sunshineharrry

[sunshineharrry]

[sunshineharrry]

HARRY STYLES | GOLDEN (2020)

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[sunshineharrry]

Hey!! I loved the piece of writing you posted and visit your blog all the time to see if you’ve posted anything else😅 it was so good I was just wondering if you were ever planning on posting any of your writing again?💖

omG i have never gotten an anon or an ask at all before this is like a dream come true hahahaha I do have something I’ve been working on for a while!! I’m in quarantine right now from school so I have a little extra time on my hands. maybe i can finish it!! 

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Harry at the Electric Ballroom in London - December 19, 2019

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booty shorts that say “ward cameron can you hear me? [yes son yes im right here im right here please bring her back ok we’ll work it all out when you get home.] you killed my father and you framed me for a murder i didnt commit! you took everything from me. you took everything from me. but im still here and i swear to god ward i will come back one day and take whats mine. so you listen to me, all right? im coming for you. im coming for you.” on the ass

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Stormzy is here, have you seen him? I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m sure we will fight.

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the fact that harry styles isn’t loving me right this minute……. fuming

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Harry rehearsing for the Late Late Show  ･ © Terence Patrick/CBS

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life: sucks

harry styles: exists

life: is better

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All Better

in which your son says some naughty words and dad!Harry is a the best dad

“This is fucking bullshit,” you hear your fifteen year-old mutter and you practically yelp from across the kitchen. 

“What did you just say!” You squeak. You’ve got a baby bouncing on your chest and a seven and eleven-year-old at the bar watching between you carefully, the older of the two with her jaw dropped. Harry is at the kitchen table with the twins who are too far engrossed in the cartoon on the tv to hear your son’s profanity, but you both seem to have caught it. 

Your son, Jack, freezes up, obviously not expecting you to have heard him. He turns around, facing his parents.

“Excuse me?” Harry snaps, his stern voice causing the two children at the bar to snap their heads in their father’s direction. 

“I-I didn’t mean to,” your eldest stammers. “It slipped.” 

“You’re about to be grounded for two weeks,” You snap. His brow wrinkles and his lip snares, just like his father’s does when he’s angry. 

“It’s just not very fair that—“

“Life’s not fair, mate, and I’d watch the way you talk to your mum if I was you,” Harry cuts him off. Jack gapes at Harry, looking at him like he’s got two heads. Harry hardly ever has to use his stern voice with your eldest, they’re more like lads than anything. “go to your room.” 

 “Are you serious, dad?” He gapes.

 “Yes, I’m bloody serious! Go!” Harry’s yelling now and the baby lets out a wail at her daddy’s outburst. 

 “Jesus Christ,” Jack mutters, stomping out of the kitchen and up to his bedroom, but not before getting the last word in with, “This family is such a joke!” 

 Harry glares after him as he leaves and his nostrils flare when he hears your son slam his bedroom door. If not for the two toddlers on his lap you think he would have chased after him. 

 The kitchen is filled with an awkward tension between the two girls sitting at the counter finishing their breakfast and you and Harry, but you busy yourself with trying to calm the baby. 

 “Sorry, girls,” Harry says after a moment. “Didn’t mean to yell.” 

 “S’alright, Daddy,” the seven-year-old, Allie, says. “He said naughty words.” 

 “Yes, and we don’t say naughty words, ‘specially to our Mumma,” Harry nods. “He’ll have to apologize to her.” 

 “Harry,” you say, handing the baby off to Laney, the eleven-year-old. “Could I speak to you in our room?” 

 Harry settles the almost four-year-olds onto the table bench and follows you down the hall to your bedroom. He doesn’t notice the tears in your eyes til he’s shut the door behind himself.

 “Baby,” he frowns, reaching out to cup your face. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just a teenager. Teenagers can be wankers!” 

 “He’s usually so sweet, though! Maybe I was being unreasonable. Maybe we should push back his curfew thirty minutes, so he’ll be on time.” 

 “Woah, woah, woah,” Harry shakes his head. “We can’t reward him for being late. He was an hour late and he didn’t call. He knows the rules, he broke them, and he knew there would be consequences.” 

 “He’s fifteen, though, he’s just a kid—“

 “Kids have to follow the rules their mums and dads set, baby. We have six of ‘em, you should know that,” Harry teases, but he’s not bending on this, you can tell. 

 “He cursed at me,” You huff, your bottom lip trembling. “What happened to my sweet baby boy?” 

 Harry sighs and pulls you into his chest, petting your hair down with one of his hands. 

 “I know he upset you,” Harry says. “I bet he’s upstairs regretting it already. Even good kids slip up sometimes, but we’ve still got to punish him, alright? Or he’ll turn really rotten.” 

 You nod against his chest. He’s saying things you know. They’re things you’ve had to stress to him over the years. Harry is not great at enforcing rules and punishment upon children under the age of thirteen, it seems. 

 “Lemme go talk to him first, alright? I’ve got to apologize for shouting at him, anyways.” 

 You nod against Harry’s shirt and he presses a kiss to your head. When you exit the room, you head back to the kitchen to clean up breakfast and harry heads upstairs.

 Harry knocks twice on the door before opening it. Your son is in his rolling chair, sat facing away from his desk typing away at his phone, no doubt texting about how awful his life is to his mates. He swings around to face Harry, his face hard and angry. He looks so much like Harry’s younger self that it’s scary, but all Harry can see is his wife’s attitude seeping out of him and her bottom lip jutted out. 

 “Jack,” Harry says, stepping to his room and shutting the door behind him. He sits down on the bed and jack is swung to face him. “Let’s have a chat.” 

 “Is it going to be a chat or are you just going to shout at me?” 

 “When have I ever just sat her and shouted at you?” Harry snaps. Jack shrugs in response, looking close to uninterested, and Harry really did not come in here to shout, but his son may drive him to it. 

 “You’re at fault here,” harry frowns. “You missed curfew, pal. When you miss curfew on Friday you don’t get to go out on Saturday. You knew the rule and you broke it.” 

 “It was an accident,” he defends, sitting forward. “I said it won’t happen again.” 

 “I’m sure it won’t next weekend when you can go out again.” 

 “That’s so stupid!

 “You’re acting awful,” Harry states. “You were mean to your mum, argued with her, cursed at her, made her cry. She’s downstairs rethinking her parenting style and wondering if she’s capable of raising six kids because you called her family a joke.��

 For the first time since Harry’s come upstairs, his son’s anger cracks. He bites his lip and sits back, eyes looking a tad guilty.

 “Mum cried?”

 Harry nods.

 “Look, I get it if you have some teenage rage, or whatever. Hormones. But you won’t be mean to your mum. I won’t put up with it,” he says. “We discipline you because we love you, even if you don’t agree. Your curfew is reasonable, probably later than other kids your age. Your mum sits up for you to come home every time. When you’re an hour late, can you even imagine the scenarios she has playing in her head?” 

 “I-I didn’t think of it that way,” he stammers, starting to look sheepish. “I didn’t mean to upset her, really. I was speaking without thinking and being a dick.” 

 “I know,” harry agrees. “You’re a kid. Kids do stupid stuff. That’s why you have parents to correct your stupid behavior so that you don’t turn out to be a criminal.” 

 Jack cracks a smile at that. 

 “Sorry, dad,” he says sincerely. “For talking back and for being rude and for missing curfew.” 

 “S’alright, buddy, but I’m not who you ought to be apologizin’ to. She’s downstairs, probably researching books on how to parent because she thinks she’s failed you. Care to go ease her mind?” 

 When they climb down the stairs, Harry’s arm slung over his boy’s shoulders, they find the girls in the living room watching a movie with the two little twins tucked between them. It’s started to rain outside, but you’re sitting on the covered back porch on the sofa with the baby. She’s just finished her bottle and passed out on your chest. Harry is right, you’re scrolling through books on amazon about raising teenagers when they find you. 

 “Hi, angels,” Harry greets, stepping in front of you and reaching for the baby. “Let me go put this one down for her nap and you two talk.” 

 You hand her off to your husband and watch as your son takes a seat next to you on the sofa. 

 “Hi, mum,” he says softly. “Wanted to apologize for earlier and last night.” 

 You feel tears nip at your eyes and you let a corner of your mouth rise, nodding at him to continue. 

 “I was a real wanker. I should’ve been paying more attention to the time and I should’ve called when I realized how late I was. I shouldn’t have argued about the punishment and I really shouldn’t have cursed at you in the kitchen. Also, our family is not a joke. It can be a bit much, but it’s a good family. You’re a good mum, and I’m really sorry for upsetting you.” 

 The tears that formed throughout his rambling start to fall and he really looks sorry then. 

 “Oh, no, mum, don’t cry!” He says, leaning across the sofa and wrapping his arms around you. He’s just like Harry, you think, and almost laugh as he tucks you right into his chest and neck. He grew taller than you years ago, but it still makes your heart hurt that he’s so grown. 

 “‘M really sorry, mum,” he mumbles again, and you squeeze him back tight. 

 “S’alright, baby,” you sigh pulling back from his hug and kissing him right on the forehead. “Thank you for apologizing. It’s okay.” 

 “Okay, good. Love you, mum.” 

 “Love you more, Jacky.” 

 Harry opens the back door right about then. 

 “All better?” He asks, smiling down at you two. You wonder all the time how you got so lucky marrying that man fifteen years ago. 

 “All better,” you agree.

///

HI I’m trying to make myself express my creativity in quarantine and I’ve been dying to write again forever. This feels SO GOOD to finish and post even if it’s just a little fluff piece. I have like 100 unfinished ideas in my google docs, might just start trying to turn them into real projects. If you liked this please let me know!!!! xoxo AB

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Harry out in LA - 31/3

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abbeycowen: It’s the most wonderful time of the year!!

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like or reblog if u save or use.

like ou reblog se você salvar ou usar.

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art moodboard : Claude Monet No one is an artist unless he carries his picture in his head before painting it, and is sure of his method and composition.

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On a building in Berlin.