Harry Styles: The old guy that comes in every night and gets a ginger tea. He is moving to France in a month and is very concerned they won’t have his favorite ginger tea there. I offer him a can with 30 teabags, he refuses. Gets 6 teabags in one large cup instead…Tips me $1 after each 53 cent refill. I make bank.
Liam Payne: The teenage guy that comes in with his Russian girlfriend every night like an hour before we close to study and I’m just thinking, hey man you’re putting quite the time crunch on yourself you don’t need that kinda pressure my guy. Always asks if I know his drink. Definitely know their drinks. Sort of acts like an old man but in an endearing way. Very lovingly pours a sugar packet in his girlfriends soy caramel latte.
Louis Tomlinson: That guy that comes in every damn time and is on his phone the whole line and waits til he gets to the front to order, still on his phone, and says, “Uhhhh I don’t know what I want” while me and the 10 people behind him collectively sigh. He feels bad and tips the 83 cents from his change in the jar. Comes back later and gives me a dollar.
That guy that comes in everyday exactly at 3pm and chills for awhile. He always gets a Matcha Green Tea Frappuccino but gets double the matcha. And when I ask if it’s enough he just keeps saying more and more and after 8 scoops I’m literally dying because that’s so much green tea, he looks at me with an almost chaotic smile and nods. I’ve won his approval. Always tips super nice guy.
Maybe Asher gets sick in part 5 and
Harry is at home all week with him and y/n stops by or doesn’t hear from him
Here is a little 4.8k word something to keep you up with the Harry feels; some cuddly Harry mixed in with daddy Harry. The next one is when the story really kicks up a notch and we see Harry and (Y/N) become boyfriend and girlfriend as well as Harry introducing Asher to her, as well. Thank you for being so incredible towards this - I’ve been receiving so much love and lovely messages towards this AU and it makes me so happy to know you’re loving it just as much I love writing it. xx
If there was one thing
that Harry couldn’t handle, it was sick.
Whether it be his own or where
it be someone elses, he just couldn’t stomach the sound of retching nor could
he stand the sight of watching someone throw the contents of their stomach into
the toilet bowl – or a bucket, depending on the person and the strength they
had to make it to the bathroom.
He’d been sick a far few
times himself – both illness-wise and alcohol induced.
He had a young child at
school surrounded by other children, who would pick up germs and spread them
around without knowing, so he was prone to catching a little something to
weaken his immune system.
He had mates who liked to
invite him out to the pubs in the middle of Cheshire, promising him a night of
female attention and beer and shots. Mates who he’d known for years, who he’d
gone to school with and who he’d met through mutual friends. Mates who liked to
get piss-drunk with beer-goggle vision, slurring words and spilling drinks as
they laughed louder than usual and bellowed out in hysterics. Mates who were so
prone to have hangovers in the morning that they were naturals at handling
their pounding headaches and cravings for a greasy fry-up to suffice the hunger
in their bellies; they were naturals to holding down their liquor, whereas
Harry was a deadweight. He couldn’t consume shot after shot and beer after beer
without needing to pop outside and cool himself down, hunching into a bush and
chucking up the alcohol that mixed together within him.
To him, there was nothing
worse than being a sweaty mess in a heap of sheets to keep his cold body warm,
a bubbling feeling of nausea in his belly that warned his feet to move or else
he’d be cleaning up his sick from the carpet; something that he couldn’t handle
when he had a weakened stomach. A head that was pounding, intensifying pain with
each noise and sound that filled the house – whether it be TV sounds of
cartoons Asher had decided to put on, whether it be his giggles that erupted
from phrases being said, or, whether it be the whistle of the kettle as he made
himself a detox tea to clear his system.
Sick was something he couldn’t
handle with ease.
When Harry was woken up
by the sounds of crying and the sound of retching, he knew his son wasn’t
feeling like himself. He knew he was going to be up for the majority of the
night, washing his sheets and he knew he was going to be up half of the night,
giving Asher the comfort he desired each time he was ill. Craving his daddy’s
attention and wanting nothing more than to cuddle into his side and find
comfort upon him with his head upon his chest, using him as a pillow as a
blanket draped over his tiny body to keep the chill away from his already cold
His bare feet stepped
across the carpet, the sounds of Asher’s cries intensifying as he pulled the
door to him, muffled cries out for ‘daddy’
being heard. His feet quickened their pace, toes pressing more rapidly against
the carpet lining the landing hallway of the house, his ringless hand pushing
open the door, flicking the bedroom light on, causing his stomach to churn
instantly at the sight coming into his vision. His son – crying loudly and
whining and sobbing and holding his belly with wet and shining cheeks painted
with tears – was sat up in his sheets, surrounded by his dinner from the
evening coating his duvet, hair sticking to his forehead and brushing his eyes.
Harry hadn’t any clue
that Asher was feeling this bad.
He’d complained about an
iffy tummy when he was sat in the bath, letting Harry wash his soft,
sandy-coloured curls and bathing his body in soap and shower gel, but Harry
hadn’t seen any change in his mannerisms. He’d given him a couple of spoonfuls
of Calpol to soothe the ache he had in his belly, he made sure he drank at
least half of the glass of water Harry had poured for him before he went to bed,
and he made sure he was set in bed with a reasonable temperature.
“Hey, bugger. Daddy’s
here, m’here,” Harry cooed, his feet brushing over his carpet and stepping foot
beside the bed, his eyes averting from the mess upon the duvet, “c’mon, come
here. Let’s get you in the shower, okay?”
“My tummy hurts, daddy,”
Asher cried, a hand holding tightly on the teddy-bear that Gemma had brought
him for his birthday in September, his other arm held into the air to
wordlessly ask Harry to lift him up from the bed, “I feel sick.”
He was pale.
His cheeks had lost the pink
colour they usually sported and his green eyes, that were inherited from Harry,
had lost the cheery spark that was usually settled in his eyes. His lips were
pale and bitten, his chin wobbling with each sob wracking through his body.
He was hot.
But he looked cold. He
was shaking, in need of some kind of warmth to balance his temperature out, and
his teeth were chattering as shivers unexpectedly ran up his spine.
“I know, bugger. It’s
alright. We’ll get you in the bathroom, and, then I’ll come back and clean your
sheets. You can sleep in daddy’s bed tonight, alright?” Harry questioned
softly, his hands cupping below the small boy’s armpits and lifting him from
the dirtied sheets.
“Hurts, daddy,” he
whispered, “don’t feel good.”
“I know, I know. You’ve
just got the bug. It’s been going around school, hasn’t it?” Harry hummed, his
cheek pressed against Asher’s head as his face nuzzled into his father’s neck,
“you’re alright, I promise. You just need a nice warm shower and a cuddle in
He felt Asher nod against
“I’ll phone school up
tomorrow and tell them you’re sick and not going in, okay?” Harry hummed,
stepped upon the tiles of the bathroom, sparks of cold coursing through him,
“gon’a help me undress you, yeah? Then we’ll get you into something a bit
“Can I sleep in one of your
t-shirts, daddy?” Asher wondered nervously, the pads of his feet being placed
on the fluffy bath mat set beside the bathtub, “your colourful one?”
“Y’ mean my Rolling
Stones one? You love that shirt,” he chuckled, crouching down in front of Asher
and hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his pyjama shirt. A weakened smile
on Asher’s lips before his face disappeared beneath the material of his t-shirt
being lifted over his head, “you did love that shirt when you were a little
baby, d’you know?”
It was the t-shirt he’d
worn when Grace – his ex-girlfriend – had gone into labour. The first piece of
clothing that his tired eyes focused upon after his eyelids had been ripped
open from the sudden hit to his shoulder with her tight fist. Hearing her
grunts and moans and hisses rolling off of her tongue with each contraction
rolling across her belly as he tugged the material over his head, letting it
mismatch with the pyjama trousers covering his legs.
It was the t-shirt his
son had been laid upon as soon as he’d entered the world, the 20-year old man
hugging him close to his chest as he watched his son nestle softly into the
crook of his arm. His precious button nose scrunched up as his cheek pressed against
his chest, hearing his father’s heartbeat pump as it lulled to him into a deep
It was the t-shirt he’d
used to wipe away at the tears dribbling down his cheeks, dampening the hem and
creating soft patches upon the white material. Yet, no matter how many times he
wiped away at the moisture forming under his eyes, he was still leaking with
happiness. Droplets catching upon the neckline as his tears dribbled down his
neck and absorbed into the neck.
“I used to lay you on
that t-shirt when you were tiny,” Harry explained, laying Asher’s pyjama shirt
on the counter, “you used to sleep on it, you always laid comfortably on me
when I wore it, and, you were forever sneaking into my drawer to find it when
you were a tiny toddler.”
Harry nodded, a smile on
his lips as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his elasticated pyjama
trousers, pulling them down his legs and letting them pool at his ankles.
“You loved it,” he
chuckled, “Grandpa Des brought that for me when he found it in the shop. We’ll
have to see if he can find one for you,” Harry stated, letting Asher pull his
pants down, leaving him bare and shivering more in front of him.
“M’cold, daddy,” he
mumbled, his arms hugging around his body.
“I know, bugger, I know.”
Harry stood straight,
wincing lightly as his back cracked, reaching over and turning the knobs in the
shower, watching as the water rained down from the shower head hanging from the
hook. Hot water covered Harry’s hand as he twisted around with the temperature,
making sure it wasn’t scolding hot nor freezing cold for the small boy
shivering underneath him.
“C’mon, bugger. In you
get,” he whispered softly, his hands hoisting him up and standing him beneath
the water falling from the shower head, immediately wetting his hand and
trailing down his cheeks, “how is that? Are you feelin’ warmer?”
“A little,” his son
whispered, “wan’a go to sleep, daddy. M’tired and sleepy.”
Harry gave him a
sympathetic smile, reaching into the corner and retrieving his blue scrunchie brought
as part of a shower package his mother had made him for Christmas last year –
something that Gemma had received and something that Michal had the honour of
A basket filled to the
brim of blue shower gels and hand moisturisers, as well as a few facial creams
that she’d seen to help his face from break-outs, some blue flannels and multiple
bottles of the shampoo and conditioner that he used. Enough bottles to last him
for months and months through the year, some that he shared with Asher and some
that he kept to himself for when he decided to pamper himself when his son was
tucked up and snoring away in bed.
“I know you are, I know,”
he cooed, wrapping his hand around his shower gel bottle and squeezing a blob
onto the scrunchie in his hand, “just a quick wash and then you can get dressed
into some clothes and lay in daddy’s bed whilst I clean your sheets. Yeah?”
“Will you sleep wi’ me?”
“Of course, bugger.
Wouldn’t let you suffer on your own, would I?” Harry chuckled softly, setting
the shower gel beside his knees upon the floor, his hand holding the scrunchie
immediately scrubbing his warm skin, “why didn’t you tell me you felt sick,
“I did,” he mumbled,
looking down to his toes, “but, I didn’t feel really sick back then, daddy. I
just had an ache in my tummy. Didn’t wan’a be sick then.”
“Why didn’t you wake me
up when you felt sick?” Harry questioned, wrapping his fingers softly around
Asher’s wrist to lift his arm up so he could wash beneath his armpit, “I would
have helped you, gotten you a bucket. You could have woken me up.”
“I went to get out of
bed, but, I was sick all over my duvet,” he whispered, his chin wobbling and
his eyes filling with new tears, “I didn’t mean too, daddy. I didn’t!”
Harry looked startled.
“Hey, no. I wasn’t
blaming you, Asher. It’s alright,” he cooed warmly, his chest beginning to ache
at the sobs leaving his sons mouth, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his
breath between sobs, “Asher, bugger, you need to stop this or you’re going t-”
But before he could finish
his sentence, the crying and the sobbing subsided and he felt his lap and the
bottom half of his bare stomach warm up and become covered in Asher’s belly
content. His pyjama trousers soiled and wet, his skin sticky, the smell making
his own belly churn and he found him trying to gather all self-control in his
body not to copy his son’s actions.
“Okay,” Harry coaxed
softly, a slight cringe in his movements as he dropped the scrunchie to the floor of the shower, “it’s alright. It’s fine. Do you
feel better? Are you okay now?”
“No,” Asher cried, his
voice shrill and broken, “I feel sick, daddy!”
“I know, I know,” he
whispered, rubbing his back and gently bringing him forward, his feet stepped
across the shower floor and closer to Harry, “Daddy’s gon’a try everything to
make you feel better, alright? You’re gon’a be alright. I promise.”
“Can I go to sleep, now?”
Asher whispered, a soft and sympathetic smile on Harry’s lips, “please?”
“O’ course, bugger. Come
on,” Harry cooed, standing to his feet, “wrap yourself in a towel, okay? I’m
gon’a wash this off and then we’ll get you tucked into bed.”
He took Asher’s hands in
his own, giving him proper stability on his shaking legs, helping him to stand
upon the fluffy bathroom mat set by the bathtub. His toes curling around the
tassels as Harry handed him a white and fluffy and warm looking towel from the
back of the door, watching as Asher tucked it around his frame.
Reaching for a flannel
sitting upon the rim of the sink, Harry set it beneath the running cold water faucet,
wetting the material before he brought it to the sick coating his lower
stomach. Wiping away at the content, he hooked his free hand into his pyjama
trousers, shuffling out of them and ridding his crotch of the dirtied clothing,
his tight boxers settled on his hips as the cotton clothing pooled at his
“M’sorry, daddy,” Asher
whispered from behind him, a soft gulp sounding from his throat, “Didn’t mean
it, daddy. I didn’t. I really didn’t.”
“I know, bugger. It’s
okay. It’s better out of you than kept inside of you,” he explained, cupping
his shoulder in his palm as he set the flannel upon the counter, with the dirty
clothes Asher had worn through the night, “you have to tell me when you’re
gon’a be sick, okay? We’ll get you to the bathroom or I’ll get you a bucket.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, his
wet hair dropping water onto the towel.
“C’mon, you. Let’s get
you into something comfier.”
The t-shirt swamped his
tiny frame, the hem hanging by his knees as the sleeves stopped and hung by
elbows. A giggle leaving his mouth as Harry gave him an amused smile, his phone
in his hand as he crouched down, promising to take one photo of him to send to
Des as a reminder to buy a t-shirt similar in print.
One that matched the one
his daddy owned.
One that he would wear
more often than any other t-shirt because his daddy wore his all the time.
“C’mon now,” Harry
chuckled, “you’re a little poser, aren’t you? Even when you’re sick. You take after your Auntie Gemma, for sure.”
“Needed to make it clear to
Grandad about what t-shirt I really want,” Asher explained with a smile,
letting Harry lift him up from the floor and hold him to his body. A new pair
of pyjama trousers hanging low on his hips, tied below his belly button with
“You need some sleep,
alright? It’s 4 in the morning,” Harry pointed out, his feet taking him to the
side of the bed that used to his ex-girlfriend’s but was now assigned to Asher
when he felt like joining his daddy in bed, “I need to go and wash your sheets
and put some clean ones back on your bed. Do you want anythin’ from in there?”
“Grumbles,” he stated
with his arms tight around his father’s neck, “my teddy-bear. I need Grumbles.
He helps me sleep.”
“A’right,” Harry smiled,
“try to sleep. You’ll feel a lot better if you get cosy and have a nap.”
He hunched down, laying his
5-year old upon the mattress showing from the pulled back duvet, his head
falling instantly to the pillow as his eyes found it difficult to stay open. He
still hadn’t gotten the colour back in his cheeks and he looked much more tired
than he did beforehand; the only different being the shivers and the shakes
coming to a halt as Harry covered his body with the thick duvet he found
himself sleeping under every night.
“I love you,” Harry
whispered, pressing his lips to Asher’s forehead, feeling his burning skin.
“I love you too, daddy.”
Harry hadn’t gone back to
sleep that morning.
His eyes alert and his
ears perking up more often to the sounds of the drowsy mumbles leaving Asher’s
mouth, his body finding it’s comfortable position of laying beside his son and being
used as a pillow as Asher rolled around upon the bed, finding instant comfort
nestled into Harry’s side.
He didn’t want to fall
asleep and block out the sounds of his son’s discomfort, so, with a cup of tea
sitting on is bedside table and his phone in his hand. The TV played on mute,
the screen flashing around the room, worry running through him that it would
jolt his boy awake form the comfort against his shoulder.
A bucket was set on the
floor beside Harry’s bedside table, ready to be grabbed if Asher was in need of
it, with a bottle of water and a couple of dry biscuits to suffice the empty
feeling in his tiny belly.
All Harry could hear
around the quiet room was soft snoring and the gentle bubble of Asher’s
stomach, heavy breathing escaping between his parted lips and fanning over
Harry’s bare skin momentarily.
Still want me to have Asher tonight? Ni.
A sigh left Harry’s mouth
when he was swiftly reminded of what was meant to be happening that night, in
less than 12-hours time.
He’d organised a date
with you and booked a table in one of the nicest restaurants in Manchester, a
sweet dinner date after a short taxi ride into the middle of Manchester.
He had it all planned out
perfectly in his mind.
He’d grab a taxi from the
house, diverting them instantly to your apartment complex where he would climb
out and jog up the stairs to give himself more time to think about what he was
going to say when he came face to face with you. He’d give you a kiss as soon
as you opened the door and he’d tell you how happy he is to see you again,
before he’d take you down to the taxi waiting out front, helping you climb in
as he followed in suit, seating himself beside you as the taxi took off towards
the centre of Manchester. And on the way and as the scenery changed from the
sweet tree-lined roads to the motorway, he’d explain just what he had in store
for the rest of the night; any bottle of wine you fancied, a romantic dinner
and a nice walk through the main parks and streets before calling a taxi at the
end of the night.
But he had to put all of
that on hold, hoping that you would understand this his son was his top
priority in a time like this.
I’m taking a rain check on tonight, bud. Asher’s fell
sick through the night so I’m going to look after him till he feels better.
Thanks for agreeing to look after him though. I know he was looking forward to
seeing his Uncle Niall. H.
I can still look after him, buddy. I don’t mind.
No, it’s fine. I want to be here to look after him. I
always am when he’s sick.
Alright. If you’re sure.
Harry smiled softly,
setting his phone upon his chest as Asher roused from his short nap, a sour
look on his face as he sat upright and looked towards the TV.
He was definitely sure.
“What’s the matter? Are
you alright?” Harry wondered, sitting up himself, one hand cupping the back of
Asher’s head as the other hung low in case he needed to grab the bucket set by
his bed, “do you want some water?”
“Gon’a be sick again,
daddy,” he whispered raspily.
“Alright, alright,” Harry
panicked, his hand reaching for the handle of the bucket as he puled it up from
the carpet, setting it upon the mattress as Asher thrust his head into the rim.
The sound of his retching making Harry’s ears perk up and his hand to
absentmindly rub up and down his small back. His fingers brushing up and down
softly to coax the nauseous feeling from in his body, “it’s alright. Get it
out, bugger. You’ll feel so much better.”
“Don’t like being this
sick, daddy,” Asher spoke, his words coming out brokenly and raspily, his throat
sore from the retching and burning from the acid rising from his stomach, “it
hurts my throat.”
As Harry reached behind
him, he grabbed the bottle of water set upon the bedside table, carefully
watching out for the cup of tea sitting on a coaster blocking the warmth from
creating a circle on the wood. Unscrewing the cap, and dropping it to the bed,
he handed his son the bottle, watching as he brought the rim to his lips.
“I’ve got some biscuits
for you to eat,” he smiled, “you feeling up to eating a little bit?”
He earned a shake of his
head in response, his hand thrusting forward and the water bottle being pushed
back into his hand.
“Can we watch Spongebob?”
“S’not on yet, bugger. It’s
only 7,” Harry chuckled, screwing on the blue cap and setting it back on the
bedside table, “I’m gon’a pop downstairs and make some dry toast for you to
nibble on and call up the school. Will you be okay up here for a bit?”
“Yes,” Asher smiled,
falling back against the bed, letting the pillow engulf his head and messing up
the curls at the back of his head, “gon’a go back to sleep, daddy.”
Can we take a rain check on our date tonight? H. x
What’s happened? Are you okay? x
I’m okay, I’m fine. x
It’s Asher. He took a bad turn
last night and he’s been sick all morning so I need to make sure he’s okay and
I just want to be here to look after him. x
Oh, Harry. That’s more than okay. We can do that. x
Really? Are you sure? x
Your son is so much more important, Harry. We can make
another date arrangement or meet up for coffee or maybe you could come round to
my apartment or I could come to you. It’s okay. x
I’d quite like to make you a nice home-cooked meal? x
You can definitely do that for me, of course. x
I’ll give you a ring when he’s asleep and we can
organise a proper night in together. Niall’s been itching to look after Asher
for a while – in fact, I think his girlfriend wants to see him more than Niall.
They absolutely adore him. x
He’s my best mate. Has been from the moment we met,
haha. He’s Asher’s godfather. x
Aww. We can definitely organise a date so he can look
after Asher. And it gives me an opportunity to see you again. x
I might just surprise you on the day and leave you
I’ll turn up on the day, on your doorstep, with a grin
and a blindfold to kidnap you. x
Harry, no. x
C’mon. Just like teenagers. I’ll come and pick you up,
kiss you on the doorstep, take you back to my house and we’ll have a sweet
little dinner cooked by me. x
As long as you make that delicious pasta you made on
our last date. x
I can definitely do that. x
Do you think it’s time you introduce me to Asher? I’m
not pressuring you or anything, I’m just, I was speaking to my mum and she said
something about it and I don’t know whether to prepare myself for that big
I was going to talk to you about that on our date,
Yeah, haha. x
I thought, since things were going so well between us,
I was going to do things properly. x
Properly? What do you mean by that? x
I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend tonight
after we’d eaten dinner, and, then when we got to your house, I was going to
jump into maybe introducing you to Asher as my girlfriend – he already knows
who you are, and he speaks about you at home. x
He does? x
He still hasn’t let down the talk about you popping
into the bakery for cake and coffee with him. x
You’ll have to let me know the best time. x
When he’s back to health, I’ll be able to keep you
updated and we can plan. x
That sounds wonderful. x
Keep me updated through the day. And, if you need
anything, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? x
Thank you. xx
The sun had set by 8 that
evening, engulfing the bedroom into darkness with the only light seen being the
flickering of the TV as it played the ITV News, informing the nation of the top
stories sitting on the papers. Asher was snoring against Harry’s chest, tucked
under one of his arms as he slept, a sigh leaving Harry’s mouth as he rolled
his head back against the headboard and closed his own eyes.
It ad been a hectic day
for him; but there was nothing he wouldn’t do to help out his son.
He’d bathed him from the
sweat building up on his body, sliding into the water himself to hold the
weakened little boy to his chest, a delightful bond they’d always had from the
moment it had just been the two of them. Asher’s head set against his father’s
shoulder as Harry dribbled warm water down his skin, scrubbing as gently as he
could to not disrupt him from his state of drowsiness. The strong smell of mint
from Harry’s shower gel bottle lingering in the bathroom, steam filling the
room and fogging up the mirror upon the vanity.
Harry dressed him in his
own fresh pyjamas that smelt strong of lavender and washing detergent, soft and
smooth against his clean skin. Settling him back in his large bed, wrapped in a
blanket with the smell of nothing but his mother; a blanket that belonged to
her through her childhood, one that had been through so much in a lifetime, and
was now ready to be included in many more memories of her grandchild.
Harry feed him spoonfuls
of tomato soup for lunch and for tea, munching on his own food as he spoke with
Asher about anything that would take his mind away from the nauseating feeling
in his belly. He made him more dry toast when he got hungry and made trips
downstairs to get biscuits and bottles of water, giving in to his puppy dog
eyes when he wanted to watch something other than Jeremy Kyle or a rerun of a
football game that was playing on TV.
He cherished moments like
that, where his son depended on him more than ever. Because Harry knew that as
he grew up and became his own independent person, he wouldn’t need Harry as
much as he did when he was a tiny little soul. He’d have his own friends to
talk too, he’d have girlfriends to confide in and use as a shoulder to cry on,
and, he’d be old enough to talk to counsellors when he had problems that he
felt burdened his family.
“Thank you f’ lookin’ after
me, daddy,” Asher whispered in a soft voice, tired words coming from a mouth that
soon yawned, “you made me feel better.”
“I did, huh?” Harry
chuckled, his chest vibrating and making it known to Asher that he was amused
by his tiny statement, “do you feel so much better to go back to school
What Harry expected was a
shake of the small boy’s head – and he was right.
“Not really,” Asher
mumbled, his finger drawing over the left swallow tattoo upon his clavicle, “still
feelin’ a bit sick.”
“I called in school and
told them you’re having the rest of the week off, alright? 3 days at home until
you go back on Monday,” Harry explained, his palm rubbing up and down his body,
“plus the weekend.”
A smile lifted up Asher’s
“I love you, daddy.”
“I love you too, bugger.
I love you so much.”
Is everything okay? x
I haven’t heard from you since this morning. x
I’m okay, yeah. x
How’s the little man doing? x
He’s sleeping now. I got him to eat some soup and some dry toast. He managed to keep it down for a while before he was sick again. x
Ah, bless him. x
Is it the dreaded tummy bug going around? x
I think so, yeah. x
A few of the kids from his school had been sick, taking a couple of days off, so I think he’s caught it somehow. x
Oh, bless him. x
It’s never fun, the poor lad. x
A few of the workers at the restaurant came down with the flu, so, I’m just praying I don’t get it. Hahaha. x
If you get it, I’ll come and look after you. x
Well, you’re a sweetheart, Styles. x
I’ll let you get some proper rest. I bet you’re exhausted after today. x
I’m alright. Just, glad he’s asleep. It’s like he’s a baby all over again. x
Aw, bless him. x
Curled like he used to do when he was a little boy. x
That sounds so adorable, Harry. x
I’ll let you have some time with him. He needs his daddy. x
Zquad, Zayn Malik, Perrie Edwards, and Louis Tomlinson confession
People who actually defend that douchebag Zayn make me sick. He cheated on Perrie multiple times, waits till she’s in another country to break up with her via text, made her homeless so she had to move into the guest cottage of one of the owners of Modest!, and then shades her trying to make her seem like the bad person. And then all this shit with 1D. He lies about why he’s leaving tour, leaves the band via Facebook message, constantly shades and talks about how much he hated the band, starts shit online with Louis, and now trying to get sympathy with this “I thought Louis would never stop being my best friend. I was wrong” bullshit. He’s pathetic and I’m so glad Perrie is exposing his ass.
She didn’t move, but he didn’t bother arguing further. She could be extremely stubborn at times and the whole thing would most certainly turn into a fight that he wasn’t in the mood for. Joker cursed under his breath, looking for a first aid kid. With their constant battlefield they went through them like candy. For a moment he completely let Scarlett out of his sight. When he finally found the damn aid kid on one of the lowest shelves and looked up, she stood on the other side of the bar, her pale bruised fingers clenching a razor blade, wicked grin playing on her lips. “You better put that thing down or I’m gonna take it and shove it right up your ass.” “No.” “Put it down.” She shook her head and taking a step back pressed the razor against her arm, sharp blade digging dip into the skin. All of her was in that sudden reckless gesture. Other women would get upset, angry, worried, hysterical, but not Scarlett. He refused her compassion so she found a way to show it without his approval. The blood was dripping on the floor in big crimson droplets now. She grinned madly, throwing the razor away and focusing her attention on him once again. “What the hell?” “You are hurt. So I’m gonna be hurt too.” Scarlett batted her lashes and shrugged as if she was talking about sharing breakfast. “Never do that again.” - He hissed, as he took a few steps towards her and roughly grabbed her by the arm, pressing his fingers to the wound - “Never. Fucking. Do it.” She winced in pain, but managed to hold back her tears. She didn’t care that he was angry. Was he really? He tried to shake that thought out of his mind. Stupid goddamn kid. That what she was. Stupid stubborn fucking kid. He pulled her closer, pressing her into his chest. He hated her in moments like this. She was making him mad. She was making him alive. She was his weakness, his worst habit, his favorite habit…
You wanted nothing more than to tell him how you feel. Your feelings have greatly increased over the last year though you’ve only known him for two. Harry was the epitome of your dream man, too bad he didn’t feel the same, or so you thought. It was going to take more than a glass of wine for you to tell him how you feel, you were going to need some liquid courage.
You had decided to join the boys for a night out before their reunion tour. You knew this was your last chance to tell H how you really felt. You took two shots of tequila and decided to sip on a cosmopolitan. You figured it was now or never. “Harry, do you think we could go talk?” You asked him
“Uhh sure, is everything okay?” He asks quizzically
You two make your way outside away from all the noise and find a private bench behind the club.
“Sooo… ireallyreallylikeyouandimafraidyoudontlikemebackbutineededtotellyoubeforeyouwentontour.” You ramble off
“Okay, y/n.. slow down.” He says with quirked eyebrow
“H, I really really like you and I’m afraid you don’t like me back but I needed to tell you before you went on tour.” I say slower
“Ya know, I wish you would have told me sooner because we could have been together for longer. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve known you, I’ve just been afraid to say anything. I don’t handle rejection well.” He explains
I let out a long sigh of relief.
“Well at least we know now.” I say softly
“Thats true, love!” He says caressing my hand softly.
I intertwine our hands and rub my thumb against the back of his large hand.
He gives my hand a tight reassuring squeeze.
“So y/n, now that I know our feelings are mutual, will you go out with me?” He asks seriously
“H, how am I supposed to go out with you if you’re leaving in two days time?” I ask sadly
“Tomorrow. Go on a date with me tomorrow?” He asks frantically
You two make your way back into the club, attached at the hip. There’s no way he’s letting you out of his sight somewhere this full of pricks. You make your way to the dance floor as Lollipop by Lil Wayne comes on.
You immediately decide that what’s to come might scare the shit out of Harry. You begin to belt the lyrics. “Shawty wanna’ thug, bottles in the club
Shawty wanna’ hump, you know I’d like to touch ya lovely lady lumps”
Harry lets out a long laugh.
“What’s going on with you?” He asks
“Liquid courage.” You reply
He chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist as you continue to sing your little heart out.
The other lads come and find harry and you about 45 minutes later saying they want to go. You agree and pile into an uber. The uber takes Niall home first, Liam helps him inside, then Louis is taken home, followed by Liam.
“Be safe you two.” Liam says as he hops out of the uber
“Shove it Payno!” You say with flushed cheeks.
Harry rubs your back, “ignore him love.” He says
You shut the door behind Liam.
“Wanna stay at mine tonight?” You ask Harry
“Only if you’ll have me!” He replies
“Course I will, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” You smile
The uber drives to your small flat in north London, taking about 15 minutes from Liam’s giant ass mansion.
You drag your drunken bodies inside and into your ensuite to remove your makeup and brush your teeth. Once finished with your mundane tasks you decide to change into your pajamas, problem is you need help out of your black dress.
“Harold, can you unzip me please?” You ask him
“Sure I can.” He says before unzipping your dress with shaky hands
You grab an oversized Packers t shirt and some spandex to sleep in before making your way to the bathroom to change. You unhook your bra and slide the shirt over your curvy body. Once you have the shirt on you realize that it covers enough of you so that you don’t need spandex.
You walk out of the bathroom to see harry folding his clothes to set aside for morning. His tattoo covered body is yours to gawk at.
He smiles at you, and you smile back.
“Dibs on the left side of the bed.” You say before pulling the covers back. You both crawl into bed.
“Dibs on being the little spoon!” He says
You chuckle before wrapping your arms around his body.
You both doze off quickly. When you wake up in the morning you’re in bed alone. You can smell banana pancakes and coffee in the kitchen which is just what sounds good being hungover
You make your way to the kitchen as see harry in his boxers cooking away.
“Hey, Mr.” you say
“Good mornin’ love,” he replies
He pours you a cup of black coffee and sets 3 pancakes in front of you.
“H, what are we doing for our date today?” You ask
“I thought we could go to my place and have a little picnic in the garden and then watch a film with some wine, how does that sound?” He asks nervously
“That sounds absolutely lovely, Harry!”
“Good! I figure I can go make up some food at my place and you can come over when you’ve finished getting ready!” He says
You nod your head with a mouth full of pancakes. “These are so good!”
Shortly after the two of you had finished eating breakfast an uber arrived for Harry.
“Alright love, I’m heading out!” He says before kissing your cheek and running to catch the uber.
You let out a soft sigh, thinking to yourself that it couldn’t have gone any better!
You decide to take a bath and then get ready, you throw in a bath bomb and enjoy the water for 30 minutes before slipping out wrinkly as a raisin. You decide to wear something extremely casual, consisting of a long sleeve thermal with a red and blue flannel around your waist. You throw on some Saint Laurent booties and decide to straighten your hair before doing your makeup. You settle on a little bit of eyeshadow and some chapstick hoping harry will maybe kiss you. It’s been about 4 hours since harry has left, you’ve gotten ready, cleaned the house and brushed your teeth. You decide now is as good of time as any so you hop on your Mercedes SUV and drive towards Harry’s mansion in primrose hill. Once you’ve arrive you type in his code and park in his horseshoe shaped driveway. You knock on his door three times before he answers. “Holy shit,” you say when he opens the door. He’s dressed in a patterned Saint Laurent shirt, Paige jeans, and Saint Laurent booties that match yours perfectly. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” you say aloud before stepping inside.
“You’re not too shabby yourself, y/n,” harry says
He smiles at you.
“So I have a blanket and picnic basket ready to go outside,” harry says
You grab the blanket, he grabs the basket and you make your way outside. You settle on a spot just beneath a Cherry Blossom tree. You late the checkered blanket out on the lawn and sit down, Harry sitting next to you. He opens the basket and empties the contents, baguette, cheese, turkey, grapes, strawberries, brownies, and wine.
You help slice the baguette and make a sandwich for each of you. You begin eating and conversing about life.
“Are you excited to leave for tour?” You ask him
“Excited to be on the road, not excited to leave you.”
“Well, you’re not leaving me, you’re just going to work! I could always come see you or something. FaceTime, phone calls, texting. It’ll all be fine.”
He nods in agreement
“Would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?” He asks shyly with his head down.
You tip his head up so he’s looking you in the eyes, “of course I will, H!” You say with a wide smile
He crushes you in a hug and kisses the top of your head
“Missed what,” he asks
“My lips, harry!”
He presses a kiss to your lips
Disclaimer: this is so shit. It’s nearly 2:30 in the morning but I’ve been working on this for like two days and I couldn’t make it any better. Enjoy the gif of Harry’s feet!!