#harry styles blurb france

[the-man-in-the-suit-official]

Scott Street.

Summary: You’ve risen to new found stardom, but an old flame from the past insists on winning you back. A continuation of You’ve Become My Ceiling.

A/N: Genuinely sorry for the infrequent posting! I’ll get around soon. Formatting was also getting on my nerves.

Taglist: @reveriehs @belovedcherry

Reader Pronouns: Any

Length: Long? 5,667 Words.

Celebrities: Harry E. Styles

TW: Angst, Cheating

Song(s) To Listen To:

Your hands gripped the slick phone, eyebrows furrowed and heart feeling frozen and still. The phone was attempting to tell you that you’d missed a call, but your eyes were out of focus as you gathered your thoughts.

It was Harry.

Part of you wished it to be a dream, but the other part was curious, yet cautious. Your life had been a little bland the past few years, though you’d never admit it, you missed the adventures and midnight memories.You missed your best friend. That’s who you were still grieving, not the cheating liar who broke your heart over six times.

It had been a week and you’d failed to notice the call, only now discovering it while cleaning out your phone. There was a voicemail, but your hands were far too shaky to play it. You gave yourself a moment to calm down and played it slowly.

A small chuckle came from the recording, “Heh. Um, hey, (Y/N). I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but…You know I’m proud of you. And also…I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

His voice broke a little, “I know how much pain I caused now. I was stupid and young and it’s not an excuse, but I’m just really sorry. I wish I could do it all back again. I still can’t find the answer to why I did the things I did to you, either. You were the one thing that had loved me since before I was famous. I was an idiot to have let that go.”

There was sniffing on the other end, “You’re such a good person. And I…I really hollowed you out. I never even gave you a true apology. I miss my best friend. I became someone I didn’t know or want - someone I’d be repulsed by now. Someone I’d never want around you. I’m sorry.”

Harry cleared his throat, “But I’m proud of you, is all. You left and did greater things for yourself.”

It was silent for a moment again, “I never knew you could sing so beautifully. I’d like to hear it in person, if I could. You took a big part of me when you left, (Y/N). I still…I still feel the same way. Always have. But, um…Get back to me when you can- I mean, if you want. Alright. Bye.”

Taking a deep breath, you waited until the longing finally brushed itself off of you and was replaced by neutrality. The old memories resurfaced. Finding Harry in bed with another. On a date with someone you’d seen with him before.

You put your phone down and walked away, trying to collect yourself.

-

As for Harry, four and a half years changed him just as they did then. When you left, the guilt destroyed a piece of his heart, and he made his best attempt to be what he couldn’t be for you. He hadn’t dated since then, hadn’t felt he was worthy enough, really. He’d dedicated the entirety of Harry Styles - his debut album - to you, though he was sure you had no idea. Even now, his journal was filled to the brim with songs about you, most prevalent, some variation of a song he’s called, “Falling.” It was a heavy song, but the lyrics stuck with him.

They told the story of his departure from you, cheating and all, though the public wasn’t aware that it even happened.

His apartment smelt of lavender and poppies, even as he made his breakfast and did their daily duties. His album had released about a year ago, maybe a little less, and he hit stardom like he had never expected it. Taking a break from touring for even a week was well worth it. He loved his fans, sure, but it was draining to be a musician. Nonetheless, he was grateful.

Harry didn’t even expect you to make a call back. He just wanted to say sorry, truly, from the bottom of his heart, because he was different then. Fame changes you. And he should have never let that happen to him.

He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness.

So it was a surprise to him when a message appeared on his phone two months after the initial voicemail.

Y/N: Hey, Haz.

-

Jack was a tall man who was more legs than anything. He was stern, always looked at you with a taut expression, and would put you in your place, but oh, how he was completely soft for you. You’d met through his grandparents, who he took care of in his nice, spacious house. He and his grandparents were your neighbors, but you’d met his grandparents at a park years prior, engaging in small chat very often.

They’d loved Harry, though you were both sure they had positively no idea who he was aside from your boyfriend. Lily, the woman, would never hesitate to pinch his cheeks and comment on how amazing the two of you looked. You’d both expressed hope in wanting to be like them, growing old together, but here you were without your other half.

After your breakup, you’d rented a cozy apartment right next to Jack and his family’s house (though it was unbeknownst to you), and found that the park was relatively close to it. But as you walked on the trail, you came to find that everything seemed to have lost its shine. No longer did the water glisten so bright, or did the roses avoid withering like they simply couldn’t die, but everything was so undeniably…normal. Harry had shaken your life, only to disappear later, leaving you back in something that should have been comfortable, but was instead foreign. Normalcy was foreign.

“Oh, my dear!” The familiar voice, loaded with a beautiful French accent, slipped its way into your ears, and you tore your eyes away from the pond, behind you and finding the couple, holding something up to you, “You’ve dropped this.”

Lily brought the small item to you, showing you that in her gloved hands lay a necklace, a mother of pearl inside the locket. Harry had gifted it to you for your one year anniversary.

You furrowed your brows at the memory before she noticed it.

“Where is the handsome boy?” She tried to get her point across, even with the language barrier, “The one with the curly head? Tall? Le Britannique ?”

You felt the winter air nip at you more than it already had in your light jacket, “No, no, he is not here.”

She tilted her head in confusion, her husband watching over her, knowing even less English than she did. Harry had always been the translator for you, so speaking without him made it frustratingly harder.

“He has been gone for quite some time.”

You looked down, and in this, they seemed to both understand you. Paulie, her husband, took his coat off, placing it over your shoulders. The weight seemed comforting now.

“Aw, mon chou, come have a cup of tea with us,” Lily held your shoulders, slipping the necklace into your hands.

Despite your protest, you found yourself in their lovely home, surprised to see that they were a direct neighbor, “Jack, nous avons amené un chien errant !”

Lily smiled back at you before turning back and looking down at someone in the next room. You entered it, never really breaking away from her vibrant blue eyes, before you saw what she was looking at. Or rather, who. He was young, maybe just a bit older than you, and had eyes more alluring than hers. He had a slim figure and face, with a longer nose that matched, and tousled, short brown hair. His slender fingers were placed on the piano keys as he sat. He was breathtakingly handsome, really, and despite you not finding any sort of attraction in him, seeing as you just met, there was no doubt about his conventional attractiveness.

“Bonjour ?” He’d asked, his right eye squinting as if he were trying to scan every detail about you.

His expression softened into a smile shortly after, his eyes half-lidded when he got no response, “Hi. I see you’ve met my grandparents. Eager, aren’t they?”

You smiled back, chuckling, “You could say that.”

And it all started there. You’d started to take piano and French lessons from Jack, who after hearing about your still unnamed ex, wanted to help the best he could. You’d taken up piano for your career, and French, well, simply to prove to yourself that you really didn’t need Harry. Not for French, and not for life.

You and Jack had been good friends for a year now, knowing each other for about three before you’d really connected, so it felt right to turn to him and spill your gossip all over his fancy blue canopy bed during a hangout.

“Wait…” He started, surprised and clutching his elbows, arms crossed, “Your ex is Harry Styles?!”

You stuffed your face into a pillow, “That’s what you take away, Jack?! Everyone knows that!”

“Well, I didn’t! You know I can’t handle all the social media stuff, I avoid it like the plague!” Defensively and rather playfully, he rested a hand on his chest. He was wearing a brown and green sweater vest with brown dress pants and a white shirt, a nice green bowtie to tie his look together for his last day shadowing a French professor.

“The point is,” You giggled at the older man who seemed more like a best friend to you now, “I’m really not sure what to do here. He sounds so sincere, and maybe I fell out of love with the person he became a long time ago, but if he’s the same person I grew up with…Well…”

“No way. You can’t go back,” He paced, a hand on his chin, a habit of his you’d always loved.

You whined, “But can’t I? If I just want to rekindle the friendship we had before-“

“What are you going to do when you find him in bed with someone else again?”

Your heart stopped. He was right, of course.

“I’ll be respectful,” You responded sternly, “He isn’t mine.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Well, I can’t change your mind. I know you. Just be careful. It could be good for you, who knows? I just…don’t want you to get hurt again, (Y/N).”

Smiling with excitement, you thanked him countless times for listening to you and your rambles. You left shortly thereafter, and his smile fell as soon as the door shut behind you.

It was then you texted Harry, just a simple text, though it took you hours to finally hit the send button. He responded not a minute later, and you jumped at the sound.

HAZ: (Y/N), hi.

The name you never bothered to change in your contacts.

The two of you texted on and off casually, before deciding that maybe it would be better to catch up in a coffee shop. You were nervous, admittedly, but nonetheless stunned when you were escorted to your private booth at the Beachwood Café.

All you wore was a jumper and jeans, nothing too fancy, but you couldn’t help trying to style your hair in a way he would like.

He had been the first to arrive, you’d seen him in the window, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. God, did he look good as ever. His hair had grown out a bit more than the last time you saw him, and he’d dressed in clothes more personal to him, a shirt with small puppies printed on it under a knitted cardigan, baggy jeans and rings. He was definitely richer than the last you saw him, but the thing was, he was still your Haz, that much was noticeable.

The waiter led you to your table and you gently sat your bag down on the floor, sitting across from him. He’d been waiting for you, not even ordering yet.

“You look amazing,” He spoke, seemingly subconsciously.

“You’re not so bad yourself, H.”

And it was true. He looked cleaner, happier. Like he was taking care of himself. Everything was going well, and to be honest, it made you beyond happy. It was as if you were friends again, and nothing bad ever happened. Eventually, the topic reached Gemma somehow.

“So, I heard Gemma finally graduated,” You continued, “That’s wonderful! I always knew she could do it. She’s rather smart.”

“She’s great! She’s married now, you know. He’s wonderful, just feels a bit…weird. That she has someone now and I don’t.”

“Recent breakup?” You’d asked, a genuine question.

“No,” He chuckled, “Not at all. I worked on myself. Haven’t dated since you.”

A small gust of wind came through the window beside you, and you blamed the shivers on that. There was a gentle pause, but you shook your head and continued, “Oh, I see.”

There was obviously still a spark there, you’d noticed. Your heart still beat wildly to the tune of his.

“But, erm,” You continued, and he cleared his throat, “That makes me feel old.”

He scoffed playfully, his arms crossed, “What does that make me, then?”

You giggled. The two of you weren’t so far off, really. Just a couple of months, but he always managed to mention it.

“An old man,” You joked, and even the humor was still there.

His chuckle sent butterflies throughout your stomach.

“So, how’s the band?” You tilted your head.

You hadn’t really noticed that breaking things off with him would essentially alienate them, too.

“Well, Mitch and Sarah are getting married,” You did a bit of a double take.

“Wow, I mean, I knew it was going to happen, I just had no idea.

“A lot changes in our lives,” He spoke smoothly as the waiter came.

“Hey guys, my name is Carson, I’ll be your server this morning! What can I get for you?” He was younger, bright-eyed.

“I’ll just have an Americano and the strawberry crepes,” Harry didn’t even have to look at his menu, and yet you were scrambling to know what you wanted before he got to you.

“Alright,” The waiter wrote it down before turning back to you, “And for the spouse?”

Your face flushed red, “Oh, no, I’m not!”

Harry only chuckled and watched in amusement as the waiter became embarrassed, too.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry, then what can I get for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you giggled once more.

“Hazelnut hot latte and almond croissant, please, Carson.”

He nodded and left soon after.

“I listened to your songs, by the way,” Harry began slowly, “How’s that?”

“Well, one thing they don’t prepare you for as a strictly-solo show is how heavy the equipment is, like the drums? Jeez, don’t get me started.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “You’ve always took on way more than you could carry.”

“Yeah, well, suppose that’s me,” A smile found its way to your face, “But being alone is good. I needed that.”

He nodded again, “Yeah, I think I did, too.”

There was the beginning of a pause, but you still refused to let it linger, “I live on Scott Street now.”

“Oh, by the rose park?” He perked up, “I love that place.”

“I know,” You said bashfully, “Harry, our first date was there.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d remember,” He smiled back.

“But how could I forget?”

It had been magical, with swans skimming the water, almost as in love as you and Harry were. Had been. Are.

“Oh, but remember that old French couple we ran into? I know it’s quite random, but I ran into them again while I was having a bad day. They noticed we weren’t together anymore, and next thing I knew, I was at their house drinking a cup of tea. They’re quite nice. Their grandson, he lives with them, showed me a bit of piano.”

He remembered it well, you had said that you wanted the two of you to last even longer than they, and you had even hoped they’d be your spitting metaphorical image in decades.

“Anyway, I’m learning French now, I guess. And I found out we’re neighbors, isn’t that weird?” Carson set everything down on your table as you talked.

“Anything else for now?”

“No, thank you,” Harry didn’t even look up at him, listening intently. He didn’t even notice when Carson had left.

“So, now I take piano lessons on Fridays, and French lessons on Tuesday and Thursday. But his grandparents have been acting a bit odd - think they want me to stick around for more than just lessons,” You chuckled and sipped your latte.

You could’ve sworn Harry’s eye twitched, but you dismissed it, “That’s…great. I’m glad. You always wanted to learn French.”

“Right? You should come with sometime, you’d like him,” You hadn’t even noticed you were now arranging a second hangout. But he did. He always noticed.

“I’d love to,” It was oddly fast.

“Well, he’s invited me to a dinner party for his work - he’s a French professor. But he’s only been out of college a couple of months. Got his PhD. He’s nice, I think you’d like him!”

You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, “But if you’re busy that’s totally fine! I just don’t wanna stick out like a sore thumb, is all. And it was always more fun when we stuck out together.”

He blushed, and in that moment, he would have done anything in the world you’d ask of him.

“Consider my plans all clear that day, alright?” He held your hands, “It's about time we did something as friends again.”

You nodded with a smile, “Okay, you’re right.”

You two split ways shortly after, Harry having insisted on paying the bill. He was happy to be talking to you, sure, but there was still a sinking feeling he felt when you were mentioned.

Shame.

You had piano lessons that night, and you wore the same outfit, feeling exhausted just from the interaction. Jack had greeted you happily.

“Mon cherie! (Y/N), come in!” He stepped aside, “Nana and Papa are out, so it’s just us today.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Jack reached for the cupboard, “Nana just got this new wine, and I think it’s quite lovely.”

“Sure!” You agreed, sitting at their small dining table, “Oh, Jack, I hope you don’t mind! I invited a friend of mine to come to the meeting with me. Both of us have always been interested in French, so I figured it would be perfect!”

Jack, in all truthfulness, assumed it would be a woman, and thus, agreed.

“Not a problem, cherie,” He handed you a glass, full with dark red liquid, and he drank from his cup slowly.

You watched him aimlessly, his Adam’s Apple defined, bobbing up and down. Like he hadn’t had anything to drink all day. Jack was like that, he’d forget to eat, sleep, drink. He was always so busy with work. You admired him for it.

“You know, you should remember to drink more often. Have you eaten at all today?” Tilting your head, he shook his and set his cup down.

“How could you tell?”

You chuckled and stood up, holding one of his cheeks in your hands, examining his lips, “You drink way too desperately.”

He was a little stunned, to say the least, and gripped the counter, his stomach in knots.

“But,” You wiped his upper lip with your thumb, ridding the excess wine off before moving to the stove, “I’ll make you something. I owe you after all these free lessons, anyways.”

He slumped, disappointed, but continued onward, “I could never ask that of you, but…that sounds very nice.”

“Then consider it done, Cherie.” You mimicked him, getting to work.

Afterward, your lessons continued as normal, and you were actually getting pretty far along.

-

“So, (Y/N),” Jack finally looked up from his paperwork, having left you with some French worksheets, “Nana and Papa wanted me to invite you to The French Riviera with us. Figured it would be a good learning experience. I agree, what do you think?”

You thought hard before answering the question on the worksheet and looking back up at him, shrugging, “Sure! That sounds lovely. When?”

“Well, they plan to order the tickets this weekend. We were just waiting on your oh-so-busy schedule,” He smiled, his dimples showing rather lovely.

“Oh, I can do it anytime! The glory of being a musician with no tour dates. Your meeting is in a month, yes?” You finished your worksheet and turned to him.

He nodded, causing a single strand of hair to fall in his eyes, “Oui, mais la réunion sera courte .”

You exhaled a chuckle at his quiz, “Okay, then how about next weekend?”

“You’re getting good, Chérie,” It gave you a proud smile.

“Then it’s settled. Send me the details,” You checked your clock, “Jeez, it’s already 8PM. I was supposed to write another song for the debut album.”

“Well, feel free to use me as a muse,” He smiled again, and it was a joke, but something struck you quite suddenly.

He had been there for you for years, and the thought of thanking him never even crossed your damned mind, distracted by your old lover. As you entered your house, you walked straight to your desk, completely in a trance as you thought about him. He was amazing, someone everyone should have in their lives, so how come you’d never noticed?

Daydreamer.

With eyes that make you melt,

He lends his coat for shelter,

Plus he’s there for you when he shouldn’t be,

Waits for you, then sees you through.

You smiled softly, hearing a guitar strum in your head, and suddenly your heart felt warmer than it originally had. The night really hits you, and next thing you know, you’ve got a demo at 2.56 AM.

You smiled wide now, your heart running rampant over a daydreamy thought you had of your neighbor. It’s not like you actually feel this way about him, but imagining yourself in something so plausible seems lighthearted and warm. Reaching for your phone, you bite your lip, wanting another opinion on the song, but not knowing if your relationship with Harry has evolved enough yet. It’s soon, but he still feels like your closest friend. You decide to go through with it anyway and text him.

ME: Haz! Want to hear something new I’ve just come up with over the course of seven straight hours?

It was actually very, very surprising when he responded a few minutes later.

HAZ: Yeah! FaceTime?

You smiled wide, feeling your heart skip a beat before agreeing. His phone call came in shortly after, and you were met with a very groggy Harry, his hair messy and in his face.

“Harry,” You looked at him suspiciously, “Why are you even up this late?”

He grew rather embarrassed, you could tell by the way he hid his face from the camera subtly, “Never bothered to change the ringtone you set.”

You could have died of embarrassment right then and there. The old ringtone you chose for your beloved boyfriend at the time, mind you, a very, very famous celebrity, was, in fact, a loud rooster. How much more embarrassing could you get? Laughing instead, you smiled wide. Things were going back to your normal, after all.

“Anyways, you let me know if this is good, okay? And be brutally honest.” Harry raised a brow in suspicion but quickly settled down as you began to play the guitar, strumming it gently.

“Daydreamer,” You began, and he felt his body go cold, in shock and in amazement. Hearing it semi-live, and completely personal was extremely different than the borderline music stalking of your singles he’d done recently.

“Sittin’ on the sea, soaking up the sun,” You changed the hit a higher note at, “He is a real lover, of making up the past and feelin’ up his girl like he’s never felt her figure before.”

You strummed gently for a few seconds, tying the calmness of the song together, “A jaw dropper, looks good when he walks, is the subject of their talk. He would be hard to chase, but to catch and he could change the world with his hands behind his back, oh.”

You strummed on some more, too nervous to look Harry in the eyes, despite him on the screen, and with a higher voice, began to sing more, “You can find him sittin’ on your doorstep, waiting for a surprise. And he will feel like he’s been there for hours, and you can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

This verse had been completely different, with you dragging on words and indulging in the beautiful memory, “Daydreamer, with eyes that make you melt, he lends his cost for shelter, Plus he’s there for you when he shouldn’t be, waits for you, then sees you through.”

Harry felt completely inferior in your presence, your voice sounding like he’d never heard it before. Instead of low and emotional, it was high and nostalgic, and for a moment, the thought that the song was about him struck him. Higher, you continued, “There’s no way I could describe him. What I’ve said is just what I’m hoping for, but I will find him, sittin’ on my doorstep waiting for a surprise. And he will feel like he’s been there for hours, and I can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

You slowed the guitar down, “And I can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

There was a moment of silence as you set the guitar off the bed, your face completely red after realizing the complete feeling of the song.

“(Y/N)…” Harry began, obviously now waking up completely, “That was amazing.”

“You mean it? It’s not too cheesy?”

He shook his head fast, “No. I don’t even know who it’s about, but you’ve got me falling in love with him, too.”

You smiled softly, happy to hear that he enjoyed it, “You sure? I don’t want it to sound creepy if I tell someone it’s for him. I just wanted to write something about someone who’s helped me so much.”

Continuing on, you fiddled with your sleeve, “Jack’s just so great.”

His heart dropped, and he furrowed his brows in jealousy, his stomach in knots as the idea of a love song for someone else hit him.

“He’ll love it,” He responded, not really thinking much as he did so, spaced out.

“Oh, just so you know, I’m going to France soon! Jack’s grandparents invited me, and I think it would be good to learn.”

Harry nodded, biting his lip as he snapped back into it, “You’re right. Be safe, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me! I’ll be completely safe. It’s you I’m worried about, Haz. You’re quite the klutz.”

He chuckled, and from there, the conversation continued. It was like nothing had changed from your old years, and the night was talked away by two silly teenagers in love. When you woke up, a smile found itself on your face as you quickly noticed Harry’s sleeping face displayed on the camera. You’d fallen asleep before him, but he’d stayed.

His eyes were closed, revealing his long eyelashes. Were they always that curled? His lips parted for a moment and he heaved a great sigh, mumbling something before brushing hair out of his face. He was ethereal.

-

The trip came sooner than you’d noticed, and you didn’t want Daydreamer to be the last single released. It was so out of place from the rest of the album, but if you didn’t use it, then you wouldn’t have another single. There was one song you’d half-written, but it felt too personal, and besides, you’d already released a song about Harry. It felt like overkill. But it also just felt right, as a final goodbye to the situation.

Jack looked down at you as you sat with your guitar, “So, you want me to preview the song, yeah? Then we can go to France?”

He was teasing you, wanting to seem agitated, but you’d never heard him so much as raise his voice or seen him even furrow his eyebrows with a mean stare.

“Yes,” You chuckled, “I just don’t know if this song is too much. I had breakfast with Harry the other day and it came to my mind a week or so later.”

“Go on, then,” He sat down across from you, “I’m sure I’ll love it either way.”

But in his heart, he hated the fact that he was listening to a song you wrote about another man.

“Okay,” You took a deep breath, strumming.

“Walkin’ Scott Street feelin’ like a stranger, with an open heart, open container. I got a stack of mail and a tall can. It’s a shower beer, it’s a payment plan,” You recalled the first few weeks of moving out and how harsh it was. All you wanted was to be happy with him, but instead there were constant reminders that he was no longer there. Stacked up bills and inquiries about single-household payments, and the liquor which he hardly ever let you drink in fear you’d succumb to its temptation.

“There’s helicopters over my head every night when I go to bed. Spending money and I earned it, when I’m lonely, that’s when I’ll burn it,” You had complete control over yourself, sure, but at what cost? As you strummed, you felt tears pricking your eyes.

“Do you feel ashamed,” Singing clearly, it surprised Jack, who was already stunned silent, “When you hear my name?”

“I asked you, ‘How is your sister? I heard she got her degree.’” You detailed a conversation.

“And I said, ‘That makes me feel old.’

You said, ‘What does that make me?’

You asked me, ‘How is playing drums?

I said, ‘It's too much shit to carry. And what about the band?’

You said, ‘They’re all getting married.’”

You continued on, “Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?”

You began strumming a tune for a long time, tapping your foot to the sound of the beat. Maybe you went a little overboard, but it didn’t matter. You could tell Jack was glued to you.

“Anyway, don’t be a stranger,” More strumming, “Anyway, don’t be a stranger.”

And on a quieter note, you continued to the final line, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, you know you’re talented, don’t you?” Was all your friend managed the day as you set the hollow instrument down, completely taken away.

“Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean it!” He didn’t hesitate as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Jack,” You smiled softly, “And you should be pleased to know that I’ve written something dedicated to you, too.”

His heart was almost definitely leaping, “You did? Can I hear it?”

“Mmm, maybe in France,” You teased.

-

You found France to be quite lovely, filled with beautifully blue clear water, and lovely locals that had a tendency to mistake you and Jack as a couple. Despite the mishaps, you’d gone to see various things. The art galleries, cafés, bars and lounges, they were all magical, and today you’d be seeing the ocean for the first time ever.

Harry was not so amused by the photos you’d sent him. He was glad you were having fun, yes, but he hated that it wasn’t with him. He was the one who promised you he’d take you to see the ocean, and he was the one who was supposed to take you to see it for the first time. Not some idiot with a PhD who didn’t know half of the things he knew about you. He was angry, not at you or Jack, but with himself. It hurt so much to see you with another, and you weren’t even his. How must you have felt during your relationship with him?

And now, he was drinking whiskey in his bedroom, strumming notes mindlessly. His phone rang once, but he didn’t really notice it, the volume being off. That was until he felt he was finished with his guitar and set it to the side of his bed, finding that he’d dropped his phone. The screen showed brightly that he had missed a call from you, and soon later, after he’d turned his sound on, the rooster notification sounded throughout the room. He chuckled and turned it down, already slightly tipsy before he began to play the voicemail on speaker.

It was you, practicing your French.

“Coucou! Tu dors ? Oh, j'suis désolée…(Hey! Are you asleep? Oh, I’m sorry…)” You sounded lovely in French, like the language was made for you.

“Bah (Well…),” You began but decided to take it back, “Non... Nan, c'est pas important… (No, it’s not important.)”

“Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on— (Yes, we went to the beach and now we—)” You were telling him about your day, just as you had been for the past few days as you kept in touch. He was smiling as he heard you, but then he picked up on a voice in the back, assuming it was your friend.

He heard something about the dinner, but then the words hit him. Mon cherie. My dear. My darling. My love. Had something already happened?

“Parfait ! (Perfect!)” You answered Jack, “Allez ! (Let’s go!)”

The voicemail ended abruptly, leaving him cold, staring at the wall in his bedroom, utterly dumbfounded. His strongest coping mechanism was always songwriting, and maybe that was a habit you’d picked up, but he sighed and pulled his laptop onto his lap.

Mon cherie. Cherry.

He’d use your voicemail in it, he was sure, and he chewed on his necklace as he looked down upon the lyrics later.

Don’t you call him baby.

[leifygreeens]

What song/genre of music do you think of when you imagine the bachelor/ettes? If there was a specific artist or band for Sam, who do you think they'd be?

Oooh—I actually have thought about this! I have a playlist just for when I'm writing blurbs about the stardew valley characters, and no I don't care if any of these are predictable because I think they're accurate lmfao.

Sam

2014 Five Seconds of Summer, Shawn Mendes, and Why Don't We. His general vibe is young, reckless love. If there's a specific song in mind, I think of him as a mix between 5sos' End Up Here, She Looks So Perfect, If I Can't Have You by Shawn, and Why Don't We's Fallin' (Adrenaline)

Seb

I think he's a mix between 5sos' Voodoo Doll, Troye Sivan's Strawberries and Cigarettes, Taylor Swift's Style, and the last 90-ish seconds of Sleep Token's The Summoning. Also Conan Gray's Overdrive. He's still young and reckless, but he's a little more subdued and all over the place.

Alex

One Directions' Steal My Girl, Shawn Mendes' Wonder, and Harry Styles' Watermelon Sugar. Even though they're pretty heavy with gendered language, I have no issue imagining Alex with varying farmers while listening to these songs.

Elliott

His love definitely swerves more toward obsession and worship, so anything by Hozier, no question about it. But also Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Frank Valli is heavy Elliott energy.

Shane

Everybody Wants You by Johnny Orlando, Someone To You by BANNERS, DogBird by Madds Buckley, and Lauv's I Like Me Better. Like Seb, Shane's pretty all over the place as well. Also he makes me cry ahaha. hm.

Harvey

Harvey gave me a little bit of trouble when I first started writing. I had to think about him quite a bit to land on a genre/song for him. Anyway, Ophelia by The Lumineers, Ready Now by dodie, and The Way You Look Tonight by Michael Bublé are all Harvey coded. END ME

Maru

In My Mind by Lyn Lapid, Bubble Gum by Clairo, and Space Girl by Frances Forever. I imagine her as a pretty inexperienced and romantically repressed character (I wonder why Demetrius) so all of these songs have a certain level of melancholy about them, which is very Maru for me.

Penny

She by dodie, Conan Gray's Heather, and Lonely by Noah Cyrus. Repressed, just like Maru, but for different reasons. Never had the opportunity to really live her life, you know? Lots of insecurities and feelings of inadequacy my poor babie nO but I usually only listen to those when I'm feeling a little down. You can trust that I don't always write angst for her, and when I don't, it's loooots of early Taylor Swift.

Abigail

Very punchy, "powerful woman" type songs. Namely UPSAHL's People I Don't Like, Beautiful is Boring by BONES UK, and American Horror Show by SNOW WIFE. She has opinions and she's going to let you know what she thinks—but make no mistake, she is a loyal and good person to her core. She's just got an attitude sometimes.

Haley

Sabrina Carpenter. That's it. lmao no i'm kidding Diamonds Are Forever, Nonsense, Looking At Me, and Girlfriend by Bea Miller. I love me a mean, confident lesbian, but she does soften up the more you get to know her, and I always listen to Isabel LaRosa's I'm Yours when I want to go that route with her. I also think of her when I listen to Dress by Charlotte Sands.

Leah

Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machines, Light My Love by Greta Van Fleet, and Constellations by The Oh Hellos. She's got a certain whimsy about her, but she's still a very grounded individual. She and Elliott have a similar vibe to each other, but where he's the smell of salty sea spray and plum juice dripping from your fingers, she's frayed picnic blankets and the smell of grass after it rains.

Emily

Now this might be controversial, but Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello is always gonna make me think of her. I'm Born To Run by American Authors, Enchanted by Taylor Swift (her version, obviously), are also both some of the easiest songs for me to think about her. She definitely believes in soulmates and fate, and probably makes jewelry or sews while thinking about you.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

David O’Doherty in January 2003.

Have I ever drawn people’s attention to DO’D’s autobiography? I think I did once, sometime last year, but it seems worth doing again. First of all, he has a website that’s so charmingly dated it would almost be annoying, like an he’s intentionally made it look like a relic of the 2007 internet just to be quirky. Except for the fact that, in an excellent metaphor for reality, if you click on “comedy recordings” from his homepage, you’ll get to a further page with a link called “downloads” that brings you to his Bandcamp page, and a link called “actual physical CDs”, which is a broken link. If this were an intentional affection to stay “on brand”, then all the links, particularly the ones that lead to ways we can pay him money, would work. So it’s not like that, it’s just how David O’Doherty is.

Anyway, one of the links on his website is called “Autobiographical details uncomfortably written in the third person”, and it leads to a website bio of the sort you don’t see often. Not a social media bio. Not a publicity blurb. Not any kind of a blurb. It’s in paragraph form, in what appears to be Times New Roman, with no further formatting. The URL is davidodoherty.com/bio.htm, and I’m pretty sure he wrote the whole site himself in HTML, the same thing I learned to do in 2003, when I was twelve and wanted to make a Harry Potter fansite. Absolutely adorable, as well as, I think, a genuinely good thing. Fuck Twitter. Everyone should just have an HTML page with an essay about how they got into comedy, next to a link to their Bandcamp page. I’m not joking, that would genuinely be a better world.

I know DO’D’s website bio was written, or at least most recently updated, around 2013, because the last paragraph is: “He has written a new stand up comedy show David O’Doherty Will Try to Fix Everything that he will tour into 2014. He is writing a new children’s book and has got back into cycling.” And then it just ends.

I’ve enjoyed reading the whole thing, particularly this bit in the middle, when he lays out the origin story of the Chocolate Milk Gang (for clarity, this is DO’D writing about himself in the third person, and for context, Taika Cohen is the name under which Taika Waititi was born):

He spent 2001 contemplating whether he really wanted to be a stand up comedian and cycling in France. He wrote some cartoons for German children's television and a book that is still on his computer. He did a university stand up tour with Noel Fielding where, one night, the audience hated them so much, a man shouted, “STOP CONFUSING ME.” All in all, a tricky time.

But then in 2002 he went to Edinburgh with a new show “small things”, met comedians such as John Oliver, Bret McKenzie, Taika Cohen, Andy Zaltzman, Josie Long, Jemaine Clement and Daniel Kitson each doing wonderful and unique things, and decided that he definitely did want to be a stand up comedian.

So according to this, the above clip from January 2003 would be not that long after DO’D had decided to definitely commit to comedy. And less than a year before he joined some of the people who’d made him decide that, and smashed  up a cow with them.

Anyway, I’m almost sure I’ve heard him do that Not Quite Right song before, but I’ve checked and it doesn’t seem to be on his albums, I must have caught it in an old YouTube clip or something. Or it’s possible that it might have been one of the ones he played on on Daniel Kitson’s 2006 radio show, at some point. Or it may just be such a classic example of DO’D’s style that I feel like I’ve heard it before, even if I haven’t. Either way, I hugely enjoyed this historical artifact.

[finelinevogue]

hii ellie how are u doing???

i have a quick request…can you do a honeymoon blurb it could be insta or real life!! just make it super fluffy i’m really in the mood for it rn :)) ty bestie

honeymoon insta blurb incommingg for u bff;

29,937 likes

yourinstagram pov: my wedding gift from H🤍

1,908 comments

harryfan WHAT WAS IT?!?!?

harryfan2 wow he can actually wrap nicely

y/nfan1 i bet it’s like a bar of soap or something

annetwist Oh i’m so excited for you!❤️

yourinstagram @/annetwist sammeee!!

O •

108,224 likes

HSUpdates Harry walking through London airport this morning (1/8/22)

28,947 comments

y/nfan1 now i want to be y/n damn

y/nfan2 FUCK ME (daddy🫢)

harryfan1 is he trying to choke me? cause he can if he wants to

harryfan2 omgomgofmogm woah

45,937 likes

yourinstagram can’t believe this is my life🫶

1,730 comments

y/nfan1 i respect the bookmark maam

harryfan1 omg y/n has the original photo booth strip for a bookmark crYING

y/nbff don’t miss me too much now

yourinstagram @/y/nbff i won’t

gemmastyles Have a safe flight you both🥰

harrystyles Nice bookmark

239,937 likes

HSUpdates Harry and Y/N are in the South of France right now for their honeymoon (3/8/22)

12,231 comments

y/nfan1 the way they are laying on each other so intimately is everything i’ve ever wanted

harryfan1 i feel this like is too far an invasion of their privacy…

harryfan2 DONT spread this photo around guys

y/nfan2 @/harryfan2 then maybe they shouldn’t be famous ffs

HSUpdates @/y/nfan2 You sound so dumb right now

5,937,223 comments

harrystyles Poolside wife.

128,927 comments

harryfan1 y/n is fucking stunning wow

y/nfan1 harry is one lucky man

y/nfan3 that pool is pretty though

annetwist Awee❤️🥰

yourinstagram is that a new song title…

harrystyles @/yourinstagram No. That would be Love Of My Life.

287,765 likes

yourinstagram when in Southern France🍷

19,970 comments

harryfan1 MOUSTACHERRY NATION WE WON

harryfan2 the pink and white laces i CAANNTT

y/nfan1 hes so husbandrry

harrystyles ❤️

mommaL/N Oh he’s so handsome😘

yourinstagram @/mommaL/N i know ;)

37,832 likes

yourinstagram pizza night🍕

1,293 comments

y/nfan1 ooooh this is making me hungry

y/nfan2 life of a veggie

gemmastyles Hope you’re making an extra one for me!

harrystyles You forgot to mention that you burnt yours.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles only because YOU were hogging all my attention😑

121,232 likes

HSUpdates Harry and Y/N spotted in a restaurant last night (5/8/22)

12,978 comments

HSUpdates Owner of photo said, “They were giggling and smiling all night, it was too hard not to notice. They are a stunning couple who cannot keep their hands to themselves.”

y/nfan1 the way he’s looking at her🥵

harryfan1 @/y/nfan1 you can’t see his eyes…

y/nfan2 they’ve been having such a good honeymoon

harryfan1 awe im so happy for them

10,837,373 likes

harrystyles Love Of My Life.

774,847 comments

harryfan1 im not crying you are

yourinstagram @/harryfan1 you’re right. im definitely crying🥺

harrystyles @/yourinstagram Hug incoming

y/nfan1 daaaamn i want what they have

annetwist Glad you’re happy H❤️

harrystyles @/annetwist Very happy.

[sourholland]

spotify - old

spotify - new

taglists

→ requests are [open]

→ ** indicates NSFW

→ thanks for checking out my blog :) please enjoy, all feedback is appreciated greatly <3 do not repost my writing! if someone has and you are aware, please let me know

→ one shots

★ MY GIRL - dad!harry, You come home from grocery shopping to find Harry lulling your daughter Lucie to sleep with the Temptations.

★ MOTHER’S DAY - dad!harry, When Harry and Lucie wake you up on mother’s day with breakfast in bed and gifts, you share some exciting news.

★ IT’S A... - dad!harry, You and Harry find out the gender of your second baby.

★ CHERRY - After a messy breakup, Harry writes the song Cherry about you and it brings back old memories.

→ blurbs

★ shut up

★ you’re worth everything

★ are you alright?

★ fool’s gold

★ existentialism

★ sunday

→ one shots

★ DESPERATE - After a friend gets a bit too touchy at Haz’s birthday celebration, Tom gets jealous and drunkenly says some things he doesn’t mean.

★ LAST KISS - After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

★ IM SURE - Stuck hiding your relationship with Tom from the public, he shows up in secret to one of your fashion shows.

★ DON’T - After doing a movie early on in your career with Tom, you develop feelings for him. Only when he tells you it was all a bit of fun, do you try and move on with a new guy. Years later, you get engaged and Tom tells you not to go through with it.

→ series

★ A ROYAL CONVENIENCE** - (complete!) prince!tom, When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

★ GLAMOROUS** - (ongoing! ON HOLD) prince!tom, In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

→ blurbs

★ you’re late

★ swings

★ late night drives

★ blind date

★ livestream

★ needle

★ my love

★ and suddenly i see

→ one shots

★ CAKE - You go live on Instagram and bake a cake. Timothée comes home halfway through and doesn’t realize you’re live-streaming.

★ WHAT IF? - A doctor finds a lump in your breast. When you come home, Timothée comforts you and let’s you know how incredibly strong you are.

★ BEST FRIEND - Based on Best Friend, Rex Orange County - Timothée is completely in love with you, but you just can’t see it.

★ HEATHER - Based on Heather, Conan Gray - Part Two of Best Friend - Timothée is too late in telling you how he feels. Instead, someone else does it for themself.

★ MON AMOUR - A content morning in Paris spent naked and drawing Timothée while sharing a cigarette.

★ YOU CAN SEE ME - ghost!timothée, When you move to your aunt’s manor in 1902, you can’t help wondering about the mysterious boy who claims to live next door.

→ blurbs

★ pulse

★ tulips

★ milestones

★ no kids

★ record store

★ subway car

★ iris

★ the 1

★ paparazzi

★ lauren

★ traitor

★ marry me

★ maybe

★ strong

★ rooftop

★ the almighty remote battle

★ fries

★ i hate everyone but you

★ social media blurb #1

→ one shots

→ series

★ STYLE** → (ongoing!) He’s the Quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of Lake Erie—but does he have the heart to match it? You’re the Bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. It doesn’t take much to catch the eye of Joe Burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

[lililyoongi]

they both look stunning and I just became a fionn stan.👌

[wolfstardaughter-jj]

About me (tagged by @robynlilyblack) sorry I posted it late, exams and projects have been piling up like pancakes:////

♡ favorite time of the year ♡

New years eve, The fireworks display that happens in my neighborhood is the highlight of my year<333

♡ comfort food ♡

spicy ramen, something that I have mentioned in many posts of mine:)

♡ favorite dessert ♡

its between tiramisu and chocolate chip cookies with extra chocolate chips

♡ things you collect ♡

I recently started collecting movie tickets when I finally got to watch movies at the cinema after 2 years of not going:) I also collect my artist friends drawings and doodles that they make for me, I love each and every one of them<3333

♡ favorite drink ♡

Caramel Frappuccino or Pearl Milk tea, obsessed with both

♡ favorite musical artist(s) ♡

Taylor swift, Stephen Sanchez, Harry Styles, Lana del Rey, Conan Gray, Clinton Kane, ABBA and last but not least, Cigarettes after sex<3

♡ last song listened to ♡

Satisfied by the original Broadway cast of Hamilton, I'm constantly singing this song its getting concerning....

♡ last movie watched ♡

How to train your dragon, I missed watching the movies so why not rewatch it for the 100th time:)

♡ last series watched ♡

The Sandman, ngl Lord Morpheus's voice got me weak in the knees

♡ currently watching ♡

The Walking dead, I needed to feed my Zombie film addiction

♡ current obsession ♡

Guitar, I've been practicing almost every day now for 3 weeks or so? And I even made a song:)))

♡ dream place to visit ♡

Italy, London and France with my mom, I am in need of a vacation:))))

♡ place you wanna go back to ♡

to Bantayan with my relatives, had the most fun there with them. I've been wanting to go back for a while now.

♡ something you want ♡

A black cat, nothing else, I just desperately want a Black cat

♡ currently working on ♡

"Such a beautiful thing" A Sirius Black fic that was a request, a Loki the cat blurb that was also a request:)

Tagging some moots<3 @ghostofscarley @ell0ra-br3kk3r @expelliarweasley @wolfstar-jegulus-shipper @x-trinitx-x

[littlemisslipbalm]

“sorry to bother you”

Summary: Y/N meets Harry in a little shop in France. It was a lovely meeting between the fan and the rockstar, but when Y/N realizes she’s lost her phone, will she see Harry sooner than she had ever thought possible?

AKA Harry meets a fan and accidentally steals her phone

vibes bc they snack and she walks up to him while he’s looking at the sky lol ^

Ok so I just wanted to preface this: this was initially just going to be a short blurb about a respectful meeting between Harry and a fan because of the terrible stories I’ve been hearing lately about rude people being inconsiderate of Harry and his privacy and I wanted to showcase that you can treat Harry as a human being rather than an object when you see him irl. But then my writer brain wanted more and so it turned into more. All I have to say is if you ever meet Harry in real life, please be respectful and kind. Also there is a 0.00001 chance that this would ever actually happen as most fiction goes so please don’t expect more than a short convo and maybe a photo from him. For him to even speak with you is more than enough, he really isn’t a disneyland attraction. 

Also not proofread bc apparently its long lol, I’m not super in love with this but I think it’s good-ish the end is meh - pls lemme know what yall think :)

Word Count: 10.2k (wait im actually so confused how this got so long omfg) | Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, idrk its long but it’s sweet?

-

She saw him long before she approached him. She was truly unsure of herself, not wanting to bother him or upset him. She had been a fan for so long and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet someone who meant so much to her.

In the small Bayeux shop, she hesitates as she risks another glance at the tall man. She whispered to her mom minutes ago about how Harry Styles was in the same shop as them. Her mom was texting her non stop telling her to go up to him or she would do it herself. Y/N shook her head, distrusting her mom and feeling self conscious. No one else was in the store and her interaction with him wouldn’t disrupt the rest of the store, but for some reason she felt a tinge of discomfort about going up to him.

Harry leafs over a tablecloth, not paying attention to the other patrons in the store or anything else for that matter. He was staying on the coast of France for the week and he hadn’t run into many fans, so he was feeling at ease. Mitch was somewhere else in the store, but Harry felt comfortable on his own. He feels a soft, small tap on his broad shoulder. He turns expecting the quiet Mitch, but is presented with a short, sweet looking woman.

“Excuse me. Um, hi...Sorry to bother you,” she starts, eyes wide as she works to maintain eye contact with Harry as she looks up at him.

His green eyes are widened, realizing this isn’t someone he knows.

“Hello,” he says simply.

“I-” she pauses, her hands fiddling, “I’m sorry to bother you, honestly. But, your music means so much to me and I’d kick myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t say something before you left.”

He smiles, his expression softening at how genuine she sounds. “It’s quite alright.”

“It’s not though. I’m sure you’d appreciate not being bothered for once.”

“No,” he cuts her off, “I love talking with fans.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there’s days where you wish you could just go to a random store on the coast of France - so out of the way - and not be walked up to by a random person.”

“I mean, I guess, but you seem rather nice.”

“Thanks...I’ve been a fan long enough to know that there’s people who don’t always treat you with that kind of respect. I really wouldn’t have bothered you if it wouldn’t have changed my life.”

“Don’t feel like you’re a bother, please,” he pleads lightly as he grasps her hand out of instinct, dropping it immediately when he realizes what he’s done. “It’s the people who don’t actually come up to me and treat me like an animal that are upsetting. Or the people who are only after a photo and aren’t very nice to me. You… you’re treating me like a human being. Being overly courteous -- if I’m being honest.” He chuckles lightly at the end.

She blushes at his words and smiles up at him, mirroring the soft smile on his lips. “I’m only treating you how I would want to be treated if I were in your shoes.” She glances down at his feet and notices the Gucci boots and smiles to herself, laughing lightly.

“What?”

“We’ve got the same shoes on actually.”

“No way!” His voice is playful at first as he glances down at well and realizes she’s right. He laughs at the weird little coincidence.

“I’ve had these for years, my favorite shoes…” She mumbles, seeing the ways his eyes shift  with a flash of concern. It’s what she fears he would think of her, why she was so hesitant to approach him in the first place. It’s why she had tried to hide her laugh from him when she noticed the similarity. She just wants to interact with him in a normal way. He again softens at her words, her sincerity, realizing it really just is one of those random things.

“They’re good shoes,” he laughs again, kicking his left heel with his right foot. The way she barely touched him to get his attention and the way she stays a safe distance from him is reassuring. She’s aware of his situation, yet she’s treating him with the utmost care and respect.

“So what brings you to Bayeux?” He asks, deciding he wants to continue the conversation with her. Y/N flits her eyes behind her shoulder and sees her mother watching their interaction out of the corner of her eye. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, leaning against the counter her and Harry are at.

“Vacation, I guess. My family and I love to travel and ever since the pandemic settled down - finally, we’ve been jetting everywhere we’ve ever been or wanted to go. Seize the day vibes.” Her voice is serious, but she falters and laughs at the end. Her words are honest and she’s happy to actually get to talk to Harry more than just hello and a picture.

“I get that. You’re from America, yeah? It was really rough there for a long time.” He says solemnly, mirroring her figure, leaning against the counter, getting comfortable with her.  

She laughs again, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling, completely in love with her idol, but desperately trying to play it cool. “The accent gives it away, huh? I’m trying to fix that, get a job out of the states and never go back.”

“Hey!” Harry interjects, throwing his hand out from his stance in her direction, like he might touch her, but this time being careful to not actually. “It’s not that bad. I like your accent...And I love LA.”

She can’t stop laughing with Harry. It feels so simple and common to just be talking with him. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a rush anywhere, but she also fears to take up too much of his time. “I’m originally from up north in California actually. Living in LA right now, though. But I don’t know, I’ve just always felt like I was meant to live somewhere else. Do you know how that is? Just feeling like you’re meant for something different?”

He watches the way she moves her hands and works through her thought process. He feels like in another world they would have been close friends. The way she talks about things is so familiar to him. It’s like she’s read his mind, even though he knows for sure she hasn’t. She’s funny and laid back, yet mature at the same time. He wonders how old she is, out of college it seems if she’s trying to get a job out of the United States. He wonders what she plans to do and who she wants to become. Her aura intrigues him to no end. He thinks he could talk to her for hours.

Realizing he hasn’t made any sort of response to her somewhat philosophical question, he nods quickly, eyes blinking rapidly, his body straightening up back to his full height. “Yeah..I mean that’s how I felt about music. Like, I always felt like I was meant for something more… Turns out I was!”

They smile together again, knowing the conversation is ending. She knows he won’t keep asking questions and she doesn’t want to keep him.

He knows he can’t completely turn himself over to this stranger, she’s obviously younger than him and even though he feels connected to her, she could surprise him still. He knows he can’t talk to her forever, the cashier glancing at the pair of them every so often since they haven’t been looking at any merchandise for a while now. He knows he shouldn’t flirt with her, ask her out for coffee or anything of the sort. He simply knows this must come to an end any moment now.

“You should definitely follow your heart,... I didn’t catch your name?” He realizes when he can’t finish his sentence by calling her name.

“Oh!” She says surprisedly, not realizing she never gave her name, “Y/N. And thank you, means a lot to hear encouragement come from someone who’s been such an inspiration to me. Honestly, thank you.”

He perks at the way she says her name, again feeling like he’s known her for much longer than these five minutes.

“It’s me who should be thanking you, Y/N. Your support is what makes my life the way it is. It means a lot to me - and you truly seem like a lovely person, genuinely.”

She throws her head back in laughter at all of the words he’s saying. The way he’s trying to convey his sincerity is earnest, but his word choice is simply funny to her. Without realizing what she’s doing, she throws out her arm and her hand lands on his bicep to steady herself while laughing - something she would do with anyone normally. He doesn’t shift from her grasp when she opens her eyes and even widens them at the sight in front of her. Her hand on Harry Styles. How is this happening? She thinks as he doesn’t disintegrate underneath her touch. He’s definitely real as she feels the coat fabric and the muscles beneath it. He smiles down at her, so sweetly that his dimples pop out. She’s in awe, but has to contain the slight sense of coolness she’d been maintaining during their conversation.

She removed her hand, gingerly, “I won’t keep you any longer, Harry.” She blushes when she says his name. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to get a picture with you, but I totally understand if you’re not okay with that. I wouldn’t post it anywhere, it’s more just for me to remember this.” She rushes the last bit, feeling nervous and shy yet again. He was so big physically, but his presence was also so strong that she felt even smaller around him.

His smile calms her immediately and this time it's his hand to touch her, his hand landing over hers that’s been resting on the counter during their conversation.

“Of course,” His lips are soft and plush as they maintain his sweet smile. “Hey Mitch!” He looks over his shoulder as he calls to Mitch who has returned from the upstairs part of the shop.

Mitch blinks at the sight of Harry with a stranger before coming over, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking a picture of Y/N and me?”

Y/N is still in disbelief of what is going on, completely awestruck that Harry just said her name again to Mitch Rowland. And that Mitch Rowland was even in this shop with her as well. She hadn’t realized that at first. But now she was going to be forever grateful to her father for insisting they come back to Bayeux during this trip.

Mitch nods and takes her phone once she slips it out of her pocket, fingers fidgeting to get it open quickly. Mitch smiles at her reassuringly as she lets go and moves to stand beside Harry against the counter. He pulls her into his side gently and her hand goes around his waist, feeling his warmth and substantiality for the first true time. She tries to ground herself in the moment, memorizing every detail of right now. His cologne that emanates from his neck, the way the material of his jacket feels against her bare arm, the way he puffs out a slight laugh as Mitch shifts around to get most of their bodies in the frame. Oh and the way he looks when he tilts his neck to check on her and he even risks a wink of one of his emerald eyes and she promises herself she’ll never give away any of the clothes she’s wearing right now. Her nonchalant response is to wink right back and then they both smile, turning back their attention to the phone in Mitch’s hands.

Her mom had gone up to the cashier, effectively distracting them from the photoshoot that had begun to take place. Y/N never wants Harry to let go of her, but again she knows this can’t last forever. Mitch takes a couple of photos before handing the phone back. Y/N assumes that’s it and is about to thank Harry, but he speaks over her and her words die in her throat.

“How do they look?”

“Oh?” She flips through them and Harry leans over her shoulder, respectfully. “Pretty good,” she sums up, she loves them and she’d love even more, but she’d obviously never ask Harry for that.

“Pretty good?” He echoes, unsure of her response, looking from her to the photos, “Do you want to take more?”

She thinks on his offer, already knowing the right answer, “No, no. It’s all good. Thanks.”

Then turning to face Mitch, who’s been watching the pair of them converse, “Could I actually get a photo with you, Mitch? Sorry if that’s super weird, I just think you’re really cool. I had no idea you were even here until, uh, Harry called you over.” She laughs nervously, blushing yet again.

Harry laughs under his breath at how both her and Mitch blush at her words. She’s more unsure with Mitch, which he finds interesting. She had carried their conversation easily and maintained eye contact casually, but with Mitch, it was like he was her schoolyard crush, nervous hands and fleeting glances. He wondered if she genuinely only liked Harry for his music and didn’t find him physically attractive. This nagging feeling at the back of his mind perplexed him, he twitched trying to shrug it off. Why did he care if this woman found Mitch attractive and not him?  

“Yeah, of course. It’s not weird, have had plenty of people say much weirder things to me than that…” He smiles at Y/N and she mirrors his expression, but then she bites her lip. Her expression falters slightly as she processes his words. “I’m sorry if you’ve had similar experiences as Harry with so-called fans being disrespectful and inconsiderate.”

“No need to apologize, you’ve been nothing but kind and respectful,” Harry interjects

She only fidgets at his words. She’s growing slightly more nervous, being in the presence of both Mitch and Harry was starting to wear on her calm exterior. Still, Mitch trades places with Harry and Harry plucks her phone from her hands. He takes more photos than Mitch, doing close ups and full shots, causing Mitch and Y/N to laugh as they hold onto each other. He gives them little instructions on what to do in the photos and soon Y/N is rolling her eyes at Harry like she’s been best friends with him for ages. She feels like she’s just out with a couple of her friends and they decided to stop and pose for photos randomly, rather than meeting rock legends that she had only dreamt of ever seeing in real life.

When Harry is finally satisfied and comes up to the pair of them, she moves away from Mitch first, his long hair shifting as she pulls away from his side. She turns to face him immediately and starts to gush, “You’re an amazing guitarist, by the way. I forgot to say that. When I heard ‘She’ for the first time...I was blown away. The guitar on it...Feels like you’re in another universe. And it follows up ‘To Be So Lonely’ which your guitar on it is also like crazy epic. ”

Harry and Mitch laugh, but Mitch’s smile is appreciative, like he’s about to speak, but Harry speaks first, “That’s because he was in another universe. You know the story?”

She smiles and nods. Harry nods in approval. Mitch interjects, “Thank you. Also, Y/N,” he stares intently at her face and she meets his gaze this time, “You’re truly one of the kindest people - maybe the kindest - who have come up to us. And I’m not just saying that because you complimented my guitar playing.”

“He’s right,” Harry nods solemnly. Her face beams up at them both, now she really felt like this was too good to be true. Meeting her idols and having them both say very complimentary things about her, she’d cherish it forever.

“You both are amazing people and deserve to be treated as such.” Her tone is the sincerest she’s ever been, meaning every single thing she says. Then she rushes out her next few sentences, “But thank you again, seriously, you both mean a lot to me - I’ll let you get back to it...Have a nice day!”

After they say their farewells swiftly, she turns to leave and bounces over to her mother who is grinning with pride for her daughter. Before she exits completely she risks a glance over her shoulder and throws a peace sign up, Harry returns it. Then she walks out of the shop, her mother finishing up her shopping minutes ago. Mitch and Harry stay back, talking and continuing to look around the store.

Y/N tries to keep her cool until they’re out of sight of the shop. Once they round the corner and are on the next street over, she’s jumping up and down and squealing to her mom. “Can you actually believe it? What the fuck just happened? That was real right? I wasn’t hallucinating?”

Her mom laughs and reassures her it was real, “You did that, I’m so proud of you. You handled yourself very maturely”

“Well I tried! I can’t believe Mitch was there too!” She interjects, cutting off her mom, completely ecstatic from the previous experience.

“So how did the photos come out?” Her mom asks once Y/N had stopped rambling about Harry’s outfit and their matching shoes and their conversation and basically anything that had happened in the last ten minutes. They were blocks from the shop now.

“Photos?”

“Yeah, the photos you took with them. How do they look? I was ready to come over, but then that other man popped out of nowhere.”

“He’s smooth like that,” she says wistfully, her little crush on Mitch being nowhere near her love for Harry, but still present, and pats for her phone. “Oh.” She says, stopping in her tracks.

Her mother stops with her, “What?”

“I...I left my phone in the store, I guess.”

“Y/N…” Her mom drags out her name in exasperation, in awe of her daughter’s ability to be so smooth with her own idol yet how forgetful she could still be.

“Shit!” She confirms that her phone is nowhere to be found.  

“Really?” Her mother sighs, hands sitting on her hips in the center of the French street.  

“Sorry?” She asks sheepishly. In her starstruck stupor she had been too transfixed on Harry and Mitch and must have placed it down on the counter.

“Well, let’s go back,” her mother states, tired but also not completely mad. She lost her phone plenty of times and it was usually because of less acceptable reasons. Meeting your idols warranted a spacey head.

The door chimes as Y/N reenters the store, she walks quickly to wear she had her conversation with Harry almost twenty minutes ago and her mom goes to ask the clerk if they had grabbed it. It’s not on the counter where they had been leaning. She glances around checking to see if it had fallen on the ground or if by some grand luck Harry and Mitch were still there. Due to her luck, neither of these hopes came true. Her mom joins her in the area and shakes her head, the clerk hadn’t gotten any phones turned in since they had left the first time.

“Give me your phone,” Y/N says suddenly. “Find my iphone,” she explains when her mom looks at her questioningly. Checking the phone, she sighs in exasperation, silently cursing herself for not sharing her location with her mom when her phone icon says ‘location unavailable’. She rubs a hand over her face in disappointment.

“Don’t click the sound button!” Her mom says quickly, “If someone stole it, they’ll turn it off when they hear it.”

“But how am I supposed to find it? It could be here and I just can’t see it.” Her finger hovers over the ‘play sound’ button, hesitant, but desperate. She had met and gotten photos with Harry Styles and they were already gone - oh and she’d have to replace her phone, which would be terrible, as well.  

“Maybe Harry Styles has it?”

“Mom, don’t be dumb.”

“Hey! Watch your tone. I’m serious. Did he ever hand it back to you after he took those second round of pictures?”

Y/N scratches her head nervously and hands back her mom’s phone. She places both over her face and presses her fingers harshly over her eyes trying to think. She hadn’t been paying attention to her phone at the time, too busy trying to commit everything about Harry to memory in her mind so that she’d never forget it. She was sure she’d never forget today, now, even if she ever stopped loving Harry, which she was doubtful of. Hey kids, I met a rockstar and I was so starstruck I lost my phone in France! She groaned. “Oh my fucking god!”

After a few deep breaths with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, she composed herself, “We need to play the sound. Either it’s here and we’ll find it. Or - worst case scenario - it sounds and Harry Styles realizes he has my phone and we go from there… Well, I guess in the worst case scenario some jerk stole it and they turn it off and sell it for parts, but I just don’t think that’s what happened.” She bites her lip and stares at her mom, who hesitantly raises her finger to press the button that sets off the alarm on the lost phone. She clicks it after an overly dramatic pause. Y/N prays to anyone who’s willing to listen, she says in her mind, please sound the phone in here. Life would be so much simpler if it worked out the way we wanted. But, in place of the annoying echoing ring of the Find My iPhone tone there is only silence. At least there’s silence in the little shop in Bayeux.

-

In a tiny taxi cab that was headed to a small chateau outside of the town of Bayeux, the phone sounds and causes Harry to furrow his brows. He was sure he had his phone on ‘do not disturb’, but he pulls it out anyway to see why it’s making this annoying sound. What he pulls out of his coat pocket is not his phone he realizes immediately.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, still loud enough for Mitch to look over from the opposite passenger seat.

“What?”

“This isn’t my phone.”

“What?”

Harry rolls his eyes at Mitch’s repeated question and opens up his purse digging out his actual phone and holds up his and the one he had apparently stolen.

“Oh, yeah, that’s not your phone. That’s not good.”

Harry huffs as he turns the unknown phone over in his hand, the screen was a scene of a city he didn’t actually recognize - San Francisco maybe - the lavender silicone case is smooth in his hand and he notices a little sticker, it’s of Y/N and two other women. His eyes widen at it and it makes a little more sense to him. He hadn’t really stolen a phone, he just forgot to give it back. It wasn’t much better, but it was how he was going to comfort himself. Dropping his own phone in his lap, he runs his hand through his hair, rings slightly tugging at his mused curls. Then he turns the sticker to show Mitch, “It’s that girl we met, it’s her phone.”

“You stole her phone,” Mitch states. Voice deadpan and eyes boring into Harry’s.

“No!” Harry defends, but quickly slumps, “I mean, technically? Yes...But-” Mitch’s laughter cuts him off. “You’re an idiot, Harry, y’know that?”

-

“I feel like I’m on punk’d right now…” Y/N grumbles as it becomes clear that the phone is not in this shop. “If this is punk’d, at least my phone’s not actually gone,” she says to no one really. Her mom is pacing the store and stops to look at her daughter, “This is most definitely not punk’d for so many reasons, dear. Mainly because the show got canceled but also because we are in Bayeux, France not Malibu.”

“Fuck…”

She walks out of the shop, barely paying a glance to the shop keeper this time, her usual kind demeanor nowhere to be found under the piles of distress and anxiety plaguing her body.

Back out on the street she looks around, again hoping that with any luck Harry is still around and will come running up to her to give her back her phone. Again, no such luck.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” She looks to her mom helplessly, her arms flapping by her sides, defeated.

-

“What the fuck am I going to do?” Harry asks as they get out of the taxi, glancing at the purple phone in his hand.

Mitch shrugs, “Hope she has her location on?”

“Then she’s going to come here...But wouldn’t she have tried to track it first instead of playing the sound?”

“Dude, I don’t know.You can try to unlock it and find her mom’s number, get in contact with them.” Mitch sighs as they walk through the front door. “Or we can go back to town, see if they’re still there? Did you get her last name? You could find her on social media maybe?”  

“I feel terrible...She was so nice.” Harry throws his bags down on the entryway couch and begins to pace, Y/N’s phone never leaving his hand. “Could go back into town tomorrow, maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mitch sits and runs a hand through his hair, “Just calm down, right now, Harry. There’s not much else you can do.”

He’s right and Harry tries to not fixate on the phone, but he fiddles with it for the rest of the day. He doesn’t let it leave his sight and sets it beside his bed when he gets ready to go to sleep. As he shifts in the bed, unable to fall asleep he takes the phone and begins trying to unlock it, guessing random numbers and failing miserably. Eventually, he decides he should go to bed and drifts off into an uncomfortable sleep.

-

After being unsuccessful in town, Y/N and her mom went back to the little villa they were staying at on the outskirts of Bayeux. It was located next to some vineyards that the villa co-owned with the private chateau that sat on the other side of the vines. It was beautiful and she had been so excited to be staying there. But after the events of today, she was not in the mood to join the rest of her family for dinner among the grapes. She lays on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had been so stupid to forget to ask for her phone back.

In the middle of the night, she wakes up in a cold sweat. She’s still in the clothes she had worn out and was laying on top of her covers at the end of her bed. All the windows of the room were closed and her shades weren’t drawn. Groggily, she rose from her uncomfortable position and changed. Moving to the window to let some air in she sees the lights flickering in a room of the private chateau across the way. She wondered why someone would willingly be up at this hour, even though she was unsure exactly what time it was without her phone. Her phone. That’s what had woken her up. She had dreamt that her mom had called her phone and the frog from the Frog and the Toad stories had picked it up. That was ridiculous, of course, but the idea to call her phone instead of just pinging it was solid. If Harry still had it, then he could pick up and they could figure out how to meet up. She decided she’d have to do that at a reasonable hour, however and moved on, opening her windows and closing the sheer shades, before getting under her covers to sleep.

-

Y/N wakes up early the next morning. Her sleep a restless one. Padding down the hall to her parent’s room, she knocks solemnly. She was far from a morning person and it was much to her mother’s surprise to see her standing in the hallway when she opened the door.

“Hey..” her voice catches in her throat, scratchy from lack of use in the night.

“Good morning, sunshine,” her mother laughs slightly, but Y/N only gives her an unamused look and walks into her room immediately searching for her mom’s phone.

“Need to use your phone, gonna call my phone,” she mutters, none of her thoughts being coherent sentences.

“Y/N, it’s 7 am. You’re going to call Harry Styles at 7 am? With your morning voice?”

Her eyes narrow and her lips form a straight line one her face, clearly not amused by her mother’s questions. Even if she knew her mom was right. She clears her throat and rolls her eyes at her mom, who is moving around the room beginning to get ready for the day as her daughter sits on the rumpled bed. Y/N’s father had already gone out to breakfast in the main area of the villa.

“Fine,” she slides off the bed when she realizes her mom isn’t offering her any more words of wisdom. “I’ll get ready for the day and then I will call my phone.”

Pattering back to her room, she slowly begins to dress and liven herself up for the day. Her hands instinctively reach out to her bedside table to pick up her phone to turn some music on, but of course she’s greeted with nothing. She groans loudly, “Of. Fucking. Course.” Shaking her head, she moves to take fresh clothes out of her suitcase.

Exiting her room again, this time far more awake, she walks down the hallway in a babydoll style top that read “Don’t play with my heart” with little girls playing racquetball with a red heart emblazoned over her chest and white jean floods. Her feet were covered in red high top converse today, matching the color of the small heart on her shirt. She liked the contrast of the white pants and the bright red of the shoes and she smiled to herself as she walked confidently into the breakfast area.

Her entire family was sitting around one of the tables, sipping coffee and eating pastries, it was now around 8:45 - a slightly more acceptable part of the day. They were all early risers, especially in comparison to her, and her older sister looks at her curiously. “What are you doing up so early, kid?” Y/N leans down to grab a slice of a peach from her brother’s place, which earns her a slight yelp of protest. She rolls her eyes at her sister and stalks off to the buffet, knowing she’s made her presence known enough.

“Can I borrow your phone now?” Y/N says after finishing a small danish and the lukewarm coffee that was at their table when she arrived. Her mother finally nods and hands it over. As Y/N grabs it, she’s already halfway out the doors that lead into the backyard of the villa. 

She stands on the grass that goes for a few feet before a hedge that separates the villa ground with the vineyard. Flipping through the contacts, she settles on hers and sighs, trying to calm her nerves. Her free hand ghosts over her hair and she uses one foot to step lightly on the heel of the other shoe. Please pick up, she sends out a prayer once again. Her last twenty-four hours seemed to consist of dreams, hopes, and prayers and she was starting to realize that she didn’t particularly like any of them. Biting her lip, she raises her phone up to her ear and gets her automatic voice message. Realizing she has her phone on ‘do not disturb’, she immediately rings herself again, knowing that it will go through this time.

-

Harry strolls out of his bathroom and widens his eyes when he hears a buzzing hear his bed. Seeing it’s Y/N’s phone he grabs it quickly and furrows his brow at the contact. Her mother’s name, but he doesn’t know that. To him it’s just a person’s name, it could be anyone she knew. Still, he thought about the odds of it being just one of her friends or her calling from someone else’s phone and decided to risk it.

“Hello?”

“Thank fucking God!” is all he hears and he’s pretty sure it’s Y/N’s voice.

“Y/N?” He laughs and takes a seat on his bed, staring out his window that opened to the vineyard.

“Yes! Harry? Hi!” She’s ecstatic that anyone picked up at all, bouncing up and down on the other side of the phone. She mutters to herself, once again, “Thank fucking God.”

“Who’s phone are you calling from?”

“Oh, my mom’s,” she says, calming down slightly as she begins to walk around the grass, unable to contain the renewed sense of energy she has.

“You don’t keep her in your contacts as ‘mum’? I almost didn’t pick up.” He tilts his head, trying to think of anyone else he knew who kept their mother’s contact as the actual name rather than ‘mum’ or some other variant of it.

“Well, thanks for picking up,” she laughs at his words, bringing her pacing to a stop to stare at the chateau across the way. “It’s really not that weird,” she insists, her arm going to cradle the elbow of the arm that holds the phone to her ear. “I don’t think any of my siblings have her as ‘mom’ in their contacts.”  

“I think it’s a little weird. I’m going to have to start asking people what they’ve got their mum down as in their phones. You’ve got me intrigued,” he muses, only slightly teasing. A smile curves onto his face as he hears her huff over the phone, obviously not liking his ribbing.

“So...you have my phone,” she changes the subject.

“Yes…” he scratches his head and she swears she could hear him awkwardly rubbing at his hair. “Sorry ‘bout that. Guess I forgot to give it back.”

“Not entirely your fault, I probably should have asked for it back. It was like twenty minutes before I even realized I didn’t have it and that was only really thanks to my mom.” She tries to not make him feel bad, because she honestly felt responsible for the mess up.

“Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t’ve realized till I got back to my place and pulled out one phone from my pocket and another one from my bag if you hadn’t tried the ‘find my iphone’ thing.”

“Oh my god, was it loud!? Did you have a hard time shutting it off?” She rushes as all the possible ways she might have annoyed Harry yesterday run through her mind.

“No, no, it was fine,” he reassures her, laughing lightly, standing up now and beginning to pace in front of his window. “Felt like a proper dick, though. Never in my life have I forgotten to give someone their phone back.” He sighs and stops in front of the window, deciding to open it for some fresh air.

Her gaze flits to a movement on the second floor of the chateau, someone opening up their window apparently. The long paned windows flip open and the little sheer curtains flutter in the slight morning breeze.

“So are you still in Bayeux?” Harry asks, hoping her answer is ‘yes’ as he takes in a deep breath of the air from outside.

“Yeah. Are you still here?” She asks timidly, moving her gaze down to her shoes bright red sticking out of the green grass. “Because that will make getting my phone back much easier,” she adds, clarifying that it’s not supposed to be a personal question, just simply a logistical one. Even if her heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again.

“Yes, I am. Well...just outside the town actually.”

“You don’t say? I’m staying just outside of town, too. At a little villa located next to a vineyard,” She looks around her surroundings again, walking the length of the garden once more. A movement from the same room that had opened their windows at the chateau catching her eye once again. A man, with his arm placed on the sill, leaning out slightly.

“You’re not wearing red shoes by any chance?” He smiles and she can hear the way it affects his words. Looking out of the window, he eyes the villa and the person who was pacing around its patio, seemingly on the phone.

Her brows raise and she stops in her tracks. “Did you just open your window?”

The only response from Harry that she hears is a soft chuckle. But, more importantly, the man in the chateau is waving to her. She grins and waves her free hand over her head, doing a slight jump to make sure he sees her. His laughter only grows, crackling slightly over the telephone line.

“What are the odds?” She breathes out after a moment. Her waving hand fell to her side and she looked at the figure in the window. It wasn’t exactly clear to her that it was Harry, but the way the man was hunched was enough to convince her. She vaguely sees him shake his head in agreement at the serendipitous nature of their current situation.

“Have you had a chance to dine in the vineyard yet?” Harry bites his lip after he asks the question, feeling a little more confident in his flirtation over the phone.

“I have - only once for dinner. Last night I was so stressed I couldn’t eat.”

“What do you think about lunch in the vineyard?” He’s smiling now, the charm dripping in every word he says. His accent is music to her ears and she thinks how could she ever say no to that offer.  

“I don’t know...lunch with my phone thief?” She imitates an unsure tone. Her tease is lighthearted and Harry huffs, playfully indignant.

“As an apology for keeping your phone by mistake,” he adds, emphasizing the ‘by mistake’ part.

“As long as I can get my phone back, I’m up for anything you want,”  She laughs, but then blushes at the innuendo that could be found in her words. Harry hears it and an amused look spreads across his face, the definition of anything running through his mind as well as his assured belief that Y/N did not mean what she had just implied. “I mean! Not anything, I just...Lunch in the vineyard would be lovely, Harry.” She sighs, a hand trailing down her face at her complete foolishness.

“Great. How does one o’clock sound?” He moves on from her slip, not wanting to embarrass her anymore. Especially when he was the one to cause this entire situation.

“Sounds smashing, Mr. Thief,” She breathes out, but laughs when she hears Harry groan.

“You’re something else, missy.”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her giggles at their playful back and forth.

“See you at one.” He says finally.

“See you at one.” She echoes, continuing to watch him in the window. Neither of them seem to move to hang up. She’s stood in place and so is he, his head hanging out of the window now, resting himself on his arm. It’s just their breathing exchanging over the line and some gusts of wind crackling the connection every so often.

“Are you going to hang up?” She whispers, after a minute of complete silence, her voice coming out impossibly small.

“Thought you would’ve by now.”

“I don’t know why I can’t.” She admits, but she just feels weird hanging up on him even if they have plans to see each other later.

“Me neither.” His response causes her to tilt her head in confusion. Why would he have trouble hanging up on her?

“Okay.”

Then, it’s quiet again. Both of them shifting their bodies around, yet still managing to stay on the line. Y/N is the one who hangs up the phone after hearing Harry’s breath shake slightly, like he’s steeling himself to actually hang up. She realizes that while she doesn’t want to hang up on him, she’d rather do it than have him hang up on her. If that made any sense. She wasn’t sure, but the way he had invited her to lunch, it just felt like he had shifted their relationship from fan and star to something else. Something she didn’t fully grasp, but whatever it was made her stomach flip.

-

She informed her family that she wouldn’t be going out with them today and that she was getting her phone back, but not that she would be having lunch with Harry. She had no idea what they would think about it, but she didn’t want to give them the chance to inform her.

Walking through the vineyards, she watches the slight dust from the dirt gather on her shoes, the red converse. She had settled on what she had been wearing originally after changing her outfit upwards of twenty times. Best to be casual, she thought, like it was no big deal that she was about to dine with a musician whom she loved.

There was only one table on this side of the vineyard, it was the part owned by the chateau, a couple rows from where the villa had their tables. The simple cream tablecloth laid across the wooden table that had two matching wooden chairs with cream cushions placed around it. On top of the table was a picnic basket and a bottle of red wine, made from the grapes in the vineyard. And in one of the chairs sat Harry. Big square green glasses perched on his nose as he looked up at the sky. Y/N takes in his appearance, his cream shirt with stitched patterns on it, half unbuttoned to grant a full view of his swallows and butterfly as well as baggy light wash ripped jeans and dirty white vans. His shirt almost matches the tablecloth, but she’s not sure if he would take that as a compliment.

He hadn’t noticed her presence and he rubs his lips together, smoothing the lip balm he had applied before settling outside.

“Mr. thief?” She touches lightly on his shoulder, similar to how she had done yesterday. His head shoots up and he readjusts in his chair, to sit up slightly more upright. A smile curves onto his face and he moves his glasses up into his hair, pushing his curls back behind them.

“Y/N,” he drags out her name, toying with the sound of it. His eyes flit over her figure, taking in her outfit but quickly run back to her beautiful face. He motions for her to take a seat and she complies.

“The red shoes,” he smiles, glancing at her shoes. She laughs and does a little click of her heels.

“Can’t believe my phone was less than a mile away from me last night.”

“Oh! Your phone!” Harry’s eyes widened, “I forgot it in my room!”

Y/N laughs, her smile spreading on her face immediately, but her face falls when she sees Harry isn’t laughing. “You can’t be serious.” Harry says nothing, a blush creeping up his neck. “Harry…” she doesn’t know what else to say, scratching at the back of her head. “I guess stars really are just like us, complete space cadets.”

“I’m sorry! I was..distracted.”

She can’t keep herself from laughing and she places her hand over Harry’s on the table, trying to calm him down. “No worries, seriously, I was just teasing you. I’ve gone this long without my phone, an hour or so more won’t kill me.”

He smiles sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for how foolish he had made himself look. “Sorry ‘bout that. Seems like I’m really trying to keep your phone, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of...but I don’t think there’s anything in particular on there that you’d really be interested in having access to.”

He grabs the bottle of wine and takes the temporary cork off, he had previously uncorked it before Y/N had arrived. He pours the wine and then quirks a brow towards her. “I’m sure you’ve got some funny notes on there, you’re hilarious.”

She scoffs as his look is serious. Picking her glass up, she clinks it with Harry’s and takes a sip. She hums at the taste, judging the flavor and deeming it good. He watches her as she makes her silent decision and smirks at the way she smiles to herself. Coming back to the conversation she makes eye contact with Harry as she sets the glass down and leans back in her chair.

“You barely know me.” A coy smile flits across her features now. Harry’s heart skips a beat at her tone. He had been expecting some lighthearted quip, but this held something far more intense. It’s still teasing, but it’s far closer to flirting than friendly joking.

He begins to unpack the basket and place food onto the table, eyes constantly flickering between his task and Y/N. Her eyes are fixated on his hands, the way they flex and move and the way his rinks clink against the containers he’s moving around.

“Then tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” He finishes placing the food on the table and removes the basket from the table so there’s nothing obstructing their view of each other.

“Very specific,” she takes a sip of her wine again, refraining from rolling her eyes. It was easy to talk to Harry, like they had been friends forever.

Harry lets out one of his loud single laughs. “See! You’re hilarious.” His compliment makes her finally roll her eyes playfully. Instead of responding, she puts some food onto the plate in front of her and takes a bite of a peach slide she had grabbed.

“You’re a flirt,” she says finally, her smile spreading across her face.

“That’s a fact ‘bout me not you, love.”

She bites her lip. For being extremely forgetful, Harry was also extremely charming. “Well, I’m not a fan of flirts.”

“I thought you said you were a massive fan yesterday?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at her with an inviting look in his eye, obviously trying to goad her.

She let out a gasp at his words and began to blush. His stare felt like a second sun boring straight into her, its heat traveling directly to her core. Trying to maintain her collected appearance that she had played so well yesterday, she takes a breath and another sip of wine. The liquid ran down her throat, soothing her. Shaking her head she says, “You know what I meant.”

Biting a piece of bread, Harry nods and shoots her a wink. Her legs instinctively shift together. Finishing his chewing, he speaks up, “Okay, but seriously, tell me more about yourself.”

They settle in, getting more serious and having an actual conversation rather than flirty comments shot back and forth. By the end of the bottle of wine, Harry and Y/N are cackling about some story she’s told about her first solo trip to Amsterdam and all the trouble she got into being a twenty year old college student with easy legal access to weed.

“I remember the first time I went to Amsterdam with the band,” Harry easily segways into his own story and she perks at the words ‘the band’. After all the fun they had been having talking and getting to know each other, the idea that Harry was a famous musician had left her mind completely. For the last forty-five minutes he had just been a really nice guy who was treating her to lunch.

She looks at him expectantly. “It was crazy cool, I think I was only seventeen then? But everyone else was over 18 so they bought us a bunch of pot and we smoked it and got high off our asses. Can barely remember what we talked about, but we definitely thought it was the smartest shit ever”

“Do you ever miss that?”

He finishes off his last bit of wine, “Being young and dumb?”

“No, the, like, relationship you had with them. I don’t mean to pry, but I feel like with any close relationship, when you stop being together all the time...it’s never the same.”

Harry sighs, thinking over what you had said, now knowing it was rather serious and not just about being young. He runs a hand through his soft curls before starting his response. “Short answer is yes. But, y’know, they were my family for so long and that bond doesn’t go away, even if we go through rough patches. Like that part of my life is such an essential part of who I am, I could never throw it away or discount it. I don’t know if I miss it all of the time though. I really like who I am right now.”

She nods, finishing her wine now too. Her body is fuzzy and warm under the soft light of the afternoon. Sharing a bottle of wine was enough to make her tipsy, but she felt sober enough to carry on their serious conversation. “That’s good. It’s important to like who you are right now. It’s how you know you’re ready to be there for others.” She says thoughtfully and then adds, “I like who I am right now, too.”

Harry smiles at her, a calm expression maintaining on his face, and twists his rings on his fingers. “That’s good,” he echoes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” His voice is soft and of course she’s going to say yes.

Her response is to stand up from the table and begin putting things back into the picnic basket. Harry watches her for a moment, taking in the way she moves with so much elegance even when doing such a mundane task. He is honestly so happy that he had gotten to see her again. She had intrigued him yesterday, but he had just expected her to be one of those fleeting thoughts in his mind. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling she would live in his memory for far longer. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll come back later and grab it all.”

“You set this all up, the least I can do is clean up a little,” She looks up at him from her crouched position as she packs up the leftover food into the basket still on the ground. Her hair is slightly falling into her face and she reaches to push it behind her ear while they continue to look at one another. Harry takes his lower lip into his mouth as he continues to look at her, trying to convince himself she’s not the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.

As they walk between the grapes, they continue to talk, further investigating Y/N’s job aspirations and what Harry was planning on for his next few weeks of vacation. He leads them down a dirt path after they cross the street, moving away from both the villa and the chateau. The path has tall grass flanking its sides that pushes around in the cool summer breeze. She mentions the beautiful sound of the birds chirping and Harry agrees. They walk until they reach the small lake that’s about a ten minute walk from their respective current residences. It’s not a lake for swimming so there’s no one around, just more tall grass, some small trees, and the animals.

“It’s really so beautiful here.”

“I love it a lot, I’ve been coming down here every evening and just sitting alone for an hour or so,” Harry motions to the little wooden bench located beneath a shady tree. She looks at him questioningly, unsure if he means for them to sit. He takes her hand in response and leads them over to it. It’s right before the edge of the pond and if their legs were just a bit longer they could touch the feet into the water.

“It’s nice,” She says, turning her attention from the scenery to stare at Harry, who she finds is already looking at her. Their eyes meet and she bites her lip. He’s so close to her. Closer than they were in the shop yesterday and now their faces are on the same level. His glasses are still pushed into his curls and she decides to pluck them from his head and place them over her eyes instead. Harry protests, but she says smugly, “I’m putting them to better use than just sitting a top that head of yours. It’s quite bright out.”

Harry leans into her, extending his arm behind her and resting it on the back of the bench. She sighs peacefully, with her gaze now hidden behind the glasses. She returns her gaze out against the water and tries to shift closer to Harry casually. They stay silent, listening to the rest of the world moving around them. Soon she’s resting nestled into his side and his arm has moved from the bench to rest around her shoulders. She exhales in contentment, but neither of them have said anything for a while. They were okay with it, being held was enough. Her right hand goes up and threads with Harry’s that is hanging limply against her.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry decides he wants to talk. “I like being around you.”

“I like being around you too, Harry. You’re different than I had expected.”

“Really?”

“Yeah..I mean there’s that sinister quote about how you should never meet your heroes. But still, you were even kinder than I expected and even though you stole my phone,” she pauses to laugh,”it kind of turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I got to see you again.”

“Thanks…” Harry sighs and she turns her face to gaze up at him. “Well, yeah, now I’m sorta glad I did take your phone. You’re really wonderful.” She smiles and he smiles just as wide.

But then her smile falters, suddenly remembering everything. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, she mentioned that thing about heroes and it all came crashing down around her. Yes, it was amazing to be around Harry and it was great that he had been so down to earth. But what she had just said was true too. He was her hero, he was famous and their lives didn’t connect at all. Just that one fleeting moment in the shop. If she hadn’t known him they would have never interacted. She had even been on her last legs of being in that store, she was just about to ask her mom to leave when Harry had walked through the door.

She sits up and drops her hand from his and he looks at her confused. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks, concerned. She stands up now and walks the short distance to the edge of the water, pushing his glasses on top of her head. He follows quickly, growing anxious as she stays silent. “I just..” she laughs in spite of herself, “I just feel really dumb right now.”

“What? Why?” Harry’s really confused now, she won’t meet his gaze as he faces her trying to figure out what just happened.

“I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking for even a second this could ever be something more.” She turns to Harry finally, looking him directly in the eye, even though her eyes are prickling with tears. She’s angry with herself, not Harry. “You’re you and I’m just a fan at the end of the day. All of the flirting and touching, it can’t be anything more. At most, I’m a one night stand. And as great as that would be in the moment, I know how I feel about you and I know it would ruin me. I can’t be a fling for you, Harry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he grabs her arm, trying to comfort her, she shrugs him off. “You’re more than a fan to me, I thought that was obvious by now. You wouldn’t be some meaningless one night stand. When I say I like being around you, I mean I like you, Y/N.” His voice is strong yet soft. He needs to convince her that she can feel comfortable around him, but he sees the darkness in her eyes, how scared she is of being hurt.

“I don’t fit into your life, Harry.” She shakes her head, moving her hands more as she grows more anxious.

“That’s not true. You told me you want to move to England, we could see each other there and see if this was anything.”

She knows he’s right, that it was possible, but she had worked herself up so much now that she had a hard time believing it. She takes a deep breath, “Just answer me this. Would you have given me a second glance if I hadn’t come up to you in that shop yesterday? Or a second thought if there hadn’t been the phone mishap?”

Harry is taken aback. Her words had nothing to do with what he had just said. He had thought his solution was actually really great, a plan he had been meaning to tell her if the rest of the day had gone accordingly, which it didn’t seem to be doing. He pauses and if Y/N was anymore distraught that would have been her cue to leave. Thankfully, she had grounded herself enough in the situation to not let her hot head get in the way of this conversation.

“That’s a pretty unfair question, Y/N. It’s not like I’m constantly looking for someone to fancy.”

“Just answer the questions.”

“Probably not, about the first one, I hadn’t even noticed anyone in the shop before you came up to me. I was off in my own world.” She nods, taking his words into account. He continues, “But yes, about the second one, I thought about you in the car ride home before your phone even rang. Like I said, I like you.”

“Okay.” She softens.

“That’s it?”

“I mean you’re right. We could see each other in London and see if this is something. I just had to know about the other stuff, it was racing through my mind and I wouldn’t get over it unless you gave me an answer.”

“Oh, so can I kiss you?” His words broke the uncomfortable tension that had surrounded them.

“You still want to?” Her voice is small and unsure. The most nervous she had been around Harry was right now.  

“I want to do so much more than that, darling, you have no idea.” He cups her cheek and wraps an arm around her waist. She giggles in nervous anticipation. Then his lips gently push onto hers and she sighs into the kiss. At the edge of the lake, the pair of them taste each other for the first time. Tongues begin licking into each other’s mouths and the kiss becomes breathless. Her hands are at the base of his neck, tugging him closer to her while he tightens his grasp around her waist. She moans slightly when Harry nips at her lower lip and he smirks, happy with the sound she makes.

“We should probably go get my phone.” Harry whimpers at her words.

“What?” Harry is once again confused by the woman before him, who had now pulled from their kiss.

“My phone is in your room…” She trails off and then eyes widen and he giggles excitedly. Eventually realizing what she’s implying.

“Yes! Yes, we should go do that. Get your phone. In my room. Sounds like a good idea. Mhmm.” He pecks her lips between each sentence.

“You’re so weird,” she laughs and brings down his shades onto her face once again. He pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head as they begin their walk back to the chateau.

“Do you want your phone or not?”

[matildashoney]

I can so see henny doing that. Could we maybe get a little blurb about that plz bestie 🥺👉👈

Harry and Amélie have taken Hensley to Italy for holiday before jetting off to France to meet with the Beneventini and Styles families for the holidays. Days are spent at the beach and around the little neighborhood where they've bought a villa, and Harry is obsessively making sure that Hensley is lathered in sunscreen and has enough water to stay hydrated as she hurries along the pathway and nearly dives face-first into the sand. Amélie can see the stress in his eyes and the way his forehead is crinkling with concern over their daughter scurrying a bit too far for comfort, so she calls her over and says, "Prends la main de Papa, Hensley."

Hensley immediately takes Harry's hand and they walk to their favorite spot on the corner of the beach, right by the water and out of sight from the public eye. Amélie sets their chairs upright on the sand, including a little one with an umbrella for their daughter, and a blanket to lay beneath them. Hensley reaches up for Harry to pick her up, and he does so easily, settling her on his hip as he continues walking through and to their destination, only setting her down when she can set her feet on the blanket.

Harry only finds days like this relaxing when Hensley is napping on his chest because, otherwise, he's monitoring her like a hawk and he is very high strung about what she's doing and where she's doing it. Amélie gives him reign over days like today, mainly because she trusts that whatever he does, he does with the best intention for their baby.

Hensley, on the other hand, wants to get into everything and anything, which includes the sand that gets on her fruit even though Harry's said multiple times not to eat it. Amélie says that there's nothing wrong and she can eat it and Harry is adamant she doesn't. Hensley, who finds this amusing, will tease the fruit at her lips and then put it away, or stick her hand in the sand to get it sandier.

Dramatics are always part of the Beneventini-Styles household, whether Harry wanted to admit it or not.

[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 7

Before Chapter Blurb

~

The Christmas tree Niall brought over last week lights up the living room in the early morning shade, the dark snow clouds outside leaving the house darker than usual. Daisy shakes off the snow on her boots and leaves them at the door, cold fingers clutching the letter she just retrieved from the mailbox. Harry’s neat writing has scribbled her name on the envelope, and the heart he placed next to it makes her tummy flutter. She hooks her nail under the seal, tearing it open and unfolding his letter with hopeful eyes.

Dear Daisy,

How's the weather back home? I hope it hasn't been too brutal on you. Remember that one winter it snowed so much everyone got trapped inside their homes? I don't think that'll happen but if the snow picks up too much please call my mum over or go stay with her. I really don't want you home alone during a snow storm. Funny that I told you not to worry about me but here I am fretting over the idea of a blizzard, aye?

Anyway, nothing has been set in stone for my Christmas plans yet, however, a buddy of mine is returning home for the holidays and he's heard word that I might be at home as well. No matter I promise you'll have the best Christmas, I'll do everything in my power to make sure. I'm sure my mum has told you but you're welcome to her annual Christmas party whether I'm there or not. Gemma will be there and she'll take care of you. Speaking of taking care of you, I've heard from a little birdie that you're thinking of using your own hard earned money for gifts this year. While I find that incredibly sweet, I can't allow it. Daisy, you know you can always use our money for anything. I also need to send gifts and it would really be much more simple if you just used the card and then signed my name as well. And if you don't agree with that, too bad. I've contacted my uncle and he's told the local shops to not accept cash from you. Yes, even all the way in France I'm taking care of you. Promised I would, didn't I?

The money you've got from working is yours Daisy. I honestly find it wonderful and inspiring that you've gone out and found work and are able to take care of yourself. I reckon more ladies in our town should be like you. I also reckon you take your earnings and buy something for yourself, something you've always wanted. I know you love reading, and I know Robin has got a couple could bookstores in mind. I'm sure he'd be happy to point you in the direction of them if that's something you'd like. Don't have much time for reading here so maybe you could read a couple good novels for me and then tell me all about them? It's the least you could do really considering that I'm playing knight in shining armor for you.

Hopefully next time we talk I'll have more news about Christmas for you, but remember that you're always in my thoughts. I see your eyes sparkle in the lights and tinsel around town. I see snowflakes melting on the apples of your cheeks and sticking to your eyelashes. I feel your hands when I warm up next to the fire. I feel the same joy you carry in the spirit of Christmas that surrounds me. In some ways I think you and I are a lot like winter. The bitter bite in the air and the soothing heat of cocoa. The hibernation of creatures, the death of plants, and the pureness and rebirth of snow. I could go on forever about you and I Daisy, but I think I'll save the rest of my affection for in person.

Happy holidays love,

The Harry Styles x

~

Daisy had never been so disappointed in her life. Not even when her family threw her out of the house and into the arms of Harry to be cared for. Maybe this is so much worse than being let down by her parents because Harry actually did care for her. She doesn't know what changed between the time she moved in and now, but something inside both her and Harry went from disgust to attraction. She can feel it her bones when she thinks of him. How much she aches for him, how much her lips miss saying his name. It's even present in their letters to each other. They're thoughtful of each other, loving towards one another. They've spent more time apart than they have married and yet she thinks they're more dedicated to each other than any other couple in this town.

Unable to hide her sadness over Harry still being overseas despite Christmas being a few days away, Daisy decided to not spend tonight with Anne. She'll be there for Christmas Eve, thinking of how Harry should be there too, so tonight is just time for her. She'd found a copy Pride and Prejudice a few days ago in the office downstairs, deciding to read it again as it's one of her favorite stories. Harry's probably read it before but she'll still write her thoughts on the book to him.

He's all she can think about as she curls up in his bed, the thick quilt his grandmother had made him wrapped around her shoulders. Bedside lamp still on, Daisy falls asleep wondering if she should tell Harry that he very much reminds her of Mr. Darcy. Of course that would make her Elizabeth and she really can't think of a more romantic representation of their affection for each other.

~

The spare key under the loose brick in the front hasn't been moved, though it is buried and frozen by snow. His car has been moved into the garage to be protected from the weather and the vibrant green of his front yard is now a white wonderland, lit up by multicolored lights. Harry can't help but hate how much has changed without him. He wasn't there to put up lights, wasn't there to winterize the grass, wasn't there to salt the sidewalk. Fearing what else might have changed while he was gone, particularly Daisy, Harry's hand trembles as he unlocks the front door.

He stays as quiet as can be as he moves into the house, dropping his bag by the closed door and re-locking it. His train ticket was a late departure, but he won't complain. Better to get home late than not at all. Peeling off his wet boots and coat, Harry drops them into a pile on the floor. The Christmas tree Niall had cut down for him is still gleaming in the living room, lighting the path towards Daisy's bedroom. Maybe Harry should go upstairs and change, wash away his time in France before he goes searching for his girl, but he's exhausted and aching for her. It's not until he's tiptoed down the hall and nudged her door open does it dawn on him that Daisy could be at his mother's house. He knows she's been sleeping there a lot and there'd be no reason for her to come home tonight because he didn't tell her that he was coming home.

Heart sinking lower into his stomach as he checks for her in every available spot downstairs, Harry dejectedly yanks on the plug of Christmas lights, bathing the house back into darkness. He's heading back to the door to put his boots and coat back on when he catches the sliver of yellow light coming down the staircase. Pushing himself up the stairs, his heart leaps back into his chest when he reaches the landing and finds his own bedroom door open. From here he can see his bedside table with the lamp still on and a lump under his blankets. She's here. Daisy's home and she's in his bed. On the side he sleeps on and everything.

Harry's quick to cut across the hallway, stepping into his bedroom. Lightly, he closes the distance between him and the bed. He can barely see Daisy from how she's wrapped herself up in his blankets, one arm hanging out with his copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting loosely in her palm. He perches his bum on the little space between her and the edge, carefully removing the book from her palm and placing it on his bedside table. Peeling back the blankets she's snuggled under, Harry's heart leaps when he finally her beautiful face. Still sleeping soundly, lips mushed into his pillow with the smallest bit of drool staining the side of her mouth. He desperately wants to just strip off his uniform and climb into bed with her in nothing but his pants, wants to feel her on his skin after so long of sleeping alone on an army cot, but he can't. He'd hate if she woke up and was uncomfortable, if he made her uncomfortable, so he silently returns to his feet and slips into the closet.

Remaining in the doorway, just so he can still be able to see Daisy, Harry leaves his uniform in a mess of green fabric on the floor and quickly slips into a set of pajamas. The wood floor is cold on his toes but he ignores it in favor of getting back to her as quickly as possible. Harry pauses, eyeing the side of the bed that's completely open for him but he doesn't want to sleep there. He wants to curl up on his side, lay his head on the same pillow Daisy's is on, share such an intimate space with her again because he surely took it for granted that night he left. He should've held her tighter, should've stayed awake longer just to have more time with her. He should've memorized how it felt to feel her hands on him and how she's the heaviest sleeper he's ever met. He just should've done more for her.

He's not going to waste anymore time.

Pulling back the blankets, enough to expose Daisy to the cooler air of the bedroom, Harry lies himself next to her. She remains as still as a statue, but he notices that as soon as his feet brush hers it's like she fully relaxes. As if she were having a bad dream or uncomfortable and his presence next to her has brought that fragile peace needed for a good nights sleep. His heart swells at the thought of her subconsciously needing him like he needs her, and it takes all his strength to reach over and turn out the light instead of throwing himself on top of her and kissing her until they suffocate. He reckons that'd be a great way to go but he's not ready for that. He's still got so much of himself to give and share with her.

Perhaps he was right when he told her the heart grows fonder with distance, because never in a million years would he imagine his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he wraps himself around Daisy, body fitting to hers like it belongs there.

Home.

~

Daisy's first reaction upon waking up to loud snores and a heavy weight around her middle was to poke her fingers into the strangers closed eyes and definitely knee him in the groin, and then hopefully be quick enough to get to the neighbors for help. That is until her bleary eyes focus on the face in front of her. His strong jaw, the frown that's always on his face, even when he sleeps, and the mess of curls on the pillow. His face is a little slimmer in the cheeks and his hair shorter (and a little greasy at the roots) but he's still handsome. He's still Harry.

Her vision blurs again, this time with tears on her waterline, and she reaches up to cup his jaw, afraid this is just part of a dream. "Harry?" She whispers, heart pounding on her chest. A little short cuts off his snores, pink lips smacking together and he wiggles further into the mattress before falling still again. It's really him. He's really home. He's somehow made it back to her and climbed into their bed at God knows what hour without even waking her. She can't help but mentally curse him, wishing she had known sovsge could've met him at the train station with hot tea. He must have been freezing when he got home last night. The least she could've done was gone to pick him up.

"Harry? Will you please wake up?"

Luckily for Daisy, he's a bit of light sleeper, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone being enough to peel his eyes open. He blinks twice, eyebrows pinching together as his sleepy eyes flicker over her face.

"I'm sleeping." He grumbles, eyes closing again but Daisy doesn't care if he's annoyed or mad at her for waking him. She missed him too much to care so she pushes him onto his back, throwing her body over his and worming her hands under his neck. Harry grunts under her weight, lifting his head to adjust the way she's holding him before falling back into the pillows with a soft sigh.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you say anything you prick? You scared me to death!" His lips curl up at her words, obviously pleased at getting a rise out of her by not giving her all the information about him coming home.

"I scared ya?" He mumbles incredulously, "Came home to find your room empty, thought you'd somehow got frozen outside trying to sneak to my mum's and then I find ya in my bed? Scared me more, I reckon."

Daisy leans back, hoping to get another look at his beautiful eyes after so long of not seeing them but he's still pretending sleep when she looks down at his face. "How'd ya know I've been going to your mum's?"

She blows on him in attempt to annoy him enough to open his eyes, to just please look at her but he remains stubborn, squeezing them shut. "She wrote me." He answers simply, the thickness of his voice catching her off guard. Squinting curiously, she notices his Adam's apple bob nervously, and his teeth take in his bottom lip.

"Harry?" Daisy murmurs, releasing her right hand from it's spot under his neck to place it over his chest. She's shocked by how fast it's pounding, how his shoulders have tensed up. "Are you okay Harry?"

His nose scrunches, his eyes closing even tighter, features twisting as if he's in pain. He nods just once, a trembling breath leaving his flaring nostrils. Daisy doesn't know everything about Harry, not yet, but she knows that he's not okay. That he's holding something back and she's so worried that maybe he's hurt, that something happened in France and he's been sent home because he's injured, that a sudden knot lodges itself in her throat.

Her words are croaky and strained. "Can I see you Harry? Please?" She begs, trailing her hand up his collarbones to cup his jaw. "I haven't seen you in so long."

Silence. Not a word from him. Not even a shake or nod of his head. Harry remains twisted up, refusing to look at her, to speak to her.

"I miss you Harry. I miss you so much."

Her words push him over, his arms flying up to wrap around her and he sits up to hold her to his chest. She can't see him like this either but it doesn't matter because he's shaking and sniffling, the cries he was holding back finally breaking through. Daisy wraps her arms around his waist, her own eyes welling up with tears again at the sound of him whimpering.

"I miss you love. More than you'll ever know. Don't think I can go back now that I've got you again." Harry's rambling under his breath, soft sentiments of everything he missed, every little reminder of her that tormented him in France. She thinks he might be influenced by drowsiness but that doesn't stop her from pulling back enough to finally see his eyes. Even red rimmed and leaking, shining with longing and pain, they're the most breath taking color. They're eyes only meet for a moment before she's sealing her lips to his.

It's refreshing to feel his mouth again. Like warming up by the fire after making the wall home from the bakery. Like the sight of gooey chocolate chip cookies being broke in half, melted chocolate still connecting the two pieces. Like waking up to a fresh coat of snow in the morning, untouched by feet and vehicles and sleds. Like stockings resting over a fire. Like the silence that sits between them when he reads and she crochets.

Somewhere deep in her heart, it registers to Daisy that this is what home feels like.

~

Robin's a fairly short man, not that Daisy had noticed until Harry's standing next to him in the bakery, an old apron of the owners barely reaching his thighs. The knot in the back is the smallest possible knot she could tie because Harry's training has beefed him up quiet a bit and Robin's a very thin man. She doesn't know what it is, if it's the fact that it's so overwhelming to have him back again he just seems so much bigger than he used to, or if she somehow didn't notice how much he towers over everyone until now, but Daisy feels like a flower in the shadow of Big Ben next to him. It's both intimidating and soothing at the same time, but that's just Harry's brand she supposes.

"It's really not necessary for you to spend the day here." Robin repeats, digging through the orders for today. Daisy knows he's got a lot to bake today seeing as he closed for the holidays starting tomorrow and plenty of families need their baked goods for their celebrations. She promised to be here to help and even Harry's surprise drop in isn't going to ruin her word.

"Don't be silly Robin. We want to be here." Daisy assures, washing her hands so she can begin making the dough for the first order of dinner rolls. Harry looks a bit lost as Robin pins up the orders on the cork board and Daisy gets cooking. She's never seen Harry not completely own the whole room before and seeing him watching her curiously is oddly cute.

Robin puts Harry to work the counter and wrap up orders, much to his disliking seeing as he's not the socialist of butterflies, but he doesn't complain. Not even when Jacqueline Haverhill is utterly rude to him, glaring at him throughout the whole transaction. Daisy doesn't exactly know what Harry did to bother Jacqueline but she guesses it's probably something similar to his interaction with Mrs. Weathers.

As the day goes on, the orders get sent out, and a soft trickle of snow begins outside, Daisy notices that Harry's really good at wrapping the orders. He's precise about cutting the wrap and his bows of ribbons are perfect and the card with the order name is always written in a neat, slanted cursive. She can't help but imagine a Christmas Eve night in which her and Harry are both sat awake in the dead of the night, Harry wrapping gifts for a child that's asleep on the floor above them, scribbling their name on the gift tag and signing it from Santa Claus. He's got the perfect writing for that of the holiday icon. And then he'd hand the pretty package over for Daisy to place nicely under their tree.

Something in her stomach twists, realizing for the first time that she's imagined herself actually being a mother to his children. Of course she's thought about how good of a father he'd be, but she's never had such a vivid picture of the two of them parenting. It's such a shocking and sweet moment that she can't help but wipe the flour on her hands off on her apron, tentatively approaching Harry as he piles the two orders of cakes next to each other. He pauses when she walks over, mouth opening to question her but he doesn't get a chance to before she's pressing herself into his large chest, arms finding their way around his waist.

Harry freezes just for a moment, obviously caught off guard, but then he's wrapping his own arms around her shoulders and squeezing her a bit tighter. Daisy doesn't know what to say as reasoning for her suddenly wanting to hold him but Harry luckily doesn't question her. Maybe he's just as desperate for her as she is for him. Robin doesn't say anything to the two, simply smiling to himself as he watches Harry's eyes flutter close, resting his cheek on top of her head. Harry's not an affectionate person, most often he's rather cold, but he looks perfectly at home holding Daisy the way he is. Like he needs her to breathe.

"Hello hello!" Anne interrupts as she enters the bakery, Daisy opening her eyes just in time to see her brilliant smile drop into one of shock. Her gloved hands cup her mouth, eyes watering at the sight of Harry standing in the bakery when she'd been under the impression that he was still in France.

"Hello mum." Harry greets casually, lifting his head as Daisy pulls away. She catches the grin on his face, resembling the cat that got the canary as he moves around the counter. "How are ya?" He spreads his arms wide, blocky teeth sinking into plush lip. Anne visibly trembles, dropping her hands from her mouth to swing her handbag at him. Daisy giggles at Harry's flinch and the way his entire face scrunches into a childish pout.

"Oh you bugger!" Anne scolds wetly, smacking him one more time before finally accepting a hug from him. Daisy's chest expands with her growing heart at the image of Harry holding his wailing mother, stroking his fingers through his mother's dark hair while assuring her that he's fine. Like Daisy, she must have thought Harry is back due to injury or illness.

"Got home late last night mum, didn't want to wake you." He explains when she curses him for not stopping the minute he returned. "Didn't even wake Daisy. She came after me the same way too."

That same thickness that had taken over his voice this morning clouds his words, and the imagine of his tortured eyes makes Daisy nauseous. She distracts herself with wrapping up Anne's order of biscuits for the Christmas party tomorrow. Of course that doesn't stop her from listening in on the two, heart turning to mush at the sweet interaction between mother and son.

"I can't believe you're here Harry! And look how big and handsome you've gotten!"

"Was I not handsome before?" Harry's time is teasing but a quick glance at him and she can see the genuine curiosity in his slightly offended gaze.

"Of course you were ya goose! But you look awful proper with ya hair short and all." Anne continues to gush over him, fawning over the dusting of stubble on his jaw and how's he's too big for even the apron and how she better watch out or she'll have Goliath for a son. Daisy thinks it's a bit cheesy, Anne's compliments to him. Maybe a bit exaggerated too but then she catches the blush on Harry's cheeks and the boyish glint of pride in his green eyes, and she understands. Harry's a mumma's boy. He's eating up Anne's attention and fawning over him like a dog posing for treats.

Harry enjoys being doted on. Flattered. Babied even. There's something about that revelation that stirs in her stomach, warming her entire being.

Robin slides up next to Daisy, mixing bowl in the crook of his arm and whisking the batter in it. He nods towards Anne and Harry, a bashful smile on his face. "Don't charge her, alright?"

Daisy supposes it's because Robin's always known Harry's family, cares for them. And seeing the heart warming reunion between Anne and Harry, she's not surprised at all that he's dropped the charge. Robin's a nice man and he's got a soft spot for Harry, therefore having one for Harry's loved ones as well.

She looks back at him, biting back a smile when she sees him press a sweet kiss to the top of his mother's head, and she's so darn lucky to have a place in his life.

~

Soldiers wear their uniforms when they go out. At least that's what the ones in the pub do. Daisy thinks it's to pick up girls seeing as every available lady in town is eager to flatter a serving man, and all the ones in here do have a girl or two attached to them, stroking the collars of their jackets and praising the ribbons and metals pinned to them.

Harry removes his long army green coat, draping it over his arm before reaching to help Daisy our of her white one. He didn't wear his uniform and she's quite glad for it. Of course Harry would probably scare away any girl that came near him and she'd definitely enjoy seeing it but she doesn't want to see anyone try to get his attention anyway. She just got him back and she's not sharing at all.

"This way Daisy." Harry guides, a warm hand on the small of her back. Two of Harry's army friends, a man named Pip who he roomed with, and another named Oliver were also allowed home for a visit. Both men were from the same town and enjoyed Harry's company enough to offer a meet up halfway between their town and Daisy's and Harry's.

The table closest to the bar and furthest from the dance floor is where Harry's mates are sat, and just like him, they're not in uniform either. However, they do have women with them and Daisy guesses that that's the reason they're dressed down. They don't need to impress or brag because they've got birds.

"Aye Harry!" The tallest man cheers loudly through a slight slur, slamming his hand on the table next to his pint. The girl with him, a lanky and slim brunette halfheartedly shushes him but it falls on deaf ears as he scrambles from his seat to greet Harry.

They exchange hugs, Harry clapping him on the back quite hard in a way that makes Daisy wince, but the man must be used to Harry hitting him like that because he just grins and smacks Harry's chest in return. "Is this ya girl Harry?" He questions when his blue eyes catch Daisy hovering behind Harry. She smiles politely, blushing when Harry reaches back for her hand.

"S'my Daisy, alright." He murmurs with a proud nod, pulling her into his side. "Daisy, this is Oliver and that quiet bloke in the back is Pip." Harry gestures the man still sat at the table, sharing a warm drink with the blonde next to him, who judging by the ring on her finger, is Pip's wife.

"Hello," Daisy greets, accepting a hand shake from Oliver. Harry leads her closer to the table, letting her pick a seat before settling himself next to her. She ends up by the blonde, nodding when she introduces herself as May. Harry leans over to gruffly shake hands with Pip, his arm on the back of her chair and warm chest against her shoulder. Oliver's girl says her name is Molly, and Daisy can't help but think that May and Molly are the prettiest names for two friends like them. She supposes Summer and Daisy are pretty good too.

"Would you like a drink love?" Harry murmurs in her ear, interrupting her thoughts with his warm breath. She nods gently, receiving a tender kiss on her cheek before Harry's on his feet and heading towards the bar. Daisy watches him, enjoying the way his white trousers cling to his peachy bum. She's dragged out of her admiring by Pip.

"When Harry told us he's got a bird back home, I never expected him to have someone so quiet and sweet."

Daisy giggles nervously, pushing her hair behind her ear when Oliver nods his agreement. "Big grumpy lad like him, was expecting someone like my bloody Aunt Cecil." Pip and Oliver chortle drunkenly, Molly chuckling before turning to Daisy.

"Aunt Cecil is the most terrible woman I've ever met. Very braggy when she's not even got anything to brag about!" Molly's obvious distaste makes Oliver laugh louder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"Terrible," he agrees with a sigh, "but I think it's right fitting that Harry have you with him. A bit of balance eh?"

"He definitely looks less brutish with a little thing like you on his arm." Pip agrees, "Proper cute you are." May repeats his words, smiling sweetly at Daisy. Not knowing what exactly to say, she’s grateful when Harry returns with her drink and a beer for him. When he settles back into his chair, his arm returns to it’s spot around her shoulders. Daisy relaxes into his touch, remembering all the girls here that would definitely try to win his attention, and she beams with pride at the fact that he’s hers.

Oliver and Pip start up a conversation of what they missed most about home. Pip swears he’ll never find better cooking than the meals May makes, practically on the verge of tears as he dramatically declares his love for her beef stew. Oliver laughs, scrunching his nose when he says he missed the smell of home. Paris, he thinks, smells of cigarette smoke and too much perfume. Daisy’s not sure what she was expecting Harry to say, maybe that he missed his comfortable mattress or his novels, but she’s not expecting him to shrug and wholeheartedly say her name.

Her heart swells, ears burning as Molly and May coo. She catches Harry’s bashful gaze, grinning as she pecks his pink lips as tenderly as she can. For a moment they’re stuck in a lover’s bubble, gooey eyes and shy grins, but it’s quickly shattered by Pip’s groan and mouth.

“Excellent choice Styles,” he approves, “Nothing like coming home to shag and love on your wife, aye?” That’s followed by a holler from Oliver, and the clanking of beer bottles. She watches Harry’s eyes widen, and he turns to them with a laugh that doesn’t really sound like him. They take his sip of his beer as joining in on their celebration of sex. The heat in her face grows, spreading to her belly and Daisy suddenly wishes they’d stayed home tonight so she could have had Harry all to herself.

~

She's changed into her night gown, sitting with her legs folded on Harry's bed and peeking into the bathroom while he brushes the alcohol of the night off his tongue. Harry's only put on pajama pants, leaving his torso fair game for her eyes to roam over. It's odd not feeling like she's prying by ogling him but she can't get the words of his friends off her mind.

"Nothing like coming home to shag and love on your wife, aye?"

He is her husband. She's devoted herself to him for the rest of her life, willingly, and she doesn't even remember why she was so upset about being Harry's in the first place. He's thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and so very handsome. It feels silly that she ever looked at him and hated him, because right now all she wants is him.

Daisy's never shagged anyone. The only person she's ever kissed is Harry save for a few cheek kisses from boys throughout the years. She can't help but look at Harry and wonder if he has. He's obviously attractive, every girl in town has wanted him at some point in their lives, but she's never heard anything about Harry wanting them. Up until that night her parents dropped the marriage bomb on her, she kind of assumed Harry would always just be Harry.

There was one rumor though, she recalls, coming up when she was about sixteen. A girl named Lucille had been the center of it, everyone claiming she'd lost her virginity too young to a boy at the summer party always thrown at her house. No one cared about the boy because the real spice of the rumor was Lucille having sex outside of wedlock, but the boy mattered to Daisy because it was Harry. At least that's what Summer had heard from someone. She remembers how awful she had felt hearing that, having to leave school early because her stomach was doing an awful job at holding down her lunch. At the time she thought it was just a disgust at the thought of anyone, especially someone as sweet as Lucille, sleeping with someone as rude as Harry.

But now, watching him lean over the sink to rinse his mouth, shoulders rippling as he moves, Daisy thinks she was jealous. She wasn't disgusted that Lucille slept with Harry, no, she was disgusted that Harry had slept with Lucille. She was absolutely put off by the fact that Harry hadn't come to her. Because he was always going after her. Always teasing, always picking, always embarrassing. Why was that time the exception?

"Harry?" His name is out of her lips before she can even rationally think about what she's wanting to ask him, and when he exits the bathroom with a soft "wha'sa matter?" her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Instinctively, her hands reach to the bottom of the bed for the crochet blanket, fingers wiggling through the stitches in attempt to calm her suddenly pounding heart. Deciding that there's no possible way for her to ignore her curiosity nor how much she wants to feel his skin under her fingertips, she quickly spits out her question.

"Do you miss shagging?"

For a moment, Daisy thinks Harry might be mad. There's a flash in his eyes, one of annoyance and frustration, and she can feel an apology building on her tongue when Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed by her.

"What's got this on your mind Daisy?"

She feels a bit like a child with the tone he uses, as if he thinks she's repeating something she'd heard on the playground and knew nothing about before inquiring about it. "Pip and Ollie mentioned it, and well, you sort of laughed but it was different. I was just wondering, I don't know. We don't really speak about personal things but I don't want you, I don't know, suffering because you think I'm clueless or-"

Harry interrupts her with a sharp call of her name, cutting off her defensive ramble. His hands reach up to untangle her fingers from the blanket, holding them in his own. Thumbs brushing over the back of her hands, his usually stoic expression breaks into a fond gaze. "First of all, I want you to know that I would never want you to do that based off the belief that you think m'suffering or whatever other bloody nonsense your mother has put in that head of yours."

Daisy's ears burn, embarrassed by the mention of her mother because Harry's spot on. She's always grown up hearing that as a wife, she does whatever her husband requests of her, no questions asked. But beneath that layer of embarrassment, is another source of heat, begging for her to just lean over and smear her mouth to his.

"Second," he continues "I don't need shagging Daisy. If we talked about it and both wanted to that'd be a different story but I promise you that I don't wake up every morning and curse the world because I've still not made love to you." His sentence is punctured with a shy giggle, one she's never heard come out of his mouth and it makes her heart swoop pleasantly. Harry's cute, she tells herself while mentally adding to the list of new things she's learned about her husband in just a few days of having him home.

"Ok Harry." She agrees, even more flustered at his compassion towards her and the subject of sex. "I suppose I just got caught off guard when Pip said how much he missed it while he was away and I didn't want you to feel that way too. You're already in a trying situation and that's the last thing I want."

Daisy moves closer to him when his dimples sink into the plushness of his cheeks, lips shining when he runs his tongue over them in attempt to hide the boyish smile on his face. "Want to hear a secret?" He finally whispers, dropping his gaze to where his hands are still tenderly holding hers. Daisy mutters a yes, eager to know something personal about Harry.

He clears his throat gently, shaking his head as if he's mentally scolding himself for whatever information he's holding inside his head. When he does finally speak, his voice is so quiet she wouldn't have heard it had it not been for how closely together they're sat.

"I can't miss something I never had."

It takes another moment for his words to register in her mind but when they do she could jump in elation. Of course she'd never judge Harry for having already had sex but she's so utterly relieved to know that she's not alone in her inexperience. She can't fight the grin that pulls at her lips, Harry rolling his eyes when he glances up through thick lashes to gauge her reaction.

He looks so shy, so tentative about what she might say to his secret and for the first time since she's known him, confidence surges through her. She squeezes his hand, pushing her shoulders back as she nonchalantly replies, "Neither can I, but I can yearn for it."

Harry's head snaps up at her words, eyes bright and big with surprise. Pink lips dropped open in disbelief, Daisy refuses to shy away from his prodding gaze because she knows what she said is truthful. Why can't she finally shag Harry? She's married to him and she trusts him, and if the admittance that she was jealous of Lucille is anything to go by, she's wanted Harry for a lot longer than she thought.

"Daisy," Harry utters, voice strained and rough in his throat. It sends shivers up her spine. "you're gonna have to give me more than that if you want something darling."

Before any unpleasant nerves can take over, she complies. "I've never slept with anyone before either but I would sh-I want to do that with you. If you want to."

His fingers are gentle but persistent as they trail up her exposed arms, Harry's eyes remaining on hers for any sign of reluctance or regret. He reaches the sleeves of her nightgown, fingertips dipping under the fabric and when she steadily maintains eye contact, he knows that's he's fully got the go-ahead. She can tell by the simper that lifts his lips and the sudden darkness in his eyes. Harry pushes himself onto his knees, face leaning in so close to hers his minty breath blows the baby hairs out of her face. Daisy allows herself to be guided back by his wide shoulders and bulging chest, eyes growing heavy under his heated gaze as her head meets the pillows.

"Are you certain Daisy?" Harry murmurs, checking once again. His thoughtfulness for her feelings and emotions is endearing and overwhelming, bringing a sudden sting to the back of her eyes. Daisy nods, reaching up to hold the side of his face, and tilting her chin up to brush their lips together.

"There's no other person I'd want to do this with Harry, and there's no other time that would be as perfect for a first time as right now." Harry's breathing grows heavier at her words, and while she usually struggles to read his gaze, tonight's different. She can see it in his eyes too, that burning need and passion that she can feel in her chest as well. "Besides, this is usually a wedding night activity so we're quite behind Mr. Styles."

The smirk that lifts her lips brings elation to his eyes, his dimples making an appearance with a smirk of his own. "If that's the case, reckon I should carry on, aye Mrs. Styles?"

She manages one feeble nod before his mouth is fully on hers, leaning all his weight onto his right elbow while his left hand drops down to her waist. He holds there for a moment, strong, nimble fingers a reassuring weight on her skin while she takes the time to run her own fingers over his exposed skin. The dips of his muscles and the heat of his body is enthralling, drawing her in before reducing her to mush.

The heat in Daisy's belly is searing, a fire burning so strongly she thinks she might melt into a puddle on the bed, soaking into the fabric of Harry's sheets to stay there for the rest of eternity. She's not sure what's warmer, the arousal in her core or the heat wafting off of Harry. Possibly Harry because she's never seen him like this. He's never looked so big, so manly, so strong while somehow also being so soft and sweet. This is the Harry she likes, the Harry she hopes is around for the rest of their lives. Calloused hands on her waist, eagerly pulling up the fabric of her clothes, prompting her to lift her bum so he can get the gown up around her waist.

Knickers visible to not only the chilly room, but Harry as well, goosebumps prickle her skin and her heart thumps erratically in her chest. Harry's large palm continues to trail up her body, exposing more of her skin inch by inch. His hips settle between her thighs, the soft skin of his belly brushing against hers. Daisy's never felt his skin on her like this and a wave of arousal pulses between her thighs. There's a bit of struggle with getting the nightgown over her head, Harry not wanting to release her bottom lip from between his teeth but eventually sacrificing the kiss to get her naked.

He sits back on his haunches, tossing her clothes over his shoulder as his eyes drink in every inch of her heated body. His fingers trail up her legs, brushing over her hips in a teasing manner as they follow an unmarked path to her naked chest.

“Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen, ya know that?” Harry murmurs against the corner of her lips, tentatively cupping the supple flesh and watching her face intently. Experimentally pinching his fingers into her skin, his eyes twinkle when the first shuttering moan breaks through Daisy’s lips. “Feel good?”

Nodding, she grips his arms for stability in the swirling mess of heat and desperation that’s taken over her body. She’s always been fairly quiet, but Harry’s touch is so comforting and exciting, she doesn’t hesitate to whine impatiently. “Thought you were getting a move on it Styles?” He quirks an eyebrow at her response, fingers pausing for a moment before he scolds her with a gentle tug on her nipple that sucks the air out of her lungs.

Harry slips off the bottom of the bed, shaking his head just once. “I’ll hurry Daisy, but I want ya calling me Harry tonight. Not Styles,” his eyes meet hers with a warning glare in them, daring her to argue. Something about his dominance has more wetness pooling between her spread legs, dampening the cotton fabric of her underwear. “Want to hear just my name from you.”

She nods again, so quickly her brain rattles around in her head but her eagerness is rewarding because Harry smirks and hooks his thumbs in his only two layers, tugging them down in on go. He kicks them off his ankle but Daisy barely catches the movement because her eyes are stuck on his stiff member. Red and thick, the head of him bobs up by his belly button and smears the clear liquid leaking out of him against the sprinkle of hair that leads between his thighs. Harry stands like a Greek sculpture, one hand on his lean hip and the other tangled in his unruly hair. His body glows in the soft light of the lamp, illuminating the layer of sweat that glistens on his muscles. Her eyes land on his thighs, gnawing on her bottom lip as she realizes how thick and pretty his legs are. She finds herself wishing it was the meat on the inside of his leg that were between her teeth instead of her own lip.

“Harry,” his name leaves her mouth in a sinful whimper, thighs subconsciously opening wider as if inviting him to dive between them. She sees his cock twitch at her call, his eyes fluttering for a brief second before he’s leaning over her again, hands on the sides of her knickers.

“May I?” He requests in a whisper, smiling brightly when she moves her hands to push his down, taking her underwear with them until she too is spread out bare on his sheets. Their mouth meet again, Harry’s cock a heavy weight on her lower tummy, twitching at every soft moan that he swallows off her tongue.

“Do you have protection?” She questions, breaking their kiss. Harry freezes, and a heavy weight settles in her chest as his eyes fly open and his forehead creases in thought. After a few seconds his eyes light up with hope, leaning off the side of the bed to dig through his drawer. The little packet containing the condom is pinched between his fingers as he comes back to her, eyes squinting as he checks the date on it.

“Thank god for Niall taking the piss out of me with this, huh?” Harry says, an eager and excited lilt in his voice. Daisy giggles, pushing his floppy hair off his forehead as he opens the rubber and rolls it down his prick.

“Who’s laughing now.” She responds, fingers digging into his shoulders when the covered head of him probes at her opening. Harry cups her face with his free hand, naked chests brushing against each other, and he smiles like a boy on Christmas morning. He doesn’t push into her though, instead presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You still comfortable with this Daisy?” His breath is hot on her face, but soothing. And when she nods and whispers, “absolutely” she knows it’s 100% the truth. That’s all Harry needs before he’s flexing his hips forward, nudging her slick folds apart with his thick tip. The initial sting makes her flinch, a grunt leaving Harry’s clenched teeth as he she clamps around the few inches he’s managed to sink in. His forehead drops to her shoulder, arm shaking but he doesn’t rush her into taking all of him. No, instead he waits for her muscles to relax, easing up on his cock and the way her body melts into his brings tears to Harry eyes.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” Harry encourages, voice raspy with the effort it’s taking him to keep from bursting already. He wants to, needs to make Daisy feel good. He wants her to know that he’ll worship her for the rest of his life. “Already feel like heaven around me.”

With sweet words and tender smears of his mouth against hers, Harry finally sinks balls deep into Daisy. The feeling brings similar moans from both of them, a peaceful aura of completion settling around them. Daisy’s never felt this before. Like her body could just float up into heaven if it weren’t for Harry’s broad frame draped over her. Like he’s a limb she never knew she was missing but now that it’s here, she can’t imagine ever being empty again. She loves it, loves him.

“You’re so big Harry.” Daisy admits, bashfully meeting his gaze. Harry pants a choked moan into her face, steadying himself before pulling his hips back and slipping forward into her warmth once again.Her compliments seem to drive him, spurring him on, and she recalls how he’d melted under affection at the bakery the other day. Grinning softly, she latches her legs around his hips and lovingly runs her hands over his spine.

“Feels so bloody good,” Harry mutters, most likely talking to himself. Daisy’s chest swells with pride, gasping when the head of him nudges deep in her belly, tightening the string in her abdomen.

Attaching her lips to his jaw, Daisy breathes her own adoration. “Making me feels so good Harry, want to feel you forever.” The whimper that escapes him makes her core flutter, squeezing him tighter. Like she predicted, the compliment creates something feral in him, the pace of his thrusts picking up the slightest bit.

“Yeah? You want me to keep my cock in you all the time? Show you how fucking well I’m going to take care of you for the rest of our lives?”

The revelation that Harry’s got a dirty mouth brings her closer to the edge, whimpering out more agreements to all of his filthy promises. He drives his cock into her deeper, quick but strong ruts of his hips that stretch her open so well. After a particularly vulgar promise from Harry, a declaration that he’ll spend the remainder of the war fucking his fist to the memory of making love to her, Daisy smashes her mouth back to his, teeth clashing and tongues colliding as the string in her belly snaps. His name leaves her in a quiet chant, encouraged by his thumb reaching between them to rub at her clit and the deep rasps of “Yes Daisy, cum for me, say my name, my name....”

Her velvet heat pulsing around him sends him spiraling, filling the condom with his hot cum as his body trembles and shakes over her. Daisy encourages him as well, shyly thrusting her hips up to meet his sloppy thrusts and nibbling on his jaw. Cock still twitching in her, Harry drops all his weight so she’s basically trapped under him. Not that she minds of course. Daisy loves the feeling of holding him, petting at his damp hair and rubbing her toes over his calf soothingly. It takes Harry a minute to return to earth, lifting his head and blinking sluggishly. He looks utterly breathtaking, pink cheeks and swollen lips, gleaming eyes and dimples as he takes her mouth back with his.

Daisy never imagined she’d end up here with Harry, but she’d never want to be anywhere else now, and she supposes this was the feeling Harry was talking about when he described home. It’s not a home, it’s a person, and she’s somehow ended up with the best one.

[vitvliyv]

                 - ̗̀   HSHQTASK036: RUSSIAN NOBILITY   ̖́-

RUSSIA is divided into 84 duchies. all 84 duchies are inside 9 grand duchies all of which are governed by a duke or a duchess that is appointed by the tsar. the title of a grand duke or grand duchess cannot be inherited. the grand duke or duchess is chosen from “regular” dukes and duchesses. all members of the imperial family carry the title of grand duke or grand duchess despite not governing a grand duchy. all members of the imperial family have their own duchies though. map under the cut & the blurbs !

                               - ̗̀   THE GRAND DUCHIES    ̖́-

TURQUOISE: the grand duchy of northwestern russia. YELLOW: the grand duchy of central russia. PINK: the grand duchy of southern russia. LILAC: the grand duchy of north caucasian russia. GREEN: the grand duchy of volga. BEIGE: the grand duchy of ural. BLUE: the grand duchy of siberia. ORANGE: the grand duchy of far eastern russia. not pictured: the grand duchy of finland, north west of the grand duchy of northwestern russia.

( don’t talk to me about the quality of these photos idk how to use ps okay 😭😭😭 )

OKSANA FILATOVA, the 42 year old duchess of ARKHANGELSK and the grand duchess of NORTHWESTERN RUSSIA who resembles JESSICA CHASTAIN

the filatova family is the latest addition into russian nobility. oksana was given her title by alexei when the former duke of akhangelsk died and his only son was in prison. this was three years ago, before then oksana had been part of alexei’s staff and a close friend. oksana received the title of a grand duchess last year when the former duke of komi passed away. oksana is definitely loyal to the imperial family, no doubt about that. she is, however, detested by all of her neighbours including vitaliya and the new duke of komi --- both of them expected to receive the title of a grand duchess/duke. 

NIKITA KURAKIN, the 54 year old duke of KHABAROVSK and the grand duke of FAR EASTERN RUSSIA who resembles KEANU REEVES 

nikita kurakin is first and foremost a general. he is steadfast and reliable. the romanovs trust him. far eastern russia is his kingdom and anyone who challenges his leadership gets a slap on the wrist. he isn’t necessarily liked but he isn’t feared. he is very fair and doesn’t misuse his power. kurakin’s one of the most important figures when it comes to east asian politics. usually when kurakin is on a diplomatic mission, it’s a successful one.

GRIGORI KOLOBKOV, the 68 year old duke of KRASNODAR and the grand duke of SOUTHERN RUSSIA who resembles ED HARRIS

kolobkov is one of the few ussr generals to survive the revolution --- and by that we mean that he was the only general to survive the change in leadership. kolobkov sided with the royal family at a very crucial time and managed to avoid an execution. kolobkov’s expertise landed him a duchy during tsar mikhail’s reign. currently he is pretty much leading the attack on ukraine. 

RENATA SHIRINOVA, the 37 year old duchess of STAVROPOL and the grand duchess of NORTH CAUCASIAN RUSSIA who resembles NATALIA VODIANOVA

shirinova grew up in france --- her family only returned to russia when her father’s family’s title was returned to him. the shirinovas weren’t the loudest supporters of the romanovs when they were fighting for the country. this is the reason why the shirinovas have been rubbing elbows with the romanovs ever since their return to russia. renata is no different from her parents. the problem is that their behaviour just irritates the romanovs. but at least they are loyal !

LIZAVETA ORLOVA, the 34 year old duchess of MORDOVIA and the grand duchess of VOLGA who resembles NATASHA POLY

lizaveta inherited her title from her father but it is her mother who is important. lizaveta belongs to one of the richest families in russia --- while she could use her title to make changes happen, to make sure certain kind of laws happen... it’s her mother’s name and mother’s money that gives her real power. people are afraid of her because she makes problems ( people ) disappear with a snap of her fingers. she was named the grand duchess of volga 100% because of her mother and not because of her father.

ZINAIDA DASHKOVA, the 37 year old duchess of KRASNOYARSK and the grand duchess of SIBERIA who resembles LOTTE VERBEEK

dashkova will stab you in the back if you upset her. she is as power hungry as they come. her resourcefulness has no competition. alexei bought her ‘loyalty’ by giving her the title of grand duchess of siberia. dashkova always hears the imperial family out and usually makes decisions that are in the romanovs’ favour but there are times when dashkova’s own ambitions are more important than being liked by the romanovs. she only respects the hierarchy when it benefits her --- she’s the type who forgets to use honorifics unless she wants something from you.

ALEXANDER CHERNYSHEV, the 36 year old duke of SVERDLOVSK and the grand duke of URAL who resembles RICHARD MADDEN

alexander chernyshev is blue eyed. you can tell him just about anything and he’ll believe you. he’s an army captain even though no one understands how he is equipped to lead anyone. alexander was given the title of a grand duke by tsar mikhail almost a decade ago. the reason ? alexander listens. you don’t need to be afraid of the man double crossing you or causing a scene. 

ANNA ROMANOVA, the 41 year old duchess of MOSCOW and grand duchess of CENTRAL RUSSIA who resembles ANTJE TRAUE

the moscow duchy is economically and culturally an important duchy in russia and having a romanov govern it was important to the family. it was trusted to anya who had always showed competence to rule. anya is the only royal to have her own grand duchy. czar mikhail tried to avoid nepotism whenever he had to choose the next grand duke or duchess. when the previous grand duke of central russia passed away, anya was the only duchess in central russia the romanovs could trust thus she was given the powerful title.

YAKOV GOLOVKIN, the 49 year old duke of SAKHA who resembles JON HAMM

golovkin is a wild card. he is always looking out for himself and takes just about any deal that benefits him. he rarely visits his duchy as it is quite far away from st petersburg. he has never lived in his duchy --- but he really appreciates the money he gets through his title. the romanovs dislikes him, vitaliya likes that he can be bought.

IVAN KAPUSTIN, the 53 year old duke of KOMI who resembles DANIEL CRAIG

kapustin inherited his title from his father a year ago. he’s an army colonel. kapustin may not have held his title for a very long time but he’s been doing his father’s work for a very long time. his military career is also a respectable one. people were expecting him or vitaliya to become the ruler of the grand duchy. he and vitaliya pretty much terrorize oksana --- partly out of pettiness and partly because there’s a chance that oksana might give the title up.

NIKOLAI VON ESSEN, the 35 year old duke of KALININGRAD who resembles ARMIE HAMMER

nikolai’s duchy is barely russian. he has a lot of freedom when it comes to governing. the von essen family has been important members of the russian navy for centuries --- it is why the family received the duchy of kaliningrad when the duchies were reinstated.

LANA YELCHIN, the 46 year old duchess of BASHKORTOSTAN who resembles THANDIE NEWTON

lana yelchin started out as a politician. she had a pretty successful career considering her age --- and then she married the duke of bashkortostan. people liked lana more than they liked her husband so when the man died and it was up to the romanovs to decide whether the man’s cousin would get the duchy or lana... the romanovs chose lana. lana’s heart is in the right place and her experience in ‘people’s politics’ gives her an ability to see issues from a different point of view. she is a person people ask for advice when they are unsure about the effects of new legislation, etc. 

MARINA GLUKHOVA, the 38 year old duchess of BURYATIA who resembles DICHEN LACHMAN

glukhova hasn’t been a duchess for a very long time. she hasn’t even been part of the court for a long time. marina is a illegitimate daughter of the former duke of buryatia. she only came to know about her birthright when, on his deathbed, her father contacted her. marina wasn’t going to accept the title when it was offered to her but eventually caved. it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster for her, she has learnt quickly but her down-to-earth kind of attitude has not disappeared. marina has no patience for mind games and she tends to keep to herself. marina’s passion is foreign affairs though and she’s been very proactive in her role of an honorary ambassador. 

NATALYA ANTOPOVA, the 53 year old duchess of PERM who resembles HELENA BONHAM CARTER

natalya is the first one from her family to have a title. natalya was young, reckless and passionate when the white army recruited her to fight for the imperial family. she had no political opinions but the royalists gave her life a reason, something the soviet union had failed to do. natalya was smart and tended to think outside of the box, which made her stand out. her loyalty was rewarded later on and she was given a duchy. natalya is still a bit reckless and it shows in her style of governing. plans are made quickly, budgets are approved haphazardly... 

VITALIYA VORONTSOVA, the 58 year old duchess of KARELIA who resembles MICHELLE PFEIFFER

u know my bitch. definitely bitter about the title of a grand duchess.

KONSTANTIN ROMANOV, the 34 year old duke of ALEKSANDR OBLAST who resembles CASEY DEIDRICK

aleksandr oblast is the new name of leningrad ( the duchy that borders st. petersburg ) because the romanovs wanted to erase everything that referred to stalin or lenin. aleksandr is the name of the romanovs’ grand father.

[breathinginthevapor]

MARVEL MASTERLIST

Includes actors and characters from the Marvel cinematic universe

Personal favourites are marked with *

Arranged from oldest to newest

ACTORS

Tom Holland

Blurbs

Heartbreak in New York*

One shots

“Sorry I’m late”*

Your best friend Tom Holland has agreed to be your date to your high school reunion, but when bumping into your ex, you might “accidentally” tell him the two of you are dating…

“Can I sleep here tonight?”*

When faced by the loneliness of staying on campus for spring break, you decide to pay a visit to your best friend Jacob. Only, it seems you’ve forgotten he’s with his parents, but luckily, Jacob’s roommate and fellow drama major, Tom, is there, and offers you some company.

“At least think of me while you’re gone”

Your relationship with Tom is a secret, and you hate it. At a party, your feelings are finally confronted.

Wasteland, Baby!

A drunk girl falls into Tom’s lap at party, and little does he know, he’s in for an adventure.

Falling

You miss Tom after your breakup. Based on falling by Harry Styles

//

CHARACTERS

Bucky Barnes

Blurbs

None yet

One Shots

Villain*

Bucky lets her go

James*

Bucky has one sunset and one sunrise left in Brooklyn, and he’s so happy to spend them with you. 40′s Bucky

Red

At a bar in France, Bucky meets the woman of his dreams. 40′s Bucky

Steve Rogers

Blurbs

Gentle

One Shots

None yet

[hemmoangel]

Tagged by @glossierluke 🌸💕

I tag (and remember you don’t have to do this, only if you want): @honeyedlashton @yes-kassiopeia @manny-211 @i-like-5sos @glittersluke and anyone else who would like to participate!

1. Name/nickname: Bunny or Angel are my online advis so whatever you’re comfortable with. You can also call me H

2. Gender: Female

3. Star sign: Aquarius ♒️

4. Height: 4’11”

5. Time: 7:12

6. Birthday: January 23rd ✨

7. Favorite Bands: 5SOS, 1D, COIN, All Time Low, the Neighbourhood, Cigarettes Aftee Sex, Nirvana, Gorillaz ugh many many many more :)

8. Favorite Solo Artists: Ariana Grande, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Taylor Swift, Yungblud, Hozier, Troye Sivan...lots idk

9. Song stuck in my head: “just like magic” by Ari

10. Last movie: Tangled (comfort movie!)

11. Last show: Wandavision

12. When did I make this blog: Sometime in 2017, I had another gay blog before though

13. What I post: cute luke edits, cute things, nsft stuff like blurbs and fanfics, LASHTON

14. The last thing I googled: something for college yuck

15. Other blogs: @lovecoremalum

16. Do I get asks: yes, but I need more attention :(

17. Why I chose this url: because it’s really soft and cute and goes with my blog’s aesthetic

18. Following: 305

19. Followers: 828

20. Average hours of sleep: 6 ish

21. Lucky numbers: 23 and 13

22. Instruments: I play guitar and bass :-)))

23. What I’m wearing rn: the Youngblood flash sale Ashton shirt and Stitch pajama pants

24. My dream trip: Provence, France in a lavender field or maybe like Prince Edward Island in Canada

25. Favorite foods: Mac and cheese, white chocolate lindor or sour trolli gummy worms

26. Nationality: American

27. Favorite song: “Malibu 1992” by COIN

28. Last book I read: Some poetry from Milk and Honey

29. Top three fictional universes: the Twilight one for sure, Barbie’s Fairytopia, and maybe Star Wars? Only for Padmé though 🤤🥺

30. Favorite color: pink, white, red, and black!

[smilexcaptainx]

Never done a shipping thing before, hey ho here we go. My name’s Ismena (fairly sure my parents were high) I’m quite outgoing I love people and socialising. Can be quite blunt and stir some stuff up though. I love biking biked across France and doing Germany/Amsterdam this summer. Love books, films, tv shows, procrastination. Style is casual, unless I’m going out and then GLITTER. Marvel, Band of Brothers and Harry Potter are my top fandoms, the holy trinity. Thanks! X

Hello Ismena! It’s nice to meet you.

For your first ship request, this was absolutely perfect. You did amazing.

Thank you for the ship request!

I have come to a decision, and I have decided that I ship you with Clint Barton!

Why are you two perfect for each other?

    Clint had always been a straightforward man, and that was something that instantly made the relationship between you and Clint develop. You were blunt, as was he. You weren’t afraid to open up to Clint because you felt he understood. And the more you two worked together, the closer you got. It all led to Clint taking the leap and straight up telling you his feelings, and luckily for him, the feelings were mutual.

Who is your best friend?

I have decided that your best friend would be Sam Wilson!

Why are you two best friends?    

     Sam had met you at a party and out of everybody he had interacted with at the party, you were the most genuine person he came in contact with. He loved how outgoing you were and how easy it was for you to hold a conversation with. There was never an awkward moment between the two of you. You made him laugh and he made you laugh hysterically. And from the very first session of laughter you two had with each other, it was clear he was going to be your new best friend.

What is your first date?

Clint would take you biking for your first date

     Clint knew your liking of bike riding, and since he had a love for adventure, bike riding and adventures mixed together greatly. It was five in the afternoon when you got a knock at your door. You opened up to reveal Clint sitting on a bike, wearing a helmet. Your eyes shifted over, noticing another bike beside him with the same helmet he was wearing hanging on the handle. He rang the bell on his bike.

“Are you ready for our date Ismena?” clint asked with a mischievous smirk. “I’ve got somewhere I want to take you.”

“And where would that be?”

“You’re going to have to come with me to find out.”

Blurb Writing Piece:

     The birds outside chirped softly, but loud enough for you to hear through the window and awaken you. A small smile appeared on your lips as you felt the protective arms of your husband, Clint Barton, wrapped around you. He was pressed up against you and holding you tight. He had helped you get over a nightmare of which you had last night.

     You didn’t know how, but Clint sensed your awakening and woke up himself. He drowsily unwrapped his arms from you and sat up. You did the same and sat up as well. Clint looked at you and gave you the same smile he gave you ever morning. It was the smile as if he fell in love with you all over again.

“Your bed head is super cute Clint.”

“Your morning voice is cuter Ismena,” clint flirted back. “are you feeling better?”

You nod. “Thanks to you I am.”

Clint leaned in a gently pecked your lips. “I’m glad I could help angel.”

ship requests = closed

[ginnyzero]

A Retrospective Look at My Self Publishing Journey

I was asked again lately about why I chose to be an indie author. And I’ve discussed my self-publishing journey before, mostly in the moment when I put out my first book. But the true answer to why I ended up self-publishing came a lot in hindsight and some examination of the very uncomfortable truths of the publishing industry. Especially the part that I am into, the speculative fiction section.

So, while I’m going to say that this is true in general that it will not hold true in all cases and that if an agent really loves your story and your voice, you will still get picked up. It is all very subjective. The fact I have to make this disclaimer feels ludicrous but here we are.

It’s been over three years since I first published the Lone Prospect. My sales have not been great and my dad is my biggest fan along with a girl in France. And I love both of them and am grateful to them. And as time has gone by, I have learned that there are bigger problems in the publishing sphere than “my book is too long.”

Now, that’s not to say that the Lone Prospect isn’t too long for a traditional publishing debut. It is! For traditional publishing, the Lone Prospect (and Rodeo’s Run) are twice as long as they should be. Supposedly.

There were also other factors at play. Factors that I wasn’t aware of as a hopeful baby novelist who wanted a traditional contract with some money to go into the bank. And most of them are simply outside of my control.

Big issue number one is that series are no longer highly sought after. Things have done a radical one eighty in the past decade, decade and a half, when it comes to series versus stand alones. Series are no longer being sought after by agents. Agents want stand alone novels that if they do well can be turned into series. Oh, they want the next big thing to make them big money. They just don’t want the next big thing to submit a first in a series novel.

This is a nice thought. A lot of times though, a lot of crucial long term arc building is started in the first book of a series. The first book of the series is like your foundation corner stone for your entire work. And if you don’t put that work in at the beginning of the series, the later books are going to fall flat on their face. Especially if your contract goes from three, to seven, to thirteen and so on.

And the reason that series are no longer being sought after is that several big name authors aren’t fulfilling their contractual obligations to finish their series. Publishers no longer want to take the risk of giving out an advance and a contract and not getting product in return. So, saying you’re writing a series is almost like a death nail in the coffin.

I write series. There is no sugar coating this fact. Yes. The Lone Prospect, Rodeo’s Run and Serpent’s Smile are all written as stand alone adventures. They are also part of a series. So, this was really factor number one and it’s a pretty big one. Most of my ideas are for series! Not stand alone novels. I’m a big arc, character interaction type of writer.

Publishers aren’t big on risks. They are a business. Risks must be managed to as little as possible.

There is a major risk factor especially with the Heathen’s series. (Dawn Warrior just might have been a bit too much of a retread idea.) Heathens is squarely in speculative fiction. It’s not straight out Science Fantasy like Star Wars. It’s not true blue science fiction like Star Trek. It’s not kitchen sink urban fantasy they solve crime like half a dozen series I could name. And it’s not textbook dystopian/post apocalyptic like Mad Max. It’s also not a Western or a Military or an Action Adventure.

It’s Speculative Fiction.

I hate that term. I really do. But to be fair, agents might not know how to sell the books. Now, I can understand this. I can! I have a hard time selling the books. I mean it takes more than three words and some people don’t like that. I want to say “it is biker werewolf adventures.” And be done with it, but that doesn’t really say if it’s urban fantasy or science fiction or what. I can say it’s Sons of Anarchy/Expendables for Urban Fantasy and possibly be closer. But that still doesn’t include the post WW3, advanced technology setting.

(And I have my reasons for that so assume another post is coming.)

Yeah. You could call it Speculative Fiction and put it in the science fiction/fantasy shelves, but in reality, it’s a mix of several genres and it’s just too risky. If no one knows what it is, why will they buy it?

I don’t know. Bikers and Werewolves and Explosions? A touch of romance. Family style humor? Put Savannah on the cover with her floating motorcycle in biker leathers and do you think anyone is really going to care what genre it is?

It’s reasonable that if I was a writer don’t know how to sell it outside of the very generic “speculative fiction” label, then why should an agent know how to sell it. Especially when I’m not rigidly following genre tropes and rules when it comes to urban fantasy, werewolves, dystopian or post-apocalyptic fiction. (Though how they could tell that from the first five pages is beyond me.)

I call it science fantasy primarily because werewolves are fantasy lore, I have science fiction style technology and a scientific explanation for lycanthropy (like the first Universal movie before they went full out curse mode) and I use action/adventure tropes which are a huge deal in science fantasy aka Star Wars. I’m not using the Heroes Journey as my framework, because I’m writing adult and for adult audiences that has been done to death. (At least, I’m not doing it consciously, maybe subconsciously but I’m not planning it that way!)

But here is where the disclaimer comes in. If an agent loves your concept and your voice, even if you aren’t following genre tropes. They will pick you up anyways.

It’s a crapshoot. That’s why I recommend even if you don’t want a traditional publishing contract to try querying because, you never know and it’s good experience for summarizing, blurbs and other such things.

All right, so, the Lone Prospect was too long, it was the first in a series and it didn’t fit into a clear little non-risky box.

There are several other things going on in the industry right now. Own Voices is big. I’m not a minority and my sexual identity isn’t a huge facet in my life that I’m going to write a whole book around it. Another large issue is that speculative fiction aka science fiction/fantasy isn’t a huge seller. Not like romance, so they tend to pick up less new authors in that genre per year, if any.

So, let’s talk the elephant in the room. Gender.

I’m a woman. And in a post Pern, Harry Potter, Twilight and Hunger Games world, I see absolutely no reason to hide this fact. In fact, I’m not 100% sure that one could hide this in today’s social media age. It’s not worth my time and energy to pretend to be a guy. Because as a reader, and most readers I know, the name on the cover doesn’t matter. It is what is between those covers that matters.

Now, if you go and look at science fiction and fantasy shelves, you’re going to find a rather huge dichotomy represented on those shelves. Science Fiction is almost exclusively written by men. Urban Fantasy leans strongly towards female authors. And fantasy I want to say is about fifty-fifty because women cornered the market on “romantic fantasy’ and “paranormal romance” ages ago back in the 80s.

And a lot of science fiction on the shelves is still stuff written back in the 1960s and 1970s during the end of the Cold War and Vietnam. They are science fiction “classics” and nothing I’d recommend to a newcomer to scifi. Entire shelves filled with Bova and Sanderson and Asimov and Heinlein and Herbert (and the licensed fanfiction of Dune) is not a great look for modern science fiction. I’m not even sure I’d recommend Weber at this point. Adams and Phillip K. Dick are great, but I’d steer a newcomer towards Robert Asprin’s satirical stuff before stuff written fifty years ago!

When reading the old Expanded Universe of Star Wars, I could count on one hand the amount of female writers that were allowed to play in the universe in comparison to the amount of male writers. Thus, why most of the books were exclusively about Luke, or Han Solo, or Boba Fett and Leia got shuffled off pretty early on to do her diplomatic thing and be “mom.” The book between Episodes V and VI where she courted Black Sun to get the contacts to actually get into Jabba’s palace was a pretty rare exception and that was written by a man.

And you’d think, being it was 2015/2016 and that I was submitting to female agents that me being a woman pushing into the realm of science fantasy wouldn’t matter. (There are strong Starship Trooper’s vibes to the opening chapter of the Lone Prospect on purpose!) But apparently it does, especially if you look at the shelves and turn the books around that are written by older white men.

With the first chapter giving off the Starship Troopers vibes, it is pretty clear that I was writing an action adventure type of story. Action adventure stories are once again considered the playground of men.

So, even if they could get past the length, past the fact it’s book one of a series, past the pushing the boundaries of genres (look, I can comp Dredd and Minority Report here, don’t tell me that Heathen’s is totally out of left field,) and I’m not a minority and not someone writing about the LGBTA+ journey, I’m still a woman in science fantasy action adventure.

Despite the fact women founded science fiction, that women made science fiction popular and that in the past some of the celebrated authors like McCaffery, Norton and Cherryh were women. Men have come to love the science fiction, science fantasy, fantasy genre and we now must all cater to them and their wants and needs ignoring the market that got us to this point originally and still exists.

Now, I didn’t know most of this when I queried. Or, I was hopeful and chose to ignore it. I had hopes that The Lone Prospect had enough Urban Fantasy trappings to slide under the radar of risk. And while I may have a growing pile of ideas to write now, I had to get the Lone Prospect out there in order for those ideas to appear. I’m indie. I’m happy with it because it means I have a few people reading my books and loving them.

And I can hope that someday the industry will change enough where risk isn’t as much of a factor, pushing boundaries is embraced and women are welcomed back to a genre they created and popularized.

[lililyoongi]

pj harry completes me and my aesthetic.