original styles

when your life’s a mess and you’re watching too many shows

and shipping too many ships but you’re done fighting it and decide to just go with the flow:

Red

I am FINALLY done with this. Hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know if you do, your comments are very much appreciated. Lots of love, B xx

Originally posted by hotsauceharry

Red.

It’s all he can see when he looks at you. It’s the color that paints your lips and it’s the only thing he’s been able to think about all night long.

When he picked you up earlier tonight, on your way to a dinner with a group of friends, his eyes had zoomed in on your lips the second you opened the car door to greet him - while you stepped inside and leaned in to say hello, placing a chaste and pert kiss on his cheek, his eyes followed your lips as you came closer.

“What color is that? Crimson? Bright red?” Is what he thinks, the shades of it swirling in his mind. He doesn’t know and he’s tempted to ask you but to do that was to show he’s been paying more attention to you than he’s got the right to and maybe it’d give you the wrong impression - he’s not interested in your lipstick but more on the way the color makes your lips look full and incredibly inviting.

Biting onto his bottom lip after greeting you quickly, his eyes fleet to his rear view mirror, spotting the patch of skin close to his jaw where you had placed your kiss - a lipstick mark remains, the shape of your lips stamped onto his skin in a bright shade of red.

The sight gave him goose bumps and he couldn’t explain why, but when you leaned forward on his front seat, the visor pulled down so you could look in the mirror and make sure your lipstick was not smudged, Harry felt his stomach sink - images of you on your knees, eyes hazy and lips swollen while you suck on his cock with greedy, swollen and red painted lips, leaving a stain on his length, invaded his mind without his permission and he feels his cock twitch in his pants, heat rising underneath his skin.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You should totally do a blurb about Harry having to wake up really early for all of his radio interviews on Friday morning and having to say goodbye while (y/n) is still half asleep! It would be so cute and fluffy:)

This request was right up my alley. A bit of fluff before we all.. you know, die. x


Endeavor



He’s trying to move as quietly as possible, careful not to leave the bathroom door open more than a crack so the light doesn’t shine on your face as he tiptoes back and forth between it and the room. It’s early outside, the sky skill a dark, brooding shade of blue and the sun is still hibernating until it absolutely needs to be up.

He’s currently standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to tame his wildly growing hair in a decent way. Although he won’t actually be on a television show today, he knows there’s bound to be paparazzi around the studios he’s going to. The tips Lou had given him have managed to fly out of his head. He sighs quietly, tapping his fingers along the counter and glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out as he exhales. He’s nervous, exuberantly so. But even more so, he’s buzzing from his toes to the top of his head, the familiar feeling of anticipation and excitement bubbling in him. It’s been a year since he’s felt it, a year since he’s done what he loves to do, and this time around, he’s doing it exactly how he wants.

With one final glance towards the mirror, and a squirt of Tom Ford, he flips the switch gently and walks out into your room. His boots are clacking against the wood floors and he hisses, glancing up at you quickly as he comes to a stop. You’re unperturbed, though, still sound asleep with your head tilting a bit too far off your pillow. The skin around his eyes crinkle and the corners of his mouth lift up in his first smile of the day. The scene before him is one he’s seen many times, granted, usually he’s next to you with a much closer view. Your hair is sticking to your cheek and you’ve got the fluffy blankets you insist on having every night pulled up around you, he assumes to make up for the lack of his warmth. One of them is slipping off the bed and laying halfway on the floor.

Keep reading

Braids

Originally posted by ohbabyyeah

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It’s the longest I’ve written on this blog and I’d really appreciate the feedback here  – I’m most likely doing a Part 2 depending on how you all like it. Enjoy :)

Harry loved family reunions.

Amongst the bickering cousins and lurid pitter-patter of children, he often found himself feeling at peace as his folks filled him in on all the stories he’s missed out on. He’d laugh about his jittery uncle who nearly burnt his eyebrows off from an old barbecue, nodding approvingly as his aunt gushes about her eight year old who’s just won the flashy new title of spelling bee champion. He likes the way they treat him too. With adoration in their eyes, resurrecting from the years they’ve watched him as a young boy (instead of the usual gaze of stardom he’s used to). He almost, if not, especially enjoys the way they admire his success, not as an ego-booster, but as a way of praising Anne for his upbringing, despite the major gossip that briefly tainted his mother’s name around her first divorce.

But even in a house packed with his most favourite people, he would always feel relatively exhausted from the length of the reunion, a full four days he’d reckoned. It was unfair really, he loved his crazy family, but he always felt like he had to put on his best face, never getting his usual dose of solitude to rejuvenate.

So when Harry first invited you to join him, he hadn’t quite expected you to be so patient with his family.

“Yes, he is very handsome,” you’d chuckle, “but we’re only friends.”

“You’re sweet, love, but I think this little girl wins the beauty contest, hmm?”

“Right, he is very good with kids.”

“M’only in uni, ma’am, so I’ve got a few good years before settling down.”

Keep reading

  • Liam: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.
  • Niall: What if it bites me and it dies.
  • Liam: That means you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, learn to read!
  • Niall: What if it bites itself and I die.
  • Zayn: It’s voodoo.
  • Niall: What if it bites me and someone else dies?
  • Liam: That’s correlation, not causation.
  • Niall: What if we bite each other and neither of us die?
  • Harry: That’s kinky.
  • Louis: Oh my god.
Amends

For the following request: “Could you please do a blurb where harry and the reader get into an argument?” 

This one is rather long, and angsty… Hope you all enjoy :) x



“What do you mean you can’t come? We’re in the bridal party, Harry..” you trail off meekly, staring at him with wide eyes over the top of your laptop.

He’s leaning against the doorway of your shared room with his arms crossed against the chest of the white t shirt he has on, tattooed arms glowing in the light of the sunset that’s streaming through the parted curtains, “Christ, love.. I kno’. But there’s nothin’ I can do… yeh kno’ I’d be there if I could.”

You blink at him in disbelief over your screen before you lower it to a close, sitting up on the bed and curling your legs towards you as you set the computer aside. You’re at a loss for words and the silence in between you two is deafening. He’s talking about missing your sister’s wedding this weekend, a wedding that has been planned months in advance.

“Say somethin,” he commands with a rasping voice, causing you to look up at him from your shocked reviere.

“Can’t you talk to Jeff? Harry everyone’s expecting us…” you try again with a weak voice, tilting your head at him. All your extended relatives were excited to meet Harry, but most especially your grandparents.

He sighs deeply and pushes off the doorway, making his way towards you and sitting on the bed next to you. He covers your knee with a hand, giving it a loving squeeze as he looks you carefully in the eye, “Tried, my love. S’just something ‘ve got t’do. S’fo m’job innit?”

His last statement makes the dropping sense of disappointment in your stomach pause for a moment.  He has a point. In all your time with Harry, you hadn’t often resented his career. It was a lot to handle, yes. From the hate, to the never ending flashes of cameras, to the overwhelming feeling of him being gone time and time again. His career was something he worked so hard for  and he made you so proud.  He handled as much as he personally could with charm and a careful heart, and even if you weren’t dating him- you know you’d admire him. Especially with his upcoming album, one that he’s worked so tirelessly for, one that you had convinced him was golden time and time again, you know this last minute nuisance of a event is crucial. And although the overwhelming part of you wants to throw a fit, you know you won’t.

His eyes are sincere and his brows are furrowed as he watches every inch of your face closely. You can tell he feels guilty, and you shake your head boldly before clearing your throat, “Y-yeah You’re right. It’s okay, Harry.”

Harry sighs with relief, giving you a boyish grin before he leans forward and presses a puckering kiss to your cheek in appreciation, “S’my girl. Knew yeh would understand fo’ me.”

That had been 4 days ago, and you thought you would understand. Because you had time and time again, but now, sitting with your hair pinned up in two dozen different places and aching feet to accompany your sour mood- you think otherwise. It had been a succession of events that had led you to feeling so… damn sorry for yourself. From your cousin having to step in to accompany you in the bridal festivities, to answering the question of Harry’s whereabouts from countless relatives, to Harry not even sending you a text throughout the day, and to now- watching the couples of all types dancing away: daddy/daughter, bride and groom, old aunts and uncles, and your parents. You feel completely alone in a room full of people, and slightly humiliated too.

Keep reading