niall is normal

I think he’s great, I think he’s really wonderful, he’s very organic and natural, but I am a little ticked with him, because today I - I texted him yesterday and he didn’t answer me yet. Normally he answers right away… but anyways, he’s a sweetheart, and we get along really well, and we need to write together, I mean that would be a really successful sit-down creative time.
—  Shania Twain, on Niall x

anonymous asked:

Ooh alright! How about 3 or 21? (prompts)

21. Hey, have you seen the…..oh

A/N: For my dear dear friend Christina who attacked me with this image while I was trying to do a five hour drive home in a rain storm.  @dibsonthat1d

The past two weeks had been out of control.  Ever since Niall had released “Slow Hands” your life had been turned upside down.  From the moment you first heard it you knew it would be a hit for him - a departure from “This Town”, but still distinctly “Niall”.  After the initial furor had died down Niall jumped immediately into promo.  Suitcases were packed.  Guitars were in their cases.  Itineraries were printed out.  You’d known this was going to happen, Niall’s team had his schedule planned months ago.  But knowing something is coming doesn’t necessarily take the sting out the actual event when it finally happens.

The day had finally arrived.  Niall had finished his California shows and was headed out for another round of radio shows across the country.  Even though the weeks would go by quickly, you’d gotten used to having him home.  Even if he was doing ten or twelve hour days in the studio he was still waking up next to you and that made all the difference. Instead of dwelling on the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach as the front door clicked behind him, you decided to treat yourself to a hot bath and maybe a mani-pedi.  Anything to take your mind off how quiet the huge house had suddenly become.

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anonymous asked:

Yeah the difference is so clear. Harry either doesn't get ask at all about Louis but is about the other boys, or when he is asked it's all jokey questions.... How can people not see the difference? Like Louis song is about to come out same day as Dunkirk. Why just not ask a simple "are you excited" or "have you heard it". No, it's always jokey questions. Meanwhile he's asked about Niall's and Liam's careers. And Niall and Liam are constantly asked about all of them, and it's all normal questions

It’s annoying. They have such easy normal material to work with and instead they ask the nonsense. Super frustrating but the interviewers all play along so what can you do? 🙄


Ah, Ah, you woke up with a sharp pain. “Hey baby Styles calm down,” you said to your protruding belly. You rubbed your belly for the next few minutes hoping to calm the baby down. Why is he so fussy tonight you wondered? You hadn’t been able to sleep more than thirty minutes at a time. Okay, you thought, maybe this will subside soon, if not you’d call someone.

About twenty-five minutes later you felt the pain again. Shit this really hurts you thought. Maybe getting up and walking around will help. As you started to get up you felt something slick in your underwear. You can’t be in labor could you? 

You weren’t due for another two weeks. And Harry wasn’t here to help you because he was finishing up their tour, thinking that if he was back next week it’d be fine. You made your way to the kitchen to get some water. You stood by the sink sipping the water hoping the pain was gone, unfortunately five minutes later you clutched your abdomen waiting for it to stop so you could move.

Okay you were definitely in labor. You grabbed your phone and called an Uber because you definitely weren’t in any condition drive. You tried calling Harry, but he wouldn’t answer. Are you fucking kidding me Harry? I know you’re probably busy, but dammit this is important! You called Niall next, knowing that he normally always picked up his phone. It’s 5 am here in L.A. which means that it’s 1 pm in London. Niall thankfully picked up on the third ring.

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anonymous asked:

you know what would definitely make everything so much better? ... another snippet from your angel/demon fic, please please please please <3

can do! 

Dinner is a chance for them to check in, a weekly once-over that ensures they’re as safe and as happy as immortals in a human world can be. Family isn’t a word they throw around lightly; they’re all here because they choose to be, but they’re also here because the general consensus is that each of them belongs. There are some that are closer than others — Amy and Eoghan are more Niall’s brood than part of the core family, and then there’s Louis’ (and Harry’s) additions, Lottie and Fizzy and Daisy and Phoebe — but no matter what, they take care of their own.

And so that’s why Louis is supremely unsurprised when Niall drops into a chair across from him and Zayn at the table, the plates and glasses around them empty, his brows furrowed.

“Harry told me you two had a weird summoning this week,” he says, apropos of nothing, and interrupting Zayn in the middle of his meandering thought about how Bob Marley was totally qualified for sainthood and how it’s a crime he wasn’t given it.

“Weird summoning?” Zayn asks, letting the Marley conversation go easier than Louis would’ve expected. Louis sighs.

“Yeah, it was weird. Nothing bad, just strange,” he shrugs. “Bunch of kids in a basement in Yorkshire, and somehow they were strong enough to summon both me and Harry in the same day.”

“Maybe they had help?” Niall asks.

“Nah, don’t think so. I read through their spellbook before I burned it, but the Latin in it wasn’t even translated properly, it didn’t really make sense. So I think they just managed to accidentally use a really good spell instead of a mediocre one.”

“You know, now that you mention that,” Zayn says, “My visions this week had a lot of you and Harry in them, and they’re usually a little hard to understand but this week was even weirder.”

Niall hums, looking unsettled. “Don’t like that much.”

“I don’t either,” Zayn says.

“It’s no big deal,” Louis says soothingly, or at least an approximate version of soothingly. They’re clucking at him like mother hens as though this is his first time all alone in the big bad world. If there had been danger in that bland little Cottingham basement, Louis would have known, or Harry would have seen; between the two of them, they’ve survived a lot worse things than spotty kids playing witch in a basement.

“Just let me get the cards and do a quick look, it’ll make me feel better,” Niall says, getting to his feet. Zayn clears a space on the table, scooting aside the potato dish and the chicken bones and the fourth empty bottle of wine to make room for Niall.

They aren’t tarot cards, because Niall’s not a Seer — Stan is, and he could do an in-depth reading if he were here, even though Louis would still say that’s completely unnecessary — but the one thing Niall has deep in his bones is a well of magic, real magic, and these cards help him channel what he sees in his head.

Louis’ power comes from grace, holy buckets of grace imbued in his very being; Harry’s comes from the opposite — unholiness, Louis supposes, but there’s probably a better word for it. Witches and magic users draw magic from the Earth, and they can harness it, but they don’t own it, and it’s not part of them.

For Niall, and for others like him, magic is what took his family and made them above other humans. Magic is the extra strand in his DNA, as it were, and while he can’t always control it, he does always have it. Ready to be drawn on, a reservoir of power. And so he made these cards by hand, ages back, to put that magic to immediate use when he needs it. One look at what his magic-imbued subconscious picked out for him and he can paint a picture of someone’s past, present, or future.

Unlike a tarot reading, he doesn’t lay out multiple cards to paint a picture; he just needs one. He shuffles the deck and swipes through, until his hand stills over the one calling to him:

He lays it out, turns it over — a water wheel.

Niall’s brow furrows again, and he puts the card back in the deck. Harry’s drifted over as well, probably seeing the confused frown on Louis’ face, and he watches quietly over Louis’ shoulder.

Niall draws again, pausing over the card that speaks to him, and flips it over: this one is a throne on fire.

“Um,” Niall says, flicking a glance up at Louis and Harry. “That’s… odd.”

“What’s odd?” Harry asks.

“Well,” Niall says, exhaling slowly. “Normally, when I pull a card for Louis, I get the same one for you, because your destinies have always been all tied up together. But this time, they were different.” He stares at the burning throne card for a moment, then puts it back in the deck and shuffles again. “Maybe I just- just did it wrong.”

He’s never done it wrong before. Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder, and when Louis looks up at him he’s biting his lip, watching Niall’s hands hover over the deck. His eyes are squeezed tight as his hand passes over the deck and he stills once again, choosing a card.

“So, for Louis,” he narrates, then flips the card — the water wheel.

He nods to himself, puts the card back in the deck, shuffles and chooses again.

“For Harry,” he says, and flips a card over — the burning throne.

“That’s…” he trails off, still staring at the card he drew.

“What does that mean?” Louis asks, peering more closely at the card, the painted flames licking at the crown lying abandoned in the seat of the throne.

“Erm, it’s not one set meaning, you know,” Niall explains, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He looks around, sees that everyone else besides the four of them are engrossed in a competitive game of Jenga in the living room, and then meets Harry’s eyes, looking worried. “But I keep getting one word, over and over.” He winces a little. “Betrayal.”

Zayn breathes in, a quick intake. “Oh,” he says, “that, well. That reminds me — my visions were all over the place this week, yeah? Most of them are quick flashes of what’s going to happen eventually, but some of these made no sense. But one of them,” he pauses, also looking apologetically at Harry. “Well, it can’t be true, maybe we shouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait,” Harry says, bottom lip jutting out, his eyes anxious. “I want to know, just in case.”

“Erm, okay, but remember that this doesn’t necessarily have to be literal,” Zayn cautions. He takes another breath. “I saw… well, I saw you, standing over Louis while he was lying on the ground.”

“That’s not so bad,” Louis says, hopeful. “That could mean lots of things.”  

“He had your sword,” Zayn continues, looking ruefully between them. “And he was about to use it. Against you.”

Harry’s hand clenches on Louis’ shoulder, and Louis can’t stand it.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, point-blank. “It’s ridiculous to even think so.”

“Totally,” Zayn adds in quickly. “I could’ve seen it wrong, that happens sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Niall says belatedly.

Harry stays quiet for the rest of the night.

hey guys!!

so i know i have been a bit inactive on here, i apologize, im still in a bit of a writing rut which im trying my best to get myself out of, but until then there will be no updates of AMR. i will let you all know as soon as i get back into the groove. i am so sorry and i feel awful for leaving you guys with no updates :( 

also i am on vacation this week, so im pretty sparingly on the tumblr until i return, but if any of you want to follow my niall blog @wheretogofrmhere :) i’m usually on there constantly and always have my queue going :) 


Harry Styles - Niall Horan - 2533 words (Requested, Niall smut)


Harry’s large hand cupped my thigh as he gave it a firm squeeze, a wink thrown my way with that dirty, dirty grin etched onto his lips. I grant him a smile in return, letting my hand fall over his, the other tugging on my short dress to lengthen it just the slightest bit. We are out having a drink in the hotel bar to celebrate closing off the last leg of tour just a bit earlier today. All the boys are here, including crew and whoever helped to make this tour the uttermost success, pleasing girls all over the world. I had joined Harry for the last two shows, fangirling to the side with one of their bodyguards who eventually near the end of the first show I had gone to, starting dancing around with me like a maniac.

I already feel the alcohol I had consumed in the last two hours course through me, making me blink my eyes in a slow, tentative manner as I let my gaze fall onto each and every one that was surrounding me at this moment. They were making lame sex jokes, I don’t even recall any of them as I bite my lip, staring at Niall who is animatedly laughing at something that Louis has said. Harry’s hand still feels like fire against my naked skin and I squeeze his hand before I feel his lips press against the shell of my ear.

“You look marvelous.” Harry breathes, sending a shiver down my spine and let the end of my lips curve up into a small smile, my eyes cast his way quickly as I squeeze both my eyes closed with that stupid grin on my face. “You always do.” I mutter in return and breathe out as the whole bunch starts hollering again, clearly Harry and I missing out on the point here.

“Which boy would you do if you could switch it up, Y/n?” My eyes widen as  I stare at Louis who is simply smirking in my direction and I have absolute no idea what he is talking about. “I- uh- What?”
“We asked Liam who he’d do and he answered Alexandra,” Louis points towards one of the crew’s members who are sitting on the other side of the table, winking at someone before turning back to me, “And now I ask you, who would you do?”

I stare at Harry and he motions my head to answer and I let my eyes wander over all the men present, eyes landing on Liam. “I guess you.” I shrug my shoulders, a stupid, awkward grin on my lips as the boys holler again. “Niall?” Liam claps his hands and I see the color draining from Niall before it is replaced with the crimson red color known as embarrassment as his gazes catches mine before he quickly looks away and mumbles, “Y/n.”

The boys holler again, they seem to do that with every name that falls but I pat his hand and mouth what a good choice he made. This continues for every one of the members at the table before we decide to call it a night. My hands grasp Harry’s biceps as I soak in some of his warmth. I am not drunk or anything, but the night and the dancing a few hours earlier have seem to catch up on me.

“Niall, wait up.” Harry yells down the hall, freezing Niall in the middle of opening his door as he turns towards us. “Are you interested in?” I don’t see what Harry does next but I see Niall’s reaction and my mind seems to connect the dots rather slowly as I slap Harry’s hand with a grin on my lips. “Harry, you don’t go off offering your lady to other men.” I chuckle dryly as I see Niall approach us, awkwardly scratching his neck as he stops a few meters away from us.

“You said you thought he was cute, don’t you want to?” Harry turns back towards me, waiting for me to answer as I stare at Harry in disbelief.
“I - well – I – damn what a question to ask Harry.” Harry motions his head for Niall to follow us and I can already feel my heart palpitating as Harry grasps my hand in his and pulls me along, leaving Niall to follow.

“Have a go if you want to.” Harry smirks as he lets his bum fall down onto the love seat in the corner of the hotel room, his fingers working on his button up to unbutton a few and leave his chest exposed as he would normally wear, his legs opened and loosely dangling in front of him. His left arm is hanging loosely over the arm rest, the pointer finger of his right hand pressed against his lips as he watched both Niall as I with hooded eyes.

Niall seems frozen, petrified as he keeps his distance from me, hands fiddling with one another as he keeps his gaze both off of Harry as off of me. “H babe..” I start but he shakes his head and I immediately shut up. Harry always had this aura of authority around him and I knew and loved that about him, but never had he used that same look on me. It thrilled me beyond belief.

“I know you think about her a lot, I would too if she wasn’t mine.” Harry states simply, his face lightly illuminated by the small desk lamp he had switched on when he entered in front of Niall and I. My heart is hammering in my chest, my eyes flicking back between Niall and Harry. As we catch gazes, his dimples come to show and he nods his head, encouraging me to take the first step. I take a deep breath and walk over to the still fiddling Niall, my outstretched hands rubbing over his clothed chest as I try to get him to relax just the tiniest bit.

Niall’s eyes glance up, his lip sucked between his teeth as I see his glance dip into the cleavage of my dress, a small smirk covering my lips when he scrapes his throat and turns to Harry.
“No go’s?” His voice is hoarse, the playfulness seems to have left him as nervousness took over but I find that cute in Niall. I’ve always dreamed of my own personal bad boy, and then I found Harry. But the little princess in me will always crave for someone as sweet as Niall.

“No kissing.” Harry grunts, folding his hands together as his eyes bore into the two of us. Niall opens his mouth to say or ask something else but Harry beats him to it. “And listen to her body, she shows what she likes.” A grin is plastered onto his face and Niall turns back towards me to see my cheeks a flaming red color, a small, playful smile back on his lips as his fingers tickle over the curves of my hips, taking tentative steps closer. I am tired of waiting for something to happen, seeing Harry sitting like that, acting like that and Niall being his awkward self is sending my body into a frenzy.

I pull Niall closer by the neck and attach my lips to his neck, Niall letting out a low growl which emanates a hearty laugh from Harry’s lips who is still in his spot in the corner but I try to focus on unbuttoning Niall’s shirt with cats on them, pushing it off of his shoulders, unlocking my lips from his neck as I grant him with a wink and sink down to my knees in the most seductive way I can muster, nails lightly scratching over his torso in my way down.

Soon Niall is completely bare in front of me, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, wetting them as my manicured fingers curl around his shaft, giving it a few, slow pumps. My eyes dart over to Harry, looking for reassurance and I wink at him as he nods his head at me, his eyes fixated on me going to pleasure his friend. I must say, it felt weird, not having Harry in front of me, and him on the other side of the room watching us, me, about to suck one of his best mates off. But the thrill that overpowered me made me push the tip past my lips, my eyes closing as I hear Niall hiss out in pleasure.

I only tease him, raising back to my feet as I slowly unwrap the dress I was wearing after I pushed Niall down onto the bed. I hear Harry breathing harshly but steadily behind me, Niall’s breathing erratically, small puffs filling the silent air as I stare down at him. I discard my dress onto the floor, my hands grasping behind me to rid myself off of the black lace bra I wore especially for Harry tonight. Apparently it would be an extra special night.

Niall is simply staring at me, watching my breasts bounce as I push my knickers down to my ankles. I crawl on top of him, my tongue slowly dragging a stripe up on his torso before I let my lips rest against his jaw again, dropping my body onto his and I feel his cock strain against my pelvis, sending the tingles towards my core as I feel Niall’s hands roam over my back, towards my bum which he gives a firm squeeze, a low moan leaving my lips before I’m flicked onto my back, Niall hovering above me.

I flinch when I feel a condom packet hit my arm and I glare at a silently laughing Harry, his head motioning for me to get on with it. I rip the packet with my teeth, taking the condom and slowly rolling it over Niall’s shaft while I let my lips and teeth graze over the pale skin of his shoulder. Niall doesn’t waste any time and he positions himself and slowly pushes in, a sigh leaving my lips at the intrusion. He slowly starts rocking his hips, his head disappearing in the crook of my neck so he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss me.

I breathe against Niall’s blonde hair, my fingers digging into the short strands as I let my nails rake through them, lightly scratching his scalp as I moan into thin air, opening my legs further so Niall would have more access. Normally with Harry it would be rough and passionate, and this is way different than what I’m used to. Of course Harry and I made love every once in a while, but that would include a lot of kissing and touching and it’s just different with another male above me, although he is very good at what he’s doing.

“Hmm.” I sigh, arching my back a bit as Niall hits one of the right spots, encouraging him to pick up his pace, low grunts and puffs of air blown against my neck, heating up the skin as I close my eyes and enjoy the slow rocking of his hips. I feel him stutter, indicating that he’s coming near his end and I let out a particular harsh moan, nails digging into the skin where I had them resting the same moment.

“Oh Niall –“ I breathe, a short, high pitched moan leaving my lips as I squeeze my eyes closed, short puffs of air leaving my lips as Niall reaches his high, stilling inside me as he groans against my warm skin.

It takes Niall a few minutes to regain his breath, both our harsh breathing filling the air as Harry is still staring at us, but staying as quiet as ever. He observes as Niall climbs off of me, taking my hand and giving it a small kiss and a wink before he pulls his boxers back over his bum.

“I – uhm –“ Niall starts stuttering when he is full dressed again while I pull my black knickers back over my own bum. I smile as I cross my arms over my chest, still a bit aware that I am half naked and two males are keeping their gazes on me, covering my breasts from their view.
“We’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast Niall. I had fun, thank you.” I smile sweetly again and wave as the blush covers his cheeks and neck and he nods towards Harry before quickly making his way out of Harry and I’s hotel room.

It is silent for a good full minute, my hands slowly rubbing over my exposed arms before Harry scrapes his throat and gathers my attention towards him.

“You faked, didn’t you?” Harry growls from his seat on the love seat, leaning on his knees with his elbows, hands still folded, dangling in the air. I roll my eyes, of course he knows it. We’ve been together for quite a while and I believe he knows my body better than I’ll ever know it. “Hmm.”
“Did you enjoy?” Harry questions again, licking his lips again as I walk towards the bathroom to grab one of the complementary bath robes, the soft silky white feeling like bliss against my hands.

“I did. He isn’t you though.” I shrug my shoulders, standing near the doorway towards the bedroom as I swing the robe around me, letting it hang open as I watch Harry push himself onto his feet.
I decide to test the waters even more, swallowing harshly before letting my bare feet take me towards the bed. “I like it rough, and I’d rather have your cock to bounce on.” I nonchalantly shrug, tying my hair up in a high pony tail, a chill running over my spine when I feel his presence behind me. I turn around slowly, seeing Harry a few meters away from me, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk etched onto his lips. “Of course you do.” I giggle, shrugging my shoulders again as I motion with my hands as if what to do about it. I let my teeth sink into my tongue briefly as I turn towards Harry, watching him stare me down.

“I didn’t think you’d be into voyeurism.” I chuckle as I pull the bath robe closed, covering my breasts from view as I watch Harry approach me with a tentative, but confident steps. His dominance – for a lack of a better word – was emanating from him as he stops so he’s just within arm reach, a wicked grin plastered on lips which he licks before sinking his pearly white teeth in his bottom lip.
“I always like watching you.” He states as he pushes the robe open again, a blush covering my cheeks as I watch his hands cup my breasts, his feet taking him a step closer towards me.

“But right now, all I want is to make you scream so Niall will know you’re mine.” Harry growls before he pushes me onto the bed, a moan already leaving my lips as I see him sink towards the floor onto his knees, the wicked grin not once leaving his lips.

Lots of love,
L. xox

#69 Another boy tweets a picture of you two asleep (Visual)

Louis: @zaynmalik: These idiots invited me over for pizza and video games but when I get here, I find this… How can they even sleep like this!?

Liam: @Louis_Tomlinson: Liam and Y/n always call me lazy but it’s almost 2 in the afternoon and here they are. I think we all know who the real lazy ones are. #thetruthcomesout

Niall: @Harry_Styles: Normal people would sleep in the bunks on the tour bus where it’s warm. Instead, They choose to sleep on the couch in the back of the bus. Weirdos.

Zayn: @NiallOfficial: I swear, everytime I see them, they’re asleep… I mean it can’t be normal how much these to sleep!

Harry: @Real_Liam_Payne: Almost every movie night that the lads and I have seems to end up with Harry and Y/n passed out but that also means that they wake up with drawings on their faces because of Louis. Enough said.

One Directions reaction to Miley Cyrus VMAs= Priceless

Liam- “Wow.”

Zayn- “This is some good music”

Louis- “Just act normal”

Niall- “What the hell is she doing??!!!”

Harry- “She could`ve done better”

Paul- “ That is such an interesting ceiling”

So I got my copy of Niall’s tmrw magazine today. Normally my mail fits in my mailbox. 

The magazines are in the bottom part of the bag. Why is the bag so big?

The magazines vs the bag.

How big is this bag? It’s so big it covers from my husband from his neck down to past his knee. 

But since I’m not posting a picture of my husband on this hellsite, here’s a picture of the bag with a pineapple for scale. The end.

Count On Me-- Harry Styles

“You can count on me like 1, 2, 3

I’ll be there,

And I know when I need it

I can count on you like 4, 3, 2

And you’ll be there,

‘Cause that’s what friends are supposed to do.”

My eyes snap open at a sharp, annoying sound coming from my left, the sound piercing through the air and sending small pulses of pain shooting through my head. I slowly pull my hand out from under my pillow, reaching towards the nightstand blindly, rummaging to find the sleek, black mobile device.

My fingers finally wrap around it and I bring it to my face, trying to make out the name on the screen at 3:15 in the morning. I blink some of the sleep from my eyes, squint, and finally see the name glowing on the screen with a picture of a familiar girl with a wide smile across her face: Gemma.

I slide my finger across the screen and bring the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” I croak, my voice not used to being used at such an early hour.

“Y/N? It’s Gemma.” My best friend’s sisters answers on the other line.

“Hey, Gem. What’s up?” I say, rubbing my eyes to keep myself from falling asleep again as I wonder why she’s calling me at such a God- forsaken hour.

“Have you by any chance talked to Harry today?” She asks, and I catch an edge of nervousness and tension in her usually worry-free voice.

“Um, yeah. Why?” I ask, starting to worry slightly about her mood.

“When? And what did he say?”

“It was–uh…” I close my eyes and press my palm against them, forcing the sleep farther back into my mind and trying to bring out the memories of earlier today–at decent hours–into my field of thought.

“It was around eleven p.m. He said he was going to go out for some drinks with the guys.” I reply, shrugging lightly. “Why?”

“That’s exactly what he told me. I told him that okay, to be careful to not drink too much and to get home safely. I decided to call him around one, but he didn’t answer, so I called all of the boys and they said that they looked around for him but he wasn’t at the club anymore. I’ve called him ten more times since then and he still hasn’t answered and I’m worried ill.” She confesses, the nervous edge she had before taking over completely.

“What if something happened?” Her voice cracks, just at the border of panic.

“Gemma, it’s okay. Listen, I’ll call him, okay? I’ll call him, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go over to his flat to see what’s up, yeah? Don’t worry.” I sooth, now fully awake and kicking off my covers.

I hear her sigh on the other end.

“Okay,” she breathes, calming herself. “Okay, thank you so much, Y/N. If anything happens, call me, text me, anything. Please?”

“Of course. Don’t worry.” I repeat.

“Okay. Bye.”


I hang up, thinking about what Gemma said.

What if something happened to Harry? What if he got so drunk that he just started wandering the streets and got into an accident?

I take a deep breathe, refusing to go into chaos.

I find Harry on my favorites and tap on his name, bringing the phone back up to my ear. It rings three times, then goes to voice mail.

“Heyyyyyy, it’s Harry! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, I’m probably busy or I don’t like or know you, but I’ll try to call you back! Later!” His voice laughs through the speaker.

I growl in desperation and hang up.
I try again, and again, and again. No answer.

I set the phone down onto my bed and get up, stretching as I quickly walk into my closet, changing into a pair of jeans, a random Coldplay t-shirt, and throwing on a sip-up windbreaker. I slip into my beat-up sneakers and run out of the room, grabbing my phone and keys as I leave. How my legs could function at this unthinkable hour is beyond me, but I’m thankful they do. I slide into the front seat of my car, turning on the ignition and buckling my seat belt.

“You’re lucky I love you, Styles.” I mumble to myself as I pull out of the parking lot of my apartment complex and head straight for Harry’s, praying that he had enough sense to at least
return to his flat.


I jog up the stairs to his apartment number, the elevator being to slow for my taste. I find myself right infront of his door and I give it a few knocks. Nothing.

I pull out the spare key he gave me sometime ago and open the door, walking in and shutting it behind me. The lights are all off and there’s no sign that anyone’s here.

“Harry?” I call out, flipping on lights as I go, hoping that he’d come out of the bathroom or the kitchen or somewhere, but no one answers.

After a brief search that ends in failure, I drop down on the couch in the living room, thinking of what to do next. I get out my phone and dial one of the other people who might know what the bloody hell happened and where the bloody hell he is.

“'Ello?” Answers the voice.

He doesn’t seem too drunk, to my surprise. Niall normally goes all out when he gets his hands on a pint or two, or five.

“Niall? It’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Y/N! What’s up, love?” He says, but I can hear that he too has some anxiousness in his tone.

“Gems called me about Harry and told me that she called you guys, too. Has he, by any chance, sent you any messages yet?”

“He hasn’t, but I’ve been calling him and sending him messages like crazy.” Niall sighs.

I press my palm to my forehead, taking a deep breathe to calm my nerves.

“She called me nearly having a heart attack about him and I came down to his to see if he was here at his apartment, but he’s not.”

“Do you want me to come over and we can go out and look for him?” He offers, but I decide to let him be.

“It’s okay. You’ve been drinking, too. Probably not a good idea to take you out right now and expose you to all the tabloids.” I laugh lightly. “I’ve got it. Thanks, Niall.”

“No problem. Call me if you change your mind?”

“Will do.” I agree, hanging up.

I put my face in my hands, worried about where Harry could possibly be. I’ve told him to be careful when he drinks; to call me if he needed help getting home.
And he usually does, but he must be so drunk that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

I glance at the time. 3:54 A.M.

I have decided to go over to Gemma’s to discuss with her what to do and just I start to get up, I stop dead when I hear heavy footsteps outside in the corridor. They get closer and then stop right outside the door.

I hear something crash onto the ground and I’m guessing it’s the flower pot Harry has out side next to his door.

“Fuck.” I hear, and then I there’s keys jingling and a few other choice words from the person trying to unlock the door.

The knob finally turns and in comes Harry, dressed in black ripped skinny jeans, his brown boots and a black button up shirt. His hair is up in a messy quiff, cross chain necklace hanging loosely around his neck. He turns, closing the door as quietly as he can, putting a finger over his lips and shushing it as the lock clicks into place as if the door was a living thing.

“Harry!” I flush in relief. I run up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me and gripping the back of his neck as if he might disappear. He stinks heavily of alcohol and I do everything in my power not to gag.

“You’re…wet?” I state, finally pulling back from the hug, my hands running over his shirt.

I look up at his eyes, and they look clouded and sedated. Definitely from the drinking. He gives me a lazy, drunken smile.

“Heyyyyyyy, Y/N. It’s just Vodka.
I accidentally spilled some all over me.” Harry chuckles.

He turns slightly as if to head to the couch and immediately stumbles. I catch his arm, saving him from a face-planting.

“Just Vodka?” I ask, unsure of his consumptions by how wasted he seems to be.

“Ummmm…No! Wait! It was mixed with something else, too…” He says, leaning against the back of the couch and closing his eyes in thought. “What’s it called?Absentine…Abstethe…?”

“Absinthe?” I say slowly, praying that I’m wrong.

“Yep! That’s the one!” He hiccups, snapping his fingers and pointing at me.

“How much did you have?” I question, grimacing at his irresponsibility as I cross my arms over my chest.

I hated having to be the parent in our friendship, but I know what I’d been getting myself into when I became his best friend. Harry could be very reckless when he was younger and that behavior reflected often now since he could legally drink. I continue to stare at him as he blinks a couple of times, rubbing his eyes and focusing back on me.

“Uhm, I don’t know…Maybe, like, seven or eight shots?” He answers wistfully, seeming to be without a care in the world.

“And you drove here on ‘seven or eight’ shots?!” I burst, incredulous.

He just nods, shrugging.

“Harry, Gemma and I were worried sick about where you were and what could have happened!” I exclaim, shoving him slightly to get him to pay attention to how serious I am rather than let him continue messing around with his cross necklace, which I have learned is a way of distraction for him to avoid the person who is scolding him.

Harry fumbles for words, tugging at the chain and not making any eye contact.

“What?” I snap, becoming exasperated with him.

This type of behavior was off limits to him, especially when he knows he has the entire world breathing down his neck, waiting for him to make one wrong move.

“I told you! I was just getting a drink with the boys; trying to get my mind off of some shit…” He murmurs, his words slurred.

Then something happens that I’d never thought would happen while Harry was drunk: He begins to cry.

Silent tears stream down his face, neck and soak into his shirt. He closes his eyes, a small sob leaving his lips.

“H-Harry?” I ask quietly, my anger instantly melting off; my eyebrows furrowing together as my concern for my best friend takes the place of my irritation.

“I–” he starts, but another sob escapes his lips, getting in the way of his explanation. He takes some deep breathes, running his hand through his hair like he does when he’s upset or nervous, refusing to meet my caring stare.

His eyes look broken, like something has smashed into his soul. His green emeralds that usually shine with humor and happiness are dull and infused with grief. The last time I’d seen him like that–so heart-broken and crying– was when he and the boys had lost the X-Factor. This must be pretty serious.

“I–I found out that Kendall’s been cheating on me, but the media says it’s my fault and that I’m the one who probably started it. They’re calling me a manwhore, saying that I slept around with girls and that Kendall just got tired and ‘decided to give me some of my own medicine.’” Harry murmurs, chuckling humorlessly.

“They have this picture of me…and I’m wearing this collared shirt that Liam gave me on my birthday. You know, the one with the light-blue stripes. I got a red stain on the collar and they’re saying that it’s lipstick. I wore that shirt to this charity event that we had a few days ago. We were coloring with kids and I got some marker on the collar, but they said that I was probably making out with some random girl and didn’t pay attention…” His voice cracks with emotion. Another sob, louder and even more heart-wrenching, escapes him.

“Harry.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief at what the media’s saying about him.

In all honesty, Harry had told me that he didn’t even like Kendall enough to date her– they had just been friends from the start. Management had forced him into dating her, claiming it was a great publicity move.

“Did you care about her a lot?”
I ask anyways, watching as he continues to rubs his eyes.

“Not really. It’s mostly just what the media is saying about me that hurts.” He whispers. “I don’t even blame Kendall for finding someone else. Neither of us were into the relationship.”

I reach over and pull his hand away from his face, telling him that he’s just going to irritate his eyes if he keeps rubbing. As I watch my strong, care-free friend begin to break down infront of me, it hits me for the first time just how hard the fame has impacted him and his life. It had never occurred to me how much all of the made-up rumors must chip away at him. Harry has always been fun and passive, never showing any sign of pain to what is being said about him, but now I can see that it’s not that it doesn’t hurt him, but rather just how good he is at covering it up.

With all of his weighing on my mind I go to pull Harry in for a hug, but he suddenly pushes me away. I don’t even have time to think why before he’s stumbling towards the bathroom. Knocking the door open, he scrambles to the bath tub just as he begins to vomit.

I walk over, pushing the door open quietly to see my best friend hugging the tub, his body trembling, his face drenched in sweat and tears, his body doing everything possible to purge itself from the intoxicating mixtures that he’d taken. I drift closer as he continues retching, his body contracting as he does. I slide my hand onto his back and rub circles against his tight muscles, comforting him.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I whisper soothingly, running my hand softly though his hair and back down to his back as he sputters everything out.

After a few minutes, once he seems to be done, he slumps back onto the wall next to the toilet, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I feel like shit.” He growls, slamming his head into the wall with fury. “Scratch that, I am shit.”

“Harry.” I sigh, bending down next to him and running my hand through his hair again. “You know that’s not true.
It’s not your fault.”

I let myself sink down next to him, my back also against the wall. He slowly opens his eyes, looking over at me.

“If it’s not, then why is that what everyone believes?” He hisses.

I wrap my arms around him, bringing him closer towards me. He willingly lays his head down on my shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“Harry, you of all people know how the media takes stories and twists them into what they think will sell. That’s exactly what they’re doing right now with this. You can’t let them win, Styles. You might not be able to fight them, but you can fight the rumors. And you don’t need to drown yourself in alcohol, thinking it’ll make it all go away, because it won’t. You won’t be able to avoid this forever. You know you did nothing wrong. I know, Gemma knows, your family knows, the boys know. All of us who truly care about you know that it’s all fake bullshit and that’s what truly matters. We’re here to protect you and show the world that you are not what the media portrays of you. You aren’t Harry Styles, the sex-symbol womanizer that goes around using girls. No, you’re Harry Styles, the playful, cute, funny and talented singer from Cheshire who was discovered and given an unimaginable chance at life. We’ll get over this Harry, don’t worry.” I assure him, wrapping my arms around him tighter and kissing the top of his head. “We’ll get over it, together. You can count on me.”

Harry opens his eyes and glances up at me, showing a glimpse of hope and gratefulness.

“Thanks.” He smiles, his dimples popping in perfectly, his face lighting up faintly. He slides his hand down his leg and onto mine, finding my hand and sliding his fingers inbetween my own. “Thank you for being here for me through all of this.”

I look up at his eyes, which seem to be gradually mending, the tinges of himself flowing back into them.

“What else are best friends for?” I reason, sending him my own smile and kissing his cheek reassuringly.

His smiles widens, and he looks down momentarily, then back up, his eyes glowing with cheekiness.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you think that I’m cute?” He jokes, his old smirk returning.

I laugh, shoving him over. “Shut up.”

He shoves me back, laughing as well.

“Alright,” I sigh, “we should get you cleaned up and into bed, okay? You reek.” I scrunch my nose, breathing out at the pungent smell. He laughs as I get up and pull him up with me.

“Let’s start by getting these clothes off and you can go and take a shower because I’m not hugging you anymore until you do.” I remark, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Yes, ma'am.” Harry chuckles, starting to kick his boots off.

“I’m going to make you some tea. It’ll help with the immense hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.” I state and here him groan as I turn, making a small smile spread across my lips as I shake my head at his pure childishness.

In the kitchen, I open the cabinet door with all of the mugs, pulling one out and opening the tap to the water purifier. I rummage through another cabinet, pulling out a tea bag. When I turn, Harry is just finishing unbuttoning his shirt. He slips his sleeves off, looking up at me with an ignorant grin.

“I know you like what you see,” He winks, balling up his shirt and tossing it into his dirty clothes hamper. My eyes drift down his tattooed body and I feel my face flush as I look away. I walk over to the microwave, setting the mug inside and clicking the button for two minutes.

When I look up, Harry had slipped off his pants and is also throwing them into the hamper, leaving him in his navy blue Calvin Kliens. He turns, coming closer to me and smirking.
He stops a few inches away from my face, but close enough that his breathe still washes over my lips, still smelling of alcohol.

“Care to join?” He asks, running his hand up and down my arm lightly, his cold skin leaving goosebumps as it passes along my warm one.

“No, thanks.” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

Harry and I are just friends, but he’s purposely being over-friendly right now to mess with me.

“Hmmm…Are you sure?” He says, tugging me closer and resting my hands onto his shoulders, raising an eyebrow cockily.

He runs his lips up my jaw and right next to my ear, saying his words lazy and in a low tone.

“I could use the help and you do want to help me feel better, right?”

I push him away softly, feeling a blush creeping up my neck. “You’re drunk, Harry. Go take a shower.”

Harry sighs, seeming too tired to keep trying, which I am thankful for. He turns his back to me, making his way slowly over to the bathroom, stumbling every few steps, but managing to make it safely to the bathroom door, leaning heavily on the door frame for support.

“If you need any help, just call.” I say, and he mumbles a soft “okay.”

I turn back to the kitchen, finishing up making his tea.

My skin is hot from his touch, my heart pounding against my rib cage. He’d gotten so close to kissing me that I can feel the ghost of his lips left behind to haunt me. I hear the shower starting up and steam starts to come out of the bathroom. Quiet, indistinct humming resonates off of the tile walls.

I set Harry’s Chamomile on his dining table, taking a seat next to it, facing away from the bathroom. My fingers absently-mindedly come up and brush my lips. I’d wanted him to kiss me– I’d wanted it so bad. I’d craved it, yet I’d refused.

He’s drunk– intoxicated. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he most definitely won’t remember if he did do anything.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Harry– a small crush that had blossomed into something greater. However, when he’d announced he was dating Kendall, I’d pushed the feelings down and done my best to lock them up. It hadn’t worked very well.

Everytime I saw him, my heart would ache to be the one he had his arm around, the one to receive the kisses he’d plant ontop of her head, but it hadn’t been that way, and maybe for good reason. That was the excuse I’d used to help me feel better. But now, they were done. And just now, he’d tried to make a move.

‘He’s drunk.’ My mind reminded me yet again. ‘Those aren’t his real feelings.’

I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a distinct grunt and then a loud thud coming from the bathroom.

“Bloody shit. Y/N?!” Harry’s voice rips through the sound of the padding water.

I quickly get up and rush into the bathroom, and I see Harry’s hand poking out from behind the shower curtain, gripping the side of the tub. “Harry?”

“I–uh– I slipped.” He explains, his tone sheepish. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. It’s just…” I assess our situation. He’s naked and he can’t get up by himself, meaning I will have to help him up. I feel my cheeks begin to sting again. I hear him struggling to get himself up, clearly aware of what I’d have to do, but I hear him sigh, defeated.

“I can’t get up.” Harry confirms.

“Okay. Do you want me to just…?”

“If you would so kindly, please.” I can hear the sarcastic smirk in his voice without even looking.

Grabbing a towel, I walk over to the shower, poking my head through and peeking in. He’s splayed across the floor of the tub, the water pouring down on his head and down his shoulders. If it wasn’t such an awkward situation, I’d laugh. I avoid looking too much and immediately shut off the water.

He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face and giving me a cheeky grin. “Oops?”

I roll my eyes, reaching forward and grasping his large hand, pulling back to bring him forward. He stands up with a groan, stretching out his back once he’s up. I stare at his face, not letting my eyes wander as I hand him the towel and he wraps it around his waist.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, his lips tugging up into a seductive grin.

“No problem.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t look. If it had been vis versa, I’d would’ve taken a picture.” He quips, stepping out of the shower and quirking an eyebrow.

“Shut up, you twat.” I growl, but I can’t help myself. My eyes flash to the towel as it hangs dangerously low on his hips.

Harry reaches over me, tugging another towel off out of the closet and drying his body, then shaking out his hair. “You can watch me. If you’re still curious, all you have to do is ask. I don’t mind.”

I turn, exiting the bathroom with his laughter chasing me, my cheeks tinted an extreme shade of pink. I sit on the couch, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

All I see is his chiseled features with water dripping off his sharp jaw, down onto his golden, toned chest and his smirk, revealing one shy dimple. A few minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom.

“All done.” He comments.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pass out.” I half-joke, biting my cheek as I look at his dry, still-exposed body, the towel still hanging off his waist. “Why didn’t you get dressed?”

“My clothes are in the closet right there.” He points to the closet to my left.


“Yep.” He quips, walking over to the closet and pulling out a pair of boxers and some flannel pajama pants.

I turn away for him to get dressed, getting up and walking over to the kitchen and searching in the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. I head for the dining table to grab his tea and catch a glimpse of him slipping on his pajama pants, then shaking his hair out in the towel one more time.
I’m fascinated how he makes something so simple so hot.

I shake my head, concentrating on the simple task at hand. I know that he’s gonna have a splitting head ache tomorrow, so might as well help him out a little now. I head into his room where he’s lying on the bed, waiting to see what I’d been searching for.

“Here.” I say, offering him the two baby blue pills and the mug. Harry takes the pills and sets the empty cup on the nightstand next to him. He snuggles down into his bed, putting his arm behind his head and grinning up at me.

“Well?” He suggests.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going.” I say, turning to leave because leaving him to relax and sleep is probably the best thing for him to do right now.

“No! Stay! Please?” He says, grabbing my hand, his eyes pleading.

“But I–” I start, but when I look down at his eyes, he juts out his lower lip, blinking up at me.

“Fine.” I sigh.

“Yay!” He says like an excited five-year-old who had just received a new toy. I honestly have trouble believing he’s nineteen sometimes.

Harry pulls me into his bed with him, wrapping the comforter over us and drawing me close to him, snuggling my head into his bare chest, snaking his arms around me.

I’m kind of reluctant at first, but then I give in to him, the warmness of his body and the soft mattress becoming the perfect mixture to a deep, peaceful sleep. My hands are pressed lightly against his chest, and I smile up at him

“You know,” he mumbles quietly. “I’ve always wondered what this feels like.”

“What what feels like?” I question, my fingers tracing the butterfly tattoo that he’d gotten only a few weeks ago.

“What it feels like to be with the person you truly love.” He answers.

I look up at him, processing what he’s saying, but as soon as my eyes meet his, he leans down and connects our lips. He sighs into the kiss, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. When he gently draws back, the corner of his lips tilt upward into a half-smile. My heart soars, my mind buzzing with his words and the feeling of his lips brushing against mine.

“You’re drunk. You don’t really mean that.” I blurt out stupidly, still not believing his words.

“You know what they say: People are the most honest when they’re drunk.”

I blink at him, then wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my lips back to his and pressing them together, trying to settle the sting of need in the pit of my stomach.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted those words to come out of your mouth.” I mumble into the kiss.

Harry snakes his arms around my waist, tangling his legs with mine.

“Night.” He yawns, cuddling himself closer to me, the alcohol smell replaced by the minty scent of his toothpaste. He pulls me up farther, snuggling his head into the crook of my neck, pressing his lips against my pulse and kissing it gently.

“Goodnight.” I murmur, in a trance from the simple yet deep show of affection. He smiles sleepily, his eyes drooping closed.

My own eyes start to feel heavy and I find myself noticing how tired I really actually am. I let tiredness take it’s toll and begin to give into drowsiness, but then out of no where, I remember that I never told Gemma that Harry had gotten home safely.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, I pull out my phone and type in a text before I give into sleep:

To: Gemma
He’s home.

From: Gemma
Thank God! Is everything okay?

I glance up at Harry, my heart fluttering in my chest. I reach down, pressing a lingering kiss on his forehead.

To: Gemma
Everything’s great. :)


hey guys! This is an imagine I’ve had for quite some time and I finally decided to edit it and post it! I hope you like it. :) All the loveee xxx

- Andrea