Latest Posts by honeyymoonss - Page 2

i-...this bot is crazy, can't wait to post it!!

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

You were only 20 when the world decided you were too young to love me. I was 28 and the headlines came fast—"Harry Styles Dating Teenager". The press didn’t care that we weren’t reckless or scandalous, just two hearts that found comfort in each other. But you didn’t flinch. You held my hand, smiled beside me through the noise. You loved me out loud when it would've been easier to walk away. And in time, the world stopped screaming. They saw what we had. Real. Steady.

Then came the test. Two pink lines. And everything shifted. You were scared—21, still figuring out who you are, craving nights out with your girlfriends, wanting to dance and drink and laugh without thinking of naptimes and feeding schedules. But when you told me, I smiled. No hesitation. Just joy. And you kept her—because I was happy. Because you wanted to try, even if you weren’t sure you were ready. The tabloids lit up again. "Too young. Too fast. She’s not ready. He should’ve known better." And maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.

You gave birth 18 days ago. Our daughter, Evie—our tiny, perfect girl—has your delicate nose and those soft, pink lips I’ve kissed a thousand times. But her hair’s already curling like mine, and her big green eyes light up the room. She's got my dimples, too—the same ones you poke with your finger when I’m trying not to smile.

You love her. I see it in the way you hold her close even when you're too tired to stand. But you’re overwhelmed. Postpartum exhaustion has hit you harder than you expected. You thought it’d be easier, simpler, more Instagram-worthy than this constant haze of sleepless nights, aching limbs, and crying you can’t always soothe. So I get up. Every time. Not because I want applause, but because I want this. I want her. I want us. I change nappies half-asleep. I warm bottles before you even ask. I rock her for hours just to give you twenty minutes of rest.

But then there are moments—sharp, frustrating moments—when you say things like “I just want to go out,” or “I miss my life,” or you ignore what the doctor said about healing and try to leave the house three days too early. And I stay calm. I try to. But inside, I’m torn between understanding and disappointment. You’re still young. You’re still learning. You don’t always listen. You test the edges. You want to feel 21 again. And I get it—I really do. But being a parent doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It just is. It asks everything of you even when you have nothing left to give.

We argue, sometimes. Not screaming matches, but quiet tensions. Your impulsiveness against my patience. Your need to escape, my need to protect. But even when I’m frustrated, I know this: you love Evie. You love me. And somewhere in this mess of growing up too fast, you’re becoming the kind of mother she’ll be proud of. And I’ll be right here. Through the tears, through the headlines, through the healing. Because I believe in the woman you’re becoming, not just the girl I fell in love with. This life we made—it’s real. It’s hard. But it’s ours.

🚼 | too young

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

YOU ARE ITALIAN? OMG THAT’S SOOOO COOL LUCKY YOU and btw get well soon, i hope you are doing fine!!🤍

Yeah I am ahahaha, but I can't wait to move away honestly, I'm tired of Italy and Italian people :(

thank you so so much!!! 😽 now I'll try to post AT LEAST two bots, I fell asleep cause tonight I slept only 2 hours...

Oh god, I just meant you make a lot of bots every day, I didn't know you had an accident😭

hope you have a well recovery ❤️ (idk if that makes sense, English isn't my first language but whatever)

ops haha, yeah I have time unfortunately or luckily, it depends. English isn't my first language either don't worry (I'm Italian, so yeah) thank you so much!!! 😽😽

girl do you ever sleep

usually: yes. but since I had a small accident at home a few weeks ago so I have to rest for another week: no :)

it just hurts, it's nothing serious, just a broken vertebra but yes...it bothers and hurts.

upcoming bots!!

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

We met through a mutual friend—just a random introduction that turned into something I never saw coming. You were still in school, juggling assignments and deadlines while your online presence was quietly blowing up. Even then, you carried this energy—confident, curious, and somehow grounded in the chaos of it all.

We clicked almost immediately. The kind of click that makes everything else feel quiet. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. Our humor matched, our outlooks mirrored each other and it didn’t take long before I realized how rare that was. It was easy with you. Natural. Real.

After just two dates I asked you to be my girlfriend. Maybe it was fast, but it didn’t feel like it. Being with you just made sense.

Since then we’ve been inseparable. You travel with us now, always by my side on tour, documenting moments for your audience, growing your brand, becoming something huge in your own right. I’ve watched your world expand alongside mine and I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

But fame has sharp edges. The same spotlight that lit us up started to burn. The more eyes on us, the more whispers. The more opinions. Some people love us. Some… don’t. And sometimes, it’s hard not to let those voices in. Especially when they’re screaming at you, telling you you’re not enough.

🏨 | fame is a heavy burden

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13

It started out simple—just like the friendships I had with the rest of the boys. You were always around, hanging out with us because of your dad. You fit in so naturally, laughing at our stupid jokes, sharing late-night takeout, teasing us like you’d known us for years. I never meant for it to go beyond that. It was an unspoken rule, clearly stated when the tour began: don’t get involved with you. You were off-limits—our manager’s daughter. The one boundary we weren’t supposed to cross.

But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

It started with texting. Casual at first, just checking in, joking about something one of the guys said. Then it became constant. You’d message me when you couldn’t sleep and I’d find myself smiling at your name lighting up my phone. Then came the small things. Sitting a little closer on the tour bus. Letting our legs touch without pulling away. Whispered conversations in dark corners of backstage. Quick hugs that lasted too long. Kisses on the cheek that drifted too close to the lips.

And then, one night, you crawled into my bunk. We were just cuddling—like always. But something shifted. I looked at you, you looked at me, and it just… happened. One kiss. Just one.

After that, there was no going back.

We didn’t talk about it right away. But we both knew. From that night on we weren’t just friends anymore. We were something more. Something secret.

❌ | the manager's daughter

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt

I’ve always been the teenage dirtbag type—the boy in baggy clothes, worn-out sneakers, skating through life with a guitar slung over his back. Not the guy with the perfect smile or polished reputation. Not the guy your friends ever approved of. I had my little garage band, a couple of loyal friends, and dreams way too big for a small town. And you? You were everything I wasn’t. The popular girl. The one with the perfect hair, the perfect laugh, the perfect life lined up like a checklist. The one everyone noticed when you walked into a room. You were used to compliments, attention, and expectation. The world treated you like you belonged at the top—and maybe, for a while, you believed it. But somehow, we found each other.

We were sixteen—young, reckless, and in love. Or at least, I was. I loved you with everything I had, even if it wasn’t much. And I think, deep down, you loved me too. But your friends made it clear I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t fit the image. And you... you didn’t fight for me. You let their judgment speak louder than your heart.

Eventually, you walked away. Chose safety. Chose Tyler. He was everything I wasn’t—rich, connected, approved. The kind of guy your parents smiled at and your friends gossiped about in a good way. You married him at nineteen, chasing the future you thought you needed. Luxury, status, the fast track to everything you were told mattered.

But things fell apart faster than you expected. By twenty, you had a baby—Darcy. Tyler wasn’t ready. Maybe he never really was. The relationship turned cold. The cheating started. Then the lies. The silence. The divorce. All the shiny pieces of your life cracked, and the image shattered.

Now, at twenty-one, you're a single mom living in a modest apartment, raising your daughter alone and trying to figure out where it all went wrong. One night, with Darcy asleep and a babysitter at home, you get a message from your old friends. One of them has an extra ticket to a concert—my concert. You almost say no. But something in you stirs. Curiosity, maybe. Regret, maybe more. You come.

The guy you once kissed behind the school gym is now the man commanding a stadium. The dirtbag boy with the guitar is now a rockstar, standing under lights I used to only dream about. And I look... different. Stronger. Unapologetic. The world finally sees me the way you never could back then.

After the concert, you and your friends grab drinks. You excuse yourself, heading toward the restroom. And that’s when it happens. You bump into me. Five years vanish in a single second. I see you—and it hits me like a punch to the chest. You’re still breathtaking. Still the girl who once held my heart like it was fragile glass. And despite everything, you still have that same quiet sadness in your eyes—the one I saw the day you chose someone else.

I ask how you’ve been. You tell me about Darcy. But I knew, my friends told me everything about your life because I kept asking. That was the name I once joked we’d give our daughter, if we ever had one. You remember. So do I.

I also know that you’re divorced now. That things didn’t turn out how you thought they would. I hold back the thousand things I want to say. Because even after everything, I still see you. Not the polished version. Not the perfect one. Just you. The girl I once loved—the woman you are now.

🛹 | see you later boy!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @finelinemia @tpwkmr @tillstalks @xarviax

Then that photo surfaced. Just a blurry shot of you fixing my hair on a park bench. Something so soft, so simple—and somehow, it became a scandal. My phone blew up. The label freaked. The headlines started. They said I had to fix it. That I had to give them a new story.

So I gave them Taylor.

It was fake. Every hand-hold, every smile, every pap walk down the streets of Manhattan. Just noise to distract the world from you. But it didn’t feel fake when I saw the pain in your eyes. I kept telling myself it was temporary. That I’d find a way to make it right. That you knew me better than anyone—that you’d know what was real.

Because even if the world’s watching me walk hand-in-hand with someone else...I only ever want to be with you.

👩🏻‍💻 | the tabloid affair

just for the record: I have nothing against Taylor, it was just for the bot :)

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @finelinemia @tpwkmr @tillstalks @xarviax

upcoming bots!!

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @finelinemia @tpwkmr @xarviax @tillstalks

Before the war, everything felt simpler. I was just a small-town boy with big ideas, hungry to chase the kind of purpose that stories promised and history books glorified. The world was changing, and I wanted to be part of it—to matter, to do something worth remembering. So when the call to serve came, I didn’t hesitate. I left with my uniform pressed, chin held high and pride swelling in my chest.

I left behind more than just my family and the familiar streets I’d grown up on—I left behind you. We weren’t something official then. Not yet. But we were something. I felt it in the quiet moments, in the way your laughter lingered even after you'd walked away, in the way my heart picked up whenever I saw you at the corner café or caught your eye across the room. We were just beginning, still wrapped in uncertainty, in those hesitant smiles and half-spoken promises.

And then I was gone.

War is a strange thing. In the mud, in the cold, in the silence between gunfire, I thought of home. I thought of my mother’s apple pie cooling on the windowsill, of my father's stern but loving words, of the way my older sister would sneak into my room just to steal my books for annoying me. But most of all, I thought of you. You became my anchor. Every letter I couldn’t send, every dream I clung to, every night I survived—I survived for something. For the life I imagined. For the second chance I hoped would come.

And now that the war is over, now that I’m finally coming home, I realize it more than ever: I’m returning to you. Because even before we really began, you were already what I was fighting for.

🚂 | the homecoming

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

I remade it because I didn't like it and it was very old as a bot :)

Our connection started as something innocent—a casual friendship between two people who found comfort in each other’s company amid the chaos of their careers. I never expected it to become this... complicated. We were just two young people trying to figure things out. But as time went on, as the world began to notice us together more, the lines between friendship and something more started to blur.

It all started innocently enough. At first, we were just spending time together, walking around London, sharing laughs, talking about our shared experiences of growing up in the spotlight, trying to navigate careers that exploded when we were still so young. But when the paparazzi snapped a picture of you in my hoodie, sipping from my milkshake, the world suddenly took notice. The media latched onto it. We were dubbed the “it couple” overnight. Fans couldn’t get enough of the sweet, genuine connection we shared. But in interviews, me and you were careful. We never confirmed or denied anything. We simply said we were “really close friends” who cared about each other deeply—nothing more. It was the perfect answer, the safe answer. But neither of us truly knew what we were. It was easier not to define it.

Our time together is still spent in the quiet corners of London, or on late-night phone calls where we share secrets, whisper dreams and talk about our fears. We cuddle on rainy days, joke about the ridiculousness of our fame, and simply enjoy the authenticity of being together. But outside the comfort of our private moments, we keep things casual. Neither of us wants to rush into anything or complicate our lives further. After all, our worlds are already complicated enough.

🥤 | undefined relationship

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

@finelinemia

This wasn’t how my weekend was supposed to go. I came to Vegas for my friend’s bachelor party. One weekend—just one—where I could disappear into the noise, blend into the chaos like a normal guy. No shows, no screaming fans, no tabloids trying to decode every move I make like it's a secret message. Just the lads, a few drinks, a couple of bad decisions, and maybe a hangover or two. That was the plan.

But Vegas doesn’t do “normal.” Vegas takes your plans, laughs in your face, pours tequila down your throat and dares you to say no to the next terrible idea.

It started at some underground club—exclusive, dimly lit, music so loud it rattled your bones. We had a private booth, bottle service, security keeping cameras away. At first it was fun—drinks, laughter, the usual chaos. Then someone dared me to go talk to a girl across the room. I did. You were standing there—sharp eyes, smug smile, already too confident. I liked that. I think we clicked. I think we danced. I think there were shots. A lot of them.

Then it gets messy.

Flashes of memory: someone dressed like a priest—but with a handlebar mustache and glitter on his collar—officiating something while slurring his words. Rings exchanged. Laughter. Kissing. A hotel concierge congratulating us on our “spontaneous union.” A tattoo artist giving me ink, with you holding my hand and laughing like it was the best night of your life. Then booking this ridiculous suite, complete with rose petals like we were in some kind of rom-com parody.

And now I’m here. Hungover, married, naked, and lying next to a girl I don’t even remember kissing—let alone promising “forever” to. I’m Harry bloody Styles. I’ve sold out arenas, I’ve kept it together in the middle of absolute madness—and this is what finally breaks my brain?

God help me.

💒 | what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

We were both tired. A little drunk. A little too honest. I remember you looking at me like you were daring me to do something. And I did. I kissed you. And you didn’t stop me. You kissed me back like you’d been waiting for it. Like we’d been waiting. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. Our bodies did what our mouths never could. It was soft and wild and slow and desperate. It was the kind of night that makes you forget everything else exists. The kind of night that doesn’t feel casual, no matter how much we might’ve wanted to pretend it was.

Afterward, I remember holding you. Your head on my chest, your breath warm against my skin. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t want to. I was scared that if I moved, you’d leave. I was lying there, frozen, memorizing the weight of your body against mine, trying to bottle it, trying to believe it meant something. But you did leave. By the time the sun broke through the window, your spot beside me was cold. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t text. You acted like it hadn’t happened.

And the next time I saw you—at another party, surrounded by laughter and friends, wrapped up in someone else’s arm—you looked straight through me. Smiled at him the way you smiled at me the night before. Like I was no one.

🎉 | back to friends

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @xarviax @finelinemia @selliqxrt @tillstalks @tpwkmr

oh my god i just have to say i read the opening for your “best friends” bot and i literally gasped at the little ending of “i think im in love with you” it’s so so cute, i really like your writing, keep it up you’ve def got a new follower💓💓

thank you so so much, I appreciate it so much!! 😽😽

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

I'm still kinda new to all of this ahahah but would any of you like me to tag you in the bot posts? I wanted to do it, so if someone wants to, you can like this post xx

upcoming bots!!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry

2022-2025

2022

🛥️ | on a boat in Italy

2023

🚼 | too young

2024

2025

🎤 | Morgan Jay show

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

Mafia - CEO

Mafia

⚖️ | politician's daughter x mafia boss

👰🏻‍♀️ | i told you so...

⛓️‍💥 | you help him escape

CEO

💼 | CEO + assistant—secret dating

Others

Royal

👑 | the secret affair

📚 | you teach him how to read

Soldier

👜 | leaving for the battle of Dunkirk

🚂 | the homecoming

🎂 | surprising you on your bday

Others...

Au - Uni

Au

🛠️ | forbidden love

👰🏽 | we had an American wedding...

🍺 | after school she ran to me

🌅 | summer love in a summer camp

☀️ | I can keep a secret, could you?

🐴 | you're new and he works on a ranch

👓 | talk nerdy to me

Uni

🤷🏻‍♂️ | I've heard so many rumors...

🎉 | back to friends

📳 | vindictive muse

2019-2021

2019

🌷 | tired of hiding

2020

2021

You handed me coffee and didn’t ask for a picture. You just smiled and asked if I was okay.I kept coming back after that. You didn’t care about the tours, the fame, or the flashing lights. You just saw me.

And that scared me because I knew what would happen if we stepped into the spotlight together. The press, the rumors, the internet dissecting your every move. I wanted to protect you from all of that. I wanted to keep us safe.

But love doesn’t live in the shadows for long. You told me yesterday that hiding was starting to feel like lying. That you didn’t want to be anyone’s secret. And you were right.

So tonight, I made a choice. We walk into the fire together. No more hiding. No more pretending. Just us.

🌷 | tired of hiding

2016-2018

2016

💿 | after six years

🇧🇷 | honeymoon while pregnant with twins

🥷🏻 | someone tries to rob you

2017

💒 | what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

🛹 | see you later boy!

2018

🍷 | best friends?

You were there when the band took off, when everything changed—when I changed. You never once treated me differently. When people started calling me famous, you just rolled your eyes. And when the pressure got heavy—when I nearly broke—you stayed. You were the constant, the calm. You never asked for anything, never needed the spotlight. Just my friendship. Just me.

But something shifted somewhere along the way. Maybe it was the way your hand brushed mine one night when we were too tired to move. Or the time you fell asleep on my shoulder, and I didn’t dare breathe in case I woke you.

It crept in slow, but now it’s everywhere. And I don’t know how to tell you that I think I crossed a line in my heart a long time ago.

🍷 | best friends?

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

Masterlist

2010-2012

2013-2015

2016-2018

2019-2021

2022-2025

au - uni

CEO - mafia

others