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#1d ot5
perksofagoldenaura · 8 months
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the only bun tutorial you’ll ever need:
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around1302 · 1 year
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SPARE PARTS
harry styles x female OC 18+ series
[COMPLETED]
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Spare Parts has always been the five of them: Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis, and Charlie. Best friends, practically family, for the last six years. All, except, the band’s lead singers – Harry and Charlie.
Harry’s been hopelessly in love and Charlie’s been none the wiser, so he of course drops at the chance of a sneaky enemies with benefits agreement whilst embarking on their second world tour…
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SERIES: here
EXTRAS: character list/face claims, tour bus, moodboards, ig stories
BLURBS: you wrote me
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susshirestaurant · 1 year
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photogrrrl4ever · 8 months
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I ❤️ tumblr girls!
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ohforfucksssake · 1 year
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the fact that we can measure the level of harry's happiness by "did he kiss a man there or not?"
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welovelouisandbucky · 2 years
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@lokis-girl03 👀
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cigsandchampagne · 1 year
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Happy Larryween!
Here’s Larry as Gomez and Morticia
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Bonus ot5 as the rest of the fam
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wellbealrightipromise · 9 months
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which was more culturally significant: the renaissance or liam commenting on zayn’s post and zayn responding to it?
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sagephoria · 1 year
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Harry Styles thanked each One Direction member tonight.
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No matter what drama they went through and no matter what happened while they were a group, he still spent a big part of his life with these boys.
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No matter what life throws at us, even the people who hurt us help us grow and learn more about ourselves. No matter how distant people become, they once were once in the same boat.
I hope nobody’s crying as hard as I am rn😭✌🏻
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sillyb00ks · 1 year
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How I imagined the guys reacted to Harry’s speech
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ziammyloves25 · 2 years
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August 24, 2022
Louis replies to a tweet about Zayn posting videos singing 1D songs.
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Tweet
Louis reply tweet
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perksofagoldenaura · 7 months
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no one:
harry: 🌊 😾 🌊
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around1302 · 9 months
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YOU WROTE ME
SPARE PARTS: blurb 1/1
THE TROUBADOUR, LONDON
(W) strong language, alcohol use, brief smut: if u can call it that
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THIRD PERSON’S POV
9 MONTHS POST-SPLIT
“Why can’t you just trust that it’ll be fun?”
“Because you don’t even know who’s playing! What if it’s some screamo guy and I get traumatised.”
“Please, Charlie, you’ve met my friend. You think he’s going to guitar for a screamo guy?”
Charlie pauses, remembering everything she can from the brief meeting between her and Becca’s friend at her house party last week.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
Becca rolls her eyes, nodding in gratitude at the bouncers who let them into the Troubadour, past the lines and lines of people. Charlie has to admit that’s promising, at least. Surely a hundred teenage girls wouldn’t be queueing for something unworthwhile.
“I thought as a musician you’d be buzzing for a free invite to the Troub!”
Charlie’s turn to roll her eyes, now.
“The Troub?”
“Let me pretend I’m in on the lingo, too.”
“God, you’re just making it worse.”
Becca is Charlie’s only remaining friend from her pre-band days. In contact far too little, but enough to see each other in between schedules. Becca manages a restaurant in London, and throws killer house parties every Saturday. It’s ritual.
Of course, with band life, Charlie barely ever attended. But since the split and a (much too long) nine month hiatus from the industry, she’s had a little more time for living her 20s like she never entered that competition in the first place.
“You want a drink?” Becca shouts over the already loud crowd. Just as Charlie opens her mouth to answer, her forearm’s gripped so tightly she’s sure the blood supply’s been cut off.
“Oh my God! Charlie Greene?” A girl practically screams in her face, holding the hand that isn’t keeping Charlie there in a death grip over her mouth.
Despite her usually extreme routine when it comes to being avoided in public, Charlie assumed tonight could be a one off. Who would recognise her in this crowd, in this venue? Panic strickens her before Becca has to step in, shoving the girls palm off.
“Dude, don’t touch strangers like that.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m just such a huge fan. I can’t believe you’re here! We all thought they were just rumours.”
“What?” Charlie’s dumbfound, forgetting all that media-trained ‘smile at the fans, don’t let them know you want to punch them’ bullshit.
“You know, you and–”
“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice kid, but we’re just trying to enjoy our night. You want me to buy you some alcohol to get you to go away?”
“Becca–”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, of course. E-enjoy your night.”
The poor girl scurries away, screaming something to her group but Charlie’s too riddled with guilt to hear what.
“For fuck’s sake, Becs, she’s like sixteen!”
“Gripped you like a forty year old WWE champ though, look at your arm!”
Charlie glances down, noticing the white and red splotches beneath the hazy blue lights. Becca has a point, even if she was a little harsh about it.
“Screw the drinks, let’s just get backstage before anyone else tries to cut off your circulation.”
Nodding, Charlie follows Becca through the crowd, making sure to keep her head down this time. Of course they’re asked for IDs and stage passes before getting through, Becca proudly letting security know they’re friends of the guitarist.
“I’m so proud of Mitch, man. He’s come so far. Can you believe he used to work in a pizza shop?”
“I know, it’s impressive shit,” Charlie nods, hugging her hoodie tight to her chest. Something bad swirls in her gut as she watches the audience from the safety of a thick curtain, seeing whispers and screams shared.
“You don’t think that’s about me, do you?” She points for Becca. Becca scoffs.
“Nah, don’t get too up your own ass, Char. The act’s probably about to come on.”
The band will be entering from stage left, opposite to them both. Charlie has to admit she’s curious. It’s been forever since she’s attended any kind of underground gig, it’s exciting – what music’s really about.
“Gemma Styles.”
Until that moment.
Ears ringing, throat drying, sweat forming. Charlie grips her hoodie so tight her knuckles blanch – she’s wrong, she has to be. It’s just her mind and anxiety playing tricks on her. It’d be impossible for–
“No way, Charlie?”
“Fuck.”
“… Charlie?”
“I mean hi! Sorry, hi!”
Pretending her ears aren’t still painfully ringing, Charlie accepts the open arms of the woman in front of her. Specifically, the sister in front of her. Her ears stop buzzing enough for her to hear Becca’s gasp beside her, and enough to hear her heart coming up through her throat.
“I can’t believe you’re here, it’s so good to see you!”
The one thing Charlie never understood was how Harry could be so intolerable and Gemma could be so… Gemma. Despite the ugliest truth she’s discovered in a while coming undone, she feels somewhat comforted by her hug and her words and her smile.
Perhaps they’re all a little too alike Harry, or perhaps the opposite. She can’t tell. There’s a lot happening.
“Yeah, um…” at a complete loss for words, Becca quickly steps in.
“Hi, I’m Rebecca. Friends with the guitarist.”
“Oh, Mitch! Isn’t he amazing? I’m Gemma, Harry’s sister.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.”
Charlie shoots Becca a pointed glare. She apologises again, a little more sincerely this time.
“So does Harry know you’re here? Bet he’s thrilled, are the others here?”
“Um, no. And no. Not that I know of. I’m actually here for Mitch, too.”
“Oh, I–” Gemma frowns, understandably confused, but is cut off by the house lights dimming and some opening music starting.
Charlie pinches at her arm beneath the once soft material, it only now feels scratchy and too thick. Should she run? It seems like her only viable option. Except her feet are failing her and it’s too fucking late because–
“Hi everyone! I’m Harry, it’s a pleasure. This is my wonderful band, and we’re going to play a few songs for you. Starting with a new one, this is Complicated Freak.”
Frozen to her place, Charlie listened harbouring feelings she couldn’t quite place. Part of her wishes she had just done those few shots before she left like Becca had quite smartly suggested, but a larger part of her wishes she never came.
Because fuck, has she missed him.
She’s missed his voice, and his hands, and his eyes, and his dimples, and she could say she’s missed his hair but that’s gone with the last nine months. She missed watching him concentrate entirely too hard on playing the guitar and she missed watching that crease form between his brows as he closes his eyes and just feels the music. His music.
The music that sounds eerily familiar. Then suddenly flashes of a tour bus come to mind; long hair and slender fingers strumming a guitar. Lyrics that rendered a little to close to home but were promptly ignored at the time now echo the venue, echo her chest.
“Thank you so, so much everyone. I’ll see you soon!”
Harry lifts his palm to the roaring crowd, intimate and small yet still as deafeningly loud as she remembers them always being for him. Begging for an encore, or at the very least one more wave.
But it’s only then that she realises, still stuck to the floor, that he’s taking his guitar off. He’s offering the audience one final bow and kiss, and he’s turning, and he’s walking, and he’s grinning ear to ear and accepting his friends and family’s congratulations, and then he’s stopping, and he’s staring, and his lungs have stopped and his heart has faltered and–
“You wrote me.”
His lips quiver, paused in an effort to say the right thing. Say anything.
“Yeah, I…”
It’s as if the venue and people around them grew wings and flew away as time itself stopped just for them. The first time they had seen eye to eye in the time you could grow a whole fucking baby for God’s sake – and yet they could barely speak. So much unsaid, it’s almost too much. What do you start to say to the love of your life – who you lost?
Luckily, the people around them didn’t actually grow wings.
“We’ll see you later, H,” his older sister squeezes his dead arm, nodding towards Charlie (as if she saw) and then the other confused onlookers who had developed behind them during the show but fuck if Charlie noticed.
Gemma leads the group out, leaving the pair of them in a silent standoff, the muted sound of a dying crowd and crew starting to clean punctuating the quiet.
“Drink?”
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“I wanted to call you so many times.” Charlie finally admits, three double vodkas deep.
“Why didn’t you?” Harry almost whispers four whiskeys in.
Malibu’s, their old, usual haunt, has been avoided for the last nine months. Not a single band member dared to go, whether it be that Zayn no longer bartends there or that they were afraid of memories. But it felt like the only place for them to be right now. Elbows leant on the same sticky counter, knees pressed together in their tipsy mis-care, no time passed yet the whole world between them.
“I was scared.” Charlie begins. “I needed time, and after I realised that you leaving us didn’t really matter in the end, I was too late.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Harry. I saw the tabloids. A month after we split you were seen with this person, that person. You had moved on from us, from me.”
Her confession is startlingly sobering, and Harry can’t help but gulp down a painful lump at the way her eyes water. Harry hadn’t moved on in any sense of the word, Harry was simply trying to find Charlie in anyone he could. The way in which he had coped with his web of feelings for the woman for the past six and a half years.
“I could never move on from you, Char. I was just… lost.”
Charlie snorts, turning to down the rest of her drink.
“Baby I–”
They both freeze. Harry didn’t mean to call her that, but God, doesn’t it feel natural? Isn’t that why it slipped out in the first place? Yet, a slap in the face would have felt better for Charlie. The vodka gets caught in her throat, the once warm liquor running ice cold down her chest.
She turns, her heart melting at the sight of his face. It’s that same heartbreaking, broken concoction of regret and worry knitting his brows and dripping from his eyes. And it has her lips hungrily on his.
He catches her, grabbing her hips as he opens his legs for her and draws her to his chest, breathing in every inch of her. Because that’s what kissing Charlie is like. Oxygen for the first time, water for the first time, life for the first time. His rough hands snake up her back, grip her sides, pinch her skin. Her nails rake at the nape of his neck, muscle memory expecting locks to hold onto but finding short curls as their home instead.
Their tongues and lips work in an unspoken agreement, all the way to her new apartment by the bar, all the way to her bed.
They didn’t speak. They were both far too terrified to lose this moment. They just needed each other, the touch they’d both been desperately chasing for months. Charlie closes her eyes as Harry’s mouth starts its attack on her neck and is transported to Louis’ apartment, where she first felt that same desperation.
“Please.” She breathes, wrapping her legs around his hips, eliciting from him a muffled groan as she grinds up towards him. He nods into her neck, his lips still working down her soft skin. She still tastes the same, that strawberry vanilla he could drink by the gallon.
Charlie claws at his back, making an attempt to remove his black button-up as he moves down her body. She just about manages it as he settles between her legs, pushing up her denim dress without grace or care before biting the edge of her knickers.
The heels of her feet press into his toned back, her palms already fisting the sheets as he harshly grips her hips to push her back into the mattress.
A million thoughts run through Harry’s head, but fear holds him back from saying a single one of them. Months ago, he would’ve told Charlie everything. How good her thighs feel, how fucking pretty she looks laying there, needy for him. How much her soft little pants sound like she should be begging for him, how hard he is for her like this.
But he can’t. For all he knows, he’s simply a mouth right now. He’s not Harry, he’s just something she needs, and fuck if he’ll be whatever she needs.
So he bites into her inner thigh, sucking away the sharpness as she grips and tugs at his hair. He moans into her skin, eyelashes fluttering against her hips as he kisses the top of her pubic bone. His touch is rough in every place but his lips as he makes a path to her core, pressing teasing kisses over her clit. Her knickers are fucking soaked through, and the sight alone is enough to send him berserk.
“Charlie, I’m gonna have to–”
“Please, just–”
With that sliver of permission, he reaches down, squeezing himself over his trousers. The slightly relieved pressure has him gasping against her lace, which quickly becomes wetter. Charlie sits up on her elbows, watching Harry touch and squeeze while he continues to tease her.
And it’s there. In between the need and the pleasure, Charlie begins to cry. Softly, quietly, but enough to garner Harry’s distracted attention.
“Hey, hey,” Harry moves back up her body, tugging her dress back into place as he squeezes her hip, “I’m sorry, I-”
“It’s fine.” Charlie’s voice cracks as her head hits the pillow, hot tears quickly meeting her hairline before she can wipe them away.
“Sweetheart–”
“I’m not your fucking sweetheart.” Charlie murmurs between gritted teeth, sending Harry aback. He sits up on his heels, his touch slowly leaving her. Charlie presses her palms into her eyes, squeezing the tears out as she muffles sobs against her hands.
“That’s the problem.”
It’s hardly above a whisper, but Harry hears every last syllable. Leaning back over her, he removes her fists, gently brushing her blotchy cheeks.
“I’m just drunk and emotional and weird and–”
“Stop it,” Harry murmurs, pulling her up to sit in front of him. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” When she doesn’t budge, he drops his head and whispers, “please.”
Charlie finds his eye. In so many ways, he’s unchanged. He still looks at her like that, and it crumbles her, just as easily as it did all those months ago.
“Everything got so fucked up, Harry. The band, me, us. I haven’t sang a chord in months. I see the guys, what, once, twice a month? And you…”
“It’s my fault, Char.” Harry sighs, collapsing beside her, rubbing his face. “I left, I split everyone up–”
“You needed to.” She interrupts, stern. “I didn’t realise at the time, it took me a while to accept it, but you needed to. Niall was starting a family, everyone was starting to burn out, even if we didn’t want to admit it.”
“You did the right thing.”
Those fives words are all that Harry’s wanted to hear for nine months. He’s spent countless, sleepless nights wondering if he’d messed everything up for everyone, forever. If in his selfishness he’d forgotten to use logic.
“I’m just not sure I did.”
Harry frowns, turning to look at Charlie.
“What do you mean, Charlie?”
“I worry that I was… hasty. Rash.”
Harry can’t help the small smile that starts to tug at his lips. He lifts his knees and rests his chin on his palm to hide it.
“I did a really messed up thing, you were justified.”
“No.” Charlie sighs, looking at the ceiling. “I was right to be mad, but I wasn’t right to have said all the stuff I did. I was especially not right to leave you.”
Harry’s chest jumps, but he tries to calm his excited heart before Charlie can finish. When it comes to her, there’s no real predictability. She might be about to destroy him all over again.
“Those six years mean more to me than anything I’ve done in my entire life. You were there through everything, every shitty and amazing thing, all I can think about is flashes of you. My sister, my audition, my first heartbreak, my first– I could go on and on, but the point is, you were there.”
“Even if you annoyed the shit out of me for the better part of it, you’re my life, Harry. I was stupid to think I could ever live it in the same way without you.”
It’s impossible to fight his grin, now.
Charlie finally turns to face him, instantly rolling her eyes at the sight of him. His entirely too wide smile, his glinting eyes and how they quickly flit to her lips, the twitch between his brows that lets her know he’s holding back a comment.
And despite his speechlessness, his answer is obvious.
“You sure you don’t want someone easier?” Charlie lilts, swaying into him.
“Why on Earth would I want anyone else?”
“I don’t know. I yell at you a lot.”
“I’d rather have you hate my guts than have anyone else.” Harry takes her waist, easing her beneath him again as he hovers over her. “I’ve spent my entire life waiting to hear you say that, you know.”
“Entire life is a bit dramatic.” Charlie drapes her arms around his neck, her fingers finding his nape. That hair is going to take some getting used to.
“Nope,” Harry pops his P, leaning down to press a kiss to her jaw. “You’re my life too, Char.”
She leans back into the pillow, her thumb circling his neck. “You mean it?”
It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, now.
“You really have to ask? What more could I possibly do to prove to you that you’re it for me, you always have been.”
Charlie smirks. “I could think of something.”
“Always thinking with your dick, Greene.”
Charlie lets out a scoff, and Harry let’s his chest do whatever it wants.
@lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles
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Sometimes I just don’t understand solo harries. Like our man is going around saying we should treat people with kindness and he even named his tour LOVE on tour. And then some harries come along and hate on people he’s was friends with!! People who are probably still very important for him. If he’d see all of that, he’d be so pissed off.
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rosetylerxthedoctor · 2 years
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Y’all look what I found at a thrift store yesterday! 😭 This is like super exciting!!!! Can’t believe it like at all. Best thrift score ever! & I only paid 14 dollars for it! Super lucky! Love it so much.
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louisharry-28 · 2 years
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HARRY STYLES WHATTTTT!!!! Why i have never seen thiss!!!
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