Hiii, can you please link your masterlist because it’s not opening when I clicked on it. I just read some of your writings and it’s amazing, you’re such a good writer. Would love to read more of your writings:))
hiiii, i’m sorry for the late reply! thank you so much! that truly means so much to me!
heres the link :) masterlist
I decided to re-do the first two parts of the Positive series to one part, I hope you like it.
You were no longer Mrs. Styles.
It had happened so fast; him confessing that he had been unfaithful, to the endless fights and, finally, the divorce. Though, telling your three-year-old daughter was the hardest part and it broke the both of you to see her with tears in her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling, promising to be a good girl as long as you stayed a family.
“Can we talk?” He asked, bringing you back from your thoughts, “Darcy is taking a nap.”
“Yes,” you sniffled, realising the tears in your eyes.
You laid the, now, signed divorce papers down on the table, turning around to face him. He looked pale, eyes dull from the endless fights. He was tired, but so was you.
“Can we try to discuss things without fighting, please?” He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, knowing fully well how it will end.
“I guess,” you mumbled.
You had been fighting for a week now, not getting closer to any solution as he would storm out of the house, leaving you behind, crying, and come home the next morning.
“It isn’t fair,” he started, “It isn’t fair that I can’t have Darcy every other week.”
“Nothing in this life is fair, Harry. You’ve proven me that. I need her here with me. She is the only thing I got left and I’m not letting you take her away from me as well.”
“I need her, too. She is my daughter, too. Stop being so damn selfish. She is the only thing I’ve left as well,” he hissed, the anger inside him boiling up.
“Don’t you dare call me selfish, Harry,” you hissed back at him, “You ruined this family, not me. You slept with that other woman, Harry, not me. You’ve no right to call me selfish.”
You slammed the bedroom door behind you, having left the living room in tears with Harry’s eyes following you, his hands in his hair in frustration.
You had lost faith. The promises you once made no longer existed.
They were all broken and it broke you as well.
“Mamma,” a little voice spoke. You quickly opened the door, letting Darcy in. Her hair was messy after her afternoon nap, her stuffed elephant was tucked under her small arm, as she yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her little hand.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled, “Was it a nice nap?”
You picked her up and adjusted her on your hip, placing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead.
“Yes,” she lisped, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand, “Mamma, sad?” She looked at you with her big brown, and sparkling, eyes, touching your warm cheeks with her small hands as a concerned expression spread across her face.
“Mumma is a little bit sad, sweetheart, but I’m okay now,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek, “I love you, baby,” you said.
“I love you, Mamma.”
You kissed her cheek, once again, and sat her down as she started to squirm in your arms, and as soon as her little legs touched the ground, she walked over to the nightstand.
“Mamma, look,” she squealed, standing on the tip of her toes as she reached for a white and purple stick, “Mamma, it’s purple,” she giggled, loving the purple colour. Your eyes widened as soon as you saw what she was reaching for on the nightstand, “Honey, give it to Mamma, please,” you begged.
“No, Daddy see,” she squealed in excitement, running out of the bedroom, leaving her stuffed elephant behind.
You quickly grabbed the elephant from the floor, hurrying after her, trying to catch her before she reached Harry, but she had already reached him.
“Daddy, it’s purple,” she giggled as she climbed onto his lap to show him the purple stick, she was holding.
Harry smiled at her excitement, a grin on his face as he gently took the purple stick from her little hand to get a closer look on the item she had shown him.
His grin on his face soon disappeared and his stomach tightened as he saw what it was.
He looked up as you rounded the corner to the living room, his eyes on yours, and he knew.
Harry looked down at your, smiling, three-year-old, “Where did you get this from, honey?”
“Bedroom, daddy,” she giggled and slid off his lap, walking to her play area where she picked up her favorite doll to play with.
Harry’s eyes darted up to look at you, his throat dry as he spoke, “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” you answered quietly, suddenly starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
“When did you find out?”
“A week ago.”
“And you didn’t think I had the right to know?” His voice sounding deep and you could see the anger and the disappointment in his eyes.
You started to feel guilty for not telling him.
“I didn’t want you to know,” you whispered, immediately regretting it as the disappointment in his eyes disappeared.
“You didn’t want me to know,” he yelled, “You don’t think I’ve the right to know I’m going to be a father again? I’ve fucking every right to know,” he spit.
“Harry, please don’t yell,” you pleaded, “Please, Darce will hear you.”
The anger in his eyes was enough to tell you that right now, he didn’t care.
“Don’t yell? It’s a little god damn hard not to,” he yelled, “You’re being a selfish bitch and I can’t even look at you right now.”
He regretted the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth but he was to caught up in the moment to even process, what he had just said.
Your sadness and guilt was with an instant turned into anger, “What did you just say?”
He didn’t answer.
“Harry,” You hissed as he walked past you and into the kitchen, “Harry.”
You followed him and accidently knocked an old vase over.
“What the hell was that for?” He yelled.
“Stop yelling,” you screamed, “I can’t take this anymore, Harry.”
You paused for a second and you could feel his eyes burning into yours, “I didn’t want this to happen. I don’t want a child when you’re about to leave us. I don’t want this baby to grow up without its dad by its side,” you gestured, looking down at your stomach, “We can’t even have a conversation without yelling at each other, Harry. I’m tired and hurt,” you cried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bare the thought of telling you when you would be leaving the next day.”
It broke him. It broke him to see you in such a vulnerable state, knowing it was all his fault. His anger towards you disappeared, he couldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t fair to blame his mistakes on you.
He was angry with himself. He had let it come this far; he had let this happened and he could see you were falling apart. He could see the hurt in your eyes and the guilt was eating him up. He regretted it, he regretted it so much. You were the love of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without you and now he’d lost you. You were divorced and as much as he wanted you back, he knew that he couldn’t.
He couldn’t live with the guilt that he felt when he looked at you. You deserved someone who wouldn’t hurt you as he did. He wished he could be that person but he just couldn’t, not anymore. It was too late.
“I can’t do this. Not without you,” you cried in defeat. You felt helpless and you knew, you’d lost him, “I can’t do this, Harry. I can’t, not without you,” you repeated again, now sounding more broken than ever, “I love you so much but you hurt me, you hurt me so bad and it hurts so much.”
He could feel the tears in his eyes as he embraced you in his arms. You didn’t fight him; instead you melted into his arms, sobbing into the fabric of his shirt.
You weren’t ready to let him go.
“Shh, honey, shh. It will be ok, I promise,” he whispered, “I’ll always be here, no matter what,” he assured you, holding you tighter in his arms.
He could feel his heart break into pieces and for the first time, he didn’t know how it would be ok.
take a piece of my heart and make it all your own, so when we are apart, you’ll never be alone.
“Today’s my very first show without that medicine”
This speech hit me so hard. He is so incredibly brave. These moments are one of those why we know this is a person to person relationship. Nothing but love for him ♥️
This is gonna work Steve…I know it is, because I don’t know what I’m gonna do if it doesn’t
im personally not ready for this 😭
I just sent the ask about being excited I TAKE IT BACK PART 2 HURT TO READ (but please continue I love the pain and this story lol)
i’m sorryyy! i love you, thank you!
part two of you have no right to call me selfish YEEEEEEEEEE 🎊🎉🍾🥂 I haven’t even read it yet but I’m so excited about it I’m sending this first
awww, you’re so sweet! thank youuu
Hello and sorry for botherig. Thank you for blessing me with the Angst that is You Have Brought To Call Me Selfish. I was wondering if there'll be other Parts? If there is, would you have a tagging list that you could add me in? Thank you and have a wonderful day/night.
hi! thank you! i’m not sure, i know what you mean, what’s a tagging list? 🙈
This is part two of, You’ve no right to call me selfish.
Shawn looked down at your smiling three-year-old, “Where did you get this from, honey?”
“Bedroom, daddy,” she giggled and slid off his lap, walking to her play area where she picked up her favorite doll to play with.
Shawn’s eyes darted up to look at you, his throat dry as he spoke, “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” you answered quietly, suddenly starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
“When did you find out?”
“A week ago.”
“And you didn’t think I had the right to know?” His voice sounding deep and you could see the anger and the disappointment in his eyes.
You started to feel guilty for not telling him.
“I didn’t want you to know,” you whispered, immediately regretting it as the disappointment in his eyes disappeared.
“You didn’t want me to know,” he yelled, “You don’t think I’ve the right to know I’m going to be a father again? I’ve fucking every right to know,” he spit.
“Shawn, please don’t yell,” you pleaded, “Please, Sky will hear you.”
The anger in his eyes was enough to tell you that right now, he didn’t care.
“Don’t yell? It’s a little god damn hard not to,” he yelled, “You’re being a selfish bitch and I can’t even look at you right now.”
He regretted the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth but he was to caught up in the moment to even process, what he had just said.
Your sadness and guilt was with an instant turned into anger, “What did you just say?”
He didn’t answer.
“Shawn,” You hissed as he walked past you and into the kitchen, “Shawn.”
You followed him and accidently knocked an old vase over.
“What the hell was that for?” He yelled.
“Stop yelling,” you screamed, “I can’t take this anymore, Shawn.”
You paused for a second and you could feel his eyes burning into yours, “I didn’t want this to happen. I don’t want a child when you’re about to leave us. I don’t want this baby to grow up without its dad by its side,” you gestured, looking down at your stomach, “We can’t even have a conversation without yelling at each other, Shawn. I’m tired and hurt,” you cried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bare the thought of telling you when you would be leaving the next day.”
It broke him. It broke him to see you in such a vulnerable state, knowing it was all his fault. His anger towards you disappeared, he couldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t fair to blame his mistakes on you.
He was angry with himself. He had let it come this far; he had let this happened and he could see you were falling apart. He could see the hurt in your eyes and the guilt was eating him up. He regretted it, he regretted it so much. You were the love of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without you and now he’d lost you. You were divorced and as much as he wanted you back, he knew that he couldn’t.
He couldn’t live with the guilt that he felt when he looked at you. You deserved someone who wouldn’t hurt you as he did. He wished he could be that person but he just couldn’t, not anymore. It was too late.
“I can’t do this, Shawn. Not without you,” you cried in defeat. You felt helpless and you knew, you’d lost him, “I can’t do this, Shawn. I can’t, not without you,” you repeated again, now sounding more broken than ever, “I love you so much but you hurt me, you hurt me so bad and it hurts so much.”
He could feel the tears in his eyes as he embraced you in his arms. You didn’t fight him; instead you melted into his arms, sobbing into the fabric of his shirt.
You weren’t ready to let him go.
“Shh, honey, shh. It will be ok, I promise,” he whispered, “I’ll always be here, no matter what,” he assured you, holding you tighter in his arms.
He could feel his heart break into pieces and for the first time, he didn’t know how it would be ok.
This is part two of, You’ve no right to call me selfish.
Shawn looked down at your smiling three-year-old, “Where did you get this from, honey?”
“Bedroom, daddy,” she giggled and slid off his lap, walking to her play area where she picked up her favorite doll to play with.
Shawn’s eyes darted up to look at you, his throat dry as he spoke, “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” you answered quietly, suddenly starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
“When did you find out?”
“A week ago.”
“And you didn’t think I had the right to know?” His voice sounding deep and you could see the anger and the disappointment in his eyes.
You started to feel guilty for not telling him.
“I didn’t want you to know,” you whispered, immediately regretting it as the disappointment in his eyes disappeared.
“You didn’t want me to know,” he yelled, “You don’t think I’ve the right to know I’m going to be a father again? I’ve fucking every right to know,” he spit.
“Shawn, please don’t yell,” you pleaded, “Please, Sky will hear you.”
The anger in his eyes was enough to tell you that right now, he didn’t care.
“Don’t yell? It’s a little god damn hard not to,” he yelled, “You’re being a selfish bitch and I can’t even look at you right now.”
He regretted the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth but he was to caught up in the moment to even process, what he had just said.
Your sadness and guilt was with an instant turned into anger, “What did you just say?”
He didn’t answer.
“Shawn,” You hissed as he walked past you and into the kitchen, “Shawn.”
You followed him and accidently knocked an old vase over.
“What the hell was that for?” He yelled.
“Stop yelling,” you screamed, “I can’t take this anymore, Shawn.”
You paused for a second and you could feel his eyes burning into yours, “I didn’t want this to happen. I don’t want a child when you’re about to leave us. I don’t want this baby to grow up without its dad by its side,” you gestured, looking down at your stomach, “We can’t even have a conversation without yelling at each other, Shawn. I’m tired and hurt,” you cried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t bare the thought of telling you when you would be leaving the next day.”
It broke him. It broke him to see you in such a vulnerable state, knowing it was all his fault. His anger towards you disappeared, he couldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t fair to blame his mistakes on you.
He was angry with himself. He had let it come this far; he had let this happened and he could see you were falling apart. He could see the hurt in your eyes and the guilt was eating him up. He regretted it, he regretted it so much. You were the love of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without you and now he’d lost you. You were divorced and as much as he wanted you back, he knew that he couldn’t.
He couldn’t live with the guilt that he felt when he looked at you. You deserved someone who wouldn’t hurt you as he did. He wished he could be that person but he just couldn’t, not anymore. It was too late.
“I can’t do this, Shawn. Not without you,” you cried in defeat. You felt helpless and you knew, you’d lost him, “I can’t do this, Shawn. I can’t, not without you,” you repeated again, now sounding more broken than ever, “I love you so much but you hurt me, you hurt me so bad and it hurts so much.”
He could feel the tears in his eyes as he embraced you in his arms. You didn’t fight him; instead you melted into his arms, sobbing into the fabric of his shirt.
You weren’t ready to let him go.
“Shh, honey, shh. It will be ok, I promise,” he whispered, “I’ll always be here, no matter what,” he assured you, holding you tighter in his arms.
He could feel his heart break into pieces and for the first time, he didn’t know how it would be ok.
You were no longer Mrs. Mendes.
It had happened so fast; him confessing that he had been unfaithful, to the endless fights and, finally, the divorce. Though, telling your three-year-old daughter was the hardest part and it broke the both of you to see her with tears in her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling, promising to be a good girl as long as you stayed a family.
“Can we talk?” He asked, bringing you back from your thoughts, “Skylar is taking a nap.”
“Yes,” you sniffled, realising the tears in your eyes.
You laid the, now, signed divorce papers down on the table, turning around to face him. He looked pale, eyes dull from the endless fights. He was tired, but so was you.
“Can we try to discuss things without fighting, please?” He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, knowing fully well how it will end.
“I guess,” you mumbled.
You had been fighting for a week now, not getting closer to any solution as he would storm out of the house, leaving you behind, crying, and come home the next morning.
“It isn’t fair,” he started, “It isn’t fair that I can’t have Skylar every other week.”
“Nothing in this life is fair, Shawn. You’ve proven me that. I need her here with me. She is the only thing I got left and I’m not letting you take her away from me as well.”
“I need her, too. She is my daughter, too. Stop being so damn selfish. She is the only thing I’ve left as well,” he hissed, the anger inside him boiling up.
“Don’t you dare call me selfish, Shawn,” you hissed back at him, “You ruined this family, not me. You slept with that other woman, Shawn, not me. You’ve no right to call me selfish.”
You slammed the bedroom door behind you, having left the living room in tears with Shawn’s eyes following you, his hands in his hair in frustration.
You had lost faith. The promises you once made no longer existed.
They were all broken and it broke you as well.
“Mamma,” a little voice spoke. You quickly opened the door, letting Skylar in. Her hair was messy after her afternoon nap, her stuffed elephant was tucked under her small arm, as she yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her little hand.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled, “Was it a nice nap?”
You picked her up and adjusted her on your hip, placing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead.
“Yes,” she lisped, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand, “Mamma, sad?” She looked at you with her big brown, and sparkling, eyes, touching your warm cheeks with her small hands as a concerned expression spread across her face.
“Mumma is a little bit sad, sweetheart, but I’m okay now,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek, “I love you, baby,” you said.
“I love you, Mamma.”
You kissed her cheek, once again, and sat her down as she started to squirm in your arms, and as soon as her little legs touched the ground, she walked over to the nightstand.
“Mamma, look,” she squealed, standing on the tip of her toes as she reached for a white and purple stick, “Mamma, it’s purple,” she giggled, loving the purple colour. Your eyes widened as soon as you saw what she was reaching for on the nightstand, “Honey, give it to Mamma, please,” you begged.
“No, Daddy see,” she squealed in excitement, running out of the bedroom, leaving her stuffed elephant behind.
You quickly grabbed the elephant from the floor, hurrying after her, trying to catch her before she reached Shawn, but she had already reached him.
“Daddy, it’s purple,” she giggled as she climbed onto his lap to show him the purple stick, she was holding.
Shawn smiled at her excitement, a grin on his face as he gently took the purple stick from her little hand to get a closer look on the item she had shown him.
His grin on his face soon disappeared and his stomach tightened as he saw what it was.
He looked up as you rounded the corner to the living room, his eyes on yours, and he knew.
You were pregnant.
Holy shit, i'm-- PLS tell me there'll be a pt 2 of you have no right to be selfish aldjasjakfj
it’s comiiiiiing
Please tell me you’re going to do a part 2 to the You’ve no right to call me selfish imagine pleaseeeeeee😬😬😬😬😬
part two is comiiiiing
You were no longer Mrs. Mendes.
It had happened so fast; him confessing that he had been unfaithful, to the endless fights and, finally, the divorce. Though, telling your three-year-old daughter was the hardest part and it broke the both of you to see her with tears in her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling, promising to be a good girl as long as you stayed a family.
“Can we talk?” He asked, bringing you back from your thoughts, “Skylar is taking a nap.”
“Yes,” you sniffled, realising the tears in your eyes.
You laid the, now, signed divorce papers down on the table, turning around to face him. He looked pale, eyes dull from the endless fights. He was tired, but so was you.
“Can we try to discuss things without fighting, please?” He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, knowing fully well how it will end.
“I guess,” you mumbled.
You had been fighting for a week now, not getting closer to any solution as he would storm out of the house, leaving you behind, crying, and come home the next morning.
“It isn’t fair,” he started, “It isn’t fair that I can’t have Skylar every other week.”
“Nothing in this life is fair, Shawn. You’ve proven me that. I need her here with me. She is the only thing I got left and I’m not letting you take her away from me as well.”
“I need her, too. She is my daughter, too. Stop being so damn selfish. She is the only thing I’ve left as well,” he hissed, the anger inside him boiling up.
“Don’t you dare call me selfish, Shawn,” you hissed back at him, “You ruined this family, not me. You slept with that other woman, Shawn, not me. You’ve no right to call me selfish.”
You slammed the bedroom door behind you, having left the living room in tears with Shawn’s eyes following you, his hands in his hair in frustration.
You had lost faith. The promises you once made no longer existed.
They were all broken and it broke you as well.
“Mamma,” a little voice spoke. You quickly opened the door, letting Skylar in. Her hair was messy after her afternoon nap, her stuffed elephant was tucked under her small arm, as she yawned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her little hand.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled, “Was it a nice nap?”
You picked her up and adjusted her on your hip, placing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead.
“Yes,” she lisped, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand, “Mamma, sad?” She looked at you with her big brown, and sparkling, eyes, touching your warm cheeks with her small hands as a concerned expression spread across her face.
“Mumma is a little bit sad, sweetheart, but I’m okay now,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek, “I love you, baby,” you said.
“I love you, Mamma.”
You kissed her cheek, once again, and sat her down as she started to squirm in your arms, and as soon as her little legs touched the ground, she walked over to the nightstand.
“Mamma, look,” she squealed, standing on the tip of her toes as she reached for a white and purple stick, “Mamma, it’s purple,” she giggled, loving the purple colour. Your eyes widened as soon as you saw what she was reaching for on the nightstand, “Honey, give it to Mamma, please,” you begged.
“No, Daddy see,” she squealed in excitement, running out of the bedroom, leaving her stuffed elephant behind.
You quickly grabbed the elephant from the floor, hurrying after her, trying to catch her before she reached Shawn, but she had already reached him.
“Daddy, it’s purple,” she giggled as she climbed onto his lap to show him the purple stick, she was holding.
Shawn smiled at her excitement, a grin on his face as he gently took the purple stick from her little hand to get a closer look on the item she had shown him.
His grin on his face soon disappeared and his stomach tightened as he saw what it was.
He looked up as you rounded the corner to the living room, his eyes on yours, and he knew.
You were pregnant.
“You’re cancelling again?” You asked in disappointment. Your eyes were sad and your heart aching. This was the fifth night in a row where he had to cancel your dinner plans.
“I’m so sorry, honey. You know how important this is to me,” he said.
He could feel how the guilt was eating him up.
“It’s okay. I understand,” you whispered, your eyes not meeting his, “I’ll just go to bed. Goodnight, Shawn,” you spoke in a voice so soft and so fragile that it made his heart break. He had hurt you; he had hurt you badly.
All he wanted was to embrace you, kiss you, make love to you and apologize for being the worst boyfriend but he just watched you disappear into your shared bedroom.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Honey, can we please talk for a minuet?” He asked, stepping into your bedroom.
You were sitting on your side of the bed, your back against him, wearing one of his old hoodies; it hung lose around your body, reaching down to your thighs and your hair was in a ponytail.
“There’s really not much to talk about, Shawn,” you said, closing your eyes.
You didn’t want to cry in front of him.
“Please, babe. I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologized, stepping closer to the bed, your back still against him; silence now filled the room.
“Babe, please, just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say, Shawn? You keep cancelling all the time. It’s not me, it’s you.”
“I know, I know. I just want you to talk to me. I miss you,” he sighed, “Just tell me how I can fix this.”
“I shouldn’t be the one to tell, Shawn. I’m tired. I’m so tired and hurt,” you whispered, “I know how important this is to you but I’m important too, okay. You can’t just forget about me and leave me here,” you explained, “It doesn’t work like that,” you were now facing him, tears rolling down your cheeks and it made his heart, once again, break. He leaned over to reach you; he needed you in his arms. He needed to hold you, to soothe you, to tell you that everything was going to be okay but when he carefully touched your cheek to wipe away your tears, you flinched away.
“Don’t push me away. Please, just let me hold you,” he pleaded, his voice sounding desperate, “Let me make things up to you.”
“I’m tired, Shawn,” you sniffled, “Can you, please, sleep on the couch tonight?”
“Honey, please. Don’t do this. We can fix this, okay? I’m so fucking sorry, babe,” he apologized, trying to reach you again.
“Shawn, don’t,” you said, your voice sounding small as you held up your hand as a sign for him to stop, “Please, just do as I ask,” you begged and looked up at him with such sad eyes.
“Okay, I guess I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he said in defeat. He grabbed his pillow and duvet, tucking it under his arm before leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you.”
“I know,“ you whispered.
“Honey, I’m sure he’s a lovely boy,” you said and turned around from the stove where a pot full of tomato sauce was boiling, almost ready to be served for tonight’s special dinner.
“Babe, he’s two years older than her,” he whined, “And not to mention, he has his whole arm tattooed,” he pointed out, his arms now placed around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
“I don’t like him,” he pouted.
“Shawn, you haven’t even met him yet. I’m sure he’s a decent boy. Give him a chance before you judge him, okay?” He made a grumbling sound.
“Okay, but only because I love you and our daughter very much.”
“Good. I love you too,” you smiled as you felt his lips against yours. His tongue tracing your bottom lip and his hands gently placed on your bum, giving it a light squeeze before he pulled away, making you whine. He smirked and then placed his lips onto yours one last time before working his way down to your neck, gently sucking on your delicate warm skin, leaving a love bite behind.
“Shawn,” you moaned, closing your eyes.
“Mmm baby,” he hummed against your skin as he easily found your sweet spot, making another moan fell from your lips.
“Mum, dad?” A very familiar voice sounded from the hallway, making your heads turn to reveal your sixteen-year-old daughter and her new boyfriend standing in the door.
“Hi sweetheart,” you cupped her rosy cheeks in your hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Hi momma. This is Charles, my boyfriend,” she smiled proudly. He was a very handsome young man; tall, almost as tall as Shawn with light brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing black jeans with a grey shirt that showed his muscular body.
“Hi Mrs. Mendes. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he polity said, holding is hand out which you gladly accepted, giving it a light shake.
“Hi Charles. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too. Please, call me by my name,” you warmly smiled.
“This is my husband, Shawn,” you gestured towards Shawn who was standing behind you, his arms resting on your lower stomach.
“Hi Mr. Mendes. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too.”
“You too, Charles. I hope you’ll take good care of my daughter,” He asked with a firm voice, still a little unsure of the young man in front of him who was holding your daughter’s hand.
“Of course, sir. It’s my job to protect and love her with all I have,” he answered truthfully, earning a giggle from her as he kissed her cheek.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
A/N: This is inspired by spoken words. This was originally a Shawn Mendes blurb, I wrote, but I decided to also to post it as Harry (as Harry is still my number one man). I hope you like it.
Singing, for me, has always been my way to express myself and to show my fans who, Harry Styles really is. Singing is what I’m meant to do and until seven years ago, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. You’d changed my life, turned it upside down. The first time I saw you, I knew you were something special. I knew, I needed to get to know you. You were beautiful, breathtaking even. The way you spoke, using your hands and with the big smile on your face was fascinating. You fascinated me - and introducing myself to you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You make me so proud and I’m honored to become your husband.
Thank you for everything, you’ve given me.
I love you more than words can describe and my love for you will never die.
“Daddy, daddy!” Yelled a small voice that belongs to our beautiful four-year-old daughter, Alba. I put my vow into my journal and closed it, giving our little monkey my full attention.
“What’s up, monkey?” She stopped right in front of me, her small hands on her hips, “Momma needs help, daddy, come come,” she lisped, taking my hand in hers as she lead the way out to the driveway. I was greeted with the sight of you, my soon to be wife, with two grocery bags placed on the ground beside you as you took the third out of the car. Alba quickly ran over to you, offering her help, taking a small bag in her arms.
“Did you get daddy, sweetie?” You asked Alba as she grinned back at you, nodding.
“I’m right here, babe,” I announced, “Do you want me to take Toby?”
“Yes please, thanks honey,” you thanked and kissed my cheek before taking the grocery bag of the ground. You managed to balance all three bags and walked into the house. I turned around and walked towards the car where our two-year-old was sound asleep. I unbuckled him from the car seat and lifted him up to my hip. I kissed his hair, his head rested on my shoulder, still sleeping. I closed the door, walking into the house and straight to his bedroom where I put him down in his crib. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, tucking a blanket around his small body before walking downstairs. I could hear yours and Alba’s voice coming from the kitchen. I made my way to the kitchen, leaning myself up against the fridge as I was watching my two girls.
“Careful baby, it’s very hot,” you said as you gave a small cup with hot chocolate to Alba.
“Okay,” she lifted the cup up to her mouth, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate.
“It’s it good?” You asked and poured yourself a cup, too.
“What are you girls up to?” I interrupted, smiling at you.
“Me and momma are drinking hot chocolate and then momma will tell me a story, right momma?” She said, looking up at you.
“Yes, we are sweetie and no are boys allowed,” you teased, smirking at me. I gave you a playful look.
“Is that so?” I laughed.
“Yeah, you can’t come daddy. Come momma, we need to go now,” Alba said with the small cup still in her hands as she made her way to couch in the living room. You followed her, but stopped when you reached me.
“I love you, mister,” you pressed your soft pink lips onto mine, kissing me.
“I love you too, so much, my missus,” I leaned down to kiss you again before you made her way into the living room where Alba was sitting waiting for you to tell her one of your many poetries. To her, it was stories that she loves to hear. She loves them just as much as when I tell her bedtime stories about princesses, when she sees me perform or when I sing her lullabies before she falls asleep at night.
The only difference between you and I is that while I sing, you speak.
