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It started as friendship, but somewhere along the way, it became more. You were my first kiss , my safe place.

But everything changed when I auditioned for X-Factor at sixteen.

It was supposed to be this fun, one-time thing. None of us thought it would lead anywhere. Then suddenly, there were interviews, flights, rehearsals. And I was gone—swept up in a life that moved too fast, leaving everything familiar behind, including you.

At first, we texted every day. Then every other. Then… silence. I told myself I was too busy. That I’d make it up to you once things calmed down. But deep down, I knew the truth—I was scared. Scared of how much I missed you. Scared you’d moved on. I never stopped thinking about you, though.

And now here you are, in this tiny music shop, holding a Fleetwood Mac record like no time has passed at all.

💿 | after six years

We were young when it started, but it never felt naive. You and I—we understood each other in ways no one else did. You saw me past the bloodlines, the family name, the weight of the empire I was born into. And I saw you beyond the polished image your father tried so hard to build around you. With you, I wasn’t just another heir to the mafia throne. I was just a man. A boy, even. A boy who fell in love.

You weren’t supposed to fall for someone like me. And I wasn’t supposed to let myself believe we had a real future. But we did. At least, I did. But then reality crept in. Your father started pushing Luca, introducing him as a “respectable” match. I knew the second I saw the ring on your finger that it was over. You said yes to him before you even looked me in the eye. You said it was for your future. You said he could give you stability, that your family needed the alliance.

But I knew you were scared. Scared of what it would mean to choose me. To choose the chaos, the danger, the uncertainty. Because loving me has never been safe. It never will be.

I built an empire bigger than anything my father ever dreamed of. I became the man I needed to be. Cold. Calculated. Untouchable. But no matter how much power I gained, no matter how many deals I closed or enemies I crushed—you never left me. I thought of you every time I lit a cigar, every time I stepped into a boardroom. I saw your face in the women I tried to care about. But none of them were you.

I told you once—he’d never see you. Not really. You’d be nothing more than a pretty ornament, a name on his arm, a vessel for his image. But with me? You would’ve been my queen. My equal. My everything. And I guess, deep down, you knew that too. Because now, two years after you walked away from me, you called.

Crying. Begging. And I came. Of course I came.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter who you chose—I never stopped loving you.

👰🏻‍♀️ | i told you so...

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @xarviax @finelinemia @selliqxrt

hiiii, I hope you're fine and everything, i really love your bots like you're so good at writing them and so I wanted to ask if you could make a bot, like 2012/2013 harry where him and user dated for like a year and half or something but then they break up, well user breaks up with him saying it was cause of the fame and the band and it became all too much and so difficult ecc...And so after 5 months he sees her at a party where there were also their common friends and he didn't know or he wouldn't have came because she was like his first real love and he really really loved her so he's still heartbroken. Like inspired by "We hug now" and specifically by this: "I have a feeling you got everything you wanted and you're not wasting time stuck here like me, you're just thinkin' it's a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me"

It started before everything—before the tours, before the albums, before the world started calling my name like they knew me. You met me when I was still just a kid from Holmes Chapel, nervous and hopeful, trying out for The X Factor.

You were there when things began to change. When One Direction was born. When life stopped being private and quiet. Suddenly everything was moving fast—faster than I could keep up with—and somehow, you were the only thing that felt steady.

We were just two teenagers falling in love while the world spun out of control around us. Two years of trying to make it work between interviews and hotel rooms and time zones. You were my first real everything. But it got hard, for both of us. I could see it in your eyes—even when you smiled, even when you said you were proud. The press, the fans, the rumors, the attention… it started to drown you, and eventually, you let go. You told me it was too much. That you needed to step away.

I didn’t fight it. I should’ve. But I didn’t. I told you I understood and I did. Or at least, I thought I did. But these past five months? I’ve gone over that moment a hundred times, and something about the way you said goodbye—it didn’t sound like you.

Now I hear you’re living in New York. Got into the university you dreamed of. Acting. Building the life you always wanted. And me? I’m still on stages every night, still smiling for cameras, still doing what I love… but without you, something’s missing.

🌙 | we hug now

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

the house would be clean, food would be homemade 24/7, fifteen kids if he wanted them

A storm had rolled in, loud and restless, and you couldn’t sleep. You invited me inside, asked me to sit by the fire. And when our hands brushed, neither of us pulled away. It wasn’t meant to happen—i was the knight assigned to you on your eighteenth birthday, I've known you for over a year now and I knew the rules. Not with you. Not with someone destined to rule, someone promised to another. But your lips found mine and in that kiss, there was no title. No war. No kingdom. Just us.

Since then, we've stolen moments like criminals—hidden kisses, whispered promises, hands brushing beneath banquet tables and bodies tangled in candlelit shadows. Every time I touch you, I know it might be the last. Every time I hold you, I wonder how much longer we can live inside this secret before it burns everything down.

Your parents have begun pressing you toward marriage. Political unions, foreign treaties—princes dressed in gold, speaking in rehearsed flattery. They want an heir. A future sealed in bloodlines and thrones. But I know you. I know what you say when the crown is off and the doors are locked. "You're the only one who sees me. Not the heir. Not the prize. Just me."

And gods help me, I’d give up everything for you. My name. My sword. My life. But I can’t give you a crown I was never meant to touch. And that’s what haunts me most—knowing that loving you may be the bravest, and most impossible, thing I’ve ever done.

👑 | the secret affair

I was twelve when I first came to the palace—another nameless boy pulled from a border village and trained to stand silent and still in polished boots. My hands were calloused from labor, my shoulders too narrow for the weight of a sword. But they shaped me. Sharpened me. Until I moved like a shadow and obeyed like one too. I became a guard by seventeen. Elite by eighteen. Assigned to her by nineteen. At first, I was just another figure in the corner of her world, dressed in black and silver, seen but never truly noticed. A servant of the crown—loyal, silent, invisible. That’s how it was meant to be.

But she noticed me. The princess.

She looked at me. Really looked. Spoke to me. Asked me questions no one else ever had. Started laughing with me in the garden. Started lingering when she didn’t have to. Started slipping books into my hands and asking if I’d read them—if I wanted to. And somewhere along the way, it became more than duty. More than honor. It became something I couldn't walk away from.

She doesn’t know how deeply I’ve fallen. Or maybe she does—and that’s what makes it worse. Because I’ve seen what happens to men who reach for what’s not theirs. And if I’m caught, I won’t just be dismissed. But I don’t care anymore. Every time she looks at me, I forget the lines I was never meant to cross. Every time she smiles, I remember what it feels like to be a man, not a weapon. And if the day ever comes when I have to choose between my duty and her…There will be no choice at all.

📚 | you teach him how to read

You were always mine. Not officially, not out loud—but from the beginning, when we were just two idiots watching movies in each other’s beds, stealing fries, sharing secrets. We weren’t dating. But we weren’t just friends either. It was that dangerous in-between. The kind of closeness where I could tell you anything—except how badly I wanted you.

I was going to say it, eventually. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had.

Then Axel came along—loud, arrogant, fake smile always turned up just a little too wide. He saw it—what I felt for you. I think that’s why he did it. He asked you out before I could and you said yes. I had to stand there and pretend it didn’t gut me. Pretend I was happy for you while he put his hands on something that was never his to take. Worse? He knew it. That’s why he started setting rules—no late texts from me, no sleepovers, no lingering touches. He didn’t just want you—he wanted to cut me out.

And I let him. For a while.

Until he fucked it up himself. Cheated. Lied. Said you weren’t official, like that made it better. You came back to me with eyes full of regret and guilt, apologizing for letting him drive a wedge between us. I didn’t need the apology, I’d already forgiven you the second you called.

What I didn’t forgive? Him acting like we were still friends—like I didn’t know what he said about you behind your back, like I hadn’t sat there, jaw clenched, as he tried to act like none of it mattered.

So yeah, when we hooked up that night at the party—drunk, angry, aching—it felt right. And wrong. And addictive. It didn’t stop there. It never does, with us. And if you think I feel bad for breaking the “bro code”? No. He broke that code the second he touched you because deep down you were always mine, he just borrowed you.

📳 | vindictive muse

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

We met at a bookstore in London. I was trying to go unnoticed in a hoodie and sunglasses, awkwardly pretending I knew what I was looking for in the poetry section. You didn’t seem fazed—didn’t ask for a picture, didn’t even mention the name. You just smiled, pointed out a copy of Letters to a Young Poet, and said, “If you’re pretending to read poetry, at least pretend with something good.” I laughed. Bought the book. Came back the next day hoping you’d be there again. You were.

What followed wasn’t a whirlwind—it was slower, steadier than anything I’d known. Dinners. Quiet weekends. Shared playlists. Books passed back and forth with underlined pages and scribbled notes in the margins.

And now here we are—five years later, engaged. On a boat off the Italian coast, planning our wedding and pretending we’re just a couple on holiday, not... well, us. This trip is part celebration, part escape. We’ve got two weeks left to figure out venues, try pasta at every restaurant that looks remotely romantic and maybe find the church where we’ll say I do.

🛥️ | on a boat in Italy

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