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zablife · 1 year

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A Gift for My Wife

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Tommy wants to surprise his wife with an extravagant surprise after the birth of their new baby, but things don’t go to plan.

Author’s Note: Written for @runnning-outof-time ’s Holiday BINGO Challenge. I used the prompts: a confession, hurt/comfort, a family tradition and forced proximity.

Warnings: language, mention of pregnancy, mention of cheating, lots of fluff

Looking out from behind the curtains of the nursery, you stared longingly at the stables. It had been months since you’d given up your daily rides with your husband and you missed the time with him desperately. The tiny bundle in your arms shifted beneath her blankets, cooing softly to break your reverie. You smiled down at her, heart swelling with pure love. You didn’t resent a moment of the time you’d given up for her, but you were aching to return to your first passion.

Like Tommy, you’d learned to ride as a child and it was something you’d bonded over when you first met. Even as Tommy’s empire grew, he always made time in his busy schedule to go riding with you because it was a way of staying connected. You would discuss your hopes and dreams for the future or simply make each other laugh as you stayed in constant competition over who was the better rider.

The tradition stood for three years until the day you learned you were pregnant. You’d wanted a family for so long, neither of you wanted to take any chances when it came to your child. So you’d given up riding in favor of time in the library. However, it quickly devolved into watching Tommy work as you read a book and the interaction wasn’t the same.

Tommy had seen your distant look as you sat across from him, but didn’t know how to rekindle the spark until he heard news of the Doncaster Blood Stock. It gave him a wonderful idea to give you a gift in exchange for the most precious gift you’d ever given him, his beautiful baby girl. He wasn’t known for grand, romantic gestures, but this occasion called for something unique so he made a call, smiling to himself as he thought of taking you on a special outing.

One week later, you kissed the baby goodbye and bundled yourself into a warm coat, waving goodbye to Frances. Tommy placed his hand on your knee, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “She’ll be alright for one day, love,” and you nodded in agreement.

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” you said with a nervous giggle. This was very unlike your husband.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he answered, flicking his cigarette out the window.

When you arrived at the horse auction, your heart thrilled with excitement. Tommy offered you his arm and you pulled yourself closer to your husband as people bustled all around you. “Tommy, I don’t understand. We can’t afford another horse right now,” you pointed out, always the voice of reason.

“Well, we can have a look, can’t we? No law against that,” he said, guiding you up the stairs in front of him.

“This is awfully expensive window shopping,” you said, but you secretly loved the idea of viewing all the thoroughbreds.

When you’d found a place in the gallery overlooking the ring, you leaned over the railing for a better look. Then you took time to survey the room. Men were marking papers and reviewing documents around you. “What are they doing?” you asked.

Tommy lit a cigarette, blowing smoke over his shoulder as he surreptitiously glanced at the man to his right. “Those are reports from the vet,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You mean you don’t get to run hands over them first?” you asked, remembering how Curly liked to inspect a new horse.

“No, that’s not the way the toffs do it,” Tommy said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “They like their paperwork.”

“What’s your method then?” you asked with a curious smile playing on your lips.

“I keep an eye open when they walk,” he said gesturing toward the ring with his cigarette. “That’s all I need to know,” he said with a small nod.

Just then a beautiful quarter Arab filly was lead out. Her coat shone in the light as she regally made her way beneath you and you instantly saw what Tommy meant. “Oh, Tommy, she’s lovely!” you exclaimed.

At a small table at the far end of the ring an auctioneer in a bowler hat and little round spectacles announced, “Morals of Marcus, Sedgemere stud by Tetrach out of Lady Josephine. We’ll start the bidding at 800 guineas.”

Tommy could tell by the way your eyes shone watching the horse, this was the one. As you turned to smile at him, you noticed him give a nod to a woman across from you. She was obviously wealthy, dressed in a black fur trimmed coat and fashionable gray hat. For a moment you wondered if she was there with her husband, but one look at her loose curls and smoky eyes made you realize she was far too glamourous. No, she was someone’s mistress or looking to become one. You shifted your weight uncomfortably, closing your coat around yourself, suddenly feeling unattractive by comparison.

The woman raised her hand to bid, then the man next to you raised his, inciting a bidding war. “Bloody May Carleton, what’s that spoiled little bitch doing here besides driving up the prices?” he hissed to his companion.

“With Ian gone, she’s taken on quite a few new clients. Heard she's here today spending some new man's money,” his friend informed him. You swallowed harshly, suspicions confirmed.

As the gavel fell, everyone clapped for May. She smiled sweetly at Tommy as the man beside you threw down his paper in disgust. You couldn’t blame him as you felt the same. Turning to Tommy you begged for him to take you home.

“Don’t you want to stay to see the other horses, darling?” Tommy asked with furrowed brow.

“No, I’m feeling very tired all of a sudden,” you said and Tommy took your elbow to help you down the stairs. As he did, you met May by the stairs.

“Mr. Shelby, lovely to see you. Have you and Mrs. Shelby enjoyed the auction?” she chirped.

“We have,” he replied simply, turning to leave.

“Just a moment,” she called out. “Would you mind accompanying me to the offices?”

“I’m sorry that won’t be possible. We’re on our way home, Ms. Carleton,” Tommy said with a tip of his hat. Your cheeks burned as you realized your husband knew this woman and your heart ached at the thought that perhaps he knew her a bit better than you’d care to admit.

You rode in silence most of the way home, looking out the window as it rained. Finally Tommy spoke up asking, “Y/n, what’s wrong? You’ve barely spoken since the auction. Are you worried about the baby, love?”

Facing your husband with tears in your eyes you said, “No, I’m not worried about her, Tommy. I’m worried about us. How do you know May Carleton so well?”

Tommy gave you a puzzled look. Why would you be so concerned about May and how did you know her first name? “I don’t know her all that well honestly,” Tommy said, unsure why it mattered to you.

Frustration and humiliation spiking, you huffed, “Pull over, Tom. I want out of this car right now!”

“Are you insane? It’s freezing, you’ll catch a cold,” Tommy said, unwilling to pull over.

“I can’t stand to be in the car with you another minute if you’re going to lie to me!” you screamed at him.

Tommy looked at you in shock before allowing the car to drift into a ditch. You clutched for the door handle, but he slid over the bench seat, grabbing you by the shoulders before you could get away.

You shook him off saying, “Let me go! You don’t even want me anymore!”

“Hey, hey…look at me,” he said, grabbing your chin. “Where’s this coming from, eh?”

You broke down crying as you reached into your purse for a handkerchief. “May,” you said in a weak voice. “Tell me the truth. Is she your mistress?” you asked looking up at him with red, watery eyes.

“Fuck, is that what you think?” Tommy asked, running his hands through his hair. He’d never considered what it might look like when he asked May to help him bid on the horse. “May is a horse trainer, love. She breeds racehorses with her father.”

“She’s not a whore then?” you asked with a sniffle.

Tommy surpressed a laugh as he shook his head. “No, she’s a joint owner of Carleton Stud. Look, I can prove it,” he said, quickly fishing a business card from his pocket.

You studied it carefully, seeing what Tommy said was true. Suddenly you felt very foolish, having accused your husband of having an affair.

Tommy pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair away from your face. “You’ve been so selfless giving up the thing you love most to look after our daughter. I wanted to do something for you in return and I thought a horse would be the perfect gift. I thought of asking May to choose because she would pick only the best, but I wanted to be sure you approved. I’m sorry, the secrecy of it all made you think…” he trailed off unable to say the words.

You smiled against his shirt front, his vulnerability catching you off guard. You knew in that moment he would never think of cheating with May or anyone and you were ashamed of allowing your jealousy to reign over you. “It’s such a wonderful gift,” you praised him, thanking him for his loyalty more than the horse in the moment, though he didn’t know it at the time.

Then you realized the horse you’d seen might actually be yours. Sitting up with a jerk you asked. “Tommy, does that mean the filly is ours?”

He grinned at you widely, stroking a thumb over your cheek as he nodded. “Yours, my darling. All yours.”

You threw your arms around his neck thanking him once again and peppered his face with kisses. “I can’t wait to go riding again,” you said eagerly.

“Neither can I. It will be sooner than you think. She’ll be delivered tomorrow,” he informed you. You bit your lip, squealing with excitement.

“Ready to go home now?” Tommy asked, starting the car. You nodded, thoughts of your child drifting back into your mind. Tommy mistook your pensive silence and decided to add one more detail for good measure.

“We don’t have to invite May,” Tommy said diplomatically as he pulled back onto the main road. “I love you, you know.”

You chuckled as you snuggled into his side. “Thank you, Tommy. I love you too.”

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x y/n #k's 2.5K holiday BINGO challenge #cillian murphy

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years

Note

i’m getting the feeling that matilda is about 1d!reader, and i already know that it’s gonna break me

Building Harry's House: Matilda

A/N: Sorry this took forever to post but uni work is choking me without a sea view rn so tysm for being patient lovies 💚

SUMMARY: With the world knowing of their once secret relationship, Harry and YN navigate life together as an official couple and everything that comes with it. (9.6k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!reader, famous!yn

WARNING: mention of abuse (yn gets slapped), excessive drinking, mention of drugs

Previous Song Here!🍷// Building Harry's House masterlist // SINCE 2010 masterlist

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

Consistency is something that has always been a part of the spine in YN’s storybook. No matter how many years go by, Penny remains a burst of sunshine with a kaleidoscope of colors—Harry can see how YN came to have her own golden light.

Harry turns the wheel of the car with the palm of his hand and parks into the gravel driveway of Penny’s house. When YN finally saved up enough money to take her mum out of the rickety house she grew up in, she made sure to tell Penny that she could have any place she wanted—it didn’t even have to be in London anymore if that’s what she truly desired. Of course, her stepmum opted for a cottage in the countryside along with a forest for a backyard and greenery as far as the eyes can see. Colorful, homemade pottery, wind chimes, and furniture scatter the front porch, adding Penelope’s psychedelic touch to every little thing that YN’s seen since she was little.

Harry’s been aware of how quiet his love’s been during their travels. After the unexpected phone call from her father in Italy, he didn’t hesitate to pack their things when she said she wanted to see her stepmum. He immediately called his private pilot and made plans to head to Doncaster as soon as possible.

He watches as she exits the car without so much of a peep out of her mouth. He follows behind her as they make their way up the stone walkway that leads to the front of the house covered in greenery, much like YN’s home back in LA. He sees how YN pushes her fingers against the glass windchimes on the front porch before twisting the handle on the front door and walking in.

He sees her stepmum round the hallway corner in a tank top that showcases the few tattoos she has scattered along her arms and tracksuit pants, her face bare and glowing. Her bare feet pad across the tiled floor as she readjusts her long black hair in a ponytail. When she kisses her stepdaughter’s cheek in greeting, Harry notices the yoga mat farther into the small living room.

The place screams Penny: bohemian rugs, funky lamp shades and handmade paintings hung on every space the wall can fit.

After receiving the warmest welcome and being served tea out of her mismatched colorful mugs, the seal in YN’s silent mask finally cracks and it has her pacing across the kitchen floor. As he watches his love spill out everything on her mind that she’s kept in for the past two days and he can do nothing but lean against the doorframe of the kitchen and listen.

“Like, what could he possibly want from me? Money? Fame? A relationship with his daughter after eleven fookin’ years?” YN huffs out a laugh at the thought of her last suggestion with her hands on her hips. “Dunno how this bloke even got me personal number. That’s some hacker shite right there. And now I gotta change my number again and make sure that—”

“I gave him your number.” Penny blurts out from her seat at the table, making YN stop her pacing in the middle of the room. Her breathing stops altogether and the room goes silent with a faint sound of the glass windchimes from outside. Even Harry’s eyebrows furrow from his spot leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Whot? Wha—why the hell would you do that, Penny?” YN shakes her head as she tries to wrap her head around the fact that her step mum gave the one person she never wants to see again a leeway into her life.

“Look, I don’t support what he did or how he raised you—”

“He didn’t fookin’ raise me.”

“But he’s changed.”

“That’s like, the most bullshit reasoning anyone has ever given. And how would you even know that? Have you been talking to him?”

Penny fidgets with a strand of her long black hair and twists the ends as she mumbles out, “He’s reached out once or twice.”

“What the ‘ell? Whose side are you even on?”

With a hand on his hip, his other rubs against the stubble on his cheek as he watches the two women dispute back and forth. He doesn’t know if he should leave to give them some privacy or stay in case anything gets out of hand.

He hates to see his love this way, pacing with frustrated fingers twisting the rings on her fingers so much that they’re sure to leave red marks on her skin. The crease between her eyebrows begging to be soothed out by his lips and the harsh nails raking through her hair demands to be switched with his gentle ones—the kind that has her falling asleep almost instantly.

“I was in the hippie scene, YN! I was young and naive and I fell in love with this bloke. I didn’t know what I wanted or what was right or what was wrong. But the one thing I knew for fooking sure was wanting you to be in me life.” Penny sighs out as she composes herself. “Look, you know I would never do anything to hurt yeh. He first reached out months ago; s’not like he called yesterday and I gave him yeh number willy nilly.”

“So what are yeh saying? That I actually go pay this man a little visit?” Before Penny could even begin her suggestion, YN scoffs and immediately shakes her head. “No.”

“YN—”

“No, not happening. No way.”

When Harry sees her stepmum let out a deep sigh and rubs a smoothing hand over her forehead, he thinks now might be a time for him to step in.

“YN, maybe you should listen to yeh mum—”

“Stay out of this, Harry!” YN snaps at him without so much as a second thought. “This is none of yeh damn business.”

“YN!” Penny scolds her stepdaughter but it’s no use as YN storms off to the backyard. It’s a rare thing for either one of them to snap at each other but when one does, it can be quite scary. Their last big argument was well over a year ago during the making of Harry’s last album and they’ve made it a habit not to revert back to their shitty way of communication. He almost lost her then and he’s sure as hell not going to let her go now.

Penelope turns to Harry with a sorrowful expression, “Yeh did nothing wrong, Harry. She’s just stu—”

“Stubborn. Yeah, I know.” With a shrug of his shoulder and a sad smile, he says, “S’unfortunately, one of the things I love about her.”

...

After walking off some of the steam around the massive yard, YN stumbles upon the garage she helped her stepmum convert into an art studio. Canvases the size of her line up against the wall (a painting in the works up on an easel), buckets of paints and brushes scattered every which way, and a pottery wheel in the center of the room.

With her arms wrapped around herself, she walks along the shelving filled with miscellaneous items: Penny’s homemade ceramic creations, funky decor pieces, plants, books and the picture they used for the Story of My Life music video framed and displayed front and center.

She runs her finger across the array of books on the shelves, stopping and pulling out a particular book.

“Find anything yeh like?” YN looks up and gives her stepmum a small smile.

“Yeh still have this?” YN waves her old copy of Matilda. The pages were so well loved that one wrong blow of the wind could have the cover fall off of its spine.

“Of course, yeh wouldn’t let that thing go.” Penny takes a cautious step towards her stepdaughter and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But there are some things that you just have let go, right?”

Penny’s ready for the young woman to blow up again, sigh out in frustration, and even walk out of the room. But it’s safe to say that she wasn’t expecting for her to look at her with glossy eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

“I'm scared, mum.” YN whispers out and Penny wastes no time pulling her into her arms.

“It’s okay to be scared, baby.” She reassures her stepdaughter. “But yeh don’t have to be. You have to choose whether or not you want him to have that power over yeh. You are so strong, so courageous. M’sorry that I didn’t warn you beforehand.”

“S’okay,” YN pulls back as she wipes at her cheeks. “If yeh would have warned me I would just keep avoiding him. I think it's a sign, right?"

“Follow yeh heart, baby. You know what to do." Penny brushes the strands of hair away from her daughter's face in a comforting way. "Have yeh told him about what happened?” She doesn't need to say his name for YN to know who she's referring to.

“Does he need to know?” Even YN cringes her face up at her words, already knowing the answer to her question. She blindly points to the general direction of the backyard. "M'gonna go talk to him."

Harry can’t help but think of how much Penny’s house reminds him of his mum’s place he bought for her all those years ago. Like YN’s stepmum, she didn’t want anything too grand in the busy life of London but a cozy cottage with a massive yard. He remembers hearing a lot about how the two mums bonded over gardening and wonders if the sunflowers growing off in the corner of the yard was his mum’s doing.

He gets pulled away from his thoughts on one of the patio couches when he hears the sliding back door open and he’s met with his love.

“Hi,” she breathes out.

“Hey.”

“M’sorry I snapped at you. Yeh did nothing wrong.” YN sighs as she keeps her gaze to her fidgety hands, her thumb twisting the ring on her index finger. “Yeh been nothing but supportive and you didn’t deserve that. M’sorry. Can you forgive me?”

He wordlessly pats the seat next to him and she’s quick to climb up close to him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently holds the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. He’d forgive her for anything in a heartbeat; that’s how deep his love is for her.

“S’alright,” Harry mumbles against her skin and feels her shoulders relax against him. “I forgive you.”

“Good. That would have been awkward if yeh didn’t,” YN huffs out a laugh through her nose in an attempt to ease the mood and he can’t hold back the small smile of his face.

They stay like this for a bit, wrapped up in one another as they look out into the giant, forest-like backyard before them. As much as he’d like to pretend that everything’s alright and move on, he knows that it’s not healthy to. That’s all they’ve ever done during these past couple of years since the band started: suppressing thoughts and feelings in hopes they would disappear and everything would resolve itself on its own. In a perfect world, maybe, but they’ve wasted so much time doing that that they both see what they’ve been missing out on.

As much as he doesn’t want to pop the bubble they’ve created, he knows this needs to be done—or at least try to.

“YN?” When she hums in response, he puts a reassuring hand over hers and is rewarded with the eyes that make him weak in the knees. “Do you feel comfortable telling me about your dad?”

“He’s not me dad,” YN shakes her head instantly. “He didn’t—doesn’t deserve that name. He isn’t me dad. He’s my father and the only reason he even gets that much is because we share the same DNA.”

YN lets out a deep sigh and avoids her boyfriend’s gaze to look out to the trees scattered around the backyard. She’s never talked to Harry or any of the boys about her father, nor has she ever wanted to. When topics of her family came up during interviews, music video projects, or even group dinners, Penny was only mentioned and brought along. Out of respect, nobody tried to pry her open for any other information about if she had a dad, any other siblings or relatives she was close with. It was only Penny and the Tomlinsons—no one else.

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” As Harry’s head runs around with unfulfilled questions a thousand miles a minute, ready to close the conversation and reassure her that she can when she’s ready, she manages to mumble out, “But I do feel comfortable with you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’m never going to want to talk about me father but since I plan to spend the rest of me life with you, I need to tell you about this part of my life.”

When Harry turns his body towards her to give her his full attention, her nerves begin to spike up again. But with his hand in hers, it grounds her and makes her feel an overwhelming sense of safety. So with that, she takes in a deep breath before lowering down the wall of her past that she’s kept hidden from the world for years.

YN, Louis, and some of her other friends ride their bikes down the streets of Doncaster after getting out of school. It was a particularly cold day this time of year and they were all wrapped up in thick coats and scarves. Now, YN isn’t big on birthdays. She never celebrated them in her own household but the Tomlinson’s never failed to give her a cake, collectively sing her the infamous song, and give her a present or two. But this year is different. This year, YN turns 16 and Penny nearly jumped up and down in excitement when her stepdaughter asked if she could bring some friends over for a little party.

Nobody has ever really been to her house, even Louis—her best friend since she was five years old—doesn’t spend too much time over there either. He was already so used to her suggesting to go over to his house instead that he began to question if she was feeling alright when she told him her plans.

The only reason why she’s even inviting everyone over is because her father said he’d be out late at work and won’t be back until the late hours of the night. Not that she wasn’t used to him not being home, it’s just when he was, he was accompanied by a beer bottle and bitter comments.

The group drops their bikes on the small yard in front of her house before trekking up the short, creaky steps of the porch as they chat and laugh lively amongst themselves. There’s a sense of relief not seeing anyone in the small living room once she pushed and twisted her key in the lock. Her eyebrows furrow for a second when her step mum isn’t there. She did her car in the driveway but brushes it off before turning to the group.

“Alright lads, yeh guys can just leave yeh stuff in here and I can go get us something to eat from the kitchen.” YN smiles at her small group of friends as they all happily agree. Too embarrassed to admit it to herself but she’s actually excited about her little get-together. She’s never hosted a party before and Jay and Penelope pre-made some snacks for her to pass around.

“Let me help yeh with tha—” Louis says as he begins to shrug off his puffer coat when Penny hurriedly comes into the living room.

“YN,” The young girl furrows her eyebrows for the millionth time at the way her stepmum’s voice shakes and at the fake smile plastered on her face. “‘ello everyone, welcome. Hun, um can I talk with yeh for a second? Ah—Lou, stay there babe. The kitchen is actually a mess from earlier.”

Louis stops in his tracks as he feels the confusion continues to rise up. Instead of questioning it, he takes it upon himself to entertain the group for the time being as his best friend and her stepmum step off to the side.

“Penny, what’s wrong? Yeh scaring meh.”

“Baby, um,” Penny anxiously pushes her long black hair behind her ears before looking over to her small group of friends in the living room. “There was a little hiccup at your father’s work today...”

No. Please, no.

“Well, wha’s goin’ on in here?” A voice sounds from somewhere behind her and the inevitable chill runs down her spine.

When YN turns around, her father stands before her. She’s quick to assess the situation: dirty white shirt, beer bottle in hand, eyes pink and puffy, and the stench of his breath.

“Having a little party without meh or whot?” Samuel taunts with a sickening smile before taking a swing from the dark bottle. Her stomach drops at the sight of her friends’ eyes widening at the man before them.

“Sammy, baby.” YN sees her step mum quickly come to his side and place a hand on her husband’s chest with a gentle voice. “Come on, we were just heading out, right?”

Please, this can’t be happening. Not now.

“Come on, let YN have her party and we can go out for dinner like we planned.”

“No,” He says sternly, shrugging his arm away from her gentle hand. “S’me house. I paid for it. Why do I ‘ave to leave?” He slurs.

“S’alright, we were just leaving.” YN tries her hardest to not make this a bigger scene than it’s already becoming. “I actually forgot I left the snacks over at yeh house, Lou. Why don’t yeh lads head over there and I’ll be over in a sec.”

“I don’t think—”

“Louis, I’ll meet up with you guys over there.” YN smiles reassuringly but her eyes tell a different story. He can tell that she’s just begging him to take the group away next door and let her deal with her father in the privacy of the worn down walls of the house.

She feels ashamed and embarrassed by the way her friends awkwardly gather their things and shuffle out of the house.

“Hanging around with that Louis bloke again?” Samuel provokes as soon as she closes the door behind the group. YN wouldn’t usually give in to one of his verbal pokes and digs, but whenever he brings up her best friend, it makes the fire in her chest burn hotter.

“Got fired again?” She retaliates in a bored tone.

“Yeh being smart with meh? Yeh just think you’re so smart, huh?”

“Well I did skip a grade so what do you think?” YN tries to brush past her tispy father over to the kitchen to grab the pre-made snacks but it’s easier said than done. He immediately blocks her from walking any further.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Her father yells in her face and the smell of alcohol washes over her stronger than before. It makes her scrunch her up nose up at the scent and she keeps her gaze on his dirty shirt than his eyes. “Yeh think yeh can do whatever yeh want and invite people over? Just like that? Yeh can’t just do anythin’ yeh want, Marilyn!”

This wasn’t the first time Samuel has called YN by her mother’s name, drunk or not. Marilyn left her father when YN was merely four years old, too fed up by her husband to deal with him for another day and too selfish to bring her daughter to her new life. YN remembers the yelling from downstairs and loud shut of the front door.

She remembers the bright blue and red lights from the police car flashing from her backyard later on in the night, and the two officers saying something about a car accident. She also remembers how it was the first time she ever saw her father cry.

She doesn’t remember a lot about her mother. When she was older, she found a few pictures of her that her father kept away and needless to say, she was shocked. She almost thought they were pictures of her until she saw a younger version of her father next to her.

“Yeah, and you know what? I wish I was her.” YN bites back through her clenched teeth, finally having the strength to look up and meet his eyes. “I wish I was her so that I can fookin’ leave you like she did!”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she feels a hot sting on her cheek. The strong impact startles her, her body reacting on its own from the unexpected action that her hands have to catch herself before her face can hit the ground.

“Samuel!”

She hears her step-mum yell, but it sounds muffled. Everything around her fades into a high ringing noise. It wasn’t uncommon for YN and her father to have some heated, verbal arguments. The both of them get red in the face and nasty words are exchanged that should never be said between a daughter and a father. As much they both had the urge to do so, never, never has he ever laid a hand on her until now.

YN puts a hand on her burning cheek and whips her head around to look up at her father. His chest is heaving in anger, eyebrows deeply furrowed and she can practically see the steam radiating off of him.

As she picks herself off the floor and Penny is quick to her side but YN pushes the woman away from her while keeping her stern gaze on her father.

Without another word, she marches towards the door. She thinks she hears Penny calling out after her, maybe even her father, but she doesn’t care. She swings the door open and makes headway towards her discarded bike.

She pushes her feet quickly against the pedals, her legs burn at how fast she’s going but continues on. She doesn’t even spare a glance at Louis’ house when she rides past it—her surroundings just all become a big moving blur. The tears on her cheeks feel ice cold as the wind whips at her face, but it simultaneously soothes the fresh marks on her skin.

“I used to think that if I pedaled hard enough, I would fly away. Like some blue bird in fookin’ Snow White or something.” YN wraps her arms around her legs as she brings them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she continues to keep her gaze on Harry’s hand in hers. She hasn’t been able to look him in the eyes since she started to share her truth.

“Where did you go?” Harry asks softly.

“Well I wanted to run away, but I literally had nothing on me. So after circling around Donny for a bit, I sneaked into Louis’s room that night. Penny found me easily,” YN lets out a watery chuckle and wipes under her nose with her sleeve. “Was the first place she looked but I um, I didn’t come back home for about a month. Pen brought me clothes from home and stuff; she knew I didn’t want to go back there.”

“And your father?”

YN looks out to the orange sun set that peaks through the trees of the spacious yard and shrugs. “That was the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. Pen still stayed with him, I stayed at Jay’s and when the summer came around I went back when he wasn’t there. Two months later I had me XFactor audition and I never came back home.”

“M’so sorry, YN.” Harry’s index finger nudges under his nose to help keep his tears at bay.

YN shakes her head and kisses her teeth. “Don’t be. Y’know I hate it when people give me pity and all that. Makes me feel like I can’t hold me own. If anything, I just felt bad for me mum. Like I just left her there to go on tour with the band for two years before I could come up with the money to buy her a decent place of her own.”

“Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty for any of that, you know that right? You should never apologize for simply growing up and trying to move on, YN. Hey, look at me,” Harry gently nudges his hand under her chin to turn her gaze to him. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you can handle yourself. I mean, look how much you had to deal with and are still here; your golden light shining through the darkest of times. But you don’t have to do this on your own anymore.”

When he pulls her further into his arms, he hears her sniffle back her tears and snuggles further into his chest. His heart breaks at the sound and he feels so helpless, like he could have done something to ease her pain. She was hurting right under his nose and he didn’t do anything. But he’s reminded that this isn’t about him, it’s about her. He can’t imagine going through what she did for so many years. He doesn’t even want to humor the idea of something like that happening to his own mum.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by her response muffled into his chest.

“Can you um...do you mind coming with me to see him next week?”

...

The day to go meet up with her father for afternoon tea came around sooner than YN expected. She barely slept the night before, tossing and turning every which way to release the pain in her temples. If it bothered Harry so much, he did a good job at hiding it because with every wiggle and frustrated sigh, he adjusted their position along with her. He peppered loving kisses to anywhere her skin was near his mouth at the time and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, encouraging her to relax.

It wasn’t until Harry tugged her on top of him, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and massaged his blunt fingers into her scalp and back that she was finally able to succumb to sleep when the sun began to peek through the sheer curtains.

After a few phone calls from Jeff and work related matters, Harry walks back into the master bedroom of his home in London with his eyes on the phone in his hand.

“Darling, wanna start heading o—?” He stops when he sees YN still in her pajamas and her hair messily clipped to the back of her head. She sits criss-cross on the floor with plastic packaging and cardboard all around her. “Baby? What are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Look, I finally framed my ABBA poster. It’s been rolled up and stuck in that closet since forever and I found these fancy frames I ordered a while ago but never put them to use. I think I’m actually going to order more and just redo all my posters and stuff.” YN rambles on with her hands on her hips as she looks around at the items surrounding her.

“Baby—”

“Oh! And I have to show you this viral TikTok I saw earlier.” YN scrambles to her feet, moving around Harry and swipes her phone from the dresser behind him. “It’s a life hack on how we can maximize space under the bathroom cabinets because as much as I hate to admit it, we both have loads of skin care stuff and this way we can stay organized! And then—”

“YN,” Harry grabs a hold of her shoulders. When he sees her wide eyes look up at him, he gently takes her jaw in his hands. “S’okay to feel nervous. We don't have to go to your home if you don’t want to, lovie. You did nothing wrong and if you don’t want to go, there’s no harm in that.”

He sees the way her wide, tired eyes soften as he can practically see her working the gears in her head.

“No. No, you’re right.” YN lets out a deep sigh before kissing her teeth. “I hate it when you’re right. Bruises me ego.”

Harry huffs out a chuckle and presses a loving kiss to her forehead before heading towards the connected bathroom.

“Come on, I’ll even get the shower going for y—” Once Harry opens the glass door of the shower stall, he eyebrows knit together at the balled up pieces of clothing on the floor banded together by rubber bands. YN gives him a sheepish smile.

“I learned how to tie-dye.”

...

It’s hard not to notice the way YN’s knee keeps bouncing and her hands fidget with the rings on her fingers. He doesn’t point out the way she keeps moving the dials for the AC or how she tweaks the volume of the music every other minute.

He licks his lips before giving her thigh under his hand a loving squeeze and saying, “Baby, do you mind grabbing me that chapstick I put in yeh bag?”

YN rummages her purse in search of the tiny tube. Harry glances at his love and finds that while one hand is shoved sifting through her bag, the other one holds an abundance of items: her keys, her wallet, a snack-size bag of Haribos she bought at the airport and their two passports.

“I can’t bloody find this stupid, little—”

“Hey, hey. S’alright, forget about it yeah?” Harry takes the items in her hands and tosses them in the spacious footwell of the car. He intertwines his fingers with hers and brings their hands to his mouth. “Thought it would take your mind off of things but I guess it only made you more upset.” Harry chuckles, trying to lighten her anxiety by pressing kisses to each of her knuckles.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Fook.” YN brings the heel of her other hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. Harry can feel the frustration radiating off of her. It’s heavy and bleak, and not like his YN at all. He’s suddenly thinking of making a “wrong” turn to the airport to go back to Sunny California where her golden smile shined the most. Or even pulling over at the side of the road to say how there’s a suspicious noise coming from the engine and how they need to wait it out before they continue. “I know m’being a bother. I just can’t stay still. I feel so silly—”

“You are not silly for feeling the way you feel. This is a huge step for you and I just want to thank you for allowing me to be with you during this time. I never want yeh to go through this alone, I know you wouldn’t let me go through this thing alone if it was the other way around. And if this turns out bad, I got a few—” Harry pinches his index finger and thumb together and brings it to his lips. “—back home we can do after.”

“Yeh could have told me that before we left?”

He laughs at her disappointed tone before making a turn onto the designated property. “I didn’t think we’d make a good impression on your father if we showed up stoned.”

“Holy shit,” YN ducks over to Harry’s driver’s side window at the mansion driveway they pull into. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

“You’re the one who put it into the GPS.”

Like second nature, Harry opens her car door and intertwines his hands with hers before making their way up the driveway.

“Now I feel fookin’ underdressed.” YN adjusts the cardigan that keeps falling off of her shoulder.

“You look fucking gorgeous.” Harry leans down to plant a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, no.” YN cracks a smile and pinches at his lips with her knuckles. “I’ve been a bad influence on you, haven’t I?”

“Wha’ do yeh fookin’ mean?” She giggles as Harry micks her Yorkshire accent. Him and the boys would like to make fun of her accent throughout the years but Harry’s always done it to defuse her anger, to bring a smile on her face and ease her bundle of nerves. “This is how I bloody talk and shit, innt?”

“Is it now?”

“Aces, man.” Harry smiles brightly at the way she covers her laugh with the back of her hand as he reaches over to push the doorbell. “Just buzzin’ in excitement, aren’t yeh? Oh bloody ‘ell, bloody ‘ell.”

YN and Harry’s laughter gets cut off by the front door opening. There stands an older woman, probably in her late fifties. Her blonde hair looks like it was freshly done at the salon and looks like a fluffy yellow cloud on her head. The woman’s sparkly cocktail dress and matching red lip are way too fancy for an afternoon tea, and if it wasn’t already for the massive size of their house, YN might have been surprised at her attire.

“Hello there. We were just expecting you both.” The woman’s American accent rings through YN’s ears. As the woman extends her manicured hand to greet the couple, YN’s eyes immediately go to the sparkly rock on her finger. “My name is Della and you beautiful young lady must be—”

“YN.” A voice continues from behind the pristine woman, the same voice that runs a chill down her spine as it did when she was a kid.

A man appears at the doorway, his eyes widening like he almost expected her to not come at the last minute.

She doesn’t know who this man in front of her is, but it certainly isn’t the man she remembers. There’s no beer bottle in his hand but a gold wedding band on his ring finger. Instead of his stained shirt, a freshly pressed white button-up and a sweater vest covers his chest. Her nose doesn’t burn from the stench of alcohol but of minty freshness.

But even though his eyes aren’t surrounded by pinky, puffiness, she can tell that those are her father’s eyes.

“Hello, Samuel,” YN utters out the words with as much professionalism as she can, almost as if she were interviewing him for a prestigious job.

“I’m—I’m so glad you were able to make it.” The older man huffs out a laugh of disbelief as he runs a nervous hand over his thinning hair; his clean, combed and styled hair.

When Harry sees his love swallow thickly from uncomfortableness, he extends an outreached hand, “Hello, m’Harry. It’s nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Barlowe.”

YN just stands with her hand still clasped in his as the older couple shakes her boyfriend’s hand.

“Please, please come inside.” Della steps aside and opens the door wider.

YN can feel her skin tingle by the feel of her father’s eyes on her and she hates the way she’s having trouble meeting his eyes.

It’s an uncomfortable experience walking through the spacious house, everything clean and neat that it almost looks like no one has ever lived in it before. The couches and decorative carpets are white and aesthetically minimal, grand chandeliers hanging in every room they pass and a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used. She almost feels the need to take off her shoes in fear of leaving a mark on the perfectly clean titles.

As YN looks around the museum-like house, she quickly looks down at the feeling of Harry giving their intertwined hands a reassuring squeeze. Even if he can’t do anything about her situation, she appreciates the fact that he’s letting her know that he’s here with her for any support she needs.

Once the group sits down on the patio outside, YN almost jumps in her seat when two women with white aprons come out with trays ready for their tea.

Della and Samuel move in sync with one another as they drink their tea. They might as well be robots, lifting their white tea cups with such delicateness and gently dabbing their cloth napkin around their lips precisely three times. It’s borderline scary, like a jumpscare out of a horror movie was bound to pop out any minute.

But she has to admit, Della isn’t a stuck up monster as she initially thought upon meeting her at the front door. She’s actually a very sweet woman who smiles at her husband with so much love in her eyes.

YN’s learned that her father was working as a janitor at a law firm company shortly after she and Penny left his life. There, he was inspired to go to law school and with some help from some people in the company, he was able to attend. He soon worked his way up to become a partner at the firm and the small company became bigger than anyone ever expected. He met Della in 2015 when she was working as the firm’s secretary and married a couple months into dating.

“He would always stop by my desk and take from the lollipop bowl I had there. He would always ask me to go out with him and I kept telling him no—I honestly think it was because he liked my accent and I was playing hard to get.” Della whispers not so quietly and it makes a chuckle bubble out from YN’s throat. It puts a smile on Harry’s face to see his love more relaxed, not totally letting her guard down but enough for her shoulders to come down from their pinched position.

“What made you change your mind?” YN questions with a sincere smile and takes a sip of her honey-induced tea.

“This guy—” Della playfully slaps her husband's chest. “Got in front of the whole office, guitar in hand and sang to me. Oh the name of the song is slipping from my mind...how did it go again?” Della snaps her fingers as she racks her brain. “Um... don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control...”

“I want a perfect body,” Samuel says along.

“I want a perfect soul,” YN finishes and looks down at her lap. “That's um, that’s Creep by Radiohead.”

“If m’not mistaken, that was one of the first songs I taught you how to play on the guitar.” Her father smiles and sits up straighter in his seat.

“Yeah, you let me use your old Lancaster.” Harry sees the way her smile falters at the mention of the memory. YN was in middle school when her father showed an uncommon amount of kindness one day. It was the day she rummaged through the garage and found the pictures of her mum along with his old eclectic guitar. Instead of scolding her to not look through his old things, he sat down with her and showed her the simple cords to the song (thanks to the years of practice from Penny, she was able to pick up the melody pretty quickly). They smiled, laughed, and bonded. But like many things in her life, consistency crept its way back in.

Samuel saw sight of a picture of his deceased wife peeking out from YN’s hoodie pocket and a switch flicked inside him. He suddenly snatched the beautiful guitar and smashed it against the ground. After three swings, the base completely disconnected from the neck. He walked out without so much as another word and left YN panting, frozen in a state of fear and shock.

“I loved that guitar,” YN says softly and she’s back at avoiding his gaze.

“I did, too. S’a shame I don’t have it anymore. Sold it to an old buddy of mine back in the day.” Samuel sighs out in disappointment and YN’s eyebrows quickly knit together. When she looks up at him in confusion, he sees him shake his head in reminiscence.

“Hey, maybe you should treat yourself and buy a new one, huh?” Della puts a hand on her husband’s arm with an encouraging smile. “There’s got to be a store somewhere that sells some.”

“Reckon’ you’re right, D.” Samuel smiles. While he leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek, Harry too leans over to his love. “That’s a great idea.”

“Baby, y’alright? Wha’s wrong?” Harry whispers.

“S’just that—”

“Okay, so I would hate to have you both feel uncomfortable about this and Sam warned me not to bring it up,” Della chuckles. “But before you two leave, would you guys mind signing a CD for my kids? They just love both of your music and they would absolutely die if they knew you guys were here without a little something.”

“You have children?” YN raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Two girls,” Della smiles brightly. “Sydney just got back from college—oh sorry, uni—last month and our little Abigail just turned the big 16 last week. We had a little surprise party for her and we invited all of her friends over. Oh, it was so much fun. And the cake was just so delicious—”

“Della, honey.” Samuel puts a gentle hand on his wife’s. “I think we’ve heard enough about the party—”

“I would actually love to hear more about it.” YN speaks up, straightening up her back and turning her full attention towards the older woman.

“YN,” Harry whispers gently into his girlfriend and puts a comforting hand on the back of her chair.

Della nervously chuckles. "Oh, I don't know-"

“Please. Please, go on." YN insists. "Did you bake the cake yourselves? Did you spend all night the day before preparing little snacks for all of her friends, too? Did you guys buy her a sentimental gift? Samuel?”

YN gives her father an expected look, patiently waiting for his answer as he squirms in his seat. He nervously coughs into his hands before saying, “Um, we uh...well she just got her license not too long ago so we um...we put some money together to buy her a car.”

Della shifts her gaze back and forth between her husband and his daughter as the tension begins to build up. She sees the way YN purses her lips together and nods.

“She had been asking for one for so long and since it was a special occasion, Samuel wanted to do something nice.” Della reasons with a wavering smile. “I’m sure that Sam here did something just as special for you when you turned her age. What did he give you?”

Harry—all of them really—can see the way Della tries her best to lighten the mood but right now he knows that she should just stop talking altogether.

“A slap across the face.” YN nods nonchalantly, not at all bothered by the horrific look on the older woman's face. “Yeh know, the kind where yeh least expect it and the force of it is just so strong that it actually knocks yeh off your feet. Makes you hear a little ringing sound, too. Isn't that right, Samuel?”

Della looks over to her husband as he furrows his eyebrows and as much as Harry hates to admit it, the resemblance she has with her father’s current expression is undeniable.

“I’m sorry,” Samuel shakes his head as he clears his throat. “I actually have no idea what you are referring to.”

The wind immediately gets knocked out from YN’s chest and if it wasn’t for Harry’s hand on her back, she’d think she was dreaming.

“M’sorry whot?” She scoffs. “So you’re telling me that you don’t remember the reason I left home?”

“Yeh went on to become a world famous singer. I always knew you would someday.”

Harry can feel the anger radiating off her body as her father lies right through his teeth. Till this day, she can still hear his drunken words slurred to her:

You’re a waste of space.

Yeh think you’re gonna make it as a singer? You’re pathetic.

You’re not worth it.

Just as Harry mentally (and almost physically) prepares himself from standing in between his girlfriend and her father when she goes off on him, he’s taken back when she lets out a laugh. She’s laughing. Her eyes squeezed shut with one hand over her stomach and the other over her mouth.

“Why is that funny?” Della looks around at the people surrounding the table.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” YN says in between giggles. “But that’s the biggest load of shit v’ever heard. So you’re saying that yeh don’t remember all of those years of yelling at me? Yelling at Penny? Drinking excessively? Breaking things violently in front of me? Hitting me?”

“Enough!” The loud bang to the table and the movement of the fine china startles everyone as Samuel’s voice booms throughout the patio space. “I invite you into me house to try to rekindle our past, to heal wounds and move on yet you bring up with shite?”

“Rekindle our past? Dunno how you expected to do that when you can’t even be honest about what yeh did to me! And heal wounds? Hate to break it to yeh Samuel, but those wounds aren't wounds anymore. They’re scars now. Already patched up and healed with no help from you.” YN lets out a small chuckle to herself before shaking her head. “I don’t know why I even came here. Della, you seem like a smart woman so I would advise yeh to have a little chat with your husband because he clearly isn’t the man that you know. Thank you for the tea.” And with that, YN’s chair screeches against the pavement before standing up.

“So that’s it?” Samuel spits. “And you? Harry, you’ve barely spoken a word since yeh got here.”

“How believe me, I have plenty to say,” Harry bites back as he stands up and puts a protective hand on YN’s back. “But out of respect for the love of my life, all m’gonna say is that you’re a piece of shit, man.”

“Get the hell out of me house!” Samuel yells as he abruptly stands from his seat, the metal chair falling loudly to the ground behind him and he points towards the door.

“Glady.” YN scoffs and once Harry intertwines his hand with hers, they make their way out of the house.

It’s a known fact that throughout the years of the two being in the public eye, they’ve been media trained to be the sweetest people they can be towards anyone they meet. Harry has been portrayed for years as a ‘bad boy’ who's never done anything bad and YN the ‘good girl’ with permanent innocence. It’s been rumored around the fandom since the band started that as sweet and soft spoken as they come off for their jobs, when they get mad—they get furious. So while many fans think it’s one of the many delusion based fandom-facts, no one has truly seen how scary the two can become when they get angry.

“Wait!” The couple turns around to find Della quickly making her way over to their car but the two ignore her calling as Harry proceeds to open her door. “YN, please!”

With an annoyed look to her love and a sigh, YN relecutaly turns around, “Whot?”

“I’m so, so sorry about what happened back there. I had no idea he had done those awful things to you. If-if I would have known...”

It doesn’t take long for it to all click in YN’s head. Her expression softens as she recognizes the look in the woman’s eyes from a mile away.

“You don’t know about me past.” She tilts her head to find Della’s eyes. “But you have experienced it, haven’t you?”

Harry’s surprised by the bold assumption, but when he flicks his gaze over to the prestigious woman, his heart strings pull greater than they have ever before.

“I don’t know what happened.” The older woman brings a shaky hand to her mouth as her eyes begin to water. “It first started shortly after we got married all those years ago. He was nothing like that when we met.”

“What I said back there is true. You are a smart woman. You know what to do. Think about your girls. They deserve the world, not this. Don’t let them go through what we did.” She surprises herself by wrapping her arms around the older woman, Della is quick to reciprocate. The hug doesn’t last longer than a couple of seconds,

but it was somehow something they both needed. So as she watches the couple drive away, Della is left with a truth she pushed back facing years in the making.

...

No matter how many years they’ve been working together, writing songs together and making music side by side, Harry still manages to get nervous showing her his work. But this isn’t any kind of love song he’s written about her in the past. This was on a deeper level of intimacy between them. This isn’t just about himself or his feelings of longing and loving towards her, but of her past.

He taps his leather journal in his open palm, gathers his tin container and with a deep breath in, he makes his way over to her where she’s seated in his backyard. In the middle of his closed-off yard, she’s sitting on a blanket he put out earlier, a guitar in her hands as she mindlessly plucks pretty melodies from the wired strings.

He leans down to press a kiss on her exposed shoulder before lifting the spaghetti strap of her dress back up and plopping down next to her. She easily flicks open the lid from the container and she smiles at the sight of a lighter and the familiar rolled up substances.

“Romantic dinner for two, Mr. Styles?” She pauses her movements when he puts a hand on top of hers and she looks up at him expectantly.

“I uh, before we get into it, I actually wanted to share something with you first.” YN notices the familiar journal in his lap and gives him a cheeky smile.

“Another love song about meh? M’starting to think you fancy me.” When she notices his knowing look, she gives him a closed lipped smile. “Sorry, go ahead.”

When she sets down her guitar, he reaches out and takes into his lap instead. She’s pleasantly surprised by his actions. He usually writes on piano as his choice of instrument and feels the butterflies start to flap their wings in anticipation of what’s to come.

He leans over himself to make sure his fingers are placed correctly over the strings and right as he’s about to begin, he stops, “Don’t make fun of me, alright? M’still practicing.”

She laughs and grabs a hold of his chin as she plants a sweet kiss to his lips, “Promise I’ll keep my opinions to myself.” Her giggle is muffled when he pulls her back in for another kiss but sits back and patiently waits until he’s ready.

With a final deep breath in, his fingers begin to pluck beautifully. He still needs a little finer tuning on his part but he’s doing a wonderful job so far.

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels.

YN tilts her head at the lyrics but lets him continue on.

Nothing 'bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now.

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal.

It’s been a few days after the visit to go see her father and after crying and venting to her mum about what happened, the couple hasn’t brought the topic up since.

You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up, mmhm

There’s still so much she’s holding onto, so much still sitting on her chest that she's still unable to let go of. But Harry knows her more than anyone and understands her love language right down to the T: music.

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

YN lets out a watery chuckle at the book reference, the one she loved so dearly as a child.

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе.

You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days.

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind.

“This song was inspired by an experience YN and I had with a mutual friend—a person who we disguised as Matilda by Roald Dahl.” Harry explains from his interview chair for the Harry’s House documentary. The couple agreed without a doubt that they wouldn’t fully explain that the song was about YN. They usually never do but the song speaks for itself. “I played it to a couple of friends and all of them cried. So I was like, ‘Okay, I think this is something to pay attention to.’”

You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own.

It shocks YN to realize that while she went through this part of her life by herself, she wasn’t alone. Ten years ago, YN gained brothers, a family consisting of the boys, her managers, tour and production crew, and the fans. She had a family by her side this entire time and she didn’t even register in her mind.

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

As soon as he plays the last note, YN quickly shuffles on her knees over to him and wraps him up in her arms. She digs her face into the crook of his neck as he grips onto her shoulder blades, pulling her incredibly closer to him as he can.

“People have so much guilt with things that they don't necessarily need to have guilt with sometimes. I think it's your right to protect the space around you and be protective of yourself and look after yourself.”

“I’m sorry you went home to that.”

YN shakes her head reassuringly and takes his face in her hands. She’s been crying so much lately that she’s surprised that she hasn’t run out by now. She has so much love for the man in front of her. She was serious about before: she’s never felt this way about anyone ever before. YN presses her lips lovingly to his. “You are my home, Harry.”

Her favorite dimpled smile appears on his face and she presses her forehead to his.

“You are my home, YN.” He says before pulling her back into him for more kisses.

“I think this song is going to touch a lot of people. It speaks to so many who’ve gone through toxic family members in their lives, people who weren’t loved in the way that they should have been loved,” YN gives the interview camera a sad smile. “S’a powerful one, this one.”

Back in the studio, YN can be seen in the recording room sitting in front of a Casio piano. With her chunky studio headphones on she plays along to Harry’s voice singing in her ears.

Oh, there's a long way to go,

I don't believe that time will change your mind.

She can’t help but tuck in her lips in an attempt to hold back the tears that threaten to escape.

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go.

YN takes in a shaky breath and closes her eyes as her fingers continues to press on the keys.

You can let it go.

In a cathartic way, she finally releases the bands that she kept from her past. She lets go of her abusive father and the power he held over her for all of those years. She lets go of her biological mother’s name and accepts that she was never her, she’s her own person. She lets go of the guilt of leaving home, of leaving Penny—of leaving her mum there with her father for two more years and lets gratefulness seep in for the fact that her mum isn’t in that position anymore.

But most importantly, she lets go of the nasty feeling her father soaked her in.

She’s not pathetic, she’s brave. She’s not worthless, but worthy. She’s not a waste of space, she lights up the room with her golden light.

Taglist:

“It’s a weird one, because with something like this, it’s like, ‘I want to give you something, I want to support you in some way, but it’s not necessarily my place to make it about me because it’s not my experience.’” Sometimes it’s just about listening.” Harry sneaks a discreet peek at his teary-eyed girlfriend from her seat somewhere behind the camera. “I hope that’s what I did here. If nothing else, it just says, ‘I was listening to you.’”

Next song here! 🇬🇧

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall

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louisupdates · 9 months

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Louis Tomlinson Introduces 28: a Brand Embodying His British Upbringing, Musical Flair, and Football Heritage

Hypebeast sits down with the Doncaster-raised superstar to discover how he channeled his passions into a community-focused streetwear brand.

Many know Louis Tomlinson as a Doncaster lad-turned-pop-icon and part of era-defining boyband, One Direction. But despite his superstar status, the 31-year-old has never lost touch with his relaxed Northern soul. It’s been central to everything he puts his mind to, from music to football… and now, fashion.

After fighting his way through X Factor, growing his talent in One Direction, and going solo after their break-up in 2015, Tomlinson split fresh ground while keeping authenticity at the forefront. Embracing the rockstar lifestyle, he has traveled worldwide on his own terms, revolutionizing his sound through chart-topping hits, including Bigger Than Me, Change, and Silver Tongues.

Now fiercely independent, Tomlinson is continuing to make strides that set him apart from the crowd, releasing his debut solo album Walls in early 2020. Leaving the pop-forward One Direction sound behind, Tomlinson embarked on a journey of self-discovery by embracing his British roots and revitalizing his musical journey with a fresh mindset.

After returning to London from the third edition of his Away From Home festival in Lido di Camaiore, Italy, Tomlinson prepares to continue his global album tour for Faith in the Future across Europe. But there’s much more than music on his mind these days – before he jets off on tour, he’s sitting down with Hypebeast to discuss all things 28, his all-new streetwear label that embodies everything he has been, is, and will be.

Growing up in Northern England naturally gravitated Tomlinson to football, selling pies at his boyhood club, Doncaster Rovers. But he’s kept a keen eye on fashion since his early childhood. “When I grew up, I viewed Doncaster as a working-class town. Now, when I go back to Doncaster, the streets have a real sense of style. That wasn’t the norm for me growing up; there was just scruffy and cool — there was really no in-between. We couldn’t afford really nice clothes, so it was just about working with what you got.”

Standing out has always been of utmost importance for Tomlinson, aligning his laidback attitude with the clothes on his back. Football tops were always a staple, taking to vintage and charity shops to find hidden gems that strayed from normality. “It was always important for me to look cool as a young lad, and I always enjoyed wearing good clothes. You might think, in a place like Doncaster, that it isn’t about fashion — and fashion might be the wrong word — because the thing that would turn people’s noses was that everyone is striving to look cool.”

Known for wearing striped tees and suspenders in One Direction, Tomlinson grew into his true self after the band’s hiatus, returning to his Doncaster roots and embracing comfort at all times. “As a young lad going into a business like this, you are surrounded by people telling you what’s cool and what isn’t. I’d say the boys could relate to this; you have to go through the motions of letting the industry tell you what they think you should do — because you don’t have enough confidence in that world yet to say: actually, no, I want to dress how I want to dress,” the singer-songwriter explains.

He grew up wearing essential British tracksuits, football tops, and trainers, drastically different from the boyband style that had every member dressed in “uniform.” “It’s only as I’ve grown confident in myself that I started to revert back to how I dressed as a young lad, just a kind of modern example of that. I really do wear Doncaster on every item of clothing that I put on, even if it’s subconscious, it’s so much a part of who I am.”

Launching 28 is a tribute to his humble beginnings in music, fashion, and sport, representing his Doncaster Rovers squad number and his lifetime devotion to the football club. The brand idea came to him nearly a decade ago, taking a closer look at standard tour merchandise and finding missing pieces, feeling “a creative itch that I wanted to scratch.”

28’s first drop is a tribute to all things football, embracing the beautiful game through vintage-inspired sports silhouettes destined for summertime. Checkered green tracksuits are ideal for pre-game antics, featuring distorted and faded patterns alongside “OFFICIAL PROGRAMME” collared jerseys.

While concert apparel caterers to the general public, 28 allows his artistic talents to run wild. “That’s why 28 excites me. It’s something that can be a little bit more tailored, a little bit more stylized. I suppose it’s similar to songwriting… seeing how deep your imagination can go when creating clothes.”

When designing 28’s first drop, Tomlinson pushed comfort forward through quality craftsmanship and refined fabric manipulations. His ideas feature heavily across every design, architected on lightweight hoodies, turtleneck collars, and distressed knitwear. Abstract floral illustrations bloom on additional designs, complementing the collection with a neutral color palette. Collections will release on the 28th of each month, expanding its sportswear identity one step at a time.

28 is undeniably football-focused, making clothes he would identify with as a young boy growing up in “Donny.” Tomlinson aims to bring his community together with interactive drops and a story to tell, enlisting emerging creatives to front the brand’s first campaign. “Community is something that runs throughout everything I do, and after getting the casting ideas for the models, I knew I wanted to use street models. I didn’t want to use that traditional model face because that’s not what I grew up with,” Tomlinson says.

“If I picture that rough lad I grew up with in Doncaster, he certainly didn’t have that look — he just looked cool in the clothes,” Tomlinson says with a wide smile, “There’s a beautiful authenticity to that. I think there’s a more interesting way and authentic way of telling these stories for 28.” While Tomlinson is the brand’s Creative Director, he sees 28 standing on its own two feet without his face attached, building a core community within its evolving identity.

So what’s in store next for Tomlinson? “I’m going back on tour, which is my favorite thing to do. At some point, there’ll be a new record. I don’t know when, though; I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself and just trying to enjoy it. I’m mostly tour-focused right now — that’s why I love creating 28 — because it means that when my brain is all on touring and music, it’s creatively fulfilling to get into something else and scratch that itch.”

TEXT BY

Andrea Sacal

#hypebeast #louis tomlinson #28clothing #28.8.2023 #louis press

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hldailyupdate · 9 months

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via HYPEBEAST. (28 August 2023)

#louis tomlinson #louis update #28 clothing #hypebeast #article #august 2023

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louistomlinsoncouk · 9 months

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#louis tomlinson #press #28aug23 #28 clothing

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dailytomlinson · 9 months

Quote

When I grew up, I viewed Doncaster as a working-class town. Now, when I go back to Doncaster, the streets have a real sense of style. That wasn’t the norm for me growing up; there was just scruffy and cool — there was really no in-between. We couldn’t afford really nice clothes, so it was just about working with what you got.

Louis to Hypebeast

#280823 #louis tomlinson #28clothing #hypebeast

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ye-olde-sodor · 7 months

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Hurt (A DC au fic) (Tw warning)

Hey all! Ths fic is a bit darker than what I usually post, so please read with caution! It isn't over the top dark and it has a happy ending so I included the ttte tags. Tw warning for depression and death mention! Angst but with a happy ending!

______________________________________________________________

Gordon sighed as he backed into the old shed at Vicarstown. He bid his crew farewell, and he let his weight sink into the old rails below. The shed was old and dilapidated, completely void of any comfort, but he didn't feel like running all the way back to Tidmouth. It was a miracle that he was even moving at all.

It had been years since Scott had sailed to America. After a change in politics left his tour unfunded and bankrupt, everyone had feared for the worst. Sure enough, to his utter horror, one of Scotts trailing wheels was delivered to Doncaster from America, and the nation fell into mourning.

The United States had repeatedly denied sending the wheel and scrapping Scott, but all of the evidence was pointing to the painfully obvious. Out of everything, it was the blatant denial of any wrongdoing that truly got under his metal plating. He fumed just by the thought of it.

Worst yet, the family had begun to finally tear away from it's surviving members. For whatever reason, Scott had made the young, inexperienced Mallard the family matriarch over him or even Spencer...and gave the majority of the money to him.

Did he feel betrayed? Of course he did, anyone in his wheels would feel hurt and bitter by that. Did he feel jealous? Name me a time where Gordon wasn't jealous. But above all else...he was in agony.

The sounds of his screams upon hearing the news still haunt the inhabitants of Sodor...several months after the wheel was first brough to Doncaster. Outrage and a need for vengeance fueled him in a mighty burst of pure fire. In a matter of moments, he became a raging inferno accompanied by the shrilled shrieks of the phoenix, only for the cold and bitter misery to arrive and smother that once mighty flame just as quickly.

That same fury nearly took hold of him again when Mallard swiftly left the funeral service to attend to Scott's will. How dare he abandon his only family to "deal with the necessities"?! Would it have killed him to pay his respects to the engine he claimed to view as a mentor? His predecessor, a father dare one say?! Like with the last burst of fury, however, it was quickly drenched in a water known as despair. As Gordon thundered down the line back home, he felt nothing but the numbness of depression.

Now here he was, sitting in a cold abandoned shed near Kildane, barely living but so far from death. His eyes felt sunken, and his smokebox door felt heavy. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that his own face would come clean off its hinges, landing onto the ground with a sickening thud and disintegrate into dust.

His entire frame felt weak and brittle, but it still stood firm and strong under his weight. He had lost all of his energy and his sense of importance and high regard. He stopped taking the express since the day the wheel arrived and has been pulling filthy goods trains ever since.

His once proud and royal blue paint had become covered in soot, grime, and various other stains. His eyes were red from countless tears and sleepless nights, hindering his performance even more. Dark circles under his eyes accompanied the redness, further showing his deterioration and lack of self care.

To list every agony that Gordon is suffering through would take years. Gordon had become a fallen star, a star of which that was rapidly falling apart as we speak.

As he sulked in the crumbling shed, the low bellowing of a diesel had become audible. It's proud motor seemed to echo across invisible valleys as it approached. He shifted his eyes to look in the direction of the noise to see who would dare approach such a dilapidated structure. To his surprise, he recognized the large Warship.

"10? What are you doing here?" Gordon spoke weakly.

"I was just gonna ask you the same thing." he replied in an equally stunned voice. "This is usually my shed."

Gordon's weight shifted under the rails again. "Oh. I'm sorry...I can leave if-"

"No no, it's fine." 10 interrupted. "I'm just surprised is all. You can stay here, I'll just park beside you."

He did as he promised, and carefully backed into the shed, sitting on top of the rails to Gordon's left. Gordon heard a door open and quickly closed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy the mechanical arm of 10's driver speed away after bidding his engine farewell. Apparently he knew that the two were about to have an intimate conversation.

"How are you holding up?" The large engine asked cautiously.

At first, Gordon was hesitant to answer. Truth be told he wasn't well at all...but at the same time he didn't want to hinder anyone else and have them worry more about him more then their work. Fortunately, 10 already knew the answer, and spoke Gordon's mind on his behalf.

"About as well as you can?" he spoke gently, as not to come off as condescending.

"You and I both now how much it hurts," Gordon began. "To lose a sibling...but to lose someone who was guaranteed survival."

Gordon trailed off, tears already beginning to form in his eyes. For the first time in years, he felt weak. His eyes began to soften as he let himself show such a powerful emotion in front of what is supposed to be his replacement, his rival even. He had already let his emotions erupt before, so it would've been hypocritical to hide them anymore.

"There is no greater pain then that." he finished through tears.

10 remained silent, and respectfully allowed the other engine to sob. His tears streamed down his face and began to pool onto his buffers and the ground below. The rails slightly sunk into the now wet soil, a result of the ground underneath it being disturbed.

10 had never seen such a thing before. An engine sobbing in front of another was unheard of on the Mainland, so to see such raw emotion from someone so uptight...why he couldn't explain the feeling even if he could.

"And the worst part of it?" Gordon went on shakily. "It isn't even over yet."

"What do you mean?"

Gordon thought for a moment and decided that he could no longer bare the weight of his dilemma any longer. As soon as he composed himself as best as he could, he looked at the warship.

"Promise me you won't speak of this. To anyone. What I'm about to tell you must stay between us."

"I promise." he spoke carefully, surprised at how trusting the engine was being to him. Then again, anyone in Gordon's position would've been grasping for any sort of comfort. Even if his better judgement wouldn't allow it.

"It's Scott's will," Gordon explained weakly. "Ryan is convinced someone tampered with it in Mallard's favor. Everyone on Spencer's side of the family is convinced that there isn't any evidence for such a claim. Now Ryan and his siblings are up in arms against his."

10 was suddenly intrigued by what he was being told. He'd heard of stories about forgeries, especially during his time as a bounty hunter. He suddenly found a source of hope, that his past might finally prove useful.

"Why would he think that?" he asked respectfully.

"Mallard got a majority of Scott's finances and properties. The rest of it went to Spencer and his half of the family, myself and Ryan."

"That does sound weird...What's Mallard doing now?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't spoken to him since the funeral." he said. "Or anyone for that matter...you're the only person I've talked to about this."

Diesel 10 was stunned. Astonished even, more so then he was before. It was already bizarre enough to have someone like Gordon vent to him of all engines, but to have him be the only person to vent about his feelings to? Why, he didn't know what to feel! Honored? Prideful? Destressed? Concerned?

Gordon's eyes had finally dried, with the last tear falling into the puddle below him. He looked at the diesel with red, burned eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm completely lost."

"Y'know you really shouldn't be taking all of this on your own," 10 spoke abruptly. "Why don't you talk to the other steamies? Or even Hatt? Can't you get advice from him?"

Gordon nearly had a stroke at the suggestion. "You can't just...ask your controller for legal advice! It's improper!"

"Y'know what else is improper? Not talking to the people who can help you." He said sternly but gently. "Believe me, you don't ever want to make that mistake. It's how you end up making mistakes that you can't fix."

Gordon suddenly understood what the Warship was referring to. He had known about the Warship's past, as did most of the island, but he was the only one who truly understood his upbringing. To be robbed of your original purpose only to be thrown into a new one, and to have it end up for the better or for the worst of you. It doesn't take a genius to know who ended up where.

Gordon respected him, in a turn of events. Was 10 at one point resentful of Gordon's own privileges? He would've been a fool to deny that. Did he eventually overcome this prejudice and turned into one of the islands most reliable engines? Yes, but it's hard to believe that an airport of all things could've been the catalyst for such a change in demeanor.

Either way, Gordon couldn't help but see himself in the Warships position. Gordon was sent to Sodor after being an excellent engine at Doncaster...and he felt betrayed by the decision. He liked where he was, his family was there, why did they take it away from him? Was he not good enough? Over time, he grew to love his new home and job, but it took many years for him to heal from the sudden changes and hurt feelings.

10, meanwhile, had the misfortune of being sent for scrap with the rest of his siblings, only to be salvaged by some lunatic who gutted his cab and installed a massive hydraulic claw into it. He spent years hunting down the engines that had fled their railways...but would return with a broken husk of an engine trailing behind him.

Almost all runaway engines are stored in sheds until their crews can find a proper sanctuary, but without proper maintenance and a lack of movement after so much time...The warship became less of a bounty hunter and more of a corpse collector.

The more he thought about it, the more Gordon realized just how much they understand each other. The two were so similar yet so very different. It practically scared Gordon.

Looking at the mighty Warship now, it's virtually impossible to tell that he went through so much. He cares for those around him, and he's been a gentle giant for years now. He's went through years of pain and torment and yet here is smiling and working hard as if it had never happened!

As Gordon thought more and more about 10, and how he managed to pull through in the end gave him a newfound sense of hope. While not nearly enough to overpower his grief yet, it gave him a head start.

"I...I'll see if I can get the chance to talk to him." Gordon spoke, having found his strength. "He is a rather busy man after all."

"If he really cares about you steamers like his kids," 10 replied, "Then I bet he'll make time."

Gordon was taken aback by the phrase. "You don't really believe in that little rumor, do you?"

It was a lighthearted joke on the island's part, but 10 believed it to be fact. After all, this was the Hatt family we're talking about. The very same family that would gladly break the law just to keep a steam engine from being scrapped.

10 chuckled lightly, "That was a rumor?"

"Depends on who you ask." he replied cheekily. While his mood was lifted, he knew it would be a long time before he truly felt better. This wasn't, however, meant to discourage the smaller steps…as he could already see a flicker of hope at the end if a ling tunnel.

"Hey, there we go!" 10 smiled. If he had arms, he would've placed one of them around his friend for comfort and encouragement. Alas, he was stuck with only his words. In any other case, he would've used his claw, but that would've damaged the already weakened shed.

Suddenly, the Warship had an idea.

"Say, I think we can squeeze the two of us in my shed back at home base."

Gordon cocked an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Oh? what about-"

"It's only a short drive, maybe 15 minutes tops. If we leave now we can-"

"10, what about our drivers?" Gordon interrupted with a slight laugh.

The Warship blushed as the realization had dawned on him. While it was quite the blunder, if he acts quickly, he can fix it.

"I mean we could always leave a note!"

…or not.

Gordon let out a long needed laugh, and it wasn’t long before the warship joined in as well!

The two allies would’ve laughed the night away if weariness didn’t overcome them. As the two settled their weight ontop of the old rails, Gordon felt a small warmth build in his firebox, and he allowed a smile to form as he drifted effortlessly to sleep.

#ttte au #ttte #ttte dc au #ttte gordon #ttte shipping #ig #ttte diesel 10 #this has been in my drafts for months lmao #it’s finally finished lmao

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alarrylarrie · 1 year

Note

for me, 'you were the love of my life' is directed at Louis. It is a break up song. Harry is emotional singing it at his shows. It's not about missing England. If he missed England that much he would spend more time there but he doesn't. Late night talking and cinema are about a new relationship. As for FITF, I see very little domesticity on there. It's mostly about Louis' friends and doncaster, definitely with some Harry undertones but that suggest a break up. Fine Line and Walls were break up albums. Nowadays they're hardly in the same continent. Louis literally spent Valentine's Day in LA setting up a stunt with his beard. He was in LA for The Brits. He was with his beard for The Grammys. He was in LA for Harry's birthday. Like what is it that makes you think they're together? Because they bluegreen?

Couple quick things. Here on my blog, I refer to their closet relationships by their first names. So yes, Louis was with Sofie on Valentine’s Day.

Secondly, and I mean this as gently as possible, but it sounds like your mind is good and well made up love. You’re stating a lot as fact here, some things that we clearly have opposite points of view on? And that’s fine! I’m just not sure what the opinion of a lonely old maid like me will do?

Anyway. You asked me why I think they’re still together. And no, it’s not bluegreening, though I think it would almost be funnier if ALL of that stuff just happened to be coincidence. But for me it’s more like… their original tour schedules being almost surgically precise with times around the world where they both had breaks and were in the same spots (or very close, you get the idea) their upcoming Asia leg is like that now. It’s both of them having a friend that they talk about in interviews, often this “friend” says things that sound eerily similar to the other one. It’s Our Mr. Styles. It’s their same friends and intertwined lives that I haven’t seen suggestions of them untangling. It’s no tattoo removals, but no new big pieces either. It’s song lyrics of which we clearly have different interpretations.

Mostly, my dear, I’m not here to convince anyone. If you think they broke up forever, that’s cool! But I don’t. So we’ll have to just agree to disagree, wish each other well, and go on merry ways. (This is me wishing you well, anon) Thanks for stopping by! I hope you have a good day!

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mariacallous · 1 year

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There’s an international socialist conspiracy afoot, and it wants to make it easier to walk to the shops. Fringe forces of the far left are plotting to take away our freedom to be stuck in traffic jams, to crawl along clogged ring roads and trawl the streets in search of a parking spot. The liberty of the rush-hour commute, the sanctity of the out-of-town shopping centre and the righteousness of the suburban food desert is under threat as never before. The name of this chilling global movement? The “15-minute city”.

Westminster can often seem like a badly scripted spoof of itself, but rarely has parliament descended into parody as far as it did last week, when the Conservative MP for the South Yorkshire constituency of Don Valley, Nick Fletcher, launched a plucky tirade against the concept of convenient, walkable neighbourhoods. “Will the leader of the house please set aside time for a debate on the international socialist concept of so-called 15-minute cities and 20-minute neighbourhoods?” he asked, in an ominous tone. “Sheffield is already on this journey, and I do not want Doncaster, which also has a Labour-run socialist council, to do the same.”

It is not the first time that an online conspiracy theory has made it into the Commons chamber, but it may be one of the most surreal. Simply put, the 15-minute city principle suggests you should have your daily needs – work, food, healthcare, education, culture and leisure – within a 15-minute walk or bike ride from where you live. It sounds pleasant enough, but in the minds of libertarian fanatics and the bedroom commentators of TikTok, it represents an unprecedented assault on personal freedoms.

“Creepy local authority bureaucrats would like to see your entire existence boiled down to the duration of a quarter of an hour,” warned a furious presenter on GB News last week, as if describing a plot line from Nineteen Eighty-Four. The 15-minute city, he suggested, was a “dystopian plan”, heralding “a surveillance culture that would make Pyongyang envious”.

Never before has a mundane theory of urbanism been such a lightning rod for outrage. It’s like suggesting that public parks are part of a sinister plant-worshipping plot to demolish our homes and replace them with grass. Or that public transport is the work of a satanic bus cult. Some online forums have claimed that the 15-minute city represents the first step towards an inevitable Hunger Games society, in which residents will not be allowed to leave their prescribed areas. They see it not as a route to a low-traffic, low-carbon future, but as the beginning of a slippery slope to living in an open-air prison.

As one irate TikToker shrieked, while jumping around his room in disbelief: “You’re going to have to apply for a fucking permit to leave your zone!” (Although he also ascribed the 15-minute city plans to the Tories, so it’s not quite clear which deranged Reddit forum he got his information from).

There are lots of good reasons to interrogate the cute logic of the 15-minute city – could it actually lead to further social segregation? Would wealthy residents, and their money, remain in the prosperous enclaves? Who is providing the services and where do they live? – but the threat of our rights being curtailed by travel permits isn’t one of them.

The conspiracy theory pot was given a powerful stir in December, when the Canadian rightwing culture warrior Jordan Peterson decided to get involved. “The idea that neighbourhoods should be walkable is lovely,” he tweeted, in a post that has since clocked up 7.5m views. “The idea that idiot tyrannical bureaucrats can decide by fiat where you’re ‘allowed’ to drive is perhaps the worst imaginable perversion of that idea,” he continued, “and, make no mistake, it’s part of a well-documented plan.” Peterson quoted a tweet that featured the telltale hashtag #GreatReset, referring to the World Economic Forum’s post-pandemic economic recovery plan – widely used in the stranger corners of the internet as a byword for a shadowy global conspiracy intent on robbing us of our freedoms. The anti-vaccine, pro-Brexit, climate-denying, 15-minute-phobe, Great Reset axis is a strong one.

So where did the fear come from? Many of the UK conspiracy theorists highlight that these “un-British” ideas of urban walkability emanate from France, so they must be distrusted on principle. Worse than that, they point out, the ideology has been driven by a bearded Colombian scientist with radical roots. The ideas had been around since the 1920s, but the 15-minute city phrase was coined by Carlos Moreno, esteemed professor at the Panthéon-Sorbonne in Paris, who was once a member of a leftwing guerrilla group in the 1970s. And now he’s coming for your cars.

“Their lies are enormous,” Moreno said in a recent interview , describing some of the claims made by his critics. “You will be locked in your neighbourhood; cameras will signal who can go out; if your mother lives in another neighbourhood, you will have to ask for permission to see her, and so on,” adding that they “sometimes post pictures of concentration camps.”

Moreno first promoted his concept of la ville du quart d’heure in 2016, but it gained international attention when the mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, adopted it as part of her re-election campaign in 2020. She promised she would close off roads and turn them into public plazas, plant more trees and turn schools into the “capitals of the neighbourhood”, open to everyone for sports and recreation in evenings and at weekends.

The pandemic proved to be a powerful trial for how a 15-minute city might work in practice, and led to bodies such as UN Habitat, the World Economic Forum, the C40 Global Cities Climate Network and the Federation of United Local Governments championing the cause – which also helped to boost unhinged fantasies that it is all part of a grand global scheme of totalitarian oppression.

More recently, the principles have gained traction in the UK, with Oxford, Birmingham, Bristol, Canterbury and Sheffield councils considering 15-minute city ideas. Cue outrage from those with no other cause left to flog. “The climate change lockdowns are coming,” tweeted Nigel Farage, in response to Canterbury’s innocuous traffic filtering scheme, while Oxford’s plans triggered similar ripples of incredulous fury.

“Oxfordshire County Council yesterday approved plans to lock residents into one of six zones to ‘save the planet’ from global warming,” screamed one alarmist headline. “The latest stage in the ‘15-minute city’ agenda is to place electronic gates on key roads in and out of the city, confining residents to their own neighbourhoods.” The claims had zero basis in fact, but they poured further fuel on the fire of those battling low-traffic neighbourhoods, and their fellow band of assorted culture warriors.

It seems fitting that a leaflet drop warning against Oxford’s traffic filters plan was organised by Not Our Future – a new pressure group led by none other than Fred and Richard Fairbrass of 1990s band turned anti-vaxxers Right Said Fred. Too sexy for their car? Maybe they could try cycling to the shops instead.

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daisyblog · 5 months

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Christmas Gift

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry announce their pregnancy.

yntomlinson

liked by annetwist, louist91, and 3,876,345 others

yntomlinson Christmas came early 👶🏻🤍 View all 12,034 comments

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jefezoff Congratulations again Lovebirds!

liampayne A massive congratulations!! Nobody deserves this more xx

helenehorlyck Congratulations ❤️

lloyddddddddddddddddd Congratulations H and YN! Love this photo 😉 ⌞yntomlinson 📸: lloyddddddddddddddddd

pillowpersonpp Congratulations H and YN!! Welcome to parenthood x

bradgouldtraining Congratulations H and YN x

benselleymusic Congratulations both! So happy for you x

elladeannemurray I'm so excited!! Thea and Eden can't wait for their new cousin x

matty_selley A huge congratulations to you both! Amazing news ❤️

brianasrealaccount congratulations auntie YN and uncle Harry, love from Freddie❤️❤️❤️

mrbenwinston A massive congratulations x

madidiaz Congratulations both❤️

lizzo BABY STYYYYYYLES❤️❤️❤️

nicholasgrimshaw Congratulations! Are we still on for an orange juice?

perrieedwards congratulations beaut!! Get ready for the most incredible journey of your life 🤍

jamescordon I still can't believe it! Congratulations to you both x

daniellepeazer Congratulations beautiful girl❤️

taylorswift Congratulations!

zoesugg Congratulations 🤍

joshdevinedrums Aw congratulations!!!

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After posting and sharing their baby news that they had been hiding for a few weeks, the fans and what felt like the whole world went crazy because Harry Styles and YN Tomlinson was having a baby!

CelebNews

Harry Styles and YN Tomlinson announce they’re expecting their first child

The news we have all been waiting for!

YN Tomlinson has announced she is pregnant with her first child with fiancé Harry Styles.

YN shared her pregnancy news on Instagram with a photo. The photo was of her cradling her baby bump and laughing, whilst Harry is kissing her bump.

YN captioned the post "Christmas came early 👶🏻🤍".

29-year-old YN is the younger sister of One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson. She is an influencer with over 8 million followers and the owner of the clothing brand Styles Fashion.

YN and Harry first began dating in September 2011. Their relationship was exposed after the One Direction star was seen kissing his bandmates sister at a friends party.

The couple are childhood sweethearts, after being together 12 years. The pair split briefly in early 2018 but confirmed their reconciliation in December 2018, when YN posted a photo of them at her family home in Doncaster.

Louis commented on the pregnancy post “Absolutely buzzing!!!”. Many other family members of the couple were quick to share their congratulations with Anne Twist, Harry's Mum, commenting “Congratulations my babies ❤️ I can't wait to meet your precious baby xx” and Niall Horan commenting “Congratulations again guys!! So happy for you x”.

---

Both, YN and Harry were bombarded with messages of congratulations but thousands of questions about their pregnancy. So YN decided an Instagram live was the best way to answer the burning questions.

Clicking the Live button on the app, notified YN’s followers. YN balanced her phone against the vase that sat in the middle of their kitchen island, before she took a seat on the stool, one of their Christmas trees sat in the background.

“Hi everyone!” YN spoke to those who had joined her live. “A lot of you have been asking me questions about the baby...and pregnancy and stuff...so I thought we'd come on here answer them.".

harryfan1: CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! 1Dfan: So happy for you and Harry ❤️❤️❤️ 1Dfan2: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ harryfan2: WHERES HARRY??????? ynrryupdate: Congrats to you both!!

"Thank you all for the congratulations...it means so much." YN read the comments that fans were leaving. "Where's Harry?". YN laughed at the comment. "Harry's just taken Teddy out the garden for a quick run around...he'll be back."

harryfan3: Can we see Teddy???? ynfan: You're glowing 💗 harryynfan: love you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 harryfan4: Hi YN!! ynrryfan: how are you? 🤍

"How are you?...Aw that's sweet." YN noticed one of the comments, asking how she was. "I'm feeling really good...thank you for asking."

To the sound of the door opening, YN turned her head. "Hey bubs...I'm doing a live.". Harry stood behind YN, his arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

"Hi." Harry smiled at the reflection of them both on the screen.

harryfan5: HARRY!!!! ynfan: HI HARRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYY!! harryynfan2: I love your hair Harry ❤️ harryfan2: How many weeks pregnant are you? ynrryfan4: you're both so cute🤍

"What hair?" Harry joked at the comment about the fan loving his hair. "I'm joking, thank you very much.".

"How many weeks pregnant are you?". YN read out loud, her hand casually holding onto Harry's forearm. "I'm seventeen weeks...almost eighteen.".

harryfan6: have you had any symptoms?? louisfan5: add louis! niallhoran: Uncle Niall's here!! harryupdate: 17 WEEKS?!?!?!?!?!?!?! tomlinsonfan2: ❤️

"Have you had any symptoms?" Harry read the comment, from where he still stood behind YN. "You've been tired a lot, haven't ya?.

YN nodded "Uh yeah...we didn't actually find out I was pregnant until I was fourteen weeks." YN began to explain. "But before that I just wanted to sleep...I had a lot of headaches and a bit of nausea too.".

Harry began to laugh as he spotted the Irish lad's name. "Niall's here.".

"Niall!" YN got excited that Niall was watching the live. "Guys...Niall thinks he's going to be the favourite Uncle!".

niallfan2: Niall ❤️ 1Dfan3: Hi Niall!! All the boys are going to be uncles! niallhoran: I am the favourite uncle x harryynupdate: Not louis and niall arguing over the baby 😂😂😂 stylesfan3: Louis will be the favourite ❤️❤️❤️

"Louis said you're not taking his spot." YN continued to tease Niall. Harry moved so he could sit next to YN at the kitchen island and discreetly wrapping his arm around her waist.

ynfan: I love you 💗 harryfan6: do you know the gender???? ynharrystyles: Is the baby a boy or girl? harryynupdates: YN and Louis are so alike 😂 1Dfan2: Louis will be the favourite ❤️❤️❤️

"We don't know the gender of the baby yet." YN answered as she noticed people starting to ask about the gender. "We're gonna find out in like two weeks.".

"Just in time for Christmas." Harry smiled as he looked at YN.

"Yeah...we're going to surprise everyone on Christmas with the gender." YN revealed their plan to share the gender with their families. "What do all of you think the gender is?".

1Dfan6: Girl 💗 harryfan9: BOY!! ynharrystyles: Boy 💙 tomlinsonupdates: Girl 💗💗💗💗💗 niallhoran: Girl x harryupdate: GIIIIIIRRRRRLLLLL💗

"Lots of you are saying girl...Harry thinks girl too!" YN spoke, before turning her attention to Harry. "I go through phases...sometimes I think we're having a boy and then I can only picture you as a dad of girls.".

"What do you mean?" He questioned her.

"Like...I just think you're a girl dad." YN began to explain. "She'd have you wrapped around her little finger.".

Harry's comeback was quick. "Like you have?".

"Exactly!"

1Dfan4: WHY ARE YOU BOTH SO CUTE!! harryfan3: How many children would you both like? ❤️ ynharrystyles: Harry is definitely a girl dad 🥹 harryynupdates: the way they look at each other 🥰 ynfan5: ❤️❤️❤️

"How many children would you both like?". YN read out another question that had popped up on the screen. "Bubs?".

Harry pouted his lips as he thought. "Uh..I'd definitely like two children.".

"Two?". YN questioned, before adding her own thoughts. "I'd have like five!".

"Five?". Harry's head shot quickly in shock.

YN shrugged her shoulders. "Bubs..I literally have seven siblings...I like the choas of having a big family."

harryfan7: Harry's face 😂😂😂😂😂 ynfan: 😂😂😂 harryynfan: Harry's like "two's enough" 😂 harryfan9: How did your families react?🤍 ynrryfan: Is Louis excited?

"Our families are so excited." Harry answered. "Aren't they?".

"Their reactions were just the best." YN explained, as she thought about a few weeks ago when they shared the news. "Louis has already bought three outfits for the baby...I think he's excited because he sends me photos of baby stuff all the time".

"My Mum cried...happy tears" Harry spoke. "And Gemma literally texts me everyday saying 'how's my favourite baby'".

"Lottie screamed...Daisy and Phoebe were in shock." YN let out a giggle. "But their super happy...Daisy's loving auntie life.".

harryfan6: What names do you like? louisfan5: This baby is going to loved ❤️❤️❤️ 1dfan9: ❤️❤️ harryupdate: I'M SO EXCITED!! tomlinsonfan6: ❤️

"Guys...we are struggling with names." YN took a sip of her cup of tea. "We just can't narrow any of them down...we're hoping that once we know the gender it'll be easier."

"Send us some names." Harry instructed. "We'll let you name our baby." Harry joked.

louisfan5: Harry Junior! ynfan: Cherrie???? harryynfan2: Nora - for a girl 🤍 harryfan8: Arlo, Hudson, Luna, Pippa, Oscar!! tomlinsonstyles4: Diana ❤️❤️❤️

"Also...If any of you have babies or children...please send me your must have for the nursery." YN asked. "We like a neutral theme for the nursery because we want it to be calm and relaxing.".

1Dfan3: Will you keep us updated on the baby??? harryfan9: Imagine being Harry and YN's baby? 🥹 ynharrystyles: the baby doesn't even know that Harry and YN are it's parents and Louis their uncle harryynupdates: can we see your bump?? ❤️❤️ ynfan2: HARRY WE NEED KIWI PART 2!!!! 🥝

YN stood from her seat. "I do have a little bump." Harry placed his hand on YN's tummy, something that had become a habit. "But I'm at the stage where people are trying to guess if I'm pregnant or just eaten too much.".

Harry placed a kiss to YN's bump as she still stood, reading through the comments. YN let out a loud chuckle, causing Harry to look at her with a smirk at what had tickled her so much. "Someone commented saying..Harry we need a Kiwi part two".

A cheeky grin covered Harry's face. "Guys..if I'm gonna make a part two to a song...then it'll be for Watermelon Sugar.".

YN's stared at Harry in shock, her mouth wide open. "Harry!".

"Gotta get my watermelon sugar high.".

"On that note...we're ending the live there 'cause Harry can't be trusted to keep it clean.". YN tried to act annoyed but the fans and Harry could see straight through her.

"It's a family show!".

Tag List: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

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