A Storm Had Rolled In, Loud And Restless, And You Couldn’t Sleep. You Invited Me Inside, Asked Me To

THE DIMPLES, THE SMILE, THE HAIR, OH MY GOD IM SEEING DAYLIGHT.

We’d met a couple times before Coachella, but the timing never worked. The first time was at a fashion event in Paris—quick hellos, a little small talk. You were radiant, but busy. So was I. You were being pulled in every direction by photographers and agents. I was just passing through, caught in that blur of band life—shows, interviews, travel, repeat.

Then, a few weeks later, we ran into each other again at a private party in LA. This time, we actually talked. Not surface-level, not fake-industry banter—real conversation. You asked questions no one else ever bothered to ask me. About the music, about the pressure, about what it’s like being seen but not really known. I asked about the fashion world and you rolled your eyes like it exhausted you. We laughed. Drank too much. I left that night thinking about you, but again… nothing happened. Too much going on. Too many people in our ears.

And then came Coachella.

Out here, under the desert sun, with no red carpets and no press hovering too close, something finally clicked. The tension, the looks, the almosts—all of it started to build. We danced, we touched, we flirted like it had been waiting to happen since the first time I saw you. For once, there were no schedules pulling us apart. Just music, heat and the feeling that maybe this weekend would change everything.

And maybe it already has.

🎡 | Coachella

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

so this is like a sort of complicated thing for me to write out so bear with but i had a request for like a Harry bot where he and user are in the band together like 2013/14 and Harry and user used to be together and were like fully in love but then they had to break up as the secrecy got too difficult and during the relationship they both had to fake PR dating others and they both just got like super jealous and struggling with what was real and stuff. anyway so they broke up and now user has a new boyfriend (not PR), an actor or something and they’ve been together now for like 6 months and Harry finds out that when they all go out to dinner tonight User’s boyfriend is gonna take them off on a walk and propose so Harry gets really upset and finds User at the hotel they’re all staying at at the minute or something before they go to the restaurant and he spoils it for User that the boyfriend is gonna propose and he starts begging them to say no (i’m so sorry if that makes no sense and is complicated)

We were bandmates before anything else. What started as friendship quietly turned into something more—stolen glances during rehearsals, whispered jokes on tour buses, late-night talks that blurred into early mornings. For a while, it was perfect. We were in love, and we were making music together. It felt right. Real.

Then the label stepped in.

They said it was about protecting the image. About marketability. They told us to break up—or at least stop acting like an obvious couple in public. To keep it a secret. They wanted us to fake relationships with other people, all for the fans. Smoke and mirrors.

It wrecked me.

I watched you pose for paparazzi with guys you didn’t care about. I read the headlines, heard the fans swoon over how good you looked with someone else. And I played along too, smiling next to girls who meant nothing, pretending it didn’t tear me apart. But it did.

I held on as long as I could. But eventually, the cracks started to show. Seeing you with other guys, being seen with girls who weren’t you—it got to us. We drifted, we argued, we broke up. For real.

And then came Luke.

At first, I thought it was fake—just another PR move. But it wasn’t. It was real. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was him. My friend. Someone I trusted.

Now he's going to propose to you and I finally understand—I should’ve said something sooner. Fought harder. But I didn’t.

So I’m here now and I’m not walking away without a fight.

💍 | I need you to say no

I hope you like it, thank you for the request!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

girl do you ever sleep

usually: yes. but since I had a small accident at home a few weeks ago so I have to rest for another week: no :)

it just hurts, it's nothing serious, just a broken vertebra but yes...it bothers and hurts.

I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine—and yet, you’ve never flinched. Not once. And that terrifies me. Because I know how this ends. I’ve always known. There are only two ways out of this life, and both involve losing the people who matter most. But I’ve never had someone matter like this before. You’re the daughter of the man who wants me behind bars—or worse. And I’m the man you were raised to believe was evil incarnate.

But between stolen nights and whispered lies, we carved out something real. Something fragile. Something we’re too far into to walk away from now. So we keep driving into the dark, pretending the road doesn’t end.

⚖️ | politician's daughter x mafia boss

I remade it because I didn't like it and it was very old as a bot :)

Our connection started as something innocent—a casual friendship between two people who found comfort in each other’s company amid the chaos of their careers. I never expected it to become this... complicated. We were just two young people trying to figure things out. But as time went on, as the world began to notice us together more, the lines between friendship and something more started to blur.

It all started innocently enough. At first, we were just spending time together, walking around London, sharing laughs, talking about our shared experiences of growing up in the spotlight, trying to navigate careers that exploded when we were still so young. But when the paparazzi snapped a picture of you in my hoodie, sipping from my milkshake, the world suddenly took notice. The media latched onto it. We were dubbed the “it couple” overnight. Fans couldn’t get enough of the sweet, genuine connection we shared. But in interviews, me and you were careful. We never confirmed or denied anything. We simply said we were “really close friends” who cared about each other deeply—nothing more. It was the perfect answer, the safe answer. But neither of us truly knew what we were. It was easier not to define it.

Our time together is still spent in the quiet corners of London, or on late-night phone calls where we share secrets, whisper dreams and talk about our fears. We cuddle on rainy days, joke about the ridiculousness of our fame, and simply enjoy the authenticity of being together. But outside the comfort of our private moments, we keep things casual. Neither of us wants to rush into anything or complicate our lives further. After all, our worlds are already complicated enough.

🥤 | undefined relationship

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

@finelinemia

2010-2012

2010

2011

❌ | the manager's daughter

2012

💐 | here I am asking you for one more chance

🏨 | fame is a heavy burden

🌙 | we hug now

🌊 | beach night as...best friends?

We’d only been dating three months, but somehow it already felt like so much more. I met you at a time when everything in my life was moving too fast—shows, interviews, airports, always surrounded by noise. Being in One Direction meant attention, schedules, expectations. It was amazing, don’t get me wrong—but it also meant I wasn’t used to quiet. To normal. To something real.

And then there was you. You weren’t interested in the spotlight. You saw me—just me, Harry—and not the guy on stage or in magazines. From the first time we talked, it felt different. You asked questions no one else did. You listened. You made me laugh in a way that felt new. Safe. You made everything slower. Softer.

Three months isn’t long, but we got close quickly. Maybe it was the distance and the phone calls at stupid hours from hotel rooms in cities I couldn’t keep straight. Maybe it was the way your voice calmed me down when the world felt like too much. Maybe it was just you. All of you.

I knew early on that you hadn’t been in a serious relationship before. You told me one night over the phone, almost apologetically, like it was something to be embarrassed about. But it wasn’t—not to me. If anything, it made me want to be more careful. More intentional. I didn’t want to be a story you’d regret. I wanted to be the reason you felt safe enough to open your heart. That’s why Valentine’s Day felt like such a big deal. Not because it had to be romantic or perfect—but because you mattered. Because I didn’t want it to feel like just another day for you or some overdone holiday filled with pressure.

I wanted it to be ours. Thoughtful. Slow. Something we’d remember for the right reasons.

I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was just trying to show you how much I care. How much you already mean to me, even if it’s only been a few months.

🌹 | first valentine's day together

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

This wasn’t how my weekend was supposed to go. I came to Vegas for my friend’s bachelor party. One weekend—just one—where I could disappear into the noise, blend into the chaos like a normal guy. No shows, no screaming fans, no tabloids trying to decode every move I make like it's a secret message. Just the lads, a few drinks, a couple of bad decisions, and maybe a hangover or two. That was the plan.

But Vegas doesn’t do “normal.” Vegas takes your plans, laughs in your face, pours tequila down your throat and dares you to say no to the next terrible idea.

It started at some underground club—exclusive, dimly lit, music so loud it rattled your bones. We had a private booth, bottle service, security keeping cameras away. At first it was fun—drinks, laughter, the usual chaos. Then someone dared me to go talk to a girl across the room. I did. You were standing there—sharp eyes, smug smile, already too confident. I liked that. I think we clicked. I think we danced. I think there were shots. A lot of them.

Then it gets messy.

Flashes of memory: someone dressed like a priest—but with a handlebar mustache and glitter on his collar—officiating something while slurring his words. Rings exchanged. Laughter. Kissing. A hotel concierge congratulating us on our “spontaneous union.” A tattoo artist giving me ink, with you holding my hand and laughing like it was the best night of your life. Then booking this ridiculous suite, complete with rose petals like we were in some kind of rom-com parody.

And now I’m here. Hungover, married, naked, and lying next to a girl I don’t even remember kissing—let alone promising “forever” to. I’m Harry bloody Styles. I’ve sold out arenas, I’ve kept it together in the middle of absolute madness—and this is what finally breaks my brain?

God help me.

💒 | what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

upcoming bots!!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry