Hello everyone. Soooo sorry for being MIA. I was logged out of my account for nearly three months and I JUST NOW logged back in! It's good to be back!!
I will be doing requests now and I have to admit... a lot of things have changed and I even wrote a one shot called The Contract that you all might love. I will be using this time to respond to comments, asks and etc, and I am once again so very sorry I was gone for so long. I was devastated when I thought I had lost this account forever, but now that I have it back, I will be posting new blurbs!!
I love you all so much and I am deeply grateful for your endless dedication and devotion to this blog. :*
Warnings: None. :) Just a turtle farting his brains out and the fact you might laugh your brains out on this one.
Prompt: You're over at Harry's loft... Sir Shelldon farts so loud, it nearly shakes the ground. Harry's appalled, you're on your knees laughing and Sir Shelldon is smug af.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
(This just came to me at night lol, this made me laugh so hard!!)
You donโt hear it at first. You feel it.
A subtle vibration through the hardwood floor, like a truck passing outside or a washing machine hitting its spin cycle. Except you donโt own a washing machine, and the street outside is dead quiet.
Youโre sitting cross-legged on the rug, flipping through one of Harryโs sketchbooks while heโs across the room, crouched beside Sir Shelldonโs terrarium, narrating his turtleโs morning routine like a nature documentary.
โAnd now,โ Harry murmurs, voice soft and reverent, โwe observe the elusive Sir Shelldon emerging from his mossy cavernโฆ a brave ladโฆ a noble ladโฆ a lad who slept for precisely nine hours and forty-two minutes, because he respects his circadian rhythmโฆโ
You smile without looking up. โYou know he canโt understand you.โ
Harry gasps like youโve insulted his religion. โHe understands everything.โ
Sir Shelldon, for his part, blinks slowly. Possibly in agreement. Possibly because heโs a turtle. Harry beams at him anyway. โSee? Heโs listening.โ
Youโre about to tease him again when the floor trembles a second time. You freeze. Harry freezes.
Sir Shelldon does not freeze. Sir Shelldonโฆ prepares. He shifts his little turtle legs. He lifts his shell a millimeter. His eyes narrow with the focus of a man about to commit a crime.
And thenโBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT.
It is not a fart. It is a statement. It is a sonic event. It is the kind of sound that makes you instinctively check the ceiling for structural damage.
Harryโs mouth falls open. His curls sway from the shockwave. His soul leaves his body, floats to the ceiling, looks down, and whispers, no way.
You choke on a laugh. โWas thatโ?โ
Harry lifts a trembling finger. โDonโt. Say. Anything.โ
Sir Shelldon, having unleashed his truth upon the world, looks deeply satisfied. He stretches his neck out like a smug little king surveying his kingdom.
Harry blinks rapidly, still processing. โIโฆ I didnโt know turtles couldโ I mean, I knew they had digestive systems, obviously, butโ that wasโ that wasโโ
โImpressive?โ you offer.
Harry whips around, scandalized. โThat was indecent.โ
Sir Shelldon blinks again. Slowly. Mockingly.
Harry clutches his chest. โHe did it on purpose.โ
You snort. โHeโs a turtle, babe. I donโt think heโs plotting.โ
Harry narrows his eyes at his beloved reptile. โHe plots. Heโs always plotting. Look at him. Heโs got that face.โ
Sir Shelldonโs face is the same as always: vaguely judgmental, vaguely sleepy, vaguely ancient. But Harry is convinced. He stands, dusts off his knees, and points sternly into the terrarium. โSir Shelldon. That was rude.โ
Sir Shelldon does not care.
Harryโs voice rises, soft but firm, like a kindergarten teacher scolding a child for biting someone. โWe do not unleashโ whatever that wasโ without warning. We do not weaponize our bodies. We do not terrorize the people we love.โ
Youโre laughing so hard you have to put the sketchbook down.
Harry turns to you, betrayed. โDonโt encourage him.โ
โIโm not encouraging him,โ you wheeze. โIโm justโ Iโm just impressed he didnโt crack the glass.โ
Harryโs eyes widen. He rushes to inspect the terrarium. โOh my god. What if he did? What if he shattered something internally? What if that was a cry for help? What if heโs sick?โ
You rub your forehead. โHarry. He farted.โ
Harry ignores you completely, scooping Sir Shelldon up with both hands like a fragile heirloom. โMy sweet boy. My brave boy. Did your tummy hurt? Was that a distress signal? Blink twice if youโre in pain.โ
Sir Shelldon blinks once.
Harry gasps. โHeโs in pain.โ
You pinch the bridge of your nose. โHarryโโ
โNo, no, donโt try to downplay this. I know my son. I know his tells. That was a pain blink.โ
โIt was a normal blink.โ
Harry shakes his head, curls bouncing. โNo. No, no, no. That was a suffering blink.โ
Sir Shelldon blinks again.
Harry nearly faints. โOh god. Heโs deteriorating.โ
You stand, walk over, and gently pry the turtle from his hands. โHeโs fine. Heโs dramatic. Like someone else I know.โ
Harry gasps again, hand to chest. โAre you calling my son dramatic?โ
โIโm calling you dramatic.โ
He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Sir Shelldon chooses that exact moment to release a second, smaller, but still deeply confident fart.
Pffft.
Harry screams. You drop to your knees laughing. Sir Shelldon looks pleased with himself.
Harry spends the next hour Googling โturtle gastrointestinal emergencies,โ โis my turtle dying,โ and โcan turtles fart loud enough to cause concern.โ You spend the next hour taking his phone away repeatedly.
โHeโs fine,โ you keep saying.
โYou donโt know that,โ Harry keeps insisting.
โHeโs literally eating lettuce right now.โ
โThat could be a stress response.โ
โHeโs basking under his heat lamp.โ
โHe could be trying to regulate his internal organs.โ
โHeโs asleep.โ
โHe could be slipping into a coma.โ
You stare at him. โHarry. Heโs snoring.โ
Harryโs eyes fill with tears. โComa snores.โ
You put a hand on his cheek. โBaby. Heโs okay.โ
Harry leans into your touch, but his eyes stay glued to Sir Shelldon. โHe farted so loud. What if something ruptured.โ
โNothing ruptured.โ
โYou donโt know that.โ
โI do. Because he just did it again.โ
Sir Shelldon, indeed, lets out a third, tiny, almost polite little toot. Harry looks like heโs going to pass out.
Eventually, you sit Harry down on the couch.
โOkay,โ you say gently. โWe need to talk.โ
Harry sniffles. โAbout his gastrointestinal decline?โ
โNo. About your emotional decline.โ
Harry blinks. โMy what.โ
โYouโre spiraling.โ
โIโm not spiraling.โ
โYouโre spiraling so hard youโre creating wind.โ
Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Sir Shelldon farts again from across the room. Harry flinches like heโs been shot.
You take his hands. โHarry. Listen to me. Turtles fart. Itโs normal. Itโs healthy. It means his digestion is working.โ
Harryโs eyes widen. โHealthy?โ
โYes.โ
โLikeโฆ good?โ
โYes.โ
โLikeโฆ heโs thriving?โ
โYes.โ
Harry looks over at Sir Shelldon, who is now proudly standing on a rock like a war general surveying a battlefield. Harryโs face softens. โMy strong boy.โ
You nod. โYour very strong, very gassy boy.โ
Harry wipes his eyes. โIโm so proud of him.โ
You squeeze his hands. โI know.โ
He sniffles again. โI thought he was dying.โ
โI thought he was sending me a final message.โ
โI thought he was saying goodbye.โ
Sir Shelldon farts again. Harry beams. โHeโs saying hello.โ
Later that night, youโre brushing your teeth when Harry appears in the doorway, looking troubled.
You spit. โWhatโs wrong now.โ
He hesitates. โI thinkโฆ Sir Shelldon is intimidated by you.โ
You stare at him. โBecause he farted?โ
โNo. Because he farted at you.โ
You blink. โHarry. He didnโtโโ
โHe did. He aimed it. He projected it. He weaponized it. That was a territorial display.โ
You put your toothbrush down. โHarry. Heโs a turtle.โ
Harry shakes his head. โHeโs a man.โ
You laugh. โHeโs a reptile.โ
โHeโs a reptile man.โ
You rub your temples. โHarryโโ
โHeโs threatened by you.โ
โHeโs not.โ
โHe is.โ
You sigh. โWhy would he be threatened by me.โ
Harry looks at you with devastating sincerity. โBecause I love you.โ
You freeze.
Harry swallows. โAnd he knows it.โ
You soften. โHarryโฆโ
โHeโs used to being my number one. My little guy. My whole world. And now youโre here. And heโs adjusting. And sometimes adjusting meansโฆ farting.โ
You try not to laugh. โYou think heโs jealous.โ
Harry nods gravely. โDeeply.โ
You step closer, wrap your arms around his waist. โThen weโll help him adjust.โ
Harry melts into you. โYouโd do that?โ
โOf course.โ
โFor him?โ
โFor you.โ
Harry kisses your forehead, soft and grateful. โYouโre the best.โ
Sir Shelldon farts from the living room. Harry beams. โHeโs warming up to you.โ
The next morning, Harry sets up what he calls a โbonding circle.โ It is, in reality, three pillows on the floor arranged around Sir Shelldon, who is sitting in the middle like a tiny, judgmental emperor.
Harry gestures for you to sit. โWeโre going to build trust.โ
You sit. Harry sits. Sir Shelldon stares.
Harry clears his throat. โSir Shelldon. This is my partner. They are kind. They are gentle. They are not here to steal your place in my heart.โ
Sir Shelldon blinks.
Harry continues. โThey love you. They respect you. They admire your strength.โ
You nod solemnly. โVery strong.โ
Sir Shelldon shifts slightly. Harry gasps. โHeโs opening up.โ
Sir Shelldon lifts his back leg. Harryโs eyes widen. โOh god. Oh god. Heโs going toโโ
PFFFT.
Harry claps his hands. โHe accepts you.โ
You stare at him. โHarry. He just farted on me.โ
Harry wipes a tear. โHeโs welcoming you into the family.โ
You groan. โHarryโโ
Harry pulls you into a hug, rocking you gently. โShh. Donโt ruin this. This is a sacred moment.โ
Sir Shelldon farts again. Harry beams. โHe loves you.โ
By the end of the week, Sir Shelldon has farted on you, near you, and while making direct eye contact with you. Harry has interpreted every single one as affection, trust, and a sign of deepening family unity.
Youโve given up trying to argue. Harry is glowing. Sir Shelldon is thriving. And youโฆ well, youโve accepted your fate.
You are dating a man. And his turtle. And his turtleโs digestive system.
And honestly? You wouldnโt change a thing.
Because every time Sir Shelldon lets one rip, Harry looks at him with such pure, ridiculous, overwhelming love that your heart squeezes. And every time Harry looks at you with that same love, you realize something:
Youโre not the third wheel. Youโre part of the chaos. Part of the family. Part of the fart-powered emotional ecosystem that is Harry and Sir Shelldon.
Warnings: Harry getting his inner Real Housewife on!!!
Prompt: Harry is polite.... until pushed.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Youโve known Harry for years. Youโve dated him for two. Youโve lived with him for one. And in all that time, youโve learned one universal truth:
Harry Styles does not have a bitch bone in his body.
He is incapable of pettiness. He is allergic to drama. He is constitutionally unable to clap back.
Youโve seen him get cut off in traffic and respond with, โHope they get where theyโre goinโ safely.โ Youโve seen someone steal his parking spot and he said, โMaybe they needed it more.โ Youโve seen a man spill coffee on him and Harry apologized.
He is, in short, a golden retriever in human form.
Until today. Until Madame Zena.
Youโre at a fashion event โ one of those pretentious, avantโgarde, โis this art or a tax writeโoff?โ types of shows. Harryโs been invited to meet Madame Zena, a designer known for her dramatic capes, her hatred of joy, and her ability to make grown men cry.
She sweeps into the room like a bat that learned couture. Her hair is a silver tower. Her lipstick is the color of fresh blood. Her heels could kill a man. She looks at Harry like heโs a stain on her carpet.
โAh,โ she says, voice dripping disdain. โThe pop star.โ
Harry smiles politely. โHiya. Lovely to meetโโ
She lifts a hand. โNo need for pleasantries. I know who you are.โ
You blink. Harry blinks.
She circles him like a shark. โYou areโฆ how do they sayโฆ cute.โ Harryโs smile falters. Youโve never seen that happen. โYou dress like a child who raided his grandmotherโs attic,โ she continues.
Harryโs jaw drops.
โAnd your tattoosโฆโ She waves a dismissive hand. โThey look like doodles from a bored schoolboy.โ
Harry inhales sharply. You swear you hear something crack inside him.
Harry straightens. His shoulders roll back. His eyes narrow. Youโve never seen this expression on him before โ itโs like watching a Disney prince discover he has a villain arc.
โRight,โ he says slowly. โOkay.โ
Madame Zena smirks. โDid I offend you?โ
Harry tilts his head. โNo, no. Just realizinโ somethinโ.โ
โAnd what is that?โ
โThat youโre rude.โ
You choke. Madame Zenaโs eyes widen. โExcuse me?โ
Harry crosses his arms. โYou heard me. Youโre rude. And not even in an interestinโ way. Justโฆ gardenโvariety rude.โ
You stare at him. Who is this man? Where did he come from? Is thisโฆ is this Harryโs bitch bone emerging from the depths like a longโdormant volcano?
Madame Zena scoffs. โI am honest.โ
โNo,โ Harry says, โyouโre mean.โ
She gasps like he slapped her with a white glove.
Madame Zena steps closer. โYou dare insult me?โ
Harry steps closer too. โYou insulted me first.โ
You look around for cameras because this is Bravo TV energy.
She sneers. โYou are sensitive.โ
Harry shrugs. โAnd youโre pressed.โ
You slap a hand over your mouth. Madame Zena sputters. โPressed?!โ
โPressed,โ Harry repeats. โWrinkled. Crinkled. Crispy. Pick whichever one fits.โ
You are witnessing history. Harry Styles is reading someone for filth.
She jabs a finger at his chest. โYou think you can speak to me this way?โ
Harry leans in. โI think I just did.โ
You swear you hear a โYASSSโ from a gay man across the room.
Madame Zena flicks her cape dramatically. โI have dressed royalty.โ
Harry flicks his own imaginary cape. โI am royalty. Styles royalty. Ask literally anyone.โ
She narrows her eyes. โYour fashion sense is childish.โ
Harry gestures at her outfit. โYou look like a chandelier that escaped.โ
A gasp ripples through the room. Someone whispers, โOh my God, heโs snapping.โ
Madame Zenaโs nostrils flare. โYou are uncultured.โ
Harry scoffs. โI read books.โ
โYou read what, romance novels?โ
Harry lifts his chin. โBetter than whatever you read โ which Iโm guessinโ is just your own press releases.โ
You wheeze. You are crying. You are witnessing the birth of Harryโs inner Real Housewife.
Madame Zena steps back, clutching her pearls. โI do not have to stand here and be insulted by a boy band member.โ
Harry smirks. โThen sit.โ
The room explodes. People are covering their mouths. Someone drops a champagne glass. A stylist faints.
Madame Zena sputters, cape trembling. โYouโ youโโ
Harry waves a hand. โRun along now, sweetheart.โ
Sweetheart. He called her sweetheart. You are deceased.
Madame Zena storms away, heels stabbing the floor like sheโs killing it with each step.
Harry turns to you, face flushed, chest heaving. You stare at him. He stares at you.
โโฆHarry,โ you whisper.
He blinks. โYeah?โ
โWhat was that?โ
He rubs the back of his neck. โDunno. Somethinโ came over me.โ
โSomething?โ
He nods. โYeah. Likeโฆ like a switch flipped.โ
โA bitch switch?โ
Harry gasps. โDonโt call it that.โ
โYou were a Real Housewife.โ
โI was not.โ
โYou told her to sit.โ
Harry covers his face. โOh God.โ
โYou called her pressed.โ
He groans. โStop.โ
โYou said she looked like a chandelier.โ
He peeks through his fingers. โOkay, that one was funny.โ
You grin. โHarryโฆ Iโve never seen you like that.โ
He shrugs helplessly. โShe was beinโ awful. And I justโฆ snapped.โ
โYou snapped beautifully.โ
He laughs, embarrassed. โIโm not proud of it.โ
โYou should be.โ
He sighs. โI feel like I need to sage myself.โ
A week later, a package arrives. Harry opens it. Inside is a note:
โTo the pop star.
You may be rude, but you are entertaining. Consider modeling for my next show.
โ Madame Zenaโ
If you want to write you need to read. Read everything you can get your hands on. Not just fiction from your genre. Read other genres, read articles, read the paper, read things you disagree with, read the same plot over and over because itโs that good, read pamphlets, read academic literature, read childrenโs books, read smutty erotica, read sweet coming of age, read jokes on social media, read posts made by friends and strangers, read texts, read folklore, read experimental texts, read lyrics, read plaques at the park, read info texts in museums, read books no one else has read, read reviews for the most popular books, read, read, read.
Read anything and everything you can get your hands on and let it all sink in until the written word becomes a language so ingrained in yourself that nothing is foreign to you.
*Based off a request and a Perrie Edwards song, Cute Aggression!*
Harryโs already running late.
Which is, in fairness, not entirely his fault. Itโs hard to be punctual when your twoโyearโold insists on wearing sparkly rain boots, a tutu, and one of your old beanies that keeps sliding over her eyes.
โDaddy, hat,โ Lexi mumbles, pushing the beanie up again with both hands.
โI know, bug. It keeps fallinโ,โ Harry laughs, adjusting it for the tenth time. โTold you itโs too big.โ
She gasps like heโs said something scandalous. โNo. Itโs pwetty.โ
โAlright, alright. Itโs pretty.โ
They reach the rehearsal room door. Harry barely gets it open beforeโ
โIS THAT MY FAVORITE GIRL IN THE WORLD?โ
Louis is the first to sprint over, nearly knocking over a mic stand. He scoops Lexi right out of Harryโs arms, spinning her around while she squeals.
โLou, carefulโโ Harry starts. But itโs too late. The rest of the boys have descended.
Niall: โLEXIIIIII! Oh my God, look at her little boots. Iโm gonna cry.โ
Zayn: โNah, mate, look at the beanie. Itโs bigger than her whole head.โ
Liam: โCome here, sweetheartโoh my goodness, sheโs so tiny today. Why is she so tiny today?โ
Harry stands there, hands on hips, watching four grown men lose their collective minds over a toddler. Lexi, meanwhile, is thriving. She pats Liamโs cheeks, grabs Zaynโs necklace, and kicks her sparkly boots against Niallโs chest like sheโs conducting an orchestra.
โGuys,โ Harry says, trying not to laugh, โI did actually bring her here so I could rehearse.โ
โRehearse?โ Louis scoffs. โAnd deprive us of THIS?โ
โSheโs literally eating your hoodie drawstring,โ Harry points out.
โAnd Iโd let her,โ Louis says without hesitation.
Rehearsal becomes chaos immediately. Harry tries to run through harmonies, but every time he opens his mouth, he's interrupted by:
โLexi, sweetheart, do you want this tambourine?โ
โOH MY GOD SHE SMILED AT MEโHARRY DID YOU SEE THAT?โ
Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. โLads. Please. Iโm begginโ.โ
But heโs smiling. Because thisโthis ridiculous, chaotic, loveโsoaked messโis exactly why he brings her. Sheโs safe here. Sheโs growing up surrounded by people who treat her like she hung the moon.
Break time is even worse. Lexi sits on the floor drawing something that looks vaguely like a potato.
โWhatโs that, Lex?โ Harry asks.
She holds it up proudly. โDaddy.โ
The boys collectively gasp like theyโre watching a marriage proposal.
Then comes the moment that ends them all. Lexi toddles over to Harry, climbs into his lap, and rests her head on his chest. Justโฆ curls right into him like heโs her whole world.
Harry wraps his arms around her, swaying gently, humming under his breath.
The boys freeze.
โIโm gonna explode,โ Louis whispers.
Niall: โI actually feel it. In my chest. Iโm dying.โ
Lexi lifts her head, looks at the boys, and says in the tiniest voice: โHi.โ
They scream. Actually scream.
Harry covers her ears. โOI! Sheโs a baby!โ
By the end of the day, Lexi is asleep on Harryโs shoulder, her beanie crooked, her boots dangling. The boys are gathered around like sheโs a rare artifact.
โSheโs perfect,โ Niall whispers.
โSheโs the band baby,โ Zayn adds.
Harry looks at all of themโthese idiots, these brothersโand feels something warm settle in his chest. โThanks for lovinโ her,โ he says softly.
Louis bumps his shoulder. โMate. Weโre obsessed with her.โ
Harry laughs quietly so he doesnโt wake her. โYeah,โ he murmurs, kissing the top of her head. โI know.โ
-------
(I added a bonus cause WHY NOT???!!!)
Harry shouldโve known something was off the moment the room went quiet.
Lexi is sitting on the floor of the rehearsal space, surrounded by the boys, coloring with the intensity of someone who believes Crayola is a competitive sport. Louis is lying on his stomach beside her, kicking his feet in the air like a teenage girl on the phone.
Harryโs across the room tuning his guitar when he hears it. A tiny voice. Sweet. Highโpitched. Innocent.
โShiโ.โ
Harry freezes. The guitar pick drops out of his hand. Slowlyโslowlyโhe turns around.
Lexi is still coloring. Louis is staring at her like heโs seen a ghost. Niall has both hands over his mouth. Zayn is blinking very fast. Liam looks like heโs about to call a family meeting.
Harry walks over, voice dangerously calm. โโฆWhat did she just say?โ
Louis immediately points at Niall. โIt was him.โ
Niall chokes. โWHATโno it wasnโt! I didnโt say anything!โ
Lexi looks up at Harry, proud as can be, and repeats it. โShiโ.โ
Harryโs soul leaves his body. โLEXI ROSE STYLES.โ
She giggles. โShiโ!โ
Louis is wheezing into the floor. Harry rounds on him. โLOUIS. WHAT DID YOU DO.โ
โI didnโt do anything!โ Louis insists, still laughing. โShe justโshe just said it! Sheโs a genius!โ
โSheโs TWO.โ
โExactly! Advanced vocabulary!โ
Liam steps in like the responsible dad friend he is. โOkay, okay, everyone calm down. Harry, she doesnโt know what it means.โ
โI KNOW she doesnโt know what it means,โ Harry says, pacing. โBut my baby said a curse word.โ
Lexi, delighted by the attention, tries again. โShiโ!โ
Harry makes a noise that can only be described as a dying kettle.
Zayn finally loses it and starts laughing. โMate, youโre doomed. Sheโs around Louis too much.โ
Harry kneels in front of Lexi, trying to keep his voice gentle. โBugโฆ we donโt say that word, okay? Itโs a grownโup word.โ
Lexi blinks at him. Then points at Louis. โLou say it.โ
The room explodes. Niall falls off the couch. Zayn is crying. Liam is wheezing. Louis looks like heโs been caught by the principal.
โLouis. Care to explain?โ
Louis throws his hands up. โI stubbed my toe! It slipped out! I didnโt think she heard me!โ
โShe hears EVERYTHING,โ Harry groans. โSheโs like a sponge with pigtails.โ
โNOโno, no, no, sweetheart, we sayโฆ shoot. Shoot.โ
Lexi considers this. Then nods. โShoot.โ
Harry exhales in relief. Then she adds, very softly: โShiโ.โ
Harryโs head hits the wall. Louis is laughing so hard heโs useless.
Later, when theyโre packing up, Lexi is asleep on Harryโs shoulder. Louis walks over, looking properly sheepish.
โHeyโฆ Haz? Iโm sorry. Really. I didnโt mean to teach her that.โ
Harry looks at him, tired but fond. โI know you didnโt. Justโฆ maybe watch the language around her, yeah?โ
Louis nods. โPromise. Then I better start saying nice things.โ
Harry raises a brow. โLike what?โ
Louis leans in and whispers to Lexiโs sleeping form: โDaddyโs the best.โ
Harryโs face softens instantly. โโฆThanks, Lou.โ
Louis shrugs. โFigured if sheโs gonna parrot something, might as well be true.โ
Harry smiles down at his daughter. โYeah. Thatโd be nice.โ
Hiii, can you do single dad harry styles x 3 year old daughter where its 2013 and harry is still yk in 1D and he takes her with him to see the boys and they all have cute aggression (including harry) and they play with her and stuff!!
Oh yeah!!!! I've been waiting for this!!! Absolutely!
