#tired of seeing tiny or 'perfect' looking noses GIVE THEM BIG AND IMPERFECT NOSES YOU IDIOT !!!! DON'T HOLD BACK !!!!!!!!! /lh

[rainofthetwilight]

you all should give characters more 'imperfect' noses methinks. I wanna feel better abt mine

[queenxxxsupreme]

dad!witchers with their newborns

A/N: @ella-animine suggested skin to skin time with dad!witchers and their babies and I have got to say this is the sweetest and softest idea I’ve ever come across. Remember if you want to be on my taglist go here and for more dad!witchers content go to my masterlist here :)

Warnings: none really, mentions of labor I think?

Word Count: 1.2k

Lambert 

“Unlace your shirt, love.”

“Are you trying to get me naked?” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting your hold on Eva. 

“If I wanted you naked for whatever it is your perverted mind is thinking, I wouldn’t have our daughter in my arms.”

He sighed heavily. 

“Cockblock.” He muttered and complied with your orders, undoing the laces to his shirt. 

“You’re lucky she doesn’t know what you’re saying.” You looked down at her, smiling softly at the precious newborn. “I have to run to the market. While I’m gone, you get to hold her.”

The witcher scrunched his nose up at your words, watching you pull Eva from your chest and place her carefully into his arms. 

“Why do I have to be practically shirtless?”

“Skin to skin contact with her  is good for both of you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I found a book at a little shop not too far away. Had some really wonderful things in it.” You moved his shirt a little more out of the way and fixed his hold on her. He was still learning the proper way to hold her. 

“Like this?” He asked quietly, wanting to make sure he was doing it right. He held one hand under her bottom and the other on her back. His hand was so large that it covered nearly the whole expanse of her back. 

“Perfect.” You smiled down at him, pressed a kiss to his forehead and then a kiss to Eva’s temple. “I’ll be back shortly.”

***

When you arrived back home, you placed the newly purchased items on the table. Lambert still sat at the table with Eva in his arms. It didn’t look like he had moved at all except to retrieve a small blanket that Eva was bundled up in.

“How was it?” He asked quietly. 

“Busy. How was she?” You went to him and fixed the blanket just a little around Eva’s shoulders. It covered her back but also left her to lay directly on Lambert’s chest. 

“Started crying a little after you left. Gave me a damn headache but I managed to get her to calm down and she fell asleep.”

“My poor baby has a headache.” You kissed Lambert’s forehead. He scrunched his nose up and grunted in displeasure. 

“What’s with you and all these damn forehead kisses?”

“You don’t like it?” You raised a brow, teasing him. He didn’t like simple acts of affection and to be honest, neither did you. But you hadn’t really thought about the little kisses here and there. But now that he asked about it, you were going to mess with him. 

“No. If you’re gonna kiss me, do it the right way.”

“Then maybe I just won’t kiss you.” You smirked a little as you turned to go back to the table. “Ever again.”

“Good.” He muttered, eyes flickering down to Eva. She stirred just a little. “Don’t wanna kiss you anyways.”

“Good.”

You knew he was playing along to your teasing game. 

“That’s too bad, you know.” You pulled the items, some fresh produce and bread, from the basket and set them on the table. “I was hoping we could have just another.”

“Another? Another what?” Lambert tilted his head down to watch Eva as her eyes opened and she yawned. The simple action warmed the witcher’s heart. 

“Another child.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Another? So-So soon?”

“Oh, gods no. After she gets a little older, perhaps four or so.”

When you heard no reply from him, you looked over your shoulder to the witcher holding your daughter. He was looking down at her, his hand carefully rubbing up and down her back. 

You turned around so you could watch him better, admiring the little fire in his eyes. He loved her more than anything, you knew this. He was a gruff man, difficult to get along with, but his daughter had the ability to soften him into a Lambert that very few had the privilege of witnessing.

“I…. I think another one would be nice.” He admitted quietly, eyes flickering over to you briefly before he returned his gaze to Eva. 

Eskel

The witcher was up the second Nadia began to cry. You stirred a little, still dazed from slumber, and started to get out of bed.

“No, doll, I’ve got it.” He assured you, resting one hand between your shoulder blades.

“Are you sure?” You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “You always get up to get her.”

“I don’t mind at all.” A warm kiss was pressed to the tip of your nose. He pulled the blankets back up over you and made his way across the bedroom to Nadia’s crib.

Very carefully, he picked up the four day old infant and placed her against his chest. He tried copying what he had seen you do when she cried. You’d gently bounce her, hushing her, whispering to her. 

“Shh, little girl.” Eskel was careful to not speak too loud. He didn’t want to chance his deep and rough voice scaring her. “Daddy’s right here. Shhh.”

However, this didn’t seem to work. She still screamed and cried. 

He did his best to remember how you would calm her down. Since the bouncing and talking wasn’t working, he had to try something else. He remembered how you told him the first day she was born that skin to skin contact was good for Nadia, that it was like a spell. It could calm her down and make her feel comfortable. 

Eskel carefully placed her back down into her crib and unfastened the little buttons on her sleeper before pulling her out of it. Her skin was so soft and warm and free of any imperfections. For a split second, he worried that if he placed his large and scared hands upon the infant, it would taint her skin, make her into the monster he was. 

The witcher shook his head as if he was shaking the invasive thought from his mind. He picked her back up along with a little blanket, and went to sit on his side of the bed he shared with you.

He fixed his hold on her so that she could rest on his chest while he leaned back against the headboard. He carefully put the blanket up over her little back, tucking it in where he could so she would stay warm. 

Her cries died down. Her frantic little heartbeat steadied. Her eyes closed and her tense frame loosened up. She pressed her cheek against his chest over a scar that cut right above his heart. 

Eskel looked down at her, a rare smile finding its way to his scarred lips. 

You were pulled from your light sleep when she finished crying, your mother’s instincts telling you that you just had to make sure she was okay before finally drifting off to sleep. 

You opened your eyes, expecting to see your husband laying in bed next to you. But what you found was him holding your daughter.

You propped yourself up on one elbow and smiled a little at him, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You are so good with her.” You complimented, leaning forward to kiss his bare shoulder.

“She’s…. She’s the only thing I’ve done good in my life.” His words were quiet whispers, too afraid to talk any louder. 

“That isn’t true.” You softly protested, scooting up in the bed so that you could sit beside him. “You’ve saved people, Eskel. You’re a hero.”

He shook his head a little, drawing his attention back down to Nadia.

“I didn’t have control over that, over becoming a witcher. But…. But this I did.”

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, looking down to your precious little baby.

“You’re a good father.”

Geralt 

“Are you okay, dove?” Geralt asked quietly as you moved around a little, carefully holding Bram in your arms. He was just a little less than an hour old. You’d been holding him to your chest for a while, chatting quietly with your husband when he noticed a look of discomfort on your face.

“Just…. Just tired is all.” You answered, giving him a little smile. Your eyes fell down to Bram, whose eyes were open and gazing up at you. “He’s so beautiful, Geralt.”

“He is.” The witcher agreed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the bed. You pulled one hand away from Bram. He was resting on your bare chest with one of your hands on his back. “I’m so proud of you.” Geralt took your hand to kiss your knuckles. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” You reminded him. You yawned, pulling your hand from Geralt to cover your mouth. “Would you hold him while I sleep? Just for a little bit. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course.” Geralt nodded his head. He stood to his feet to take Bram, who immediately started to cry. 

“Give him back to me for a moment, Geralt.” You told him. With a frown on his lips, he did as you requested. “Take your shirt off so you can lay him directly on your chest. He likes to feel my heartbeat and hear it. Perhaps he’d be more comfortable if he hears yours as well.”

Geralt pulled the shirt off and set it on the bed out of the way. As he took Bram from you, Bram began to cry.  

“It’s okay, love. He’ll stop in a moment.” You told him. 

“Like this?” He asked, placing Bram on his chest just over his heart. 

“Perfect.” You smiled softly, settling back into the pillows. 

Geralt carefully sat down, two large hands splayed across his son’s back. His hands were bigger than the newborn, dwarfing the little boy. Geralt took one hand away from Bram to grab his shirt, then used the article of clothing to cover Bram.

His crying ceased and Geralt looked down to make sure he was okay. Big gray eyes gazed up at him, curious. 

“He is indeed beautiful.” He whispered. “And incredibly tiny.”

You giggled softly, struggling to keep your eyes opened as you watched him. It was a sight to see, the witcher holding his son. It was something you didn’t want to look away from, but exhaustion got the best of you and soon, you were asleep.

Geralt brought his gaze back down to Bram, smiling softly. He was a precious gift, one the witcher never felt he deserved.

“I love you.” The words were breathed against the infant’s forehead. Geralt pressed a kiss to Bram’s warm skin and settled back into his seat.

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[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Three, “Rebecca Ann”

*Not my gifs and ugh it was SO hard to find good ones, sigh* 

Word Count: 11.6k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  Song will be at the end, so as not to give anything away ;) 

“She is led by love, the world moves for love . . it kneels before it in awe."

- Edward Walker, The Village 

“So, what happened in the story next?”

“Are you sure you can stay awake for another chapter, love?” I wheeze, fingers combing through the satiny loose curls that I push away from her eyes. The very pair that I’ve seen so many times in the mirror. “You’re getting tired, Bean. It’s been a long day for you with school and swim team practice.” 

“I know, but I can stay awake. It’s getting good.” 

“Pinky P?” I almost giggle, holding out my littlest finger that she hooks hers with. Without fail, I could still picture how tiny her fingers were the first time I saw them, and my how they’ve grown. I think it’d be safe to say somebody is going to have big hands, too. 

“Yeah, it is, but . . . ,” my words escape me momentarily. Distracted, I stop, hearing the sound of a cry from upstairs, wishing that he would walk into the room. That he would help me with this part, and the ones that follow.

“But, what?” 

I’d been called it every day for the last almost ten years, but it still was hard to get used to at times, especially now with the story I tell. I had a hard time sometimes believing how lucky I’d gotten, and she only reminds me as I watch her eyes lull at the feeling of my hand in her hair. Just like somebody I know. 

“But it gets sad, love, because you know, sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.” 

“Stop it, you sound like you’re making up rubbish rules, just like Daddy,” the beloved word falls from her rosebud lips, and we can’t contain our laughter. The imperfect perfections in her cheeks and the sing-song laughter that peels from her lips makes this all the more surreal for me, like I’m looking right at him. “Now, keep going, Mum. I want to hear more of your story.” 

/

It was never really an awkward silence with Harry, save for the few times after we had a row. No, it hadn’t been anything but comfortable since well, before we had started dating. Maybe even not long after I’d become his assistant, if you’re not counting that painful in between time. Today wasn’t one of those times, but sometimes I may have made it awkward when I couldn’t stop staring at him, just like the way I currently watch as his eyelashes flutter against his skin. 

“Skye and Asher?!” the voice says from the phone pressed to my ear. 

“Yep. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Well, I’ll be darned . . huh,” my dad concludes with a soft laugh. “I hope he knows how much trouble he’s in for.” 

“Me too. Skye was pissed with me at first for not introducing them sooner. As if I should’ve known she’d fall in love the second she saw him.” 

“That sounds like her,” he muses with nostalgia carried in his voice. A recent memory sits in my mind from the other day when Skye told me the very story that I’m retelling. The apparent love at first sight with Asher and their first date, a rushed love story at best compared to Harry and I’s. He griped about it, Harry, feeling bad for Asher not knowing what was going to hit him. He had his hands full, alright, both boys. “So, how are things with you and Harry then, Boops?”

“Good, really good,” the answer comes easily to me, yet in a hushed voice as I try not to speak too loudly. My next words pause when a furrow gathers between his two brows, easily remedied by the pad of my thumb. 

“Your trip went well?”

“Yeah, it was loads of fun seeing his family. I met a few more of them, and they’re all so alike. The cheesy sense of humor, love of board games, and they’re kind as can be,” memories bubble up with my words of our trip to Harry’s hometown close to a week ago. 

“Well, it was good to talk to you and catch up, love, but I have to get going to work. You too probably soon, huh?”

“Yeah, and you too, Dad. I miss you . . you’re sure you can’t come up soon for a day or something?” I ask, almost holding my breath, despite knowing it won’t help his answer to sound like the one I want. 

“Not sure, Ree, I’ll have to see how it’s going with the next build, we’re getting busy.” 

“Okay, I hope you can come up somehow . . Well, I’ll talk to you on Monday, Dad,” listening to his subsequent goodbye, I set down my phone, sighing. Shielding a hand over my forehead, I move my legs under the covers, feeling his warm pair. 

It wasn’t often that I’d be awake before Harry, because somehow he was always up early, even on the weekends. Not today, though. I for once had been up before him. It was nice, getting to enjoy him like this, especially considering the way he drove me up the wall yesterday. Silent, asleep Harry was far preferable to me right now. He also couldn’t protest the lazy attempts I made at styling his hair differently when he was asleep, considering he slept like a log. 

The colors had begun to change outside, and the shops were building their candy supplies in preparation for the scary holiday. Despite Fall settling around us, a golden tinge still clung to Harry’s skin. Underneath his golden necklace, at the point of his nose, and around his many tattoos. It still surprised me, the four numbers in my handwriting permanent above his heart. It had been filled with so many firsts, and hopefully a few lasts. 

Glancing at the clock, I found that our alarm still wouldn’t be going off for a good while. Albeit he couldn’t be more handsome when asleep and knowing what I’m about to do, I fight my way into his arms. His groan is instant and so is the smile I try to hide from my lips. 

“Mmm, Becks, ‘m sleepin,’” Harry whines against me, his body like jelly. His arms still find their way around me and so does his chin hooking over top of my head. 

“I just wanna cuddle you before work.” 

“Fine,” it’s a sighed answer in return, but I hear the defeat in his voice. The way sleep beckons for him, his soft snoring soon resuming. His chest is balmy under my cheek where I lay it, listening for the sound of his heart. Next to his laugh, it was my favorite sound. 

It seemed to be a recurring theme throughout today, stealing glances at Harry when he wasn’t noticing, like now as he flips through his menu.

“Are ya gonna ogle me, Becks, or are you gonna figure out what t’ order, love?” 

“I already decided.”

“Good, ‘cos so have I,” he announces, laying his menu down. It’s only seconds later that the server sees, and we’re ordering our breakfast. “Seems you and my gran have really hit it off.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“No, I know so. Saw it even. I haven’t seen her take t’ somebody like that befo,’ certainly not any other girlfriend of mine.”

“I really like her - Claire. She’s sweet and even though we’ve only met a few times, she’s so easy to talk to.”

“I know, I love that ‘bout her. You’d think she was my mum’s mum with how sweet tha two o’ them are. She’s been supportive ever since tha stuff started with my dad, always let me talk t’ her ‘bout it without judgement. It meant loads t’ me,” he divulges to me. I can’t help but nod along, and fold my hand into his in the middle of the table. 

“I bet so. That sounds like my gran Ann, she was my dad’s mum, but she was always there for me.” 

“I see where you get it from, love,” he smiles with a wink of his sunshine eye, lips curling from the rim of his mug of coffee. It still baffles me how he can drink it black, let alone ripping hot. 

God, the things those eyes do to me, those lips too. Okay, Becky, chill. Now is not the time. But, then there’s the outfit he’s wearing today and how it’s so him, and effortlessly handsome. It looks like something my granddad would wear - tan slacks, and a cream long sleeved shirt with chocolate brown stripes. Curls in a mess atop his head and parted in the middle, but somehow, it works. It had become my favorite hairstyle of his recently, but that would quickly change with whatever new one he came up with next. For once, it wasn’t Chelsea boots today or the occasional Vans, but instead saddle brown laced up Oxfords. See, how were the casual outfits so handsome? Harry’s outfits always work, and I wish I knew how. 

“Whatcha starin’ at, hmm? I keep findin’ you lookin’ at me this mornin,’ startin’ t’ wonder why.” 

“What, can I not admire my handsome boyfriend every now and then?” my question comes with a lift of my brow. Now, it’s my turn to look all inquisitive over my cup of coffee. 

“Now, I never said ya couldn’t do that, love,” Harry teases with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. 

It stuck to his lips as he began to read the paper over his coffee until our breakfast arrived. Even then, it remained. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” I titter, cutting my fork through the two layers of pancakes.

“Stop drenchin’ yer pancakes with syrup, yer not gonna taste ‘em. They’ll be all soggy,” he warns, feeding a strip of bacon past his bubblegum pink lips. 

“Stop telling me what to do with my pancakes.” 

“Watch it, li’l one, or else ‘m not gonna share me food with you,” Harry says, pointing his fork at me. It gleams with strips of maple syrup beading at the tines’ ends. My lips ready their rebuttal, but his eyebrows only inch higher as he cocks his head towards me, silently willing me to continue. “I know ya will, ‘s a given. You always ask t’ taste somethin’ off me plate, don’t even try t’ deny it, lovey.” 

It’s difficult to say the least, hiding my smirk and its accompanying giggle. Shaking my head, I sigh as I stab my fork at my pancakes, feeling his foot knock into mine underneath the table. It looked nothing close to Rafael’s here, but somehow, it brought me back to that night in the Italian restaurant. Our first one. The way his foot nudged at mine under the table, and the way his eyes gleamed with a smile. Sometimes, if I thought hard enough, I could feel the fluttering inside of me from the butterflies he still gave me. 

“What? Yer a li’l too quiet fer tha talkin’ t’ I jus’ gave you, bug. No witty comebacks? That’s a surprise and a relief all in one,” Harry jokes, dimples set into his cheeks. He had shaved them just a few days ago, but it looked like it had been longer. 

My lips are absent of any words. Instead, I busy them with the pillowy pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Looking down at my plate, I cut into the potatoes crisp on the exterior with cheese and flecks of pepper. Setting down my fork, I slowly pat on the bottom of the ketchup bottle. 

“Becks? Y’know I was only jokin,’ love.”

“I know, and we both know you’re going to share your lemon poppyseed muffin with me,” it’s my turn for the shit eating grin now. Lifting my gaze, I meet his. 

“I told you!” he begins with a shake of his head, pressing his fist to his overactive mouth. “Told ya t’ order yer own, love.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll share with me because you love me.” 

“I dunno if ‘d go as far t’ say that,” he shrugs. My scoff makes the smile tickle further at his cheeks, and it all but disappears when I pinch his thigh from under the table. “Woman, I swear t’ bloody God-.” 

“Swear what?” I pipe up, setting my chin in my hand as he chuckles away across from me. He suffices a response with a shake of his head, feeding a ripe strawberry past his lips. It doesn’t help that he locks eyes with me the second he does it, and lips slow as can be, at that. “You’re bad.” 

Harry offers a measly shrug in response, and what speaks volumes is the way he tugs the striped bag closer to him, holding our beloved muffin. Ignoring it, I dip a bite of potatoes into my puddle of ketchup, enjoying the hum of the cafe around us. Harry and I had been coming here for a while now- well, before we had started dating. He liked their food and turned me onto them, starting with getting him breakfast and his special muffin when I was his assistant. I don’t think he took me out to breakfast here until I had come back to work at his firm, but it was a nice treat every once in a while, even if it meant having to wake up earlier. 

“I talked to my dad this morning, and told him about Skye and Asher. He was surprised, to say the least. I wish he’d come up and visit one of these days, he’s always so busy.” 

“‘m sure he will when he’s not so busy, love, like when his new build ‘s over,” Harry muses, loudly flipping the page of his paper. Watching as he flattens it out, the bite of potatoes on its way to my mouth pauses. 

“How’d you know about his new build?”

“‘Cos I talk t’ him too. He rang me tha other day, and we spoke ‘bout um . . I dunno, footie and cooking,” he answers, nonchalantly. Nodding, I shake a little more salt onto my potatoes, trying to will Harry to meet my eyes. 

“Maybe he’ll come up if you ask, or if it’s to hang out with you.” 

“Oh, hush, you. He’ll come when he has tha time, love, y’know that. Stop bein’ a pout,” he says, folding his paper back up into a messy square. My head shakes when he holds it out to me, instead setting it to the side before he picks up his coffee. 

A wheezy laugh drops from his lips as he shakes his head at me, “Fine, here, Ms. Pouty. I must love you a whole lot t’ share me muffin,” Harry sighs, reaching into the bag and soon splitting it in half, handing me a chunk.

“Thank you . . love you,” it comes with a wink that he dismisses with a roll of his eyes.

“I know,” he huffs, breaking off a morsel of the dense bread. His eyes twinkle with mischief when I nudge my foot against his leg underneath the table. “Ditto, bug, always love you back too.”

/

I tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. Huffing, a hand dives into my hair as I stare back at the screen. It’s a welcomed respite when my wrist sings with a notification. Pushing back my sleeve, it reads Team Meeting at 2pm. I tap my palm against the screen to silence it before standing from my desk.

“Don’t look so sad to see me,” a voice teases. Lifting my eyes, I find Simon gliding down the hall towards me. The lawyer life suited him well, and so did his new job at the firm. He certainly had a flare for the suits, sporting a maroon number today. He seemed to be liking it and Harry never had a bad thing to say about him.

“Hi, Si.”

“Something the matter, Big B?” he pries, bumping his shoulder against mine as we turn into the east conference room where a few bodies congregate.

“No, just stuck on writing this deposition, so this will be a good break.”

“You mean a boring break,” Simon jokes, passing me an empty mug. 

“Hey, I can’t be caught saying that around here,” I say, sarcasm laced in my hushed voice.

“Oh, yeah. We can’t have the boss’ girlfriend be heard saying his speeches were boring,” his animated lilt tickles a happiness at my lips. A laugh passes between us as steam from the hot coffee wafts across my face. 

“What’s this I hear ‘bout boring? Ya aren’t talkin’ ‘bout yer bosses, now are you?” somebody pipes up. Looking over my shoulder, I’m awarded with the sight of Harry grinning far too proudly at his own joke. He embellishes it with a quick wink to me and a hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Oh, me calling you boring? Never in a million years,” Si cracks. I savor the sound of their loud laughs whilst pouring creamer and sugar into mine. Setting it down on the table we stand at, I pick up another mug, filling this one to the top with the scalding coffee.

“Thank you, my love,” my boyfriend smiles when I hand him the hot coffee. “Better go find a seat, tha two o’ you are late, per usual,” he quips, waving a circle into my back before leaving.

“Yeah right, like we’re late,” Si scoffs, turning to walk away. The rest of the gang had joined us by now, and I find an empty seat next to Rose towards the back. 

I had come up with my own little rule at these things. It started with never sitting up front by Harry where he and Myles spoke. Certainly, I never sat in the back straight across from him where his eyes would gravitate. They both were bad ideas, and I’d quickly found them out from a past mistake or two. 

Today, Myles started us off. There was something about a required employee training. Of course, there was the annual Halloween party coming up later this month, a charity function in the works, and working a table at an upcoming uni job fair. Harry and I may or may not be going as a certain Spice Girls couple, wink wink. 

Slowly, like always, it grew to be boring. That’s when the texts started, despite the number of times Harry groaned about me distracting him on previous occasions. I quickly found it near impossible to not give him the dirtiest of looks across the room. It didn’t help that we were on near opposite sides, and he was facing Myles, pretending to pay attention. Per usual.

what should we do 2night for dinner? was thinkin i could do u 2 start with 

He did a terrible job of wicking the smirk from his lips when I looked at him next. Kneading at his bottom lip hardly hid it, and drinking my coffee didn’t save me either.

You’re bad, is all I text back, making it look as if I’m taking notes on my laptop. I just hope nobody else can see, but I try to make sure of that.

oh i could be loads of things if u let me love. like in between ur legs 2night or if ur good enough some time b4 we go home 

He didn’t even need to add a winky face or a saucy emoji. This man and his way with words, I swear it’ll be the death of me. He will, one way or the other. Hiding my laugh with a cough, I bring my mug back to my lips, nearly choking when Harry’s gaze slinks over to mine. 

“You okay?” Si whispers.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, holding eye contact with Harry. Nobody else might notice it, but I see it. The way one of his dimples plays hide and seek with me on his cheek, accompanying his sly lips. A pair that I’m itching to have on me, here and now. Well, in fifteen minutes or so. 

alright becks? choking already thinkin bout me big dick bein in ur mouth?

Stop, we’re in a meeting, Harry. Your meeting 

doesn’t stop me love so don’t let it stop u now 

God, you’re unbelievable, Harry

so are those lips of urs bug. cant wait 2 have those pretty things round me cock 2day. up 2 u if ya want me sooner or later 

Trying to mask my long sigh, I press the cover of my laptop shut. It’s even harder to resist sneaking a look at Harry. He is so full of shit, faking a glance around the room just to make brief eye contact with me. Of course, while he licks his lips. My eyebrows lift only in the slightest and he manages a shrug at me whilst leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head like the cocky boss he is. 

Rose’s spiel that was actually holding my attention is interrupted when my wrist vibrates ten minutes later. I’m already beginning to roll my eyes when I lift it, wondering what Harry has said now. But, it’s not him. It’s who I least expected out of anyone. 

Hi, bunny. I’m in London for a few days . . . I want to see you. Could we get coffee or lunch? xo 

The rest of Rose’s speech goes absolutely over my head. If you asked me what it was about, I couldn’t tell you, despite the fact that I heard it. But no, I didn’t. Not really. Nor did I hear Simon’s subsequent jokes or when Rose called on me to share progress on our case. I couldn’t remember what, just the way everybody looked at me, like the kid in class caught not paying attention. It didn’t help seeing the worry etched onto Harry’s face, then and now, as I sit in the car next to him. 

Another one had come by now, and still, I had no idea what to say or do.

“Did ya hear what I said, ‘bout dinner?” 

Lifting my gaze, I see Harry’s patient one waiting for me. 

“No, sorry. What’d you say?”

Waiting for the light to turn, his hand had folded mine into his firmly. Delicate circles were left on my skin by his thumb. “You alright t’day, Becks?”  

“Fine. Did you want to get takeaway for dinner, or just warm up leftovers?” 

“F’get ‘bout dinner fer a second, Becks, and please tell me what’s been botherin’ you t’day. We agreed on no mo’ lies, bug, and I know yer not fine. I can tell,” his objection comes in a gentle murmur, accentuated by his thumb pressing against mine. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s sighed, almost lost in the Arctic Monkeys song filling the car, until Harry turns it off. “My mum texted me today, during our team meeting.” 

The ‘oh’ that comes from him is teeming with realization and a certain weight to it. All I can think of to do in response is to nod. I busy myself with sliding his new opal ring off his left forefinger. 

“‘s okay, bug, I understand . . ‘m sorry, too. So, what’d her text say?”

The white glow from the touchscreen display in Harry’s Rover illuminates the reflective specks in the stone. They cover the rainbow, spanning from purple, white, pink, and a mint green. Harry had joked when he’d gotten it that I was probably going to steal it from him more often than not, knowing how I loved opals. He was right, and that was a few months ago. I had worn it until now on my thumb when he belatedly stole it back from me. It fit him better, anyways. 

“That she’s in London, and she wants to get together,” my voice is childlike, shy and lacking volume. Harry begins to speak, until I stop him, with my voice and my subsequent words. “Then, when I didn’t respond that I’m invited to lunch with her and Robbie tomorrow afternoon at some restaurant Robbie likes.” 

“Oh,” he hums, lips stilling when he looks over his shoulder before making a turn. “Did you text her back yet?”

“No. I don’t want to go, or talk to her. I dunno why she does this, just pop up out of the blue as if she hasn’t spoken to me in almost two years . . since my accident.” 

“You don’t hafta go, Becks. There’s nothin’ makin’ you go. Yer an adult and you make yer own decisions, bug. You don’t owe her anythin.’” 

“I know, but that doesn’t stop her from the guilt trips. I don’t even remember unblocking her number . . she must have gotten a new one. But, I’m afraid, Harry,” I confess, threading the ring back onto his finger riddled with fine dark hairs. He allows me, having gotten used to it by now, and the way that I trace the veins poking out of his skin. 

“Of what, babe? ‘s not like she can- well, I guess she could.” 

I try to swallow past the nerves, and the unsaid words, but it’s difficult, to say the last. “Yeah, she could. It’s not very hard to Google your name and find the address of your firm. She must know by now that I work for you again.”

“Bug, even if she came t’ tha firm, she has t’ get past Amelia first, and that’s not gonna happen. She’d ring you and say who’s in tha lobby waitin’ fer you, you could easily turn her away, if anythin’.” 

“You’re right.” 

“‘m always right,” he coos, lifting a brow at me goofily when his piercing eyes meet mine. The curl to his lips doesn’t linger, and they soon flatten out with understanding and severity. “It’ll be okay, Becks. Do what feels right. Text her back and say no, or don’t talk t’ her at all. She doesn’t deserve yer time o’ day afta what she’s put you thru.’ Dunno how people like that can’t understand ya don’t jus’ get t’ pop in and out o’ yer kid’s life,” it’s a muttering as his head shakes back and forth. The whirring sound of the garage door opening before us fills the empty space of the car. 

Harry knew. He knew all about it with the disappearing parent act, the parent who was preferable when they were absent. Yet, his Dad had popped back into his life, but this time he hadn’t left. Sometimes, I was a tad bit jealous, if I were honest. Not with him, though, but Skye sniffed it out on me once. I had wished a thousand times over since I was little that my mum was different, that she was a normal mum, and a better one. It never came true that wish, but yet at 28, I still found myself making it without trying. Lasting only moments, I still felt sour with guilt at times for the thought, despite being overjoyed for Harry about the recent development. 

“Have you spoken to your dad lately?” I decide to say, draping my work bag over my shoulder. 

“Ya, um . . yest’day, I think it was. He called me on my way back from tha courts. He’s doin’ a job in Edinburgh but wants t’ get together with us when he’s back. I don’t rememba him bein’ a good cook, but he wants t’ have us over fer dinner at his.” 

“That sounds nice. Would you like that?” 

The house is quiet and dark when we step inside. The typical one word male response comes as I set my shoes next to his on the mat, letting him take my light coat. 

“Shit, kinda forgot ‘bout takeaway. Are leftovers fine, bug?” 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” my answer comes. Harry’s humming fills my ears, and although I love it, my attention is held elsewhere. 

“Let’s wait on dinner,” he announces, but not until his arms come around my middle do I start to pay attention. The two waiting texts before me disappear when Harry gently takes my phone away, setting it down on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea o’ how I could take yer mind off o’ things.” 

I can’t resist, the way my lips split into a smile. The containers of Harry’s famous stir fry are forgotten on the counter when I feel the first kiss he plants to my neck. 

“Oh, really, Mr. Styles, what ever could that be?” it comes out in a giggle, because all control I thought I had is lost with my words. He looks close to one when I turn around in his arms, finding his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Anythin’ ya want, bug, anythin’ at all.” 

“A baby?” I tease, reveling in the sight of his eyes widening. Now, the laugh spills from his decadent, cherry lips. 

“Careful there, Becks, yer gettin’ ahead o’ yerself. Y’know my stipulations on that one,” he jokes, wagging a finger at me. The soft light above the granite top island lends a glow to his face, not that he’d ever need another one, considering the sunshine he holds. I wish I could say the same thing for me, but he whisks it away with those very words. “Y’know ‘ll give you a baby one day, all tha babies you want. But, fer now, what’ll make my bug happiest?” 

My answer doesn’t come in words or a look- well, I may let one go on accident. It’s hard not to while his eyes bore into mine, my hands making their way up his chest underneath his button down. “Will you come and take a bath with me?”

“Certainly. Rough day, bug?” I only nod my head, feeling the knot in my throat when I try to swallow, unable to stop remembering them all. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

My head going from side to side suffices for words, and so does the way I drop my head to his chest. His solid arms come around me, smoothing my hair back with gentle strokes. 

“Sounds like a bath bomb and back massage kinda night.” 

“Thank you,” is all I say, because I know that he knows, without him having to say it. 

“‘Course, my love, jus’ wanna make you happy.” 

Closing my eyes, I try to forget the things that had piled up the last week, and the questions I wish I could ask him, but I’m not sure how. 

I don’t know where it had started, or even when, really. As Harry dips his hand under the bathwater to get it just right, they come floating back to me. The way he had been distant, and yet not, but one outweighed the other. 

“C’mere, my girl,” he coos, inching a finger back and forth, beckoning me over to him. Obliging, the floor is ice cold against my bare feet, but his hands deposit a warmth on my skin I’ve missed. “Can I help you get undressed, honeybug?”

Nodding, I absentmindedly pick a spot on the wall to stare at. It was an imperfection at best, a white divot amongst the soft gray. From one of Harry’s drunken nights nearing a year ago, it appeared one morning and he still hadn’t gotten it fixed. It went unnoticed for lengths at a time, but I wish I could say the same for the things I picked up on this week. The way he’d immediately hang up on a phone call when I entered the room, at work or home. Speaking of his phone, he wouldn’t let me use it when I’d happen to lose mine and needed to look something up, not even to take a picture. Instead, he’d make up some excuse about expecting a call, or that it was about to die, despite seeing his battery was at least half full. It confused me, to say the least, but that only shrank in comparison when it came to the apparent work dinner I wasn’t invited to the other night. Then, there was the entire absence of talking about ring shopping, as if it had never existed. I’d ask if we could go and look at this shop, and he’d agree to it but no more would be said. Or, I’d show him a ring I saw online and he’d have nothing more to say than a one word response. It didn’t help that Skye seemed too busy for me as well, cancelling our weekly dinner to hang out with Asher instead, as if we couldn’t have all hung out together. I could have used one of her pep talks, or so I thought until I mentioned my predicament to her, and she brushed it off, telling me it was probably nothing. That only drove me further up the Worry Wall, now wondering if I was making something out of nothing. 

/

“Alright, bubs?” 

She wasn’t alright, and I could tell. It was clear as day, beginning with the far away look in her eye. It only stuck as I lifted her sweater dress over her head, and peeled her black jeggings from her legs. 

“Pinky P?” she ignored our inside joke and got into the tub first. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I watched her as she rested her chin on her knees that hugged her chest. I wondered if she knew, and if I had been too distant, trying to hide it from her. The last thing I would ever want to do in the world is to hurt her. I’m afraid that while trying to do the most important thing in my life, I’ve hurt her in the process. 

“Becks, wanna go out t’ dinner t’gether on Friday? I heard ‘bout this really great place, I think we’d like it,” she hums an audible confirmation, it’s barely there, whilst holding the raspberry colored bath bomb in her hand. “‘m gonna go and warm up dinner and we can eat it in tha bath. That sound good t’ you, bub?”

“Sure,” she says, again. She usually loves my stir fry, and when she doesn’t request her classic big glass of milk with it to keep the spicyness in check, I know she’s not herself. 

Shit, what have I done? 

I find her eyes have lulled closed after I set my empty dinner plate on the floor on top of hers. “C’mere, li’l one,” I hum, waving my fingers in and out towards her. She groans a denial, content to rest her head on her knees still. I don’t take no for an answer, hooking my hands in the crease of her legs. “Becks baby.” 

Huffing, she lifts her pretty head and stuns me with those eyes. A tiredness sits in them, something more than exhaustion from getting up at six am today. Flashing my award winning smile at her, she at last uncurls herself and wades through the bathwater until I pull her onto my lap. 

Now, the hot water isn’t the only thing keeping me warm when she curls up against my chest. Water collects at the ends of her hair, making it hard to comb my fingers through, but only at first. Peering down at her, I watch as her bare chest rises and falls with breaths, something I once was so afraid of not seeing. To never get to see again. 

I thank my lucky stars on the daily for still being blessed with this sight. Her temple is damp with beads of sweat and water mixed together, but I can still smell it there, the orange blossoms and vanilla. Her smell, one I could inhale forever. 

“‘m sorry ‘ve been so busy lately, I know ‘ve been a bit distant,” it begins as a mumble on my lips, and there’s no stopping it in time. “Know you’ve noticed it too, and that ‘s upset ya.” 

“Is something wrong? Did I-,” her question is spoken gingerly, fear in her voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

“No, ‘course not, bug. Nothing’s tha matter, and you didn’t do anythin’ wrong, please don’t think you did. ‘ve jus’ been busy with a project at work, but I promise it’ll be finished soon,” the thought itself brought to life by my voice teases my lips with a smile, knowing the finish line that I approach. At last. 

“Okay . . thanks, Harry.” 

“Welcome, bubs,” I murmur, exhaling against her forehead. Her forehead is balmy where I rest my lips, letting my eyes shut too, listening to nothing but the sound of her breathing. After all of this time, I still felt a chill in my bones when my thoughts were yanked to her accident. Now, it only makes me feel as if my words didn’t do enough to reassure her, but I wasn’t sure what more I could do without giving it away. No, I couldn’t do that. “I love you so much, Becks, can’t wait t’ marry you one day.” 

“I love you too, Harry,” it’s an almost snigger from her decadent lips. I wait for more, but it doesn’t come, not until she stirs in my arms. 

“What d’ya think yer doin’?” it’s my turn to spill a giggle, watching her move in my arms until she’s facing me. More importantly, straddling my lap and running a hand through my hair. 

Her answers came in a simple shrug of her shoulders, but the tilt to her lips spoke volumes more. My name for her sounds from my lips as a tut, but she quickly whisks it away with her own on mine. The rippling of the bath water around us is the only sound besides the way our lips move together. Her ass is spongy and slick beneath my naked fingers, and her squeal against my lips is heaven and everything more. 

“Can I still take you up on that offer?” her words graze my mouth, craving me to reach forward and return them to mine. 

“What offer, bug?” I ask under hooded eyes, mine boring into hers the color of bottomless oceans. 

It was more than music to my ears, it was everything good stitched together by her lips, “To take my mind off things . . and yours, in the process.” 

“Certainly,” I say, beginning to move until her hands push against my chest. “Use yer words.” 

“Let me.” 

It’s a giggled reply at best, because as she adjusts herself on top of me, any possibility of speaking soon wanes. “Yer bloody confusin,’ y’know that, Becks?” 

“Is this confusing to you, Harry?” she murmurs with a flick of her expressive brows. It’s not her words, but something else that knocks some air out of me. Nearly impossible to notice, her composure has grown since she’s become a lawyer, especially as she starts to rub her crotch against my hardening member. 

“Not at all, baby, jus’ tell me what you need me t’ do.” 

“Kiss me,” she answers, fervor shining in her voice. I don’t even get to laugh before she steals it from me with her lips, bringing a groan from them next when she takes my dick in her hand. 

/

A quiet battle rages inside of me, not wanting her to leave, but at the same time, I need her to. There’s never a day where she doesn’t look beautiful, and on days when she has court she tries even more. She asked me once when I find her the most beautiful, and her first guess was these days when she argued her case, but I said no. It brought her eyebrows together in confusion, pinching her oval face in the cutest of ways. No, I found her the most beautiful in the first light of the morning, in the way sleep clung to every bit of her, making her slower and more . . her. It could be found in the lighty giggles that she painted the air with, the way her nose scrunched together in the middle of one. Her hair swept in different places, and how she clung to me like my own personal koala. If koalas were simultaneously personal heaters. Becks was most beautiful in the morning, because in those first few minutes of waking up, I was reminded anew that she chose to be mine. A dream of mine I doubted over and over about the possibility of. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t need makeup to make her beautiful, but her eyelashes longer from mascara fluttered against her skin with the question. Her dark chocolate eyebrows she swept a pencil over every morning hugged the pale skin between them. 

“Oh,” it plummets from my lips with astonishment, and a clearing of my throat. The left corner of her mouth greets her cheek when the gesture clicks with her. God, sometimes she can still take my breath away by just the sight of her, even several years later. “Ya still manage t’ make me weak in tha knees, y’know that? I dunno how you do it, bug,” I reply with a clicking of my tongue, edging towards her. A shade of coral arrives in her cheeks with my words and proximity, only growing darker when I wrap my arms around her from behind. 

“So do you, you know.” 

“Mmm, thought so, thanks fer tha confirmation, love,” it’s a reply joined by my nose against her temple. Her flighty laugh graces my ears once more, and I’m smiling without knowing it. God, I can’t wait to hear that laugh for the rest of my life. Which reminds me. “You and Rose should get goin’, love, if ya want t’ get t’ tha courts early. Lunch traffic may be bad.” 

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?”

“‘m not, jus’ lookin’ out fer you, ‘s all,” I choose to say, glad she can’t see the way that I check my watch, seeing the texts waiting on my screen. Too similar to how they’re waiting. 

“Okay, Dad. I’ll see you later then, for dinner tonight?” Suddenly, I’m looking into her eyes, the very color I hope our kids have. I know our kids will have them, they’ll be so lucky.

“‘ll see you afta yer done, bug. Good luck on yer case, I know you’ll smash it.” 

“Thanks,” it’s spoken with warmth, one that I know I’ll miss despite wanting her to go. Needing her to go. “Still picking me up after?”

“‘Course, my love. We can’t f’get dinner t’night.” 

“I’m excited. Rose said she likes Isabelle’s,” she comments, wasting her

time by playing with the opal ring on my hand. Mine that she’d stolen for a good while, and I finally took back. “They have really good desserts and steaks.” 

“‘ve heard that too. Can’t wait t’ try some with you t’night,” it comes out with a smile, but I’m never sure that I could ever match hers. It had gotten better over the last few days, I think I was finding a balance between keeping it but not keeping her out. Her lips taste of cinnamon roll coffee creamer and cherry chapstick when I peck her, just how she always does. I could do with kisses tasting like that forever and ever. “Bye, bug. You girls drive safe now.”

“We will. Bye, have a good day.” 

“See ya. Stop putzing, and get goin,’ li’l one,” I titter, savoring the taken aback look on her face when I slap her ass. The sound of her’s fills my ears as I join her in the hallway, watching her walk away and get onto the lift. 

I give it a few more moments, imagining the space placed between us,  hoping she won’t be returning for something she had forgotten. Now, that would be bad. Only once I feel confident, do my feet wake up and I start on my way, contradicted by the way my heart gallops like a horse right out of the gates. 

“Here we go, Harry. One o’ tha biggest days o’ yer lives, jus’ on tha horizon,” I mumble aloud to me and only him, stopping when I reach the door. Already, I can hear their voices from this side, but before I can open it, I fill my lungs with an impatient breath. 

Their sounds slowly fall when I make my entrance, feeling as I’m still running that race inside of my chest, knowing I’m nowhere near the finish line. Perhaps, I’m just a bit closer. When each of their faces lifts to mine, the faces of our families, it imbues me with a shattering sense of reality meeting dreams. One I’ve had held inside of me for so long now. 

“Alright, so ‘bout t’night then. You lot ready t’ help me with this or what?”

/

I thought I knew what I was doing, but when I turned onto our street, I quickly found that I had no idea at all. I was afraid she could feel the clamminess of my hand, or that that feeling of hers would give it away all entirely. The dinner had gone as perfectly as it could’ve, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I only hoped that the next part would, because it was the most important one of all. Arguably, this would be the most important case of my life that I needed to win. A whirring of the garage door gave a background to my thoughts as I tap at my Apple watch, heaving a sigh when I see the text. 

We’re all ready when you are! 

/

Pulling my coat around me tighter, I follow Harry through the garage and into the house. He had promised more chocolate once we had gotten home from dinner. Although it sounded wonderful, I wasn’t sure how I could fit any more in my stomach after the lavish meal we had just stuffed ourselves with. I still couldn’t figure out why he had gone out of his way to have dinner together at one of the most expensive places in town, Isabelle’s. 

I barely get the chance to shrug off my coat when I feel him tug on my hand. His name escapes my lips in a giggle, similar to the one that gleams in his eyes. 

“C’mon, bug, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you,” Harry insists, waiting for me to join him. Leaving the dark downstairs, I follow him up the flight of wooden steps. 

“What’s that?”

“Yer supposed t’ be able t’ see Jupiter t’night in tha night sky. I know ‘s yer favourite one, bug,” I find myself nodding along with his words. Still, I’m unable to tear myself away from the warm gray suit he donned for tonight, the one that started it all for us. 

“Okay, but I really need the loo first.” 

“‘Kay, take yer time. ‘ll try t’ see if I can find it fer us then,” the words leave my lips with a wobbliness to them. If that feeling of her’s was piqued or if she knew something, Becks didn’t let on. All she did was flash me a funny smile before rushing into the bathroom, hardly closing the door. 

No matter the lengths I go to, I can’t seem to breath in long enough. It all was descending upon me, as I peeked out at the back garden and felt a warmth bubbling inside of me and onto my lips. The effervescent feeling carried through in my limbs as I stepped onto the balcony, pressing record before smoothing down my hair and my suit. 

I felt like if it were ever going to happen, my heart would certainly leap from my chest tonight. Just in a matter of moments, for her. Because of her. 

/

“Did you find it, Harry?” I wonder aloud, stepping through the doorway of the bathroom, returning to our bedroom. 

“Y-Ya,” from the balcony of our bedroom, he responds. Was that a stammer, I just heard? “C’mere, bug, lemme show you.” 

“Okay,” my answer comes, and so does a thought when I glance Harry’s phone propped up on our bed with the camera pointing at me. Funny that it landed that way, I wonder when he’s going to break it from tossing it onto our bed so many times, I think quietly to myself. 

The midnight indigo sky beckoned me forth, as did Harry who looked at me over his shoulder. A soft glow from the balcony light fell over us as I stopped at the railing beside him, peering up at the night sky. 

“Alright,” he sighs, stretching out his arm to point a ringed finger at the expanse of darkness. “Ya see that bright light over on tha left hand side o’ tha sky? There it ‘s, that’s Jupiter fer ya. Told ya I knew a thing or two ‘bout space, Becks.” 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” it comes out in a drawn out breath, astonishment dripping from my words. Even if it was just a twinkling light in the night sky, it was that seven letter word beginning with an A. 

A tingly warmth builds on my cheek, and looking to my right, I find Harry smiling at me. For a second, I think I see a wetness collecting in his eyes, but it’s gone when I blink. 

“What?”

My question sits in the air, unanswered by him while he brushes his thumb across my cheek. 

“Yer amazin,’ Becks . . prettier than any star in any sky, my love,” his words are spaced out in between breaths, and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, punctuating the end of his words. The corners of my lips lift into a smile, something he can never fail to do, but it was only one out of many. 

“Thank you, Harry,” I murmur softly, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. In the movement, something catches my eye. The feeling of his prickly cheek against my lips is but a memory as my gaze follows through with its curiosity. “Wait, what’s-.” 

My lips pause and so does the question on my lips when I peer down at our back garden. The trees and bushes are lit up all over by candlelight. A breath gets caught in my throat as the image before me comes together, candles organized with their flames spelling two words. My hand instantly flies to my mouth as my breath escapes me, tears taking their place. 

They read, MARRY ME?

I didn’t hear it or let alone see it, the way he had sunk down onto one knee, but when I turn to face Harry, the first one falls. Down my cheek, and then his. His trademark wheeze paints the air as his sages overflow with tears. Swallowing, I taste the briny ones on my lips as an image I’d dreamt of and doubted fills my eyes. It’s unmistakable, the way his knee shakes, the other bent underneath him as the light catches the gleaming diamond ring held in his hand. 

“H-Harry,” it’s shaky and adorned with tears, but the sight before me becomes clearer when I blink. “Yes, of course, yes!” I exclaim, and he’s laughing deeply. 

“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet, bug,” he chuckles loudly with a shake of his head. “C’mere you, get over here.” Obliging, my legs nudge me over to him where he takes my hand in his. 

“Bloody hell, woman, I memorized this whole speech. Least let me try and say it,” the obnoxious and loud laugh that spills from his lips could never fail to be music to my ears. He blows out a breath from his lips rounded into an O, and we both shed apprehensive giggles. “Have I ever told you all o’ tha things I love most ‘bout you, Becks? I could write a book ‘bout ‘em all, but they start with how kind you always are. Reckon it was tha first thing I noticed ‘bout you after those killer eyes o’ yers on tha day we met. You’ve never stopped being kind t’ me, even when I didn’t deserve it, or when others didn’t. That and how bloody unrelenting you are were tha first things that struck me ‘bout you when you were my assistant, Becks. I never would’ve thought we’d get t’ where we are t’day seein’ where we started, but I could never thank you enough fer not givin’ up on me, Becks . . on us. God, ‘m ramblin’ now, ‘m sorry,” there it is again, his signature wheeze. A similar sound comes from me as we take a breather to wipe at our eyes. The only sound surrounding us is the galloping of my heart, probably his too, and my favorite sound falling from his lips. 

“It’s okay, keep going. You’re doing great,” I urge him in a soft whisper, hoping my wink is half as good as his when he smiles that sunshine up at me. He nods once, squeezing my hand firmly before going back to tracing nervous circles onto my knuckles. 

“Yer humor too, it may be cheesy sometimes, and not as funny as mine,” no, my wink could never be good as the one he gives me now. Effortlessly cute. “But I love it, and so many mo’ things ‘bout you, Rebecca Ann. Tha way you take care o’ me. I know ‘ve said it befo’ but yer so good t’ me with yer cookin’, puttin’ up with my cold feet in bed and tha way I hog tha covers, workin’ t’gether at me firm which I know presents ‘s own set o’ challenges, and how you’ve made me into a better person ev’ry day since I met you. Ya get on me nerves and yer stubborn as a bloody bull, but I can’t imagine spendin’ tha rest o’ me life with anybody but you. ‘s been that way fer years now, love, and I can’t go another day without you knowin’ it.” 

“I do, Harry,” it’s a mere whisper, but his smile soaks it all up, and so does mine for his sunshine. 

“Hey, what’d I say ‘bout you gettin’ ahead o’ yerself here?” his lips couldn’t lift higher and his sunshine couldn’t be brighter. Our heads shake with songs of laughter, my very favorite tune in the entire world. “Yer me favourite thing in this entire world, bug, and I want t’ spend tha rest o’ me life showin’ you that ev’ry day. I wanna have so many babies with you, even a li’l boy named Lennon perhaps, and a li’l girl named Luna, like we’ve said . . I want t’ argue cases with you fer tha rest o’ me career, ‘cos yer me favourite lawyer. Yer my partner, bug, and I always want t’ have you there at my side, Becks . . There’s so much mo’ I could say t’ you, tellin’ you how I love you, but I know I have tha rest o’ me life t’ do it. So, Rebecca Ann Holte-,” he pauses with a frog in his throat, shaking his head. A knot tightens in mine as I watch him press his face into the crook of his arm, crying quietly with a smile. Pulling away after a moment, he exhales and looks to me with a wet smile dripping with sunshine.

“Harry,” I sigh, tears tightening around my words. 

Clearing his throat, he continues, “What d’ya say t’ changin’ that last name o’ yers t’ Styles fer me? Will you marry me, Becks?”

“There’s nothing I’d want more, Harry, than to spend the rest of my life with you,” they’re coated in tears, soon mixing with his when I collapse into his arms, my lips pressed against his. I feel the nervousness spill at last from his lips when they touch the crown of my head, laying kisses there in layers as we shed happy tears. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yer ev’rythin’ ‘ve ever wanted, Becks,” Harry whispers there, pressing me firmly against his front. The light catches the well of tears in his eyes when I belatedly pull away, bringing my hand to his cheek. “My fiancee.” 

“Fiancee . . I like the sound of that,” I murmur, tracing the outline of his bottom lip. He nods with my words, just as a tear falls into the divot in his cheek. 

“Y’know what I like tha sound of?” his voice is gentle and just above a whisper that I answer with my head cocked to the side. “Rebecca Styles. Becky Styles.” 

It couldn’t feel sweeter, the sound that coasts off my lips, him soon replicating it. Even sweeter it tastes when I touch my lips to his, finding that same word in his smiling eyes. Following them, they fall to the mahogany colored wooden box he clutches in his hand. 

“Oh, ya, can’t forget ‘bout this now. ‘s very important,” Harry says, opening the box once again, and I’m brought to tears by the sight of it. 

“Harry, is that-,” I begin, but tears take hold of my voice prematurely, my hand over my mouth in disbelief. Sniffling, his ring laden hand dives into my hair, knowing how it calms me. “H-Her ring?”

Flicking my eyes to his, he hums a reply before his lips part, “Ya, ‘s yer Grandma Ann’s, Becks.” his neck smells of vanilla and sandalwood when I find myself in his arms again, spewing ugly tears onto his shoulder. “Been on tha phone with yer dad almost ev’ry day fer tha last two weeeks talkin’ ‘bout it, ‘bout doin’ this.” 

Hiccups rack my chest when I pull away, eyes gravitating towards the glinting piece of jewelry tucked away into his large hand. “I-I see why you were being so sneaky lately,” I muster, swiping under my eyes. Despite the breaths I try to shove down my lungs, I can’t stop shaking. 

“Ya, ‘m sorry ‘bout that. I thought somethin’ was up with you, figured you’d noticed. Didn’t mean t’ keep you out, Becks, but couldn’t have you findin’ out and spoilin’ all tha fun I had planned fer you,” he murmurs, booping my nose. My eyes fall shut when he presses his lips to my cheek, nudging his face against mine. “Important stuff here . . Now, let’s see if it fits.” 

Gulping, I hold out my hand, wincing at the way it shakes. As I watch his long fingers delicately remove the golden ring from the velvet cushion, I try to remember how I’d come to be sitting on his lap. How all of this had happened. A sigh of relief washes over me when he takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it before his other nears it. With bated breath, my gaze flicks between his hand and his greens that watch the same. 

A smile climbs my cheeks as Harry slides off my promise ring, pressing his lips to the naked skin. Happiness sighs from my lips with a choked sound, watching how he carefully places the thin golden band onto my finger. Folding my fingers into his, his wheeze graces the air as I admire the nostalgic ring.

“They’re me Grandma Claire’s diamonds too, from her wedding ring. She wanted me t’ use ‘em when I told her I was goin’ t’ propose t’ you,” he explains softly as I tilt my hand back and forth, watching how the several diamonds catch the light. 

“Oh, Harry,” it catches in my throat as disbelief paints my insides. Guilt rises with it as I remember growing upset with him in my mind, fearing that this was never going to happen. Now, as I stare down at the ring that seals our promise, I truly can’t fathom it. Seeing is believing. 

I’d seen this ring time and time again whilst growing up, admiring it on several occasions. My gran even let me wear it once or twice, joking that it was because I was her favourite. I never thought I would get to wear it one day myself, and that thought makes my vision swim with more tears. Blinking them away, I brush my thumb over the round diamond set into the middle, and the smaller tear drop shaped ones set into the winding bands of gold connecting to the main band. 

“How’s it fit, bug?” 

“Perfect,” my answer is shy, riddled with memories from the only other time I’d worn it before. It had once swallowed my finger, hanging dangerously loose. Not now. No, it fit me snugly, reminding me of all of the years that had passed. Bringing my eyes to his, the dimples only fall deeper into his cheeks. “It’s more than beautiful, Harry, thank you . . Thank you for letting me keep her with me every day, and Claire too.” 

“Yer mo’ than welcome, Becks. ‘m so happy that they get t’ be a part o’ this with us.” 

My chest only shakes harder when he says those words, and I even feel his do the same against mine. At last, the dryness in my throat wasn’t because of pain or hurting, but for a moment, I let myself feel that. I allow myself to remember speaking with her about when I would get married one day as I wore her ring that was too big for me, wishing for a second that I could go back to that day. 

“Harry, you have no idea how much this means to me . . to get to have her with me for this.” wrinkles gather around his eyes when I see them again. They’re painted with tears, and the mere sight of him makes my heart swell. I never thought it could be this good. No, not when I dreamt out loud with my gran about one day wearing a big, white dress and marrying the man of my dreams. I could have never known that I’d be blessed with a man who was that, and more. “I used to talk to her about my silly little girl dreams of getting married, and she’d let me try on her ring and . . “ I muse, my forehead pressed to his, staring at the ring together. 

“Yer dad told me ‘bout that, it only made it seem even mo’ perfect t’ use her ring. He was so happy t’ pass it on t’ me, Becks- onto you,” Harry whispers, sponging kisses across my face in slow movements. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been smiling, and was sure that I’d never be able to stop, mumbling soft ‘thank you’s to him. 

“Well?!” comes a shout from nowhere. Nearly jumping, my gaze lifts to the balcony railing and the flickers of light I make out through them where the voice had come from. “What’d she say?! We’re bloody dying over here waiting, and freezing our asses off, mind you!” When my eyes meet Harry’s, our giggles light up the air around us, our breaths mingling. 

“I’m fucking freezing! Are you done yet?” comes yet another voice, one that I also recognize. My eyebrows only fall further into a question as I look at Harry. 

His shoulders rise only to fall, “What? Don’t think I set up all o’ those candles and lit ‘em meself, d’ya? ‘s flatterin’ if ya think so, but I had a li’l help.” 

“What, who?”

“Who d’ya think, bug? Our family,” he answers, swiping his thumb underneath my eye to catch a tear. It makes my lips still, the way he said it. They’re my family now, and mine is his. “Care t’ do tha honors, or shall I?” 

“You can. I just know you’re itching to,” it’s a giggle that only grows louder as he lifts his eyebrows at me. 

“She said yes! We’re gettin’ married!” Harry shouts, and a loud cheer follows ensuite from down below. My favorite sound in the world fills my ears when his lips come to press against my head. “My Becks, forever and ever, baby.”

“Forever,” I repeat aloud, trying it out, as if I hadn’t already a million times over in my head. “Wait, who all did you rassle together for this sneaky mission of yours?” 

“We’ll meet you inside, it’s fucking cold out!” Robbie shouts, followed by a loud ‘brr.’

It comes from his lips again, that sound. Tilting my head to meet his eyes, the sound of his heart thumps in my ear. I’m not sure I could have found a better spot. 

“As you can tell by their loud mouths, Skye and Robbie, first o’ all. Then, ‘course yer dad and my mum, me sister, Myles, and Asher,” he grins, pride dripping from every word he speaks. “My Dad helped with tha reservation at Isabelle’s, he couldn’t have spoke higher o’ tha place. I can see why now, can’t picture our pre-proposal dinner bein’ anywhere else. It only made t’night mo’ perfect . . ‘d thought o’ doin’ it with Scrabble tiles, seein’ how ‘s always been our thing, but I wanted somethin’ grander. Mum and Gemma gave me tha idea o’ spellin’ it out bigger ‘til I thought o’ candles. Then, it was jus’ a matter of gettin’ enough o’ ‘em and lightin’ ‘em. I left tha hard part t’ them, and that jus’ left me with tha ring. Reckon that was really tha most difficult o’ all. Me Gran said I could have her wedding ring, I almost started cryin’ I was so choked up ‘bout it. It was that weekend I took ya home with me, seems it made her a li’l emotional talkin’ t’ ya knowin’ what was gonna happen. That was ‘til yer dad said he wanted me t’ have yer Grandma Ann’s ring, seein’ how close tha two o’ you were . . It jus’ seemed perfect, ‘d been thinkin’ so long on what kinda ring t’ get you, and it jus’ clicked. ‘Course, I still wanted t’ include me Gran somehow. Yer Gran’s ring was missin’ a few stones and hers fit jus’ right. I couldn’t be happier ‘bout tha ring, Becks, and it looks so beautiful on you, love. Like . . like it was made fer you, bug.” 

Words escape me, not that any feel like they could do any justice at this moment. No, those ones aren’t anywhere to be found, besides the ‘thank you’ I tell him, and the other one I say to him with my lips. 

I’m unsure if my legs will ever stop feeling like Jello when he helps me stand, my arms around his waist at the soonest chance. His lips radiated sunshine, but this time, every inch of his face did too. It’d spread to his limbs, imbuing me with his contagious rays when his arms come around me, and the way his lips wouldn’t leave mine alone. 

“What are you doing?” it’s a mumbled question laced with pure confusion when he pulls me over to the right side of the balcony. Realization only dawns on me when I watch what he picks up, light at last revealing it. “You recorded it?” there they are again, hugging my voice and refusing to let go. 

“‘Course, I did,” Harry grins, sliding his hand into the cloth handle on the other side of the compact camcorder. “Still am, look at my beautiful fiancee, and soon t’ be wife.” 

“Harry,” it sounds sad until my laugh overwhelms it, because my smile hasn’t even signalled a departure. 

“Look at that dimple shinin’ so bright,” he remarks, thumbing at the indent in my left cheek. It wanders to the imperfection below my eye. His hand is warm and clammy when mine comes to surround it, overflowing his eyes with tears. “And that ring- bloody hell, can’t believe I get t’ marry you- Hey, kids, if yer watchin’ this one day, which I bloody well hope you are, this ‘s yer Mum. ‘sn’t she absolutely gorgeous? I can’t wait t’ marry yer Mummy, she’s truly tha best person ‘ve met in me entire life- well, ‘til we meet you lot.” 

“Harry,” this time, it’s choked with a sob, or a few. His hand comes to his eyes, pressing his thumbs against his greens with that sunshine on his lips. The breathy sound of happiness sings from his lips when he drops it after a few moments of soft tears, staring back at me, his book wide open. 

“Figure we should show ‘em tha main attraction,” panning to the right, I follow him to the balcony where the multitudes of flickering flames still remain. “We’ll hafta go and blow ‘em out.” 

“Not yet. I just want to look at them awhile . . with you.” 

His reply is only a sniffle, amplified by the way he pulls me against his side, pointing the lens at us now. I look past it, down at the ground where the sight still steals the breath from my lungs, just like the pair of lips on my forehead. 

A few moments later, maybe longer, Harry’s whisper breaks through my thoughts, “Ready t’ go downstairs and show ev’rybody?” 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

“Dontchu worry, we’ve got forever, Becks.” 

Usually, I’d roll my eyes at the cheesy line he deals, but I can’t stop staring at him, still smiling at the thought of getting that with him. Forever. 

/

It beckoned me, trying and failing to drag me away, but I still wasn’t ready. Soft snores had begun to leave his lips long ago. I’m not even sure what the hour was anymore. Skye was the last to leave, to nobody’s surprise, when the small hand was nearing the eleven. Chocolate galore, charcuterie boards, pizzas, and sparkling grape juice filled the hours amongst more crying and stories upon stories. Harry’s clothes were the first to go once we were alone, and mine followed his soon after. 

I wondered if I’d ever stop thinking about it, or more importantly, stop staring at it. Only the least bit of light ran through the barely closed curtains, catching the ring, just like it’d always been. I also wondered when I’d stop crying, it was a little embarrassing when it happened in between the sheets with Harry. 

His stirring beside me brought my eyes upward and to him. Lines gathered on Harry’s forehead in his sleep, relaxing a second later. A huff fell from his lips and into the air as he relaxed, an inked arm stilling underneath his pillow. With a long blink, I belatedly tug the covers over my shoulders, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. He didn’t groan anymore or even move at the touch, or when the tip of my finger begins to trace the lines of the numbers hovering over his heart. The year that started it all, a three letter word that now had turned into forever, something I never thought I would get to have with him. I fall asleep with the smile still stuck to my lips, unwavering against the warm skin of his neck. 

/

A few days later, and it still hadn’t worn off. Secretly, I was hoping that it never would. Again, the smile still came when I caught sight of the promise on my finger, and was only a reach away. When I stopped in front of the sink in our ensuite bathroom, it fell when I called to Harry with a question, but only for a moment. 

“Babe, have you seen my pill pack?”

“No, I don’t think so. Have you checked tha usual spots?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I put it,” sighing, I pad across the cold, tile floor. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I’ll find it.” 

* 

Song: Let’s Get Married by The Bleachers (click to listen) ;) ;) 

[evans-heaven]

You’re Here~s.m.

Long ass, unedited fluff. Sorry if it seems rushed. Also not my best work but something is better than nothing lmao  😘

Hope you lovelies enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~

My parents didn’t want us together.

We wanted to be together. But it was our word against theirs. Sure, it was our relationship, but with parents like mine, having something be yours meant it was theirs too. It meant decisions had to be made about that something by them too. It meant if what they wanted was ultimately more realistic, plausible, sensible etc. that their choice was end game.

It meant my word didn’t matter. They didn’t want us together.

We met two years ago. I was about to start college. He was world famous singer, on his fourth world tour, at the time on the NA leg. I never thought we’d come across each other in the way we did. Hell, I never thought we’d come across each other period.

For the most part, I knew of him. For the lesser, I wasn’t a big fan of those pop boys anyway, so I didn’t care for the fact that he had walked up to me in a crowded cafe in St. Louis, where I was from, and asked if the seat across from me was taken. I said no, he sat, and there we were, in silence, until a server came to take his order.

I only began to pay care when he ordered the exact same thing I did- Caffe Americano with coconut milk, and a blueberry muffin cut in half, buttered just the right amount.

“What’d you just say?” I had asked, leaning forward, not believing the odds for even a second. Everyone I knew hated coffee with coconut milk and thought butter on muffins was useless- “didn’t they already use butter to make them?”

He recited his order again, smiling, bearing his white, slightly crooked teeth that made him only a smidgen imperfect. The rest of him was so flawless, from his curly chocolate tufts of hair to his indented chin. And in that moment, I began to grow fond of those features I had only been in the presence of for a mere 10 minutes.

We talked, and talked, and talked. He had a day off before his show the following day, and wanted some alone time. I was nervous about college starting in a few weeks, and wanted someone alone time as well. Who knew a crowded cafe would lead us to each other? Sure, the amount of people didn’t constitute as alone, but we found what we wanted as we conversed.

We talked until the cafe workers began to place the chairs upside down on the tables, clear the remaining pastries in the display, and wipe down the counters. Eventually, we had to be kicked out. And, after finding out that we shared a mutual love of what everyone else found nasty or stupid, we couldn’t simply say good bye. So, we walked around town, and we talked some more. I showed him around the general area and made him buy at least 5 St. Louis Cardinals T-Shirts, and a signed baseball and bat. I showed him the Gateway Arch, where he asked for my number. Then, we sat on the edge of a fountain and complained about how crazy our lives were getting, but at same time, agreed that change was good. He was getting more and more famous, and I was gearing up to begin my journey of being a writer. I wasn’t much of a talker, but that night, I yapped until my jaw hurt and my words were tongue tied.

We didn’t get tired until we drove home in an uber and I fell asleep on his shoulder. It was one of the best sleeps I had in a long time.

The following day, he called me. That night, he called me again. He called me every day in the months leading up to winter break, until he couldn’t take it anymore. At the start of my it, he flew me out to see him at the Jingle Bell Ball in London and it was like we hadn’t seen each other in years.

Of course, I had to lie to my parents about my whereabouts. They hadn’t yet known about our ‘romance’. I was a very open girl with them, never liked to hide anything, and, as a result, though they were demanding and strict, they trusted me. That was the first time I had ever hidden anything so important from them.

And God, was Shawn something important. One of the most in my life.

Backstage at the show, in his dressing room, he kissed me for the first time and we became official.

When we were a couple (before anyone other than his team and a few of my friends knew) we saw each other enough. When I was on vacation, I’d often sneak away for a week to see him. Of course, my parents would wonder why I didn’t come straight home at the start of break, so I’d have to lie and say I was spending some time with a friend from uni in an undisclosed location. I could remember the many antic we part took in. From running through the streets packed with locals who spoke a language we couldn’t even begin to comprehend, to eating overpriced delicacies until we were confined our toilets, to dancing terribly and literally french kissing under the Eiffel Tower.

It had felt like we were the answers to each others’ prayers, because I wanted a guy who would take me away, and he wanted a girl who would let him lead her through his tiring, yet exciting life.

More often than not, since I started college, I would have to visit him on tour. I didn’t mind though, I had seen so many places I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. He had flown me out to Moscow, Beijing, Oslo, Dubai, Paris, and a few other beautiful countries that hadn’t been on my radar. Why would they be? I was a small town girl who, until then, the furthest she had ever been from home was Connecticut to visit her senile grandparents.

Anywhere I had gone with Shawn had knocked that down several spots. And I knew that was a tell tale sign my life lacked adventure.

Until he came along.

In many ways, we could have made it work.

In many more ways, my parents felt it was too impractical, and therefore we could not make it work.

I was a college student, barely into my second year when they found out. We made the mutual decision to tell them, and it did not end well, in any way, shape, or form.

There wasn’t any yelling, just a calm, reasonable conversation. They laid out what I feared they would- Shawn traveled too much, and I had to focus on my studies.

Ultimately, it ended with me crying in Shawn’s arms on my front porch after we were forced to say goodbye. 

Long story short, for the millionth time, we couldn’t be together.

But, that didn’t mean we couldn’t secretly try to.

I was done with my second year, back home in St. Louis for the summer. That week with Shawn didn’t happen this time around, considering my parents now knew what we had been doing, which meant we couldn’t very well do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend to visit ‘Valerie’ ( a fake person I had made up to disguise my actual plans with Shawn) anymore because they knew what I would really be doing.

Being broken up meant he couldn’t take me away like he used to. So I had to go back home to my mini mansion in St. Louis with a frown on my face the entire flight and fake smile as I greeted my parents.

Back home, things hadn’t changed within the few months I was gone, which actually shocked me. I was both relieved and confused that I came home to a room that looked exactly the same, because I was expecting my mother to turn it into some sort of scrap booking room or library. She would always threaten to do that.

I lived in a house that looked like it belonged on one of those sitcoms with the perfect family that comprised of lovable characters who taught valuable lesson, with its white picket fence, paved two car drive way,  and rose garden. After 19 years of seeing the same scenery almost every day, it was safe to say that college made me miss those cliche little things. They weren’t special, but, as bitter as I was, it was home.

I lay in my bedroom, a step down from the master one, that was the first door one came to after they ascended the staircase. A book was in front my face as I sprawled on my bed with my head hanging off the edge.

It could be considered a crime to read during summer break, but as someone who had spent the majority of her time with her nose in any sort of novel or text book, it was the only pass time I knew.

That, and spending time with Shawn, in some far off place that made me feel like I was in a fairy tale without my parents knowing. I hadn’t seen him in months. We texted- scarcely. He was busy and so was I, so that whole “maybe we can still be friends” speech he gave me the exact same night we ‘broke up’ didn’t quite come into play. It was classic. People would agree to stay friends but never actually be friends.

We still loved each other, though. Three word text messages conveyed so much more than they were given credit.

There was knock on my door that pulled me out of my thoughts and made me drop my book. I groaned and flipped into an upright position, trudging over to my door and opening it. 

My mom stood on the other side, smiling. By the way she was dressed, I knew she and dad were going out, and that she was here to guilt me into coming too.

“We’re going to Bella Italia for dinner, get dressed and come with us!”

I opened my mouth but she kept going. “Come on, sweetie, get out of the house for a bit!” she grinned.

I hated Italian food.

“Okay,” I sighed, giving a tiny smile for good measure. I didn’t actually want to go anywhere. I just agreed so I wouldn’t have to go down the “your father and I haven’t seen you in so long” road I knew all too well.

“That’s my girl!” she exclaimed. “Hurry, we’re leaving in fifteen,” she said. She closed the door softly and I flopped back on my bed, expelling a groan before standing back up and walking over to my closet.

It was the same routine. We’d spend time together for one night, and then it was back to being like I didn’t even come home. Mom and Dad were both business people, so they were always off dealing with something or the other to do with their self made firms. Our time spent was near non-existent now.

If I knew what was best for me, I would suck it up and go with them. I no longer had that week of bliss to look forward to with Shawn to make my dull and forgettable time home like a flash in a pan.

It took me all of five minutes to find an outfit. After throwing it on and running a brush through my unsightly hair, I grabbed my phone and was about to head out my door, but a tiny rap on my bay window glass stopped me. My hand on the knob, my head pivoted in the direction of the noise.

Instinctively, I grabbed the baseball bat and crept towards the window as the rapping continued. As I drew closer, I could see that the noise was caused by tiny pebbles being thrown at the glass. Who was that?

When I reached the window and couldn’t see the culprit, I sucked in a breath and set the baseball bat down. I pulled the handle of the window down, opening it only by a few inches.

“Y/N?”

That voice-like titanium under silk- was all too familiar. And it was also missed. Desperately.

“Shawn?” I whispered as my brows elevated. I opened the window as much as I could and thrust my upper body outside. There he stood, in all his bisque, blushing glory, in his lighting bolt patterned button up, black jeans and boots. His hair was a curly mess, hanging over his forehead in loose waves, the tighter curls sitting atop his head. I could see the glisten of sweat across his his cheekbones and temples.

“Hey, darling,” he smiled, that warm, inside melting smile that was forever imprinted in my mind, never to leave.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Forget being shocked, I was way too happy about his random visit to even pretend to wonder how the hell he even got to St Louis.

Then, I remembered. He told me he had a concert that night. And that while on stage, I was the only thing he’d be able to focus on. A crowd filled with tens of thousands of people all there to see him perform, and yet someone who wasn’t even part of said crowd was the prime occupant of his thoughts.

“You’d think I’d be in St Louis and not find a way to see you?” he questioned, placing his hands on his hips and smirking.

I could only giggle. “I guess it was kind of expected,” I shrugged. I mean, a crazy part of me was actually hoping that he would, some way, some how, try to come see me. But then I stopped myself before I got my hopes up, because with my parents home and the fact that he probably had to leave the state immediately after his concert to get to the next stop, there was no way he would be able to see me.

But, like many times before, Shawn Mendes stayed proving me wrong for all the right reasons.

“Hey, uh, can you find a way to get me up? I saw your parents’ car in the driveway, so coming through the front door isn’t exactly an option,” he chuckled, thumbing behind him in the direction of the driveway.

Shit. My parents. We were still going to dinner so I couldn’t let him up. It made no sense, and I couldn’t make him wait until we got back because I knew his time was limited. I knew he setting himself up for a huge scolding from his manager, Andrew when he got back to the venue to meet the tour bus. Would it be worth it?

But I hadn’t seem him in so long.

“Uh,” I mumbled, gnawing on my pinky fingernail. I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded at him. “Yeah, babe, one sec,” I said, walking away from the window, looking for something long enough to get him up. The drop from the bay window to the ground wasn’t that far, so I quickly tied my comforter and a bed sheet from the trunk at the foot of my bed together.

I through it out the window towards him, and withing seconds, he was in my room. 

No words between us, he grabbed my face in the soft grip and pressed his lips against mine. The first physical contact we had received from each other in a long time and I couldn;t have asked for it to be more perfect.

Our lips moved at a passionately slow pace, sliding against each other, almost devouring each other. My fingers gripped his biceps tightly, my fingernails leaving faint marks in his skin as the kiss intensified.

“God, baby I missed you so much,” he said in between sloppy kisses. His tongue shoved its way past the barrier that my lips had formed and I sucked in a breath through my nose, like I always did when he would make that action. Shawn kissed me and handled me like no one else had ever done before. It always left me breathless, thankful, and yearning.

After a full minute, a knock at my door pulled us apart. Or, at least it should have. He pecked me a few times more (maybe a little too much) and bit my lower lip, pulling on it a bit (which made me expel a hushed moan) before releasing me just in time for be to respond to my mom’s call.

“Y/N, sweetie you ready?” she asked, not opening the door yet, and thankfully she didn’t, because I’d either have to shove Shawn into the bay window drawer or get caught in a lie.

I felt like shoving him into the drawer would be less painful.

“Not quite, mom!” I yelled, cursing in my head.

“Are you going somewhere?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly and pressing kisses along the side of my face. His plump lips could melt from the contact of my heated skin.

“Not anymore,” I mumbled, falling into his touch even more. “Uh, mom, I totally forgot I have uh.....uh a report due at the beginning of the semester! I wanna get a head start!” I said loud enough for her to hear.. I had pulled away from Shawn a little so I was practically yelling in his ear, but his arms stayed tight. He ran his nose across mine before touching my forehead with it, and giving me a small feather of a kiss there. I giggled lightly and ghosted my lips across his, causing him to nip back at mine, white made me giggle some more.

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked, and I prayed she didn’t open the door and catch us.

“Yeah, mom, maybe another night, I promise!” I said, now exasperated and desperate for her to leave us alone. Or rather me, since as far as she was concerned, I was the only one in the room.

“Alright,” she said, and I could hear the shadow of disappointment in her voice.The only thing I felt bad for was not feeling as bad as I should have for bailing on this dinner. But there were other nights, as long as there was the assurance that she and dad wouldn’t be working.

A very minor possibility, but all I wanted to focus on was Shawn at that moment.

“We’ll be back around 12:00, sweetie! Goodnight,” she bade me, and I waited a few seconds before reaching up and attatching my lips to Shawn’s once again, only for him to pull away gently.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Don’t you think spending time with you parents is more important than me?” he asked, removing his arms from around my waist and taking my hands in his, lacing our fingers together.

I blinked. “Shawn, I have the entire vacation with them,” I said. We both knew that wasn’t true, but for the moment, we would believe it.

“And only an hour or two with me,” he nodded.

“Sooner or later Andrew is gonna figure out you’re missing,” I said, raising my brows like a parent who knew there statement was correct.

“Nah, I think he knows where I am,” he laughed. “Pretty sure he caught a glimpse of me sneaking out the back entrance of the venue,”

“The fans?” I asked, cringing. They were like the FBI or something, or some sort of mutant species that could pinpoint his exact location without him having to  say or post anything. I was suddenly worried they would have followed him to my house, resulting in a huge crowd on the streets. They would only leave if he would, and since I didn’t want him to, that meant that the crowd would stay as long as they could until he gave them what they wanted. And how the hell would explain a freaking sea of teenagers piling up outside my house to my parents?

“Hey, don’t worry,” he assured, brushing some strands of hair out of my face. The faintest of touches- the strongest wave of emotions. My heart rate sped up. “I’m sure no one caught me except Andrew. I had my hoodie up until halfway here, I ditched it on a bus stop bench,” he chuckled.

I shook my head. “Well, as long as you’re here,” my arms latched around his neck as his went back to my waist. He kissed my cheek, his lips maintaining contact as the seconds went by. I could feel the faint breaths from his nose land upon my cheekbones. He wasn’t here for long, and if we would have to spend that time kissing, we would. “I wish we could always hold each other,” I lamented.

He looked at me, removing his lips. His lust filled mahogany gaze bore into me. “We’ll figure this out, baby. I promise,” he mumbled.

“Whatever,” I sighed, smiling. “Right now, this is what I call perfect,”

~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m gonna make more parts to this, like an imagine of them meeting in the cafe or one of their adventures in Europe :) because this is just too freakin cute to pass up lmao

Hope you enjoyed  😘

[mugiwara--ya]

also like. fuck dermatillomania, seriously.

this was supposed to be a short post but fuck it lol this is HUGE 

when i had my first really bad breakout at like, 18 (from fucking contraceptivesl!!!!!! like before i did have a couple uh..idk if i would call em breakouts, but like you know, just regular teen acne, and my gyn was like “you have a bit of acne so these pills are gonna help ya!!” FUCK YOU I BARELY HAD ANYTHING) i remember waking up one day, rubbing my eyes, then touching my forehead. and i felt a TON of tiny bumps. i was like, the fuck? and i wiped my forehead with my bed sheets because i thought i had dirt or somethig on my face. and i touched again and they were still there. i immediately got up and looked at my big mirror, and i swear it was like half an hour straight of just looking at my forehead, with dozens of closed comedones, and it was.. it was terrible. people used to tell me how pretty my skin was, that my face was so soft and perfect, and asking me which products i used (i did have a skincare routine because i couldnt risk fucking up my face, i’ve always picked at every single imperfection so i had to make sure i had none to begin with)

so yeah i fucking panicked. my skin was my confidence. i barely used bb cream for dark circles or when i wanted to look extra nice, and that would be it. my appearance was (is) everything to me. 

and thats when derma fucked up my life (now that i think about it i DID almost die of an infected wound that i picked at when i was a toddler but ANYWAYS). im pretty sure that if i had just taken care of it as a normal fucking person, it would have just gone away, healed, the end. i even stopped taking those pills. but i picked at it. i picked and scratched and squeezed and put needles on those hideous fucking things because i just needed to get them out. i would spend HOURS every day picking at my skin. and it only made it worse. not only those didnt go away for a few months, not only did i cause terrible scarring, but i pretty much spread all that nasty shit all over my face. and yeah, my acne itself was never TERRIBLE, at the beginning most people couldnt even tell and with just a bit of makeup i was ready to go! but i just..kept picking at it. because i was terrified. i made scar after scar. painful acne would grow under those scars. and i would pick at it even if the previous one wasnt done healing. my mom would look at me and tell me how hideous i looked. “put on some makeup i dont want to go out with you looking like that”. i would go into work and they would tell me “the fuck did you do to your face now?!” 

it wasnt acne itself. it was all the scarring i made. you can cover up acne with foundation. but scabs? open wounds? it looks like shit. and i put on makeup anyways, and i literally wasnt able to go out without it, but i always knew everyone could see my scabs. patchy, ugly, painful looking scabs. i was ashamed of it. my confidence was gone. i felt uglier every day. i knew it was all my own fault. everyone kept telling me “just stop picking at it”.

but i got so desperate. so anxious. i used to have anxiety attacks when i tried to lie down and not pick at my face. i tried picking at ingrown hairs on my legs to distract me and it worked for a while, but as soon as i saw my reflection i was gone, like i couldnt control myself, i dissociated completely and when i was back on my body i looked at my face and just cried. i cried and cried because i fucking did it again. 

this lasted for about three-four years i think, and it got even worse when my actual acne got Very Bad between last year and this year, especially because i had run out of all the skincare products that actually worked and didnt have money for new ones so i tried to settle down for local products (that didnt work), i was stressed the fuck out because i had secretly dropped out of university, my hormones were crazy (endometriosis ayyy), and idk it was Bad. but then again. my acne was never REALLY terrible, like yeah it was worse, but never like cystic acne or like full face of it (i had on my forehead, nose, inner sides of my cheeks, around my mouth and chin, like mostly the center of my face) and i never had that many violent painful pimples at the same time (mostly because i would pick em out as soon as i could) but THE SCABS. My skin also got really oily and my pores were fucking huge, and even if thankfully my skin is pretty good at healing itself (i dont have deep scars, its mostly hyperpigmentation with little to no texture after it has fully healed) no matter how fast my scabs healed (a couple weeks usually) i always made myself new ones, like !! why !! 

now, a few months ago, i started taking contraception again. another brand, because i couldnt stand period pains anymore. and this time..it actually helped! my skin got a bit less oily, i started getting less pimples, and a bit after that, i finally bought new (korean) skincare. the only non-prescription skincare that has ever worked for me lol. etude house i owe you my life. i also stopped smoking cigs, and i’ve really been trying to eat healthier. trying. shut up

and i finally started getting better, slowly!! and i dont know, just having a routine helped a lot in regaining my confidence, taking care of my skin helped my anxiety, and i kept thinking “i spent a SHIT TON OF MONEY on these things, i’m not gonna ruin it by picking”. and yeah i still did it/do it every now and then, but WAY LESS than i used to, and now i strategically pick at stuff that can be easily covered up by hair, i never put my hands directly on my face (i wrap my fingers in cloth or something), and always clean my face afterwards, im a Conscious Picker™ now

and last week i finally decided to go see a dermatologist! (ABOUT TIME!!) and yeah she told me most of my skin problems are due to excoriating, and my actual acne can be treated easily, and gave me a bunch of prescription products to help get rid of it and control my oily ass face. and bitch!!!! just five days in and MY SKIN ALREADY LOOKS SO SO SO MUCH BETTER! (LIKE IGNORING THE FACT THAT I HAVE TWO HUGE SCABS NEAR MY MOUTH AND TWO MORE ON MY FOREHEAD AND A LOT OF HYPERPIGMENTATION)

and im just. i look at the mirror and i wanna cry. i wanna cry because im getting better. im scared of ruining it, but im just so motivated. this time im not letting my anxiety get in the middle of what i want. im insecure, i still struggle to believe im beautiful with or without acne or scars, but im worth the try, i deserve to take care of myself and do things that make me happy, and if im vain ! whatever! feeling my skin soft makes me happy! looking at the mirror and loving how i look makes me happy! keeping a routine, washing my face, putting on creams till i look like a glazed donut, it makes me happy!  going out without makeup and not caring makes me happy! putting on makeup and not caring if some scabs or hyperpigmentation still shows because i know its all getting better, it makes me happy! 

i am stronger than i thought and i am stronger than the anxiety derma gives me. i just needed to work out a way to go around it lol. also im tired as fuck and ive been writing about this for like two hours. no one is gonna read this but whatever lol i love myself!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BITCH I LOVE MYSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GLOWING!!!

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The world's top makeup artists predict the beauty look Meghan Markle will choose on her big day

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-worlds-top-makeup-artists-predict-the-beauty-look-meghan-markle-will-choose-on-her-big-day/

The world's top makeup artists predict the beauty look Meghan Markle will choose on her big day

While the country counts down to the hottest wedding of the year, we’ve got one major question about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s Royal wedding.

Which beauty look will she go for? Will she play it safe and opt for a classic look or go bold? Jade Beer, the author of The Almost Wife, has answers.

She spoke to the top makeup artists in the industry to find out their predictions for Meghan’s big day beauty look. Prepare for some serious inspo…

Sophie McMullan, Beautisserie

I know Meghan is a fan of Giorgio Armani Luminous Silk Foundation, which I favour too. It photographs beautifully, feels light on the skin and has a buildable coverage that looks natural. She always likes to have her freckles showing through her base, and this allows for that, whilst still covering any imperfections and redness. For longevity, she may want a primer, her day-to-day favourite being Laura Mercier’s Illuminating Primer [now called Tinted Moisturizer], which she often wears alone. But for her big day, it’s best to go with one that has fewer light-reflecting properties, as these will make her look blown out in the flash photography.

Meghan Markle’s father WILL give her away at the royal wedding

Meghan’s favourite eye pencil, MAC’s Teddy, is also a staple in my kit. It’s a beautiful warm brown that has hints of bronzy golden tones which will bring out the warmth in her eyes. It’s also one you can use inside the waterline, should she want to intensify the look for evening. For lips, instead of her usual Charlotte Tilbury Very Victoria, which is a brown-toned nude, I’d urge her to go for a fresher, pinkier shade such as Pillow Talk. A cult classic blusher, and one you’ll find in Meghan’s make-up bag, is Orgasm by Nars. This might be a little too shimmery for the classic bridal look I’m sure Meghan is going for, so I’d be tempted to use a similar peachy tone but one that has more of a satin finish. I’d then use highlighter over the top with strategic placement; cheekbones, bridge of nose, inner corners of eyes and Cupid’s bow. I favour Becca’s, as they’re not chunky or glittery and give you that ‘glowing from within’ look.

Without question, eyelash curlers are integral. I use these on every single client of mine, wedding or otherwise. Meghan likes a very polished look, and these will help her achieve that perfectly – they’ll open up her eyes, making them look bigger, and lift her lashes so they’re more visible and therefore look longer. Shu Uemura’s have been in my kit since the beginning of my career – I cannot live without them. As an extra tip, she should start with waterproof mascara, then a thickening mascara, then apply waterproof again to seal it all in, bullet-proof.

Zoe Taylor, Chanel

Meghan is such a natural beauty with great skin, but even so I would always start with a mask, to help her to relax and enjoy her day – it’s also a great way to get skin prepped for a wedding. Sisley Black Rose is such a favourite of mine – it’s so luxurious and works very efficiently. It is important to use a good primer; Chanel Le Blanc is great and helps with the longevity of make-up.

Then I would use a very light foundation or tinted moisturiser (I think Chanel Les Beiges Tinted Moisturizers are great, as the formula is light but with nice coverage), plus concealer to even out skintone. Charlotte Tilbury’s The Retoucher is good, as it can be used as a concealer and a brightener. Meghan’s brows are so perfect, I would just set them with Troy Surratt and if they needed any tiny bits filled in I would use Chanel Stylo Sourcils brow pencil, as this is a very natural way to add in brow hairs.

Betting has been suspended on Meghan Markle’s wedding dress after flurry of bets are placed on one designer…

Meghan doesn’t need so much eye make-up as she has a beautiful natural contour around her eyes, so I would concentrate on a soft brown liner (Tom Ford Eye Kohl Intense in Metallic Mink) blended into the lash line on top, and a curled lash. A little soft highlight of colour over the lids to help set the liner (Decorte Eye Glow Gem in BE390) is stunning.

A waterproof mascara is ESSENTIAL – Chanel Le Volume de Chanel Waterproof Mascara is great.

I’d use just a healthy flush of colour on the cheeks – Chanel Rouge Coco Lip Blush is great for achieving sheer, buildable colour. To finish, I’d apply natural lip liner to add a tiny hint of definition, and a fresh rosebud lip colour. Chantecaille Lip Chic in Camellia would be lovely, or Chanel Rouge Coco Shine in Boy if she wanted a hint of colour and healthy shine.

Anna Priadka, Makeup54

Meghan needs colours and textures that won’t date – so that in 50 years’ time, people will look back and still think her make-up looks modern and elegant. You only need to look at Princess Diana’s wedding make-up to see that – it still looks fresh and beautiful now.

Getting Meghan’s complexion right is crucial and she should never compromise with a cheap base. A long-wear, transfer-resistant foundation, a concealer and powder are musts. Primer will also come in handy, to help your make-up wear more evenly throughout the day. Getting a professional shade match is super important. Meghan will be having lots of photos on the day, and will possibly be wearing a low-cut dress or having her shoulders on show, so her base must match the colour of her body.

I think Meghan’s make-up looks great day to day, so I’m sure her wedding make-up will be a hit. She seems to know her own face and what suits her. However, as a tip to all brides-to-be, don’t go with what’s trending. The Instagram-effect, overly highlighted, immaculately contoured look may be what’s in now, but in 30 years’ time it won’t be.

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s cutest moments

Charlotte Tilbury

Skincare is always so important but especially in the lead-up to your wedding, so that you’ll have the most perfect skin on the day. I always say you can’t have a beautiful painting without a beautiful canvas. I believe that the key to magic skin is looking after and maintaining the best skin of your life, and in order to look gorgeous and flawless on your special day, glowing, luminous skin is a must.

I follow the same skincare routine every day. The first thing I do in the morning to get my instant glow is cleanse with my Multi-Miracle Glow balm. Enriched with vitamins and floral extracts, this cleanser gives the complexion a youth boost. I then multi-mask with my Goddess-Skin Clay Mask, followed by my Instant Magic Facial Dry Sheet Mask. The glow-giving, lifting effects last for eight hours – this is also perfect to use on the morning of the wedding to prep your complexion before applying make-up.

Then my Magic Cream will give every bride the perfect glowing base for her big day. After that, I’ll apply either my ‘Gisele-in-a-jar’ Wonderglow (it has a fluorescent core technology which means it soft-focuses lines and pores and re-emits natural light from your skin, giving you a natural, lit-from-within radiance) or my Brightening Youth Glow, my magic skin solution which instantly blurs, brightens and smooths for the most gorgeous, glowing, dewy, ethereal complexion – I liken it to Liv Tyler in The Lord Of The Rings.

To conceal tired eyes from a sleepless night, every bride needs my Mini Miracle Eye Wand – it’s like eight hours’ sleep in a wand. It has a peptide-packed serum that helps to smooth the appearance of fine lines, and an illuminator with a magic ingredient called a million lights that bounces out any darkness that gathers in the under-eye domes for more wide-awake, bigger, brighter-looking eyes. To conceal imperfections, use my The Retoucher – it acts like a natural plaster to help disguise blemishes. Use it anywhere you need a bit more coverage for a flawless finish.

Meghan Markle: Her gorgeous hair & makeup moments

For foundation, if you’re looking for a natural, flawless, glow-giving finish, try my Light Wonder Foundation. Or, for fuller coverage with a hydrating, flawless finish, my Magic Foundation feels as light as air on the skin and the Supercharged Vitamin C ingredient helps give a matte appearance, perfect for any wedding-day nerves. Remember, at your wedding, you’ll spend a lot of your time outside, so you must find the perfect foundation to match your skintone; check the colour in natural daylight. Get your biggest, brightest, most sparkling-looking eyes EVER for your wedding day with my brand-new Bigger, Brighter Eyes eyeshadow palettes, which enhance the appearance of eye size. Inspired by those sparkling, eye-widening filters on social media, I have colour-curated and coded the palettes using those gorgeous universal reddy tones which naturally colour contrast and brighten the iris to make the eyes look instantly bigger and brighter. It’s what I call ‘putting the lights into the eyes’.

Once your make-up look is complete, it’s important to finish with a finely milled powder to lock it in effortlessly and keep everything from slipping, from the walk down the aisle to the party. It also removes any unwanted shine for all your gorgeous wedding photos. My Airbrush Flawless Finish powder will blur away any lines or imperfections to softly mattify and keep everything in place – it’s like the highest-thread-count cashmere for your skin. It is also enriched with rose wax and almond oil so it won’t sit heavily on the skin. I only like to use powders on the T-zone – down the nose, on the chin and across the forehead. I always keep the cheekbones free of powder so that they remain dewy and catch the light.

Keep a well-sharpened lipliner close by – this will be your best friend. Not only does it literally resize and reshape your lips, but you can also use it as a stencil to make your lipstick last longer.

Meghan Markle’s style… it’s not just suits, y’know

If you want to draw attention to your lips, you can easily modernise your bridal look by opting for a matte-textured lipstick. My Matte Revolution lipstick doesn’t dry the lips and stays put, even on your wedding day. My Very Victoria and Pillow Talk shades are gorgeous dreamy nudes for your wedding-day lip – perfect for the first kiss as a married couple!

Lisa Potter-Dixon, Benefit

Meghan’s signature look consists of gorgeous dewy skin, bronzer, great brows, liner, lashings of mascara and a nude lip. This is definitely a look that I could see her creating for the big day. It’s simple and timeless and would look gorgeous in the world’s press pictures.

For brides, I always say that great brows and base are key. Using a fibre gel through your brows (such as Gimme Brow+) is a must, as it gives a natural, soft finish. Base wise, primers are a great way to keep your make-up in place for longer, as well as helping you get a flawless finish. Stick to the foundation you know and love. Meghan is going to have the world’s press snapping her every move, so she should avoid an oily formulation. Don’t let your make-up artist convince you to wear something you’re not comfortable with – there’s nothing worse than feeling you have tons of make-up on when you prefer a natural finish, and the reverse is also true if you prefer a heavy base.

Eye wise, a bronze smokey look is always a winner. Remember, you want your pics to be timeless. If you want to change up your look from day to night, add a bright lip or a touch of sparkle in the centre of your eye for evening. Never compromise on time – make sure you give yourself plenty to get ready. Trust me, this is coming from a girl who did her wedding make-up in three minutes and 56 seconds (yep, my dad timed it and put in in his speech!).

Priyanka Chopra calls Meghan Markle a ‘princess for the people’ in touching tribute

Fred Letailleur, YSL Beauté

Touche Éclat is a not only a bridal must-have, but it’s also a favourite of Meghan Markle’s. It will erase signs of fatigue and you can trust it to keep you looking rested for the whole wedding day. Face primers are also a wedding staple. Apply Blur Primer with your fingers or a flat foundation brush to keep your skin radiant, matte, soft and silky; it will smooth out any open pores or uneven skin texture. All Hours Foundation, which comes in 22 different skintones and three undertones, is a great high-coverage, smudge-proof foundation for weddings as it lasts 24 hours on any skin type. Always invest in a fresh mascara to avoid clumpy lashes on the day – my favourite is False Lash Effect Mascara for natural added volume. Finish with two sprays of YSL Hydrating Setting Spray – it refreshes and hydrates the skin and will stop make-up from looking cakey.

Debbie Finnegan, MAC

For Meghan I would recommend: MAC Mineralize Timecheck Lotion to blur and perfect for an instant ‘beauty filter’ vibe; MAC Strobe Cream in Peachlite for a fresh, youthful luminosity that would complement her skin; MAC Studio Fix Fluid Foundation SPF15 applied in a sheer way to allow her beautiful freckles to show but still give a long- lasting, fresh, natural coverage and finish. MAC Eye Shadow x 9 in Amber Times Nine would contain all of the soft Champagne and golden shades needed to subtly enhance Meghan’s eyes in an absolutely princess-like manner. I’d team this with a long-wearing black liner and a waterproof mascara.

As a final touch, I’d use a light wash of MAC Viva Glam V Lipstick to gently enhance her lip tone, as its golden fleck would be just enough to catch the light.

Brides should avoid major fake-tanning sessions if they want to look fresh and healthy. I’d also advise not being too heavy-handed with highlighters – your wedding day is not the time to bring out your inner Wizard Of Oz Tin Man!

All brides need long-wearing products and I would recommend an eye primer like MAC Prep + Prime 24 Hour Extend Eye Base which can drastically increase the length of wear of your eyeshadow. Ensuring skin looks amazing from morning to night means finding the right formula and shade to perfectly match your skin type and tone. We have 50+ shades of Studio Fix Foundation available, so finding your exact shade is super easy.

A good powder to set your make-up is also vital for summer weddings. Ideally it should be oil absorbing, with minimal coverage, and not contain talc, as this can cause it to change colour in oily areas. For this reason, MAC Blot Powder is an essential product for all my brides.

Jade Beer’s novel, The Almost Wife, now available for pre-order now.