look i don’t love harry styles because of incredible body or flawless face or chiseled jawline i love harry styles because he is an absolute gentleman and is compassionate and caring to everyone he meets and loves unapologetically and can laugh at himself and likes to make others laugh too and has such a passion for life it makes my heart hurt and also i love him because of his incredible body and flawless face and chiseled jawline too he’s just the whole package really and it’s not fair tbh


The girl’s broken face was etched into the boy’s mind, torturing him every second of everyday. When her call pulled out of his drive that dreary day, a part of the boy went with it. The part that loved. The part that lived. The part that was her. He wanted to run. Run for her. Run after the vehicle that was so cruelly leaving him standing alone. But his feet were frozen to the ground. This was what she wanted. Or what she thought she wanted. She was so confused as she drove. She couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling, as if her emotions were in a different language. The only thing she was sure of was that she loved him and that he loved her. They weren’t over, she promised, she only needed a break.

Her eyes were torn between the two objects lying on the table. Her silent phone was taunting her, begging to be picked up so she could call the voice she hadn’t heard in ten months. The wedding invitation was thick and beautiful and as she read the details once last time, she couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting in her chest.

She picked up the phone, then hesitated. Why was she doing this to herself? Weren’t there any games she’d rather play? Ones that didn’t involve her heart being the pawn? It’s nothing, she told herself. I’ll be calling him as a friend, she lied. She wasn’t convincing, not even to her own self. Her eyes screwed shut and she bit her lip. Screw it, she was going to call. Maybe she just didn’t want to go alone. But maybe, just maybe, she missed him like hell.

The phone rang twice, three times. She was about to hang up when she heard his voice. The voice that rendered her speechless.

“Y/N?” Harry asked hesitantly. He had nearly dropped his phone when he saw her name on the small screen. It had been so long, too long, since she called him.

Y/N leaned against the counter for support and brought one hand to her forehead. “It’s me,” she breathed. “Hi Harry.”

Silence. She heard him lightly cluck his tongue. She could just picture him running his hands through his hair. Oh how she missed him. Her heart sank with each passing second.

“Harry, are you there?”

“Yeah, I am. It’s just been a while since I’ve heard from you,” he said coolly.

Her face was hot. He was right. What the hell was she doing calling him out of the blue?

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you,” she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes. She heard a distinctly female voice call for Harry in the background. It felt like the ground had been swept from underneath her feet. “You’re busy, I’m sorry…”

“No,” Harry sharply interrupted. His heavy footsteps carried him out of the room. “I know what you’re thinking. She’s not with me.”

“Harry, you don’t have to explain-“

“I do. I’d never let you think I was with another girl when I’m not. She’s a friend of my sister’s.”

Y/N swallowed. “It’s okay, Harry. I just—I just shouldn’t have called you.” It hurt too much to hear his voice and not be his.

Harry’s head shook in fear. He wanted, no needed, to know why she called. Or why it took her ten months to.

“Please. Tell me. Tell me why you called.” His voice was so full of conviction she had no choice but to obey.

“My boss, she’s getting married in L.A. next weekend and I didn’t want to go alone. I mean, some coworkers are going but I see too much of them as it is. And I know it’s short notice but—“

“I’ll be there,” Harry said simply. With each word she spoke, Harry’s heart grew in size. She wanted him with her. The details didn’t matter. The fact that it was for only one night and for some stranger’s wedding didn’t mean a thing. If he got to see her again, he was in.

“Really?” Her voice was more surprised than Harry liked.

“’Course. You know I’d do anything for you,” Harry said in a voice that sounded like melted chocolate. She bet that was what his lips tasted like too. She shuddered at the thought.

“I’ll uh…I’ll send you the details,” she told him.

“See you soon, then,” Harry said calmly.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Her eyes pinched shut at the thought. Seeing Harry soon. After a ten month drought, the idea sounded as invigorating as a year’s worth of rain.

She knew she was well on her way to becoming clean when his face became fuzzy in her memory. When the features of his face couldn’t be made out as easily in her mind. Because if she couldn’t picture him, maybe she could convince herself that he wasn’t real. Maybe that would make it easier to get over him.

But all it did was make the blow that much more devastating when she did see him.

She had been standing at the fountain they had decided to meet at for ten minutes. Her eyes desperately scanned the crowd of unfamiliar faces for the one she loved. When they finally found him, she nearly dropped to the floor. His hair was longer than it had been, yet with the way the curls bounced and lay perfectly, she knew he had gotten it trimmed. His skin glowed against his white silk dress shirt and his pants hung deliciously low on his hips. And his eyes, his eyes were so green. She wanted to run to him. Wanted to run and throw herself in his arms shamelessy and make him promise to never let her go.

She wasn’t clean. Not in the slightest. Nothing superficial like time could cleanse her of him. He was under her skin.

He had been watching her stand by the fountain for ten minutes. He could tell she was looking for him but he couldn’t be seen yet. He needed more time to admire her from a far. She was beautiful, she was always beautiful, but seeing her after all those months only made her even more exquisite. Her hair was curled, not straight like she usually wore it. Harry found himself wondering if she did it like that for the occasion or if that was how she liked to wear it all the time now. He wanted to get to know her again.
When their eyes locked, it was like the room stopped spinning. Like the world stopped turning. Wordlessly they said how much they loved and missed each other. But out loud, they said nothing at all.

“Hey,” Harry said sheepishly, shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

“Hi,” she said in a hushed tone.

“You look…” they each said at the same time.

“You first…” they said again.

“You look beautiful,” Harry said. His gaze lingered lovingly on her face. She flushed deep pink. Harry wanted to caress the stained skin.

“And you look very handsome, Mr. Styles,” she said nervously. Why was she being so formal?

Harry shuffled his feet. There was so much he wanted to say, he didn’t know where to begin. Was she okay? How was work? How were her parents? Did she know he was still madly in love with her?

“We better go,” Y/N said. “Ceremony is about to start.” She had planned their meeting perfectly. She didn’t want to leave too much time for…for whatever it was that they were doing.

When everyone’s eyes were on the bride and groom at the front, his eyes were on her. The intensity of his stare was making her warm. She could feel it heat her entire body as she watched the couple exchange their vows. Tears fell down her cheeks, making Harry’s heart break. How come other people always got what she wanted?

She had barely touched her food, mainly just moving her fork around the plate. Harry stared worriedly at her full plate as he ate his own dinner. She needed to eat. He didn’t like it when she didn’t eat. But he also knew she didn’t eat when she was anxious. Which she most likely was. Harry would have done just about anything to see a smile on her sad face.

Dance. She liked to dance.

“Dance with me,” Harry said as the waiters cleared their plates.

“What?” She asked with a soft smile. Almost there.

“I want to dance with you,” he said slowly.

“Dance? There’s too many people,” she pointed out shyly.

“Oh come on, no one will be looking at us,” he lied. They would though, she was too beautiful not to be stared at.

“Fine,” she gave in, rolling her eyes playfully.

She was laughing. She was actually laughing. Her and Harry were too terrible at dancing for it not to be considered funny. His lanky body awkwardly moved to the music and she didn’t do too much better. Too lost in their own world, they were oblivious to the stares of the guests. They were getting lost in the music, with each bump of the bass, they fell deeper into the hole they knew they’d have trouble getting out of. Their lids were heavy as they stared into each other’s orbs. The intensity overwhelmed Y/N. She turned her body sharply around and almost tripped over her own feet. Harry’s large hands immediately found the back of her hips. He squeezed gently and it felt like her entire body was set on fire. Struggling to take a breath, she weaved in and out of the crowd until she in the clear.

She left Harry standing alone for the second time in ten months.

Would she ever stop running from him? Would he ever know why? He decided to give her space, figuring that was all she needed. But he had to watch her, just to make sure she was safe. She was like a baby deer, all big eyes and seductive innocence. Harry felt bile rise in his throat as he saw the animal approach her. His smile was slimy and his eyes were cold. When he saw her tense, Harry sprang into action. Her eyes widened as she saw Harry. For once, she was running toward him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burning the both of them.

“Having a good night, mate?” Harry asked tersely.

“I am. Beautiful night, don’t you think?” His eyes flashed to Y/N.

Harry took a step forward, causing her to tighten her grip. He calmed immediately.

“Asshole,” Harry muttered towards the man who was now walking away.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

His heart broke. As if he wouldn’t do absolutely anything for her.

“You’re alone for two seconds and the wolves come out,” he said quietly.

She paused, not knowing how to respond. “I better get going,” she decided.

Harry nodded, pursing his lips. “Did you want to come back to mine?” He suggested shyly. He knew she was going to turn him down even before her lips parted.

“I’ve got a hotel room,” she said. “But you…you can come there…if you want, I mean.”

There was nothing he wanted more than to be alone with her. Just the two of them and their many broken parts.

“Sure,” he nodded. Inside, he was screaming.

Harry stood with his hands behind his back on the elevator ride up to her floor. If he didn’t, one hand would have been clasping her small hands above her head and the other would be caressing the body he missed so much, his mouth on her hers.

He kept his perverted thoughts to himself as she slid the key into the lock. She stepped to the side to give him room to enter. She placed her purse on the table and walked towards the miniature fridge.

“Do you want something? A drink or something to eat?” She asked politely.

The only thing Harry wanted was her.

“I’m fine, thanks. But how about you? Are you hungry?” His eyes were soft but his words were stern.

“I’m fine,” she repeated his words back to him. She frowned slightly, hating that he noticed her lack of appetite.

Sighing, Harry walked over to her lean body and gently roamed his hands over the slight curves in her frame. Relief washed over him as he felt no protruding bones. He needed to make sure she was healthy. He didn’t know what he would have done if she wasn’t.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and even though the gesture itself wasn’t sexual, she could feel herself getting turned on.

“What’re you… what’re you doing?” She couldn’t help but moan. Harry wanted to swallow the sound. His lips trailed down the exposed skin of her shoulder, nibbling softly. It had been so long. She felt her knees weaken.

“Steady there,” Harry whispered in her ear as he grabbed her hips. Her heart flipped. She needed to keep her heart out of this.

“Stop, we can’t do this,” she said quietly.

Harry’s hands dropped immediately. “Do what?” He asked flatly.

“I…I don’t know,” she gulped. His fingers began to delicately trace her neck.

“This? You want me to stop this?” His lips pressed into the hollow of her throat.

“Yes,” she breathed. She didn’t even know what she was saying. When she felt his hardness press into her, she came to her senses. “Stop, Harry!”

He took two steps backwards, hurt clear on his face. “Sorry,” he said huskily.

“I…I just…”

“Please, Y/N, you don’t have to explain. I didn’t mean to lose control,” he said carefully.

She was the one losing control. Anything more from him and his clothes would have been ripped off.

“It’s not you,” she said suddenly.

Harry nodded, looking solemnly towards the floor. “Why’d you invite me here?”

She shrugged, beginning to feel emotional. “I missed you,” she admitted.


“But I don’t know if anything has changed,” she cried.

Everything has changed, he wanted to scream. Yet nothing changed. He still loved her more than life itself and she was still so scared to get her heart broken that she ended up being the one hurting herself.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly. She was quietly sobbing into her hands. His presence was overwhelming her. She was just so confused. She had barely survived their months apart, and she had left him. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if he ever left her. And one day he would. That, she was sure of him. She wasn’t special. Not like him.

Harry quietly stepped into the bathroom. He untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it to give him some air. He heard a light knock on the door. He opened it to reveal a half dressed Y/N staring at the chiseled muscles on his stomach.

“I needed your help with the bottom part of the zipper,” she said quietly, still staring at his body. He chuckled lightly, coming alive under her stare. She knew she was being rude, so she forced herself to drag her eyes to his face. A scribble of ink caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Harry tensed, knowing she had seen it.

“What…what the hell, Harry?”

She traced her fingers over the cursive letters, feeling the thump of his heartbeat as she did so.

“You got a tattoo of my initials?” She barely whispered. She began to lift her fingers but Harry gently smothered her hand, flattening it against his heart.

“I did,” he said in a rough voice.


Harry tilted her chin so that she was looking directly at his face. “Because Y/N, no matter how much you run, how long we go without seeing each other, this, us, you, are permanent to me.”

Y/N’s heart was in her throat as she digested his words. There was nothing she could say. No words of her own would ever sound as right.

So instead she kissed him. Kissed him hard. His lips parted in surprise before they moved rhythmically with hers. Their tongues collided, teasing and tasting each other. Her fingers knotted in his hair and his hands caressed her sides. When she pulled off his shirt and ran her small hands over his defined pecs, he knew he needed to have all of her. But not if she didn’t want to.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a strained voice.

She nodded excitedly, her eyes light with fire and passion. “I want you, I want you so badly Harry.”

Piece by piece, their clothes were discarded and her walls were torn. They made slow, passionate love on the hotel floor till the early hours of the morning. They had barely came up for air, except for him to tell her how sure he was and for her to say how sorry she had been for running. His fingers dipped into his body with a feverish passion. She was there, and he was inside her, but he could never know how long she’d give him. With his body buried deep inside hers, she felt a strong sense of belonging she hadn’t felt before. They were meant to be. And whether she left or he left, they come back for each other. Always.

She woke up alone on the thick carpet. Memories of the night flooded her mind at once. Her lips tingled and her thighs were sore. She flashed back to images of Harry thrusting into her relentlessly. She was sad to be alone. But maybe she deserved to be left.

“I got you breakfast,” Harry said, startling her. There was a nervous look in his eyes and he looked both sexy and shy in only his underwear.

She nodded and stood, grabbing his dress shirt to cover her naked body. Seeing her, dressed like that, Harry decided that there wasn’t anyone or anything he had ever loved more.

Y/N made her way to the table, where a blueberry muffin sat next to a small box. She felt her heart sink to the pits of her stomach and she didn’t know why. She wanted to question if it was for her, but somehow she knew it was. She heard Harry sharply inhale as she unwrapped the blue ribbon. She popped open the velvet box and it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. This isn’t…no, it couldn’t be.

“Marry me,” Harry said. He was so sure yet so scared.

A violent sob ripped through Y/N’s body. Harry felt like crumpling to his knees in front of her. She cried because she knew he wasn’t leaving. And if he wasn’t, she wasn’t.

“Yes,” she said finally, barely recognizing her own voice.

“Yes?” Harry asked, tears in his eyes.

“Yes,” she repeated.

It was time she gave her heart a break.

anonymous asked:

I can so imagine Harry getting his twins mixed up (if they were identical). Like maybe there both dressed the same and he'd ask one of them a question but they mess him around ('I'm not Darcy daddy she is') like the Weasley twins in Harry Potter and there stood there giggling at the fact there daddy got them mixed up. And when he finds out all he can do is laugh because he's got his little girls all mixed up x

I always imagine Harry to get his little girls mixed up when they’re laying in their bassinets in the hospital, fresh and newborn and ready for cuddles, and he’s towering and hovering over their small bodies with you as you both coo down at them and try to distinguish differences to help see which one is which twin. And he’d have his arm around your waist, admiring his little girls as they slept peacefully, a smile on his lips as he presses them to your head.

“That one is Darcy.”

“You reckon? How can you tell?”

“She’s got a cute, little button nose and full lips where Rose has a slightly longer nose and pinker and smaller lips.”
“Well, you’re wrong. Darcy’s the one with smaller lips and Rose is the one with fuller lips.”

“Daddy’s lips.”

“And Alfie. He has the same as you.”

“P and Darce got lucky with mummy’s perfectly kissable lips, hm?”

And he’d smile and rest his head against yours before helping you back up onto the hospital bed and tucking you in comfortably under the thin covers, saying his goodbyes and giving you more kisses and a tight hug - “be back tomorrow with our other two little monsters. Mum said they’re excited as ever. Get some proper sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.”

But, when they’re older and walking and maybe even starting nursery, they’ll always dress the same because not only did you find it adorable, but they loved looking like the other. And you’d find it particularly adorable when you (or Harry) would dress them in clothes that made them look like sweet china dolls; red and white dresses, eccentric patterned dresses and even jeans and button-ups that Harry would pay for from designer shops and outlets.

And even then, he’d never tell the difference because they looked so similar.

“Who have I got here? Let’s see. I’ve got Rosie, haven’t I?”

“No, daddy. I’m Darcy.”

“Oh, Darcy. Silly me.”

“Silly, daddy.”

And he’d chuckle and kiss their heads before they’d scurry away back to the living room to sit with their elder siblings - “3 years, Peaches. 3 years and you still cannot tell the difference. I think you need to invest in some glasses or some contact lenses, hm.”

But when it got to being old enough to understand teasing, they’d take it further and dress the same and change names for the day to confuse everyone, especially Harry. And they’d cuddle with him individually and he’d be guessing who was cuddled with him, paying extra attention to the minor differences they had between them that made them easy to distinguish. And after a good 5 years, they’d have grown little differences that made them easy to depict - Darcy has similar freckles above her top lip like Harry and Rose hasn’t - and Harry would know when they’re teasing and trying to confuse him, and all he can do is chuckle and pull them into a hug.

“Rosie, you know daddy loves you, right?”

“I’m not Rose, daddy. I’m Darcy.”

But, he knows he has Rose because she hasn’t got the freckles on her upper lip.

“Oh, my apologies, Darcy Anne.”

“It’s okay, daddy.”

“Where is Rose, hm? Is she sleeping?”

“She’s with mummy in the kitchen.”

“Oh, is she? She’s doing some baking?”

“Making cookies, daddy.”

“But, Rosie doesn’t bake with mummy, normally. You do, Darce.”

And he’d watch her smile as she buried her face into his shoulder and sighed in playful annoyance.

“Rosie, you cheeky monkey. Daddy can tell the difference between you now.”

“It’s funny to tease you, daddy.”

“It’s funny, hm? Do you like watching me freak out?”

He’d waste no time in digging his fingers into her hips and he’d tickle her as she squealed in shock, and it wouldn’t be long until Darcy and you came from the kitchen and joined in with the fun; an amused Persephone and a laughing Alfie soon joining in before it ended with tired and out of breath cuddles on the sofa. xx


Ну разве это не прекрасно? Вот, что такое настоящая забота. Когда эти двое где-то в толпе, Луи просто кладет руку на талию Гарри или идет сзади, направляя и защищая его, а не ведет за собой, чуть ли не ломая руку. “отсылочка к Дани”

Tea Mugs & Tear Stains

A little blurb to share with y’all while I work away at HALF. Sorry it’s taking me so long to write this update, I wanna get it perfect! In the meantime I hope you like the little blurbs I set out! Xo.

* * *

You weren’t always the best at staying calm. 

You were usually pretty good at it. You had a level head and could keep your stress under control ninety-nine percent of the time.

But every once in a while, things would pile up and spin out of control. Every once in a while things would become too much to bear even for you, and that’s when the one percent came out.

You were making yourself a cup of tea to try to calm your anxiety. You weren’t a frequent tea drinker, Harry was usually the one to drink it and often remind you of all the health benefits, but tonight you needed something to bring you back down and ground yourself. Harry had been at the studio all evening and you didn’t want to bother him with your problems if there wasn’t a solid solution to them.

You grabbed ahold of the handle of the mug and were about to walk over to the couch when your hand betrayed you, trembling suddenly and causing a significant amount of tea to fall onto your wrist. Hissing quietly at the sting, your first instinct was to release, which sent the glass mug to the floor with a loud shatter.

The rest of the hot beverage was now spilled across the floor and sprinkled with shards of the broken mug, and that was the tipping point. 

You felt your tears well up in your eyes as kneeled onto the ground to try to clean, but you were suddenly overcome by a wave of stress and settled for sitting down in the kitchen tile and hugging your knees to your chest, curling up as small as you possibly could.

You had a laundry list of things that had to be done in your head, not to mention everything that had gone wrong or unlike you’d planned. Work had been hell this week and you’d been trying to fix everything but the universe really just seemed to be against you. You’d overworked yourself so much that you hadn’t had time to unwind, especially with Harry recording so much lately and spending less time at home. He was often the one to remind you to eat or to take a few minutes to yourself, so without that reminder you’d often forget to eat breakfast or work until you fell asleep at your computer. It all added up to this moment: you, sitting on the kitchen floor, eyes puffy and red as your cried quietly, sitting beside the broken glass.

“Baby, I’m home!” 

The sound of his voice breathed air into you for the first time in what seemed like forever. You couldn’t see him from where you were in the house and it took you a few moments to build up your voice enough to reply, but you finally replied, voice trembling.

“I’m in the k-kitchen,” you called out softly, your arms and legs beginning to shake. You suddenly got cold, and you weren’t even sure that Harry had heard your reply. But you then heard him enter the room, and it took a minute until he found you, huddled up within yourself behind the island.

“(Y/N)!” He called out your name, his eyes widening with unabashed concern as he rushed to you and got down on the ground beside you. He was on his knees, his hands on your shoulders as you began to shake more violently, your teeth chattering at this point. You didn’t remember it being this cold in the room fifteen minutes ago. 

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He tried to reach you again, his large palms caressing the length of your arms in an attempt to warm you up as he caught sight of the goosebumps on your skin.

“It’s so c-c-cold and I can’t stop c-crying and I don’t know why, I’m so sorry this is so stupid, I dropped and broke the mug, oh God, I’m so stupid I broke it I broke it I broke it,” you rambled quickly and almost incoherently, your voice coming out between short breaths and the tears still streaming steadily down your face.

You’d only ever had one panic attack before, and it was such a long time ago that you couldn’t even remember, but if you had to guess you’d say that this was another one. Your breathing was short and shallow and your frame didn’t stop shaking, no matter how hard you tried. Everything in your mind was piled up like a garbage dump, all the things that loomed above your head finally collapsing onto your shoulders.

“Oh, baby. Shhh, com’ere,” Harry cooed softly, and he situated himself behind you. He stretched his legs out on either side of your frame so you could lean against his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you; one slipped firmly around your waist to hold you against him, and the instance your body was met with the warmth that radiated from his own, you immediately felt a bit more at peace. His other arm was wrapped around you across your chest, in a way that he could lay his palm flat over your chest where your heart resides.

“Breathe with me, love. You can do it, c’mon. Take all the time y’need,” he murmured against the shell of your ear in a tone so loving that you almost broke. Your own hands immediately grasped onto his that was resting atop of your heartbeat and you squeezed softly, your lids falling shut as you tilted your head back against his shoulder.

“Breathe in…breathe out…stay with me, my beautiful girl,” he guided you patiently, his voice never faltering in strength nor tenderness as he sat with you. You followed his instructions, matching your breathing to his words as best you could. His voice filled the room as he repeated himself over and over, and there was never a hint of impatience in his tone. There was only ever love and perhaps a little bit of worry here and there. 

Harry grounded you. He was the anchor that pulled you back together when everything fell apart. In every other aspect of your life you felt like you always had to be put together, because others depended on you. You didn’t often get anxious to this degree, and since you always looked like you had it together people just expected you to always be put together. But never Harry. He accepted you as you were, and he didn’t have any of those expectations. He was happy to just let you be and be there with you along the way.

About ten minutes later you were laying calmly in his arms with your eyes shut. You had finally stopped shivering, and you felt exhausted from all that crying. When the room was filled with nothing except for your quiet sniffles here and there, you heard his voice again. 

“How’re we doin’, princess?”

You exhaled a shaky sigh and gave his hand a squeeze, lifting it from your chest to your lips so that you could press soft kisses to each and every knuckle, including the ones that had been decorated with his signature rings. 

“Better…thank you, my love,” you whispered, your voice raspy from it all. You felt his lips pressing against the top of your head and staying there. You counted seven seconds until he pulled away and gave your frame a little squeeze.

“Mm, I’m glad…but you weren’t jus’ crying because of a broken dish, beautiful,” he prodded gently, settling his fingers beneath your chin to lift your features up so that he could get a good look at them. “Wha’s going on?”

You looked at his face for a long moment. You didn’t know what you would do without this man. This man, who despite being hard at work the entire day, dropped to his knees and held you for who knows how long. He had a knack for being there right when you needed him, and some days you could swear he was an actual angel.

“I’m…I’m just overwhelmed. I have so many things to do at work, and I’m so TIRED, I can’t remember when I got a good night’s rest…” you admitted, a bit shamefully. You didn’t want Harry to think that you couldn’t function without him, and you knew it was possible he’d feel a little but guilty that he wasn’t around as much this week.

He was silent for a few seconds, and you were about to speak again when you heard his voice.

“Why don’ we make a list, hm? You like lists, right? I see you writin’ them down all the time,” he offered as he began pressing soft kisses along the side of your neck and down your shoulder. You exhaled a happy little sigh. He was right—the first thing you always did when you were overwhelmed like this was to write down everything that was on your mind and tackle each thing one by one. It touched you that he’d payed attention enough to notice.

“That sounds like a good plan,” you said with a soft smile, the first one since you’d gotten home that day.

“Perfect. But you’re gettin’ a good couple hours o’ sleep first. No fightin’ me on it, either,” he threatened, his voice stern yet loving at the same time.

“But— ”

“No buts, (Y/N). You need your rest—I jus’ found you in pieces on the floor, for God’s sake. Not tha’ I mind holding you, but I’d rather do it without the tears,” he declared, nuzzling his nose softly against the smooth skin of your cheek. “Y’know it breaks m’heart to see you in pain…” 

You closed your eyes again and nodded, his words striking a chord with you. You knew it hurt Harry to see you in pain, maybe even more than it had hurt you.

“Alright,” you agreed.

He seemed content with your response, and gave you a final tight squeeze before unwinding himself from your frame.

“Off t’bed you go, then. I’ll get this all cleaned up,” he offered. You stood up off of the ground and turned to look at him. He had already picked himself up as well, and he looked down at you with such love and unshaken admiration that it was hard to not throw yourself at him and live in his arms the rest of your life.

“Are you coming, too?”

“Of course,” he reassured. Satisfied with his answer, you turned and headed towards the bedroom. 

About ten minutes later, when you had gotten yourself settled into bed in your (Harry’s) sweater and a pair of sweatpants, you heard him enter the room. You slowly opened your eyes and watched him as he peeled his shirt off of his torso and wiggled himself out of his jeans. You knew you were supposed to be sleeping, but you couldn’t without Harry’s warmth. So when you finally felt his body shift the mattress and his arms wind around you, you exhaled a soft sigh of relief. You heard him chuckle softly in response, his legs playfully intertwining with yours. 

“Better?” He mumbled, pressing you tight against his chest.

“Much,” you whispered, already half asleep. “I’m sorry I’m such a crying, panicky mess.”

He stayed quiet for a long time, and for a second you thought you’d said something wrong, until you felt his lips linger against the back of your shoulder, followed by a low whisper.

“If you’re gonna be a cryin’, panicky mess…well, I’ll be here t’hold you every time.”

1D Hiatus: Day 256

* Louis appears in Lottie’s Snapchat story

* Pap pictures of Louis, Lottie, Danielle and friends arriving at Cirque Le Soir last night are released

* According to an interview with Michael Buble, the song Harry wrote with Meghan Trainor will be on Michael’s album

* #LouisTakeCareOfYourself trends on Twitter

* Nick Grimshaw talks about Harry on the Radio 1 Breakfast Show

* Owen Roddy posts a picture with Niall on Twitter

It’s Aug 25th, 2016.

anonymous asked:

Tfln where Niall texts Harry and talk about Dunkirk and golf please

Niall. Harry.

Harry, lad!

I miss you.


Hey, mate.

I miss you too. Miss the lot of you, honestly.

When are you home?

I’m home in a couple of weeks.

I popped by to see your missus the other day.

Think I caught her at the wrong time.


Thought I’d pop by and take her out for a coffee.

I was bored. Tommo was busy with his missus, Liam has gone missing and I got sick and tired of being on my own.

You really do miss me, don’t you?

Of course.

I used your spare key since no one answered.

Caught her in a mess, I did.

A mess?

Is everything okay?

She’s a clumsy one when she’s on her own sometimes.

I came home the other month to 5 glasses in the cupboard. We had 10 and she dropped 5. 

Not that kind of mess.

For Christ sake.

You walked in on her?

I didn’t mean too.

She was in the bedroom. 

I thought she was sleeping.

The door was shut and I couldn’t hear anything, so, I knocked and walked in and she was on top of the covers.

Safe to say she misses you.

I miss her too.

Funny thing, do you have a fleshlight?

Your missus has a dildo, do you have a fleshlight? 

Piss off, dickhead.

Are you using it on set?

I don’t have one, dickhead.

You sure?

I’ve got two hands.

Dirty bastards.

The both of you. ;) ;)

Piss off.

How’s your first movie going, movie star?

You are the whole package, aren’t you?

I try.

It’s going so good. 

Chris Nolan is brilliant, all the actors are so wonderful, and it’s such a weird yet exhilarating experience to be on the camera for something other than being filmed on stage for the big screens for the audience of our shows, you know?

I can imagine.

I’ve spoken to your missus.

She said she’s so proud of you.

She says it every time I see her, Niall. I’m doing this for her.

I can’t even begin to explain how amazing this is, and how great it feels to try something new, and I can’t put into words how excited I am about where this goes in the future.

You reckon you’ll get more movies?

I’d like for that to happen, of course.

Dunkirk is just the start of it all, Niall.

You know we’re always going to support you. Us three lads couldn’t be more excited for what you’re doing.

We do miss seeing you when you come home, but, we understand that your missus has your attention.

It’s not her wanting my attention. She’s always saying I can go out with you and Louis and Liam and Grimmy but, it’s always weeks of not seeing her so I want to get as much time with her squeezed in as possible.

No, that’s understandable.

We would hate to steal you from her when you miss her.

You mope around when that happens.

Funny one.

I just love her.

Being away from home right now is really tough.

You’re home in a couple of weeks, Harry.

Just work your arse off, come home, and we can all go out together - your missus. Tommo’s missus. Everyone.

That sounds good.




We can go play golf.


I’ve seen you’ve been putting your golfing to the test.

I have.

It’s so good.

I will beat your arse next time.

Not if your missus is there, Harry.

You get distracted like crazy when she’s around.

Remember last time?

She had golf trousers on that made her bum look so good.

I know.

You squeezed it a lot.

My favourite part of her.


I can tell you’re missing her.

I’ll let you have some Skype sex with her now.

Already doing it.

She says hi.

You’re disgusting!

I’m joking, Niall!

I’m joking.

Although she sent me back a pretty decent selfie.

Sent back!?

You’ve changed.

You sent a dick pic.

She’s my missus.

We do what we like.

She likes me in my Dunkirk outfit.



Go jerk off.

See you when I get home.

Miss youuuuuuuu. x

Go away.



I miss you too. x