#female louis tomlinson

[rivusapoems]

[rebirthofdiana]

Missing these days

I love you too 🤭

[paulyenvol6]

Toxic pt. 2

Contains: Smut, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, gagging, dom and mean Harry, sub reader, fingering, fluff

Wordcount: 2.42k

Y/n felt the breeze in her hair and just hoped it wouldn’t be all messy when she would try to comb it later. And she also prayed she wouldn’t catch the cold and lay sick in bed for the rest of the week. 'Fuck', y/n thought looking at her phone again but there was no notification.

She was sitting by this stupid bench alone on a Friday night. Harry had promised her a 'beautiful romantic date, just the two of us' and she had been surprised. In a very good way.

She had smiled and nodded and told him that it sounded lovely. But then a day later on Thursday Harry had texted her to ask her whether it would be okay if she would just pick him up after his football training and then the two of them could go on a stroll to go to a bar nearby.

Y/n had frowned at her phone, kind of felt the need to throw it against the wall but had agreed. She had been disappointed that a 'beautiful, romantic date' turned out to be a date in a bar but she wanted to give him a chance as she was still charmed by the gesture.

But well, now y/n wondered if it had been a mistake.

Harry had told her to be by the football team house at 7 pm and she had been there at 6:57 pm. When he hadn’t been there at 7:03 she had simply started to count the window panes of the shed that Harry had called a house. At 7:08 y/n had looked around to peek through one of the windows and at 7:16 she had texted him.

She could go in, sure. Harry was only a few feet away from her but you didn’t want to. He had invited her and y/n wouldn’t give in and chase after him.

Now it was 7:29 and she was annoyed. Now and then she could hear some laughter from inside the shed and y/n rolled her eyes. It was a Friday night and she had just spent half and hour in front of a stupid shed waiting for her boyfriend.

'No.', y/n thought. She was 22 years old and supposed to have fun in her life. Fuck this. Fuck his dumb idea of a date. Tonight she wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t storm into that shed, embarrassing herself by interrupting him and drag him out of there.

Y/n got up from the bench and took her bag. With a last look at the building she turned around and walked away. 10 minutes later she wasn't so sure about her plans anymore. Y/n didn’t really know where she actually wanted to go. She had walked through the small park next to the football pitch and now stood on a more lively street. She wanted to have fun, so that meant to find herself a warm place because her feet felt like ice by now.

While walking down the street she looked around trying to spot a nice bar or restaurant and then her eyes caught a sign. 'At Peter’s'. Y/n was thinking. That might just be the bar Harry had wanted to take her to. He had mentioned the name on the phone but of course she had forgotten.

But that didn’t matter now, the bar looked nice and y/n really wanted to get inside so she headed right towards it. Once she had entered it she was looking for somewhere to sit and actually spotted a stool at the counter.

Y/n ordered a beer and forced herself not to look at her phone. She had sworn herself not to think about Harry tonight. He had treated her badly, had neglected her and now he didn’t deserve to be the center of her thoughts.

Y/n sipped on her beer and looked around in the bar when she noticed someone sat down to her left. Curiously she turned around and looked right into the eyes of a young man with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

She almost choked on her drink, so surprised by his gaze and coughed. "I’m sorry.", y/n pressed and the man grinned. "What for?" She chuckled when her breathing had calmed down. "For staring right at you and then almost choke at my beer. I was just startled."

The man smiled and she noticed that he had dimples. Like Harry. No, she couldn’t think about him again. "It’s alright.", the man said. "My name is Nick, by the way." Y/n smiled back at him. "My name is y/n. Very nice to meet you."

He took her hand and softly shook it which made her laugh again. "What brings you here alone on a Friday night?" Y/n rested her elbows on the counter. "Mhmm, I don’t know really. I think I needed a new environment." Nick nodded. "Respectable." "And what about you?"

Y/n rested her chin on the palm of her hands and watched him precisely. He chuckled and watched his hands on the counter. "Will it be enough for you if I simply say the air in my flat was too thin?" She laughed and Nick joined it.

But then he got serious again. "You know, I don’t want to be rude, y/n. If you don’t want any company right now I don’t want to bother you. I just want to make sure you want me to sit here next to you, you know…" "She does not." The voice made her jump and y/n quickly turned around. "Harry!", she said loudly and widened her eyes.

No, no! She was mad at him, she couldn’t feel guilty or scared now. HE was the one who had messed up. HE was the one who should come here and apologise. But the way he stood there. His hair still slightly wet from his shower and he just looked so confident.

She slapped herself mentally and changed her eyes to looking angry. "What was that, Harry? You told me to be there at 7 pm. And half an hour later, no sight of you, no message, nothing!" Harry didn’t look at y/n. He hadn’t looked at her while she had hissed these words but just looked at Nick furiously.

Speaking of, Nick looked from y/n to Harry and he obviously was confused by this situation. "Is… everything fine?" Harry chuckled sarcastically and leaned down to him. „Yes. If you leave this bar right now. And if you’re never gonna look at her again.“

Nick frowned and she could clearly see the fear in his eyes. So he quickly got up, grabbed his jacket not without letting her boyfriend out of sight and then left. "Harry?", y/n asked again but he ignored her. Then he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?", she hissed trying to make him let go of her but his grip was tight. He dragged y/n to the toilets of the bar, into a cabin and locked the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing, Harry?", she pressed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It was the first time he looked at her tonight and took a step in y/n's direction. "I don’t want to EVER walk into a bar again and see you talk to another man. Do you understand me?" She raised her chin. "You are the one who – " Harry cut her off by grabbing the side of her face with his right and putting his hand on her mouth with his left.

"Mhmm. No. Wrong answer." He made another step towards y/n and her back hit the wall. He then removed his hand from her mouth and held her neck with it. "You’re mine, y/n. And I don’t like seeing other men toying with what’s mine."

She looked up to him and felt her knees getting weak. Fuck, this wasn’t how she had planned this. How was he able to turn her into a thoughtless mess so quickly? She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay strong if he looked at her like that.

"Say it.", Harry spoke and he ran the thumb of his right hand over her lips. "What?", she breathed. "Say who you belong to." "No.", y/n spit and Harry tightly pressed her against the wall while his hand put a little pressure on her throat. "Yes. You will. Because if you don’t I’ll leave you here and go home alone. And I know that you're little panties are soaked right now and my poor girl is craving my touch."

He lifted her chin. "So go on. I’m listening." God, why was he so good? Who had taught him that? She looked at him with big eyes, begging him to just touch her but he didn’t give in. "I’m yours.", y/n eventually quietly whispered.

"What was that?" "I’m yours Harry." He smirked widely. "Aha. There we go. Good girl." She pressed her thighs together at his words and Harry chuckled. "Just as I thought.", he growled and then roughly spreaded her thighs. "Go on. Touch yourself.", he said and y/n looked up to him surprised.

"Do it." She hadn't expected him to demand her to touch herself and yet she obeyed him. Her shaky hand slid between her legs and under her skirt and her thumb found her clit. "Rub yourself, darling.", he whispered while watching y/n's hand disappear under her skirt.

She began drawing tight circles around her little nub and then after a while Harry's right hand wandered under her shirt. He massaged her boobs and rubbed her nipples between his fingers which made y/n sigh loudly. His left hand crawled up to her throat and he choked her lightly.

"Get on your fucking knees.", he suddenly said and y/n immediately stopped rubbing her clit. Harry pushed her down in front of him and didn't waste another second. He opened his jeans, pulled them down, freed his cock in a matter of seconds and then ran his tip over her mouth.

"Open, you little slut.", he hissed and y/n knew better than to disobey him. She opened her lips and Harry thrusted deep inside her. She needed to cough, felt him trigger her gagging reflex but Harry didn't allow her to get away from his cock.

His hand had grabbed the back of her head tightly and held her in this position. "Don't fight.", he moaned. "Just fucking relax." Y/n tried her best to breathe through her nose and after a while could loosen around his cock.

"Good girl. Yes.", Harry whispered when he felt her calm down and he started to thrust into her mouth. His hand moved her head along to his hips and hit the back of her throat every time. "Fuck. Oh holy shit, your mouth is a fucking… paradise." Harry had thrown his head back and moved her head faster and faster.

Y/n knew him by now and could sense that it wouldn't take him long to reach his orgasm. She felt his thick cock thrust into her mouth over and over again and just when she expected him to shoot his seed into her throat he suddenly pulled out of her and y/n opened her eyes in surprise.

Harry took a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. Without saying a word he turned her around and pressed her to the wall while lifting her skirt. "Harry.", y/n moaned and blindly reached behind so he would take her hand but Harry simply pressed it to the wall. "Shut up.", he groaned and then ran his cock through her folds.

She was incredibly wet and Harry grinned against the back of her head. "You're a little whore, do you know that?", he whispered against her ear. "Getting soaked from getting your mouth fucked." Y/n whimpered when his cock hit her clit and shifted nervously so Harry smacked her ass. "Stop moving around." Y/n nodded quickly.

She just wanted him to fill her hole and couldn't wait for him to finally enter her. And he did, with one deep thrust he stretched her walls and both moaned loudly. Harry started to slam inside of her and y/n pressed her hands to the wall in an attempt to hold on to something. "Mhmm.", she made and felt her knees getting weak.

Harry's hand reached around her body and his hand wrapped around her throat. He lightly choked her and she felt a little dizzy from all this stimulation. Because Harry's other hand had started to make its way between her thighs and he rubbed at her clit. "Harry. Please…", she whined but her voice sounded a bit croaky due to the hand around her neck that restricted the air coming to her lungs.

Harry was relentless with his pace and he fucked her hard and deep against the wall. She felt him so deep inside her and in combination with his hand on her clit she felt like she was about to explode.

"Harry…", she whined and his hand around her neck wandered to her mouth. "Shut it. You're gonna make the whole bar hear you." Now she moaned against his mouth and after a few more moments y/n felt the knot in her stomach tightend pleasure washed over her.

"Shit.", she shrieked and luckily her noises were supressed by Harry's hand. Feeling her clench around him sent him over the edge as well and he came with a deep growl. Y/n could feel his seed filling her up and know her knees really would have given in if Harry hadn't held her at her waist.

He breathed a few times deeply trying to recover from the high and then he pulled out of her. Y/n couldn't see what he was doing but then Harry turned her around and stroke her cheek. He smirked and kissed her swiftly on her lips.

He had adjusted his own trousers and now grabbed a paper tissue, got it wet and cleaned y/n's pussy. His cum was leaking out and running down her thighs and it definitely would've been suspicious if she had walked out like that.

Then Harry pulled up her panties and adjusted her clothes. Y/n herself was too fucked out and powerless to do anything so she just let her boyfriend take care and it honestly felt good that he took cared of her. After Harry was finished he took her hand. "Come.", he said softly. "What are we doing?" "We're going on our date."

[lexapro-princess]

I know they're happy as solo artists but I don't care bring them back

[sinligh]

i want peace,

not the measured one that life offers me from time to time like a band-aid that will be ripped off before I heal

I want it like a graft,

patching up the exposed areas that i scraped off of my soul to feel lighter..

to move on.

I’m trying to write an independent story from all the tragedies of the women around me

digging my own plot with my nails on the exact same rocks that were used

to stone them..

carrying the guilt of that, the way they carried the shame of existence. The only difference is i refuse to ask for forgiveness.

sometimes it feels like all my feelings are over felt, if not by me then someone else.

I've seen it over and over again I, the eye of an outsider

or that of the storm

stood still when it all spiraled around me, I held on to the rubble,

and cemented myself back together

more often than not, I did it with rage so whenever i got spilled, like blood under an old rug,

with all my particles separated into different identities, unseen, uncared for while i floated in an astral projection status

Ironically, the core was always one

rage, rage again…

aging rage!

It's all that i know, it's all the shades.

I exist, Like an ugly bruise

Violet fading to blue, violent, contrasting the softness that i long for.

I can't seem to explain my existence to anyone, not even myself.

a bruise, self inflicted or not, I can’t stop examining it, obsessively

dissecting pieces of my soul, trying to find a marker for the malicious cells that overgrown my own.

In the daylight I get fascinated by the way it changes colors, and when sleep sits heavy on my eyelids i press on it harder,

curious to where will i draw my threshold line.. do i know how to exist without all this pain?

am i just a phantom of coping mechanisms, and survival instincts,

Shades of hysteria, along with estrogen ?

this world constantly seems bigger than me, that’s my only comfort.

•••

• Quotes: Taylor Swift/ Charles Bukowski/ Henry Miller/ anne sexton/ Louis Tomlinson/ Anaïs Nin/ Rainer Maria Rilke.

•original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1. painting by marta astrain. 2. Omen, 1886, by Emile Corsi 3. Oil paintings by Jen Mazza 4. Art by Liu Yuanshou 5. Art (detail) by Arthur Gain

•••

[sunshineandlyrics]

🚛 🐕 Snarls explaining about this dog traveling with Louis' touring crew named is Shithead Shaheed x

And a recent pic of her from FITFWT Vancouver x

[muserryy]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG ♡

HI!!! I'm nan, 19 and i write oneshots and poems about harry styles. all the work posted on my blog are original and mine. im currently working on my new harry styles series 'LIFE OF REVA'

link to my other social media : wattpad, pinterest, instagram .

MUSERRYY MASTERLIST ☆⁠･｡ﾟ

ONE SHOT :-

Back home to you - harry returns home after finishing his tour and surprises y/n.

What did you get me? (part 2 of back home to you)

Larry's little kitten - harry, louis with his broken wrist and their little kitten, blue.

There's no place like home - harry plans a secret harryween just for him and his love.

Stargazing - the title says it all.

His necklace - harry gives you his necklace as a keepsake.

People blues - harry supports and helps you overcome your antisocial tendencies.

Late night calls - you can't sleep so you call harry in the middle of the night.

Tie the bow - you make harry do the coquette bow trend.

SERIES :-

LIFE OF REVA (H.S)

POEMS :-

Dear Baby Harry (hs)

Favorite pair of eyes (hs)

Your handwriting (hs)

to-do list

i think i miss you

i stumbled upon you in my dreams (hs)

MOODBOARDS AND DESIRES :-

harry is such a babygirl.

i wanna be bestfriends with harry.

harry's voice in my head is my way to cope.

will you go places with me, harry?

i wanna cry in harry's arms.

[the-man-in-the-suit-official]

A Flicker Of Hunger.

-Summary: Harry panics when the love isn’t as exciting as it used to be, an old friend makes his way to comfort you and something new blossoms.

A/N - UNEDITED. I grew frustrated with tumblr deleting this one. Rushed toward the end.

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

Length: Long

TW: Throwing up, Emotional breakdowns, Drinking, Minor drug use (Weed)

Celebrities: Harry Styles, Niall Horan

Song(s) To Listen To: Flicker - Niall Horan. Hunger - Harry Styles.

It’s not that Harry didn’t love you. Just…not like before. He was young, and if he were extremely honest - very, very scared. He felt his youth would be escaping himself soon and then maybe he wouldn’t be able to make changes to the world like he so desperately wanted.

It all started out quite lovely, really. You had loved the X-Factor, following it religiously, and it just so happens that you were there on the day of that fateful grouping of the boys. That’s how you met the sea-green eyed prince.

You had bumped into him on your way in to get seated, colliding with his scrawny back, “God, I’m so sorry-“

He turned around slowly, eyes landing on you, making you freeze, even more so when he smiled, revealing his dimples, “‘S no worry at all. Ya alright?”

He spoke slowly, softly, eyes half-lidded as you nodded before he bit his lip, “Erm, could ya help me? I’m lookin’ for this place here.”

He brought down a map to your level, pointing to backstage, “Oh! You’re a performer?”

“Yeah, actually,” He chuckled, “I’m quite nervous.”

His accent was thick and lovely, making you smile, “I’ll help you…”

You waited for him to finish the sentence, “Harry,” He replied, “Styles.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you navigated him toward the camera crew, dropping him off there, “This is it.”

“Thank you,” He nodded toward you, “I never caught your name?”

“Ah,” You smiled, admiring the pretty boy, “Meet me again and I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“Challenge accepted,” He finished, “I hope to see you soon.”

“We’ll see. I’ll be watching out for you,” Truthfully, you wanted his number but were far too shy, “Just remember me when you’re famous.”

A time passed and you found yourself there again, a ticket to sit in the front seat, ultimately upset when Harry was pulled from the competition. Of course, he impressed everyone without much work - he was handsome, could sing and dance, and had just the right soft personality for the next big star, but it seemed then that maybe he just wasn’t enough.

You stumbled out of the auditorium, one of the last people to leave, waiting for your boyfriend at the entrance. Waiting outside the men’s bathrooms, one after another, the five boys you had watched on stage stumbled out.

Harry nearly bumped into you, “Oh, ‘m so sorry!” He exclaimed, a blonde colliding into his back. You recognized him as Niall Horan, another contestant.

“It’s okay. You got me back for what I did last time,” You giggled softly at the taller boy, admiring his politeness.

“Mystery girl!” He exclaimed, a wide smile on his face, “I’ve been looking for you. You came.”

“Of course I did. I’m sorry about not making it through,” You sighed, “I thought you were great.”

“Ah, ‘s alright,” He continued as his friends chatted among themselves, “Did I do good enough to earn your name? Perhaps your number?”

You smiled, “I’d say so. (Y/N),” You mocked his initial introduction, “(L/N).”

“Nice to formally meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

With some embarrassing flirting that caused the boys to leave and ended with your number on his hand, he turned to you as he was leaving, “Expect a call tonight.”

And he was true to his word. From then on, every night, there was a call. Sometimes from random numbers you had saved since then - Liam, Louis, Niall, Zain (or as he preferred, Zayn). And there began your friendship. It wasn’t long before friendship and business intertwined with the group picking up on your talent for writing lyrics.

It felt like a dream, to say the least. You were invited to parties now - to public events, press meetings, studio sessions, even sleepovers. Of course, you wouldn’t be here, bawling your eyes out if everything stayed perfect.

As your father always said:

Nostalgia is a dirty liar.

It was the little things at first. The way he tucked his hair behind his ear when he was nervous, the way he bounced his leg restlessly no matter where he was sitting, his oddly wide smile for someone so stoic, his love for cheesy romance movies, the way he always knew what to say, especially when he helped you through a rough break up.

Not long after did it take you to realize that there was something brewing, feeding the butterflies in your stomach that always came around when Harry was there.

So it hurt more when Harry began dating again, this time, a 31 year old. Someone more mature and full of experience. Someone who made you insecure.

On this particular night, he was out with her, and Niall had invited you over to spend time with his family who seemed to love you very much. The two of you sat in the cozy living room, watching as the fireplace tried desperately to warm the winter air. A cheesy horror movie happened to be on and Niall’s mop-headed dog sat comfortably between the two of you, resting his head on your lap and his tail on Niall’s.

Somehow, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.

“You should tell Hazza how you feel,” Niall suddenly said, noticing your distant demeanor, “I think you’d be surprised with the outcome.”

“What are you talking about?” You were quick to respond, prepared to defend yourself to death.

“(Y/N), lass, you can’t be serious,” He chuckled, shaking his head and turning to face you, his oversized Christmas sweater moving with him, “Everyone sees it.”

“Huh?” You faced him now, too, scared of what he was going to say.

“You threw up when you found out he was dating someone,” Niall said simply, a small smirk on his face as if to say ‘I got you there!’

“Whatever,” You groaned, knowing there was no way out of this, “Even so, what makes you think he’d feel the same way about me?”

Silence filled the room for a bit, excluding the crackling fire before he broke it abruptly, “I was going to ask you out.”

You turned red instantly, struggling to find the words.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” He cut you off, smiling, “We all wanted to.”

“Really?“ Bewilderment took you.

“Mhm,” The artificial blonde hummed, “But he refused. Was awfully protective of ya. Kept him up at night thinking about us askin’ you.”

You thought for a moment before he continued, “Anyway, you better get with him. We all made bets on it, MG.” He referenced your nickname - Mystery Girl, since Harry had refused to share your name with them for a while.

You blushed again, only this time out of embarrassment, “I hate you, Horan!”

Grabbing a couch pillow, you playfully smacked him with it, and before long it turned into a full-blown pillow fight.

Unsurprisingly, it took long before you ever did confess your feelings to Harry. It was long after he had released his debut album and had just won the hearts of so many girls and boys all over the world. The two of you were throwing a two-person party to celebrate its release and his growing from his latest ex who’s name you couldn’t even remember anymore.

The night had been spent in laughter, constant trips to the bathroom where you left the door open so you could puff and pass the joint and the bottle, and chatting about lives.

“Do you think that there’s a reason for all of this?” He slurred, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“About what, Hazza?” You never let that nickname go.

“Like…life….like…” He sat up and faced you, leaning against his couch, copying your position, a little closer than he intended to be, “Like fo’ reasons…Like fo’ wearin’ mix-matched socks an’ everythin’.”

Both of you shit-faced and cross faded, you smiled at him doozily, a moment of silence filling the room. His eyes always swallowed you in, even when half-lidded and red.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” It came out smoothly, finally releasing tention you’d had for years.

Something washed over him too in that moment, like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear that from you and without much warning, the two of you crashed lips on each other, arms tangling into the other and the kiss growing more passionate with each waking minute.

That’s where it all started, really. Since then, you’d been dating for nearly two years and engaged for one, and at first things were wonderful - magnificent, even. Harry couldn’t keep himself off of you and vise versa. Every thought of his was about you, even while he was touring, even while girls threw bras and phones and even chicken nuggets at him to show their adoration.

But somewhere along the line, Harry noticed a halt. It was terrifying and the thought of being alone scared him. But he couldn’t look at you the same anymore. Your eyes slowly became less bright and beautiful, merging with everything else normal in his life.

It came to the point where the bed felt empty, even with you in it, and you had noticed this too. You were scared of the idea that your one and only Hazza would leave you, because truly, without him, what would you be? You’d lose everything - hope, your best friend, happiness, the house.

So you just went to bed facing his opposite direction, arms crossed tightly to your chest as he hogged the blanket.

‘Maybe he just bit off more than he could chew with me,’ You thought, staring at the blank wall in front of you, afraid of crying.

How did something so wonderful suddenly break apart?

Before, it was like your natural instinct was to love Harry, you didn’t even have to do anything and the two of you were all over each other. Now, though, he hadn’t even tried to touch you in weeks. Two weeks - 13 days to be exact, you’d counted.

You knew it was coming. But it felt different when it actually happened, especially when it was on his birthday.

“I don’t think this is what’s best for us,” He suddenly said over dinner, eating the pescatarian option you had made for him.

“What do you mean?” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty.

“Do you feel the same about me like you did three years ago?” He avoided the question, looking at you in the eyes.

“Of course, H. I’ll always love you, I know that much,” Eyebrows furrowed in worry, “What’s wrong, Hazza?”

“I…” Harry darted his eyes toward the floor, “I don’t think I feel that way anymore.”

Your heart froze, making it delicate as ever, “I’m very proud of you for telling me. We’ll work through it, okay? How about couple’s thera-“

“I don’t think I want to try anymore, (Y/N),” Another sudden comment.

And suddenly all those years started to disappear.

“Harry, we’re engaged.”

He winced slightly, hating when you didn’t call him a nickname you’d given him, but composed himself soon after, “Were.”

You can feel the anxiety brewing and your stomach feels like a war zone, knowing you’ll vomit soon.

This can’t be real.

“I was thinking we could figure it out slowly,” He continues, keeping his calm demeanor, “You don’t have to leave now.”

Please don’t let it be real.

“You can leave whenever we figure it out and-“

“Why?” Was all you could muster, your throat itching with the pain of needles pricking at it.

Smoothly, he sighed, “I jus’ don’t feel in love anymore. I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

The singer tried his best to let you down easy, “You’re always gonna be my best friend first, (Y/N). I’ve known you since I was 16, but now I’m thinking that maybe…Maybe what we had was timed. It’s just not the same.”

A small nod, not being able to even speak anymore, you stuttered out, “I know. I’ve seen it and I just was so afraid of losing you - I…”

You took a deep breath in, “I need to use the restroom.”

He didn’t do much to stop you, only calling out to you before you slammed the door to the bathroom shut and spilled the dinner you were having into the toilet, hot tears and snot running down your face.

You hated yourself for letting it get this far. For even thinking that you had a chance with Harry.

The door creaked open to reveal your now ex-lover, worried with his brows furrowed, “Let me-“

He reached for your hair to pull it out of the way, but you scooted away. You didn’t want him to touch you - you were scared you’d fall more in love than you already were.

“Please,” he begged, “Let me just do this once.”

You could never say no to those eyes. Scooting back, you felt his hands in your hair, his other soothing your back. It would have been endearing, really, but it only made you throw up more, thinking if the life you’d be leaving behind - the life that he was erasing.

You insisted you leave that night, taking a suitcase and essentials.

“(Y/N). Stay,” It was almost a beg, but you shook your head, “Where will you even stay if not here?”

“I’ll find somewhere. I just…I don’t want to be here right now,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

With some convincing, Harry let you go. He placed his hands on your arms tightly, giving you a small kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” You replied, looking to the floor, “See you soon.”

And that was the first day of you downfall.

The media caught on soon after, about three weeks after, bombarding you on social media with all kinds of questions.

You sat in your temporary apartment, taking a swig of some liquor you couldn’t even remember the name of before a familiar name popped up on your screen.

NIALLER: (Y/N), holy shit, are you okay?

Truthfully, it had been so long since you’d spoken to someone who was practically a stranger but used to be one of your best friends.

Soon after, he called you and you answered reluctantly, “Hello?” He asked, his voice suddenly bringing you to tears.

“(Y/N)? MG, are you alright?” You sobbed louder, sniffing and slurring your next words.

“Mmm alright, Ny.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t ya?” He sighed, ultimately feeling like he was the one that got you into this mess, “Send me your address. I’m comin’ over.”

“No, no,” You groan, rolling over on your stomach, “Niall, please, I’m fine.”

“(Y/N),” He started again, causing you to protest for a good five minutes before he sighed.

“(Y/N)-“ He began, never really getting to finish what he said.

“Niall, if everyone sees us, what if they make assumptions and I’m just slandered again and I’m really fine I couldn’t care less and-“

“Let me drink with you,” You stopped in your tracks at his offer, “I’ll bring pizza over, yeah?”

The promise of pizza made you cave, and you gave him your address in a heartbeat.

“I’ll be there in 30. Hang in there,” The phone hung up after, leaving you staring at the wall for five more minutes before your blood ran cold.

Fuck.

Niall would be there in 25.

You ran all over the house, petrified, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Throwing some dirty clothes in your laundry room, locking it, you looked everything down before hopping into the shower.

The shower couldn’t have been long, but the bell rang just as you hopped out. Panic set in your bones, “Be there in a minute, Ny!”

You slipped on an oversized sweater, one that actually did belong to Harry and placed some shorts under it, rushing to the door.

With beer and pizza in his hand, he smiled worriedly and more so when you sobbed, hugging him tightly while he did his best to with things in his hands.

“I missed you so much,” By now, it was an ugly cry, missing the warmth of a friend.

You’d isolated yourself this entire time and everyone gave you space which was great, but you craved warmth and love. Taking his sent in, you sighed and wiped your nose with the long sweater.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for agreeing at pizza,” He teased and finally stepped in, “I’m sorry about everything, darlin’.”

“Ah, it’s whatever,” You led him to the couch where he placed the pizza box on the coffee table.

“It’s not. I hate him for that,” Running a hand through his hair, he smiled at you, “We’ll forget about it just for tonight, okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip to hold your tears in.

The topic of Harry came up a couple of times, especially with the more beers you drank, but it never hurt your mind now. Niall didn’t smoke at all, but wasn’t opposed when you pulled out a bedazzled dab pen and hit it a few times.

He was always a heavyweight, and you weren’t at all surprised when you were off your ass and he just laughed at you.

The night consisted of dancing to old music you hadn’t heard in forever, weird food combinations, trying to outdo each other at gymnastics, and even making fun of Harry.

The playlist had just changed from Usher, causing your dancing to stop as a slow song began to play. As if on instinct, the two of you pulled each other close and danced.

Sighing heavily after your last giggle, you leaned on his dress shirt, his scent making you at peace as you swayed to the music, “Thank you, Ny.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N).”

You don’t expect much when you look up at the Irish man, but upon your eyes meeting, your heart flutters a bit. You assume it’s the alcohol and shake your head internally. His eyes are just as fixed on you as yours are on him.

“(Y/N)…” He breathes, the name rolling off his tongue like it was the only thing it was made to do.

A best passes, and you partially prepare yourself for his lips to land on yours, but he closed his eyes and smiles to himself before looking back at you, “It’s late. Y’should sleep, darlin’.”

You protest but it ends in a yawn, making him smirk at you in the same way he did way back then.

“Let’s go, sleepyhead, I got cha,” Niall wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you.

He helped you sink into the bed, putting a bucket beside it for the morning before grabbing his keys and pulling the covers over you.

The clock read 2:48 AM and while you knew Niall wasn’t very drunk, you but your lip and asked, “Please don’t leave.”

It was more of a beg, but it didn’t matter anyway. He nodded, “Sure, (Y/N).”

Your eyes are even more half lidded, snuggled under the blankets before realizing something. Without much thought, you slip your sweater off, revealing your black bra underneath, making Niall snap his body in the opposite direction.

You giggled, a mix of THC and alcohol in your veins, “It’s okay, Ny. I trust you. Here.”

He turned slowly, his eyes avoiding your chest, “What’ll you wear?”

Your eyes scan the dresser before they lead up his chest and you notice his collarbone sticking out, “Can I…wear that?”

He takes it from your hand with a nod, “Of course.”

It’s a soft, dark brown dress shirt that somehow feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. Niall faced away from you and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing his bare back to you. You can’t help but stare at his shoulder blades, the dip in his back or the small freckles on his pale skin.

With his eyes closed, he handed you the shirt and pulled on the sweater, sliding out of his pants into his boxers, “Tell me when ya ready.”

You took off your bra and shoved it under the bed, placing the long shirt on you and buttoning it up until five down from the collar, revealing a bit of your chest. You didn’t care, though, you were far too lazy.

“Ready.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Niall froze too, eyes fixated on your skin under his shirt, innocently giant on your small form.

You had a way of making him blush.

He did his best to hide it, sliding into bed with you and putting pillows in between you to divide the bed, something you’d done as teens, too.

“Thank you, Ny.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N),” Silence filled the air for a minute, “(Y/N)?”

But you had already fallen asleep.

The next morning, you awoke with your head elevating slowly before coming back down, fingers in your hair. You felt at home there, on his chest as he snored happily.

Your head hurt terribly, but you’d grown used to it these couple of days. Not wanting to wake Niall, you slithered out of his arms and made you way toward the kitchen. Your arm had almost reached for the ice coffee, but there was a whole jug of orange juice with a stick note on it.

(Y/N). Orange juice is best for a hangover. Trust me, I know.

;) Nialler

You smiled softly to yourself and poured yourself a cup, drinking it slowly before going out to get your mail. There wasn’t anything important, but it was a simple task, and the only thing that you could still muster to do.

“MG, awake already?” Niall’s voice rang through the house, setting foot in the kitchen afterward.

You giggled, “It’s 2PM, Niall.”

With a chuckle, he stretched, “Ya feelin’ okay?”

“Mhm, actually. I think I needed that.” Putting the paper aside, you turn to him, “We need to catch up. When are you free?”

He tilted his head to the side, pondering his schedule before he smiled again, something you noticed he did often, “For you, whenever.”

His phone rang shortly after, cueing his time to leave.

“That’s my manager. He wants me to check out this new studio, though I’m supposed to be visiting my cousins here,” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “I’ll catch up with you, okay? I’ll text ya.”

“Ny, don’t you want your shirt back?” You asked quietly, not really wanting to give it back.

“It’s yours,” He took a step toward you, “Looks better on ya than me.”

Softly, he placed a kiss on your cheek and exited. You could have sworn you’d never felt anything so soft.

You were in the shower when the media first started to suspect it. Your friend Lila texted you an image of an article with the message, “(Y/N), I think you’ve broke the internet.” There, in big bold letters:

HARRY/(Y/N) SPLIT UPDATE: (Y/N) Seen In Mystery Man’s Shirt

As luck would have it, a few days later you’d see an article talking about Harry’s sweater Niall was seen wearing out that same day.

Well…

It wasn’t long until he was coming over nightly. Weekly meetings turned into daily, turned into overnight meetings.

Truthfully, there’d always been a spark there. Despite the curly-haired man dumping you a month prior, the moment you rekindled with Niall, you noticed something - a rare spark in the rain.

Each meeting ended in his kissing you on the cheek and finally waving goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were head over heels for this man. You remembered that exact moment. Around a year had passed since the breakup and it only hurt occasionally, especially when the press pestered you or you saw news about Harry.

Niall had invited you to a show he was doing near your apartment, offering up a front row seat and dinner at his hotel after.

Using it as an excuse to doll yourself up, you agreed and slipped on your favorite outfit before being escorted and driven by someone of Niall’s staff.

He was a tall man, kind of scary, if you were honest, but he was sweet and apparently a family man, going on and on about his husband and son.

By the time the concert came around, you’d already taken several pictures with fans, though many actually seemed to be in favor of you attending the concert, one even ranting about something that sounded an awful lot like the mixing of your name.

When you asked about it, she pulled up multiple accounts on Instagram, all dedicated to your history and pass times with Niall. You blushed, insisting that the two of you were just really good friends, knowing that they were the last people you’d probably want to know.

Screams erupted when the music for Flicker started, a song you’d always been fond of. It made Niall giggle sheepishly before thanking the crowd.

“Actually,” His voice echoed through the venue, “This song means a lot to me. Tonight I’m performing it for someone special.”

Screams came once more, and the girl who had showed you the accounts squealed, insisting that the song was in fact for you.

She eventually left you alone when another girl began talking to her and pulled her away from you (thankfully).

It was a soft and gentle song. As he kept singing, your skin produced goosebumps, the crowd swaying with his emotion. His eyes closed, his voice fondled every word carefully, you watched in awe.

Your mouth stood slightly agape, heart fluttering when his eyes opened and he looked directly at you. A gentle stare, full of longing and love. Of a history.

You knew the next line and mouthed it carefully, “Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep…Please don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

He closed his baby blues again, a soft smile on his face, obviously proud of him as he felt all the butterflies in his stomach find their way out of his body.

You’d slipped backstage after the show, finding Niall with ease and wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Niall!” You exclaimed, “That was wonderful!”

Running toward him, he wrapped his arms around you and spun you around, “I’m so glad ya liked it, darlin’.”

“I loved it!” You stared up at him with doe eyes, “And, um…Thank you for that song.”

You kissed his cheek subtly, causing him to turn red, though if you asked him about it, he’d say it was just hot and he had preformed for a little over two hours.

He bit his lip, obviously holding something back before his look softened, “Of course.”

You’d learn soon after what he meant to say, at dinner he had spoken, making you freeze in place.

“Flicker was written about you,” He suddenly said, reminding you of his habit of speaking abruptly.

You took your eyes from the view on the tall building and looked at him, “Huh?”

It was almost breathless, watching his baby blues avoid you, “It was written about you.“

Your heart melts itself right into your hand right at that moment, feeling the urge to go and just hold him.

“I want to be with you, (Y/N). Always have.”

Emotions run through you like things you’ve never felt before. You’re scared, excited, happy, sad, angry at the fact that you’ve been missing out on someone who was so sweet, who smelt of rain and sandalwood and the musk of someone so kind to the Earth.

Your lips finally manage to push out, “It’s like I’ve been waiting to hear that my whole life.”

Niall cupped your face, bringing it closer to him, not struggling against the small table. When your lips finally meet, it’s not anything like before at all. This kiss is different.

It’s not exciting in a way that makes you feel sick. It’s comfortable and kind and reassuring and safe.

Outside the huge window to the left of you, in the rain there’s a flash. Paparazzi.

“Oops.” Niall chuckles, pulling apart before turning his attention toward you again, resting his forehead on yours.

You met Harry again during an after party. He stood against the wall next to the bar of the venue, chewing on his lip. You hadn’t seen him at first, but then you locked eyes.

Trying to avoid him, you turned, only to feel his hand on your shoulder, “(Y/N)…Wait…”

You faced him with a fake smile, “Hey, H.”

He smiled back, feeling his tension release itself, “How have you been?”

“Great, really,” Taking a sip of your drink, you continued, “Finally learned how to drive.”

You lied, wanting him to think you were better off without him.

“Oh,” He glanced over at Niall who was talking to two guys, “So…him?”

You nodded, “Yup. That’s my boyfriend.”

Rocking on the heels of your feet, you looked down, “Camille seems nice, too.”

He shook his head, getting straight to the point, “I miss you.”

You but your lip, “Harry, that’s a lie…I know that. You told me yourself.”

He held your hand, placing it over his heart, “I mean this, love. I’ve been so empty without you.”

Your cheeks flushed red before you snapped out of it, “Harry, you have a girlfriend. Please…I can’t do this…Not to Niall or Camille or even myself. I’ve spent so much time crying over you.”

He felt pressure on his temples.

How often did you cry yourself to sleep because of him?

You made a hasty exit, joining your boyfriend, his arms wrapping around you as you snuggled into them, glancing at Harry every once in a while.

Harry found out later through magazines that you still didn’t know how to drive. Niall drove you everywhere and you were alright with it. Under any circumstance, he’d think it was cute, but now his veins went icy, knowing you’d lied.

When you realized it was love, it was different.

You were in a private booth, supporting your boyfriend of now a year when he called a fan out during Slow Hands.

The fan was carried up the stage, being revealed as a young girl, maybe around eight. She whispered into Niall’s ear, rocking shyly before he smiled down at her and mouthed, “We’ll do it together.”

With their hands connected, he danced gently with the kid, letting her finish verses here and there, goofy smiles on each of their faces.

You could have swore your heart stopped then, watching as he handed her back to her mom and made sure she was okay.

When he got off of the stage that time, you awaited in his dressing room, locking the unsuspecting Niall in with you before he noticed.

“So you’ve been here,” He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt a bit to let himself cool off.

Slyly, you made your way toward him without a word, tracing his collarbones with your nails, “I love you.”

It was the first time you’d said it, afraid of an attachment bringing you down, but you’d replied with ‘Me too’s and ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you’s.

He froze simply, always being over affectionate, though it was something you loved.

“I love you.”

You kissed him passionately, your tongue dancing with his, backing him up into a counter.

Needing breath, you pulled away and replied, “I think we should have kids.”

A smile found its way to his lips before he hoisted you on the counter of the vanity, kissing you passionately with one goal in mind - to start a family.

Your shirt had found it’s way to the floor, your hands fixed on unbuttoning your boyfriend’s shirt before the door creaked open and something fell to the floor. Jumping up and pulling Niall toward you in an attempt to cover yourself, you squeaked. Niall giggled giddily, drunk on you before he noticed your pupils shrink, your body run cold, eyes fixated on the person behind him.

Harry. It was Harry.

Niall moved quicker than you’d ever seen him, wrapping you in a blanket you’d brought there earlier, turning back to his old friend.

“Erm, maybe I should just go…” Harry glanced down at the flowers he’d dropped, “I just came to congratulate you…You know…for your new album coming soon, and all.”

“No, no,” Niall smiled softly at his friend, “Look, just give (Y/N) a second here, alright? Let’s go outside.”

“Right. Sorry, MG.”

And with a kiss on your forehead, Niall was gone.

Niall had never seen Harry so distraught. As soon as the door closed, Harry’s eyes became red and watery.

“Ah…” Niall sighed, crossing his arms, knowing what was coming, “You didn’t come here for me, hm?”

With guilt, Harry’s head shook, “I…”

“I still love her.”

His voice quivered and he struggled to compose himself.

“Harry…” Niall was sympathetic, eyebrows dipped in worry, “You broke up with her, mate.”

“I was stupid, I know. I was just- I wasn’t used to not having that hunger that we had when we started, it scared me, I thought that I was wasting youth and, and-“

Running a hand through his hair, the shorter tapped his foot, “Jeez, Haz…”

“You know that’s normal, right? It just means you’ve never loved anyone before her. Love comes in phases. Honeymoon, or in this case, ‘hunger,’ is first, it lasts for a while. It’s when you can’t stop thinking about this person. Everything comes back to them. But it doesn’t last.”

Harry listened intently, biting his nails, “Then comes the Settling Down stage. You begin to notice small things that irk you, differences you hadn’t noticed. It scares you. After that is the Disappointment phase. The differences seem bigger than they are. You get scared. Maybe it doesn’t feel like love, but it is just as much as the hunger. That’s where you gave up, Harry.”

Fiddling with his rings, Harry avoided eye contact as if it were a disease, “If you’d continued, you would have seen that it is love. You’d accept it and it would feel normal. That’s the Comfortable stage. The Unconditional Love stage is last. That’s when you know what you’re in for. That’s when you last forever, mate.”

“Seems like you’re going through them all alone.”

Harry bit his lip, “Please.”

“Huh?” Niall puzzled.

“Please let me have another chance, Niall. I know it’s selfish but…I need her.”

Closing his eyes, the older of the two sighed a long breath, whispering so (Y/N) wouldn’t hear, “Harry…I’m proposing to her tomorrow. She just told me she wants us to have kids.”

He didn’t feel the tears run down his face until they dropped down to his hands. He made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Look, Harry, I have to go, but keep in touch, okay? And try to make things right with (N/N). She doesn’t deserve this.”

Swiftly, he left, leaving Harry to himself.

Niall found you soon after, sitting in the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, trying to get your ex out of your mind. In his arms, you forgot everything.

You’d find yourself pregnant in the upcoming months, the pregnancy going over well before it happened.

You sat in bed, caressing your overgrown belly, carrying the six month old fetus, as your phone beeped.

LILA: (Y/N). Look at this.

Attached was a link, a throwaway YouTube account, and there, in big, bold letters.

Leaked Harry Styles Song - Hunger

You couldn’t help but listen to it, finding your eyes swell with tears.

Niall was gone for the time being, doing interviews, leaving you alone. Wallowing in the past.

“I lost my taste for the good in us,” His voice was so raw, painful, noting everything from the hunger to the lying.

And he was sorry.

You sniffed, beginning to sob wildly. The mix of unbalanced hormones made the nostalgia hit harder, and for just a moment, you thought, ‘What if he means it? What if everything turns out okay and you can be just like before?’

Blindly, you dialed his number without much thinking, knowing that by now, he’d have found out of the leak of the personal song. You could tell that it was never meant to be shared, and yet, through tears, you wanted to let him know how much it meant.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice hopeful and it sounded like he’d been crying, too.

But all you could do was press the red button to hang up, anxiety getting the best of you.

Just what were you supposed to do now?

You cried into your hands, not knowing what was right anymore.

On one hand, you had an amazing fiancé, a baby, and an upcoming wedding. A picture-perfect life.

But on the other, the prince of your dreams was there, ready to sweep you away, countless adventures under his belt, ready to show you everything, the risky sides, the passion.

Had you made a mistake?

No, Harry had.

Or maybe, if you love something and set it free, only to have it come back, then maybe it was meant to be?

“Fuck,” You hiccuped, remembering the lyrics as you rested your head against the headboard, eyes closed, “Fuck.”

Maybe now, you thought, just a flicker of hunger for that life remained in your heart.

[roweicons]

like or reblog if you save

[sparkrls]

Must Be Love | Chapter 4 is out now!

[sammiknowss]

This is a really big part in my series of One Direction one-shots called 'Wound in Ivy.' It would mean the world to me if you would check it out and let me know what you think!

[lwteroda]

heelp

[naughtycurls]

And then she made my lips hurt

(Boxer Louis Tomlinson and Model Harry Styles)

Louis threw a rough blow at the man’s cheek, causing his head to fling back. There was three minutes left on the clock, and although he was winning, he still wanted to go overboard just for the sake of himself. It’s nice to see him on the tabloids. 

It seems like the punch threw Malcom back into the game because the next thing he knew he was kneed in the stomach by the opponent. If this was fetus Louis, when he first started out, he would have doubled over, but of course he’s grown from that.

His quick reflects allowed him to catch Malcom’s leg right after the throw and flip him over, he got on top of him and began punching him harshly in the face — enough for his mouthpiece to fly out. The clock buzzed and the referee blew his whistle, calling the game over.

Louis grins as his arm is lifted up, showing his victory. Matches were always his favorite and the feeling of accomplishment. After almost everyone left the room, he helped Malcom off the floor, shaking his hand. “Good game.”

His mother always asked him why he enjoyed beating men for a living and he honestly doesn’t even have an answer for himself, but it’s a passion he’s had for years now. And it’s a way to take out his anger, with violence— but now illegal violence. You get his point?

Back in the locker rooms it smelt like the usual odor of sweat and blood, and literal balls. Louis wipes his face down with a wet cloth, fresh out the shower. He only had a few bruises along his jaw, but it would heal quickly. He doesn’t let himself get touched too easily.

‘S where he got the name The Panther.  

Louis pulled his shirt over his head, spitting into the sink. Liam entered the room at that moment, patting his back. “Good game.” 

The boxer hums. “Thanks. But I would have appreciated it if you’d say that when I’m actually dressed.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “You’re just in your knickers and I’ve seen you naked a thousand times, you’re fine.” Louis winks. “I know I am.”

“Oh, quit being so childish just for a moment!”

Louis finally shut up and Liam sighed in relief. “As I was saying, you know Zayn is having a wedding, correct?”

“Zayn’s getting married?!” 

“Oh my god, that’s been known for months now! It’s almost been a year!” Liam exasperates. Louis chuckles as he watches his friend’s distress, grabbing his coat. “I’m kidding, Li. Of course I remember.”

Liam sighs. “Great. So you need a date, and that’s where I come in.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Where in that equation do you come in? Do you plan on being my date? That’s so sweet of you.” He replies, squeezing the brunette’s cheek. Liam slaps his hand away angrily, his eyebrows drawn. 

“No, you idiot. Gigi has a friend and her name’s Harry. She’s a model, I’m sure you’ll like her. I’ve met her a few times, she’s pretty nice?”

“Got good pussy?”

Liam punches him.

Louis scowls, rubbing his jaw. “I was just kidding, jesus.”  

“Don’t kid like that again. It’s rude to say stuff like that. Now, you already know when the wedding is, you just have to arrive with her and meet her properly. Don’t be a dick.”

Louis dabbed his skin with a wet cloth, snorting. “My mum raised me better than that.”

“Yeah, and she also taught you about violence. Doesn’t seem like that worked well.”

“Oi, shut the fuck up.”

***

Louis thinks he’s watched enough Vogue and Jimmy Fallon interview to know how his date is like. Surely Youtube isn’t going to help him, but it’s good to be prepared. By 2pm Louis got himself dressed in the tuxedo Liam bought him, he folded the collar of his dress shirt and stared at himself through the mirror, trying to flatten out his hair in the mirror.

His phone rung on his bed and he leans over to grab it, seeing Liam’s name flash across the screen. “Yello.” He greeted. 

He can hear Liam’s sigh of disapproval through the phone. “Zayn’s sending a limo for us to come in, so no need to worry about picking Harry up.”

“Fancy.” He comments, letting his phone rest on his shoulder. He worked on fixing his tie, which he could never seem to figure out. 

“Yeah, whatever. Anyways, the driver should be coming to pick you up shortly.”

“Alright, thanks.” Louis hangs up the phone and stiffs it back into his pocket. He grabs his golden Rolex watch off of his dresser and clasps it onto his wrist, smirking at the jewelry on his skin. He then grabs his ray bans and pushes it onto his face. 

The doorbell rings throughout his house and he clicks his tongue, leaving the bedroom. He spots the dark black limousine parked on the curb and walks towards it, he doesn’t expect for a chauffeur to come out and open the door for him, but he reminds himself that Zayn and Halle are extra like that. 

“Thanks.” He mutters. Once he climbs into the car he sighs, and hears Jade’s snickers from across him. She’s cuddled up to Perrie’s side as she giggles behind her hand. He knows she’s referring to the sunglasses on his face, so he simply flips her off. 

“Harry’s going to the wedding herself.” Liam whispers.

“Why?”

“Her manager doesn’t allow her to ride with so many people.”

 Louis raises an eyebrow. “What are they, her parents?”

“Well…” Liam leans closer. “I’m not supposed to tell you this but I suppose you should know since she is going to be your date. Basically she came from a super catholic family, and they made her father’s friend her manager.” 

Louis scrunches up his face. “I’d cry if I were her.”

“She is pretty sneaky, I’ll her that.” Liam murmurs. The ends of Louis’ lips curl at the remark. “How sneaky are we talking?”

“Louis shut the hell up.”

“What’d he do now?” Perrie asks.

The wedding was nice, very Halle and Zayn. It was garden themed, pink flowers and green plants everywhere. The good thing was that it didn’t smell like pollen and water. 

He of course congratulated Zayn after and shared a few drinks with him until Liam approached him, pulling him by the shoulder. “I think your date deserves some company.” He whispers. Louis snapped his fingers. “That’s what I was forgetting.”

“Just go get her.” He huffs out, moving Louis in the direction of the girl. She was in a pink dress, as of every bridesmaid and woman, but her dress seemed to transcend every else’s. It probably would have been a bad thing if it weren’t for the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous. 

“She looks better than the interviews.” Louis says, studying her. 

“You watched interviews?” The boxer ignores Liam’s question in favor of pushing him away, grinning. “Enough of that, Li. I’m going to get laid tonight.”  

He doesn’t wait for Liam’s reply. He walks towards Harry, who’s currently leaning against a bar, nursing a glass of wine. Just as Louis’ getting closer, literally out of nowhere, a tall bulky man stops him. “Shit, you scared me, mate.”

He doesn’t laugh. “Where do you think you’re going.”

Harry snorts from behind him, lightly pushing him. “It’s fine, Paul. That’s my date.” 

Paul raises an eyebrow. “Robin didn’t inform me of any dates.”

“Well… that’s because I didn’t tell him about any dates.” Harry says, smiling. 

Paul disregards her answer with a shake of his head, backing away. Her eyes settle back on Louis, bright and green, with a vibrant smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for four hours.”

“I kind of forgot I had a date, sorry.” Louis breathes out. Harry hums as she takes a sip of her wine, painting her lips crimson.

[iremembermorethaniknow]

HOW TO BE A GOOD BROTHER

1. Never want. Never want for anything beyond the walls of the house. Never want for anything but the beating hearts around you, make them your only lifelines, make them your only signal up on Mars. Learn to forget what the world outside is like. You won’t be able to see the sun but you will see the dust it leaves behind. 

2. Fight your father. Fight your father so he doesn’t fight your other brothers. Punch him before he punches you, your skin colliding with white teeth. Do not under circumstances let your father forget the blood on his hands. When he tries to wash it off, spill more of it. Fight your father so you don’t become him. If you get blood on your own hands, just ignore it. 

3. Tread softly. When it rains you can scream as loud as you want. At night, step around the broken glass. Close the door without the hinges creaking. Tiptoe past the sleeping monster in the master bedroom and don’t wake your brothers up. (They are awake, too, even if you’d rather think otherwise. They are drinking from the same bottle as you. You can’t save them, no matter how hard you try). 

4. Take the fall. Take the fall when your father opens your door. Take the fall when he reaches out for you, blindly, in the night. Take everything. Don’t question it. Take the fall even when your brothers try to take it for you, until you’re all screaming that it’s your own fault. Hide your bruises from each other even when you all know they’re there. Punch anyone that gets too close and apologize later. Offer to clean their wounds and don’t let them clean yours. 

5. There are no excuses. When you look in the mirror and find it cracked, keep looking yourself in the eye. Know that the blood in the sink isn’t just yours. Sink into the floorboards and drink as much as you want, but wash it all away after. Straighten the couch cushions without being told. Learn to stay quiet as your brothers laugh. Learn to scorn the scrapes on their knees. Learn that your job is not to be a child. It never has been. 

6. You inherit the haunted house. Watch from the window as your brothers leave. Watch them disappear into the sun and love them even more with their backs finally turned. Dream of where they are now and try not to call too often. You will plan all the funerals from here on out. You will have to bury them twice every summer. 

7. If you must ache, ache from the inside out. Keep it to yourself for as long as possible. Forget about your face cut out of the family portraits and don’t think about why you deserve it. Everyone turns into their father eventually; you just did it sooner. Don’t reach out. You’ll get no answer. Tear yourself off the couch and walk up the steps every night. The floorboards creaking will only sound like them. 

8. Try not to hate them. Try not to love them too much, either.

[sinligh]

Stable.

a presence that changes nothing I control nothing,

Not the rhythm of my breathing Nor that of my emotions.

I share my blood with a phantom of melancholy, a tempered shadow that shields me from grief

I sacrifice, as all women learn to do;

In this life, you either choose violence, or it comes knocking at your door

until your heart starts beating with its rhythm, erratically.. until you’re “hysterical”

But what woman hasn’t been called that at least once in her life?

today, i scheduled an appointment with death first thing in the morning

physiological or metaphysical, what difference does it make ?

around 4 hours between time and space.

I haven’t slept yet, this is my Eurydice and I know better than to look back; but I’m weighed down with grief, and rage alike.

what colors does it take? sometimes i believe it to be the exact shade of my eyes, dark brown, like blood that’s been accumulating under a layer of skin for too long

Or chocolate like...

I think I’ve tasted it; a lucid dream..

an early state of decomposition a tree with branches that are made of coping mechanisms and abandoned reveries taking up the place of my lungs

Grief like, it grows just as much as i do.

my age now is double what It was when i first discovered what grief means…

a decade of steps that i took while i try to redefine it, this time it felt like :

your last step was my first and now I live everything halfway through because I’m always concerned: what if I’m not missing you.

a lifetime of me trying to accept it, like a foreign organ that my body kept on rejecting until it failed, in a random day; and built it’s walls all around it

life with a core of undeniable death…

that’s the beginning of all that i am,

an exsanguination.

and at my weakest, i resent you for leaving me with no other option..

I don’t know when it happened, but subconsciously, I started associating the day I lost you with the day i was born

my reincarnation, unwillingly.

All those terms... bloodstains that I must leave behind

A temperament gene. Isn’t it clear ?

I stand still in the past, where my vulnerability lies in a grave

with all the unknown. and I think my greatest regret

was thinking that i needed more time, to come up with a language that we both understand to tell you that l love you.

and that’s of little to no value..

I regret believing i had time, now as a redemption, I’ll forever live as a skeleton of fragmented existence underneath a flesh that’s sewed on with patches of half chewed rage.

•••

• Quotes: Sophocles/Caroline M. Mar/ Taylor swift/ Nicole W. Lee/ Sara Luisa Kirk/ Sylvia Plath/ Louis Tomlinson/ Emilie Autumn/ Fyodor Dostoevsky/ Franz Kafka/Forugh Farrokhzad,

• Original context: Sinligh

• Art reference:

1. Painting by William Adolphe Bouguereau. 2. The Mausoleum by the Phantom Painter. 3. Louis Janmot, Fleur des champs (details) 4. Despair by Bertha Wegmann 5. Tristan et Isolde (Death), Rogelio de Egusquiza

[debitellsuastory]

11.1.22

LOST AT SEA

If you asked me what is one of the things that helps me calm down, to disconnect, feeling at peace, I would tell you that nature, but among all that this entails, it would be the sea, I have no doubt.

Feeling the fresh breeze of the ocean, the singing of the water when the waves break, observing that deep and transparent blue that calls you to hug it...there are so many things that the ocean makes me feel, that I could spend hours talking about it .

When I want to feel these sensations, I do not go to this one, on the contrary, I look for you, even if you are not by my side, I lose myself in your essence, in your voice, in your soul, because I look into your eyes and I get lost at sea, in your sea, and there is no more pure and beautiful feeling than that, losing myself in the ocean of your eyes.

@debitellsuastory @uaresogolden28_