Going And Going

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

[cherrycolas-things]

— ❦ —

*. she/her ´ˎ˗ ßí * 23 :/

•Scorpio/introvert•

— ❦ —

➳ 5SOS•Harry Styles•Louis Tomlinson•Niall Horan•1D•Stranger Things•Taylor Swift ➳

*masterlist I do a lot of fic recommendations!!

✎ᝰ I’m always here to talk about anything and we can be friends just message me :)

[tygerbug]

This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune

[loveandlessons]

not to be annoying or anything but,🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️ 🎃🦇🍂👻🕸️

[cheap-pack-of-cigarettes]

Ive had this saved in my phone since April

[abigail]

how life feels when you go alone to see a fun movie and when you leave the cinema the sun is still out

[abigail]

how life feels when you go alone to see a movie that really just hit you deeper than expected and resonated with you in some kind of way and when you leave the cinema the sun has just set

[swiftmendeshoran]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

[grunisment]

Day

[sleepingsirian]

[cyrus-thenotsogreat]

people without any whimsy scare me. why are you like that. where are your trinkets.

[only-cat-memes]

[starkeyszn]

🍸 ⌇meeting golden retriever!rafe for the first time 𓂃 ⸝⸝

the club was packed, humid, and too loud for someone like you. someone who preferred quiet corners and matcha. your friends had begged you to come out tonight, with some resisting, and offers of free drinks, you were convinced.

you were clutching a glass of something orange and fizzy, a cherry placed on the rim of the glass.

until he spotted you from afar. rafe cameron. his eyes locking into yours.

you looked away—an instinct, not used to the attention of being on you.

he was making his way over—oh shit! he was walking over to you! wearing that precious smile, that made you wonder if he even knew how to frown.

“hey.” he breathed, sounding like he’d be waiting to speak to you all night. “uhm—i just saw you sitting here, and i thought you would like some company! not in a creepy way! just—i’m rafe!” he rambled.

you blinked, surprised by his tone, that his tone seemed genuine, not cocky, not pushy, just warm.

“i’m okay—” you smiled gently.

he tried to mask how his smile dropped, immediately feeling awkward, his palms going sweaty.

“i’ll just stand here for a second—” his eyes diverted to your drink, “is that a shirley temple?”

your hands were wrapped around the glass as you looked down, “yeah it is.”

“i love the cherries on them.” he grinned, “my sister says it’s my ‘kid at heart’ drink.”

you giggled, and that was his in.

he slipped himself in the booth, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

you nearly talked for 2 hours—the music blending into the background as the both of you spoke, the conversation flowing easily. he asked your favourite hobbies—and if you liked dogs, only because he had one himself.

when you admitted you were nervous in crowds, he just nodded. “oh no, don’t worry—that’s cool. i get nervous in, like, libraries. all that silence? intimidating as hell.”

you smiled, finally feeling like you met someone who understood you, and when he noticed your smile he looked like he’d won the lottery.

eventually, he offered his hand — palm up, open, with no pressure behind it. “come dance with me. just one, i promise I’ll embarrass myself first.”

you hesitated, which he immediately noticed. you watched him, spin around, jumping around, “what are you doing?” you giggled.

“showing you that it’s okay, and nobody cares.”

your heart melted inside, nobody has done this for you, you stood up, joining him on the dance floor. “that’s the spirit!” he cheered, gently taking your hand and spinning you around.

“you haven’t asked me my name.”

“well what’s your name, pretty girl?”

you replied with your name, he repeated it, “suits you.”

“i’m rafe—rafe, cameron.” he added, making you smile at the addition of his last name.

and that’s how it started, not with some hookup but with soft laughter, and a boy who shined so bright you couldn’t help but lean towards him.

[peppermintsticks]

“Hot and bothered” in the sense that it is 90 degrees out and I am extremely annoyed

[stillgotscars]

cardigan - taylor swift

[lovertm]

pins by Abprallen

[hsjazebel]

Toothpaste kisses

Summary: Just a sleepy morning, a toothbrush, and the kind of love that feels like home

A/n: I saw this photo and immediately had to write something about it — it just felt so soft and real

Wordcount: 541

———

The bathroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan and the occasional rustle of fabric. Morning light spilled in through the window, pale and sleepy, washing everything in gold. Harry stood in front of the mirror with a toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth, his hair tousled from sleep and his shirt wrinkled from where he’d curled up in bed just twenty minutes earlier.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a small smile tugging at her lips. There was something endlessly charming about the way he looked in moments like this—completely unbothered, soft around the edges, and totally himself.

She reached for her phone, raising it with a quiet chuckle. “You look like a kid who got caught playing pirate in the bathroom,” she said gently.

Harry’s eyes flicked toward the mirror, catching hers in the reflection. He gave a playful squint but didn’t move, continuing to brush as if this was just part of their usual dance. Which, in a way, it was.

Without asking for permission, Y/N snapped the photo.

The moment froze: Harry standing in front of the mirror, sleep still in his eyes, toothbrush angled between his lips, her arm draped just barely into the frame holding the phone. It was the kind of moment you never really plan, but it sticks with you—simple, real, and filled with quiet affection.

Harry mumbled something incomprehensible with the toothbrush still between his teeth, narrowing his eyes like he was pretending to be annoyed.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re not loving the attention,” Y/N said, biting back a laugh as she set the phone down on the counter. “You’re literally the definition of ‘soft boyfriend morning aesthetic.’ Pinterest is going to eat this up.”

He finally pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and grinned, foam still lingering in the corner of his lips. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll assume it’s a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, stepping closer to him. “You’re very on-brand this morning.”

Without a word, Harry turned slightly, enough to let her slip her arms around his waist, resting her head gently against his chest. His shirt smelled like sleep and minty toothpaste, and he was warm in that way people only are first thing in the morning.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and mumbled, “Mornings are better with you.”

Y/N smiled, eyes closed. “Even better than your oat milk lattes?”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, mock offense in his eyes. “Let’s not say things we can’t take back.”

She laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll make the coffee while you finish pretending to brush your teeth.”

“I do brush properly!” he called after her as she slipped out of the bathroom, already giggling down the hallway.

Left alone, Harry looked at himself in the mirror again and shook his head with a smile. His hair was wild, his eyes were still tired, and he had toothpaste on his lip—but she looked at him like he hung the stars anyway.

And honestly, in quiet moments like this, brushing his teeth while the person he loved made coffee just down the hall—he believed he might have.

[sushirrrry]

clean || harry styles x you one-shot.

saw this picture, had to write something immediately — hot off the press, just for you hehe enjoy <3

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re brushing your teeth beside him again.

It’s not the first time that you've done that—far from it, but something about this particular night makes the moment feel worthy of being remembered.

Harry’s standing next to you in the tiny bathroom of your rental villa, his skin still golden from the sun and his hair wild with salt and humidity; his curls starting to emerge at the root from the exposure to the heat.

He’s got a toothbrush dangling from his lips, foam threatening to escape the corners of his mouth as he tries not to smile too much at himself in the mirror. You hold your phone up, capturing the scene out of instinct.

Click.

He playfully rolls his eyes when the shutter sound goes off.

“Hope you’re not sending that to anyone. That’s top-tier blackmail, that is.”

You glance at the screen. The photo’s perfect; he's photogenic in a way that you merely can't describe.

His perfectly fitting t-shirt is rumpled from where he threw it on after his shower, damp at the collar, and a little crooked on one side. The linen pants sitting around his hips are low and loose, and there’s something sweetly disheveled about all of it as you prepare for dinner together.

“I’ll sell it to the press,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep a straight face as you rinse your mouth.

He chuckles, swiping at a bit of toothpaste foam with the back of his hand from it, then leaning in just enough to nudge your arm. “Can’t take me anywhere.”

“You’re in your own house.”

“Exactly. Even worse.”

You both laugh, and it’s a warm sound. Familiar, the happiness that is bursting around the small, tiled bathroom. It smells like mint and coconut conditioner and leftover sea breeze, like the beach never really left your skin even though you rinsed it off.

The villa had been a last-minute decision—his idea, of course. He’d shown you the listing one rainy Thursday in London, scrolling through photos of wide windows, string lights, and hammocks that swung over white sand.

“Let’s disappear for a week,” he’d said, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “No work, no stress. Just you, me, and the ocean.”

You’d said yes because saying no to Harry was almost impossible. And now, four days in, your skin is freckled and your hair’s gone a bit wild and you haven’t worn real clothes since Tuesday. Only bikinis and linen shirts that you kept getting mixed with his in your pile of clothes that surrounded your suitcases.

He spits into the sink, grimacing dramatically— he was known for dramatics. "I think I got sand in my molars.”

You laugh, wiping your mouth with a towel. “Is that even possible?”

“Dunno. But everything tastes like sunscreen and fish and chips.”

You lean your hip against the counter, tilting your head as you watch him rinse. His profile’s soft in the low light; you notice that his nose is slightly sun-kissed, jaw shadowed with a bit of stubble from the lack of shaving the last few days.

There’s a tiny patch of peeling skin at the tip of his ear from where he’d missed with the sunscreen, and his forearm is still faintly striped from the crocheted bracelets he’d refused to take off in the water.

He catches you staring and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you murmur, pouting out your lip as you give him eyes that seem to gleam in his presence. “Just… you.”

That earns you a lopsided grin and a little shake of his head. The dimple expresses itself and makes you feel warmer than usual. He steps closer, resting his wet toothbrush on the side of the sink.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he teases, voice low and teasing and full of cheekiness. “All brown and beachy. Bit feral.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re not feral.”

“I’m practically wild.” He leans in until his forehead brushes yours, his voice nothing more than a whisper now, hands pressed to your waist that practically burn. “You should see what happens when I run out of moisturizer— I'm an animal.”

You snort, but you don’t pull away. You stay pressed forehead to forehead, his breath warm and minty and his hands, a bit damp from rinsing. sliding over your hips in that easy, familiar way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Mm,” he hums, tilting his head slightly. “Got all soft on me these last few days. Used to take you ages to relax.”

“You’re imagining that.” You press your hands to his chest, leaning back a bit in his arms.

Harry shakes his head. "I’m not. First day here you still checked your emails on the beach.”

“Once.” You argue.

“Twice.”

You roll your eyes, "Okay, twice.”

He grins in triumph, then brushes a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Now look at you. Barefoot. Sun-drunk. Smiling in your sleep," Harry cocks his head, "All those cheeky bikini bottoms you're flaunting are really turning you into someone else."

You pull back a little to look at him properly. “That’s ‘cause I have good company.”

Harry’s smile softens at that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, dramatic again, and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Gonna be hard to leave.”

“I know.”

Neither of you say anything for a moment. The quiet isn’t heavy—it’s full, though. The kind of silence that stretches and wraps around you like warm sheets, thick with shared memories of late-night swims, sand between your toes, and early-morning pancakes eaten straight from the pan because neither of you could find a plate in the villa.

“I took a picture,” you say after a while.

“I know. Saw you.”

“Want me to send it to you?”

He perks up. “Only if you caption it with something flattering. Like, ‘my gorgeous man brushing his teeth with the grace of a tanned Grecian god.’”

“More like, ‘Bigfoot sighting.’”

He gasps, mock-hurt as he grasps at his chest. “Cruel. After everything I’ve done for you today—carried your beach tote, bought you three different kinds of ice cream, let you win at Uno—”

“You didn’t let me win.” You fight back, shaking your head.

Harry smirks, “I might’ve— could've played two Draw Fours in a row, but I spared you."

You both grin again, loving the ease of the moment. Then he grabs your phone, taps around, and pulls up the photo. His eyes linger on it longer than you expect.

“You really like it?” you ask, craning your neck to look.

He nods, smiling down at it. "Yeah. Looks like us.”

You step behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. His skin is still warm from the shower, his muscles relaxed under your hold.

The familiarity of the muscles makes your stomach twist at all the time spent between the sheets this weekend alone .

“You make me feel like this could be easy,” you say quietly, wondering if he can hear you properly.

He twists slightly to glance at you. “What d’you mean?”

“Like all of it. Loving someone, living with someone. You make it feel… calm. I used to think I wasn’t the kind of person who could do that."

You didn't know you could be loved this way, which makes it harder for him to accept your self-doubt. But you start to see how easy it is, and everything becomes... different.

His expression shifts—soft, sincere. “That’s ‘cause no one’s done it right yet. ‘Til me.”

You chuckle, kissing between his shoulder blades. “So humble.”

He turns, arms slipping around you now, pressing you to his chest as he leans against the bathroom counter.

"I’m serious,” he says, kissing your hair. “Don’t care how messy it gets. I want all of it.”

“Even the part where I use your towel without asking and get it all wet?”

He groans, still smiling beneath it. “You do that again and I’ll break up with you on the spot.”

You grin into his shoulder. “That’s fair.”

Another beat of silence. This time, it’s him who breaks it.

“Stay,” he says.

You hum into his chest, knowing you're not moving for a moment.

“I am staying.”

There's a pause before you feel him shake his head.

“No, I mean… after. When we go back. Don’t go to your place. Just come to mine. Bring your stupid frog mug collection and your sexy little bathrobe and take over my bathroom counter with your serums and your tangled necklaces and just… stay.”

Your heart trips a little at his confession, your eyes leaning up to meet his.

“You mean that?” you whisper, a bit confused by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

He pulls back enough to look you in the eye, the cheeky grin faded into something gentler. “I do. I want all the days with you. All the brushing teeth and stealing towels and waking up tangled up and going to sleep to your snoring—”

“I don’t snore.”

“Sure.” He bites his lip.

You kiss him before he can say more, pressing your smile into his mouth. And he kisses you back like he’s already won, like it was always going to be you.

Later, you’ll crawl into bed with your legs still cool from the evening walk on the beach to grab sharks teeth, and his arms pulling you close before you’ve even settled. You’ll fall asleep with the hum of ocean waves in the distance and his breath steady at the back of your neck as you lay tangled in between his tanned limbs and skin.

But for now, you stand in the bathroom, his toothpaste-smeared grin fading into something real, and think: this is it.

This is love. Sun-kissed with hints of mint and ocean breeze.

[lestatfag]

STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]