stellarboystyles

[stellarboystyles]

Chapter Two

a/n: anotha 1 <3

word count: 3.5k (i think??)

“Violet.” When his sight locks with hers again, he gives her a slow blink and a curve of his lips ever so slightly, but enough to stir something inside her. “S’a pretty name.”

She thanks him as her stomach does a little backflip at the sound of his rough voice speaking her name.

“So, how long have you lived in Vegas?”

The hint of patronization in his voice is so subtle she almost misses it. That's when she notices the look in his eye. He’s careful not to go overboard and offend her, but it’s just enough to reel her in. He’s teasing her.

“I moved here freshman year of college.”

“Ahh, gotcha.” he nods. "Where'd you move from?"

“Texas.” she rolls her eyes playfully. "Haven't been back since."

“Awh, c’mon. I bet you were a smoke show to all them country boys.”

His change in accent makes her giggle. “You would think.”

The essence of confidence on her was something he hadn't seen in a girl before, and he says that with full certainty. It wasn't laid on thick with cockiness, but she wasn't insecure either. She's hot and knows it.

“Follow up question.” he adds, after taking another sip. “How did a small town spit out something like you?”

He’s eyeing her like a hawk. Everything about her is so magnetic. She gives him a slow blink, flicking out her tongue to take a sip from her straw. 

“I guess I’m just built different.”

Fuck.

Harry casually tilts his head to see the girls’ friends, still standing a few feet away. Probably waiting on them to come and join them. No offense to the other girls, but Harry would rather take a bullet to the shoulder than subject himself to some shameless flirting. He’s not assuming they’re the type to blatantly attempt to seduce a guy away when he’s clearly shown interest in their friend and not them, but it’s Las Vegas. People suck in any big city, and there’s no shortage of brazen girls shamelessly flirting with a guy out of their league, even if their friend already has her eyes on him.

However, his hand brushes her lower back just in case the message isn’t clear.

“Have fun without me.” she tells them. “Just put everything on my tab.”

He takes note of how pretty she is when she shifts her focus back to him and he briefly imagines how much prettier she’d look with her lips around his co—

“I like your tattoos.” 

Harry nods in acknowledgement mid-sip, putting down his glass. “Thank you, I like yours.” 

She has a cherub on her left upper arm and two leopards facing each other on her sternum that he can see. Something about her energy was incredibly sexy. It felt like a magnet was drawing him in closer and closer. Normally he’s the one that had that effect on others. The combination of her dark hair, tanned skin and random tattoos that went together perfectly; but it wasn’t just that. She had an aura about her that Harry couldn’t quite explain. 

“I have a feeling you’re from Vegas?”

She nods. “Kind of. I moved here freshman year of high school.” Violet inches closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder. It’s a nervous habit, but it lets Harry get a whiff of her perfume that only sets his desire further into the point of no return. 

“Yeah, seems like you’d fit right in with all the call girls in Vegas.”

She exaggerates a look of bitch, you better be joking until he starts laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you.”

“You’re an asshole.” she laughs while giving him a playful shove.

“Ow, don’t hurt me!” he giggles, shying away from the punch she tries to deliver. “She’s abusive.”

The sudden movement she gives triggers a signal that her brain is starting to move slower, thanks to the alcohol. 

“Shut up.” she snickers, moving her hair out of her face nonchalantly. 

“So, what do you do?”

This girl doesn’t really look like a barista. Sure, she seems chill and laid back, but that just isn’t her vibe.

Influencer? Probably not. Sure, this girl is definitely used to being the center of attention—not to mention drop dead gorgeous. But she seems too down to earth to tolerate the world of plastic and fake friendships.

“I run a business on the strip.” 

Harry is...pleasantly surprised by her answer. 

“That’s interesting.” He acknowledges. “What is it?”

"The Alchemy."

“Oh, yeah.” he recognizes the name. "I've been there before, s'fancy."

“Stop.” she tries not to laugh at his smirk, playfully rolling her eyes. “S'just a bar.”

“She’s being modest.” her friend Josie joins in, and Violet jumps not knowing they were even behind her. She and her other friend Aly walking past them to grab one of the bottles on the counter behind them. "It's a vodka lounge."

“Yeah, she's lowkey loaded—”

“Can you not?!” Violet scolds her friends, to which they surrender.

“Fine! We’re leaving, don’t kill us!”

“Don’t worry, she’s not usually like this.” Shay offers sarcastically. “She’s just a mean drunk.”

“Goodbye!?” Violet’s eyes widen in embarrassment before rolling her eyes. “I’m so sorry, They’re the worst.”

“Eh, I don’t know.” Harry shrugs with a laugh. “They seem like pretty good wingmen to me.”

“Far from it, they live to torture me.”

“Want another, sweetheart?” 

Both of them look to the bartender at the sound of her voice and Harry eyes Violet and she looks at Harry for confirmation, since she’s on his tab. 

He nods. “She’ll have another.” 

She gives a fake gasp. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” 

He rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in feigned defeat. “Ah, you caught me.”

The warmth in his voice was something magical. It wasn’t creepy or too nice. The perfect amount of smooth and sexy.

“Are you downtown a lot?”

“Ah, some.” he shrugs. “Been at the bars on weekends with my buddies, mostly.” he shrugs, taking a swig from his cup. “Do you know Ty?”

“Yeah..." she laughs. "I just hired him as a bartender.”

Violet walks over to the other side of the room, reaching under the lampshade. She was trying her hardest not to seem drunk, keeping it in the back of her mind not to trip over her own feet as she twists the switch.

“Yeah, we've known each other for years.” he acknowledges. “He's a good friend.”

Violet’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re friends with Ty?”

He nods.

“That’s so funny.” she smiles. “Small world.”

"Violet’s too tipsy to notice, but Harry’s stopped drinking the liquor that she poured for him.

He raises an eyebrow, because she doesn’t seem like the type to be insecure. This girl has THE most banging body he’s ever seen and the face card to go with it, so for her to come off as anything but confident was sort of a joke to him.

“Don’t worry, he'll be great." he nods. "I’ll tell him you’re a good girl.”

Heartbeat racing. Mind buzzing. You know what throbbing.

This is the first time in a long ass time that Violet’s been truly speechless. Like, jaw on the floor, head empty speechless. His dark hair, light eyes combo burned into her, refusing to break eye contact.

When she opened her mouth to speak, as if on fucking cue, her friends pop back into the vicinity again.

“V, Shay needs you.”

Violet’s eyes gave Josie an obvious are you actually cockblocking me right now, look. “Did someone die?”

“She has some vodka soaked ta—”

“Tell her I said to fuck off.” she gives a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”

Violet could have died from embarrassment. Are you fucking kidding me? Trying to fight the smirk that she felt creeping up on her face was the equivalent of fighting for her life.

They shared a set of giggles before Harry spoke up again. "Did she say what I think she-"

"Nope. Not at all." she laughs, moving her hair out of her face. She turns towards him again, fixing her straightened hair. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything.” he shrugs, shaking his head with raised brows.

“You were about to say something.” his hand reaches over to her face, playing with her face framing bangs that were now between his fingers. “Weren’t you?”

[stellarboystyles]

Chapter One

Harry's on the hunt for his flavor of the week and has no idea what's about to hit him.

word count: 1.2k

Luck.

It’s something Harry was never very sure about. That is, whether it was real or not. It’s a popular saying and belief, really. Telling someone good luck before a sports event or performance, or that you’re lucky to have something or someone. For Harry, people often tell him he’s lucky to have the charm and good looks that he has. 

Luck’s got nothin’ to do with it.

Skill is what he knows. Agility. Strength. Power. Things that were real. Things that could be proven. The familiarity of it all. Being a fighter has its ups and downs, but it’s consistent and concrete. No feelings involved, just accuracy and power.  Maybe it stems from some bullshit trauma he endured as a child, a repressed memory maybe. Taking into account who his father is, it wouldn’t surprise him one bit. The upbringing that Harry experienced would cause nearly anyone to question their beliefs, and Harry’s no exception. The presumptuous absence of God in his adolescence made him into who he is today.

An absolute dazzler.

Harry is used to being the center of attention. He’s never had a problem with the ladies, thanks to his looks and charm. Needless to say he’s used to double-takes from gawking girls at the bar, and honestly most public places. So when a group of girls from across the bar would collectively and shamelessly give him fuck me eyes, it was nothing new. But out of Harry's peripheral, he sees a group of girls walk in through the front entrance and it catches his eye. It started off as just a normal reaction, looking towards the door when someone walks into a room. It's a natural human response to ensure safety, of course. However, when he saw the crowd walking in was a group of girls, and attractive ones at that, it piqued his interest enough to do a double-take himself. His eyes do a rough scan over them, looking for features he finds attractive. They were at varying heights, but relatively similar. Same with their body types, all within the same range.

But one girl stands out to Harry in particular and all the other girls fizzle out. 

She looked to be about five foot four, maybe five foot five. Tanned skin, maybe Armenian? Persian? Not that it mattered, anyway. Harry was really only looking for his flavor of the week whenever he went to the bars with his friends. Sure, if he met the right girl, one who he wouldn’t mind taking home to his mum he’d have no problem stopping the random hookups and shifting his lifestyle. But Harry couldn’t focus on anything long term with the way this girls’ dark waves fell behind her shoulders effortlessly, chatting with her friends as they scanned the perimeter for potential beaus to take home. 

Harry snickers as he watches one of her friends motion to a guy across the bar, and the mystery girl scrunches up her nose in disagreement, shaking her head and mouthing, he’s not cute.

In Harry’s opinion, she was the prettiest one out of her friend group. She stuck out like a popstar in a crowd of normies, glowing in the neon lights of the dance floor. It's clear that she’s used to getting a large amount of attention. He takes a second to look her up and down and has to pry his eyes away. Harry also became aware of the fact that this girl wasn't lacking in any department. The black cargo joggers she was wearing accentuated the curve of her butt and the bright pink corset top that showed off just enough cleavage. He likes her outfit, too. It’s looking more like Sunday best compared to the dental floss a lot of other girls wear to bars. There's a fine line between cute and slutty, and she hits the perfect medium. 

“Y’know, you should really make it more obvious. I don’t think you’re staring hard enough.”

The sarcasm in Zayn’s voice snaps him out of his lustful gaze, rolling his eyes before he even turns his head. 

“How ‘bout you go fuck yourself instead?”

“Easy.” Harry’s friend laughs, lifting a lowball glass up to his mouth. 

“Better be careful, before you ‘hello, you’ you’re way in too deep.”

“Hahaha, you’re so funny Niall! Piss off.”

Niall’s laughter makes Harry’s eyes roll into the bottle he’s drinking from. He takes a leisurely sip from the beer, before borderline slamming it back down onto the bar. 

“This is ass. I need a whiskey.”

He strolls towards the bar, conveniently right next to where the girl he’s been eyeing is standing. He hears a round of whistles from his mates behind him, earning a certain finger to be raised behind his back.

“You owe me a drink.”

Violet turns her head at the interjection of a new voice. It takes one look for her to scan over him to determine whether or not he’s worth her time. But one glance at his piercing eye contact and gorgeous face, and she knows she wants him.

Violet slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings.

“What?” Harry gives her an expecting look with raised brows, teasing her with a light shrug. “I spilled mine when I saw you!”

This response earns a smile of realization from her, tilting her head “Nice.”

“Speaking of drinks, you,” he leisurely gestures a finger towards her. “Don’t have one.”

“I don’t.” she agrees warmly, briefly turning her gaze to the bar. “I was just about to flag someone down.”

“What do you want?”

He flicks two fingers to get a bartender’s attention, holding eye contact with her still.

“Ah, cranberry vodka.”

Safe choice, Harry thinks to himself.

While Harry orders her drink and himself a whiskey, she takes the opportunity to give him another look. The satin button up was a stark contrast against his tanned skin, the rolled up sleeves showing his biceps perfectly. She was sure to be subtle when eyeing his tattoos, careful not to be caught by him. She’s sure the ink is probably a huge talking point with the ladies, and she’d be correct. It adds to his personality; every tattoo is supposed to have a story, right? However, some of his ink would beg to differ. Needless to say, he wasn’t lacking in the looks department.

“Make it a double.”

His hair was dark, his eyes gorgeous. 

“You got it, love.”

If you know anything about Violet, you should know when it comes to men, she’s extremely picky and her type is specific to say the least. To keep it short—dark hair, light eyes. Confident and knowing how to flirt. His breath on her ear interrupts her lustful daydream as he leans down to tell her something. This wafts his cologne her way and she gets the scent of cedarwood and vanilla igniting a primal response. 

It takes a lot to make Violet get nervous around a guy, but this one’s made it happen without even trying. Everything he does seems so effortless.

“Here y’go, love.”

She thanks him as he hands her the ruby-colored cocktail.

“M’Harry.”

She nods mid sip and smiles. “”Violet.”

[stellarboystyles]

Chapter One

Harry's on the hunt for his flavor of the week and has no idea what's about to hit him.

word count: 1.2k

Luck.

It’s something Harry was never very sure about. That is, whether it was real or not. It’s a popular saying and belief, really. Telling someone good luck before a sports event or performance, or that you’re lucky to have something or someone. For Harry, people often tell him he’s lucky to have the charm and good looks that he has. 

Luck’s got nothin’ to do with it.

Skill is what he knows. Agility. Strength. Power. Things that were real. Things that could be proven. The familiarity of it all. Being a fighter has its ups and downs, but it’s consistent and concrete. No feelings involved, just accuracy and power.  Maybe it stems from some bullshit trauma he endured as a child, a repressed memory maybe. Taking into account who his father is, it wouldn’t surprise him one bit. The upbringing that Harry experienced would cause nearly anyone to question their beliefs, and Harry’s no exception. The presumptuous absence of God in his adolescence made him into who he is today.

An absolute dazzler.

Harry is used to being the center of attention. He’s never had a problem with the ladies, thanks to his looks and charm. Needless to say he’s used to double-takes from gawking girls at the bar, and honestly most public places. So when a group of girls from across the bar would collectively and shamelessly give him fuck me eyes, it was nothing new. But out of Harry's peripheral, he sees a group of girls walk in through the front entrance and it catches his eye. It started off as just a normal reaction, looking towards the door when someone walks into a room. It's a natural human response to ensure safety, of course. However, when he saw the crowd walking in was a group of girls, and attractive ones at that, it piqued his interest enough to do a double-take himself. His eyes do a rough scan over them, looking for features he finds attractive. They were at varying heights, but relatively similar. Same with their body types, all within the same range.

But one girl stands out to Harry in particular and all the other girls fizzle out. 

She looked to be about five foot four, maybe five foot five. Tanned skin, maybe Armenian? Persian? Not that it mattered, anyway. Harry was really only looking for his flavor of the week whenever he went to the bars with his friends. Sure, if he met the right girl, one who he wouldn’t mind taking home to his mum he’d have no problem stopping the random hookups and shifting his lifestyle. But Harry couldn’t focus on anything long term with the way this girls’ dark waves fell behind her shoulders effortlessly, chatting with her friends as they scanned the perimeter for potential beaus to take home. 

Harry snickers as he watches one of her friends motion to a guy across the bar, and the mystery girl scrunches up her nose in disagreement, shaking her head and mouthing, he’s not cute.

In Harry’s opinion, she was the prettiest one out of her friend group. She stuck out like a popstar in a crowd of normies, glowing in the neon lights of the dance floor. It's clear that she’s used to getting a large amount of attention. He takes a second to look her up and down and has to pry his eyes away. Harry also became aware of the fact that this girl wasn't lacking in any department. The black cargo joggers she was wearing accentuated the curve of her butt and the bright pink corset top that showed off just enough cleavage. He likes her outfit, too. It’s looking more like Sunday best compared to the dental floss a lot of other girls wear to bars. There's a fine line between cute and slutty, and she hits the perfect medium. 

“Y’know, you should really make it more obvious. I don’t think you’re staring hard enough.”

The sarcasm in Zayn’s voice snaps him out of his lustful gaze, rolling his eyes before he even turns his head. 

“How ‘bout you go fuck yourself instead?”

“Easy.” Harry’s friend laughs, lifting a lowball glass up to his mouth. 

“Better be careful, before you ‘hello, you’ you’re way in too deep.”

“Hahaha, you’re so funny Niall! Piss off.”

Niall’s laughter makes Harry’s eyes roll into the bottle he’s drinking from. He takes a leisurely sip from the beer, before borderline slamming it back down onto the bar. 

“This is ass. I need a whiskey.”

He strolls towards the bar, conveniently right next to where the girl he’s been eyeing is standing. He hears a round of whistles from his mates behind him, earning a certain finger to be raised behind his back.

“You owe me a drink.”

Violet turns her head at the interjection of a new voice. It takes one look for her to scan over him to determine whether or not he’s worth her time. But one glance at his piercing eye contact and gorgeous face, and she knows she wants him.

Violet slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings.

“What?” Harry gives her an expecting look with raised brows, teasing her with a light shrug. “I spilled mine when I saw you!”

This response earns a smile of realization from her, tilting her head “Nice.”

“Speaking of drinks, you,” he leisurely gestures a finger towards her. “Don’t have one.”

“I don’t.” she agrees warmly, briefly turning her gaze to the bar. “I was just about to flag someone down.”

“What do you want?”

He flicks two fingers to get a bartender’s attention, holding eye contact with her still.

“Ah, cranberry vodka.”

Safe choice, Harry thinks to himself.

While Harry orders her drink and himself a whiskey, she takes the opportunity to give him another look. The satin button up was a stark contrast against his tanned skin, the rolled up sleeves showing his biceps perfectly. She was sure to be subtle when eyeing his tattoos, careful not to be caught by him. She’s sure the ink is probably a huge talking point with the ladies, and she’d be correct. It adds to his personality; every tattoo is supposed to have a story, right? However, some of his ink would beg to differ. Needless to say, he wasn’t lacking in the looks department.

“Make it a double.”

His hair was dark, his eyes gorgeous. 

“You got it, love.”

If you know anything about Violet, you should know when it comes to men, she’s extremely picky and her type is specific to say the least. To keep it short—dark hair, light eyes. Confident and knowing how to flirt. His breath on her ear interrupts her lustful daydream as he leans down to tell her something. This wafts his cologne her way and she gets the scent of cedarwood and vanilla igniting a primal response. 

It takes a lot to make Violet get nervous around a guy, but this one’s made it happen without even trying. Everything he does seems so effortless.

“Here y’go, love.”

She thanks him as he hands her the ruby-colored cocktail.

“M’Harry.”

She nods mid sip and smiles. “”Violet.”

[stellarboystyles]

👋

Fave harry styles movies??

dunkirk but i haven't seen my policeman yet :/

[stellarboystyles]

no shade but the peace i have now was worth everything i left

[stellarboystyles]

Pillow Wall

Where Harry wants to blame the cold or the mattress or her gravity, but the truth is, he just sleeps better wrapped up in her.

Word count: 1,357

Every night, they start the same way.

Harry climbs into bed first, flops onto his side with a groan like it’s been the longest day in the world—even if it hasn’t. Y/N follows a minute later, switching off the lamp, the room going soft and quiet.

He shifts to the far edge of his side. She mirrors him on hers. A whole country between them.

“G’night, love,” he says, muffled into his pillow.

“’Night,” she replies, already halfway to sleep.

Sometimes he’ll add something dumb, like “Don’t steal the covers,” even though she never does. Or, “Don’t kick me,” even though it’s his foot that always ends up on her side.

They face away from each other. No touching. No cuddling. No crossing the invisible line.

It’s not a cold thing—it’s just how it is. She likes her space. He says he sleeps better without limbs on him. It works.

At least until morning.

Because every single day, without fail, Y/N wakes up with Harry practically glued to her.

This morning, it’s worse than usual. He’s managed to wedge himself between her arm and chest, face smushed against her collarbone, one leg thrown across her hips like he’s trying to claim territory. His breath is warm and slow against her skin. Peaceful. Way too comfortable for someone who swears he needs “distance to function.”

She blinks at the ceiling for a second, lips twitching.

“Again?” she mumbles, mostly to herself.

Harry stirs, groaning like someone’s just disturbed his royal slumber.

“You dragged me in,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. “Every time. Like a bloody magnet.”

She snorts. “Sure I did.”

His arms tighten just slightly around her, and then he goes still again, already drifting back off.

Liar, she thinks.

It keeps happening.

The next morning, she wakes up with his nose buried in her neck and his hand resting casually under her shirt, palm flat against her stomach like he belongs there. He’s snoring lightly, and his leg is hooked around hers in a way that makes it physically impossible to move without waking him.

She lies there for a minute, not quite annoyed, not quite amused—just… baffled. Again.

“Harry,” she whispers, shifting just enough to make a point.

“Mm?” His voice is rough, still half in a dream. “Cold. You pulled me in.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too.”

She sighs. He’s not even trying anymore.

Morning three, she wakes up practically spooning him. His back is to her, but her arm is slung around his waist, his fingers lazily twined with hers, like they fell asleep mid-conversation. Like this is just what they do.

She pulls her hand back slowly, like she’s dealing with a wild animal, and rolls onto her side. He follows her instinctively, still asleep, reaching for her even as she escapes.

By the time she gets up to brush her teeth, he’s taken over her pillow and curled into the spot where she was like a cat chasing warmth.

“Menace,” she mutters under her breath.

The next day, she wakes up nose-to-nose with him. Full frontal cuddle. His knee between her thighs, his arms around her like they’ve been in the middle of some intense, slow-motion hug all night. His lips are slightly parted, curls a mess, breath hitting her chin in soft little waves.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t even try.

“You okay down there?” she whispers.

His eyes barely crack open. “Would be better if you’d stop yanking me in like a sleep-deprived octopus.”

She just stares at him. “You seriously think I’m the one doing this?”

“Babe,” he says, voice low and hoarse, “I’m a victim.”

Then he presses his face back into her neck and falls asleep again.

A smug, snoring victim.

It happens again on a Thursday.

She wakes up with his entire body sprawled on top of hers. His head is tucked beneath her chin, his arms wrapped under her back, and somehow, he’s managed to get one of his feet under her calf like he’s trying to anchor her in place.

She’s had enough.

“Harry,” she says, sharp this time.

“Mmmph.”

“Get off me.”

He groans, buries his face deeper into her chest like that’ll help. “Why’re you so loud?”

“Because you are a liar,” she says, untangling her arm and smacking his shoulder with it. “You keep blaming me for this. Every morning. Like I’m the one dragging your six-foot ass across the bed in my sleep.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just exhales, long and dramatic.

“Look at this,” she gestures, even though his eyes are still shut. “You’re fully on top of me. There is no way I pulled you into this.”

He cracks one eye open. “You’re warm.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re warm,” he repeats, like that explains everything. “And you smell nice. And sometimes I wake up a little and think, ‘Cuddles would be good,’ and then I just… do it.”

She gapes at him. “So you admit it.”

“I’m only human, Y/N.”

She smacks him with a pillow.

He grins into her shirt. Doesn’t even pretend to move.

Later that night, she makes a big production out of it.

“I’m putting a pillow wall between us,” she announces, tossing one of the big decorative ones from the couch onto the bed and propping it upright between them. “You stay on your side. No trespassing. I mean it.”

Harry watches her from his side, already under the covers, biting back a smile.

“Alright,” he says, hands up in surrender. “Message received. No cuddles. Ever again.”

“Exactly,” she says, climbing in. “Cuddle embargo. Effective immediately.”

“Harsh but fair.”

“Thank you.”

She clicks off the lamp. Silence falls.

For two minutes.

Then—

“I just think,” he says quietly, “you’re being a bit dramatic about how much you love me.”

She groans into her pillow. “Harry.”

“Can’t help that you’re clingy in your sleep. I’m the victim here, remember?”

She tosses a hand over the pillow wall and hits him in the face without looking.

He laughs. “That’s assault.”

She stays silent. Firm. Unmoving. She’s serious this time.

Until morning.

Because, of course, when she wakes up, the pillow wall is gone—mysteriously vanished—and Harry is back where he always ends up: wrapped around her like he belongs there, like it’s instinct. Like neither of them ever meant the distance in the first place.

She doesn’t bother waking him. Just lies there, hand idly brushing through his hair.

She’ll rebuild the wall tonight. Maybe.

Probably not.

[stellarboystyles]

need new blogs to follow lmkkkk

[stellarboystyles]

who is your last post about

it honestly doesn't matter it's happened so many times. ppl in this fandom (on this app specifically) who have the most followers give the biggest mean girl energy on the planet and i don't and won't sit back and let it happen (:

[stellarboystyles]

some of y’all are DISGUSTING for bullying other people INDIRECTLY through your anons and driving other ppl to delete their blogs bc you peaked in HS. immediate blocking everyone with mean girl energy in 2025.

[stellarboystyles]

reneé rapp, the woman that u are

[stellarboystyles]

👋

Fave harry styles movies??

y'all are probably gonna think i'm a fake fan for saying this but the only one i've seen is dnd, BUT i'm gonna watch the other two!!! (eventually)

[stellarboystyles]

Arghhh can’t wait for more below the belt 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Ahhh thank you!! I have a LOT going on rn but will try to get another chapter out asap 🤍

[stellarboystyles]

Fireproof by One Direction except from a transistor radio in your pocket as you skateboard through the empty streets of a little town on a summer evening. The sunset’s in your eyes and the moquitoes are coming out, but you’re completely free for the next few months. You feel good.

requested by @dordey

[stellarboystyles]

Has below the belt been posted and I’ve missed it somehow? 👀👀

She’s up now!!!

[stellarboystyles]

long live the old gc <3

i love growing up a fangirl and following my fandom friends on their real social media and seeing them doing amazing shit years later, and then seeing a post of them going to a show that years ago we would’ve gone to together up and thinking “look at this beautiful thing that will always unite us”. i love being a fangirl forever and always.

[stellarboystyles]

[stellarboystyles]

hiiii hope you’re well! Will we ever get a part 2 to right where you left me?? That cliffhanger gets me on edge every time I re read it lol

Harry's never endured a more torturously long trip inside a vehicle quite like this ambulance ride. The hospital was 5 bloody minutes out and it felt like fifty, clutching his wife's hand like it was the last time he ever could where she was clutching back. He'll never forget the look in her eyes that night.

"I don't wanna die."

Her cries crushed his soul. The look on her face and the quivering in her voice was enough send him into a coma. We're talking about the girl that Harry knew he was going to marry by the middle of their second date.

"M'gonna marry you."

Nora hides a giggle behind the wine glass in her hand.

"You're drunk."

When people ask Harry when he knew she was the one, he tells this story every time.

Seeing this gorgeous girl—who's warm and kind and...real, tipsy off some cheap wine and giggling at his jokes that he knows aren't really that funny at all—was unbelievable to him.

"M'not drunk, m'serious." Harry scoffs playfully, waving his hand dismissively. "And maybe a little drunk, but that's not even relevant."

"Mhm." she nods, trying to stifle another laugh. "We'll see if your mind changes in the morning."

The eye contact between the two of them never stifled, a defining moment for Nora and Harry. It was a scene out of a Netflix original. John B and Sarah Cameron level shit.

"It won't."

The girl he used to take on secret sushi dates away from any cameras.

“I’ve never met someone who likes poke as much as I do.”

“My mom grew up in China, so this is what I grew up eating.” She laughs.

“I thought sushi was from Japan?”

Nora giggles, giving Harry the impression that he just fucked up royally.

“M’sorry—”

“Harry, didn’t you know that sushi actually originated in China?”

“I—I didn’t.”

“No one really does.” she giggles. “It’s ok.”

“See, when we get married,” she starts, making Harry nearly choke on his water as she’s nonchalantly picking up another sashimi with her chopsticks. “I can make you any kind of sushi you want, like a pro.”

He’s in awe of her. Her charm and her wit, it’s something you can’t fake and he can’t stop smiling.

“Mm, can’t wait.”

The girl that said “okay?!” when he proposed.

The girl that pulled all the strings to make his birthday special during quarantine.

The girl who went to every show of his that she could to support him.

The girl that makes him homemade gifts because she knows they mean more to him that some $11k pair of Gucci boots.

That girl. His forever. His baby. The one he could never live without, even if he tried.

“We’re going to Trauma One.”

“Page OB.”

“Can we get Respiratory in here, please?!”

Harry waits in the waiting room for an eternity. He’s either sitting down in one of the chairs bouncing his leg or pacing back and forth to pass the time. Finally, the door from the waiting room to the ER buzzes open and Harry pushes himself out of the chair to meet the nurse that’s walking out. He knows she’s out here for him, the hospital was a ghost town tonight. No one in the waiting room but him.

“Are you husband?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“What’s her name and birthday?”

“Nora Styles, 1/16/97.”

“Alright, she's up in OB now, 3rd floor. I'll walk you up.”

He’s walking with the nurse as she begins filling him in.

“She's stable now, mum and baby's oxygen levels and heart rate are normal, but her blood pressure is very high, too high for us to be comfortable with letting this go, so the doctor will probably want an emergency c-section.”

The nurse took notice of the worry on Harry's face and attempted to put him at ease.

"It sounds scary, but their number one priority is a healthy and happy mom and baby. And in this case that means getting your baby out as soon as possible."

They reach the unit doors, and she buzzes him in.

"She's in 14B, just down that hall and her room is on the left."

Harry thanks her again and hurries down the hall. His nerves spike approaching the door.

He was almost afraid to see her. He'll never get that image out of his head. Her laying on the fucking pavement, all bloodied and bruised. Probably a scene that could haunt him forever.

“Love?”

Slowly walking in, he sees his wife asleep on the bed. Her arm is bruised pretty badly, marked with purplish blue bruises on her hand.

“Oh, babe.”

He sits down in the chair next to her, and takes her hand in his.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He whispers, kissing her hand before the tears start rolling.

“I love you so much.”

He’s choking back cries, and tilts his head towards the ceiling.

“Don’t let her fucking die, please.”

to be continued