#but of course things have changed and I don’t expect either Harry or Louis to be the exact same people they were

[blackandwhlteaesthetlc]

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[daisyblog]

To Be So Lonely

Our Story Masterlist Summary: How To Be So Lonely was made.

Warning: alcohol usage, talk about relationship, swearing

Harry didn’t understand how quickly things could change. He’s gone from feeling hopeful that things between him and YN were heading in the right direction, that there was a chance that they could work things out. But after their strained conversation last week over coffee at Beachwood, he started to lose hope. 

Noticing how down Harry had been and how lost he seemed, especially after he had written the song ‘Falling’ a few days ago at the studio, Sarah and Mitch had invited him over for some dinner with them. 

Sarah was in the kitchen prepping and cooking their dinner, and Mitch and Harry were lounging in the living room. 

“Still haven’t heard anything from YN?”. Mitch asked, knowing how much this was affecting his best mate.

Harry shook his head, as he started to play with the loose cotton string on his dark jeans. “I did speak to Louis the other day after we met up…and he said she’s having a lot of panic attacks at the moment.” Harry felt so useless, knowing he couldn’t help her any more. “They started after her Mum passed.” 

“It’s hard man.” Mitch sympathised, knowing it can’t be easy for YN either. Sarah had now joined them, sitting next to Mitch and naturally his hand found his way to her thigh. Harry feeling a tad a jealousy that he no longer had that type of relationship.

“I just don’t know why she thinks I’m interested in some other girl that Glenne was talking to the other day…I hate the media…they twist everything.” Harry frustratedly ranted, knowing how unfair it was that something so innocent had been made into him now getting close to another woman. 

“It would be boring if they didn’t twist it.” Sarah added to their conversation. “Plus I don’t think the headline ‘Harry’s wandering hands’ helped you there.”.

Harry scoffed “Wandering…I didn’t even speak to the girl…I was too busy talking Jeff’s ear off about YN.”.

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing filled the room, and as he took it from his pocket he was surprised to see Louis name. “It’s Louis.”.

He pressed the green button, accepting the call quickly. “Hey Lou…everything okay mate?”.

“Sorry to bother you lad…it’s YN-“. Louis voice sounded defeated, almost like he’d ran out of options and Harry was his last hope. 

“Is she okay?” Harry panicked, thinking something bad had happened.

“Yeh she’s fine…well she’s fookin’ wasted..and right now she’s lying on me floor just repeating your name.” Louis began to explain but soon YN’s voice could be heard faintly in the background.

“Harry…is that Harry?”. YN’s voice was slightly slurred.

“Do you want me to come over?” Harry asked, assuming that’s the reason Louis reached out to him. 

“Do you mind H?” Louis hated to bother Harry, knowing that their relationship wasn’t great right now, but he was his last hope.

“Course not…I’ll be there in five.” Harry began to stand and gather his jacket ready to drive to Louis house. 

After ending the call with Louis, Harry explained the situation to Mitch and Sarah and apologised for leaving so suddenly without having dinner. But Mitch and Sarah understood and just want YN and Harry to work things out. 

Harry was feeling nervous as he drove towards Louis house. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know if YN really wanted him there or if it was a case of she was that intoxicated that she forgot that they weren’t even a couple anymore. 

Pulling up into Louis drive, Harry exited his car and jogged up the few steps as Louis opened the front door. “Come in man…I am really sorry to fookin’ bother you-“.

“Lou…it’s alright mate.” Harry interrupted him, not wanting him to think he minded coming over. He’s always want to be there when YN needed him. 

Louis walked Harry into his house, and showing him where YN was currently sprawled across his grey rug in the living room, attempting to sing ‘Somebody To Love’. 

“Can anybody find me somebody to love.” YN sung badly, and Harry could only assume that was down to the alcohol roaming her body right now. 

Usually Harry would laugh at YN in this mess because it would be entertaining, but it was clear to him that she had been drinking alone in the house and he felt guilty that it may have something to do with him. 

“Hey Kiddo…if you’re done murdering that song…do you think you can get up from the floor?”. Louis walked further into the room, Harry a few steps behind him. 

“Fook off…and leave me here to mope.”. YN slurs her words, as she childishly rolls on the rug beneath her. 

Harry remained silent, not wanting to aggravate the situation any further. “Well the reason your moping is standing right here so…please get your arse up from my fookin’ rug and talk to him.”. Louis wasn’t being nasty, just using his assertive voice. 

It was in that moment that YN noticed Harry standing next to her brother. “Hey bubs!” YN gave him a tipsy smile. 

“C’mon bab-“ Harry had almost let the pet name slip out after hearing YN openly call him ‘bubs. “C’mon, let’s get you up from the floor.” Harry held his hands out, hoping YN would comply. But Harry knew how stubborn she was. 

YN wore a cheeky smile, one that would appear whenever she was about to make a joke. “Did you just call me baby?”. 

“It slipped out.” Harry confessed, but still confused why YN was teasing him when she had referred to him as his nickname first. 

Just as quickly as YN teased, so her expression changed to a serious one, even her eyebrows frowned. “Don’t call me baby again!”. Harry was taken back, how someone’s mood could change so quickly. 

He looked to Louis for help, but he shrugged his shoulders. “This is what I’ve been dealing with since I came home…good luck lad…I’m off for a smoke.” Louis announced as he grabbed the packet of cigarettes and lighter from the side and closed the living room door behind him. 

Silence surrounded them for a short while, for a moment Harry wondered if YN had fallen asleep. But his question was answered when she stood up from her position, swaying slightly and Harry quickly stopped her from hitting the coffee table in front of her. “Hey! Friends don’t touch each other…remember you just want to be friends!” YN snapped. 

“YN…I never said I wanted us to be just friends”. Harry bit back, frustrated at all the assumptions she was creating recently. 

YN had now made herself comfortable on the grey L shaped sofa. Harry following and sat down on the opposite side, choosing to keep a safe distance. 

“Do you still love me?” YN asked quietly, in between her tipsy hiccups. 

Harry snapped his head up to look at her. How could she think any different? “I’ve never stopped loving you.”. 

“It felt like it when you were on tour.” YN admitted and Harry wonders if this was the alcohol talking. 

“I did act like a dickhead, I won’t deny that.” Harry couldn’t disagree, when he was on tour, he prioritised everything before his relationship.

“Hmm my words would be arrogant son of a bitch.” YN’s words stung, but Harry took it well.

“M’sorry!” Harry apologised. “I know it’s probably too late but I am.”.

When YN didn’t respond, Harry wondered if he should leave. Since he first arrived, she seemed to have sobered up a little, she was still hiccuping but she wasn’t slurring her words as much as she was when he first arrived. 

“I think I’m gonna leave.” Harry stood from his seat, about to walk towards the living room door. But he stopped in his tracks at YN’s words. 

“Please don’t leave me.” YN pleaded, Harry turned to look at her, tears were forming in her eyes. “I-I..don’t wanna b-be alone.”.

At the sign of weakness, Harry ran to her side. “Hey…it’s okay I’m here.”. Harry pulled her body closer to his, his arm wrapping around her and YN was quick to hold him tight. “You’re never alone.”.

“It’s so hard going home and being lonely.” Harry’s heart broke there and then. He hadn’t been back to their London home since they split. But he could only imagine how that must feel, walking into a house you once shared to find it dark and empty. 

“M’sorry.” Harry left a soft peck to YN’s head. He was reluctant to ask but needed to know. “Is that why you’ve been having panic attacks?”. YN didn’t speak, just nodded her head. Harry held her tighter and ran his fingers through her hair.

After a while, Louis gently opened the door to find the reason it was so quiet in the house. YN was half lying on Harry, her leg over his and her tucked under his neck. He was glad to see that YN was back with her safe place. 

---

It had been a few days since Harry was at Louis house. When Harry and YN woke the next morning, they were still snuggled up in each others arms but neither of them made an effort to move. 

They had made breakfast together, but bath didn’t bring up the antics of the previous night. Silently telling each other that they needed to move forward. Harry had left before Louis had woken that morning, purposely because he didn’t want to give him the wrong impression that something more had happened between him and YN. 

Harry had a studio session today with Mitch, Tyler and Kid. Mitch didn’t question Harry on what happened after he left their house that night. That’s one of the reasons Harry loved him so much, he was a good friend, he was a good listener but he never probed for information. 

As Harry entered the studio, Mitch was already playing something on a new instrument in his hand. “Mitch…what’s that?”. 

“It’s a Ukulele.” Mitch continued to strum on what Harry could see was a smaller version of a guitar. “I’ve got this melody that I just can’t see to stop playing.”.

“Show me.” Harry instructed as he took a seat on the stool, opposite his guitarist, folding his arms over his chest in concentration. 

The minute Mitch began to play, Harry loved it. It had a unique sound and he instantly knew he needed to use it for a song. Harry signalled Mitch to keep playing, a rush of creativity coming over him. 

Don't blame me for falling I was just a little boy Don't blame the drunk calling Wasn't ready for it all

Harry reflected on how young he and YN had fallen in love. They were young and innocent and had no idea what life was going to throw at them. The drunk calling referring back to the night a few days ago, it wasn’t Louis fault, he just didn’t what to do with his paralytic sister. 

You can't blame me, darling Not even a little bit I was away And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch Who can't admit when he's sorry

Thinking back to their conversation, Harry could resist using YN’s directness of calling him out on his shitty behaviour when he was on tour and confidently calling him an arrogant son of a bitch. 

Don't call me baby again You got your reasons I know that you're tryna be friends I know you mean it Don't call me baby again It's hard for me to go home Be so lonely

YN’s words about her feeling alone and lonely will always haunt him. No matter what, nobody should have to feel like that. 

I just hope you see me in a little better light Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind? 'Cause I miss the shape of your lips You'll win, it's just a trick And this is it, so I'm sorry

Harry has always been a jealous lover and looking at all the happy couples around him only proves that. But it was true, he missed her, he missed everything about her and this was his way of saying “I’m sorry.”

As Harry finished, he and Mitch a look. “We make a good team!”.

Tag List: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! I wish I had more time to read this month, especially because I haven't read any of the advent fics yet but let me steer you to this wonderful post by @allwaswell16. It contains links to all the advent fics. Here are the fics I did read - and loved this month:

I'll Be Home For Christmas | lovelarry10 | [63k] Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas. Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well...

And Now I Date Cate's Brother | sunflouwerhabit | [46k] “But what if you had a real relationship! What if you entered your Victorius era and wrote a banger about banging your best friend’s brother!” Louis blinked. Either his mind was working at half-speed or Niall was being especially stupid tonight. “I never banged my best friend’s brother.” “I know that and you know that. But we don’t always have to tell the truth when we write songs.” “You want me to write fanfiction about me and my high school crush?” Louis asked. The words were slow to form. “Like… actually?” “Why not?” Why not? Why not?!?! Because the idea was ridiculous, Louis wanted to say. Because he hadn’t seen Harry Styles in person in four years. Because Harry Styles was a stupid childhood crush- a popular, kind, stunning boy secretly adored by a quiet musician who felt every emotion so intensely he had to write them all down or they would suffocate him- and the two never shared much more beyond a game of cup pong and drunken conversations at a Halloween party a million years ago. Because… ~~~ A drunken writing session ends with a song detailing the fictitious summer romance between Louis and his former friend’s twin brother. It accidentally goes viral.

Bend the Rules | youreyesonlarry | [17k] Prompt 588: Lous hires a ‘ghost cooking’ service because his family is worried he’s not eating well and he wants to impress them by showing them what an amazing cook he’s become. The service includes sending a discreet cook to your house and have them get everything ready so that you only serve and take the credit. Problem is, his sisters (can be OCs if that’s more comfortable) get to his flat earlier than planned and the actual cook has to hide in the master bathroom for hours. Louis is mortified. The cook is amused and helps him to clean and well. Gives him a thorough service. Feel free to pick your fave as the cook.

Lucky (In Love) | Neondiamond | [3k] When Louis first volunteered to drop off his nephew Lucky at nursery to help out his nervous sister, he was not expecting the owner to be the most gorgeous man in all of London. He makes sure he’ll get to see him again.

silver dress feels like a cure | finelinegynandromorph | [10k] louis is a boudoir photographer and harry needs a little bit of a push to feel himself a little more. turns out they used to be rivals at a ballet company ten years ago. mutual thirsting ensues!

Hello, my name is Louis | tedtokat | [10k] Louis hurried to hang up the phone and take off his headset, throwing it away as if it was burning hot. He hugged himself by the shoulders and hid his face in his knees, sitting in his desk chair like a swimmer ready to dip into a pool, a pool of embarrassment. Not many people got past "Hello, my name is… " and even fewer engaged in a full conversation with him. And if they did, it usually went better than this. Prompt 148: Louis is a scam caller. Now this isn’t exactly the job of his dreams, but it pays well enough for him to continue doing it. Louis is a very anxious person, making it hard for him to talk, so he’s very shy when he inevitably scam calls Harry. Harry ignores the scamming, but after a certain number of calls, he’s had enough. Here ensues mean Harry at the beginning, sensitive Louis who doesn’t know what is going on half of the time, and if the author is up for it, autism-coded Louis too!

Two Night Stand | j_klmnop | [18] After an extremely regrettable one night stand, two strangers wake up to find themselves snowed in after sleeping through a blizzard that puts their entire city on ice. They're now trapped together in a tiny apartment, forced to get to know each other way more than any one night stand should.

Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | goldensweetmemory | [11k] Prompt: A/B/O - strangers snowed in for an extended period of time and the omega starts to get touch-deprivation xx The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry, Louis, or both Harry and Louis are single parents. This list includes both fics where one of the parents is not in the picture (at least for a period of time) and fics where the parents are both single even if they’re both present. If you enjoy this rec list, please like and reblog to spread the word. Happy reading!

1) All I Want For Christmas Is You (And Your Children) | Explicit | 11307 words

Harry finds himself at Tesco on December 24th for a quick grocery shopping with his daughter Leah.

He thought he’d come back home with a few things for dinner (and probably a few that Leah slipped through the cart without him noticing).

He absolutely did not think about the possibility of meeting a gorgeous single father of two children.

And inviting him to his Christmas Eve dinner at home.

2) For The Thrill Of Your Touch I Will Shamefully Lust | Explicit | 12873 words

“Harry, are you really making red velvet?” He breathed, excitement clear in his voice and written in his eyes. As if Harry making him something (after he asked about it) was something he had never expected to happen and Harry wondered for a second when he had given of the impression of not wanting to please Louis’ every wish.

“Of course I am, I had two tiny Tomlinson’s asking for it” he smiled, aware of the fact that Louis did not think of himself as short or anywhere near tiny. But in comparison to Harry, he was definitely a tiny one.

Louis huffed and moved a step away from him. They had been standing very close up until that moment, and Harry had not even noticed before the smaller was moving away.

“I am not tiny, Harold” he said, in a sharper voice, but Harry knew from the look on his face that Louis was far from mad about the comment.

3) What's Love Without Tragedy | Explicit | 17130 words

Louis is a widower with three kids. Harry is the babysitter. They fall in love.

4) Dear Santa | Explicit | 20518 words

"Dear Santa...I know you're very busy and you have lots of toys to make but I wondered if this year I could ask for something else. I changed my mind about the puppy and I'd like to ask if you can help me instead. "

Miss. Fields looks mildly bemused as Beau takes a breath.

"I used to have a really cool Doctor; possibly the coolest doctor ever and then he went away only he's back and he helped me feel better and I'd really, really like it if I could say hi to him again."

"Who was your doctor, Beau?" Her teacher asks.

"Dr. Styles," she replies with a sweet smile.

Miss. Fields glances over to Sam.

"He's just come back into town hasn’t he? I'm sure we can arrange for you to say hello..."

"My Daddy won't let me," she pouts, scratching a nail against her page a little.

She's decorated it with glitter in the colours of the rainbow.

"We can ask him if it’s alright," Miss. Fields suggests. “Perhaps he can come with us?”

"Oh, can we?" Beau beams, gasping.

Her teacher smiles and rests a gentle hand on her back.

"Think of something else you'd like to ask Santa for," she suggests.

5) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Explicit | 24610 words

A friends to lovers AU with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.

6) Yours To Lose | Explicit | 25742 words

Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

7) All The Lights are Full Of Colour | Explicit | 26727 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

So, fast-forwarding eight years from the day Harry met Louis, he is now a twenty-seven year old owner of one of the most up-and-coming eating establishments on the London restaurant scene, father of two wonderful boys and… separated from his husband. Now, that last part definitely was never a part of the original plan.

8) A Fallen Star That Shines No More | Explicit | 25926 words

Louis might have a problem.

Said problem lies entirely in the fact that he can't seem to avoid Harry Styles, The Ex-Boyfriend That Broke His Heart and World Famous Popstar Sensation. Everything is only made more complicated by the fact that he doesn't really want to avoid Harry either, even though they're supposed to mean nothing to each other.

Another tiny problem may also be that Harry has no idea that Louis has a daughter now.

Yeah, he's screwed.

9) Starlight's Crossing | Explicit | 30496 words

All it takes is one night for Harry and Louis' life to change forever. Fast-forward four years, and they embark on an adventure of a lifetime across the universe.

10) Last Blues For Bloody Knuckles | Explicit | 34329 words

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

A mob au.

11) Sedative Duty. | Explicit | 46588 words

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press,  Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

12) So Much We Didn’t Say | Mature | 53584 words

Harry’s near fatal accident exposed the cracks in his and Louis’ eleven year marriage. A serious error in judgement by Louis shattered it completely.

13) The Bachelor | Explicit | 53953 words

"Don't tell me, you're Lola," Louis pointed at the little girl and she crowded her father's leg shyly, sticking her thumb in her mouth.

Harry chuckled lightly and cupped the back of her head with a large palm, his calloused hands catching the fine strands of her hair.

"She's shy," Harry told him. "Plus you swore mighty loud...M'Harry by the way," he stuck his free hand forward, his diction belying his way of life- slow and casual.

The somewhat dainty-looking loud-mouth flicked a look to his hand, then back to his face. Harry waited patiently for him to take it.

"Louis," he finally shared, clasping Harry's hand with his smaller one and giving it a gentle squeeze, placing his other over the top of both of theirs. "Tomlinson," he added. "I'm your personal assistant," he added.

14) All I Want | Mature | 289311 words

When Harry and Louis got together it wasn’t under the best circumstances. Louis was taken by another. But go figure that the way they ended up together is the very same way it ended. And Harry left Louis. He left him with a lot more than he thought. A story about how people’s misconceptions almost destroyed a love that went beyond measure.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[kingstylesdaily]

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[1ddotdhq]

🖕Mon Sept 28 ‘20 👓

First things first: see ya Psycho! Music Week published an article confirming Syco’s “low-key” demise. Music Week tells us two interesting things - the first is that “artists from [Cowell’s] TV show will now be free to sign to any label, with Sony no longer enjoying first refusal”. The second interesting tidbit is that “all Syco Music employees and artists have now either been redeployed within Sony Music, or have left the company”. Happy days!

More like busy days - for Harry, at least! He was seen yesterday evening in LA, taking pictures with a fan. He was wearing a mask (sexy) and a mini hair clip (less sexy, but adorable nonetheless). We can take this as an indication that pre-production for Don’t Worry Darling is likely underway, and as he’s the lead male role (!!!!!!), he has RESPONSIBILITIES and so he had to be there before the day of the actual shoot. Your intern spent a few hours reading up on film set guidelines, so I’m going to tell you that at some point between the UK, Italy, the UK again, and LA, Harry got himself screened and tested negative for COVID, as is mandatory to do before entering a film set. These sets are closed, and any visitors must also undergo screenings, as far as I could tell. Anyways, hopefully that keeps him safe and busy for the next few months! 

His Grammy campaign is ALSO underway, as his team told Music Week that they’ve “got a few more things up [their sleeve] for the rest of the year, but [we’ll] have to wait and see”. Is it the Golden video? I bet it’s the Golden video. Some more information about Harry’s accessories also became available to the public today: his custom vampire wife blue HS bag was VERY custom-made, apparently, as he specifically requested that color blue for his initials (the letters are normally done in a ~golden~ thread, which makes it funner, imo). In case you’re curious - it IS the same color as his Light’s Up costume, the Vespa, the room that Falling was shot in, and on and on and on. He does seem to rather have a fascination with that color, doesn’t he? Almost like...he gets so lost inside it? Can you believe it??

Hahaha okay moving on: Zayn ALSO keeps on keepin’ on to make Z3 a more tangible reality: he registered two new songs today: “Different” and “Look At Me Now”. And even #better (last time, I promise haha) - “Better” was featured on Amazon Music’s “song of the day”! I have to hear the songs before I say anything about it, but I do sort of hope that things will be “Different” this time around - “Better” - and that he’s telling us “Look At Me Now”. To use twitter terminology, I’m manifesting good things for him.

Liam had a feature in Esquire Mexico, where they talked about his early aspirations as an Olympic runner changing into his decision to give up running to focus on music. I wish they had talked about this a bit more, because I can’t expect that was an easy decision, but also, he would have been around 14 when he made it. That’s a BIG responsibility for a kid, and I want to hear how he felt about it then, and how he feels about it now, some thirteen years on. About his music career, he says: “The effort is what really counts. Having tried it was fundamental, but also understanding that if it didn’t work, it just wasn’t for me”. He does, however, attribute his success to his obsessive attitude (hmmm). At any rate, you’re a JOY to have around, Liam, so I’m glad it DID work out!

The feature also came with PICTURES, of course, in which he looks better than anyone reasonably has a right to - I have to keep reminding myself that if I want to stay impartial, I can’t be attracted to any of them, but DAMN did Liam test my resolve in these! They had him in glasses and a knitted hoodie/jumper/sweater thing holding a guitar on the cover photo. There are other pictures in which he’s wearing half undone button up shirts and too cool for school shades and looking moodily off into the distance (while holding his guitar) and a few where he’s looking pensively down in a blue paisley shirt and glasses (whew!). I think it’s the glasses that killed me, tbh, but go check them out, because I’m certainly not doing them justice! 

In some sunny news, Free My Meal popped up again to thank Louis for raising awareness for their cause, calling him a legend (we been knew, but it’s nice to see!) and using hashtags like “#noshame” and ��#justask”, and I have to say - sometimes, you would be surprised at how kind people can be if you ask. ALSO, I am bringing this charity up literally ANY TIME I have the opportunity to, because I think it is doing phenomenal work, and I wish there were more programs like this one.

I also have a little bit of a Clown Car update for you: yesterday, Nick Gordon posted a “#theysaidyes” picture, featuring both Briana and Freddie, and captioning with a quote from...wait for it...When Harry Met Sally!!! He then went on a comment reading spree, liking such comments as “Although you are not the real father, you will be the best father, believe me” and “*** **”. I...am actually speechless, which never happens to me. AND THEN! Briana followed and account called “thepropertybrokers” which is an “Investment Property Specialist” account in Beverly Hills. Are you...going somewhere, girl? Don’t be shy, *** **. 

And, hmmm, let me think - what day is it? Oh, yeah, the 28th, I almost forgot! You know who DIDN'T? Paul Higgins, former One Direction bodyguard and bona fide Tour Dad, who went around Instagram liking “Happy Anniversary, Harry and Louis!” posts, including my favorite, which was captioned: “Happy 7th anniversary love birds! 28th September 2013 - it’s so great to see how two beautiful friends finally did it!...”. Yeah, guys, nothing to see here, they’re just celebrating 7 years of a beautiful and committed BROMANCE, doncha know? 

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|10

chapter 10: the prop

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: the yellow flowers 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings:  swearing, angst, didn’t proof read, flashbacks in italics

word count: 7.5k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) :  tweets, instagrams and texts:

previous chapter  next chapter  series masterlist  wanna be tagged?

:)

Third time's the charm. At least that’s what Tom had taught you over the course of the years. Except of course, it wasn’t as charming. 

It was funny, how Timothee had shown you the importance of props, but how you had learned about them throughout your whole relationship with Tom. 

Props, scenes and dialogues. Tom had taught you the importance of character development because hell, had he made you develop after the last time he’d broken your heart. 

You had read somewhere that a heartbreak could be physically felt, you hadn’t really believed it until that particular third time. You had felt how your chest hurt, crushing. Literal pain had come across your entire body. You had forgotten how to breathe and everything had gone blurry. 

You believed it now, heartbreaks can be felt. You took it into account for your script. A mental note. You didn’t know if it was more as a reminder for yourself. 

Three mental notes. 

Heartbreaks can be felt.

Don’t fall back in love with him. 

Having your heart broken by Tom had been the worst experience of your life and you didn’t want to go there again. 

The number three was important. Three had been a constant in your relationship. Before all of this mess,  of course. There were many three times but there were particular ones that couldn’t be exactly forgotten. 

Three times had he gone on a date with you. 

Three times had he kissed you. 

Three times had he cooked for you.

Three times had he held your hand.

Three times had he danced with you. 

And three times had Tom given you yellow flowers to apologize.

The third time, it was all ruined. The particular combination of three of the past mentioned had caused the piercing in your heart and your incurable character development. 

Most of them really. Everything was probably a combination leading to your heartbreak. 

Like when he held your hand. The first time, you had been children. And it had been sweet. You remembered it, perfectly. You had been at a wedding, a friend of your mom and his was getting married. Well, you didn’t particularly remember it, but there’s probably a video of it. With you and your pink dress and the flowers on your head. 

It had been short after Tom had given you the first yellow flowers, apologizing for being an asshole from a very short age. 

Yes, the first yellow flowers had been after you had pathetically tried to make him kiss you with that stupid movie scene you’d written. After he’d call you stupid and said he’d rather eat a frog than kiss you. 

Shortly after that you were at a wedding, for the first time he held your hand because he wanted to. 

It had been first at the church, he had been watching you, and he had blushed. And slowly he had held your hand. 

And that led to the party, when he hadn’t stopped holding your hand, and he had taken you to the dance floor. As if trying to forget that probably a week before he had pushed you in the hallway at school. Very complicated. 

Of course, after that Tom had then smeared cake on your face. You couldn’t expect any less. But it had been slightly nice. 

Tom and you had kissed 3 times. The first had been your very first kiss, the second at a party, you were 17. Just after the second time you’ve ever danced with Tom, after he’d taken you to prom. An after party where alcohol was all you needed. Of course you were not in your best state, your feelings for Tom had resurfaced, because he had been an angel for taking you just after your stupid boyfriend had dumped you. There you were, both drunk enough and smittened enough, and that damned Louis guy. You hated him because thanks to him, Tom and you had ended up kissing, fervently and passionately. Or that’s how your friends had described it. 

There was a video of that. And it was buried deep in your files, but you didn’t want to think about it. Not that you had filmed it on purpose. Someone on Snapchat had been filming the party and they had captured the fact moment you’d kissed. It wasn’t pretty. 

You remembered it, it went something like—“Prom was boring and oh—shit, oh shit, shit, shit, y/n and Tom are kissing. Fucking hell!” 

Not. Pretty. 

But the third time you’ve ever kissed… that had been even more complicated. 

Because what had led to the third kiss was very complicated. Two dates. And the last time you’d danced. The third time Tom had taken you out on a date, and it had all gone to shit. Because the third time you’ve ever kissed, you’ve ever danced and you’ve ever dated lead to the third yellow flowers.

Tom had given you pastel each time to apologize but the yellow flowers meant it was his idea. Pastel colored flowers meant it was coming from Harry, but yellow flowers meant it came from Tom. 

He had given you flowers many times, yellow flowers. But only three times had he given you yellow flowers to apologize. The first time you’d thrown them away. The second time, you’d given them back and the third time…. well. 

It had been three years before all of, on the night you’d met Timmy, but six months before dating Timmy. 

But the context was far beyond that. It all came back to the prank wars, held a year before the incident. In which Tom and you had pulled pranks on each other. Some very elaborate, some simple ones. Like that time you changed his shampoo with condensed milk. That had been fun. Or when he had hidden all your spoons, one by one.

Simple pranks, at the beginning. Nothing too hurtful. But things got way out of hand. So you stopped it. 

But of course, you both ended up living on the edge. And at some point, it got slightly forgotten. 

You were going to be studying abroad for the summer,  Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia, the place that would coincidentally be the reason as to why you ended up talking to Timmy more and more after you’d met. But that’s another story. 

Tom had left either for a press tour or filming. You didn’t remember. But somehow, he ended up in Italy too, and so he decided to join you. You both had agreed on clubbing together, and somehow that led to the very next day deciding to go out together, dinner. Nothing too special. But he had ended up in your dorm room helping you with your homework. You stayed up late, laughing at dumb shit till sunrise. 

You didn’t know what exactly had led to that, but being alone and far from home had made you both be decent. A little bit more decent than usual. Your head on his shoulder, and his hand brushing yours. 

That had been your first date, or so you had thought. You liked to think of it as a date. 

“We should do this more often, hang out, only the two of us,” he had said. “Without having to pretend we hate each other.” 

“I’m not pretending,” you chuckled. 

“Maybe I am,” he said. “But you know what I mean, look, this was nice, wasn’t it?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Should we go for some espressos since we didn’t sleep shit last night.” 

“Maybe.” 

“That’s not a yes.” 

“It isn’t a no either.” 

And you had coffee, but he had to leave. 

Which led to the second date, back in London when the summer had ended and when he was back, for a bit. 

You went to a pub, alone and without telling anyone. You had had fun again, and you had walked around London. That had been the third time he’d held your hand. And the flame had been sparked. 

“I need help believing this is actually happening.” You watched him. 

“Why?” Tom asked. 

“I feel like you poisoned me.” 

He chuckled, “yeah, I thought you had poisoned me, but maybe, you’ve bewitched me in other ways.” 

“Oh I am a witch.” 

“How else would you explain I’ve fallen under your spell.” 

It felt so real, so nice. Just the two of you, walking around London, illuminated by the streetlights, pointing out silly things. Slightly boozed up, but not really. It had been romantic, you remembered as he had walked you to your door and kissed your cheek.

After that you both had been texting every day, and calling each other. No sign of your hatred anymore. Pictures of kisses on cheeks, silly videos. 

And it was nice, and maybe everyone started to notice, because you hadn’t been fighting on one of those family reunions. You had even been sitting together. 

“You and Tom are finally friends?” Sam asked. 

You had only looked at Tom and smiled slightly. “Yeah. I guess.” 

“Since when?” Harry chuckled. 

“We saw each other back when I was back at Rome,” you explained. “It’s nice not to be fighting.” 

It took you only two… dates, now you refused to call them that, but it took you no time to fall in love with him. So deeply. And it felt like listening to your favorite song, or like watching your favorite movie. 

Because you’d continue to hang out, not dates really. Only hanging out. Like that one time he only showed up at your door with some pizza and just watched you finish a project. Or that time when he asked you to come over while he was reading a script and you played with his hair. 

It had been nice, all a secret. Nobody knew. A perfect secret. 

Until it really wasn’t. 

Tom and you had gone out again, first for dinner and then he’d taken you to a club, you’d be dancing. 

That was the third time Tom had ever kissed you, and that was the third time Tom had ever danced with you, and the third time he’d ever taken you out alone, on a sorta type of date. 

Of course, it had been romantic and perfect and nice. And he had laughed and kissed you again. And you had been dancing, even if you were a terrible dancer, and even if you barely knew what was going on. 

Of course, that’s when it all went to shit. 

Because little did you know that the night would turn to be shittiest day of your life. 

Somehow, Harry, Sam, Haz, Tuwaine and some other friends had gone to the same club. That’s when things had started going all downhill. 

Of course when they’d seen you they’d come quickly and Tom had turned cold, and walked away from you. Which of course had you wondering if anything was wrong. 

“Why didn’t you guys tell us you’d be here?” Harry had asked.

Tom only took a sip of his drink. “Mmh, I did, I did, I thought that’s why you guys were joining us.” 

“You guys hanging out together alone?” Emilia, one of your friends, pointed out. “Sounds sketchy.” 

“Please they’ve been hanging out alone for a while,” Haz laughed. 

“Really?” Harry asked, watching between you and Tom. 

“No,” Tom denied it, as he ordered more alcohol. “No, no.” 

You frowned. “Well—“

“Are you guys dating or something?” Emily pushed. 

Tom frowned. “Please, Emily, as if I would ever date someone like y/n.” 

You stayed quiet. 

“Anyway, we’re here let’s… let’s have fun,” Tom added. 

The night continued and eventually Tom walked away again to get more drinks, you followed after him. 

“Aren’t we going to tell them? I mean they already caught us,” you asked as the loud music could barely even let you hear your own thoughts. The blue lights were dizzying you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he ordered another drink. 

“Tom.” 

“Tell them what? Nothing is happening.” 

You frowned. “Really, nothing?” 

“Why are you acting up?” He frowned. “Just be normal, y/n.” 

“I thought—“

Tom chuckled. “What did you think?” 

Harry joined the two of you. “What was really going on, guys?” 

“Nothing, Harry,” Tom pushed past you, going back to your friends. 

“You guys came here alone?” Harry asked, leaning over to your ear so you could listen to him.

“I—well, kind of?” You gulped. “But—I think I should talk to Tom.” 

Harry frowned. “What’s happening, y/n?” 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to talk about it with anyone but Tom. 

But you went back to the group, and danced slightly. You didn’t want to hide anything, you wanted to keep acting like you were before. Your friends could know. It didn’t matter. 

You would sometimes dance closer to Tom and for moments he’d forget everything and smile at you but something had gotten into him and he’d push you away and ignore you. 

A group of other people had approached you and danced with you. And at first it didn’t matter. But you recognized some faces, they went to school with you. 

You remember taking out your phone and dancing close to Tom, but he only pushed your phone away. “Cmon y/n, I don’t want people seeing us together.” 

That’s when you had felt it. Initially. The first pain across your chest.

But if he wanted to play that game, you could play it too, you ignored him and danced with your friends. But then you couldn’t ignore him.

One of the three girls from the other group that had approached you had his hands around Tom. A hint of jealousy could be seen on your face, your stomach jolted and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. As her delicate fingers were brushing his hair and walking down his chest. As his own hand pulled her hips closer thin as they danced, and as he looked at her and only her. But his eyes went back to you at some point. And he had smirked at you. 

You didn’t understand what was going on. Why was he dancing along with the other girl? He was supposed to be dancing with you. Only hours before his lips were on yours and they’d tasted sweet and they had been soft. And his hands had held you so warmly. 

Why was he now with her? Where had all gone to shit?

The music had calmed down slightly and some of you had sat down, with little miss short pink skirt cheering everything Tom was doing. 

“I seriously thought you guys were on a date,”Emily had pointed out again. 

“Please y/n is too…”he scrunched his nose looking at you. “I’m sorry y/n, you’re going to die alone.” 

You frowned as you stood up, “Tom, can I talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckled as he looked at the pink skirt. “I’m good here.” 

You ignored them as you had gone back to dancing. You joined the group of people who had joined you. 

One of the guys had been watching you, his green eyes staggering you as he smiled at you. His dancing had you entranced, but not entranced enough to forget about Tom. But it was true, you couldn’t get your eyes off of him. 

“You’re—I’ve seen you in my classes,” he whispered in your ear.

“Oh yes, you seem familiar,” you chuckled as you danced. 

“I’m—I’m Tim,” he offered you a hand. So proper. 

You chuckled, shaking it. “Y/N, nice to meet you.” 

But you looked back at Tom, and even though you had seen it coming, that didn’t stop you from breaking. 

You felt like not even the lights had helped you, you felt like there were two single spotlights, one on you as you felt a stab across your chest, and the other one on Tom as he was practically eating the pink skirt up. Her lips were on his. His were on hers. 

The music had stopped. 

Why was he doing this? How had this turned into your worst nightmare? Only hours before he was kissing you. Deeply. Nicely. Not like that. 

Had the kiss been bad? Was it your clothes? Had it been the way you had been too clingy? What had you done wrong? 

You felt like you were going to faint. You had stopped breathing. You had to sit down but not with them. 

“Hey, are you—are you okay?” Tim had asked you, as you were trying to catch your breath. 

“I—I need to sit down,” you said. 

“Oh okay, of course let me—“Tim had led the way to his table,  but your eyes were still glued to Tom and pink skirt. 

“Ah, Hally seems to be having a good time over there with your friend,” Tim pointed out. 

“Huh?”

“Tom right? He is—Tom Holland? Hally, my friend—she’s— she's the one—well, getting friendly with him, and that other girl, that’s Emma the one talking to your friend.” 

“Oh.” You couldn’t talk to him. You felt sick. Your whole body had weakened and you felt a pain in your chest. A stomach ache. A headache. Everything hurt.  

Everything had turned blurry. You barely remembered what was going on, the last thing you remember was seeing him walk out of the place with her. Not you. With her. 

You had reached out for Sam, telling him you didn’t feel well. You guess Sam realized what was going on. He didn’t ask much, only if you wanted him to stay and if you were alright. 

And you had cried yourself to sleep, alone. Because who could you tell? What did you win by telling anyone this? Why did you feel that way? Why had he done it? A million questions had surfaced. 

Where had they gone? Had he planned on doing this?

You hadn’t slept at all. You had skipped breakfast, and lunch. And you hadn’t gone to your class. 

You were supposed to go out with the Holland’s, you didn’t go. 

Someone had knocked at your door, and you didn’t stand up. You were too busy with a spoonful of chocolate icing that you’d saved for a cake. But it seemed more interesting eating it now that you had a million questions and it didn’t involve any cooking. 

They knocked again. 

You stood up and finally opened the door, and you saw him. You could tell he hadn’t slept either, for different reasons than yours, of course. He had that glow everybody talked about. And compared to you and your sweatpants, and your puffy eyes from crying. 

You gave him a glance as you saw yellow flowers in his hands. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said as you tried closing the door but he stopped it. 

“Y/n I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” You crossed your arms.

“For—I don’t know.” 

“You’ve got to be shitting me Tom,” you said as you saw the pathetic excuse of flowers he was holding. “You ended up with another chick on a date? And you think I’m forgiving you with that?”

“Please it wasn’t even a real date.” 

And those words stung, and the headache was back. Had you read all the signs wrong? Had he backed up because you’d been that bad of a date? Had he gotten bored. 

“It wasn’t? It wasn’t?” Was all you could ask. “It was clearly a date Thomas! We’ve been—“

“Oh my god you thought this was real?” Tom chuckled.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He threw his head back, and rubbed his eyes. “This was all part of the prank war we’ve got going on I thought you knew—“

Something didn’t add up. “You—this?”

“You’ve got to be shitting me y/n you thought this was real?”

“So what was exactly the prank, Tom?” You couldn’t believe him. Was the prank breaking your heart? He won. He had won. And you thought about it. It didn’t make any sense. 

“You fell for it?” 

“Tom, you’ve got to—But still, prank or not. That was shitty you fucking left me there and—“

Tom sighed as he walked into your apartment. “That was the fucking point, I left you for someone else, that was the prank.” 

“What kind of shitty prank is that?” You yelled at him. “Who the fuck does that?” 

He looked away. “The point was hurting you, I succeeded didn’t I?”

You were hurt. Even more hurt knowing that he had done this on purpose. What he fuck was wrong with him. You headed to the kitchen trying to catch your breath. 

You stayed quiet for a bit, he could’ve grabbed a knife and stabbed you and it would’ve hurt less than this. He didn’t say anything, he was only staring at you. As if he was too proud of himself to admit he was sorry. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You couldn’t believe him. Worst part was you couldn’t even let him you had cried all night, you were so broken-hearted. You couldn’t believe he was doing this. And you didn’t believe him. He couldn’t have possibly planned this. Which made it even worse. Because if he’d seen the chance, it was because he probably didn’t like you the same way and chose instead to use your weaknesses once again against you. 

He sighed as he looked around.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You repeated. 

 “I dunno, thought it would make you laugh and I  didn't know you’d get this mad.” 

You walked away to your couch. 

“You’re an asshole,” you yelled. He followed after you. 

“Y/N, come on I Said I’m sorry—“

You picked up a cushion and threw it ahim. “Oh my god leave, Tom! Get away from me. Leave me alone.” 

He picked up the cushion and walked over. “No, I’m sorry… I’m not… gonna give this back,” he placed the cushion far from you. 

But you threw another cushion at his face as he closed his eyes. 

“Y/N, calm down,”he wanted as he saw you with the pint of chocolate icing and you hugged your third cushion.  He sat across you, and then watched you, carefully. He did seem sorry, but you couldn’t quite believe him. 

You only glared. There wasn’t really anything you could do. He seemed concerned, and conflicted. “Y/N I’m sorry,” his voice was softer as he approached you. 

You stayed quiet again for quite a bit. Your thoughts mapping in your mind. 

“Did you hook up with her?” You asked after a while of silence.

“Yes I did,”he looked away but then scrunched his nose. “But why do you care?” 

You looked away. “I don’t.” But you punched him with the cushion.

“Y/N can you stop—“he frowned. 

You only kept punching him, in all honesty it probably didn’t even hurt him. It was only your way to get out all of the anger. 

“Y/N, are you done, now?” He asked before you threw it back at him. 

“Then why the fuck did you ask me out?” 

How were you supposed to react to this? How the hell were you supposed not to cry when it hurt so much? How were you supposed to keep watching him When you could barely breathe. You couldn’t let him see you cry. 

“Because I thought you knew this was part of the prank war.” 

“How the fuck—“

“Jesus y/n no,” he closed his eyes. “You thought this was real,” he said to himself.

“I didn’t.”

He watched you. “You did.” He stood up and rubbed his face. “Shit, now I do feel like a real bastard. Can you forgive me?”

“No.” 

“Fuck, I bought you yellow flowers,” he said pointing at the flowers he’d left on your kitchen counter. 

You laughed. “Ah that’s it, that’ll mend everything!”

He rubbed his face. “Oh my god y/n this comes back to you being the same damn fool.” 

You stood up. “Excuse me?”

“You really thought I wanted to go out with you?” He watched you. 

Of course everything made sense now. You were very stupid, you were a fucking fool for believing it. “No.”

“You’re still like that little girl thinking I could ever—Oh my god y:n, I thought we’d grown past that crush of yours,” he had changed his voice as he paced around the room. He walked around arrogantly. 

“I don’t have a crush on you,” you snapped as you walked over. “Get out of my life.” 

“Y/N love,” he reached for your hand but you snapped it off. Ldid you really think this would turn out—“

“No, but I can’t believe you’d be such a shitty person to fucking leave me in a place full of strangers and such a shittier person by making a prank that would hurt my feelings, you didnt but I can’t believe you even though of that.” 

He looked away. “I’m very aware I didn’t hurt you. You were doing just fine with those green eyes.” 

You let out a cynical laugh. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you Thomas. Get out of my life I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Y/N, I’m actually really sorry, can you—“

“No.” 

He looked hurt now. But it seemed different as if he hadn’t meant whatever he’d said before. His eyes begged for forgiveness, but he spoke bullshit. Seconds ago he had been such an arrogant son of a bitch but now his sight was begging you to forgive him. But you knew better. 

He tried taking your hands. “Y/N please—“

“No,” you pushed him away. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this way.” 

“What way were you trying to hurt me then?” You questioned as you stepped closer, he stepped back. “What the hell were you trying to do?” You walked back to the kitchen and stared at the yellow flowers.

“I—I don’t know,” he admitted. “Please, at least accept the flowers.” 

You turned on the stove, took out your kettle. 

“Y/N,” he sighed watching you. 

“How the fuck did you go from hiding my spoons to wanting to rip my heart off?” You questioned him. “I’m not—I’m such an idiot believing we’d be friends. You’re right, I’m the biggest idiot for forgetting how big of an asshole you actually are.” 

He didn’t say anything, and only pushed the flowers closer to you. 

You stared at them, you grabbed them and started ripping off each and every one of the petals. 

“Y/N—“

You only glared at him. You proceeded to take the kettle out of the fire and then burnt each and everyone of the petals. 

He only watched you, he seemed disappointed. He stayed incredibly quiet. So cold to be watching. 

When you were done, you scattered the ashes and placed them in a bag, and handed them to him. 

“Get out of my life now.” 

Of course you couldn't see yellow flowers from that moment on. And he had left without trying anymore. You had cried for months. Heartbreaks can be felt. 

Something bright had come from that night, however. Timmy. 

From them you had promised yourself you’d never fall for Tom again. You couldn’t. Your heart couldn’t bear it. 

But now, you’d slept three times with him. Something had to go wrong. So there you were wondering what this could go wrong with him this time. What would he pull now? 

Three things you remembered when you woke up. 

Heartbreaks can be felt

Don’t fall back in love with him. 

Having your heart broken by Tom had been the worst experience of your life and you didn’t want to go there again. 

You didn’t remember when you fell asleep. You remembered talking all night long with him, showing him songs and forgetting about the world outside. But your heart ached, making you remember how he could hurt you again. 

Even if you’d woken up in his arms, all cuddled up with clothes on, you knew this was going to go to hell. There was something about spooning with clothes on, somehow it made it more intimate. 

You tried sitting up, as you tried rubbing your sore muscles from sleeping on the floor. Tom tried pulling you back to him, he was still fast asleep. It was pretty early. You reached for your phone, 9 am. You had many notifications, you checked Instagram first, your heart warmed up as you saw the pancakes. You kept going through your phone, ignoring the texts you were getting. 

Your heart ached when you hovered Timmy’s name. 

And it hurt to think that you’d let him go. It hurt to think that your feelings for the dumbass laying down beside you would ruin a relationship so pure. 

Harry had texted you, several times. You finally opened the message to realize that now the Holland twins and now even your brother knew that your car was parked right outside. 

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then pushed Tom. “Tom. Tom! Tom” You shook him. 

He groaned and only pulled you closer. 

“Get off me,” you whispered as you kept shaking him. “Tom wake up!” 

“Y/N,” he complained. “Five minutes more…” he said sleepily. “I’ll kiss you in a bit. Calm down.” 

“What?” You frowned as you kept shaking him. “Get up, loser, we got caught.” 

“Hm?” 

“We got caught! Harry—“

Tom woke up immediately and sat up. “Harry?” 

“Harry saw my car, they’re asking on the group chat and now they’re—“Your phone started to ring. “They’re calling me.” 

“Fuck,” he looked at his phone. “Shit—And we have our breakfast.” 

“What?”

“We were supposed to have breakfast as a family to wish Harry good luck, family things—“Tom Dan a hand through his hair. “Okay—So—“He looked over at you. “We—Okay, we aren’t exactly dressed for—“he looked over at you. “Okay—wow I can see those—“

You covered your chest. 

“Tom.” 

He smirked. “I’m not complaining,” he said, earning a slight punch on his shoulder. 

“What’s the plan?” You asked him. 

“Do you think they would be able to tell? Don’t you have anything magical in your backpack?” 

“Makeup—?” 

“Think makeup will cover up that red gorgeous thing?” Tom teased. 

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him away. But he shuffled closer, placing his hands on your hips. “Tom, get your hands off me, and figure this out.” 

He sighed. “Fine—I’ll—I’ll go in, and distract them, you’ll sneak to the bathroom and I’ll just—say I invited you for breakfast.” 

“You’re—“You frowned. “Breakfast with your family after hooking up.” 

He laughed, and then kissed your cheek. “Getting coupley are we?” 

“No, go fix this shit.” 

“Fine, I’ll say you came here to say goodbye to Harry.” 

He leaned over for a kiss but you stopped him, placing your hand on his lips. He frowned but kissed your hand anyway. 

“I’ll text you when the coast is cleared, then you’ll sneak” he warned as he carefully climbed down the treehouse. 

You watched him not so sneakily get into the house. You took out your makeup bag to make sure there was no hint in your face that you’d slept with him the night before. You made it as natural as you could, but then you saw it on your neck, a place where Tom had not been able to separate from last night. A bright purple hickey, set on your collarbone. You cursed again and then covered it up. You couldn’t let the Holland’s see this. Not because it involved Tom, thing that you definitely didn’t want them to know. But still, you didn’t want them to know that you weren’t exactly the angel they thought you were. 

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You didn’t know what you had thought the night before. You were going to give in, to what? You’d already slept with him and had breakfast and two a.m. conversations. You took out the Polaroid of Tom and couldn’t help but smile just slightly, but the smile was quickly erased. You couldn’t  go any further than that, you were on the edge now. You were exactly on the point where if you spent 10 more minutes alone with him and his stupid gorgeous face you’d fall. But you couldn’t. You had those 3 mental notes and you didn’t want to go to that place again. But this was the third time you slept together, you expected him to blow it up. What would he do?

But this felt different. And hell, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t addicted to his kiss. But no, this was wrong. You didn’t want to go there. You couldn’t do that to your heart. 

Timmy had texted you again, begging for you guys to talk. He apologized for what he’d done. Hell, hours before you’d kissed Timmy too. It had been a pretty messed up 24 hours. 

You were sick for doing what you’d done. You groaned as you ran a hand through your hair.

Tom texted you to carefully sneak into the bathroom, he had them covered and then he’d give an excuse. 

You managed to walk into the house, but you caught a glimpse of Sam. You weren’t sure if he saw you, but he probably hadn’t. 

Tom texted you again to come out and join them in the kitchen. Of course when you walked out you hadn’t expected to bump into the whole family when you walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi!” And suddenly you were very aware of your outfit. Your pair of sweatpants and white t-shirt was probably not an outfit that you’d be wearing any time. Except of course for a hookup. And it was very awkward seeing the whole family dressed up. 

You only hoped they wouldn’t put two and two together. 

“Y/N love, I’m glad you’re here,” Nikki said. 

Dom smiled at you. 

Sam was too busy making breakfast as you stared at Tom who seemed as nervous as you were. 

“Yeah, I just… came here to say goodbye to Harry,” you grinned, as you looked around, looking for him.

Harry walked behind you and poked your sides, making you jump. 

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t see you come in,” Harry pointed out, as he hugged you. “And I’m just surprised you’re not dressed as any of the characters from the Breakfast Club.” 

You laughed. “I—Uh.” 

“We went for a run,” Tom lied, intruding in. “Uh—well we no, I’m joking no—We were—going to go together to rehearse the—choreography for the movie.” 

“Yeah, we were going to do that, but he suggested we go for a run.” 

“You guys are getting along now?” Nikki chuckled. 

Sam laughed. “Well, Toms paying her to get along.” 

“I—well,” you chuckled. 

Paddy walked into the kitchen. “Hello, y/n!” 

“Hi, Pads.” 

You turned to Harry. “So, you’re done packing? Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—Im ready,” he grinned. 

Tom licked his lips. “Well—you can say bye to Harry and then you’re gone, right? Bye y/n.” 

“Ah, come on,”Dom frowned. “You’re joining us for breakfast.” 

“I thought this was family breakfast,” Tom said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you gulped. “Yeah, it’s alright I was going to head—“

Nikki glared at her song. “Nonsense, Y/N’s like family, so, you’re staying right?” 

The whole family stared at you. 

“Well… alright?” 

You ended up helping in the kitchen, Tom would smile at you from afar every now and then. But you were talking more to the twins, and remembering old anecdotes. They had you and Tom cutting some fruit, and you were even giggling. Smiling to each other. Too good to be true. 

But every time you felt the butterflying on your stomach, you had to remember last time. But this was different, you weren’t in love with him. Or were you? But the problem was you knew him too well, and now every single damn movement he did would give you thoughts any lady shouldn’t have. His fingers were too interesting for you. 

Of course he noticed, and he hid a snicker as he then smirked at you. 

You had to stop and take a deep breath when his hand had landed on your waist to push you to the side. He only grinned and then headed to the table. 

Sam approached you with a chuckle. “You guys are friends?”

“No,” you cleared your throat. 

Sam laughed staring at you. “If I didn’t know any better—“

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Sam smirked. “Just don’t forget I know both of you, y/n.” 

You frowned as you watched him leave. 

Eventually, you were all sitting down, you didn’t know why or who had changed the sitting arrangement, but Tom and you had ended up on the same side, together. The damn table, two people on each side. And out of everyone you were sitting with Tom. 

They hadn’t pointed it out. 

Your mind was going crazy. You were losing it, as you realized this was the second breakfast you were having with him. This was breaking all the rules. Especially since it involved his family. 

Of course you didn’t expect what Tom was going to end up doing. His hand on your thigh, going up and down. Slowly. Fingers tracing its way, zigzagging up and down. Your eyes only widened as you tried shifting your way away from him. But he only chuckled. 

Of course two could play at that game. Your own hand landed on his thighs, close to his bulge. He only coughed. 

You had to be very sneaky. This was playing with fire. But your hand slowly rubbed his legs. But you had to be very careful. His parents and brothers were there. 

But then he grabbed your hand and then kept holding it, rubbing your hand with gentle circles. You frowned watching him. You didn’t take it away.

 And besides that, it was a lovely breakfast. Very nice conversation. You’d always loved the other Holland’s, excluding Tom of course. 

But he had kept holding your hand. And only flashbacks were hitting you. It was a constant roller coaster of feelings between it making you blush and remembering the horrible experience you’d gone through. 

But this meant something. You hoped. Maybe he was falling for you. Of course you didn’t want to scream victory, but at least you could write about it. 

“So what’s the choreography going?” Asked Nikki. “What’s it like?” 

“It’s… very 80’s,” Tom said, squeezing your hand. 

You cleared your throat trying to pull away but he only squeezed it more and intertwined your fingers. You felt your chest jolt but then gulped. 

“Yeah, very—I heard the director wants all Dirty Dancing kind of stuff,” you added.

“Oh, you should help him out then, y/n!” Sam chuckled. “I know for a fact that you know the whole choreographies in that movie.” 

“Oh no, she knows the high school musical ones,” Harry laughed. “And sadly we know them too because you made us learn it.” 

You grinned. “I’m glad.” 

Somehow they continued complaining about it, and your other shenanigans you’d forced them to do while growing up. 

“So, you guys are leaving too, right? In two weeks?” Asked Dom. 

“Yeah, yeah, New York and Atlanta,” You confirmed. 

“You guys are taking different planes right?” Sam laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on a plane with two young adults fighting.”

Tom laughed. “We are—friends now.” 

Nikki grinned. “I actually can see that,” she pointed out. “By now you’d probably be stabbing each other with a fork.” 

“Hm, thanks for the idea.” You laughed. 

Tom grinned to himself.

Eventually, it was time for you to leave. They’d be getting Harry to the airport, and Tom asked you for a ride. 

It had been weird saying goodbye to Harry and wishing him good luck when you really had a lot of stuff to talk about with him. It felt weird not being able to talk about it with anyone. You had your own thoughts to yourself. And you had to wish him good luck and you couldn’t really tell him that he had fucked up about Emma. Not that you would tell him anyways. It was weird that you knew you were hiding secrets from him. 

You were driving, and your phone was ringing and ringing. Timmy. 

You ignored it, you couldn’t answer in front of Tom. This was absolutely none of his business. But of course his eyes were glued to your phone. 

He had stayed slightly quiet because you had been quiet. You were debating with yourself really. What would he do this time that he’d end up with more yellow flowers at your door with an empty apology? 

“So—“

You didn’t say anything. 

Tom only kept watching your phone. “Seems like Tim Shampoo really wants to talk to you.” 

“Chalamet,” you corrected him. 

“Champagne showers,  whatever his fancy ass name is,” he rolled his eyes. “He really wants to talk to you.” 

You eyed your phone. “Right.” 

Tom scrunched his lips. “Aaaand he texted you.” 

“Tom leave that alone—“

“Let’s see—He says: that he… is still thinking about that kiss,” his eyes widened. 

You cleared your throat. 

“What kiss?” 

You didn’t answer. 

“Y/N, what kiss?” 

You looked at the road. “Do people not know how to drive?” 

“Y/N. Did you kiss him?” He frowned. 

“None of your business,” you whispered as you tried turning up the music. 

He turned it off. “What?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you pushed. 

He coughed. “But what if I want it to be my business?”

You scowled. “Why would it be?”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Did you kiss him?” 

You had just pulled over at his place. 

“Y/N did you kiss him?” 

“We’re here.” You stopped the car. 

“Did you?” 

And you saw the irony of it. How the tables had been turned? But were they? 

You rolled your eyes. “He kissed me.” 

“When?” 

“After the party.” 

Tom ran a hand through his hair. “And then you called me?”

You shrugged. “Yes. Does it matter?” 

“I dunno,” he snapped. “How would you feel if I had kissed someone else then called you?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Disappointed but not surprised, sounds like some kind of shit you’d doze 

Tom only stared at you. “No, y/n… but this, you should tell me that?”

You frowned. “Why?” You questioned him. “We are not friends, we are enemies who happened to be sleeping together.” 

“Well but sleeping with you gives me some rights—“

“What?” You laughed. “What kind of rights? We are not exclusive and it was only a kiss.” 

“But—“Tom gulped. 

“You’re home Tom, get off my car,” you frowned. 

“Okay what the hell is going on here?” He watched you. “you were being nice last night and this morning.” 

“Well, we’re back to being aggressive,” you gulped. You knew you were defensive because you were too scared of Tom being nice and you were too scared of Tom wanting more. “sleeping together doesn’t change the fact that we hate each other.” 

Tom looked away. “It doesn’t huh.” 

“No.” 

Tom watched you. “But don’t you think I deserve to know?”

“Why must you deserve knowing anything about me?” You snapped. “You’re gonna turn it against me anyway,” you sassed. 

He looked hurt. “You really think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I know you’re that kind of person,” you frowned..

He sighed. “Y/n.”

You threw your hands in the air. “I’m just waiting for it, Tom, when is it going to come? What’s the name of this game? What are you going to win?” 

He didn’t say anything. “Y/n.” 

“Seriously, Tom,” you sighed. “Get off my car, I don’t need to have this conversation with you.” 

“I thought we were being nice,” he pointed out. 

“I don’t trust you.” 

He reached out for your hair. “Why are you being so defensive?”

You flicked his hand away. “Really, Tom? You ask that.” 

“Well yes,” he growled. “Just last night we were kind of—having a moment?”

“Exactly and then you’ll turn into the asshole,” you sighed. You looked over at him. “I’m sorry if I can’t trust you. I don’t know why that is, maybe because you’ve proven to me many times how big of an asshole you can be so I’m just waiting for it, what’s it gonna be this time?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Well how do I know that?” You stared at the wheel. “I can’t trust you Tom, I really can’t trust you this time, but expect a text I guess I get bored.” 

“No.” 

You frowned. “No?”

“What if I want this to be different this time?” He sighed. “What if—“

“This time it’s different,” you admitted. “I won’t catch feelings for you.” 

He clenched his jaw. “You’re right, I don’t know why we are having this conversation,” he said. “So, go and sleep with Timmy too if you want. I won’t care,” he said before finally getting out of the car. 

“Fine,” you watched him walk away. 

“Fine,” he yelled back. 

“Fine.”You stared at his house. 

Three times had you slept with him, and you’d been the one to fuck it up this time. 

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

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[bl597]

hey love!! can i please have a harry x reader based on always you by louis tomlinson? hope you can do something with that!!🌻it’s ok if u can’t, either way, thank u

hello, darling! of course you can! i'm really sorry if it's not how you wanted it to be, I can rewrite it for you if you want to! hope you enjoy it!

warnings: agnst but fluffy at the end, english is not my first language, underage drinking (?), lyrics are in italic and bold!

my masterlist ♡

I went to Amsterdam without you

And all I could do was think about you

and, oh oh oh

I should've known

Harry and you always went to Hogsmeade together at the trips, but this time he was without you, he was alone. Harry knew that he would regret breaking up with you, and he started regretting ever since the very first minute after you two broke up.

He now sat alone in one of the shops, watching the happy couples walking around the village, holding hands and smiling at each other. And, as much as he tried not to, he couldn't help but think about you. About the two of you, holding hands and smiling sweetly at each other like these couples. But he couldn't do it anymore, he should've known when he decided to end the things between you two.

I went to Tokyo to let it go

Drink after drink, but I still felt alone

I should've known

He always went to The Three Broomsticks to have a cup or two of butterbear. He knew butterbear isn't an alcoholic drink, but it kind of helped him a little bit, like the firewhiskey did. The firewhiskey helped him forget you better, but he didn't like the bitter taste of the alcohol on his tongue, it made him remember the stupid competitions you two had, to see who could handle more drinks.

But, even though he had more drinks that he wanted to, he still felt alone. You weren't there, you weren't there to take care of him later or to tell him it was time to get some rest. You weren't there, and he hated it. He hated himself for being so stupid.

I went to so many places

Looking for you in their faces

I can feel it

Oh, I can feel it

He even tried to go out with other people; Cho Chang, Parvati Patil, Ginny Weasley. But it never worked, it was always a failure. There was always something wrong: they weren't you. They didn't look or acted like you. They didn't speak like you, they didn't make him feel like you did.

Maybe it was because he wasn't looking for someone new, he was looking for you. For someone that somehow made him remember you.

I'm wastin' my time when it was always you, always you

Chasin' the high, but it was always you, always you

Should have never let you go

Should have never let you go, oh, my baby

Go oh oh, oh oh oh

It was a waste of time, all those dates. He knew it would never work because he wouldn't even try to enjoy his time with whoever it was. He only wanted to be with only one person: you. But he couldn't. He messed up. He knew he did, but he would do anything to get you back.

His expectations were everytime higher than ever, but nothing and no one was compared to you.

I went from LAX to Heathrow

Walked through my door, but it felt nothing like home

'Cause you're not home

Waiting to wrap your legs around me

He always went to the common room with a hope that he could see you and just lay in your arms for hours like he used to do. Well, in fact he could see you, as you're in the same house and you like spending your time in the common room near the fireplace. But, well, now he couldn't just jump in your arms and lay there for as long as he could, just feeling your hands playing with his messy dark hair, hearing you whisper sweet things to him.

The common room didn't feel like a home to him lately, it felt just like a room, a normal common room. He missed you and he couldn't stand it anymore.

I'm wastin' my time when it was always you, always you

…

Should have never let you go, oh, my baby

Go oh oh, oh oh oh

He decided he couldn't live without you anymore, he needed you, he needed to apologize for being an idiot, and that was what he did.

Harry waited for everyone to leave to go to their dorms so he could talk to you properly. When you realised that it was only the two of you, you panicked and got your things together, already preparing yourself to leave the common room as well, but as soon as you got up, he got up too.

“(Y/n), wait!”

And you just stopped walking, not knowing what to do. You just nodded at him, silently telling him to keep talking. “Yes, lov- Harry?”

“I.. I wanted to apologize for being an idiot, you know” he started shyly, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I didn't mean to break up with you or to hurt you, I really don't know why I did it.”

You were surprised at his words, but all you did was say an almost inaudible "oh", not being able the look in his esmerald eyes.

“I'm sorry for the way I yelled at you that day. Seeing you hug Malfoy made me jealous and a part of me was scared that you would leave me for someone better than me, and when we started arguing later I don't know what I was bloody thinking and then I said those stupid things without thinking and I hurt you. I'm really sorry, love.” he said, standing in front of you and carefully lifting you head to make you look at him. “I miss you. So, so much.” he whispered.

Your (y/e/c) met his green ones, both with little tears in it. In fact, you really did miss Harry too, but he had no right to act like an idiot because you hugged your friend!

“Harry.” you spoke softly, seeing his eyes light up. “I really, really miss you, too. But, I can't hide the fact that your words hurt me. They made me really sad.” you watched as his smile fell, guilty on his face instead. He then nodded, taking your hands in his slowly.

“I know, sweetheart, and I'm really, really, really sorry, (Y/n). Please give me one more chance to make you happy again, I promise I won't mess up this time!” he said softly and you stayed quiet for a few seconds, the only sound in the room were the sound of you two breathing and the wood burning in the fireplace.

You then pulled him in tight hug, saying nothing. You could feel him smiling against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him.

“I'll give you a chance, Potter” you whispered next to his ear softly “But if you ever make me cry again I'll hex you.”

“I promise I won't!” he laughed at your comment, separating from you just a little bit and kissing you sweetly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[skepticalarrie]

Yeah I agree it’s best case scenario, but like ... Louis needs to come out first, without Harry. This isn’t a Louis and Harry thing. This is a Louis thing.

Harry has been a blank slate for a few years now. Coming out for Harry won’t be a shock. Louis though, he needs to be repositioned in the media before he comes out.

I do think they need to discredit Briana before doing anything. I personally would be shocked if they went the pat test route then Louis came out - because as soon as he comes out people are going to know the Briana thing was fake. They’re better off blowing it up. Syco is gone, Simon Cowell is over - Sony can come out of this clean, and everyone can point the finger at Syco. Even modest can come out unscathed - and they may, since Niall is still with them (is he? Did I make that up?)

Well, I always think about the coming out as a long long loooong process. A lot of things need to happen before we get to the coming out itself. And they’re doing things on their terms, they’ve being playing this game for too long now and they’re smart. Maybe that’s why is taking so long, but it is not happening until they are stunt free. So yes, I agree with you, Louis needs an image change and that’s what the rebranding is all about. Let’s hope his new team is great and they’re planning this strategy very carefully.

But I disagree on they having to come out separately at first. Specially Louis. Of course, it’s a valid possibility but I don’t think they will because there’s no reason to do so. It’s like an unnecessary step where they get more chances to loose fans because of rooted homophobia.

I think this is a Harry and Louis thing, it always was. I don’t think their coming out plan is much different than we were expecting to happen in 2014-2015. Maybe Harry will be less and less ambiguous about his sexuality to a point it gets obvious but I don’t think any of them will get to a point to give a statement like *I’m _____*. It’s too much explanation, it can invalidate all their stunts (and babygate included) and raise too many questions. They will just grow closer and closer to a point we’re going to see them as a couple, no explanations and no questions asked. People don’t need that. Either of them coming out as anything different than straight will shock people, no matter what. The PR strategy is there to make it look like a good thing and prevent them to get backlash. And I think their teams will work together for that to happen. Harry is not in a great position either, we just saw how the general queer public reacted to rumors about the possibility of him being on a queer movie. Harry is seen as straight even though he has being waving pride flags for years now because the thing that sticks with people the most is the last biggest rumor, and with Harry is being a womanizer. Once they’re out together with not too much explanation of the previous years and rumors, people will also slowly forget about ~Harry the womanizer~ and ~Louis in fact straight with a son~.

[alarriefantasy]

                                      Childhood Friends

Come As You Are by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 12k

Highschool Reunion AU where Harry is Niall's flatmate, Zayn and Liam are married, and Louis is just trying to find his way back home.

i love you most by stylinsoncity

Words: 12k

friends with benefits has always been enough for louis. until, of course, it isn't.

Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan by angelichl

Words: 13k

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

What do you mean he's coming? by MediaWhore

Words: 15k

When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson.

Harry is screwed.

everything comes back to you by amory

Words: 29k

Louis and Harry, best friends since before either of them can remember, broke up four years ago. Louis has achieved his dreams of becoming the next big thing while Harry has stayed back, dedicating himself to his studies. Both are content to forget what they had together, until a tragedy brings them right back into each other's lives.

He's been my Queen since we were 16 by larriebane

Words: 30k

Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with his neighbor’s son, Harry, as long as he could remember. The 16-year-old was small for his age and got bullied for being a weak alpha but Louis was there to help him. However, when the omega graduated from college and left for a university in London, he lost all contact with the Curly One. Five years later Louis finds himself back home, stalking a leggy hottie who looks like something from his wet dreams.

I Sail With You by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 35k

Against his wishes, Omega Prince Harry Styles is arranged to mate with someone he doesn’t love, much less knows. Though he pleaded to his parents incessantly, they not only refuse to comply but force him to depart on a ship days later. Harry prays for fate to step in, to change what’s to come, however, the answer he is given is not exactly in the form he had hoped.

Enter Will Tommo – deadliest pirate captain of all seven seas.

Runner on Third by kikikryslee 

Words: 39k

Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

Something in the way by momentofclarity

Words: 40k

Hope Floats 90’s AU. When Louis Tomlinson finds out his wife is cheating on him with his best friend, he packs up his life and takes his daughter back to his childhood hometown to start anew. The problem is—he’s not so sure he’s moving forwards rather than backwards. What he finds in the small Texas town is a whole lot of memories, people who think they still know him and a man who’s spent the past decade waiting for his return.

Canyon Moon by delsicle

Words: 40k

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

Faking It by TheCellarDoor

Words: 46k

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Never Let Me Go by loveisalaserquest17

Words: 55k

Harry and Louis have been friends forever, but they couldn't be more different. One night, with a little too much alcohol, they make a pact to marry in ten years if they're both still single.

Now, one month before the deadline, Louis is willing to do whatever it takes to avoid ending up with his best friend. But is he, really? | Loosely inspired by The 10 Year Plan

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart by mcpofife

Words: 86k

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

fearless by suspendrs

Words: 97k

Or, Harry left home without a word after high school, and a lot can change in ten years.

Heading for Limbo by kingsofeverything

Words: 100k

Childhood best friends who’ve fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis’ family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it’s been, it’s as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more.

When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them.

The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

You Drive Me Crazy (but it feels alright) by MrsStylinson

Words: 102k

Bridget Jones' Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

Love Will Tear Us Apart by lovelarry10

Words: 103k

Louis and Harry had it all - a career, friendship, and some of the best sex either of them had ever had.

But Harry ruins it all with one life-changing mistake ... and Louis is left to pay the price.

Own the Scars by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)

Words: 144k

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

Now In A Minute by thealmightyavocado

Words: 150k

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for Louis it actually was.

More than anything in the world, Louis Tomlinson dreams of growing up. Simply skipping over all of the awkward, embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life. Real life.

So when thirteen-year-old Louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected everything in his adult life to be picture perfect. And maybe it is. He has it all…or so it seems.

Except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, Harry Styles, is totally missing from the equation and Louis doesn’t understand why. He has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, Louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feels so empty.

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

[hldailyupdate]

Playtime With Harry Styles

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles cuts a cool figure in this black-white-and-red-all-over checked coat by JW Anderson.

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

There are references aplenty in this look by Harris Reed, which features a Victoriana crinoline, 1980s shoulders, and pants of zoot-suit proportions.

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[hlupdate]

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy,setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboardcharts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicksalbum cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness,is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[justalarryblog]

👑 Trust Me Tonight by @vintageumbroshirt​ / 28sunflowers (10k) | Explicit

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week. Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband. There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

👑 Royal Love by @anonymousorly (15k) | Explicit

AU: Harry is a prince, Louis is in a boyband. [1dkinkmeme]

Prompt: “When the band perform at the Royal Variety show and meet the royal family, Louis can’t get the Prince out of his head. When their paths cross again, Louis finds out Harry feels the same way and together they embark on a forbidden relationship.”

Part 1 of Royal Love

👑 now I’ll surrender up my heart and swap it for yours by @estrella30 (17k) | Mature

Louis can’t believe this. He just - he honestly, in all of the ideas he had in his head as to who Harry was, he never in a million years thought this was going to be the answer.

“You’re a prince?” Liam asks, for what is possibly the hundredth time in the past five minutes. It seems to be the only thing either of them can say. Harry’s sat primly in his chair, back a straight line and hands folded neatly on the kitchen table.

He nods once, and bows his head slightly. “Yes.”

“And you have to stay here,” Louis clarifies, “Because you were almost kidnapped?”

OR - a (kind of) Princess Protection Program AU

👑 I Can Change What You See by @devon, @uwufanficsuwu (23k) | Mature

Louis works in a small coffee shop, his life changes when Prince Harry walks in

Part 1 of I Can Change What You See

👑 Turn and face the strange orphan_account (26k) | Explicit

“Yeah okay, look, um. I’m in a relationship now, mum. And it’s pretty serious and I’m very much in love with him.” Louis’ mum’s face lights up at that.

“Well why didn’t you say?! Can we meet him?! Is he here today?”

“This is the catch. He’s kind of, well, he’s incredibly famous. So he couldn’t be at the ceremony but he’s in the car and we’re going to go back to his home for some lunch, is that okay?”

“Famous?! Louis, if this is some sort of joke…”

“It’s not, mum, I promise. Please can you just get in the car? He’s in this one, I want you three to meet him first, just don’t freak out, please,” he says, gesturing at Harry’s traditional black car.

Or the one where Harry is going to be King, Louis can’t handle it like he thinks, Zayn is finally happy, Liam’s a massive geek and Niall’s marrying a princess.

👑 Celebrity Discount by @LoadedGunn (27k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis fell for Prince Harry when he was ten and Harry was eight and peeked behind the Queen’s elegant gown for his first public appearance—a shy smile and a mess of curls. He fell for him when he caught Lottie putting up a magazine cover of Harry on her wall and all she had to say for herself was, “He’s such a good person, yeah?” and, yeah. He fell for him when Harry gracefully accepted his demotion. He fell for him when Harry came out and stayed out.

👑 Under your skin, Over the moon by @softfonds (35k) | Explicit

If there was one thing Harry didn’t expect the day before his uni graduation, it was for his long lost grandmother to show up and tell him he’s actually a prince that’s next in line to rule Genovia. He also didn’t expect to fall for his royal advisor, who happens to hate his guts. A Princess Diaries AU.

👑 You Take Me Over, You’re the Magic in My Veins by @supernope (36k) | Explicit

Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he turns to head toward his seat. He tucks a secretive smile into the palm of his hand while he slides into place beside his sister, his mother’s seat still empty as it awaits the Queen’s entrance. He knows he should be behaving himself a bit more, should be focusing his attention on Gemma, rather than her brother. He’s working on borrowed time, is expected to announce his engagement to the Princess within the next few weeks, but he can’t seem to help himself. Gemma is lovely, kind and witty and beautiful, but he has no interest in being married to her, had no interest in marriage before her arrival, period.

Teeth sunk into his bottom lip to disguise his smile, Louis risks a quick glance toward Gemma and Harry’s usual seats, finds Harry already seated and staring steadily back at him. His hair is a mess from Louis’ fingers and his cheeks are still flushed, and Louis’ heart gives a heavy, delighted thud. No, he thinks, he has no desire to be betrothed to Princess Gemma, but he finds he wouldn’t mind being married after all, if it was Prince Harry he was promised to, instead.

👑 You Took My Heart By Surprise by @LiveLaughLoveLarry (39k) | Teen And Up Audiences

There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

👑 The Fairy Ring by @thedeathchamber (46k) | Explicit

Harry has dreamed of a world outside the tiny village of Holmes Chapel for as long as he can remember… a world full of magic and adventure and true love.

It was nothing but a childhood dream, however, until an old family friend comes bearing word of a plot against Harry’s life and a very dangerous truth: Harry is the rightful heir to the crown and must embark on a perilous quest to reclaim his throne from the ruthless would-be King Simon.

But in the end Harry will find himself fighting for more than a crown, and on the verge of losing something much more precious than his sovereign power.

Because magic might be real, but life is not a fairy tale, and Harry is a prince up against a very big dragon.

Or: a medieval fantasy AU in which Harry is a prince in disguise and Louis is the king of the faeries.

👑 The Stars In Your Eyes Light Up The Sky by orphan_account (60k) | Explicit

Once again, Harry’s life was on a fast track into seriously uncharted territory. He had known from the moment he’d woken up on that horrible morning that he would have no choice other than to come out. Publicly.

Harry Styles, the first publicly gay Prince of England in British History.

That would be his luck.

Or,

The one where Harry is a prince forced out of the closet and Louis is a boybander forced in. When they meet, everything changes.

👑 Foolishly Completely Falling by @isthatyoularry (85k) | Mature

Louis is ¼ of the infamous boy band One Direction and has had a crush on the Prince of Wales for ages. Prince Harry is gay and out and when he spills on a tv show about finding a certain Louis fit, their paths cross and everything turns into a tumult of emotions and anxiety, and the complications when you just want to show the world who you love.

👑 Victorian Boy by @audreyhheart (101k) | Explicit

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis’ bed. But when secrets from Louis’ dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn’t the only one being hunted.

👑 The Galaxy’s Edge by @thecheshirepussycat (113k) | Explicit

In which Louis is a bounty hunter with a messed up past. Harry is a prince who just wants to prove himself. Niall and Zayn have too many things to figure out together. And Liam just wants to take care of his family.

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

Working title: Gays in Space

👑 Wear It Like A Crown by @zarah5 (141k) | Explicit

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis’ teenage fantasies.

✨You can also check my fic tags for more fics! ✨

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[beetlegoose01]

it’s all so simple (one shot)

a short fic about Charlie and Albus bonding.

~~~~~~

I don't want to get married. I don't want to have children. I'm happy the way I am. And if you love me, you'll be happy for me too.

Charlie had recited that mantra for as long as he could remember. He told himself in the mirror before he was ready to tell his family. He told his favorite dragon Topaz as he was petting her scaly muzzle.

“There isn’t anything wrong with me!” He bellowed into a puddle, staring at his reflection stubbornly. 

Topaz nudged him, tired of him venting to himself. He would laugh, run a hand through his messy red hair, and continue reminding himself that what he was feeling was normal. Wasn’t he?

His mum had persisted the most. Asking him every time he visited when was he ever going to find a nice young woman to settle down with. Eventually, he had told her firmly that the answer was never. He had fancied men for as long as he could remember. She, and the rest of the family had been accepting. He hadn't expected any less. But then the questions changed. When was he going to find a nice young man to marry and perhaps adopt children with.

At one point, he thought he had found someone. Alexander. A fellow dragon keeper. But he wanted things that Charlie couldn't give him. So it ended like that. Amicably, of course. No pressure involved, thank Merlin. But it still stung, like a burn from a dragon's breath. Except with less blood. And he recovered a lot faster and didn't need to cover it with a tattoo.

When he was a younger man, he had doubts about himself. When all of his siblings married and started to have kids of their own, the anxiety of being the odd one out definitely took a toll on him. Was there something wrong with him?

But as the years passed, those feelings subsided. He was happy where he was with his career. He loved his family. He loved his nieces and nephews and being the 'cool uncle' showing off his newest burns and scars-- usually overdramatizing the tale. And as time went on, finally his family stopped asking. That made his visits less stressful. He didn’t have to worry about them pestering him. 

The summer visits to the Burrow were always a rare treat. Sometimes he couldn't come for various work reasons. But when he did, he was always excited. One particular afternoon, all of the kids decided to play a game of Quidditch in the garden. The adults were responsible for making sure none of them were injured and taking care of the little ones. Charlie relaxed from the back, enjoying the sunshine and counting each child to make sure they were included. Lily, Vic, Hugo, Dom, and Roxanne were one team, while James, Rose, Freddie, Louis, Molly Jr and Teddy were another.

"Hey!" Hugo shouted. "They have one more teammate!" He pointed at James' team.

Charlie frowned. He thought there were enough kids for sure. Yes, Lucy was only four and couldn't play but Albus...

"Come on, Al, you're on the blue team." James groaned, already frustrated from the heat and his little brother.

"I don't want to be on the blue team!' Albus said stubbornly. "I don't wanna be on any team. I hate Quidditch."

Several of the other children looked outraged. No Weasley hated Quidditch. It was in their blood.

"Don't be silly, Albus." Victoire said, looking at the younger boy kindly. "You don't mean that. Come on, we can be Beaters together." She offered him the bat, which he scowled and huffed away from.

"No, I don't want to." Albus shook his head furiously.

"He only hates it because he's bad at it." James mumbled under his breath.

"James!" Ginny snapped.

Albus, filled with rage, tossed the bat aside as he stormed away. It snapped in half from the impact. Lily and Hugo gasped in horror.

"Albus Severus, you're too old to be breaking things!" Harry rubbed his nose tiredly. "Come back here this instant!"

"I'll get him," Charlie offered, nodding at Ginny. "Don't worry Gin."

"Thanks Char." Ginny murmured.

Luckily it wasn't too hard to find a ten year old who seemed to think hiding behind a row of bushes and gnomes was a good hiding place. His heart dropped when he heard tiny sobs from behind the bush.

"Hey bud," Charlie awkwardly brushed aside the prickly bushes and sat beside the boy, who's eyes were puffy and red. He made sure his voice was quiet, approachable. Last thing he wanted was to be as stoic and apathetic as Percy.

"Go away. I don't want to play Quidditch." Albus said shakily. He turned to face Charlie, eyes shining with tears. He seemed to hesitate when he saw his favorite uncle.

"You don't have to, that's not why I'm here." Charlie assured him. "Just wanted to have a chat. Everything okay?"

Albus sniffed, shaking his head.

"Sorry, dumb question. Do you wanna talk about it?"

Albus was an open book, especially to Charlie, who had grown fonder and protective of the little Potter. He wasn't like his siblings or cousins. He was quiet, exceptionally bright but very timid.

"I'm not like them," He whispered, biting his lip. "I'm bad at everything."

Charlie snorted. "Really? The boy who nursed a wounded bowtruckle back to health at age eight is 'bad at everything'? Sorry if I find that hard to believe."

"But I'm not good at Quidditch."

"Quidditch isn't everything." Charlie said, summoning a handkerchief, which Al took gratefully.

"Still, I'm different." Albus said glumly. "They think I'm weird."

"Yes, you are. And that's what makes you so wonderful." Albus didn't look convinced, so he continued. "You know, you're a lot like me."

Al scoffed. "I don't play Quidditch though. You're brilliant, I've seen you play and I know you were Gryffindor captain. Mum told me."

Charlie nudged him softly. "I'm touched, mate. But no, what I mean is I was quiet too. I loved the outdoors, never really fit in with other kids my age. And that's okay."

"But you're so...cool."

"You are too! Well, maybe one day you'll be as cool as me. Though, don't aim for the impossible. Those aren't mutually exclusive."

Albus laughed lightly, which Charlie considered a win. But there was something in his eye that didn't seem right.

"Alright, Al?"

Albus fiddled with pieces of grass uncomfortably. He looked desperate to say something, but whatever was troubling him held him back.

"Is that why you never married?" He asked finally. Then he turned pink, mortified at how blunt that sounded. "I mean- not like you - I'm sorry I didn't mean to be rude."

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. "S' alright, I'm not offended. To answer your question, er, no."

"I realize how horrible that sounded the second it came out." Albus said, looking down. "I'm really sorry."

"The simple answer is, despite my ruggedly handsome good looks and my charming personality, I chose not to marry." He explained, grinning. "I just didn't want to. I've dated several blokes-"

"Blokes?" Albus' eyes lit up, a moment that was so quick, anyone who wasn't Charles Weasley could have missed it.

"Heh, you bet." He ruffled Al's curls. "I dated, and I found out on my own I'm happy where I am. Just like you aren't forced to play Quidditch, I'm not forced to get married. Of course those two are completely different things but my point still stands. I love my family, my friends and career."

"And...that's okay?"

"Sure is. Why wouldn't it be?"

Albus seems satisfied with that answer. "I might not marry either." He said firmly.

"Eh?"

"When you get married, you become boring." Al explained as if it was obvious. "You're cool, and you have the best job on the planet. So...I think I'll be like you and stay single."

"Well, you're only ten-"

"I might date though." He said hastily. "Pretty girls, maybe. But I don't think I'm ready for that sort of commitment." He folded his hands, surprisingly mature.

"Again, you're only ten."

Albus shrugged, grinning cheekily. "Just kidding."

Charlie couldn't help but laugh. "We'll see. Don't worry too much though. Really you should wait until you know for sure. So...do you wanna play something? Just the two of us."

"Not Quidditch?"

"Nope. Whatever you want to play."

"Wizard Chess!" He looked up eagerly. "Please?"

Charlie nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You're on."

And the remainder of the evening, Uncle and nephew played chess until their hearts were content.

[1ddotdhq]

◟̽◞̽ Mon 23 Nov ‘20🍉

Happy Monday, everyone! Harry won the (fan voted) Favorite Pop/Rock Album at the AMAs last night - AMAzing! He was not there to pick up the award (presumably because he’s filming DWD), but don’t worry, fans made sure to celebrate him anyways: PROUD OF HARRY was trending worldwide when his win was announced. HSHQ tweeted their obligatory bullet point acknowledgement that, uh, it had happened, and then went back to doing whatever it is they do when Harry is off being an actor (though presumably, they’re getting ready for tomorrow’s Grammy Nomination announcements, best of luck!). Vogue also called Harry “the most influential man in fashion in 2020”, and while I agree, the fact that they didn’t name the article ‘Harry’s got Style(s)’ is CRIMINAL! Talk about a missed opportunity! 

Louis(‘s team) is active today: they have changed the Spotify background for all of the songs on Walls! It’s now a glitching black xx smiley face with golden lights glowing in the background - a lot like what the stage of Walls on tour looked like! I’ve seen some interesting takes today, ranging from ‘what message is it this time’ to ‘does it symbolize the end of the Walls era’. Maybe, but what it DEFINITELY is, is an indication that there is movement behind the scenes for Louis’ plans - I have MISSED him so this is!!! Exciting! Niall didn't have much to say about the AMAs either, but he wasn't mad at not being asked to play-- he says “gotta have a current song. I don't have anything out to perform.” He was much more excited about what looks to be his golf management company's foray into general sports marketing (“proud of my team at Modest Sport”) and new partnership with another group (Kinetica). Liam has a Naughty List Tik Tok challenge out- and he wants you to tag him and Dixie if you partake. Dixie meanwhile is embroiled in tik tok drama but thank goodness we have no reason to report on that, Liam please stay out of it and keep it that way! And, in a beautiful way to end the day, Martyre posted another picture of Zayn!! It’s a close up of his hands in an Instagram story: he’s wearing two rings on his left hand, both Martyre brand. His hand tattoos are fully on display and, right there in the background, you can see his jawline, his chin, and his left ear (he’s wearing an earring!). Look, if you think I’m creepy for staring at this picture for way too long you have to understand how starved for Zayn content we are - especially after he teased us with those beautiful cover sessions!

And speaking of missed opportunities, the model from the WS video who had the chance to befriend Harry and blew it in every possible way (the one who previously released a screenshot of her DM asking Harry who Golden was about) is back and more embarrassing than ever! She posted a screen recording of all the convos she’s ever had with Harry (there aren’t many, and they’re definitely almost all one sided) because she was “tired of fans saying she was lying” re: the Golden DMs. She just keeps messaging him month after month as he repeatedly replies politely yet briefly, finally displaying a flicker of interest when she out of the blue invites him to a threesome with her and her boyfriend. Harry liked the message, and she said, “is that a yes?” “It’s not no”, he says, and then “boyfriend?” (HAHAHA) but the subject gets dropped (though not before she awkwardly announces that the boyfriend looks like Harry, just what H is looking for I'm sure). Fans, of course, are heavily debating whether or not this is real: is it possible she faked it, even though it's a screen record video, yes, that's very much something you can do, and you can unsend instagram messages (but the mind boggles at the idea that she might have deleted stuff but left in the things she did, which are cringey as hell and include her ex's name and phone number- if the suggestion is that HARRY deleted incriminating follow ups but left what he did, well that just doesn't make sense). If you look at the whole thing it seems pretty real to me, but in no way like Harry had the slightest actual interest in having a threesome with her, or a twosome, or going swimming with her, or in fact anything at all but discouraging her without actually ghosting her (as evidenced by the multiple times he left her on read, including when she told him she’d broken up with her boyfriend – OUCH!) with a brief detour to have some fun with the whole awkward threesome proposal. Popular theories about the whole thing include: this is the beginning of a stunt gf (definitely not but LMAO CAN YOU IMAGINE that would be the worst story EVER), this is a clever segue into seeding bisexual Harry in the service of an eventual come out (which involves accepting this whole uncomfortable mess as a set up like-- really? You think this is what they'd want that to look like?), or this is to make Harry look straight after the Vogue thing (yall have a WEIRD idea of what looks straight but now that you mention it this would be HSHQ...) Fans didn’t really love the fact that she posted a conversation between herself and H, and yeah, it’s a betrayal of trust to be publicly posting private convos- one that Harry surely expects by now given how often it happens but that doesn't mean it isn't shitty if this is real (and if it isn't why on earth would she not go all the way and fake that he had a threesome with her rather than blowing her off?). Overall I stand by what we said about her the other day, GIRL WYD??