harrieatthemet

[harrieatthemet]

It has been 3 months and I still haven’t stopped thinking about the sneak peak. I hope you’re doing well and if you’re still open to posting the full story, I know I would love to read it.

Wait I love you 🥹 I’ve been playing around with it just in my drafts but maybe when i clean up the chapters i can share some more

[harrieatthemet]

I come back to read “Other Mama” every few and I get hurt every time 🤣 love your work!!!

You’re always welcome here bub! Thank you ❤️

[harrieatthemet]

Not this FLOPPING

A Sneak Peek

She doesn't have a title yet and this is a (smallish?) excerpt from ch. 1.... but I wanted you all to meet Anna. If you like, there's plenty more to come (:

“Wait what do you mean,” Isabelle shakes her head in bewilderment, “your stuff is… packed? As in, like, you’re leaving permanently?” 

“Originally yes, that was my plan.” Anna huffs, forcing herself to sit upright and take the phone with her, “I wanted to be out before he got back but this… I don’t know, like, it fucking changes things.”

Isabelle’s state of disorientation only intensifies as she shakes her head again. Anna can tell that she’s been caught off guard by her abrupt definitiveness. She lets it roll off her tongue so easily, without being distraught or reactive. The flat, deadpan tone of Anna’s voice is still holding strong. She’d delivered the news to Isabelle as if she’d already known, that somehow this was not completely blindsiding information that felt pulled right out of thin air. It’s only throwing off Isabelle even more.

“Anna what is going on?” Isabelle asks, tone soft and hinted with apology, “I knew you guys were fighting more, I guess, but not like this. It’s been that bad?”

“Uh yeah,” Anna states irritatedly, “I wouldn’t be frantically packing up my shit to try and avoid seeing him if it wasn’t.” 

Isabelle doesn’t take the hostility coming from the other end of the line personally. There’s a nagging feeling of remorseful guilt, though it’s fleeting, that tugs a bit on Anna. It’s not fair to snap at her like that, and it certainly wasn’t intentional. She’s not covertly trying to unpack her big feelings onto her sister, who’s trying to upkeep support however she can given how little she’s been told the past few months. There’s so much swirling in her brain, she feels like a headache is beginning to loom. Isabelle was just temporary collateral damage. 

“Totally understand why you’ve been laying on the floor for half an hour.” Isabelle digresses, “Was it the phone call? Was it really that bad?”

Anna realizes that the amount of information Isabelle is currently privy to is even more limited than what she initially anticipated. She hadn’t realized that, to save face and protect her relationship from outside scrutiny, she had deep-swallowed the animosity that had been plaguing her day-to-day the past couple of months. 

They’d been together well over 3 years and, by that point, nothing struck either of them as out of the ordinary. Bickering was normal, mauve even a bit healthy when tame. It never escalated to anything outside the realm of reconciliation. If it threatened to go that far, one of them always managed to sort it out beforehand. It just started to occur a little more frequently, here and there. Until it became nearly constant.

Before the phone call, there was the argument that paved the way for copious amounts of phone calls. The pretenses were the same as they’d been in the past; one of them neglecting the other, prioritizing their career more or entertaining longer nights out. She’d said he traveled too much during his time off, and his rebuttal was that she didn’t make more of an effort to travel with him as she should. 

This time in particular, though, neither of them took their foot off the gas. The yelling got louder, her tears came quicker, and he iced her out a little bit longer. Every reaction was visceral and borderline cutthroat, one of them trying to make the other feel worse and worse. It became tit for tat, and she had hurled something at him that cut so deep that, surely, it had permanently offset a dynamic in their relationship that hadn’t managed to bounce back from. 

“It was more than that one phone call,” Anna exhales, her lip between her teeth, “but yeah. Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

A very forced, unpleasantly awkward truce had been agreed upon in the wake of their blowout argument. There was an amicable alignment on their differences, one that was sealed with a prolonged hug and an unsure peck on the lips. Anna knew right off the bat how badly it lacked any sign of genuinity, and she has to imagine Harry did as well. But his bag was already in the car and the plane was waiting. He never liked to leave the country if they weren’t on good terms, even if it was faked for the sake of their sound of mind. 

And, despite their best efforts to upkeep the phoney reconciliation, Harry’s departure for Japan only seemed to throw kerosene onto the fire. It had, quite literally, been three and a half weeks of absolute hell. The phone calls started nightly and, while it was a sign of good faith, felt mildly uncomfortable. She didn’t trust him and he could feel it, so neither ever knew what to say without it somehow leading to an argument. It’d start as an insult in passing, which cascaded into arguing, which ultimately ended in one of them hanging up the phone and Anna consumed by inconsolable tears. 

So then the phone calls started to come in every other night. Which, eventually, became 2 times a week. Sometimes 3, though that was painfully short lived. When his contact in her phone became a one-night-a-week occurrence, she had involuntarily found herself in a state of dread. And if she was dreading his call, she had to imagine he dreaded having to make it.

It was the big one four days ago that brought an altogether halt to the calls completely. Harry had taken the subtle accusations of being unfaithful on the chin beforehand. Though it lit a touch of rage in the pit of his belly, he refused to let himself play into that hand. But that night, Anna had been glued to her phone with a hollowness in her chest and a welt in her throat. While she had blacked out for the bulk of that argument, the shrillness of Harry’s booming shout through the phone was one of the only lasting recollections. 

She can remember the photos beforehand that had gotten the ball rolling, the same premise of the fights that lead up to the final one. All she remembers were the pictures of the model, the same one he’d said he hardly knew, walking beside him as if they knew every inch of each other inside and out. Sickeningly beautiful, dragging out insecurities Anna didn’t even know she had. The longer she stared at them, the more she could feel her skin starting to swelter and her stomach start to churn. Her vision went periodically hazy until his name appeared on her phone, replacing the photo she was previously honed in on. And while she couldn’t quite recount what transpired once she picked up, she knew nothing that ensued was good. Because that was now 4 days ago, and she hasn’t heard from him since. 

“I know things are weird between you guys right now,” Isabelle responds hesitantly, “but you gotta tell him about this.” 

“I know that,” Anna answers unconvincingly, “I will.” 

“This is insane,” Isabelle exhales in disbelief, “what’re you gonna say? Like, how are you gonna tell him?” 

“I’ve got maybe an hour to figure it out,” Anna groans exasperatedly, “and then I’ll just-” 

Almost immediately, her focus is stripped from the conversation at the faint sound that emits from a distance. She could kick herself for not attempting to make more of an effort to hear it the first time, because she can’t tell if her mind is just tripping her out or if she had actually heard the side door being slammed shut. People come in and out all the time, and she was almost positive she had at least another hour left. 

Instinctively, the pad of her thumb flies to the volume button on the side of the phone. The house is big, and the likelihood of anyone on the first floor hearing her whilst being barricaded in the master bath is slim, but it couldn’t hurt to take the extra precaution. The speaker is muffled against the bulky fabric of Anna’s sweatshirt, though she can still faintly make out the inquisitive shouts coming from Isabelle. She needs whatever silence she can scrounge together to determine who the distant noise on the first floor belonged to.

A few more clicks of shoes concur, promptly coinciding with a vague jingling of keys. She knows that if she got up off the floor and re-entered the bedroom, she’d have a better chance at hearing more clearly. But the sink hasn’t moved, and neither has all the things that are sitting atop it, so she doesn’t want to reintroduce herself to that yet. 

It’s when the distinct clearing of the throat ensues, followed by the sound of bags hitting the floor and mindless humming, that the presence on the floor just beneath her claims it’s rightful owner. It’s about an hour earlier than she was told to expect him, not that it matters. She was clear on the phone that she’d be busy upon his return; out of the house and out of his hair, as that’s how he seemed to want it last they spoke. 

But instead she’s sitting on their bathroom floor. She’d planned to be out with enough time between his return. That way seemed easier. He’d realize, coming upstairs to unpack his things, that her side of the dresser was bare and her corner of the closet was emptied. All her trinkets in the bathroom had rescinded and, essentially, whatever trace of her that rang through the house had completely ceased to exist. Due to poor planning and a bit of an unforeseen wrench thrown in halfway through, that was not the case. Now she was just trying to avoid the bouquet of positive pregnancy tests lined up on the sink basin above her head. 

[harrieatthemet]

A Sneak Peek

She doesn't have a title yet and this is a (smallish?) excerpt from ch. 1.... but I wanted you all to meet Anna. If you like, there's plenty more to come (:

“Wait what do you mean,” Isabelle shakes her head in bewilderment, “your stuff is… packed? As in, like, you’re leaving permanently?” 

“Originally yes, that was my plan.” Anna huffs, forcing herself to sit upright and take the phone with her, “I wanted to be out before he got back but this… I don’t know, like, it fucking changes things.”

Isabelle’s state of disorientation only intensifies as she shakes her head again. Anna can tell that she’s been caught off guard by her abrupt definitiveness. She lets it roll off her tongue so easily, without being distraught or reactive. The flat, deadpan tone of Anna’s voice is still holding strong. She’d delivered the news to Isabelle as if she’d already known, that somehow this was not completely blindsiding information that felt pulled right out of thin air. It’s only throwing off Isabelle even more.

“Anna what is going on?” Isabelle asks, tone soft and hinted with apology, “I knew you guys were fighting more, I guess, but not like this. It’s been that bad?”

“Uh yeah,” Anna states irritatedly, “I wouldn’t be frantically packing up my shit to try and avoid seeing him if it wasn’t.” 

Isabelle doesn’t take the hostility coming from the other end of the line personally. There’s a nagging feeling of remorseful guilt, though it’s fleeting, that tugs a bit on Anna. It’s not fair to snap at her like that, and it certainly wasn’t intentional. She’s not covertly trying to unpack her big feelings onto her sister, who’s trying to upkeep support however she can given how little she’s been told the past few months. There’s so much swirling in her brain, she feels like a headache is beginning to loom. Isabelle was just temporary collateral damage. 

“Totally understand why you’ve been laying on the floor for half an hour.” Isabelle digresses, “Was it the phone call? Was it really that bad?”

Anna realizes that the amount of information Isabelle is currently privy to is even more limited than what she initially anticipated. She hadn’t realized that, to save face and protect her relationship from outside scrutiny, she had deep-swallowed the animosity that had been plaguing her day-to-day the past couple of months. 

They’d been together well over 3 years and, by that point, nothing struck either of them as out of the ordinary. Bickering was normal, mauve even a bit healthy when tame. It never escalated to anything outside the realm of reconciliation. If it threatened to go that far, one of them always managed to sort it out beforehand. It just started to occur a little more frequently, here and there. Until it became nearly constant.

Before the phone call, there was the argument that paved the way for copious amounts of phone calls. The pretenses were the same as they’d been in the past; one of them neglecting the other, prioritizing their career more or entertaining longer nights out. She’d said he traveled too much during his time off, and his rebuttal was that she didn’t make more of an effort to travel with him as she should. 

This time in particular, though, neither of them took their foot off the gas. The yelling got louder, her tears came quicker, and he iced her out a little bit longer. Every reaction was visceral and borderline cutthroat, one of them trying to make the other feel worse and worse. It became tit for tat, and she had hurled something at him that cut so deep that, surely, it had permanently offset a dynamic in their relationship that hadn’t managed to bounce back from. 

“It was more than that one phone call,” Anna exhales, her lip between her teeth, “but yeah. Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

A very forced, unpleasantly awkward truce had been agreed upon in the wake of their blowout argument. There was an amicable alignment on their differences, one that was sealed with a prolonged hug and an unsure peck on the lips. Anna knew right off the bat how badly it lacked any sign of genuinity, and she has to imagine Harry did as well. But his bag was already in the car and the plane was waiting. He never liked to leave the country if they weren’t on good terms, even if it was faked for the sake of their sound of mind. 

And, despite their best efforts to upkeep the phoney reconciliation, Harry’s departure for Japan only seemed to throw kerosene onto the fire. It had, quite literally, been three and a half weeks of absolute hell. The phone calls started nightly and, while it was a sign of good faith, felt mildly uncomfortable. She didn’t trust him and he could feel it, so neither ever knew what to say without it somehow leading to an argument. It’d start as an insult in passing, which cascaded into arguing, which ultimately ended in one of them hanging up the phone and Anna consumed by inconsolable tears. 

So then the phone calls started to come in every other night. Which, eventually, became 2 times a week. Sometimes 3, though that was painfully short lived. When his contact in her phone became a one-night-a-week occurrence, she had involuntarily found herself in a state of dread. And if she was dreading his call, she had to imagine he dreaded having to make it.

It was the big one four days ago that brought an altogether halt to the calls completely. Harry had taken the subtle accusations of being unfaithful on the chin beforehand. Though it lit a touch of rage in the pit of his belly, he refused to let himself play into that hand. But that night, Anna had been glued to her phone with a hollowness in her chest and a welt in her throat. While she had blacked out for the bulk of that argument, the shrillness of Harry’s booming shout through the phone was one of the only lasting recollections. 

She can remember the photos beforehand that had gotten the ball rolling, the same premise of the fights that lead up to the final one. All she remembers were the pictures of the model, the same one he’d said he hardly knew, walking beside him as if they knew every inch of each other inside and out. Sickeningly beautiful, dragging out insecurities Anna didn’t even know she had. The longer she stared at them, the more she could feel her skin starting to swelter and her stomach start to churn. Her vision went periodically hazy until his name appeared on her phone, replacing the photo she was previously honed in on. And while she couldn’t quite recount what transpired once she picked up, she knew nothing that ensued was good. Because that was now 4 days ago, and she hasn’t heard from him since. 

“I know things are weird between you guys right now,” Isabelle responds hesitantly, “but you gotta tell him about this.” 

“I know that,” Anna answers unconvincingly, “I will.” 

“This is insane,” Isabelle exhales in disbelief, “what’re you gonna say? Like, how are you gonna tell him?” 

“I’ve got maybe an hour to figure it out,” Anna groans exasperatedly, “and then I’ll just-” 

Almost immediately, her focus is stripped from the conversation at the faint sound that emits from a distance. She could kick herself for not attempting to make more of an effort to hear it the first time, because she can’t tell if her mind is just tripping her out or if she had actually heard the side door being slammed shut. People come in and out all the time, and she was almost positive she had at least another hour left. 

Instinctively, the pad of her thumb flies to the volume button on the side of the phone. The house is big, and the likelihood of anyone on the first floor hearing her whilst being barricaded in the master bath is slim, but it couldn’t hurt to take the extra precaution. The speaker is muffled against the bulky fabric of Anna’s sweatshirt, though she can still faintly make out the inquisitive shouts coming from Isabelle. She needs whatever silence she can scrounge together to determine who the distant noise on the first floor belonged to.

A few more clicks of shoes concur, promptly coinciding with a vague jingling of keys. She knows that if she got up off the floor and re-entered the bedroom, she’d have a better chance at hearing more clearly. But the sink hasn’t moved, and neither has all the things that are sitting atop it, so she doesn’t want to reintroduce herself to that yet. 

It’s when the distinct clearing of the throat ensues, followed by the sound of bags hitting the floor and mindless humming, that the presence on the floor just beneath her claims it’s rightful owner. It’s about an hour earlier than she was told to expect him, not that it matters. She was clear on the phone that she’d be busy upon his return; out of the house and out of his hair, as that’s how he seemed to want it last they spoke. 

But instead she’s sitting on their bathroom floor. She’d planned to be out with enough time between his return. That way seemed easier. He’d realize, coming upstairs to unpack his things, that her side of the dresser was bare and her corner of the closet was emptied. All her trinkets in the bathroom had rescinded and, essentially, whatever trace of her that rang through the house had completely ceased to exist. Due to poor planning and a bit of an unforeseen wrench thrown in halfway through, that was not the case. Now she was just trying to avoid the bouquet of positive pregnancy tests lined up on the sink basin above her head. 

[harrieatthemet]

A Sneak Peek

She doesn't have a title yet and this is a (smallish?) excerpt from ch. 1.... but I wanted you all to meet Anna. If you like, there's plenty more to come (:

“Wait what do you mean,” Isabelle shakes her head in bewilderment, “your stuff is… packed? As in, like, you’re leaving permanently?” 

“Originally yes, that was my plan.” Anna huffs, forcing herself to sit upright and take the phone with her, “I wanted to be out before he got back but this… I don’t know, like, it fucking changes things.”

Isabelle’s state of disorientation only intensifies as she shakes her head again. Anna can tell that she’s been caught off guard by her abrupt definitiveness. She lets it roll off her tongue so easily, without being distraught or reactive. The flat, deadpan tone of Anna’s voice is still holding strong. She’d delivered the news to Isabelle as if she’d already known, that somehow this was not completely blindsiding information that felt pulled right out of thin air. It’s only throwing off Isabelle even more.

“Anna what is going on?” Isabelle asks, tone soft and hinted with apology, “I knew you guys were fighting more, I guess, but not like this. It’s been that bad?”

“Uh yeah,” Anna states irritatedly, “I wouldn’t be frantically packing up my shit to try and avoid seeing him if it wasn’t.” 

Isabelle doesn’t take the hostility coming from the other end of the line personally. There’s a nagging feeling of remorseful guilt, though it’s fleeting, that tugs a bit on Anna. It’s not fair to snap at her like that, and it certainly wasn’t intentional. She’s not covertly trying to unpack her big feelings onto her sister, who’s trying to upkeep support however she can given how little she’s been told the past few months. There’s so much swirling in her brain, she feels like a headache is beginning to loom. Isabelle was just temporary collateral damage. 

“Totally understand why you’ve been laying on the floor for half an hour.” Isabelle digresses, “Was it the phone call? Was it really that bad?”

Anna realizes that the amount of information Isabelle is currently privy to is even more limited than what she initially anticipated. She hadn’t realized that, to save face and protect her relationship from outside scrutiny, she had deep-swallowed the animosity that had been plaguing her day-to-day the past couple of months. 

They’d been together well over 3 years and, by that point, nothing struck either of them as out of the ordinary. Bickering was normal, mauve even a bit healthy when tame. It never escalated to anything outside the realm of reconciliation. If it threatened to go that far, one of them always managed to sort it out beforehand. It just started to occur a little more frequently, here and there. Until it became nearly constant.

Before the phone call, there was the argument that paved the way for copious amounts of phone calls. The pretenses were the same as they’d been in the past; one of them neglecting the other, prioritizing their career more or entertaining longer nights out. She’d said he traveled too much during his time off, and his rebuttal was that she didn’t make more of an effort to travel with him as she should. 

This time in particular, though, neither of them took their foot off the gas. The yelling got louder, her tears came quicker, and he iced her out a little bit longer. Every reaction was visceral and borderline cutthroat, one of them trying to make the other feel worse and worse. It became tit for tat, and she had hurled something at him that cut so deep that, surely, it had permanently offset a dynamic in their relationship that hadn’t managed to bounce back from. 

“It was more than that one phone call,” Anna exhales, her lip between her teeth, “but yeah. Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

A very forced, unpleasantly awkward truce had been agreed upon in the wake of their blowout argument. There was an amicable alignment on their differences, one that was sealed with a prolonged hug and an unsure peck on the lips. Anna knew right off the bat how badly it lacked any sign of genuinity, and she has to imagine Harry did as well. But his bag was already in the car and the plane was waiting. He never liked to leave the country if they weren’t on good terms, even if it was faked for the sake of their sound of mind. 

And, despite their best efforts to upkeep the phoney reconciliation, Harry’s departure for Japan only seemed to throw kerosene onto the fire. It had, quite literally, been three and a half weeks of absolute hell. The phone calls started nightly and, while it was a sign of good faith, felt mildly uncomfortable. She didn’t trust him and he could feel it, so neither ever knew what to say without it somehow leading to an argument. It’d start as an insult in passing, which cascaded into arguing, which ultimately ended in one of them hanging up the phone and Anna consumed by inconsolable tears. 

So then the phone calls started to come in every other night. Which, eventually, became 2 times a week. Sometimes 3, though that was painfully short lived. When his contact in her phone became a one-night-a-week occurrence, she had involuntarily found herself in a state of dread. And if she was dreading his call, she had to imagine he dreaded having to make it.

It was the big one four days ago that brought an altogether halt to the calls completely. Harry had taken the subtle accusations of being unfaithful on the chin beforehand. Though it lit a touch of rage in the pit of his belly, he refused to let himself play into that hand. But that night, Anna had been glued to her phone with a hollowness in her chest and a welt in her throat. While she had blacked out for the bulk of that argument, the shrillness of Harry’s booming shout through the phone was one of the only lasting recollections. 

She can remember the photos beforehand that had gotten the ball rolling, the same premise of the fights that lead up to the final one. All she remembers were the pictures of the model, the same one he’d said he hardly knew, walking beside him as if they knew every inch of each other inside and out. Sickeningly beautiful, dragging out insecurities Anna didn’t even know she had. The longer she stared at them, the more she could feel her skin starting to swelter and her stomach start to churn. Her vision went periodically hazy until his name appeared on her phone, replacing the photo she was previously honed in on. And while she couldn’t quite recount what transpired once she picked up, she knew nothing that ensued was good. Because that was now 4 days ago, and she hasn’t heard from him since. 

“I know things are weird between you guys right now,” Isabelle responds hesitantly, “but you gotta tell him about this.” 

“I know that,” Anna answers unconvincingly, “I will.” 

“This is insane,” Isabelle exhales in disbelief, “what’re you gonna say? Like, how are you gonna tell him?” 

“I’ve got maybe an hour to figure it out,” Anna groans exasperatedly, “and then I’ll just-” 

Almost immediately, her focus is stripped from the conversation at the faint sound that emits from a distance. She could kick herself for not attempting to make more of an effort to hear it the first time, because she can’t tell if her mind is just tripping her out or if she had actually heard the side door being slammed shut. People come in and out all the time, and she was almost positive she had at least another hour left. 

Instinctively, the pad of her thumb flies to the volume button on the side of the phone. The house is big, and the likelihood of anyone on the first floor hearing her whilst being barricaded in the master bath is slim, but it couldn’t hurt to take the extra precaution. The speaker is muffled against the bulky fabric of Anna’s sweatshirt, though she can still faintly make out the inquisitive shouts coming from Isabelle. She needs whatever silence she can scrounge together to determine who the distant noise on the first floor belonged to.

A few more clicks of shoes concur, promptly coinciding with a vague jingling of keys. She knows that if she got up off the floor and re-entered the bedroom, she’d have a better chance at hearing more clearly. But the sink hasn’t moved, and neither has all the things that are sitting atop it, so she doesn’t want to reintroduce herself to that yet. 

It’s when the distinct clearing of the throat ensues, followed by the sound of bags hitting the floor and mindless humming, that the presence on the floor just beneath her claims it’s rightful owner. It’s about an hour earlier than she was told to expect him, not that it matters. She was clear on the phone that she’d be busy upon his return; out of the house and out of his hair, as that’s how he seemed to want it last they spoke. 

But instead she’s sitting on their bathroom floor. She’d planned to be out with enough time between his return. That way seemed easier. He’d realize, coming upstairs to unpack his things, that her side of the dresser was bare and her corner of the closet was emptied. All her trinkets in the bathroom had rescinded and, essentially, whatever trace of her that rang through the house had completely ceased to exist. Due to poor planning and a bit of an unforeseen wrench thrown in halfway through, that was not the case. Now she was just trying to avoid the bouquet of positive pregnancy tests lined up on the sink basin above her head. 

[harrieatthemet]

i want it no matter what it is!! but i wouldn’t be opposed to a little sneak peek 👀

Will be posting shortly ☺️

[harrieatthemet]

Can’t wait to read it!! Missed youuuuuu

EEEEEEEE I MISSED YOU MOST!

[harrieatthemet]

I have news.

Ok so I know I come on here and LIE (often) but… a long time ago I started a fic and kinda came back to it every so often. Except the past few months I’ve been super committed to it and it’s.. some of the best I’ve ever written. And it’s almost done so now..

Now I really wanna share it but I guess I’m not sure how to do that? Do people read on here still? Is this more oriented for wattpad? I haven’t shared writing in so long I’m silly nervous 🙈

Anyways it’s almost 200 pages and I can post a sample feeler on her to see if you guys or anyone would want it. Just let me know (:

[harrieatthemet]

A little rumbling I heard was that Liam’s family allowed a few photos via paparazzi in exchange for the upmost privacy (and absolutely no photos) of Bear and Cheryl. Not sure if that’s true, but wanted to pass it along. Everyone be gentle with yourselves and each other today ♥️

[harrieatthemet]

Cynthia what is this I hear….. ur writing again…. 🥹🙏🏼

hi bubba, yes I have :,) it’s been weirdly helping me kind of cope lately

[harrieatthemet]

Just checking in on you bunnies and hoping everyone is doing a bit better these days. I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves (:

[harrieatthemet]

A big FUCK OFF to Simon and his pity post in the wake of Liam’s passing, too.

-

[harrieatthemet]

Eleanor posted something really beautiful ❤️‍🩹

gosh... him painting her and her dogs for her home. how absolutely sweet.

[harrieatthemet]

Oh mumma ❤️‍🩹 I'm praying for you and your little boy so hard rn....

[harrieatthemet]

One Direction songs that Liam wrote on:

AM

Back for you

Better than words

Change your ticket

Clouds

Diana

Does he know

End of the day

Everything about you

Fireproof

Fool's Gold

History

Home

Illusion

Irresistible

Last first kiss

Little black dress

Little White lies

Long way down

Midnight memories

Night changes

No control

Ready to run

Right now

Same mistakes

Spaces

Steal My girl

Still the One

Story of My Life

Summer Love

Taken

Through The dark

What a feeling

Wolves

forever apart of the story of my life, rest in peace liam

[harrieatthemet]

Anyone stop crying yet? Asking for a friend

[harrieatthemet]

Paul going to Argentina with Liam’s dad despite not working for any of the boys in years 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔