#fuck jeff azoff

[glowingadmirer]

Favorite H quote of Venice panel for DWD:

INT: I’d like to include the cast in how was to enter this world which is very much between reality and stylization, and maybe we can start with you, Harry.

H: Is this…[messing with microphone buttons] Um, yeah, I think it was, it’s fun to kind of get to play in worlds that aren’t necessarily your own, um, so kind of, you know, this world that’s supposedly so perfect, it’s um, it’s obviously really fun to play kind of pretend in it, and you know, it’s like driving fun cars, and a lot of fun stuff. 

So I think, uh, it’s kind of just nice to, like, I think we were looking to have that world kind of built so well around us that it meant we could kind of play, um, kind of in reality for us rather than like pretending that everything was, you know, nice, or…. It wasn’t too much like acting, I don’t think, in terms of in the world that you’re in, it was really kind of created very well for us, so that was really fun.

Gemma Chan attempts to rescue, says she agrees with Harry, and praises everyone – “set design, hair and makeup, cinematographers” except the director.

Chris Pine: pokes at his tongue, stares at ceiling, wills himself to be vanished, then gives a very thoughtful answer

It’s funny, but at the same time it isn’t.  Because it’s yet ANOTHER piece of evidence of Harry’s team’s mismanagement - and his own complacency in it. Harry’s team’s preferred strategy of having him prevaricate and be a blank slate for everyone to fill in the blank with their own fantasy. Radio DJs and music mags usually fill in the blanks for him and tease him, so it comes off as charming. Here, that strategy makes him appear “adorably slow” and certainly unprepared to be taken seriously.  At some point, if Harry wants to be taken seriously, he’s going to need to give more than pleasantly vague word salad answers. 

[firefighterdiass]

msg security calling H slurs and banning pride flags is homophobic in so many ways and i don't care for whatever reasons they come up with

i can't wait for her to finish touring honestly, she deserves way better than this

ANOTHER THING TO BLAME ON JEFF

[tomlinsonandtits]

Been playing the leaks on repeat, particularly the way I do cos whew it's been a day and a half and my heart feels so fucking heavy for H and every single closeted person in hollywood. Fuck this industry 🖕🏼

[daisiesonafield-blog]

yet another way I cannot relate to Jeff

[hopeeternal]

“It’s all for you Daisy girl”

The movie set on which you led the public to believe you cheated on her father and broke up the family? That movie set?

You have to be fucking kidding me. You are going to toss that one over to Daisy as if you did it for her?

“Mommy loves you so much that, for you, she cheated on your daddy and it’s all because of you that you now have to spend holidays separately”. Jesus fucking Christ, Olivia! Do you even think before you post?

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

https://twitter.com/freakjezbel/status/1553054987432955907?t=v5xw8RvHpUB3ugTzIjsKZA&s=19

lol

Just remember that according to Larries, Harry is “oppressed,” “closeted,” so this couldn’t possibly be Harry’s choice, right? He has no power!

So the color choices are all Jeff Azoff :)

(isn’t Pleasing Inc. owned by Azoff and distributed through Live Nation? Surely Jeff oversees its social media?)

Jeff and Louis and Harry must be best friends 😉😉 Jeff the Gay Enabler 🫥

No, but according to Harries, Louis is the one Larrybaiting by saying he loves Freddie 🥴🥴🥴 help

[sunshineindark]

.

[ifancyharry]

Ever since New York

what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?

September.

Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.

He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose. 

So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.

Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one. 

So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.

So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.

She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.

She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.

Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.

Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.

She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.

“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now. 

“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on. 

So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.

It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.

“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it. 

He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.

YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.

Plus,  if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.

“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.

When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them. 

She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them. 

Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.

When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”

...

YN wonders whether she should quit.

It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.

She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.

Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.

He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.

She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!

“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.

YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.

When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.

“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.

“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.

Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.

“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.

He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.

He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.

“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.

YN knows she should definitely quit.

...

“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”

YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of. 

Things haven’t been easy. 

Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take. 

He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear. 

Today has been a long day. 

She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change. 

After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue. 

He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did. 

It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean. 

She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?

It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty. 

It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show. 

Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!

“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!” 

She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall. 

“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly. 

YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!” 

She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes. 

Finally. 

She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left. 

Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot. 

She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering. 

She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with. 

It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day. 

It had been a long day. 

…

it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first. 

So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door. 

He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her. 

Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends. 

As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him. 

He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling. 

YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him. 

He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him. 

She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying. 

It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad. 

“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view. 

“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running. 

“I don’t know” she ponders. 

“Please, YN” 

She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in. 

She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging. 

“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. 

YN doesn’t know what happens next. 

She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying. 

She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out. 

She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her. 

“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids. 

Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly. 

She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts. 

To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her. 

“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude” 

“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest. 

She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily. 

“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words. 

“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job” 

“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that. 

“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault” 

“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits. 

“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way” 

“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds. 

“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped” 

“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks. 

“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.

“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.

“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?” 

October

“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child. 

YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again. 

The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween. 

It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff. 

He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y. 

So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks. 

“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch. 

“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas” 

YN has to refrain herself from laughing. 

“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face. 

“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly. 

“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows. 

“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year. 

He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless. 

He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”. 

“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots. 

“Wow… that clearly is something…” 

“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again. 

“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them. 

YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately. 

Everything is green. 

…

Harry is hiding something. 

He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them. 

But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something. 

It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep. 

Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish. 

If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!) 

“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.

“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body. 

“I bet” he chuckles. 

“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.

“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”

“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten” 

“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.

“What are ye watchin’?” 

“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.

“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him. 

“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!” 

“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

“No, not in that sense at least”

“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”

She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them. 

The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile. 

She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means. 

…

It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding. 

Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back! 

That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!” 

“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly. 

He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.” 

And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning. 

That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.

“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly. 

YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do. 

She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her. 

She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes. 

“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.

She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him. 

“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”

YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.

“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun” 

“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”

“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.

She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!” 

“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.

YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.

“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.

“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”

“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”

YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”

“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”

“Yeah, you would” she agrees.

Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.

Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”

“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem. 

He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”

They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her. 

Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning. 

“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.

“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”

“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.

He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.

She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.

The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.

She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.

“Better?” He asks.

“Much better.” 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”

“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”

He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.

She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot. 

“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words. 

She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.

She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming. 

She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything. 

It’s just a compliment. 

Like a friend would to another. Right? 

…

It’s not easy to avoid your boss. 

Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him. 

On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.

And he’s many things all together. 

And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later. 

On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!! 

She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.

“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.

“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.

He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!” 

“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.

“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.

“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.

She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.

“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.

She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.

“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”

“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively. 

YN would really like to say yes. She really would. 

“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”

“Yeah of course” he shrugs.

He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.

“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”

“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”

She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”

“I’m not saying anything”

“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”

“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”

“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”

“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”

“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.

“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.

“He’s literally my boss”

“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.

“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”

“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”

“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.

She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.

Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.

It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.

…

“I need you to do my makeup”

It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume. 

His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.

Well, turns out, it is hard. 

So, YN was really his last hope. 

That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it. 

He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him. 

“What!” She says before even checking who it was.

“I need you to do my makeup”.

That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them. 

She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!

but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?

This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!

“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out. 

“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.

She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.

He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Hold your hair for me please” 

He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.

YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin. 

Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.

She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.

“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).

“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.

He nods, “I’d like that”.

“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair. 

“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.

She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.

“All done!” 

He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.

Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.

YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more. 

“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.

“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!” 

She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.

She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!” 

This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.

The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).

He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.  

From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.

“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.

He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.

“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.  

She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.

She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.

“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.

“It’s okay, no problem at all!” 

…

It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel. 

A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.

She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.

She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.

When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.

He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him. 

“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”

She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after. 

“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”

She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”

He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”

“I don’t follow?”

“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”

“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.

She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.

“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”

She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.

He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.

“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.

She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”

“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.

What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.

Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.

Because he had been a dick.

So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).

YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”

“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”

YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest. 

She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.

She doesn’t think he likes her like that.

Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…

She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.

“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.

“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.

“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him. 

“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers. 

“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good” 

“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”

She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”

...

“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“ 

It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.

She must be so tired.

He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.

He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.

He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.

The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought. 

it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!! taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts

[izacore]

[lemonade-soul]

fuck the azoffs and fuck this shit

[meetmymouth]

i’m on the roof...

warnings: coke mention. angst with no happy ending (for now). mentions of cheating. love fucks you up!

“You need to come, now.”

She looks at the contact name once again, taken back by the fact that Jeff Azoff is calling her in the middle of the night.

Sure, it wasn’t as though they weren’t friendly– they were friends, but she always felt like Harry had gotten all the friends in his corner in their breakup. Jeff, Glenne, Tom… she knew they were his friends first, and that she was only introduced to the little group after they started hanging out, but in that short amount of time, they all became close friends.

“What?” She can’t help but stutter. “Where?”

“To ours. I know you’re in LA… it’s sort of an emergency.”

She shakes her head, and looks at the man watching him from the kitchen island, a cup of tea in hand. “I don’t understand… why?”

“Y/N, just come. Please.”

She lets out a sigh. “I’m not coming unless you’re telling me what’s going on,” she makes eye contact with the man, and he sends her a smile, as if trying to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t help.

Jeff swears under his breath.

“It’s Harry.”

She touches her bottom lip with her thumb and index finger, pinching the skin.

She doesn’t want to see him.

Not after everything.

It’s been a while since she’s heard his name– it’s been a long time since they’ve been each other’s problems.

They’ve both moved on. At least, she tried.

“What’s– why, I don’t understand.”

“He’s on the roof– keeps cursing your name,” Jeff mutters. “He’s been acting weird, although I’m guessing it’s the coke. I can’t– we can’t go near him, he won’t let us.”

She shakes her head. Her heart breaks, hearing how he’s doing coke again.

With a cold stare at the marble kitchen island, she says, “It’s none of my business.”

“Please, Y/N.”

“Fuck– okay, okay, I’m coming.”

“Thank you,” she hears Jeff sigh. “Thank you– the gate will be open.”

An hour later, she finds herself at the gate.

She parks her car outside, because she is merely an outsider now. She walks in, and Jeff is at the door, phone in hand, the device lighting up his face under the mellow light.

“Y/N,” Jeff sighs in relief.

She notices he looks the same, and it brings back memories. Trying to ignore the feeling deep in her stomach, she nods, and walks inside, Jeff following behind. They walk up the stairs, and he stays behind, watching as she walks outside, finally reaching the roof.

There he is.

He’s dressed in a cosy looking jumper, and his hair falls to his forehead, almost looking like a little lion. He can make out the bags under his beautiful eyes, and when she looks down at his hands, she notices the rings missing, sans the one she gave him.

“Harry,” she whispers, when she notices him getting close to the edge.

He falters.

He stops his movements, and turns around, turns his whole face rather than letting her look at the side of his face.

He lets out a bitter chuckle, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. She follows the motion, gulping when his eyes find hers– he looks feral.

He doesn’t say anything.

She takes it as her cue to talk again.

“Harry,” she takes a step forward, still keeping her distance. “You’re acting like a crazy person, get down,” she nods at the step he’s standing on, very close to the edge.

If the wind hit him, she thinks, he might just fall.

“Fuck you,” Harry spits out. “Fuck you– fuck off.”

“Get down.”

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

She lets out a humourless laugh. “Jeff called.”

“And you came,” he murmurs into the night. There’s nothing soft about his tone.

“He’s scared shitless that you’re going to kill yourself and he’s going to have to explain it to the whole world,” she hugs her arms around her body, suddenly feeling the wind get to her.

Harry shakes his head, and sits on the step, instead of standing. “Leave me alone.”

“You’re being a child,” she tries again, trying to push his buttons.

Perhaps, she was being a bit mean.

But, she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about hurting him at the moment.

In fact, she wanted to hurt him– hurt him like he did to her.

Harry coughs into his fist, and looks up. “You would know about being a child.”

“Why are you doing coke again?” She tries to change the subject.

He looks up again, a boyish smile present on his face.

“Who said I’m doing coke?”

“Jeff, and well, you keep bringing it up in your songs. It’s a bit worrying if you ask me.”

“Like you care.”

She looks around, and spots a step, much like the one he’s sitting on. Despite the cold, she walks to it, and sits down, arms hugging herself. Harry watches like a hawk.

“You promised,” she murmurs. “You promised you wouldn’t do it as much. It’s coke, Harry– it’s not a joke. You’re ruining your life.”

“Please,” Harry sighs. “Stop acting like you care.”

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Why did you leave, Y/N?” Harry says, looking at her face.

“You ended it.”

He shakes his head. “No– that night, two months ago. You left.”

She thinks back to the hotel room, the messy sheets, the fifty-dollar bills on the nightstand, a broken vase, and the burgundy spill on the hotel carpet.

She feels sick, she feels the nausea in her bones.

Harry’s gaze is no help.

“I had to,” she says, voice quiet. She doesn't even know if he heard her until he lets out a chuckle.

“I asked you,” Harry gets up, and walks closer to her. He stops in front of her for a moment before kneeling there, sitting on his heels. “I asked you to stay, Y/N, the night before. You said– you said ‘yes’.”

“You asked me a lot of things,” she looks up at him, tears in her eyes. “You asked me a lot of shit that night, how– I didn’t think you wanted me to stay, not after everything.”

“I–”

“–It was a fucking mistake, Harry.”

He shakes his head, hair falling to his forehead. He reaches for her, but stops mid-movement. He places his hands on his thighs. “Not to me.”

“You cheated on your girlfriend.”

“Fuck!” He lets out a growl, getting back on his feet. She watches him walk back and forth, and he punches the wall before walking back to where she’s seated. “Like you cared, Y/N,” he shouts in her face, getting closer and closer to her– close enough for her to smell the alcohol in his breath. “You wanted it– we both did. I– I didn’t give a shit!”

“You’re still with her.”

“Y/N…”

“I can’t do this. Not when it hurts so much– not when you hurt me this much.”

“I love you,” it’s a promise.

She doesn’t think it’s enough.

Coming from him, it seems to be never enough.

“You don’t love me, Harry,” she shakes her head, letting out a sob. “You love the familiarity of me,” she bites her bottom lip.

“That’s bullshit. I love you. I still fucking love you, isn’t that enough?”

“Wasn’t it enough when I begged you to stay?”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his mess of a hair. “It was different back then.”

“It wasn’t. I loved you,” she tries, words leaving her mouth like broken pleas.

He looks up at that, eyes finding hers. “‘Loved’ me?”

“It doesn’t matter– it shouldn’t matter. I’m sick of this push and pull game,” she gets on her feet. Harry takes a step back when she takes one forward. “I’m sick of you wailing in your songs. I’m so sick of seeing you with her when you fucked me in that hotel room, knowing you would do the same with her the next day. I’m sick of you, Harry Styles– I’m sick of the effect you seem to have on me–”

Harry lets out a sob, vigorously drying his eyes with the back of his hand. “–You’re not sick of me,” he says, with a shake of his head.

“I deserve better.”

“I deserve you.”

“You do not deserve me. You left me. Told me I deserved better, then started seeing her the next month. You know what, Harry?” She whispers. “You were right– I do deserve better. Better than you.”

“I love you,” he sniffs.

She looks down at her shoes. “Maybe.”

“I wanted better for you,” Harry waves his hands around. “But I can’t– I can’t let you go, I can’t fucking do it. Not when it hurts this much.”

“You have to,” she takes another step back. “Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he takes a step back.

She stops, letting him catch up to her. He stops in front of her, toes almost touching. She shakes her head when he lets out another broken sob. Lifting her hand, she touches his cold cheek, feeling his stubble. She closes her eyes at the familiar feeling, getting lost in it.

Harry leans into it, and sniffs once more.

They open their eyes at the same time.

“You know I’ll never stop, right?” Harry whispers, touching her hand that is on his cheek.

She smiles, though it’s a broken one.

“You have to– we have to stop.”

“Don’t go,” he says, alert when she lets go of him, and starts walking backwards.

She laughs, tears falling down her cheeks.

“You need to let me go, Harry Styles,” she says, loud enough for him to hear through the wind.

[goongiveusnothing]

Harries are delusional. Ben, James, Jeff, Kid are his friends, they are his inner circle despite how much harries want to claim they’re not really that close personally. Bullshit. They work together, they vacation together, they spend time with each other’s families, they even act as godparents. Second, Harry has benefited every bit as much from these friendships as they have. The Azoff industry influence guaranteed his career by radio domination, icon star interviews since 2016, LiveNation connections, Stevie Nicks and Mick Fleetwood “adopting” him. Thanks to the Azoffs and Stringer, Harry’s next album will be a Grammy nominee whatever it sounds like. Ben executive produces the Grammys and gives Harry premier performance spots, one for which Harry sang shirtless in leather and the other that was a disaster. James may be a total ass but he is very well-connected in film, theater, TV in the US and England, has interviewed Harry repeatedly and Harry substituted in for James to host Late Night. Kid Harpoon wrote the music that won Harry his Grammys. Hell, some of the lyrics on “Harry’s” award winning album are about Kid’s wife. Harry is every bit as opportunistic as his friend group. They all benefit off of each other. Harry may give off a slow-talking, laid-back, stoner vibe but he is ambitious as fuck. Harries are crazy to victimize him but they’ll continue to do it to romanticize him.

absolutely.

i don't think many of them really deep down believe these men are sort of torturing or abusing him, i just think his fans want to convince other people of this to try and deflect the suspicions away from harry and make it seem like he's not really one of them to outsiders. it's sort of like larrie/gayrrie where they use his queerbaiting to hide what a creep and dick he is to women.

[kahluamystery97]

Satellite Chapter Two

TW: Disordered eating

Chapter Two (2018)

Martin Graves was a feared, old school Hollywood producer. While he hadn’t taken on a project in at least a decade he was still revered. His monthly garishly lavish cocktail parties were still well attended. The old guard and the new guard alike are there to network, find a job or maybe even some funding for a dream project.  Harry Styles was not part of the old guard, he didn’t need a job currently and he certainly wasn’t looking to get a project funded. So he wasn’t really sure how he got suckered into being here. He knew it involved his best friend Jeff Azoff doing a favor for his father, Irving. Jeff’s own fiancee Glenne had refused. Glenne had said, “Fuck off I’m not going for a night of being groped by a bunch of geezers.” Harry did not blame her one bit. Harry had already been groped by two saucy senior citizens tonight. 

The Graves house was untouched by time. It was opulent but in a very 1980’s way. Way too many heavy tapestries and window dressings. Lots of gold and brass. 

“Son, you really missed the good days. These broads today and the whole Me Too. You can’t do a damn thing or you get sued.” Lanny Smythe lamented. 

“No shit. Go up to any of these young actresses and pay them a compliment. Chrissakes. They will take out a full page ad in the Times crucifying you.” David Crumbe, a retired studio executive spat. 

Harry was 100% certain he did not want to have this conversation with these men. His eyes desperately searched around the room for a way out. Bingo. The gaudy mirrored, marble bar held the most beautiful sight. 

Maggie Dunne was behind the bar laughing hysterically with the bartender. They were mirroring each other with their arms up over their heads and shimmying their hips. The bartender looked down to his phone and then looked at Maggie. He excused himself and walked out the open doors to the patio. 

Harry knew this was his chance. 

"Will you excuse me?" Harry asked, shaking his empty glass at his companions as he motioned to the bar.

Maggie was pouring herself a whiskey.  She wiped down the work top in front of her and looked up when Harry put his glass down.

Maggie was most definitely drunk. She lost one contact lens and then abandoned the other so things were a little extra fuzzy around the edges but there was little doubt that the man in front of her was good looking. Curly brown hair, warm green eyes and pink pouty lips stood right out at her. His muscular shoulders and tall frame were just a bonus after that face. Where the hell did this hot young guy come from in a sea of creepy old men?

She straightened her back and smiled. "What can I get you?"

 "What's good? Do you perhaps have a specialty cocktail?" His plump pink lips turned up into a smile. 

"Of course. I'm a professional" Maggie lifted a clean glass from the back. She placed a large sphere of ice in the glass and poured a whiskey. The handsome stranger turned the wattage up on that smile and raised an eyebrow. "Wait for it. This bit makes it fancy."

Harry gestured for her to go on. He watched as she carefully placed a lime slice on the rim.

"Bloody brilliant," Harry cheered, giving her a small round of applause before picking up the drink.

Maggie clinked glasses with him before taking a sip. Harry knew who she was. I mean I guess if you had seen a movie in the last ten years you knew who Maggie Dunne was. The blonde hair, the long, lean, athletic body. The blinding bright white smile. She was stunning. They had definitely been in the same rooms, same awards shows, same after parties but they did not run in the same circles. Maggie was always seated by the other first name recognizable stars like Meryl, Julia, Reese, George, Leo and Brad. 

She had always seemed so untouchable but right now behind the bar she was so at ease. Clearly buzzed and happy. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. 

The bartender made his return by crashing in through the doors he had originally left out of. "I'm so sorry I abandoned you with the bar." He said slightly out of breath.

She smiled warmly at him and touched his forearm. “Don't worry about it. Everything ok now?"

"I think so. I hope so." He sighed. He shooed her from behind the bar and took notice of Harry. "Can I help you?"

"Your colleague helped me out." Harry said.

The bartender looked at Maggie with thanks and then back to Harry. "I hope you don't mind me saying 'Night Changes' is my forever karaoke song. Always a hit. Always reels them in."

Harry let a laugh out. "Glad I could help mate."

Maggie tried to clear the fog in her mind and place this man. A singer? A musician? A songwriter? Oh God had they met before? Fuck. This could get embarrassing. She had to get out of here. 

"I'll be back for a refill Keith. Need some fresh air." She gave a small wave and started out the doors towards a courtyard. The maybe stranger, maybe singer, maybe musician was on her heels. She shot her eyebrow up at him to ask why he was following her. 

"I realize I never got the recipe for this cocktail," He flirted, flashing a serious set of dimples her way. Harry followed her over to a spot by a small fountain and garden bench. 

The dimples and whiskey made her forget everything. Not that she knew anything before. Maggie sat back on the bench and slipped off the low heeled mules she was wearing and tucked her feet underneath herself. 

"Maggie." She offered her hand. 

"Harry." He delicately squeezed her hand. 

Maggie couldn't help but notice all the rings. "That is some serious hardware,"she nodded at his hands.

"Too much?" He cocked a brow and turned up the wattage on his smile. 

"Not at all. Better than some watch that costs as much as the house I grew up in. Men in Hollywood are really obsessed with their watches. I can’t help but think it somehow relates to their dicks." Now Harry’s eyebrows shot straight up and then he let out a belly laugh. “I mean what do I know? It isn’t a sound theory. I haven’t done any research on this.”

"Well I will keep that in mind.  Any other Hollywood cliches I should side step?"

"Influencers. Crypto currency. Blonde actresses." Maggie shrugged.

"Well I guess I'm thankful you are a blonde bartender then."

"Actually I'm retired. Keith was having boyfriend issues so I took one for the team."

"Unfortunate because you pour a damn fine drink." He raised his glass to her.

Maggie turned herself toward Harry. She was about to ask him more about himself or maybe she was just going to make a pass at him. She didn't get to do either because suddenly her phone went off. 

"Jesus." She yelped and pulled it out of the pocket of her green jumpsuit. Maggie stretched her arm out. It was her sister. She pulled the phone back away from her face and then closer. It was useless.  She looked over at Harry. "I should get the lasik. I'm a chickenshit though."

He laughed. "Can I help?"

"Mind reading this for me?"  She handed her phone to him with an embarrassed groan.

"Where the fu - um, Liza would like you to meet her out front." Harry said with his eyebrows raised as he took in the actual colorful language he edited out of the text.

Maggie laughed harder than she meant to.  "That is absolutely not what that says."

Harry took a deep breath and read aloud,  "Where the fuck did you disappear to? I wanted you to schmooze some of these old cunts. Now I’m tired and I want to go home. Out front in three minutes. DO NOT MAKE ME FIND YOU. That last bit was all in caps." He whistled. "So who is Liza?"

"Liza is my big sister. Her bark is way worse than her bite.." Harry handed Maggie the phone back. Maggie got up a little too quickly and stumbled forward. Harry caught her arm. "That last whiskey was probably a terrible idea." 

"In my experience it usually is. Why don't you let me walk you out. I mean I wouldn't want your sister to have to come looking for you."

"Very chivalrous of you. Thank you." They walked through the party and Maggie kept it moving. Just waving goodbyes, telling anyone who tried to stop them Liza was waiting. Harry was intrigued by this Liza who could seemingly inspire a twinge of fear in these Hollywood types.

Out the double front doors of the large Hollywood home stood a tall dark haired woman. Full figured, attractive. Same blue eyes as Maggie. As soon as she saw Harry she looked him up and down. Clearly unimpressed with him she did not even attempt to address him.

"Finally. I won't ask where you've been." Liza shot her sister a look. The chauffeured SUV pulled in front of them.

Maggie just shrugged. "Playing bartender and making friends."

"Well, say good night to your friend,the bartender. " Liza snapped and hopped into the back of the car.

Maggie looked at Harry and said with a smile and shrug of her shoulders, "She’s a charmer. Thanks for walking me out."

"Good night Maggie. Nice meeting you. Thanks for the drink."

She got into the car slowly so she could watch him wave her off. If she remembered any of this she was certain she was going to regret not taking him home. 

"For fucks sake Mags. The bartender?" Liza said not looking up from her phone.

"Since when are we too good to fuck a bartender?”

Liza let out a loud sigh and then a laugh. "OK I'm being a bitch. Rough day. That party was a shitty idea. Trying to sell that movie to that room full of fossils was a dumb idea. Literally a veritable who’s who of #MeToo in there."

Maggie took her sister's hand. "You work too hard."

"Says you. And seriously sorry about the bartender. You deserved some fun too. Want to go back and abduct him?" Liza asked, wiggling her eyebrows high on her forehead. 

Maggie laughed, "Nah. I'm too drunk for any of that. Also, he isn't a bartender. I think he is a singer or in a band. Something musical.  I didn't have time for all the small talk because of my raging bitch sister." Maggie gave Liza a nudge with her elbow.

"Yeah yeah. You'll get over it. Lots of pretty boys in the world. Why don't we pick one not in a band. Didn't you already do that once?"

 "Once. Twice. Who's counting?" Maggie certainly wasn't.

THE NEXT MORNING

A buzzing in the distance woke Maggie up. "Fuck." She groaned while fumbling around for her phone. She pressed the dismiss for the alarm. As soon as the alarm stopped a facetime call was buzzing in. Her hand hit the accept button quicker than she meant to. "Liza, whatever it is, has to wait another hour. I just need one hour to die and then I'll call you on my run."

Maggie found her glasses on the nightstand. She pushed the large black Prada frames up. Before she could even make out the face on the screen she heard the voice.

"So I'm not Liza." Harry said nervously in his deep British accented voice. 

Maggie ran a hand through her hair. She looked down to make sure she was clothed. Her tank top was pretty sheer but ok she was covered. 

"Uh hello. How did you get this number?"

"Well I'm a terrible person and I took it upon myself to take it when you gave me your phone last night." Harry pulled at his bottom lip nervously.

"Here you seemed so nice. I had no idea you were a creep." Maggie clicked her tongue. Maybe this was a creep move but she was drawn to that pink lip he was tugging on. Were his eyes this green last night? He might have been attractive last night while she was half blind.  Now though in the morning light with her glasses on he was distractingly good looking.

Harry panicked. Oh God did she think he was a creep? This was sort of a creep move. What possessed him to do this? Had a year with Colette taken him so far away from dating that he completely lost all game?

"Yeah I'm sorry." He stammered. "I thought you might not remember me from last night and..."

Maggie cut him off. "You read me my text messages and walked me out. I wasn't quite that drunk. Anyway I'm insanely hungover and wearing my grandpa glasses. So now all that next morning mystery is gone." Maggie teased, raising an eyebrow.

Relief. This was an asshole move but so far seemed to be paying off. Was she alluding to waking up together?  So maybe he didn't completely fuck this up?

"I was hoping maybe I could see you. Maybe I could make you a drink this time.”

"Oof a little early to talk booze. I need much water and Gatorade.  Maybe a ladylike barf after my canyon run. A shower. You get the gist."

"I could meet you for a run. " He suggested.  ‘Slow down Styles you just got demoted from creep,’ he reminded himself.

"No offense.  I run alone. I don't like to draw a lot of attention. The bartender knew you last night. So I assume someone would be happy to photograph us together."

"You didn't - know me I mean." Harry softly chuckled.

  Now it was Maggie’s turn to feel like the asshole. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible. I assume it’s music because he mentioned karaoke."

"It is. I'm Harry Styles, a singer and you are Maggie Dunne, an actor, writer and producer. A hyphenate. Impressive. " Lame Harry, fucking lame. He needed to get off this call before he could be any more of a fucking tool.

"Well it is nice to officially meet you, Harry Styles, the singer. So after I puke and shower I could be up to hang later."  Why do I keep saying puke? Shut up Maggie! Her brain screamed at her.

"I mean who could turn down a post puke hang?" He ruffled his unruly curls back and smiled. 

Maggie was briefly distracted wondering what a fist full of those curls would feel like. Would his sparse facial hair be soft or scratchy on her thighs? She snapped out of it and asked, "How about my place? We could get some take out. Not to sound too forward but it's that whole low profile thing."

Harry felt relieved actually. " Low profile is good. I'm big on low profile and discretion."

"Sweet talker." Maggie softly chuckled.

Harry laughed with her. "Oh yeah. Maybe my lawyer can call your lawyer to negotiate an NDA?."

"Ooh you filthy boy." She rolled her eyes.

Fame is a fucked up thing. No normal girl would be thrilled the hot guy they met would want to keep them under wraps. Maggie felt relief wash over her that Harry didn't seem like a fame whore thus far. No offer to take her to Craig’s and end up with a bounty on them from Backgrid. 

"So 7? I'll text you my address a little later. Like once the room stops spinning." 

"See you at 7. Lots of water and eat something greasy." He laughed.

Maggie groaned and then waved before she hung up. She laid her head back on the pillows. Harry Styles. Cute. Clearly a little awkward. Who video chats someone they just met? He was lucky he looks like sex on a stick or she would have ended that much sooner.

Maggie adjusted her glasses and opened a Google search.  She typed his name. Images first. Well good morning libido. I had nearly forgotten about you. A warm flush hit her lower body and crept up. God he was pretty. The hair. The eyes. The lips. The crazy amount of ink on those toned arms.

He was in that boy band, One Direction. She had definitely heard of them but couldn't be sure she knew any of the music.

An article mentioned he sang that song, 'Sign of the Times.' The first time she heard that song was in rush hour traffic and she burst into tears. She wasn't even 100% sure of what it was about but it gutted her. She had to reapply her mascara. I can't believe Harry is that guy. Ok no more Google. I should leave a little mystery, she thought.

Harry spent a lot of his morning doing an internet search on Maggie when he was supposed to be working. He scrolled through an embarrassing amount of photos. She was undeniably gorgeous. The sparkling blue eyes. 

She was more than a pretty face though. He read a Variety profile. She graduated from UCLA while acting full time. Her sister's Liza and Alex along with their husband's made the move to LA after Maggie’s first few films.  Movies became a family business with Liza and Alex learning a lot in a short amount of time. The three of them opened a small production company on the WB lot. In two years they needed a much larger office. They predominantly employed women. Name an interesting film, documentary or show you have seen in the last few years and chances are Three Sisters Productions had a hand in it. 

An image search of Maggie showed her in her wet suit on the beach after surfing. Lots of photos of her taken via long lens in her bathing suits. Playing volleyball. Hiking. Running. Paddleboard. Yoga. The paparazzi definitely had an obsession with catching her on the beach.

The one thing he couldn't find much of was anything on Maggie's love life. Harry wished he had been as fortunate or as smart as she had been. She had been spotted around town with guys but nothing serious. The only time she was spotted more than twice with a guy was either a co-star or about a decade ago when she had dated a pretty famous indie rocker.

While Harry was definitely interested in Maggie she unfortunately didn't have much more of a chance than being a lovely distraction. A rebound. Harry was still getting over the French underwear model, Colette who had maybe easily been his first real love and just as easily his first real heartbreak. 

Harry felt like the search was becoming a bit much.  Maybe he should leave a little mystery for later.

Just keep running Maggie. She pushed her body hard in the blazing Los Angeles sun. She could only hear her blood rushing in her ears. She looked down at her apple watch. Her time sucked. It felt like she was running in mud. Her legs worked harder. The vomit she was joking about earlier was suddenly at the back of her throat. She had been waiting for it. Maggie pulled to the right and made her way behind some vegetation. The hot grossness that had been sitting in her gut was released in a forceful torrent.

"Maggie are you ok?" A voice she didn't recognize called into her. "You are Maggie Dunne, right?"

She internally groaned because it was either a fan or paparazzi.  Either one would be very intrusive at this moment. She opened the hydroflask she had slung around her. She rinsed her mouth and then poured some water into her hand and rinsed her face.

"It is. I'm okay." She walked back out onto the trail. Maggie plastered her public smile on her face for the two middle aged women waiting for her.

"Sorry we noticed you and didn't want to bother you. Then we got worried. We're moms." The dark haired ponytailed one shrugged.

Ok so they were sweet and harmless. "Thank you, that was kind of you. One too many drinks last night combined with sun and running. I should know better." She knew better but she needed the release. It wasn't a problem if it just happened, right? She wasn’t shoving her fingers down her throat. 

The red haired lady in the visor nodded. "It happens. If you’ll be ok we’ll leave you be."

The dark haired one smiled. "Unless maybe you wouldn't mind taking a photo with us."

Maggie was sweating and stunk of whiskey vomit but she smiled the public smile even bigger, nodded her head and said,  "Let's do it." They snapped a selfie and said their goodbyes but not before the redhead tried to set Maggie up with her son. 

She continued her run but back in the direction of the car. She pulled her damp tank top off, threw it in the trunk and then pulled a fresh tank over her sports bra. Took her sneakers and socks off and slipped into some slides. Once into the car she blasted the AC, washed down two more advil with some water and clicked her stereo on. She had downloaded Harry's solo album and she was now ready to listen.  She pulled into traffic and headed to her favorite cold pressed juice spot.

Sorry for the short Chapters. Just posting as a rewrite which may bite me in the backside. Back when I wrote this story originally I had just unearthed my old journals where I detailed my ED. So that was sort of the inspiration for some of Maggie's struggles.

Next up -- Maggie and Harry 'Netflix and chill'? (My 22 year old niece would cringe so hard if she knew I just typed that.

[hopeeternal]

Yes, by all means….let’s dedicate to your 5 year old daughter this trash movie which you only got distributed by preying on a 28 year old man. A movie which you are marketing strictly as a sex flick. A movie which said 5 year old cannot even watch for the next 12 years.

Jesus take the parenting wheel

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

maybe i’m mistaken but.. the way the media treats louis has changed a bit. (not necessarily in a Good way just. different?) hear me out.. i was reading this shitty daily mail article that talked about harry’s 30th - and ofc it was filled with all kinds of daily mail typical nonsense. but when it predictably started listing off the “shortcomings” of the other 1d members and how they weren’t nearly as worthy of having their ass kissed as harry, louis’ bit wasn’t as bad as the others..? especially compared to the way they focused on liam’s alcoholism and had several paragraphs dedicated to insulting zayn.

they described him as “pint sized” and said his venues were “noticeably smaller than harry’s” (which, no fucking shit? holo was in the works starting back in 2013). the worst part was alluding to jay and fizzy’s deaths being some kind of “one direction curse”. other than that though - no mention of freddie, the airport arrest, the chile leak (which.. didn’t DM leak that..?), beef with H, tiffs with journalists, etc.

i just think it’s super weird that the worst insults they could come up with were calling him tiny and comparing his tour to H’s? it’s almost like the strategy they’ve collectively taken in the last year-ish is to downplay his success and aid in the gp not taking his solo career seriously (by minimizing any of his solo accomplishments/focusing on 1d/sexualizing or objectifying him) rather than being outright insulting and aggressive and throwing vitriol at him hoping he breaks.

could also just be that they were too busy lavishing so much nauseating praise on H that they surpassed their word count or they wanted to insinuate that louis was forgettable or not worth their time, but idk!

hate to give them clicks but here’s the link if you want to read it in full:

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/usshowbiz/article-13032513/Why-Harry-Styless-friends-urging-settle-married-babies-30th-birthday-today-lives-incognito-life-London-Canadian-model-Taylor-Russell.html?ito=native_share_article-top

First, it’s actually very on-brand for an article about Harry Styles’ birthday to consist mostly of insults about the other 1D guys. The fact that this is 2024 but media still feel the need to do this belies the hollowness of the Harry Styles hype.

After three years of build-up in 1D (2013-15) and eight years of industry propping him up, giving Harry Styles the access to the biggest songwriters and producers in the industry, the best venues money and power can buy, Azoff clients and adjacent saying his farts don’t smell, movie roles handed to him on a silver platter, with Christopher Nolan no less?, iconic Phoebe Waller-Bridges making a music video with him, Chloe Zhao saying he’s the second coming of Christ, Bono loving him more than his own child, even Billie Eilish and Miley Cyrus wanting to work with him, bought Grammys over Beyoncé etc., and this is the best they can do for his birthday? That Harry is “better than the rest of 1D”?

DM sounds a little like Harries on Twitter boasting about Harry Styles’ streams, or his wealth, or his Grammys and stadium tours, all of which amounts to the same boast: look what industry can create.

Look what they did with someone so white, bland, and pretty. Look at the money machine they built from a guy so vaguely defined as to have no identity at all. Harry Styles says nothing, supports nothing, sings about nothing, stands for nothing. Harry’s convictions are those of Jeff Azoff & friends. He truly lives up to his name: all style, absolutely no substance.

But Harry has… numbers. Harries (and media) cling onto numbers like peasants worshipping the god of hard currency. They love that money. The way they boast about Harry’s numbers is a little scary, to be honest. It suggests that there’s nothing else they like about him.

We can also tell, nine years later, that Harry isn’t the deep-thinking romantic poet he was painted to be, the one who cared about social issues and community, the one who thought deeply about human relationships and love, the one who cared for his fans enough to speak to us like family, to treat us with care, to do one-on-one fan service, to look genuinely happy in our presence, to look and act grateful even as those words pass his lips onstage AND off, to measure the people he works with with genuine, heartfelt friendship and not only because of their power and influence.

Because it’s very clear, nine years later, who that person in One Direction was. It’s the guy who never put 1D down, who, despite everything that has happened since, values the journey and can articulate it with all of the bittersweet authenticity to his experience. It’s the guy whose album was delayed for years because his first solo single competed a little too hard with Harry’s.

To your other point about press being nicer to Louis this year, other people have noticed the same thing, that Louis has been winning touring awards and other peripheral awards not central to the music industry. He isn’t going to walk the Brits or Grammys red carpet, and he won’t be nominated for VMAs or Aria awards.

But Louis isn’t even supposed to have a solo performing career in 2024. After 2017, the industry shut him out of radio and streaming. Faith In The Future was shut out of critical reviews. He started touring with a 1500 capacity venue. He isn’t supposed to be able to sell arenas, let alone stadiums. He wasn’t supposed to set a livestream world record— not when Niall did one the same year. Louis isn’t supposed to be friends with indie musicians, or have a reputation as “rock ‘n roll royalty”— having been shut out of the BBC. He isn’t supposed to tour the biggest venues in Australia. He isn’t supposed to sell arenas in Poland or Romania or Finland or Turkey. He isn’t supposed to create his own festival, give fans the first festival completely free, and showcase young, upcoming bands. Louis wasn’t supposed to be in the position to nurture any band, was he? He was supposed to be ancient history by now. They all were supposed to kneel before the legendary Harry Styles and disappear.

But Louis is selling upwards of 700k tickets for his second tour, and here we are, Harries following his every move, Larries relying on him to launder Harry’s image, and DM having to acknowledge that Louis is successfully, happily touring and making music on his own terms, with his own employees, singing his own lyrics to his enthralled audiences. He doesn’t take the bait to compare himself to his bandmates, nor relive old fights, nor stir up band controversy. He doesn’t talk badly about the other men’s relationships or families. He’s the only one who has watched Niall’s and Liam’s concerts and publicly supports all the guys’ careers. If the worst they can say is that Louis isn’t Harry Styles, thank God he isn’t. Thank god he stayed himself, went through the fires and came out better. One Direction mythology has eroded over the years, but at least Louis remained good, inside and out. Not perfect, but human, trying, and genuinely, actually good.

Who really knows why media can show some positivity to Louis now. I am cautious about any real change. I guess the rest of 2024 will be revealing. I’ve been waiting for so long that I don’t really expect anything different. We’ll see.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Jamie also posted a very immature story on ig when Harry Styles released his video for Daylight essentially calling him a Matty copycat. Even if the videos have similarities it was such an unprofessional move to make publicly when you are a manager and it was honestly just cringe cause I doubt HS or anyone from his team cares enough to respond to Jamie’s ass lol

Ohhhh yeahhh I forgot about the Harry thing. That was so dumb too cuz like why is he trying to initiate beef? Like you said, Harry/ Jeff Azoff (a creep of a different type) don’t give a fuck but like the harries ( I say this as a harrie) are insane.

The entire thing was dumb as unnecessary and not the behavior of a grown ass man. Or a professional. The Jamie shit is endless I’m sure we’re forgetting some more but like the point stands. He’s just…..ewwwww.