senses. But right now, a pit is formed in her stomach and she can’t wait for him to leave.

Entering the room, she sees Spencer sitting along the edge of the bed in his boxers. He smiles at her before pulling his sweatpants up.

“I have to be at the shop early tomorrow. I’ll text you?”

She inhales sharply, slightly relieved.

“Okay, yeah,” she smiles back as he leans in to peck her on the lips.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Gus lifts his head as the unfamiliar man makes his way past him before exiting through the front door.

She joins him at his spot on his bed, nuzzling her face into his wide and fluffy neck. She’s a little salty because Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Gus.

“Gus, what did I get us into?”

~

After 10 weeks in England, the longest period of time he’s spent there since he was 16 years old, Harry is heading back to the U.S.

There were lots of tears from Hattie, sympathetic looks from his sister, and sad waves from his mum.

He’s in his groove as a father to Oliver, balancing work and making time for FaceTime dates and even popping back over to France for a weekend. Camille is bringing Oliver to America in a few days.

His flight was seamless. He opted for business class so he could lay down and sleep. By the time the flight attendant shook him awake, they were just minutes from landing in New York City.

Looking to the escalators, the same ones Briar left him at to go to France over 3 months ago, his heart sinks. Getting broken up with 11 days into a trip is fucking with his head.

Harry’s driver, Paul, is waiting for him, the trunk of the SUV open for his luggage. He’d added an extra bag to carry new clothes and even a new trinket for his collection. Paul gently pats Harry on his back when he approaches.

Sliding into the back seat, Harry doesn’t bother buckling himself in, and lays his long legs over the seats. His eyes are about to close when he gets a text from Niall.

Welcome home, mate. I’ll stop over tomorrow for the meeting?

It’s not that he’s not excited to see Niall, he just can’t stomach acting happy and ignoring the elephant in the room. He wonders if he’s been to Wynnewood recently. He answers Niall with a quick ‘ya’ and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Town is quiet, just a few joggers and dog walkers milling about. It’s early, so the shops are only just opening their doors.

“Hey, Paul, can we stop for a minute? I want to grab a coffee.”

“Sure thing,” Paul says, slowly pulling the car to a stop.

With a cracking of his bones, Harry slides out of the car to stand in the street. He ducks inside the shop to find one guy behind the counter. He’s tall, flowy brown hair with a few tattoos on his arms and hand. He reminds Harry of a younger version of himself.

“Morning, man. Let me know what I can get started for you,” the barista smiles.

“Thanks. I’ll take two large iced cold brews. Black. And a croissant.”

“No problem. I just gotta fire up the oven, so it’ll be a minute," the guy says as Harry taps his credit card.

“Take your time,” Harry waves him off as he tucks himself into a corner booth, pulling out his phone to look at his emails.

A few more people filter into the coffee shop, so the level of chatter increases. Another worker brings over his coffees, and the original worker is pulling the croissant out of the oven.

The bell over the door jingles, signaling someone is entering.

“Hey, Bri!” the barista shouts as he’s pulling two espresso shots.

Harry’s blood runs cold as he wills himself to lift his head. His chest tightens when he’s met with his worst fear.

She’s as breathtakingly gorgeous as the day he left her at the bottom of the airport escalator. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, but bright and lively as ever. Her skin is perfectly tanned, and her hair pulled into a neat braid that extends down her back. She’s a bit flushed, assuming she is in the middle of a run.

The barista has completely abandoned Harry’s croissant in order to lean over the counter and talk to her. He passes her her favorite drink; a green iced tea, lightly sweetened with lemon.

In his observation of this interaction, Harry forgets to breathe, so he lightly chokes on his own saliva. He’s hidden from their view, so he’s not worried about being caught.

Are they friends? Are they more? Was she in essentially no pain since she ended it?

Peering around, he can’t find an emergency exit. Paul will start to question why he’s been in there so long. The other worker finally brings his croissant to Harry, but there’s no way he can physically stomach it.

More people are entering the coffee shop, so Briar waves shyly to the barista and makes her way out of the shop.

He counts to 30 before pushing himself to his feet. The lock in his jaw is tight and his shoulders are so tense he’s scared he’ll snap a tendon.

He leaves the croissant, grabbing the drinks and stalking out of the shop. He’s moving haphazardly around the small cafe style tables.

“Have a good day, man!” the barista shouts, to which Harry ignores and slams the door with the strength of Thanos, he’s sure the whole building shook.

Paul is stood outside the car, leaning on the hood, his eyes a little wide, “Was that…”

“Yes,” Harry snaps, handing Paul the cup.

He rips the door open returning to his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can’t help but obsess over one detail:

She didn’t fucking pay for her drink.

~

For the remainder of her run, Briar felt unsettled, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She never feels this paranoid unless she takes too much of her edible gummies. Even then, she always had Harry with her to make her feel safe.

Things with Spencer are stagnant; they’ve hooked up a few times, and he’s invited her to meet his friends. They have a good time when they’re together, but she isn’t feeling the spark. Since shutting off contact from Harry, she’s grasping for male attention; something she’s worked on since starting therapy.

There’s a networking event at Wynnewood later today, so Briar is anxious to know if Niall will be there. They’ve effectively avoided one another, treading the subject of she and Harry’s relationship lightly.

Her pace picks up when she hits the public garden, stomach twisting in pain when she passes the bench in the little alcove where she and Harry had their first official date. Tears begin to prick in her eyes, making her squeeze them shut to try and stop it from getting worse.

Her relationship grief comes in waves; waves of missing him and fits of anger. Anger at herself, really. Deep down, Briar recognizes she fucked up. She won’t admit it, though. The amount of times she’s wanted to pick up her phone, unblock him and grovel at his feet should have her on some sort of government watchlist. She reaches her apartment complex in record time.

While the shower runs, she foam rolls her legs and starts to lay out her skin care on the counter. Her phone is blasting her calming playlist, and her favorite bergamot candle from Target is lit. She’s not sure what comes over her, but she delicately enters her passcode and scrolls to Harry’s contact.

Her stomach churns and her finger hovers over the unblock button. She’s a split second from unblocking him when she hears Gus bark abruptly in the other room. Slamming her phone back down, she strips her clothes and jumps into the cold shower. That should clear her head a little.

Getting ready and driving to Wynnewood went by in a blur. Her knuckles are white from gripping her steering wheel tightly. She’s certain she’ll see Niall today. He’s the executive sponsor of the networking and charity event on the back course and luncheon in the main dining room. She just hopes his best mate isn’t there to support. She’ll donate an extra buck to make up for that damning thought.

Briar spots her Uncle Patrick in his office squinting at the computer screen as he normally does. She smiles to herself before gently opening the door. Patrick looks up, glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Hey, Bear,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she sighs, taking her usual spot on the sofa.

“I sent over your itinerary for California. We’ll all be on the same flight, but you’ll be on your own for most of the trip. The boys and I will be playing at Pebble Beach and a few other courses. But, I’m sure you’ll keep busy with your mom.”

Briar inhales through her nose at the mention of her mother. This will be her first time visiting her in her new life in California. Anxiety bubbles in her chest, causing her to feel her pulse at her neck.

“We want you to come over for dinner when you drop Gus off and stay the night so I can take us all to the airport Sunday morning.”

Her jaw locks at that. This is a mandated trip, planned by her uncle so she can’t put it off. She’s the last of her siblings to visit. Seeing her mother start over with a new family seems too much to bear. Her heart hurts thinking about it.

“Okay. Are you sure Aunt Mer is okay watching him? I can have Caroline stay at my apartment.”

“She’s fine. She’ll want a buddy for the week, anyway.”

Briar hums, playing with the hem of her shirt as she musters up the courage to go out on the course. But before she does, she scrolls to Harry’s contact again and finally bites the bullet to unblock him.

~

Harry finally makes it back to his house. The sun is rising, casting an orange hue over the windows. He sees his annoying neighbor Maureen watering her plants, so he’s sure if she sees him she’ll fill him in on 12 weeks of nonsense he missed.

The lawn is well kept and the windows are clean. Madison did a good job of making sure his house is in order. His heart twinges when he enters the new code on his lock, imagining Briar on this same step, cursing him out and steam blowing out of her ears. He misses the way her nose would scrunch up any time she was cross with him.

Slowly, the door opens and the deafening silence hits him like a bus. No sign of life anywhere. He isn’t tripping over her shoes, and he doesn’t smell the light traces of coconut and citrus from her perfume anymore.

Paul follows behind him, placing his bags down by the entryway. Harry says nothing, but nods at him appreciatively.

“I’ll be back to pick you up for the airport on Sunday, Harry.”

“Thanks, Paul. Have a good day.”

Dreading the walk upstairs, Harry continues on with his carry-on so he can shower and try to sleep off as much jet lag as he can. He has a feeling he’ll have a lot of early mornings this week to get back on track.

He stomps up the stairs, preparing himself to see his bedroom with no traces of Briar left. The door squeaks when he opens it, and a gust of wind escapes his lungs. It feels wrong; almost too sterile. Briar brings a certain level of peace and comfort everywhere she goes, and now his house feels empty and void of color and fun.

Hell, he even wishes his sheets were twisted from Gus rolling around on the bed even though Harry hates it. The three of them just fit. It was easy.

Harry pads into the bathroom, turning the water in his shower on the hottest setting, ignoring the lonely blue toothbrush sitting on the counter, clearly missing its pink companion.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, not expecting to be hit with the grief from something as simple as that.

Just before he strips, he opens his text conversation with Briar to send his daily “ . ” to see if he’s still blocked. This time, the message is blue.

Harry’s heart stops for a split second. A rush of adrenaline shoots up his spine, but he can’t help the smile that’s formed on his face.

~

Briar finally emerged from Patrick’s office, so she quickly scurries to the garage to start loading up her cart. The bar backs already got a head start on it, so really she is only putting out the fun straws and straightening up.

She spots Joaquin, the stuffed bird Harry got her. She’ll spare him — for now. She thanks the boys for their help before setting off to the back course.

Wynnewood is packed with people, thanks to the networking and fundraising event hosted by Niall and the men’s league he plays in on Wednesday nights. She’s bound to see him, so she’s basking in the moments of no awkwardness.

Zipping past the practice green and driving range, she spots a lot of members who are never at the club at the same time; it’s all of her worlds colliding at once. No sign of Niall.

The shift is going relatively smoothly; Everyone is in great moods, and being even more generous. She’s already decided she’ll donate a portion of her tips to the fundraiser.

Rounding the 14th hole, she sighs as she sees Niall seemingly waiting for her. He’s leaning suavely on his golf club, tan chinos hugging his legs nicely. He smiles at her facial expression, knowing he has her in his trap.

Panicking, Briar slowly approaches him on the path. As Niall begins to speak, Briar punches the gas and plows over the grass, cutting around Niall. In shock, he whips around and begins to shout after her. She smiles to herself smugly as she whips to the 15th hole.

The grounds crew will have to forgive her for fucking up the grass.

Briar makes it through the afternoon without running into Niall again. But at 3pm, she’s in need of a break. She parks the cart and heads to the locker room. Staring down at her phone, her breath hitches when she sees a notification from Harry.

Just as she’s about to swipe to open the message, a pair of hands grabs her and she’s suddenly lifted into the air.

“Oh my God! What the f—”

Niall is laughing hysterically as he drags her into the empty steam room. He covers her mouth so she stops screaming. He places her down on the ground and she starts to smack him on the chest.

“Niall, what the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing a fucking girl like that!”

“I know, you’ll have to forgive me,” He laughs sitting down on the teak bench. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he reasons, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure about that?”

Briar stays put. Niall cocks his head at her, fully assuming if that were the truth, she’d have left by now.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “What?”

“What is going on? You’ve been AWOL, Harry won’t talk to me, and I’m just plain miserable. Why did he fuck off to England?”

Briar is quiet. She had no idea he hasn’t been in the states this entire time. She figured he was avoiding Wynnewood.

“He was in England?”

Niall hums, “There it is. There’s the confirmation.”

“Fucking — Fine, yes, Niall, we broke up. I broke it off.”

Niall sighs again standing up to face her, “I figured as much. It’s been like, two months, and he’s barely had a conversation that’s not about work with me. He worked remotely from his sister’s.”

Her heart hurts knowing Harry fled to England; reminiscent of when Camille ended the engagement. She can’t help but feel like a villain.

“Briar, you’re 24. I think anyone with a good head on their shoulders would have apprehensions if their significant other has a kid. He just needed time.”

Tears prick in her eyes as she hears the one thought she’s been beating herself up over for weeks.

“I know,” she admits quietly.

“There’s plenty of time to fix it, if that’s what you want.”

Niall pulls her to his chest, the most physical touch she’s received in weeks. He leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sweating out of my arsehole right now.”

She guffaws and shoves him, turning on her heels to leave the steam room. She pulls her phone back out to deal with the text from Harry. She mentally prepares to read a long text trying to get her back. Instead, she’s met with a single “ . ”

What the fuck?

~

Friday night comes quicker than Briar likes. She begrudgingly loads her luggage and Gus’s supplies into the Jeep and sets off for her Aunt and Uncle’s house. Her brothers are already there, based on the memes in the “BarlHOES” family group chat.

Her uncle is quick to help her unload and manage Gus, and Cormac grabs her small suitcase and backpack. She gives her youngest brother a big hug. They silently embrace until Cormac pulls away.

She follows the two of them inside and is greeted by her aunt.

“Hi, sweets! I’ve missed you, honey.”

Briar hugs her aunt and gives her her best fake smile. Meredith looks at her knowingly.

Dinner goes by in a blur; Briar only participating if directly spoken to. The boys head to bed early to prepare for their rude wake up call at 3:30 AM. Patrick bids the girls a good night after he takes out the trash.

Briar slowly backs out of the kitchen, hoping her aunt doesn’t notice. Meredith clears her throat and slams two wine glasses down on the kitchen island. She silently reaches down into the wine fridge and pulls out a Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Sit,” Meredith orders.

Briar exhales and gives in. She pulls out the stool and rests her legs on the spare one between them while Meredith pours.

“How long?” Meredith pries.

“How long, what?” Briar plays dumb.

“The break up. The break. Whatever you’re calling it,” She pokes. “The reason you’ve been M.I.A.”

“10 weeks, maybe? I ended it,” Briar replies, stone faced. “I’m hooking up with someone from my program now.”

Meredith sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “What spooked you?"

“Nothing. I just wanted Harry to be able to adjust to being a dad without me in the way. I had the parent who didn’t choose her kids, and it sucked.”

“I think those were two completely different situations, Bri. Your mom had issues and needed to focus on getting better. Harry can easily find a balance with his circumstances.”

Briar rubs her neck, “I’m only 24, I can’t be someone’s step-mom,” Briar replies out of exasperation.

Meredith glares at her and clears her throat, “Um, I was only 27 when I took in FIVE little monsters. Cormac was barely even eating solid foods!”

Briar laughs, and takes a sip. “You’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

“It was the sexiest thing watching Patrick care for all of you. It showed commitment and stability,” Meredith recalls fondly. “And it takes a strong partner to keep it all together. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Briar inhales deeply, resting her head on her forearms, “I know what we had was good. Amazing, even. I fucked it all up. I told him not to contact me. But obviously I wanted him to. He respects me so fucking much, he listened!”

Meredith laughs, “Briar, he’s 40 years old. He’s not gonna play your game. So, now, you need to figure out what you’re going to do about it. I suggest you do some reflecting and journaling when you’re in California. And smoke a joint. It’ll give you all the clarity you need.”

Briar hums, shaking her head.

“I think you already know what you want. You just have to go get it.”

~

Harry’s wake up call on Sunday ripped him from a deep sleep; the best night’s sleep he’s had since getting back to the states. He’s usually up by 4:45 AM pacing the kitchen and reorganizing things for the hell of it.

But today, he’s sluggish, and doesn’t even want to move from his bed. Rising to a seated position on the edge, he cracks his neck, followed by several cracks down his vertebra.

He checks his phone to find a text from Camille from 30 minutes ago. She, Oliver, Theo and Amelie are 2 hours from landing. Harry and Oliver are going on a solo trip, so Camille and her family are staying in New York for the next 2 weeks while they bond. Harry has a few stops in mind, and he can’t wait to spend this time alone with him.

Paul texts Harry that he’s downstairs. He unlocks the door from his phone, and sends him a text to let him know where his luggage is. For good measure, Harry checks his messages between himself and Briar. The message is still blue, but no indication that she read it.

He slips down the stairs after getting ready to head to the airport to meet them. Harry and Oliver’s flight is in a few hours, giving them plenty of time to go through customs and get him situated.

The ride is silent; Harry slipping in and out of a light sleep. Paul isn’t talkative in the morning, either. For some odd reason, there’s a traffic jam at the terminal. Harry can’t quite place what’s going on, but spots a family that looks like they’re arguing and some of their bags rolled into the road. Harry shrugs and pulls hood further over his eyes to block out the bright lights of the terminal.

Camille’s plane hasn’t landed yet, so Harry opts to lay in the car until it’s closer to when they’ll hit customs. With time to kill, he slips back into a peaceful sleep.

~

“Get the fuck out of my face!” Jasper screams at Welles before shoving him out of the way.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything!” Welles screams back.

Before they know it, suitcases are toppling over into the street, and Uncle Patrick jumps out of the driver’s seat to intervene. He shoves Jasper, who’s significantly taller than the rest of the boys, and shoots Welles a glare.

“Knock it off! Callum, Cormac. Pick the suitcases up. Now!”

Cars are honking and swerving to avoid the family’s altercation. All of this is happening at the grand old time of 6:15 AM. The younger boys roll their eyes before listening to their uncle.

Briar is disassociating in the passenger’s seat, not even lifting her head to assess the situation. She woke up with extreme anxiety, so she’s just praying her heart doesn’t jump out of her chest.

“Fucking ridiculous. 30 years old, for Christ’s sake,” Patrick mutters about Welles.

If there’s one thing about the Barlowe boys, they settle everything physically. They’ll even team up on Briar every once in a while, throwing her in a headlock or slamming her down on the sofa.

She finally snaps from her daze and maneuvers to grab her belongings. For all she cares, she’ll head in alone and pretend she doesn’t know them. Once she’s through security and has her Starbucks, she’ll be golden.

They descend toward the escalator, until Briar hears a gasp. She whips her head around to her younger brother, Cormac, looking white as a ghost.

She places her hands on his shoulders, her sisterly instincts kicking in, “Mac? What’s wrong, bubby? Are you gonna be sick?”

He speaks so softly she has to lean in to hear him.

“Bri, I forgot my license. Are they gonna let me on the plane?”

She tries to mask the pain on her face, but fails. She glances over at her stressed uncle, whose blood pressure is probably only just lowering. Cormac turned 18 3 days ago, so she knows their chances of flying without his license is slim to none

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Uncle Patrick,” she pats his head lightly.

They are 25 feet from the security line, so Briar speaks up.

“Uncle Pat, don’t make a scene, please,” she reasons. “Mac doesn’t have his I.D.”

Patrick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and regulate his reaction. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone to dial American Airlines. Briar watches as he places his phone between his shoulder and ear, and aggressively waves the family to follow him back downstairs.

Needless to say, none of the Barlowes got on that plane.

~

It was just like the movies when Harry reunited with Oliver. He stood at the bottom of the escalators and waited for his boy to spot him from the top. He immediately bounces on his heels but refrains from running down the escalator when Camille shoots him a look. Amelie is strapped to Camille’s chest while Theo manages the bags.

“Papa!” Oliver shouts as soon as he’s within earshot of Harry.

“Mate! Welcome to America!”

Camille smiles as she makes the final steps off the escalator. She looks down at her excited boy fondly and gives Harry a side hug as to not disturb the baby.

“Customs line long?” Harry asks, breaking up the mild awkward silence. Theo finally joined them, shaking Harry’s hand and pulling him in for a bro hug.

“Not bad today. Packed far too much, though,” Theo grumbles, looking directly at Camille.

“2 1/2 weeks in New York means 2 months worth of clothes,” she smirks.

While Harry takes Oliver to California solo, Theo and Camille are staying in New York. Camille worked out several business deals, so she’ll have in-person meetings the entire time. When Harry and Oliver return, they’ll fly home to Paris together. After that, Harry’s not sure when he’ll see him next.

Camille felt more comfortable being in on the same continent during their first solo trip. Harry is stoked — he planned the whole trip to Montecito, being sure to hit all his old favorite spots and spend plenty of time in the sun. Even though he and Camille aren’t together, he thinks it’s important to tell Oliver about their story. He probably won’t understand, but he’s excited nonetheless.

Oliver stifles a yawn, so Harry takes that as their queue to start their own trip. They have about an hour until their flight. He needs coffee and a good bagel.

Camille leans down to give Oliver a huge hug, whispering in his ear to behave, be kind and have fun. The boy smiles brightly, wiggling his first loose tooth at her.

“That tooth better be gone when I see you next, mister!” She smiles, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I think we can arrange that. Does the tooth fairy travel?” Harry laughs.

Harry bids the couple farewell, and drags he and Oliver’s bags behind him. He spots a Dunkin’ Donuts, so he decides to treat them to some coffee — hot chocolate for the little guy — and munchkins.

Oliver’s eyes light up at the taste of his first American donut. Harry hopes he isn’t going to regret this later, unsure of how Oliver reacts to loads of sugar. It’s the American way, he supposes.

To pass the time, Oliver colors and the two of them play tic tac toe. He’s grateful he wasn’t raised as an iPad child. They talk about what movies they’re going to watch, fully knowing the boy will probably sleep for most of the flight. He’s a trooper after almost 24 hours of travel.

Harry shows Oliver pictures of their bungalow for the next 2 weeks; a small cottage steps from the beach and a short walk from the Beachwood Cafe, he and Camille’s old stomping grounds.

About 20 minutes before the flight, Harry ushers them over to their gate. As he’s sitting down, he partially tunes out the chatter around him, until he hears an announcement from the desk associate, her accent thick.

“Bare-low party of six, please check in at the desk.”

Harry looks around, in case the love of his life is right under his nose. He can’t be that lucky.

Then again, 10 minutes later.

“Bare-low, party of six, last call to check-in. Standby passengers, please come to the desk.”

Getting Oliver settled, they wait for their boarding call. They board third, a new perk of having a kid.

He places their bags in the overhead bin, sets his boy up with snacks, juice and headphones for a movie, but he can already see his little eyelids fluttering. Painstakingly slow, the plane boards. Harry paid close attention to the passengers coming on, and he knew his luck had run out.

Though, the seat next to him is suspiciously empty as the pilot announces the closing doors.

~

Thanks to Aunt Meredith leaving pilates to drive an hour to the airport during rush hour, Mac has his license and they’re booked for a later flight. The family swiftly runs through security and heads to their gate. The boys have calmed down, opting to lay in an empty row of chairs. Two are sleeping and two are scrolling their phones.

Patrick is scratching Briar’s head as she leans against him, something they’ve always done since she was little and pretended to be a dog everywhere they went.

Their boarding group is called, so they embark on their journey, leaving Briar to suck it up. She’s decided she’s going to make this trip about her, leaving all distractions behind. Her mother, Harry, Spencer, and school.

Settling into her seat, she turns on the movie she queued up and gets comfortable. She watches about 25 minutes of the movie before dozing off. She hopes Patrick will wake her to get a biscoff biscuit and a ginger ale, but she doesn’t have high expectations.

~

Patrick nudges Briar awake when there’s 40 minutes left in their flight. She climbs over a sleeping Cormac to use the bathroom and stretch her legs. She spots her other brothers a few rows back, smiling at the way they’re piled on one another. It reminds her of them all as kids, dog piling on a fort of pillows in the basement.

She stretches her arms above her head as she pees, swearing plane bathrooms have gotten smaller. She takes a selfie in the plane bathroom before heading back to her seat. Cormac is still passed out, so she clambers over him to the window seat.

Before she knows it, the plane is descending into Los Angeles. A pit forms in her stomach knowing she is spending the next 2 weeks with her mom while her brothers and uncle golf and surf most of the time.

Patrick rented two cars; so she opts to ride with Welles. It’s not often the two of them are alone. He was 12 when their dad died, so he had a more realistic grasp on what was happening to their family. He was Cormac’s age when their mother sought treatment. His bright, happy demeanor dissipated quickly. It makes Briar’s heart hurt sometimes. Her siblings dealt with these issues differently, and they’ve never had a true heart to heart about it.

They drive for a few miles, Welles fiddling with the Bluetooth and playing his music. They’re in the car for the next few hours, so Briar finally got the courage to speak up.

She clears her throat, “what moment did you realize Mom needed help?”

Welles’ eyebrows scrunch, and he looks over at his sister before looking back at the road.

“Uhm,” he starts, not sure where to begin. “I remember Mom picking me up from the first day of middle school. She was waiting for me in the pick up line, and she was slurring her words. I obviously didn’t know what being high was, so I was scared something was wrong with her health.”

She closes her eyes, remembering that day vividly. Uncle Patrick came storming into the house, yelling at their mother. Welles called him, too scared to get in the car with her.

“I remember that,” Briar replies quietly. “Mine was when she kept missing important things; school events and doctors appointments. It got to the point she didn’t know what day it was.”

“Yeah,” Welles responds solemnly. “Well, that’s in the past now. She’s better. Even though I don’t agree with some of the choices she’s made recently, we have to try to support her.”

“I know,” she starts to sniffle. “It was just fucked up to put that kind of pressure on us.”

Welles reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, “I know, Bear.”

~

Harry and Oliver’s trip started off smoothly. He collected their bags and got them on the shuttle to the rental car office. Oliver could still barely keep his eyes open, so Harry held him while they stood in line. When it was finally their turn, Harry was ecstatic (first to relieve his back and arms from carrying 55 pounds, and second, because he rented them a convertible coupe).

It’s similar to the car he used to drive around Montecito as golden hour hit the coastline. He and Camille would drive on the Pacific Coast Highway and head to the beach to smoke a joint and watch the stars. He smiles to himself fondly.

He sets Oliver up with a booster seat in the back, and rolls the top down. If he weren’t so tired, he’s sure he’d be smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, je suis fatigué,” Oliver mumbles.

Harry smiles to himself. Even though Oliver can speak English well, his native tongue slips out when he’s exhausted.

“I know, mate. As soon as we’re at the house we can sleep some more.”

“D’accord, Papa.”

They drive for a while, and Harry slows down to stare out at the ocean as he drives through familiar towns. He’s excited to have some decent Mexican food again.

They pull up to the bungalow a little before noon. He lifts Oliver from his booster, laying his head on his shoulder. He unlocks the door based on the AirBnB host’s instructions, and gently lays him down on the sofa in the main room. His face scrunches in protest, and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s looking in the mirror. Even their mannerisms are identical.

Jogging back out to the car, Harry unloads and gets everything inside before locking up. He’s excited to head out back and enjoy the view. He snaps a few photos of the water, and sends his daily “ . ” text to Briar.

The bubble is blue again.

~

Briar and Welles talked the whole drive to Montecito. They laughed as they covered what seemed like years they’ve missed out on being close. She hopes this is a turning point for them.

Her phone chimes, and her heart stops as she looks down at the notification. Another fucking “ . ” from Harry! What does that even mean?

“What’s wrong?” Welles pipes up. She must’ve made a sound or had a sour face.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure if I told you, but Harry and I broke up.”

“Yeah, Jasper told me. Sorry to hear.”

“Thanks. So, I blocked him like, 2 months ago, and I just unblocked him the other day. I’ve been getting messages that only have a period in them, and I have no idea what that means.”

“It means he’s been testing if he’s still blocked. He’s probably been sending those the entire time.”

Briar ponders this. She kind of thinks it’s funny. And a little sad.

She laughs, “Do you know that from experience?”

“Maybe. Before Imani and I were good together, we were not so good together,” he says, hysterically laughing.

The GPS indicates they’re at their destination. It’s a nice house that overlooks the ocean, and appears to be well kept.

Patrick and the other boys are already inside, so Welles and Briar approach the front door to knock. They’re greeted by a small girl, no older than 8 years old, in a purple princess gown.

“Hi,” Briar smiles.

The girl ignores her and retreats back inside. She and Welles shrug, stepping into the threshold of the house. They follow the loud voices into the main living room. Along the way, she spots photos on the walls of her mother, her new husband, and his kids. Her heart pangs when she realizes there isn’t a trace of her or her brothers.

“Bear! Wellie!” Catherine Barlowe screeches. “All my babies under one roof!”

She hugs both of them and plants strong kisses on their cheeks.

“Did you meet Penelope?”

“Uh, I think so,” Welles responds.

“You remember Dean, right? And these are his two other girls, Daphne and Delaney,” she points to two identical girls. They’re probably 10 years old. Briar remembers seeing photos of them at the wedding.

Dean leans in to give her a hug and shake Welles’ hand.

They all exchange pleasantries until Briar excuses herself outside. Their back deck is gorgeous, and overlooks a picturesque part of the ocean. She snaps a few photos, and fights the urge to send them to Harry.

~

By the end of day 9, Harry is exhausted. He wasn’t aware of the mental toughness required to occupy a child, feed said child, and and also take care of himself. His heart grows three sizes everytime Oliver smiles during a new activity, making it all worth it.

They’ve already explored the beaches, went shopping, went to the aquarium, explored Big Sur, and even spent a day on the golf course. Harry just had to sneak one day of golf in to keep sane. Oliver reacted well and had fun chasing the golf cart, despite the nasty looks from members.

They start off most of their days by walking to Beachwood for coffee and croissants, and Harry tells Oliver their plans for the day. It’s been nice to reminisce his life with Camille. Almost like exposure therapy.

They check in with Camille frequently, and Harry’s even gone out of his way to vlog their entire trip. Maybe he’ll put together a video at the end. Briar used to love vlogging. She’d take 1 second clips and arrange them with his favorite songs. Some videos were for their eyes only.

Camille is busy with work, but she’s thinking of leasing a New York apartment to make traveling with Oliver easier. Harry’s not sure how to feel about it.

Harry goes to sleep that night with a plan to take Oliver kayaking. They’ll swing by Beachwood before heading off.

~

Briar’s brothers and uncle have golfed every single day, leaving her to stay with her mother and her new family. It’s interesting seeing her mother in this role; almost like she’s on a TV show. This trip should be healing for Briar, but she feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

The moment she woke up, Briar informed her mother that she’d like to spend the day alone. They’d gone shopping one on one and went to lunch, but Briar felt a major disconnect. Her mother took some offense, but understood she’s there for a few more days.

Slipping on her running sneakers and pink trucker hat, Briar set off up the hills of Montecito. She’s explored every coffee shop in the neighborhood and has one left that her mother raves about; the Beachwood Cafe. Her running pace has improved tremendously, so she makes it to the doors of the cafe just after 8. It’s jam packed, but she realizes it’s a Saturday. On vacation, she loses track of the days.

After ordering her iced green tea and a croissant, she spots an open table outside. The sun is shining, but the damning humidity from the east coast is nowhere to be found. She could live in weather like this forever.

Her podcast is playing and she just started the mini crossword when she feels the vibrations of the extra seat at her table being drug away from the table. Startled, Briar looks up to find a young boy, loose chocolate brown curls on his head, freckles, and bright green eyes staring at her. Still a bit stunned, Briar doesn’t react when the boy sits at her table. He has a book of marine animals with him, equipped with a sticker set.

Her heart is beating erratically. It can’t be, can it?

The boy is paying her no mind as she wordlessly starts to pack up her things. She’s cursing herself for bringing so much shit with her on a run. He munches on his croissant with strawberry jam and watches her fumble around.

Finally, she gathers her things and heads to the door, her head down in case this is really happening. She takes 5 stunted steps before running into a rock-solid object. She stares down at the brightly colored Hoka sneakers belonging to the man she’s utterly in love with, but is choosing to torture herself and stay away from.

“Birdie?”

___________________________________________

REUNITED N IT FEELS SO GOOOOOOD :D

Wrapping up the story in part 10 <3 I already know how I want it to go, so hopefully I can get it up soon.

[twopoppies]

How is that possible that syco/simon allowed Louis to release the ‘princess park’ lyric in habit?

Louis has done a lot of things that were ridiculously obvious. But notice how many antis insist that that lyric is actually about all the boys? They all love loved at Princess Park. Harry and Louis shared an apartment while the other three each had their own.

But, of course, if you don’t want to see Habit as the really obvious love song that it is, you’ll look at it like it’s a song about the band.

And then “we’ve come so far from Princess Park” is about the band. And “I’ll always need you in front of me” is about the band. And “you’re the shiver that I can’t shake” is about the band.

And while we’re at it, Sweet Creature is about Gemma. 🤡🤡🤡

People will believe anything that fits their narrative. And Simon/Sony will let things slide that can be explained away because this way they don’t alienate anyone and the internal fandom fighting continues.