A short summer romance with a heartbreaking goodbye
Chapter 1. 2. 3.
💔 Moving Along (one shot)
Story is inspired by the song Moving Along by 5 Seconds of Summer
💕 You Had Me (one shot)
You and Calum are divorced and Cal shows you he is the only one for you and starts putting in the hard work.
💕 He didn't deserve you (one shot)
You're engaged to Ashton when you find out he cheated Calum comes up with a genius idea for revenge.
Luke Hemmings
💕 Tattoo (one shot requested)
Luke comes with you to get your first tattoo.
Harry Styles
💕 Unwritten (series)
Y/N is a singer who meets Harry at a red carpet.
Chapter 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
💕 Weekend at the Cabin (one shot)
a weekend away with Harry and friends leads to something more with extra touches and longing looks from Harry.
❤️🔥 I own you (one shot)
"Everything on you i bought and paid for. i think that means i own you too.”
💕 Hushed moments (one shot)
Finding Harry in his home studio quietly singing when he can't sleep
💕 Got That Out of Your System, Princess? (one shot)
After a petty argument you charge Harry's amex a ridiculous amount in a tantrum.
💕Timing (one shot)
falling pregnant at the wrong time? or the right time?
💕 Regret (one shot)
Harry regrets years later breaking up with you.
💕❤️🩹 🖤Try again (one shot)
In the middle of a divorce something happens that brings you both back together.
💕❤️🩹 The Silence Between Us
Harry stops putting in the effort after getting busy and when you express how you've been feeling he actually puts in the effort to prove how much he still wants this.
💕Cherry Red (One shot)
Harry cheats on you so you make him regret it and it all starts with a song that lets the world know he finishes early.
❤️🔥 Handshake (One shot)
“I’m not worried about your ex, I’ll shake his hand with the same one I had you shaking with this morning."
💕 I should have been your home (One shot)
At an awards show you are sat next to your ex-husband and he just can't help himself.
❤️🩹 Doctor (AU One shot)
You are the new Doctor at St. Augustine’s Hospital, where Harry is known as the best neurosurgeon in the city… but you're the best neurosurgeon in the country. The enemies-to-lovers trope is real.
🌶️ You regret that text now? (One shot)
You text Harry that you were left unsatisfied last night and he makes damn sure that doesn't happen again.
Dad Harry AU (connected stand alone stories with the same kids Hattie, Felix, Finn and Mabel)
💕 Another baby girl (one shot)
Telling your kids you're having another baby sister (birth of Mabel)
💕 Love in every corner (one shot)
While moving house Harry and you reminisce
💕 Easter (one shot)
Easter with the kids and the chaos.
💕 Lake Como (one shot)
A chaotic family holiday to Lake Como
💕 Talk show (one shot)
Harry gushes about his family on Jimmy Fallon
💕 Tour (one shot)
Snippets of life on tour with the kids
💕 Just like us (one shot)
Harry has trouble letting your youngest daughter Mabel grow up when she is going on her first date.
💕 Empty Nesters (one shot)
Harry really struggled when your youngest Mabel moved out and it's just you two in the house.
💕 Tuscany (one shot)
Your eldest Hattie gets married in Tuscany
💕 Love is love (one shot)
Your son Finn is nervous to introduce his boyfriend to the family
💕 Christmas (one shot)
Christmas with the Styles family and an announcement that changes everything
Louis Tomlinson
💕 Seagull (one shot requested)
A picnic with Louis ends up with him being chased by a Seagull.
💕 Puppy (one shot requested)
You and Louis get a new Puppy from the shelter.
💕 I want another one (one shot requested)
Louis wants another baby
🌶️ 💕 Costa Rica (one shot requested)
You join Louis recording his new album in Costa Rica.
Bradley Will Simpson
💕 The Wedding (short series)
You see your Ex Brad at your cousin James wedding and it sparks something in you both.
Chapter 1. 2. 3.
💕You won't find another like me (one shot)
Based on The Vamps song you wont find another like me.
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SUMMARY: You were never really trying to forget. You were just waiting for the right version of each other to come back.
NOTE: PLEASE SOMEONE TELL ME THAT I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN'T MOVE ON FROM THE 10s BOY BANDS, PLEASE. xoxo
Your voice had cracked that night—but not from anger. You weren’t yelling, you weren’t crying. That’s what made it worse. You were calm. Calm in a way that screamed you were done hoping he’d change. That you’d finally stopped trying to fight for something he wasn’t even holding on to anymore.
“I just need you to listen, Bradley.”
You stood there by the door of his flat, arms crossed, your keys clenched in one hand like they might save you. “One day, you’re gonna look back and realize… you won’t find someone like me.”
He had scoffed back then, blinking like the idea of losing you was ridiculous. “You’re being dramatic.”
But the silence that followed made the words stick in the air like smoke after a firework fizzled out. That was six months ago.
Now? Now he knows.
Bradley is sitting on the corner of his worn leather sofa, one hand half-buried in his curls, the other holding a cup of coffee he hasn’t taken a sip from. The girl beside him is laughing at something on her phone—something dumb, some reel or meme. He smiles politely, even lets out a soft chuckle to be polite.
But his eyes? They keep darting to the hallway.
Because last winter, you’d always peek your head out from the bedroom right about now, wearing one of his hoodies and rubbing your eyes like a sleepy kitten. You’d groan about the terrible British weather or ask why he didn’t make enough toast for both of you. You’d kiss the top of his head mid-yawn.
And he’d grin like an idiot. Every single time.
Now? Now he’s just pretending to grin.
Because it’s not you.
-
His phone vibrates on the counter.
It’s a message from Connor—something about a band rehearsal next week—but he swipes it away.
Instead, he finds himself on your Instagram page, thumb hovering over your latest story. It’s blurry, dim. A bar maybe. There’s a guy’s shoulder half in frame. You’re not even in the picture—but his brain zooms in, analyzing.
Is she on a date?
Is she laughing like she used to with me?
Does he know she has a soft spot for thunderstorms, or that she sleeps with one sock on and one off?
His stomach knots.
He shuts his phone off. He tells himself it’s none of his business.
But he’s still hoping—like some pathetic idiot—that you're sitting across from that guy right now, bored out of your mind. That maybe you’re staring past him, secretly praying he’ll say something stupid, just so you can leave.
Just so you can realize... you still miss him.
But you probably don’t.
-
Bradley never changed your contact name. Never deleted the playlist you made on his Spotify. Never unfollowed your account like he said he would. “Clean break,” he had told the boys. “It’s better that way.”
He didn’t mean it.
Not when he still paused at every corner in Camden hoping he might bump into you. Not when he passed that tiny Thai place you loved and slowed down just to glance inside. Not when he started keeping his Sundays free “just in case.”
He meant if.
If you needed time.
If you wanted to see who else was out there.
If you were done chasing someone who didn’t always show up for you.
But if you ever—ever—looked back?
He’d be right here.
Still on that same green couch. Still humming unfinished melodies with your name stitched through the lyrics. Still talking to your ghost in every quiet hour.
He’d still be not with someone new.
Not because he couldn’t.
But because he didn’t want to.
Because none of them laugh like you do.
None of them scrunch their nose when they try not to cry.
None of them kiss him like they mean it.
He reaches for his guitar, the one gathering dust against the wall. Plucks at it softly. His fingers find the chords like muscle memory, but his heart stumbles through the words.
He starts singing under his breath, not rehearsed, not polished—just true.
“If you’ve seen enough…
Know that I’ll be right here…”
It comes out cracked, soft, like a secret he’s only now willing to admit out loud.
“Not with someone new…
I keep on missing you…”
Bradley hasn’t slept.
It’s nearly 5 a.m., and his flat is still bathed in the soft blue of streetlights leaking through the blinds. His guitar rests on the floor by the couch. Half-written lyrics are scribbled across the back of a Tesco receipt, the pen lines shaky from his fingers trembling.
He can’t take it anymore.
He pushes off the couch like something inside him finally snapped—like he can’t sit still one more minute without doing something.
The cold hits him as he steps out. He doesn't bother with a jacket. His hoodie will do. The roads are empty, the world not quite awake, but his footsteps pound the pavement like a drumbeat in his chest.
He doesn’t even text.
Doesn’t want to give himself time to second guess it. If he does, he’ll turn back. He knows himself well enough to know fear wins when he lets it speak.
And God, he’s scared.
Scared you’ve already found someone who does everything he couldn’t. Someone who shows up. Someone who listens. Someone who doesn’t take you for granted and then write songs about how much they miss you six months later.
But he’s more scared of not knowing.
Of letting you slip through his fingers while he hides behind lyrics and missed calls.
By the time he’s at your doorstep, dawn is breaking—soft pink skies creeping into the cracks of the city. He doesn’t even knock right away. He stands there, hand hovering, heart pounding so loud he can barely hear himself think.
Then, slowly, the door creaks open.
You're there. Hair messy, eyes puffy from sleep, an oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. You look at him like he’s not real for a second.
You open your mouth to speak—but he beats you to it.
“Look, I know I’ve got no right to be here. I just… I can’t keep all this weight on my shoulders.”
You blink, stepping back a little. “Brad—”
“I can’t sleep,” he interrupts, voice cracking. “My bed’s cold every night and it’s not because I’m alone. It’s because you’re not in it.”
You fold your arms across your chest, silent, but your jaw clenches.
He swallows. “I tried. I tried to move on. I really thought maybe I could fake it long enough to feel normal again. But I can’t. I keep hearing your voice in my head. I keep seeing you in every f—king room. I strip it all back and underneath I know—” He stops, his breath catching.
“I’m scared,” he admits, eyes locked on yours. “I’m scared you'll find another like me, better. Someone who listens the first time. Someone who doesn’t need to lose you to realize what they had.”
Silence.
A passing car hums down the street. A bird chirps from the rooftop nearby. You’re just watching him—still barefoot, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes searching his like maybe you're trying to see if he means it.
Then you whisper, “You should’ve said all that before.”
“I know,” he says instantly. “I know I should have. And if it’s too late, I’ll go. I swear. I just needed you to hear it.”
Another beat.
You don’t speak. Instead, you step back into the hallway and leave the door open.
Bradley’s chest tightens—but then, quietly, you say:
“You coming in?”
Everything looks the same—but also different. The polaroids on the fridge. The blanket you used to wrap yourselves in on rainy days, now folded neatly on the armrest. The scent in the air. It still smells like you, but fainter now. Like time’s been trying to erase him.
You shut the door behind him. Quietly. Carefully. Not like you’re angry. But like you’re waiting to see if this version of him is real.
You pad into the kitchen, wordlessly grab two mugs, and start boiling water. Chamomile—because you remember he always hated the bitter stuff.
He stays standing. Fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. Watching you move in the dim morning light like you’re something sacred he forgot how to hold.
“You look tired,” you say softly, pouring water over the teabags.
“I haven’t slept,” he murmurs. “Not really, not since…”
You nod, not needing the rest.
He finally speaks again after a moment. “I was a dick.”
You lift an eyebrow, half amused. “Bit of an understatement.”
“I know,” he breathes. “Maybe I should’ve loved harder. I thought just being there sometimes was enough—but you were always there for me. Always. And I didn’t even check if you were alright.”
You hand him his tea, and your fingers brush. He looks down at the contact like it burns. Then back up at you.
“I didn’t see it right,” he says quietly. “What we had. You were everything, and I was too wrapped up in my own head to see it. Now I realize.”
You lean against the counter, eyes fixed on him. “And what do you want, Bradley?”
His lips part—then close again.
Then he takes a slow, shaky breath. “I want another chance. Not to be perfect, or to pretend I’ve got it all together. But to try. Really try. To show up. To talk things out. To listen when you’re hurting and not just when it’s convenient.”
He sets the mug down, steps closer.
“I want to know if your new coworker still microwaves fish. I want to hear you hum songs under your breath in the shower. I want your bad jokes at breakfast and your cold toes in my bed. I want you.”
Your eyes well up, but you don’t blink them away. You let him see.
“I wanted you to fight for me, Brad.”
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m fighting now.”
You take a long sip of tea to steady your breath. Then, slowly, you reach up and tug the edge of his hoodie—his old one, still worn thin at the sleeves.
And when he steps into your arms, when he buries his face in your shoulder like he’s coming home, neither of you says anything for a while.
Because this is the moment you were both missing.
Not a dramatic apology.
Not a grand romantic gesture.
Just this.
summary | from the beginning, everything had been sunshine and rainbows, but now, all hangs on the line. after you and brad get into a heated argument and all is about to break, brad begs for your forgiveness.
The room was tense, the air practically crackling with the charged energy of an argument that had escalated far beyond its original point. You and Brad had found yourselves in a heated dispute, your voices raised and words like arrows striking their mark. The once warm and cosy temperature of your shared apartment now felt suffocating, each corner echoing with the remnants of your heated exchange.
The catalyst for the argument was a date that should been etched into Brad's memory: your birthday. Yet, he had forgotten, and the disappointment that washed over you was palpable, turning the day into an emotional battlefield.
"I can't believe you forgot, Brad!" Your voice quivered with a mix of sadness and anger, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I know, and I'm truly sorry," Brad's voice carried a weight of remorse, his expression a reflection of his regret. "It was thoughtless of me."
The argument had spiraled from there, unraveling years of shared memories, trust, and affection. The wounds you both inadvertently tore open during the heat of the dispute ran deep, leaving your relationship hanging in the balance.
Silence descended upon the room, both of you catching your breath, emotions still raw from the intensity of the argument. Brad's initial defensiveness had given way to genuine regret as he gazed at your tear-streaked face, the pain he had caused etched into your features.
"I never meant to hurt you like this," Brad's voice was laced with sadness and self-reproach, his own heartache evident in his eyes. "I messed up, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am."
You blinked, anger beginning to dissipate as you took in the depth of Brad's remorse. "Why didn't you just tell me if you were preoccupied? We could have made other plans together?"
Brad's shoulders slumped, and he took a cautious step forward, his gaze fixed on your eyes as he reached out, his fingers hovering in the space between you. "I should have communicated better. I let my own negligence overshadow how much you mean to me."
Your expression softened as you listened to Brad's confession. You could see his genuine remorse, a mirror to his own regrets and vulnerabilities.
"I wanted your birthday to be special, and I ended up ruining it," Brad continued, his voice heavy with regret. "I love you more than words could say, Y/N, and I can't imagine my life without you."
Tears welled up in your eyes again, your emotions in turmoil. Taking a tentative step forward, you closed the distance, and Brad enveloped you in a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry too," you whispered, your voice barely audible, the weight of your own mistakes heavy on your conscience.
You held each other in silence, the weight of the argument and the pain gradually giving way to the warmth of your shared embrace. When you finally pulled apart, Brad cupped your tear-streaked face in his hands, his eyes brimming with sincerity.
"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" Brad's voice was a plea, his vulnerability laid bare.
You gazed into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love there, the same love that had woven your lives together. With a shaky breath, you nodded.
"I forgive you, Brad."
Relief washed over Brad's features, and he pulled you into another tight hug, as if afraid to let you go.
From that moment on, you both vowed to communicate better, to treasure each other's emotions and cherish the time you had together. Your love proved unbreakable, even in the face of the darkest moments. As you both worked through your issues, your relationship emerged stronger, a vow to the power of forgiveness and the resilience of two hearts intertwined.
