#harry isn't harry without his tattoos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

69% of Tumblr users are millennials.

#harry isn't harry without his tattoos

elioslover · 3 months

Text

Green-Eyed Monster- Harry Styles x Reader (kiss prompt).

[Premise: Harry has been pining over his best friend's older sister for as long as he can recall. Here's some angst when the band goes on hiatus].

Prompts: "You're jealous, just admit it, you want to be the one kissing me." // “If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.”

Word count: 2.6k.

More Grapejuice / Other Writing

🍷 the guest 🍷

There is no reason for you to feel as bent out of shape as you are in this very moment, zoned out of a conversation with an old friend because standing behind her is the man himself- leaning against the balcony with a collection of adoring guests gathering near, Harry Styles.

Harry Styles; whose boyband had just announced a hiatus. Harry Styles; is properly back in his hometown for the first time in half a decade. Acting- as you deem- far too nonchalant for someone as global as he seemed to be. He had simply slipped back into his old groove as if no time had passed at all.

But all you can think about is how much time has passed. Harry seems almost unrecognizable- hair and tattoos only increasing in length and number. It’s only when his face takes intervals to crinkle with glee- smile cheesing, eyes squinting with joy- that you see the Harry you’ve known so long it feels as if life never existed before him.

Even as his life is about to change completely- a whole new chapter challenging his past and now his future- Harry seems to have little reservation about embracing happiness. Perhaps his nonchalance is the reason your observation stirs into frustration and confusion, causing a sort of panic you were sure to have never felt prior. Who is Harry Styles now?

Then again, your sudden distaste may also be attributed to the adoring attention he has been receiving all night- particularly that of the beautiful people who were visibly blessed with the chance to praise and pet him… And they were indulgently taking advantage of the opportunity.

Harry, by the looks of it was eagerly lapping it up, happily reciprocating touches and even looking at some of them with a gaze you had once noticed when it was dedicated to yours truly.

He definitely isn't a teenager anymore, and it dawns on you how impactful and influential his introduction to stardom had been.

Where were these thoughts even coming from? Your mind never wavered to the thought of Harry unless a One Direction song came on in public or Jack dropped him in conversation.

All the questions you had never pondered were causing your brain to swell, your body stuck in a frozen frenzy of how much has changed- for all of you- starting with the obscene and sudden assessment of his features- had you ever considered him as anything other than just… Harry? Has he always been so pretty?

All of those thoughts shatter as you raise your glass for a sip and across the room, Harry’s arm wraps around an unknown auburn-headed woman’s waist- which, at the least, makes your stomach clench and at the most, has you tilting your head back to empty the glass in one desperate swallow.

Without consideration, you hastily dismiss the person still animatedly engaging in a one-sided conversation and turn your back on the oddly upsetting scene happening against the balcony railings.

Ignoring the high possibility of tripping, agitation carries you to the kitchen- abandoned and almost silent in contrast to the party vibing merely meters away- and you immediately get ahold of the nearest bottle of chilled champagne, filling your flute to the brim and have a hearty sip before finally settling, taking a deep breath, trying to untangle your thoughts- hopefully rid yourself of them for good.

A couple minutes- what sounds like the length of a song- pass before you feel grounded and sane enough to rejoin the festivities. So, with a deep breath and a final sip for good luck, your faithful docs exit the kitchen and trail into the chatty confinements of the living room.

Lo and behold, Harry Styles is everywhere you go, practically blocking your path with his body pressing up against Auburn from outside, and he looks mere moments away from engaging her in a kiss.

That silly sickly feeling threatens to return if you stay a moment longer, so your stare meets the floor and your feet pick up their pace, heading directly for the barricade that is Harry.

His eyes bore into your own with a fervour that you will never forget and for a moment he has you pondering how such a magnificent emerald forest, framed by the wispiest of lashes, could have gone unnoticed for so long- how had you granted his adoring gaze such little attention?

🍷 the host 🍷

Harry is in two minds about this evening- he can’t help but indulge in the praises and doting that showers him from each and every direction, his pulse is racing with ecstatic at the relief of finally being home again.

His fears of everything changing have long passed, leaving his worries at the door as he is embraced with excited and excessive welcomes from anyone and everyone who looks his way.

With his oldest and best friend, Jack, by his side once more, Harry feels no different than he did at that farewell party at least five years prior, enthusiastically greeting familiar faces, accepting each praise with a gracious humbleness.

But Harry can’t tell if humble is even an accurate definition anymore and it isn't long before he feels his social battery starting to stutter and it’s clearly time for a drink.

By the end of drink number two, his body is as relaxed as his mind, and Harry is now encouraging the constant vying for his attention- his supposed importance- especially when it includes an array of beautiful people stroking his extremely inflated ego.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Harry cradles a whisky in one hand and the waist of a dazzling woman in his other. He hasn't actually been listening to a word said around him, nodding every so often as the small group around him eagerly bantered on.

He’s just happy to be here and doesn't think it could get any better until he spots the only thing on earth that could permanently put him on cloud nine- his greatest dream all wrapped up in the gorgeous physical being that is yours truly- and suddenly Harry feels as if all of the happiness he currently feels is merely an appetizer to the type of joy he could be feeling if he were only across the room staring into your eyes.

Oddly enough, your eyes are already set on him, suspiciously staring him down with an unreadable gaze that fills his stomach with an odd sense of unease. You look older- the same, but older- and something about that freaks Harry out and reminds him of his own age, how different things actually are now, even if it doesn't feel that way.

And as if he were seeing you for the very first time, Harry cannot stop staring with bewildered admiration- his eyes darting from your trusty Docs to the extremely fashionable clothing you donned, sternly studying the dips and curves of your body before settling back on your grumpy, but heinously beautiful face.

He felt it unreasonable- borderline evil- how much better you seemed to get with each interaction, how the hell was he to garner your attention now when he was already hardly capable of doing so for the last decade?

After you disappear into the sanctuary of the kitchen, Harry is too antsy to keep it together any longer and he finds his legs blindly following after you.

He’s hardly in the hallway by the time his female company comes from outside- he didn’t bother learning her name. Her auburn hair was identification enough- and she caught up and captured his bicep between her cold hand.

She ascends to her tippy toes, puckered lips finding their place just below Harry’s earlobe, her breath fanning over his sharp jawline as she seductively slips sensual suggestions his way, her free hand trailing up along his torso, fingernails tapping his chest.

For a good moment, Harry truly does start to forget what he had gone on the hunt for, easily distracted by the shower of affection drizzling all along his body by the unknown woman.

But, with a sudden shock, the kitchen door violently swings open to reveal your rigid figure, eyes furrowed and lips trapped fearfully between your gritted teeth.

You are the spitting image of a deer in headlights, staring up at Harry with a look that has him stopping in his tracks, realizing that fate has struck again and he has his elusive person right where he wants you.

Except, his plan to finally confront you had not included a third party and Harry could feel his face swelling with red blotches of blushy embarrassment.

For a reason he can’t pinpoint, shame creeps its way into the pit of his stomach, fists clenched as his body turns to brick, and Auburn, still semi-latched on, is becoming so suffocating he feels like a lobster about to boil inside out.

Rudely, and far too obviously, Harry disarms himself, shrugging his body from beneath Auburn’s grip and muttering some dismissive promise of meeting up with her later on- praying that his words are muffled enough that you don’t hear them.

You aren't stupid though, and by the height your brow manages to raise in suspicion, Harry confirms that his words did not go unnoticed.

His dismissal of Auburn seems fine by her as she smiles hopefully, giving him a swift kiss on his cheek before slipping past Harry and disappearing back into the party.

Unfortunately, he isn’t surprised as you attempt to pretend this interaction was even occurring by disconnecting your shared stares, glancing your focus to the living room, and planning an escape route. But there is no choice other than to pass Harry and there is zero chance he will let you get away with it.

Harry steps and then tilts his body closer, hoping to encourage you to do the same, but you stay put and only glare up at him expectantly and impatiently. He ignores your frigidity as if it were just a farce- it is- instead his smile turns to a full-on grin, reaching his eyes and crinkling cutely at the corners, and it spreads along his features with a fondness so fierce that you find yourself working overtime to avoid your face from breaking out into the same smile.

“Avoiding me, hm?” He muses with a precious pout, “Y’know that hurts my feelings, klutz.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You do it every single time.”

Arms folding across your chest, face frowning with the preparation of upping your defensiveness in the name of dismissing Harry- just like old times,

“I see you enjoy lying for fun now.”

Harry nearly scoffs but it projects as a sly smirk and points it at your painful scowl,

“Y’do. Dipping in and out of patios… kitchens… Yet you always meet me in the hallway.”

The stomach-knotting realisation that this is factual- how many times had this happened before? How many times would it happen again? Have it your way, and this will be the last time,

“Meeting and cornering are not the same thing.”

“Stop tryna be smart.” Harry slightly, but softly snaps as his lips smack together.

“You’re ruder than I remember.”

All snippiness leaves as soon as it comes, Harry sinks back into a swell of adoring amusement,

“You rate?”

“Ignoring your guests is a party fowl.” Definite diversion on your part.

“Avoiding the host is a party fowl.” He counters.

Weakly attempting to walk past him, only renders your back pressed up against the red abstract wallpaper. He remains put- which, to you, is rather unnerving- and upset is racing along your prickling skin,

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He edges closer with curiosity.

“Just because you’re used to people throwing themselves at you doesn't mean I'm avoidant." You spit and suddenly, he’s so close.

“They don’t all do that.”

“Sure, Harry.”

Have you two ever been this near before? Most certainly, but you could always chalk that up to intoxicated confusion- at least on your end had it ever felt this… intense? Is there any worldly justification for the suspicious stirring of curiosity now that he has so calmly and tenderly crossed the threshold of your personal space.

Harry knows he has never felt as satisfied as he does whenever your bodies threaten to blend into one, but for perhaps the first time, he thinks you may consider this palpitating chemistry as something more than a silly game.

But, he does so fondly enjoy the game, and if he pushes even a moment longer, Harry knows your patience will wither and guide you away from him for good. He uses a tried and true tactic,

“I like your hair.” He does.

“Yours is like longer than mine.” It is.

“D’you like it?” Harry is deep within your space.

“It’s alright.” You shrug, lying through your damn teeth. And you could leave it at that, but the bitterness has clearly taken over, “I’m sure the groupies are creaming, though.”

Hell, Harry has missed the pleasure of being in your preference, how electric and alive his body expels excitement and the anticipatory flames you will surely attack him with. He loves it- hates how much he does, can’t help but prod and provoke,

“I can tell you’re agitated.”

“Does that make you feel special?”

“Can’t put my finger on why…” He ponders- Harry’s missing context, the type you are unwilling to confess- the only evidence he has is your pointed stare flickering with fury- wait, envy? “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Oh, you’re jealous.”

Your throat chokes on your stomach as you croak out a spluttered, “What?” as Harry’s chest brushes your shoulder blade and his spearmint-scented breath fans across your neck,

“I think you heard me just fine.”

“You are delusional.”

Is he, though? Has jealousy been the reason for your distaste and discomfort this evening? Are you as delusional as you believe Harry to be? He seriously thinks so, skin tickling your own,

“Maybe… Still think I’m right.”

“Fuck off, Harry.”

He won’t though. Hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger as his righteous gaze bores into your own- frozen and wide with bewilderment- and finally, his lips threaten to brush the back of your ear,

"You're jealous. Just admit it. You want to be the one kissing me."

“No-”

“Never looked at me like this before..”

You know, and you hate that he kdoes too. You should leave. Now. But with a compulsion too fierce to fight off, a culmination of fascination that ignores your conviction of moving away,

“I don’t-”

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.”

Harry says it so matter-of-factly that it shocks your body, and brain, into returning to reality and those succulent tingles swirling in your stomach twist sourly, threatening to suffocate you inside out.

With disappointment that is mostly directed at yourself, your sudden enamourment switches to the act of pressing your palm to Harry’s sternum and pushing sternly until he stumbles back in surprise. You cannot risk leaving without gifting him a cruel and crushing tongue-lashing,

“You’re a frat boy in the body of a former pop star. I would never want to kiss someone like you.”

You slip past him with zero resistance, no consideration for confirming his reaction as your back turns to Harry.

Well, Harry thinks he’s glad you grant him some privacy because the guttural disappointment melting his face into a frown is shameful enough.

He doesn’t understand the sudden stinging of his tear ducts, the shrill ringing in his ears. Suddenly, Harry doesn’t quite feel like celebrating his return.

Head bows as he carries his hurt and frustration to the confinements of the kitchen. It’s about time to spiral.

🍷

You can send me a couple numbers and a trope/dynamic to write about! (18, 26, 31, 32, 35,) em. Xo 💞

139 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 4 months

Text

Nothing Left to Lose

saw this photo on pinterest and got inspired! happy weekend, y'all!

Masterlist

*.*

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Don't—Don't ask me that. Please."

"Why?"

Harry sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face, wincing when his fingertips came back with blood on them. "Because we promised not to lie to each other, and I don't want to give you an answer you won't like."

"Damn it, Harry!"

Y/n looked like she wanted to hit something, probably him, but he was too far out of reach. Angry tears lined her eyes as she took an anxious drag from the cigarette that dangled between her fingers, but Harry knew better than to go to her. She was pissed, and he needed to let her seethe properly before comforting her.

"I'm sorry—"

"You're not because you keep doing it!" A tear slipped from Y/n's eye, but she quickly wiped it away. "I told you I didn't want any part of this life. You said—You said you wouldn't do this anymore."

"This isn't something you just send your two weeks notice into, Y/n. I can't just say, 'I quit.'"

"Don't try to explain that bullshit to me, Harry!"

That was a wrong choice of words. Sighing, Harry took a chance and stepped closer to Y/n. "I'm trying, Y/n, really. I know it doesn't sound like it, but I am. I just don't...I don't know how to safely get out of this."

"Then let's run away," Y/n said, grabbing onto his hands desperately, neither of them minding the smoke curling between them. Harry's knuckles were split and bruised, dried blood caked around them, though most of it wasn't his, yet she held onto them anyway. Y/n had never been one to shy away from a little blood. "We can go somewhere, anywhere. The world is such a big place Harry. His network doesn't stretch that far. We can—We can forget all of this."

"It's not that easy—"

"He's using you!" she cried. "He's using you to get to me, you have to know that, Harry."

Harry held her face in his hands as he rested his forehead against hers. He knew nothing about the life they shared was easy. From the moment he stumbled into the bar she worked at, battered and bruised and reeking of trouble, he knew. Y/n had known right away that he was one of her father's men, even if the easily recognizable tattoo that curled around his shoulder and up his neck was covered thanks to the hoodie he wore. What she didn't know was that he'd been purposely tasked with keeping an eye on her, a direct order from her father. That little secret came out months after they met, after Harry realized he was falling for Y/n and that he couldn't hide it anymore.

This wasn't what he expected out of life. He'd fallen into the wrong crowd long before he ever should've, and it spiraled into a life he knew he shouldn't have been proud of. But the money was good and if he kept his head down he didn't get into any serious trouble. There were a couple nights where guilt kept him from sleeping, or when he lied awake in a safehouse because someone else fucked up and he had to disappear for a few days. Maybe his line of work wasn't something to be proud of, but he grew up believing he wouldn't amount to anything, and this life, the one he built for himself, was his and his alone.

All that changed when he met Y/n, though.

He'd never met her prior to the job her father had tasked him with. His boss' daughter was elusive at best, but it was well-known that they were estranged. But Y/n's father still considered her his greatest pride and joy, hence sending Harry to keep an eye on her to make sure she was safe. He'd taken the job, mostly because he couldn't really say no to his boss, but also because he thought it would be easy enough, stress free.

Falling in love was never the objective, yet here he was, and it killed him to see his love cry.

"I know," Harry said quietly, maybe even sounding a little defeated.

"I want a life with you, H," Y/n pleaded, resting her hands over his. "I want a long life with you without my father's shadow hanging over our heads. This...this isn't living. We're hiding."

"I know," he said again. "I know, you're right."

"I love you," Y/n said. "So much, H. That's why it freaks me out when you leave and come back like this. I...I hate what he does. He ruins people, Harry."

Part of him believed it was impossible to get out from under her father's thumb, and part of him was scared of leaving everything he'd ever known behind to start over somewhere new. But for Y/n, he was willing to try. A future with her was worth running into unknown territory.

Harry tried for a smile and kissed Y/n's forehead. "If it makes you feel better, I had a terrible night."

"Mm...Maybe a little," she said, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"Is persuading you to kiss it all away off the table?"

Y/n's smile softened into something more somber. "Promise me we'll run away."

Harry looked into Y/n's eyes, saw all the hurt that the cuts and bruises and blood he came home covered in affected her. He wasn't just looking out for himself anymore, Y/n was a part of his life he wasn't willing to give up. She was a non-negotiable, and making her happy had to be his top priority.

"We'll run away," he promised. "Wherever you wanna go, baby. Just you and me."

"Really?" she asked, as if she actually thought Harry wouldn't agree.

"Name a time and place, and we'll go," he said. "I love you, Y/n. I'm in this with you. All of that bullshit means nothing when I have you."

Y/n exhaled, and Harry could practically see a weight lift from her shoulders. Leaning in, she kissed him once, pulling back and giggling a little as she rubbed a thumb gently over the cut on his lip. Pressing one kiss to his cheek, she took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom they shared.

"Let's see about getting those cuts cleaned up."

"I've actually got one that needs really special attention—"

"Shut up, Styles!"

Harry just grinned as he took the cigarette from Y/n's offering hand and put it in his mouth, happy to hear the laughter in Y/n's voice. There was light for them at this long, winding tunnel. He believed in it, he wanted it enough to believe in it. Harry had never tried to leave this life behind because it was all he'd ever known, there was no reason to try to build a life outside of the crimes he committed. Y/n should've felt that way too, but she didn't. She wanted more for herself, and for him now too. Harry was willing to give up everything, to risk everything, to make sure he was happy, that he was able to give her the life that she wanted.

And if slipping between the fingers of the most powerful man in the city was what she wanted, then he'd find a way to make it happen.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot

305 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 1 month

Note

Hey do you have any Drarry fic recs which basically have Draco completely changing in 8th year/after the war, like he's dyed his hair and has tattoos and just has become more friendly and changed and Harry basically loses his mind? Kinda tired of the grovelling Draco or animosity fics atp.. Thanks :)

Hi anon! Omg yes, love me confused Harry losing his mind over a changed, hotter and confident Draco. This trope always delivers even when Draco doesn’t go through major physical changes (I love it when he gets extra though 🤌🏼). I have a few recs but they’re all post-Hogwarts, I hope they still work for you!

Enjoy the Silence by @shealwaysreads (M, 3.4k)

Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

Under Your Skin by p1013 (E, 4k)

He initials another section and flips the page. Being a junior Auror is a lot more grunt work than he expected, and the paperwork isn't even the worst of it. He's also managed to catch intake duty. It's getting close to 2 AM, there hasn't been a single arrest brought in tonight, and he's still got another six hours before his shift is over. Rubbing a hand over his face, he prays for something, anything, to make the interminable evening better.

The Study of Change by p1013 (M, 4.3k)

Harry's going to hell. He's going to hell immediately. Even with all of the good he's done in his life, he's never going to overcome the impure thoughts racing through his head at the sight of Draco Malfoy looking like an academic wet dream in a room full of barely legal adults.

Starstruck by phrynne (E, 4.5k)

Yeah, Malfoy has pink hair. Or sort of. Half of his hair is shaved short and dyed an aggressive pink. The other half is still white-blond, a strand falling over his right eye, only the left side of his face visible at all times. He turns it slightly and spots me beyond the moving bodies. He doesn’t stop dancing, a smile plays on his lips. This time I don’t look away like I used to when all this began.

Sex on Legs in Six-Inch Heels by @tessacrowley (E, 9.6k)

Draco Malfoy is a brilliant freelance cursebreaker and the only one who can help the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very dangerous case, but more importantly, he's wearing six-inch heels, and Harry cannot handle it, he really just can't.

Dream by the Fire by GallifreyisBurning (M, 11k)

When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos?

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch.

In the Shape of Things to Come by @academicdisasterfic (E, 15k)

Existential angst and chronic boredom are plaguing Harry Potter in his cushy post-war life. However, a chance encounter with a tattooed, pierced, disgruntled Draco Malfoy in the middle of Muggle Camden seems to spark something in Harry again—and he never could stay away from Malfoy.

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by @wellhalesbells (T, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

Ink (My Skin With Your Name) by Kandakicksass (M, 22k)

Several years after the war, an ostracized Draco Malfoy covers himself in tattoos, becomes best friends with a muggle, and debates abandoning magical society entirely to work in a tattoo shop. All in all, he's having a hell of a time trying to figure out who he is and what he wants to do with his life. The last thing he needs is to run into Harry Potter, who seems intent on becoming his friend, even if he has to get a lot of ink to do it.

All Bets Are Off by dualwieldteacup (M, 31k)

Harry Potter's latest security assignment brings him to Las Vegas for the International Wizarding Casino World Series. At a magic underwater hotel, he is tasked with guarding the legendary and mysterious gambler known as Snake Eyes. The stakes are high when both Galleons and emotions are involved. Not to mention peacock pool floats, secret pizza, and most importantly of all, second chances.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #Draco changes after the war

105 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 1 year

Text

I JUST WANT A LOVER

RATING: R/smut (graphic sex, alcohol use, cigarettes)

WORD COUNT: 6.8k (i'm getting back in the swing of things, okay!!!! sorry this isn't my normal 20k lmao) (also like 75% smut) (i make no apologies)

CATEGORIES: one night stand!harry

PT. 2 | MASTERLIST | TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

a/n: i know it's been about twelve billion years, but thank you for bearing with me. i had the urge to write some smutty smut, so i did — not sure how consistent i'll be, but i'm back, baby!!!!!

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.”

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat.

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing yours to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

Y/N is newly single and Harry's really into her

You’d come out at the request of your best friend, but to be honest it didn’t take much to get you out there these days. The breakup with your ex had occurred a month and a half ago and since then you decided you were done being sad, and wanted to have fun. Fun that you hadn’t had in months. Fun with your best friends in the smallest amount of clothing you could get away with, and lips lined in a deep mauve that always made you feel like the baddest bitch in the room.

It was working too. You could feel your confidence and happiness creeping back piece by piece, every time you were dancing in a bar, screaming lyrics to your favorite songs and sweat slipping down your back, you felt one step closer to the person you remembered being. A person you had loved being too—full of life, the person people called when they wanted to have a fun night, the host of many a party, the best dance partner, and the perfect person for a heart to heart over pizza at the end of the night.

“I missed this!” Your friend Abbey said when you’d walked into her apartment with a bottle of gin earlier that night. She swept you into a giant hug and you couldn’t help but smile. “Like, I know I’ve seen you recently, but I missed going out with you—missed being happy with you.”

“I missed it too,” you’d replied, and meant it.

Now you were in your favorite bar in the Lower East Side, waiting impatiently at the bar amidst the many other patrons, tapping your phone on the counter to keep your mind busy. The combination of old Britney Spears songs pounding through the stereo and the rush of alcohol in your bloodstream made you full of joy, and a little more wild than usual.

“Gin and tonic and a fireball shot,” you requested, and he nodded before turning around.

“Fireball, huh?” The voice was deep and smooth, and you couldn’t help but turn around to discover who the owner was. He was tall, at least six foot, with dark brown hair and light green eyes, tattoos littering his arms. There was a ghost of stubble on his jaw, which only made it looked more chiseled.

He was so fucking hot it seemed unnatural. “Yeah,” you replied. “Feel like being a little crazy tonight.”

His lips curled up at the corners at that, and he took a step toward you. “Sounds like fun.” He raised his finger, grabbing the bartender’s attention, and requested a shot as well.

You took his distraction as an opportunity to study his side profile. His hair curled slightly around his ear, and his nose curved up ever so slightly at the end. There was a dash of freckles on his cheeks that you could barely make out in the low lighting. As your eyes traveled down to his clothing, you decided that he was ripped—his arm muscles bulged ever so slightly in a delicious way. He was so attractive it felt illegal to even be looking at him, much less talking to him. And having a drink with him, apparently.

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.”

“And what do you think?”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing your to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

“Deal,” he replied. The two of you bumped glasses, tapped them on the bar, and threw them back, the alcohol burning your throat. You watched as he, much to your excitement, didn’t struggle with the shot in the slightest. He just set the glass back on the bar and found your eyes. “Looks like we’re dancing, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment lit up your spine, and you tried to not smile too widely. The bartender came over and asked if it was on a tab or closed, and the man told him to put it on his tab without a beat—and that’s when you got his last name. Styles. Sexy, frankly.

He turned back to you and nodded toward the back of the bar. “Lead the way.”

The Motto by Drake was blasting through the speakers and this was the tenth song you two had been dancing to. Your gin and tonic was nearly empty, and your right hand was thrown around Harry’s neck—that was his name. Harry. It was said in your ear with his lips far too close to your skin for you to not fantasize about how they would feel on the rest of your body, the melt of his accent curling around you like a fire. His hands were on your hips, fingers curved around you so he could move with you with ease, and the two of your alternated between staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity it made you have to resist the desire to kiss him every time, and the bar around you.

Your back was sweaty from the heat of the dance floor, but the backless shirt you were wearing meant the material wasn’t sticking to your skin. Harry had informed you about a minute ago that the shirt was “one of the hottest things he’d ever seen” and that had made you smile coyly, or at least you’d hoped it was coy. You were enjoying the way his skin felt on yours, the press of his fingers, the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

It had been a while since you’d done this—let yourself flirt with a stranger, bask in the excitement of someone’s desire—and it felt so damn good. You dropped your head back, letting your hair fall backward, singing the lyrics you knew by heart. As you did it, you felt the tightening of Harry’s fingers on your waist, and you smiled to yourself. In return, you wrapped your fingers in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, scratching ever so slightly. This made Harry’s grip tighten again, and you liked knowing that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you.

You let your head fall forward, gaze meeting his. It was burning into you, his eyes gliding from your face down your body to the rise of your breasts. The pressure of it, of his interest and desire, felt good, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a deep need to kiss him. The prospect of touching your lips to his, which looked so plush and inviting, a dark pink that looked far too kissable. The need burned at your chest, and you decided there was no reason not to give in. Tonight, you decided, you were saying yes to things that made you a bit nervous, and seeing what happened. So, you pressed your torso flat against his and leaned your head back, tugging at his with your fingers so your mouths met in harmony.

It was like all he waiting for was permission, because the minute your lips touched he moved, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you even closer, the other moving upward, his hand cupping your throat gently. His lips were soft and plush, just like you’d hoped. You loved how they moved against yours with obvious desire, begging and pleading with you through the kiss. When he brushed his finger along the column of your neck, you let your tongue dart out, brushing against his lips, which he parted for you, and you swept into his mouth, finding his tongue.

The kiss was messy and needy and exhilarating. From the press of his lips and the way they parted and pulled at yours, to his arm that was locked around your waist, fingers pressing int your skin, or the hand that was splayed at your neck, his fingers curled int your hair and the base of his palm on your throat.

It was, in all honesty, how you’d been wanting to be kissed for months. With desire, to feel needed and craved by another. It set your body on fire, and made you throw any apprehension you had to the wind.

“Air,” you mumbled, pulling your mouth away. “I need air. And a cigarette.”

He just smiled, nodding gently, and then threaded his fingers in yours, tugging you through the crowd. You hadn’t necessarily invited him to follow you outside, but you hoped he would get the hint—and he did, thankfully. There was a door in the back of the bar, a security guard standing next to it. Harry nodded at him, pointing at the door, and the guard pushed it open. It led to an alley, which had some other people down the way, but this section was empty. Perfectly, beautifully empty.

It was quiet outside, the thrum of the bass from the music inside seeping out, and the honk of taxi cabs melding into the perfect sound of New York at nighttime. You leaned against the rough brick of the building, the bare skin of your back cooling against the brick, which felt glorious.

“Cigarette?” You asked, reaching into your purse to pull out your pack and lighter.

“Sure,” he answered. “But I only need half of one.”

“Share one with me then.”

He smiled, and nodded. You placed the cigarette between your lips and lifted the lighter, flicking it so the flame appeared, lighting the end. You took a deep inhale, holding the cigarette in your teeth lightly as you exhaled out the sides of your mouth around it, placing the lighter back in your purse. Then, you took the cigarette from your mouth and offered it to Harry.

There was something so erotic about watching him smoke the same cigarette that had just been in your mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at his mouth curved around it, the smoke leaking from his mouth as he exhaled. You wondered if he thought the same when he watched you smoke.

“So,” you said as you held the cigarette between your fingers after taking a puff. “What’s your story, Harry?”

He stepped forward and pressed his hand to the brick at the side of your head, before leaning in and wrapping his lips around the edge of the cigarette that you still held between your fingers and taking another inhale. “I work in a record store and record some music on the side. Live a couple blocks from here with my friend Michael. Moved here a couple years ago.” He nodded to you. “And you?”

“Live in the village, work in marketing like everyone else,” that made him chuckle. “And have been here for three years.”

“Like it?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I do. I don’t think it’s forever, but I doubt that’s surprising. But I can’t imagine living anywhere else right now.”

He took another inhale of the cigarette before agreeing. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you here with friends?”

He nodded. “My roommate and some other people.”

“Will they miss you?”

That earned you a smile, and a shake of his head. “Why, what do you have in mind?”

The cigarette, shot, and gin and tonic are fueling your confidence because you pressed towards him and whispered in his ear, “your bed, preferably.”

He looked at you for a beat and then pressed his lips to yours, his free hand that isn’t touching the brick wrapping around your waist and tugging you toward him. It was a fight for dominance, this kiss—heated in a way the other one hadn’t been. It was full of desire and need and curiosity, that curiosity of finding someone new and leaning what they like and how they like it. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, and that sound made Harry press himself into you, his erection obvious against the material of your skirt. It made you wrap your hand holding the cigarette around his neck, making sure to not singe his beautiful curls, and curl your other hand in the waistband of his jeans.

Your finger brushed against a sliver of skin above his boxers and below the hem of his shirt, and you heard the sharp inhale of air he took in as you did it, pressing firmly against you and deepening the kiss. You wanted him in a way that you’d forgotten how to feel, and it lit up your whole body, making you absolutely uninterested in pretending you weren’t incredibly into him. You tugged his lip between your teeth and sucked gently, before licking across it. He responded by tucking his chin and brushing a series of kisses down your neck, pulling and nipping at the skin in a way that had you digging your fingers into his skin.

“Can we go,” you said, more a statement than a question in the way the words tumbled from your mouth. You couldn’t do this much longer or you’d end up begging him to fuck you in the bathroom of this bar.

“Fuck yes,” he answered, placing a searing kiss on your lips. “Need to say goodbye to my friends and close out the tab. Meet me at the bar?”

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside to say your goodbyes. You found your friends, explaining the situation in excited tones, and kissed them all goodbye on the cheek, promising to text the address you ended up at. And then you went in search of Harry, easily finding his mop of curls poking out amongst the people at the bar. You headed right for him, and when he caught sight of you he reached out for you, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled into your hair after he signed his name on the receipt, and you followed him out of the bar and into the night.

He kicked his bedroom door shut and walked to you in two paces, tugging you to him. Your lips met messily, all the pent-up tension from the evening and the walk here coming to a head. You decided to not mess around—you wanted to feel his skin desperately. The buttons of his shirt, a soft silk that was sweaty in the best way, came unbuttoned with ease, and you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his skin. It was tan and scattered with so many tattoos that you wanted to explore, but didn’t feel like you had enough time.

“I love your tattoos,” you said, your voice cutting through the sexual tension and silence in the room. Your fingers brushed across the swallows on his chest, and you saw his muscles tighten at the touch.

He didn’t acknowledge your statement. Instead, he was too busy staring at you. “Y/N,” he said, breathlessly, “can I take this off?” His fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt, and you nodded with ease. The material was pulled over your head in mere seconds, leaving you in just your skirt and boots. His fingers were on your skin immediately, cupping your breasts, lips brushing along the slope of your shoulder as he pulled on your nipples.

Your head fell back, a quiet “fuck” leaving your lips as his fingers moved across your skin, leaving a searing fire in their wake. He took advantage of the space, sucking on the skin at the base of your neck, nipping and pulling and you threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged gently. “Bed,” you exhaled, and he nodded, walking you backward until you fell onto the mattress.

He leaned back and unzipped your boots for you, dropping them to the floor and then removing his own shoes. You pulled on the clasp of his belt, freeing it from his jeans, and then popped the button, pulling down the zipper. The thought crossed your mind that he was the first man you’d undressed since your ex, but you didn’t let the thought linger for too long. Instead, you busied your mind by pushing down his jeans and tugging him on top of you, finding solace in his lips.

The kiss he gave you was deep and full of need, and you drank it in, loving each second that it held you. His fingers tugged on the zipper of your skirt and you wriggled to let him free you from it, leaving you both in just your underwear. You moved up the bed, pulling him with you, and tugged him down on top of you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him in, your centers meeting and both of you let out a moan. Hooking up with someone new was always an interesting experience, that edge of apprehension and unsuredness, but this was feeling more and more comfortable by the second for you. Maybe it was the way his fingers felt on your skin, the way he didn’t stop touching some inch of you. Or the kisses he placed on your lips and then your skin, or the way his breathing hitched when you rolled your hips.

He was hard against you and you loved how it felt, how the friction felt against you. His tip was nudging at your clit through your underwear and you could feel how wet you were getting, and you wondered if he could tell too. You hadn’t done any of this in a little while, but you wanted him. Craved him in a way you hadn’t lately, and you wanted more. Wanted to feel the weight of him on your tongue and the press of him against you, that glorious feeling of being held by someone and the crash of an orgasm that exhausted your bones in a way nothing else did. How it made the world slip away for a second.

“Can you roll over?” You asked, nosing gently at his jaw.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he answered, flopping onto his back. You were on him in seconds, straddling his waist and swiveling your hips in a slow, tantalizing circle that had his hands reaching the curve of your waist. The pressure made you grind into him deeper and the moan that fell from his lips was intoxicating. You didn’t know how much more of him you could take, the pressure just building and building and building inside of you every time he kissed another inch of your skin.

Harry was fucking obsessed with you. This random girl he’d found at the bar who he couldn’t stop staring at. The curtain of your hair that fell around him as you bent forward and scattered kisses down his torso, making him inhale sharply, the feeling surprising in all the right ways. His fingers were pressed into your waist and he let them drop to your thighs, enjoying the softness of your skin and how he could grip them and pull ever so slightly to make your hips move over his cock, the friction feeling heavenly.

He needed you in every way, and he was simply wondering what you would be willing to give him because at this rate he would take any scrap or morsel of you.

And that’s when you suddenly shuffled backward and hovered over his thighs, lips ghosting downward to the top of his underwear. Fuck, you were going to go down on him. Would he survive? He wasn’t sure.

He lifted his hips and let you tug down his underwear, the sweetness of the kiss you placed on his hip bone catching him off guard. Harry lifted up onto his elbows so he could watch you as your fingers brushed along the length of him.

“You’re pretty,” you said, words dancing across his skin like another one of his tattoos.

“Yeah?” He answered, fingers winding through your hair. “Think I’m pretty, angel?”

You giggled—fucking giggled—and it set him on fire. “Very,” you informed him. Then, you ran your tongue up the length of him and swirled your tongue around his tip, the sight making Harry drop his head back and moan again. It felt so good, the warmth of your mouth and the caress of your tongue, the way you were delicate yet intense.

“More,” he mumbled, “please, Y/N.”

You didn’t hesitate before spitting on the length of him and rubbing your hand up and down, creating a ruthless pace that had him panting, circling your tongue over his tip repeatedly, making every inch of his cock light on fire. Then, you dropped your hand to his balls and gently rolled them as you took him in your mouth, and that’s when Harry looked back at you, not wanting to miss this moment.

Your eyes were on him, watching his response to your actions as you sunk lower and lower on his cock. When his tip bumped the back of your throat he groaned, and it took every inch of his willpower not to buck his hips at the sensation. And then you pulled back a bit, and then back down, creating a rhythm, your lips wrapped around him, tongue gently licking stripes up the underside of him as you worked.

It was heaven, your mouth. He hadn’t been with someone in a while, and you were unexpected but oh so perfect. He couldn’t stop looking at you, at the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth over and over again, the sight of your eyes watering ever so slightly when you took him particularly deep, the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. You were fucking drooling over him. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

When you pulled back and swirled your tongue over his tip and then sucked, he couldn’t hold back—he bucked his hips ever so slightly into your mouth. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. But you just nodded, widening your lips and stilling where you hovered.

His eyes about rolled back in his head.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, angel?” You nodded, and Harry didn’t waste another second.

He curled his fingers through your hair and pressed his hips up, using your mouth and you let him. You even moaned at one point when his tip brushed the back of your throat. It was like you loved this, loved the feeling of him using your mouth, and that made him even more intrigued by you. When you started sucking on his tip when he pulled back, he decided he couldn’t take this anymore—he was going to come if he didn’t stop.

“Gotta stop,” he said, pulling your head off him. “Gonna come if I don’t.”

You looked up at him and smiled, before wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Liked how you felt,” you mumbled, crawling up his body toward him. He grasped your hips in his hands, and looked up at you, catching your eyes and smiling.

“Liked it too,” he said. “Come ‘ere.” You lowered your mouth and kissed him, lips intertwining perfectly. Then you started grinding back and forth on his cock, and Harry realized how wet you were through your underwear—fucking dripping, in fact. “Roll over for me,” he requested, and you did as he said with ease.

He hovered over you and fingered the waistband of your underwear. “Please,” you mumbled, and he smiled, before pulling the material off with ease. You were, in fact, glistening with arousal and Harry loved the sight. He pressed a kiss to your knee and began to bend down because he wanted desperately to go down on you, but you started shaking your head back and forth. “No,” you said, “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

The please got Harry. “Yeah?” You nodded, and Harry moved closer to you, letting your legs fall to either side of him. “Wanted to go down on you, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”

Your hands swept up his sides, brushing along the tattoos that rested there. Harry pulled away just enough to reach his bedside table, grabbing a condom. Quickly, he ripped open the package and rolled it on himself, pumping gently, eyes glancing over your body spread out in front of him. Your breasts, perfectly large in all the ways he loved, the curve of your waist and the skin he was deeply enjoying holding onto, your gentle but wildly talented hands, the soft waves of your hair that smelled far too delicious to not bury his face in. It was like you were out of a dream.

“Harry,” you said, hand reaching for his thigh and tugging gently. “Please.”

The begging really did it for Harry—he hated to admit it, but he fucking loved it when girls begged for him. Made him feel so wanted, so desired, so needed, which is exactly what he craved from sex. “Coming, I promise, love.” He rose up on his knees and nudged your thighs a little farther apart with his own, creating space for himself. Leaning over you, he caught your eyes as he nudged your entrance gently. He knew he was big, and he didn’t want to assume it wouldn’t hurt, so he was going to watch your expression to see how it felt.

And what he saw made him keen. The way your eyelids drooped ever so slightly, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Then, he felt your hips brush down a bit, slipping more of his cock inside of you, and a gentle moan slip from your lips. “More,” you requested, hand winding around his bicep and gripping him.

Harry didn’t make you wait a second longer, he pushed forward, watching your eyes to make sure it didn’t hurt, and it never did. You just shut your eyes and your mouth dropped open, no sound coming out. You felt like heaven—wet and warm and snug, and Harry remembered why he absolutely fucking loved sex.

He pulled out slowly, and when you tugged slightly on his arm, as if to say Hurry up, he answered with a swift thrust in, groaning at the way your walls gripped him. You answered with a moan of your own, the words, “Feels so fucking good,” falling from your lips.

That spurred him forward, and he built up a rhythm that was brutal in pace. You liked it hard, that was obvious, and Harry happened to love it too. He had missed sex and this pace was dizzying in all the right ways. The feeling of your thighs wrapped around his waist, keeping his hips close, and the sight of your breasts bouncing as he fucked you was too much for his brain to process. He couldn’t figure out what to watch. The sight of his cock entering you (which he really liked looking at) or your breasts, or your stomach which he for some reason had the desire to bite gently, the skin stretched there tantalizing. Your face was a dream too—the way you looked at him with desire and need and pleasure so obvious, the moans that left your mouth without a filter, not caring in the slightest who heard.

Harry grabbed your thighs, tugging them up so your hips lifted off the bed and thrust in, hitting a deeper spot that made his head spin—and yours.

You were losing your fucking mind at this sex. He was fucking you like, truly, no man had fucked you before. Full of power and need and dominance in all the ways you loved. The feeling of his eyes on your skin had your body on fire, and that mixed with the way his cock was stretching you out just had your brain melting away. You couldn’t decide on what to pay attention to, but currently his tattoos and the ripple of his biceps was enticing you. The black ink made you curious, and you wondered if you asked if he would tell you their stories.

His hands slipped to hold your hips, pulling you in toward him, fucking you onto him and it made your eyes roll back, a heavy groan ripping from your throat. Missionary, you decided, was underrated. Harry knew how to fuck someone in missionary good, and you wanted it again and again and again. With your ex, you always craved the variety of positions as something to keep you engaged, but right now you had no desire to change your position. All you wanted was more intensity, more pressure, just more.

“More,” you begged, squeezing his arm.

Harry responded with a smile, and then he lowered your hips before rotating them to the left, your right leg draping over your left. He shifted behind you ever so slightly, nudging his cock back inside of you, and you gasped at the depth of the position. You could feel him in your fucking stomach it felt like, and it made you scrabble for his skin, gripping the forearm connected to the hand that was holding your hip as he fucked you. “Good?” He asked, hair falling into his eyes as he bent forward slightly, using the leverage to fuck you harder, driving into you at a brutal but delicious pace.

“So…fuck…good,” you answered, words a struggle in this position. You were so wet and your abdomen was tightening, a clear sign that your orgasm was rising inside of you. That wasn’t something that surprised you, though—you’d always been someone who came with ease, especially in intense sex. So you let it build, let your walls tighten and spasm around Harry.

It had Harry’s grip tightening. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him was a clear sign your orgasm was building, and Harry couldn’t wait to feel it. He wanted to watch you come, to know that he was the reason why. He still had plenty of stamina left—he’d always had plenty of energy when it came to sex—so he decided after you came if you still wanted to have sex, he would happily keep going.

“Fuckkk,” you let out, head dropping back and eyes shutting, hair spread all over his duvet. It was a gorgeous sight, and Harry drove into you faster, the sight of your tongue slipping out onto your lip spurring him on. Then he felt it, the way your walls clamped down tightly and the grip you had on his wrist tighten significantly. You were dripping all over him, and it felt so fucking good that he knew he needed to pause for a second, so he pulled out, turning you back onto your back gently.

Your eyes opened and found his with a smile. “Good?” He asked, and you nodded. “Want more?”

“Hell yes,” you answered, and he chuckled.

Then he dropped down, ducking his mouth to your waiting pussy, the sight of your wetness smeared all over your skin and the smell of your come filling his sense. He licked over your exposed skin, picking it all up with his tongue, and you moaned, obviously sensitive. But instead of stopping him, your hands found his hair and pulled him in closer, making his nose nudge against your clit. You were so. fucking. hot.

He went to town on you, licking inside and then over your clit, which he discovered you particularly liked. He worked his tongue in circles that had your head thrashing, mouth dropped open in a moan, hands a death grip on his hair. Thankfully, he’d always had a thing for that. When he pushed a finger inside of you at your request, that made your eyes roll back, and he fucked you with his fingers, first one and then two. He found your g-spot with relative ease, brushing against it and taking joy in the way your thighs tightened around his head.

Going down on you was so fun; like a new mystery he was taking deep joy in discovering all the secrets of.

You didn’t let that go on for too long, though, pulling on his hair with desperation after he’d been fucking you with his fingers particularly fast. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop, and I’d really like you inside of me again,” you said, and that made him stop immediately. He was not going to miss that opportunity.

He dropped your thighs from where he’d been holding them and moved back to his old spot between your thighs. He spit into his hand and ran it up and down his cock, getting ready to be back inside of you. To his joy, he got to watch your fingers slip down to your clit, brushing in a circle that made your hips buck up towards him.

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he pushed back into you. Somehow, you were even tighter—likely from being close and having adjusted to his fingers. It felt glorious, and he wasted no time finding a brutal rhythm. He tugged at your legs, pulling them up, so your calves draped over his shoulder, which made you scramble for skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Harry,” you moaned as he thrust into you, hands reaching for his collarbone.

He was close too, the sight of you on the edge and this feeling dizzying him. “I’m close,” he mumbled, and he watched you force your eyes open.

“I think—fuck—I think I might squirt. Is that, shit, is that okay?” The way you stumbled over your words made him smile, and so did what you said. It was a treat, something he’d never expected, but holy hell did he want.

“Fuck yes it is,” he answered, bending forward slightly so your thighs strained. “What do you need?”

“Fingers,” you replied. “On my clit. And a towel below me if you don’t mind your duvet getting wet.”

The prospect of leaving your pussy sounded downright unfathomable, so Harry decided he didn’t give a single shit about the state of his bed. He had plenty of blankets. Who cared about a duvet. “It’s fine,” he told you. Then, he reached between your legs and brushed his fingers over your clit, which made your pussy tighten immediately and your hips buck.

It was like you couldn’t control yourself, the way your hips moved. Harry had to stay incredibly close, so he didn’t slip out, but he didn’t mind. He loved how you felt around him, all consuming and deliciously wet. He wanted to see you squirt more than anything, so he was staving off his orgasm until after you finished, but the effort was torture. The distraction of rubbing your clit was helping, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

“Gonna come for me, love?” He mumbled, words tumbling from his fucked out brain. “Wanna see you squirt all over me.”

That, it seemed like, did the trick. Your walls tightened immediately, and Harry felt the rush of your orgasm immediately, coating his lower body in wet. The sight of it, mixed with the load moans spilling from your mouth and the sight of your hand gripping your breast, pulling taut on the skin did it for him. It put him over the edge, and he stuttered, his pace faltering as he came into the condom, gripping your thighs as he rode his finish, the feeling of your squirt making his finish even more intense than usual.

Panting, he gently pulled out of you, letting your thighs fall to the side. “Holy shit,” he said, chest heaving.

You laughed gently, hand dropping to the bed. “Holy shit is right.”

He looked down at your pussy, where a large area around it was wet from you squirting. Harry had only had one girl squirt on him before, and it had been a while ago, so he’d forgotten what it felt like. And how much he fucking loved it. “That was insane.” He looked up at you. “You doing okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little sticky.”

He laughed. “Want to take a shower?”

“Please,” you answered. He reached his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him help you up. When you got to sitting, he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose. The gesture made your heart warm, especially after how vulnerable you’d been with him. You hadn’t done that with every guy you’d been with, and you weren’t fully sure why you trusted him with it, but you were happy you did. Your mind was floaty, drained from most thoughts, and your body felt light in all the right ways.

He led you to the shower, turning on the hot water for you and pointing to where the fresh towels and soap were. “Going to change the sheets,” he said, giving you a kiss on the lips before leaving you to it.

You stood under the shower, letting the warm water fall on your skin. It brought you back into your body. You used the soap and washed up, cleaning all the aftermath of sex from your skin. Then, you stepped out, grabbing a fresh towel, and sat on the toilet to pee, before heading back to his room.

The bed was freshly made, the wet duvet gone from sight. Harry was still naked, tucking a blanket onto the bed when you walked in. “Feel better?”

“Perfect,” you answered. “Thanks for letting me do that.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m going to take one myself—help yourself to anything you need.”

He patted down the hall, leaving you alone in his room. It was fun to be left alone in a boy’s room, allowing you to snoop just a bit. You explored the framed photos on his dresser and bedside table, finding out he had a sister, and found some photos of him and some friends, boys you thought might be his roommates. His cologne sat on the dresser, and you made a mental note of the brand and scent name, deciding that you’d make the next boyfriend you had wear it because you loved the way Harry smelled.

A book you’d never read before sat on the bedside table and you picked it up, curious. You were reading the inside flap when Harry re-entered the room, causing you to look up. “It’s good,” he said. “The book.”

“Good to know.”

“So.” He pushed the door shut and gestured to the bed. “You’re welcome to stay the night—it’s pretty late. But if you want to head home that’s totally fine too, happy to call you an Uber. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He was sweet, you decided. That much was clear, from the way his green eyes gleamed with honesty. Sometimes guys would say all that just as a way to pressure you to leave, but this time you truly felt like he didn’t mind either way. “I’ll stay if you’re okay with it.”

Harry smiled at you, and you knew you’d made the right decision. You weren’t quite ready for the night to end, and you didn’t really feel like putting on your clothes and sitting in a stranger’s car right now. “Of course—need something to sleep in?”

“I, uh, usually sleep naked,” you said.

That made Harry split a wide grin. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

You returned his smile, and as the two of you got into his bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. If this was just a random hookup or maybe turn into a multiple time thing. Because honestly, you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. You were even curious what this boy was like during the daytime, if you were completed truthful with yourself. And as you laid on his pillows and he asked you questions about your life, seeming to be genuinely interested, you couldn’t help wonder if maybe he felt the same way.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for me!!! missed you all <;3

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x mc

993 notes · View notes

darlingdesire · 11 months

Text

PERFECT GIRL 18+

WARNINGS: plotless smut smut smut, not heavy smut though. Kind of left it on a cliffhanger.

Harry was stood at the large window of your bedroom, gazing out at the beautiful sunset when he sensed you nearing him. He turned his face to yours and instantly smiled.

You beamed in response, delicately trailing over to him and circling your arms around his middle; cuddling your body to his without a word. You missed him whilst he was out at work today. He left too soon, too early for your liking. He had just gotten back and you were desperate to make up for the missed time.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing himself against you; "I'm sorry I couldn't stay in bed longer." His voice sounded strained as he spoke. "But I had some things to take care off in the studio."

Your cheek was pressed against his shirt, his cologne tantalizing your mind and sending you into a relaxed state. He smelt so perfect—so much like home. “You should be,” You mumbled sarcastically, “The bed got cold, and that made me cold.”

He chuckled softly before kissing your forehead tenderly; "Hmm..." He hummed into your hair, pausing briefly before continuing; "Forgive me?" He smirked playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear; "...Please."

You grinned at his words and the feeling of his soft lips against your skin. “Fine... I guess...” You pretended to be petty, but your smile said differently to what you were saying. “But you gotta make up for it,” You lifted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting instantly and he had the faintest smile of content playing on his lips, “It's the rules, of course.”

“Of course,” He then nodded slowly, grabbing both sides of your face and pulling you close enough to kiss you deeply; "Anything for my beautiful wife," He whispered huskily, deepening the kiss until neither one could breathe anymore. "Now come here, let me warm you up."

You grinned into the kiss and then felt his hands leave your face and trail down to your hips, then slowly found their way to your backside. He squeezed the clothes flesh, a silent urge to call for you to move; so you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his middle.

He chuckled softly as he broke off the kiss and looked deep into your eyes; "Isn't your Husband just so strong and mighty?" His voice was forcibly low and seductive, his words intently playful.

You rolled your eyes in response to his words, a wide smile appearing on your face. You were about to reply when his face twisted into a mock frown at your eye roll

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He faked an offended gasp, giving your butt another squeeze as he neared your shared king bed.

You shrug, trying to hide the bright smile that just egged his playful attitude on; “I would never” You pursed your lips together.

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing you deeply once more. As soon as he pulled away from the kiss, he smirked mischievously, “How do you want me, Baby?” His playful attitude was no longer there, and was quickly being replaced by one manipulated by lust and darkness.

You pressed you lips to his again and felt him lower you down to the bed; “I want you out of these clothes.”

He smiled devilishly as he slowly pulled away from you and began to undress himself— first with ridding off his shirt, and then his grey sweatpants. His tattoos were on full display and so were his abs, all you wanted was to just trace the lines with your tongue and lips. “Now what?”

Your legs brushed each other as you let your eyes travel back up to his face; he was already staring at you, his green eyes dark and filled with lust and love. All for you. Only for you. “Want you to touch me.”

As soon as you said those words, he reached out towards you without hesitation, grabbing hold of your thighs and parting them further so that he could nestle between them. “Where baby?” He cooed, his voice was soft and teasing, his face was near yours and he let his lips attach themselves to your jaw, then up to meet with your lips.

His hand moved further up your thigh, gently squeezing it as it smoothed up to where it met your hip. “Here?” He continued to coo.

You squirmed under him and tried to shift around the create some sort of relief, you needed it desperately.

He kissed the other side of your jaw, his lips lingering as his forehead pressed against your upper cheek. “Maybe here...” His fingers grazed over your pussy, and your breath caught in your throat at the feeling.

“Yes...” You whispered and your eyes shut almost instantly, nodding your head slowly when be began to let his fingers explore your pussy; “There.”

He moved his face up to hover over yours, studying your features. You could sense his gaze on you through your closed eyes. His stare was intense, and his face was so close to yours, it made you shy.

His breath hitched slightly as he felt your warmth against his fingers. His head ducked down and he attached his lips to your neck, moaning oh so softly, and you let out a small gasp as he continued to touch your heat, "So beautiful."

Your hand moved to grab his wrist, making sure that his hand stayed by your heat and continued with the pattern of which he was pleasuring you with; slowly stroking your clit whilst teasingly pushing two fingers into you.

“Mmmh.." The sound came from deep within him, muffled by your skin as he moaned loudly. He squeezed your thigh tightly with his free hand, pulling himself closer to you, "Y’So good to me,” He breathed heavily, his face moved away from your neck; “So perfect—My perfect girl.”

#imagines #romance #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry styles imagine #imagine #harrystyles #harry #smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles drabble #harry smut #smut warning #mature

247 notes · View notes

apparentlytheproblem · 1 year

Note

Dating Remus Lupin headcannons?

d a t i n g r e m u s l u p i n

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- remus lupin

a/n: im so sorry it took so long, my questions are flooded and im trying my best but regardless my requests are open luvs :)

so this is actually kind of based on a boy i liked (like) and i can't say its been as happy as this but that's where i found a bit of my inspiration for this and its honestly sad but eh

requested- yes

warnings- there is a bit of insecurities and doubt showing

remus lupin was the bravest bitch of them all but when it comes to you? you wish

he would help someone burry a body without even knowing their middle name but noo, can't go sit with you in charms, pathetic

this boy isn't the type to let everyone know abt his little crush but then again james and sirius would find out immediately cause he's not very good at keeping this secret

before you guys even started talking its just staring at you in the hallways or passing by you asking sirius if you looked oml

but he wont even hold eye contact

he would acknowledge the marauders sitting next to him but he had smthn better to look at

his favourite things to do is simp for you and suffer

"i worship her" lupin agenda

remus blushing is my favourite sight to see

he has the most hypnotizing eyes ahh

he would have the sluttiest tattoos

him putting his hands around you when you talk to someone he dislikes <3

he woodlot be as touchy but deffo gonna lean on you or have his arms around you

he would give dirtiest looks

possessive lupin all the way

i'm a huge advocate of remus john lupin being the bitch who does not need or want your approval and actively support it

i feel like he would have anger issues and his cussing would be off the roof but its maintained around you

you could control him by giving him chocolate

shifting would be another thing, he wouldn't let you near him as a werewolf but you're all he wants before and after

he's pretty insecure about his scars but yk its hot

tbh personally he'd be chaotic and a little loopy but he always has his best interests lined for you

and he makes a show of what and who his priorities are

208 notes · View notes

hlficlibrary · 8 months

Text

✤ Coming Out Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint (E, 158k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

2️⃣ led by your beating heart by @missandrogyny (E, 33k)

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any help right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou.

But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something.

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

3️⃣ California Sold by @isthatyoularry (M, 123k)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

4️⃣ Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12 (NR, 208k)

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

5️⃣ Time Bomb by ThisSentimentalHeart (M, 291k)

“Why exactly are you here?” Louis asked, feigning annoyance and failing pathetically at it. “My publicist told me I can't go anywhere near you.” Harry said, eyes still smudged with last night's eye liner. “That makes you my favorite person in the world.”

Or the one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence (NR, 62k)

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

💎 That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright (T, 50k)

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

💎 some evening in springtime by delsicle / @eeveedel (M, 20k)

Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.

💎 still feel the same around you by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (E, 13k)

Twenty-five years is a long time to fall in love with someone, to learn all the ways a person can fit into one's heart. It’s also an awful long time to lie to one of the most important people in your life.

The Act My Age Girl Direction AU.

💎 Glass Heart by @musketrois (G, 7k)

“26-year-old West Ham footballer Louis Tomlinson was seen getting acquainted with 24-year-old pop sensation Harry Styles and others. Although it is not unordinary for these two professions to be social, we can’t wait to see what this budding relationship will bring to London’s social scene.”

-Celebrity Blurb 25 March, 2017

#hljournal #hltracks #hlcreators #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #trackinghome #hlsource #musektrois #momentofclarity #delsicle #yeahalright #lululawrence #agreatperhaps12 #isthatyoularry #infinitelymint #missandrogyny #thissentimentalheart #comingout #ficrec

78 notes · View notes

hum-suffer · 7 months

Text

The brothers Black

It's late. He should go to sleep. He has Harry to look after now, he should set a better example.

The said teen is sitting on the floor beside him, and for a moment Sirius is caught in the nostalgia of just how much Harry reminds him of himself.

It's a bad thing, really. He wasn't the best guy around. Hell, Sirius thinks he was probably a menace to even think about. Harry, Harry is better. Sirius remembers picking up the newborn Harry Potter in his hands and hugging him. Sirius remembers closing his eyes and apologising to the ghost of a dead Regulus because Sirius had never hugged his baby brother as much as he deserved.

Sirius puts off his cigarette and runs a hand down his face. Fuck.

Reggie.

Beside him, Harry looks at him with worried eyes. "We don't have to continue, Sirius," he says, perceptive boy. "I can leave—"

"Not necessary, kid," he says, pulling out the last of photos from the shoe box. Harry shuffles closer, almost cuddling him. Sirius quietly points out the people he never got to see grow older. Marlene, her puns and her affinity for everything yellow. Pandora, her heart and her necessity to constantly have chocolates on her person. Dorcas, her loud army boots and bright sundresses.

The last photo in his hand doesn't belong in the shoebox.

It's Reggie and him, Sirius has his brother in his arms and his lips pressed to Reggie's head, eyes closed tight. But it's Sirius, he knows this moment.

Three weeks before Sirius started Hogwarts, Reggie was sure that Hogwarts would steal his brother from him.

(Didn't it?)

Poor boy had been promising to be the best brother in the world, begging Sirius to keep loving him.

Sirius doesn't know when tears blurred his eyes but the ache in his chest comes back full force at his brother's innocent face, still red because of crying and eyes scrunched up close behind Sirius' hand. Sirius was supposed to protect him. Keep his eyes closed, never show him the blood and death that was carved into their fate.

"Regulus." Harry breathes beside Sirius and even the boy sounds pained. He leans further into Sirius and Sirius. Sirius is a greedy man. He takes the opportunity with desperation and puts his arm around Harry's shoulder, pulls him in.

(Everyone he touches will turn out dead. But Harry can't be dead, no, that's his boy, that's his child, he can't, no, not his boy—)

As they've done with every other picture, Sirius turned the photo behind to read who clicked it and when, even if he remembers the dates like they're tattooed on his spine.

But the back of the photo isn't only that. It reads,

Dearest Siri,

I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am. For the first time in my life, words fail me. I've failed everything you've ever tried to teach me— all in for a blind wish that was always impossible.

I've heard your silence, I've heard your screams and it seems that it's all I can remember. I am your shadow, no matter how much mother and father try to force the fact to be false. I want your presence, brother. I do not know how to exist without you. It is the only demand I can still make from fate— for even fate will have to pry you from my dead hands.

You are my brother. You are an ache in my chest and nowadays, I only ever breathe to feel this ache. The letters you've written to me are in my room, you will know where. The letters I've never sent you will be there. Burn them, Siri. I am going down a path of betrayal— towards you, towards our name, towards James, towards the Dark Lord as well. Of all the betrayals I've committed, my biggest regret will be not seeing you before I walk towards death.

Remember me, Siri. Let me stay alive with you. Let me take a part of you as I die.

Yours,

RA Reggie.

Clicked by Andromeda, 18/8/71

Panic burns through Sirius and he's heaving— choking on his tears and sobs and gasps.

His brother. His baby brother. He clutches the photo tighter and cradles it to his heart and wails. Regulus.

The ache in his chest blooms anew and Sirius wants to claw at his chest and find that piece of Regulus that's always lived beside Sirius' heart. Brother. My brother. My only brother. My little brother.

Regulus. Regulus. Reggie. Reggie. Reggie. Baby. Reg. Ree. Reg. Reggie.

Sirius slams his fist on the floor and he welcomes the pain that comes with it, his sobs almost cover the thuds his fist is making and he doesn't want to live. His brother. An open wound in his chest, his brother. Sirius wants to burn himself alive, like Reggie wanted to burn those letters.

"My brother." He wails, not sure if anyone will understand what he's saying but he doesn't expect them to, no one will ever understand just what his brother is, was.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Sirius heaves again. He has failed everyone he cared for, and he failed his blood the most. His boy, his brave Reggie.

Harry doesn't speak but keeps his hold on Sirius' elbow and Sirius wishes he would choke him or plunge his hand in Sirius' chest and drag his heart out— Reggie died with a wish to see Sirius, his poor brother, his baby, his Reggie— he doesn't want to live knowing how Reggie suffered and sobbed.

Because even if his brother is dead, Sirius is alive and thus, so is Reggie. Sirius can feel the sobs that must have wrecked Reggie, he can hear all the whimpers Reggie had to subside because he couldn't wake Mother and he can feel all the bile in his throat that his brother must have thrown up during one of his panic episodes.

And now, Harry rises up on his knees and holds Sirius— as Sirius was holding Reggie in that photo. As Harry's hand covers his eyes, Sirius feels the darkness that must have been the last thing Reggie saw.

#the black brothers #the brothers black #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #sirius and regulus #sirius and james #james and regulus #james x regulus #harry potter #harry potter ootp #good godfather sirius black #Regulus black angst #desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #i cried

42 notes · View notes

tackytigerfic · 2 years

Text

Howl

M ~ 8.9K ~ Werewolf Drarry

After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it. Taking part in a rebellion against a corrupt regime isn't always glamorous, but at least sometimes there are organic farmshop pastries and fancy hotel bedsheets. Just don't ask about that smell of burning.

A gift for @cluelesspigeons as part of the @drarrymicrofic Wheel of Drarry exchange.

Celina, your gorgeous microfics always have such a sense of tenderness and longing. I wanted to bring some of that softness to this fic, which also includes some of your Drarry likes (werewolf Drarry, long-haired Draco, tattooed Draco - plus some long hair and tattoos for Harry too, because he deserves nice things). Thank you for all you contribute to this fandom, in the form of your lovely words and your fabulous modding skills.

@maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w i am so lucky to have both of your brilliant minds at my disposal and will never stop being grateful for that.

Mourning Moon

Draco woke up on a Friday morning in a field hospital in Grasmere, without a single memory of how he had got there. The last thing he remembered was being in London, not two streets away from his tiny bedsit, getting a very late takeaway dinner in the only burger joint still open at that time of the night. He was sheltering from the rain and unwrapping his bean burger—no tomatoes, extra gherkins—and had felt rather than seen something moving in the darker shadows beyond the mouth of the alleyway.

And that was all there was, nothing but a horrifying blank spot in his memory before waking up here on a rickety stretcher, feeling like he had been turned inside out. His shoulder was hurting badly, the pain maybe even worse than when he took the Mark, and he could tell from the thickness of the bandages that whatever had happened to him, it was bad. He could smell the protective webbing of healing charms packed around the wound, and could feel the dittany busily knitting away at the flesh.

“Another one?”

The Healer—who for all Draco knew wasn’t even a real Healer, just someone with an O in Potions who was handy with an Episkey—wasn’t even looking at his face as she spoke, just scribbling busily on a chart and then running a cold, assessing hand over Draco’s sternum. She raised her wand to his skin.

“Another what?” Draco asked rudely, just to make the Healer look at him properly.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her voice was cool, the spark of her magic at his shoulder something like relief and something like an invasion. Behind Draco, there was a small shifting sound, a rustle of air and greenery and the warmth of something too familiar. The back of his neck prickled, but the Healer held him firmly in place.

Draco could smell the woman’s cold antiseptic scent and below that the sourness of too much coffee and the ripe smell of her body after what must have been a long shift. He could smell the ink on the quill nib, the same metallic salt to the smell as blood, and he knew then what must have happened, his heart kicking faster, the steep jump on the monitoring spell making the Healer frown. Draco allowed himself to stretch his arms, feeling the way his bones tightened under the skin, wrist bones locking for a second, making him think of lengthening strides, the wild rush of the chase, the thrill of a body made exactly fit for purpose. It was really quite unlike himself, Draco thought, looking down at his own bare torso, pale as a grub, his fingers scarred and splintered from chisels and raw wood, his Mark still there, like it always would be, inescapable.

“What happened to me?” Draco asked, needing to hear it.

“Werewolf. Bad bite,” came a voice—his voice—and Draco’s flesh pebbled into gooseflesh as though in a fresh breeze. “You’re lucky we were already onto him. If we hadn’t arrived when we did...”

“Quite right.” The Healer sounded disapproving. “You were lucky tonight, Mr Malfoy. That bite was designed to do some serious damage. Any deeper and you wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.” Her quill scraped against the chart again before coming to a decisive stop as she plucked it out of the air and shoved it into her pocket. “It’s almost as though it was… personal. We won't know for certain until the next full moon, but given the severity of the bite I think I should prescribe wolfbane. I'll check the dispensary.”

She was gone from the tent before Draco could reply, before the shame crept in a flush of heat from his chest up, before he could tell her he knew it was personal, before he could ask if there was anything that could be done for him. There wasn’t; he already knew the bite had taken, the wolf was in his blood. He could feel it as surely as though the fangs were still clamped down on him.

“It’s always personal with Greyback,” Potter said, moving around the stretcher so Draco could see him. Draco felt very suddenly like lying back down and having a messy cry. “If that’s any consolation.” He reached out a hand and patted Draco’s good arm.

It was almost too much, a sensory overload, Draco’s mouth suddenly wet and getting wetter, a prickle of sweat over his top lip, a greying fuzz across his vision before he blinked the colour back into the room.

“You alright?” Potter, at his shoulder, the scent of him already unmistakable.

“I’m—” Draco began, and then stopped before it turned into a growl at the sudden shift in the air, like a turning breeze. Not a threat, exactly, but something equally new and unsettling, the dangerous rolling whiff, the urge to take or be taken. He raised his head, inhaled. “Oh. You. You’re one too?”

Read the rest of Howl on AO3

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry squad #rowing and writing #howl #werewolf draco #werewolf harry

206 notes · View notes

historia-vitae-magistras · 6 months

Note

Do the baby rats ever return to the bilges? And by that do they spend much time with the old man? Are they free to drop in and make themselves at home?

I think it varies between them and over time.

Alfred drops in a lot. God knows there's hardly a spot in the world he hasn't made himself known but I still couldn't quite believe how many statues and memorials. The eagle squadron, the Eisenhower statue, the Reagan statue, the 9/11 memorial garden. Mark Twain, James McNeil Whistler, Harry Selfridge, FDR, Abraham Lincoln. Like goddamn I'm not sure why I was surprised but whoo. So many statues of Yanks paid for by the British.

Anyway: In the 19th century he'd actually spent time in England indulging his need for the latest technology and satiating whatever advances François or Gilbert wouldn't keep him abreast of. Nowadays, especially since the age of flight, he travels a lot and has no shame in rolling up, insulting the food but savoring the whiskey, crashing wherever he likes and drunkenly asking his father's advice. He's very free in how much space he takes up and how much time he feels entitled too. If he's jet lagged he'll just conk out on the old man's spare room and complain it smells like sheep but very much appreciate a night's sleep in a place he once called home.

Matt... He should be very comfortable in that space but he's a dipshit so imposing feels illegal. He kind of knows he can but he's also not willing to test his luck the vast majority of the time. If he's invited he'll show up on time, clean up after himself and promptly leave without causing a fuss. At least the cat's happy he's back to visit lmao. He got permission to pay for a wee fountain in the green park memorial. There was a gate we bought when Victoria locked it and we were still first dominion (Australia was still in the process of confederating.) But yeah he's welcome? Arthur doesn't mind him around if he's not underfoot. But it really was kind of a sign Jan had no idea what Matt's life was like anymore when he asked him to go stay at his dad's in the aftermath of their break up.

Jack lmao he's shameless when he wants some of the old man's attention. I don't think it's all the time, but there are a lot of links there. I swear to God I met so many Australians in England. I tumbled out of a test pit off a corner off a Hadrian's wall fortlet and there were like 6 Australians in every pub in fricken Yorkshire. He will just kind of show up with a very casual but somehow kind of prickly invitation to go to a cultural event of his artists or bands in England and the old fart isn't objecting. It took Arthur a minute to figure out that "Accadacca" meant they were going to go see AC/DC but he wasn't mad about it! Two manic fucks can have a lot of fun. They party quite hard sometimes. Jack was also very responsible for the old man's cooking improving by a metric and imperial fuck tonne. The espresso machine under the cabinet is his baby.

Zee I think is the easiest. She's as independent as Jack but that not quite dead idea that daughters are kind of allowed to be more in and out of the house makes it slightly easier for them. She rolls up and flops on the sofa demanding to be fed and watered. A full fifth of the NZ population lives overseas with Australia and the UK topping the list and if there's things she can't really do in New Zealand or she just doesn't want to live alone she'll just hop over. I feel like she goes in cycles of how independent and revolutionary she's feeling and will just kind of make herself at home if she wants another degree or something similar. She spent time in London without the old man too especially during the peak punk years and they ran into each other at a sex pistols concert. She had a full set of tattoos, an undercut and half a blunt in her system, Arthur had green hair and absolutely ripped on god knows what. She's never seen him so panicked. They stumbled home together having a hoot and throwing beer bottles at cops. Grade a hooligans, those two.

#the ask box || probis pateo #Arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats

46 notes · View notes

that-1d-blogger · 29 days

Text

I just have four words. - Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Yall

I did it.

I actually fucking did it.

I made a half decent drawing of pookie where pookie actually looks like pookie.

That too the picture I wanted of him, my favourite picture of him.

It was a 2+ year drawing battle but I got there.

I don't think y'all understand what this means to me like, ever since I started reading Hazza fanfics, i knew I wanted to draw him, and the girl, i wanted to save the scenes of my favourite books and I wanted to do that by drawing a picture of them

But the problem was i sucked. I actually sucked

Okay, no this isn't Harry's face nor was it ever intended to be, this was one of my first attempts at digital drawing.

Then I started experimenting with small things like Square animals , objects

Then eventually to like 2D characters , this would allow me to have like a good look at body and face outlines.

I thought I was ready and I drew my first ever Harry picture, which was of a famous moment.

I don't wanna face internet's wrath so I cut the actual picture just to the part of his side profile. The colour doesn't match nor do the facial features, everything is off.

Then I read Duplicity. I saw how Julez had basically just made his silhouette on a dark background. I noticed how damn good that looked. Since I obviously sucked at the facial features part I was glad I could conjure up some Harry art by myself without messing it up by adding my horrible features style

After being satisfied with this , i decided to go a bit bold and experiment with his side profile

Took more attempts than i remember but eventually I could finally manage to do it.

Feeling comfortable with my choice , i decided to go for more non face Harry fanarts , but I wanted to take it one step further.

Drawing his tattoos and making the background somewhat real or good was a bi**h. Like the actual Harry part took like 10-15 mins to draw and colour , and the rest hours were spent on making all his tattoos, and then the background setting.

And now I'm so excited because I finally did make a fanart after my first successful face drawing . I'm almost done reading one of my favourite books, Vigilante by intermissionfl0wer on Wattpad so i wanted to make a fanart about it . Here's Harry and Marshmallow

And lm in love with the way it turned out.

Thanks for reading the rant. Have a 🍪 I'm so proud of you.

--------------------

Can't wait to draw other lads.

------------------------

If u like this, you can find more of my work here

8 notes · View notes

foxes-that-run · 7 months

Text

End game

Like all Ed features, End Game is Haylor. (Ed, the O.G. Haylor MVP) it was written a few weeks after HS1 was released. Unlike other Rep songs that were revisited and have Joe references, even when they started before they met. In fact the film clip is overtly Haylor. (below) in the BTS (at 1:55) Taylor’s gets text with a scrabble move, she considers, says it is a 'tight game' and decides to leave the other player suspended. Ed blushes.

youtube

When OOTW was released Harry’s IG went B&W for 2 years until he started solo promo, apart from a few scrabble boards (in screaming colour) I have a theory he & Taylor played remotely which is why they are colour and she included this.

Here’s some footage of Joe playing scrabble. ….oh sorry, wait, that’s Harry Styles: fan of Scrabble and texting T Swift. Look at her here in the reputation book with the players names covered.. I wonder why lol

Timeline

Ed Sheeran said he wrote his part in a hotel room in New York. He told Audacy that he went to her RI home and heard Rep then the next day wrote it in a hotel in NY. 14 July 2017. (2 months after HS1’s realease)

I was playing Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, she has a place in Rhode Island, which isn't too far so she hits me up I go around. She plays me what turned out to be Reputation and End Game and I was like man this is I really like, can I do a verse can I like do a rap verse and she was like yeah for sure. So the next day i kind of I remember I was in bed and sort of woke up and i got my laptop out but the song just looped it and I wrote wrote this verse and I went in with max martin who she did the song with and recorded it and then future the verse and then Taylor wrote a verse and then yeah we shot we shot a video".

Film Clip

The film clip is less subtle in being Haylor, it takes place in:

Miami, where HS and TS hung out at Courtney Cox's house

Tokyo, where HS went on a 1D break as his first trip overseas without the band

London, where Ed, HS and Joe all live.

Haylor Easter eggs:

0:04 the ferris wheel looks like the winding wheel.

0:21 she is a passenger in a car at night

0:44 she wears a very Harry Gucci Jumpsuit

0:48 there is a polaroid

1:10 she is a single kitten mother, except Olivia is in her Rep Era lol

1:20 the 1989 Rolling Stone shoot, now in the dark with fireworks.

2:09 Taylor 'A' Swift wears an "A" shirt see: Harry's A tattoo. (When asked Harry said "uh... for my mum" which Louis said "No it's not not it's for a mystery blonde" (2:40)

2:39 she wears the Red/WANGBT hat and cane. She also wears the jacket from her red rolling stone cover.

3:13 there are 2 white bird statues that look like his chest tattoos.

3.30 she references the 1D One Thing MV bus scene

3:43 she visits this kebab shop, a similar one with a made up but similar name is in the 1D midnight memories MV. This tik tok is also about this being an ex’s kebab shop

youtube

Lyrics

I wanna be your endgame, endgame Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah And you heard about me, ooh I got some big enemies (yeah) Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we'd be a big conversation, ah

HS and TS have both had big reputations as long as they’ve know each other. Now both A-listers dating is a much bigger conversation than one dating anyone else. Her enemies of Scooter and the Kanye are relevant to the music industry.

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see) I don't wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you) Like the other girls do

New Years Day Taylor sings “Please don't ever become a stranger, Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere”.

I don't wanna hurt you (I just wanna be) Drinkin' on a beach with (you all over me)

Harry Styles Debut was released May 2017, 6 months before Rep. Harry told Radio 1 he had played it for Ed earlier. The album lays out a lot of hurt between them Taylor may not have known about in that detail. Drinking, beaches and being all over each other are solid Haylor themes, see Video.

I hit you like, "Bang" We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

Haylor hit like a bang, they met in march, were together almost immediately, he had multiple tattoos that reference her by May and they both had new albums with songs they still perform about each other by October and November. Toe were friends for a long time first and were not yet public.

Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here's the truth from my red lips

There’s a lot of Haylor references here:

They told you I was crazy, I swear I don’t love the drama is a reference to 1989’s Blank Space

I can’t let you go, Handprints on my soul fits is a theme in 1989, MMIH, Stockholm syndrome, ready for it?, Harry’s House.

The truth from my red lips refers to Style, Two Ghosts and other lip related lyrics.

Finally Taylor uses gold to describe HS in Gold Rush: “Everybody wants you, But I don't like a gold rush, What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful?”

#scrabble #haylor #end game #reputation #big reputation #1989 era

21 notes · View notes

smilesstyless · 2 years

Text

New beginning?

summary: y/n meets older harry for the first time in a bar and takes him home

pairing: older!Harry x genderneutral reader

wordcount: 1.1k+

warnings: none just fluff

"Let me guess an endless romantic person is right in front of me." You look at the man with curly hair. He looks sad, under his eyes are dark eye bags.

"Who knows?" he shrugs his shoulders. You place a shot glass right in front of him, you fill the glass. "Why are you working in a bar, you're too beautiful to work in this hole." He tilts the shot back, your cheeks turn all red from his compliment.

"So I've been working here since I was seventeen, before that I worked in a cafe but-- am I boring you?" He shakes his head.

"It's nice to talk to someone younger about silly things." He takes the bottle you left next to him on the counter.

"I think that's enough for you, you don't look good," you take the bottle from him. You don't want him to drink too much. It looks like he is going through something.

"You're not my mom, if we're going to talk about it, don't you have to be asleep, it's past your bedtime." He has a huge smile on his lips, his dimples pop out.

"Definitely not dad," you're poking his nose. "What's your name?" You lean over the counter, you pour him another glass.

"It's Harry, Harry Styles. What's your name?"

"It's y/n," you smile at the stranger named Harry. "Now tell me, are you heartbroken? You look like someone hurt you."

"I thought she was the one, but then I found out she was cheating on me. To answer your question from earlier, I can be romantic if I want to be romantic."

"I'm sorry Harry," you place a glass of tequila in front of him.

"Don't be sorry, apparently the girl who made her feel so good was better than me," he takes a deep breath, downing the drink like it was water.

"Shall I tell you something interesting? To distract you," He nods his head.

He turns around. "You see the guy above, he tries to ask me out every night, but I don't think that's going to happen today." You smile at Harry for a second.

"I would ask you out," he murmurs under his breath. Your cheeks heat up as he said that.

"Y/n, I shouldn't be doing this, but do you want to work at my place in an office? I know I'm drunk, but this isn't some stupid idea I have when I'm drunk." Harry puts his hand over your hand. "You're welcome to think about it, I need a new assistant and I think you'd be perfect for this job."

You nod your head lightly.

"I think I should go," Harry stands up, he has to hold himself onto the counter. "You know I don't take alcohol very well at my age, I think I should sober up first." You told him to sit down and that he can stay here till he can walk without holding onto something. Harry placed himself on the barstool again. You bought him a water bottle.

"Thank you, my love. I haven't met a nice person in a long time," he takes a sip from the water. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

"I can drive you home," you interlock your arm with his so that he doesn't fall.

"I'm old enough to make it in my own home," he hisses at you.

"I just want to be nice, it's one in the morning and I don't want that you walk home all by yourself," Somehow you managed to convince him to come with you and he also said that he doesn't care where he sleeps as long as he sleeps, he also assured you that he is not a murderer.

***

You woke up through a scream. Your eyes go wide as you realize that your roommate is back home and you let Harry sleep in her bed. You jump up and run to her room.

"Y/n why is there a naked man in my room?" She stands shocked in the doorway of her room. Sits upright in the bed and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

"First of all, he's not naked. He's in your bed, because he was drunk last night and I didn't want him to walk home alone." You told your roommate. As he sits up you can see a butterfly tattoo on his belly.

He grabs his pants from the surface and puts them on. "I've to go," he thanked you for the hospitality. "Oh… do you want to work as my assistant? You don't deserve it, to be around drunk people, especially men," he holds your hand in his.

"I'd love to, but–" you got cut off by your roommate.

"Did you fucked? I mean he's handsome and you are pretty you would be perfect for each other," She just says it without thinking about the consequences.

"I think I might be too old for your friend, quit your old job, and tomorrow I will show you where to start."

On his way out he closes the button from his dress shirt.

As Harry puts on his shoes, your friend pulls you into her room. "You know who you took home, don't you?" You shake your head in confusion.

"This is Harry Styles, he is the youngest CEO." Your eyes go wide, and you are completely amazed that you could have a normal conversation with him. He seems like a nice person, but in the whole meeting he always looks annoyed, your father told you. "He offered you a job," she added.

"I know what he did," you give your friend a weak smile.

"You want to take the job? Besides, he's right about all the men, I worry every night something will happen since you ended up in the hospital."

"You don't have to worry, I got this," you walk into your shared kitchen. "How old is he?" You ask your best friend.

"He's thirty-five," Lane says. You choke on your water. "Surprised?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, he looks younger," you place the glass on the kitchen counter.

"Y/n, you should take the job, he seems like he cares about you and he wants you to start there, this might be the start of a new relationship," she has a cheeky smirk on her lips.

"I won't date him," you murmur under your breath.

"We will see," she nudges you. "Tell me how it went," you roll your eyes at her. It is always like that, you meet someone, and then she tells you how good you would be in a relationship with this person.

You already know you will take this job, you never wanted to work over three years in this bar and now you got a opportunity for a new job, so you take it.0

#older!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry fanfic #harry styles x reader #fanfic #harry styles blurb #hs #harry angst #harry smut #harrys house #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

281 notes · View notes

quasi-normalcy · 1 year

Text

Worst Episodes of Star Trek by season (Revised and Expanded).

TOS:

"The Alternative Factor" - I've tried to watch this episode many times, but I don't think I've ever managed to sit all of the way through it. It's just a bunch of boring, nonsensical bullshit for an hour.

"The Omega Glory" - This is the reason why I object to framing Gene Roddenberry as some kind of visionary auteur, because this one, beyond simply having a ridiculous premise, is also really racist.

"Turnabout Intruder" - Turns out body-swaps aren't always good. Like the above, but sexist rather than racist.

"The Lorelei Signal" - An episode where Uhura finally takes command should be good, but again, more sexism (and a pointless rapid aging plot)

TNG:

"Justice" - The first season is mostly just kind of generically weak, but...ugh, those costumes.

"Shades of Gray" - Clipshow.

"The Price" - None of this season's episodes are actually bad, but I really don't like Troi's boytoy

"The Host" - Odan isn't interesting, and the bit where Beverly has sex with Riker's body is just gross.

"Violations" - Lots of bad episodes about rape on this list.

"Man of the People" - See number 5.

"Sub Rosa" - See number 6. Also, ludicrous premise.

DS9:

"The Passenger" - Did Siddig-el-Fadil just kind of forget how to act this week?

"The Alternate" - Probably the worst instance of Trek demanding reconciliation with shitty, abusive parents.

"Meridian" - Brigadoon in Space. Also featuring yet another chemistry-devoid romance for a female crew member.

"Sons of Mogh" - So the 'solution' is just to surgically alter him and delete his memory without his consent? And Julian went along with this?

"Let He Who Is Without Sin..." - Jadzia seems like a complete doormat for not dumping Worf's ass after this one.

"Profit and Lace" - I can't even be offended by the transphobia or the misogyny because of how stupid this one is. I love it.

"The Emperor's New Cloak" - The mirror universe had already been kinda run into the ground by this point.

VOY:

"Time and Again" - So boring. So pointless.

"Tattoo" - White Man's Burden. In Space!

"Favourite Son" - I don't even want to get into it, it's just bad.

"Demon" - This one could have been good if it actually paid attention to its own plot points. And the silly "needing to go to a hell planet to get deuterium" thing.

"The Disease" - Alas, Harry Kim's love life

"Fury" - Character assassination wrapped in the series' worst time travel plot.

"Endgame" - What a lousy way to end the series. No payoffs; no follow up; and the time travel thing wipes out trillions of people's lives for no compellingly good reason, and it's never discussed. The Borg are also presented as completely unthreatening villains, but this had been the way for several seasons. And it's even worse when you compare the deleted version of the early 25th century with the canonical version we see on "Picard."

ENT:

"Dear Doctor" - The 'moral' obligation to commit genocide. Fuck off.

"Cogenitor" - The 'moral' obligation to give a sex slave back to their masters. Fuck off.

"Rajiin" - Some pointless T&A; a little bad acting; and it becomes clear that there is no plan to the Xindi arc.

"These Are the Voyages..." - What a terrible insult to the series that it's supposedly the finale of.

DIS:

"Vaulting Ambition" - There's thos one scene where Emperor Georgiou murders all of her aristocratic in slo-mo cinematic detail and it just never comes up again. I hate this sort of pornographic, cavalier treatment of violence. It offends me to see human life treated in this manner.

"Point of Light" - Brings back Ash Tyler and Emperor Georgiou for an utterly un-thought-out 'intrigue' plot.

"Die Trying" - The idea that Starfleet has been using the same seed vault for a thousand years, that this seed vault is in Space, where it's vastly more vulnerable than it would be on (or inside) a planet, and that it contains seeds from *every plant in the galaxy* is so ridiculous that it undermines everything else in the episode for me.

"The Galactic Barrier" - Where it becomes most apparent that they're trying to fit ten episodes of plot into thirteen episodes.

PIC:

"Broken Pieces" - This one gets points off for completely wasting the XB plot, but it's still good because I like the bits with Rios's holograms and the character work for Jurati.

"Monsters" - There's a lot wrong with the second season, but two things that worked were Q and the Jurati/Borg Queen arc. Both of them were largely absent from this episode, and the stuff with Picard's expansion pack Victorian childhood trauma is just dreadful.

"The Last Generation" - Themes? Weight? Meaning? Non-violent solutions? Continuity? Nah. Let's just bash TNG action figures together for an hour. Also featuring the hit single 'Found Family Ain't Shit, You Need a Biological Son'

LWD:

"Temporal Edict" - This one has a generic workplace sitcom plot that doesn't really work in the Star Trek universe and also makes Freeman look like a complete idiot right out the gate.

"Mugato Gumato" - I don't think that Shaxs tasting Mugato dung was as funny as the episode seemed to think it was, and I really didn't like seeing Mariner beat the shit out of Boimler and Rutherford in the before-credits scene.

"Room for Growth" - Not bad, just kind of...meh.

"Twovix" - Again, not bad, just weakest of the season.

SNW:

"All Those Who Wander" - Ruining the Gorn and wasting Hemmer, all in one episode.

"The Broken Circle" - We really, badly needed to have this ten minute sequence of our medical personnel getting fucked-up on Green Goblin juice and beating up a hundred Klingons, eh?

PRO:

"Kobayashi" - Again, this one isn't actually bad, but it's just nostalgia for the sake of nostalgia; and I think that Dal's character growth should be earned through interaction with his friends, rather than with stock audio of Leonard Nimoy.

#star trek #the next generation #deep space nine #voyager #enterprise #Discovery #Picard #Prodigy #lower decks #strange new worlds #the original series #it's actually very difficult to pick 'bad' episodes for Prodigy or the seasons 3 and 4 of TNG

83 notes · View notes

alarrytale · 6 months

Note

Seeing larries kissing Louis' ass in his new post honestly just grosses me out. Do y'all not have any self-respect? Why are so many larries fine with being his punching bag, his scapegoat, being gaslit and manipulated, and having him add fuel to the larrie hate train? I love him too. But at some point, he has to realize this shit isn't okay. It's not okay to speak to your fans this way and disrespect them. To single one fan out. And to do it so publicly where the media can pick it up, where the solo louies & harries, antis, and gf stans can use it as ammunition against us. I can't even go on the pop culture subreddits I like bc of how badly the hate is against us. Not only was this a stupid fucking move before trying to sell tickets in LatAm but why in the world would you treat the fans who have stuck by you since the beginning this way? We've seen through the bullshit in both 1D and his solo career. We've seen through the false image that was painted of him, although now he seems more than happy to play along. We've tried to be there for both him (and H) because THEY made it very clear for YEARS that they were together, closeted, and fighting back. Look, I get it some larries are doing way too much with their theories esp the ones that think Louis, Harry, and T*ylor are all gay beasties who are going to bring down the industry together. But they started this shit. They encouraged fans to look deeper. They came up with the name Larry Stylinson, not us. They got the corresponding tattoos and made it very obvious, not us. Louis got the dagger. They did rbb and sbb, which really caused fans to start theorizing. Louis did the Spotify canvases that connected back to H and Larry. Louis did the promo (was it for Walls?) where we had to find the different locations, and they almost always had a Larry reference nearby (I know I didn't explain that example well). Louis specifically puts H and Larry references in his music that he knows we know about. He's the one that put out the Just Like You music video. He's the one that put Style on the wall of the Miss You video. They're the ones that continuously use blue and green lights. Louis specifically interacts with Larries and Larry related signs and flags at his show. I mean, the list goes on and on. So, if you want people to chill out on Larry, how about you stop feeding it? Because this whole back and forth is exhausting and mentally draining. I'm really fucking tired of being made the joke of this fandom by Louis when we've done nothing but see him for who he really is and love him for that. And now the harassment and death threats have skyrocketed from solos, hets, gf stans, stans of other fandoms, and people into pop culture. I'm tired of seeing mental health being used as an insult against us as well because Louis and Harry not only started this, they encouraged this behavior from larries for YEARS. And then you have people who used to be around them (from xf times) Rebecca and mainly Katie talking about how truly horrible XF, Syco, and Modest were. How truly manipulative. How horribly they treated everyone, esp the boys. I mean, she's even talked about how the boys still have some of the same people around them since the early days. I know she went after larries one time (maybe more bc I stopped listening to her after that), but she made sure to talk about them and basically say without saying that a lot of our theories about xf, management, and syco weren't far off. Others around them have played into Larry. So, why doesn't he tell them to stop. Like, stop going after fans for something you created and encouraged for years. Just ignore it until you're ready to come out, if that ever happens.

I do have a question. I know stunts suck and Harry has been stunting a lot. I know H*livia was extremely upsetting. But why do larries seem to get more people upset at Harry for doing a pap walk with T*ylor, or even the ones he did with OW where he was obviously miserable, then they do with Louis outright shitting on us - multiple times? I'd much rather see Louis have to do a pap walk or two with some girl than throw fans under the bus, you know what I mean? Because while stunting sucks, it's playing the Hollywood game and something they probably are required to do to uphold the het image. Choosing to shit on fans shouldn't even be on the table if we mean as much to you as you say.

Sorry for the rant and rambling. I'm just really hurt and have so many feelings and probably didn't express everything properly. I don't recognize this "Louis," and it's really put me off. I thought we were a team, and now I just feel completely unwanted by him.

Let it out, anon 🧡

I know this hurts, especially for those of you who haven't experienced this before. We shouldn't have to deal with this. I think most people are able to ignore it and move past it because they know he's closeted and why he's doing it. They know that Louis doesn't love them any less, despite what his public twitter account might suggest. We know he's got little agency and we know he's being made to do things against his will. We see past his image and actions.

I would prefer him stunting over lashing out against his fans too. Maybe that's not an option or maybe he didn’t have a choice. Either way it isn't okay. It wasn't okay in 2012 and it isn't okay now. The only thing we can do is stop supporting him and giving him our money. Some love him and want him to succeed, and fight with him against the chains holding him back. He won't be able to do that without larries. So they keep supporting him and live in hope that things will change for the better someday. It's up to you to decide what your limits are and what you can and can't support.

#long post #louis underscore #louis image #fandom #solo louis

16 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

aylkom

время вышло

bad-wolf-costumes

Bad Wolf Costumes

03junkie

karsh

enchan-new

aabeve

Aabévé Vertaalbureau