Harry held a bowl of fruit in his lap, whilst his eyes stayed glued to the TV. He could hear you washing up in the kitchen, soft melodies coming from your lips as you had his phone playing on the speaker he had set up out there; he always loved coming home from the studio to you dancing and swaying your hips as you waltzed around the kitchen with some random tunes playing from speakers. He would always stand in the doorway of the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest with his bulky coat still settled on his body, his shoulder rested against the doorframe and his eyes glued to you oblivious figure. Along with the soft melodies leaving your lips, he could hear the constant scrub of the washing up brush against the ceramic and the drips of water coming from the tap.
When he offered to do the washing up, you immediately told him to take a break, like you had done since he’d fallen ill. Yes, you both went to the Ed concert together, but you still worried that there was some hint of an illness still lingering in his body. As you prepared him cubed fruit, something your mother had always done when you were partially ill, he stood by the counter and watched. His bottom lip lodged between his teeth as he held back a smirk, his eyes trailing up and down your body as you hummed lightly to yourself.
His mind still couldn’t focus upon the fact that he was marrying you; his sweet, caring and beautiful (Y/N). Ever since you’d said yes to him, he felt like he’d fallen so in love with you that it was impossible to even imagine on a large scale how much love he had in his body. There were times when he wished that everything would speed up so he could call you ‘missus’ with true meaning behind it compared to when he said it jokingly; yet there were times when he wished that everything would slow down so he could cherish every living moment with you without worrying about ageing or getting any older, because that was something he feared; the fact that the longer he spent waiting to marry you, the quicker it was getting to the end of his life. And he wanted his life right now to continue being filled with you, and the future Styles children that he knew you’d been thinking of recently.
The past 5 years of his life had been amazing, and you could both really tell that you made each other better. Yes, you had your worse days together when everything and anything would set a trigger of emotions off, but the time after was always filled with apologies and cuddles and kisses and a little bit of make-up sex, which Harry had always said was his favourite thing about fighting. Louis would always complain how lovesick you were and now that his relationship was no more, he began to feel lonely. But he never let you know it. Niall was beginning to get the feeling of settling down burying into the pit of his stomach, and his mind was always wandering as he thought about his future life. Sophia would continuously moan with jealous when you and Harry were together because she was envious of how well the both of you clicked. Her and Liam were the cutest, everyone told them that, but she was envious that the two of you never fought as much or argued about petty things; you and Harry had a tendency to just agree with one another on anything.
As the 8 o’clock showing of F.R.I.E.N.D.S began to show, he heard the music turn off from the room next door and the gargling sound of water exiting the sink through the plug hole, and he felt a smile tug on his cheeks. Harry liked to sit back and relax at this time of night with his blanket thrown over the both of you, and your body settled between his legs as he laid adjacent to the sofa cushions settled on the back of the sofa. His leg was bent up and resting against the cushion as he other encased you between his thighs, your back pressed tightly to his sometimes bare chest. F.R.I.E.N.D.S was something the both of you had bonded over when you first met and it was a tradition you both had when it came to cuddling on the sofa and being all loved up. You were never pissed off when he said the famous phrases before they did, and neither did Harry get pissed when you did the same.
“Which one is it, H?” You wondered, your voice soft as you called from the adjacent room. His ears perked up, as he held the strawberry from his lips, and threw his head back against the back of the sofa, and sleepy smile on his face.
“It’s the one with Monica and Chandler’s wedding,” he called back, and he could hear you squeal softly. It was your favourite episode, no doubt, and the recent series they’d been playing on TV had really helped with the initial planning to the wedding you’d been planning yourself, along with Harry’s input. “Are you almost done? I feel you’ve been slaving away in the kitchen. I wanted to help,” he muttered, as you poked your head around the doorframe and threw a banana at him. A giggle escaping your lips as he placed it in the fruit bowl on the coffee table, and arranged the fruit neatly to match what was added.
“Almost. I can’t get the wine stain out of the table cloth,” you whined, as you tightened the ponytail at the back of your head, strands falling loosely down your face in soft yet matted tendrils. “If you didn’t spill the red wine at dinner, I’d be sat cuddling you right now,” you winked, as he started to stand up, his free hand reaching for the remote as he paused the TV and shuffled into the kitchen. His too long tracksuit bottoms covered his feet as he stepped foot on the cool kitchen floor tiles, and his eyes squinting as he adjusted to the bright lights of the room.
“You put the wine glass by my elbow. Of course I would. I’m clumsy, you know that,” he chuckled, walking over to the sink and turning the tap on to wash the fruit remnants from inside the bowl. “You cut my cubed fruit really well, ya’know? Another reason as to why you’re my favourite missus in the whole wide world,” Harry laughed, scrubbing away at the strawberry juice dried around the rim, along with the pips and seeds from the watermelon.
“Favourite missus, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t I tell you? My other one dropped my boot in her pool. Yeah, I think I’m going to divorce her and just have a good life with you, ya’know?” He teased, as you gasped and gave his bum a slap. “I’m kidding! I love you. You’re my only missus. And even if you dropped my shoe in our pool, I wouldn’t divorce you. I’d just tie you up and have my way with you,” he teased smoothly, and bumped his hip against yours as he reached over for the towel to dry his bowl up. As he moved across you, a waft of his cologne and his shower gel made its way into your nostrils and you shuddered at the thought of it. It was a smell that made your stomach all fluttery and fuzzy yet it was a smell you could never get bored of. The Tom Ford cologne you always brought him for his birthday or for Christmas was one he used a lot, and the smell was divine.
“At least I know to leave your boots alone then,” you winked, wrapping your arm around his hips and smiling when he threw his arm over your shoulders. “Can I go get the F.R.I.E.N.D.S boxset from upstairs? I think we should have a marathon night, and talk about the wedding. The series they’ve been playing on TV has sparked some ideas in my mind,” you grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek; his freshly shaven cheeks that felt smooth and soft, like a baby’s bum.
“Of course we can do that. Wouldn’t want to spend my night any other way,” Harry smiled, removing his arm from your shoulders so he could bend down to the counter to his right and place the bowl in with the others. The clinking ceramic making you cringe as he knocked the bowls against one another. “I’ve been thinking about stuff for the wedding as well… I’ve got some things in my journal about venues and whatnot. Can we, uhm, have a look at them?” He wondered shyly, as he straightened back and cupped your elbows in his large palms, the rings on his fingers cool against your flushed and heated skin.
“Of course we can, baby. Don’t be so shy about it, ya’know? It’s your wedding as well, okay?” You smiled, treading on the upside of his sock covered feet and hooking your fingers together at the nape of his neck. His hair was freshly washed and soft as you touched it, almost feeling like it wasn’t there; it was that feather soft.
“I know, I just… It makes me feel all jittery and excited and I can’t help feel like a little girl,” he laughed, his fruity breath fanning your face making you feel cool yet warm at the same time. He never liked to admit it, but when he was just a young boy of 8-9, he’d always thought about what it was like to get married. He wondered how everything went to plan and how it all worked out. But the age of 14-15, he felt like he wanted that more than anything in the world. With his life fairly boring as it was back then, his mind couldn’t help but wander to the future life ahead of him. By 18, when he’d met you, he knew you were the one. With no past experiences of having a girlfriend feeling like how he felt when he met you, he knew you were someone he needed to keep hold of. His mother told him that. Gemma told him that. And even his grandfather told him that. “I know it sounds girly, but it’s true. Like, I never had an out-there lifestyle. I was always at home with mum, and just having nights in. You know how I am,” he whispered lowly.
The media had always made him out to be the party animal, along with Louis, but that was what the media only ever saw. They always enjoyed getting him out at bars or pubs and clubs, and they never bothered getting photos of him when he was walking into the supermarkets or shops. You knew what he was really like. Where the photographers get the outside the building stuff, they don’t get the inside the building stuff; Harry was a much more light weighed guy when it came to drinking, especially when you came out with him. He liked to stay sober so if there were problems, he could sort them out for you. The media only ever presumed he was drunk when he exited the buildings, rather than sober and looking after a drunken girl he called his girlfriend.
They never got the behind the scenes look into his life, and quite frankly, he was pleased. He liked to have his life behind his front door secret and away from the attention, so he could have pleasant time with his family and have downtime with you.
“I know, baby. I know the real you, I do,” you smiled, bringing your hands from his neck to his cheeks and running you thumbs beneath his eyes. “Now, let’s go and have a cuddle and have a look at your journal,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chin and stepping off his feet and back onto the cold tiles beneath you.
“I’ll go get the DVDs, and you get comfy on the sofa.”
* *
“Liam said they visited a town called Camberley when they went to their Surrey place back last year, and he said there were some great places there,” Harry stated, as you scanned the page of scrawny writing, ideas flitted across the page as he wrote aimlessly anything that came to his mind. “I mean, obviously, we don’t have to look there. It’s a bit far for everyone to travel too, so… It’s the same as Cheshire. I’d love to get married back home, because my roots are there,” he added, as he reached around from where your body was lodged between his legs and turned the page to where he’d written the name of the Cheshire venue. “It’s a venue my mum and Robin looked at when they were planning. I made sure to give her a ring and ask her what it was called,” he smiled.
“You bring up Cheshire a lot, ya’know? Is it somewhere where you really, really want to get married, H?” You asked, a little hope filling your voice as you scanned his face. His teeth found his lips as he brought the plump flesh between them. You couldn’t lie. Ever since the time he’d mentioned the Cheshire venues back nearly 5 weeks ago, your mind had always come to a countryside wedding. You couldn’t help but search the web when Harry had fallen asleep in a heap of covers and body beside you.
“It’s a definite maybe, babe. I mean, we could just have a small group for the ceremony, like 50 or so, and then we could get 200 at the after party slash reception party?” He wondered, as you nodded slowly and grabbed the pen tied at the binder of the journal. He watched as you wrote down the idea he’d had, and closed the cap with a click, bringing the top of the pen to yours lips and biting onto the plastic. “Is that a maybe?” He wondered, watching as you tilted your head back and gave him a tired smile.
“It’s a maybe,” you winked.
And in that moment, you were sure you saw a little sparkle twinkle in his eyes. Cheshire was in place.
“I think we should get married there. Or here,” you stated a while after, breaking the comfortable silence that was surrounding the both of you. The TV had been turned off, the both of you getting distracted as F.R.I.E.N.D.S seemed to get more interesting. “Cheshire is one place I’ve been thinking of, ever since you brought it up that one time we were sat in the kitchen. Like, it’s a beautiful little town and your original childhood is from there… It’s a place we should consider…”
“Go get my MacBook,” Harry whispered, giving your shoulders a shake. “We’ll have a look at some venues, call ‘em up and get some appointments booked to check them. Sound good?”
“Sounds very good indeed, Mister Styles.”
* *
(One Week Later)
The venues you’d been looking at just weren’t what the both of you had in mind. They either felt too old, too modern or just boring. And neither you nor Harry wanted boring. You wanted something that spoke to everyone. Some place that everyone remembered, and everyone was asking about. The Camberley venues weren’t your style, and neither were they Harry’s either, with them being too far from London as well, you figured that they just weren’t the place you were to be consuming your marriage in. The Croydon venues you’d looked at had a sudden spark to them, until you realised you weren’t able to have the venue when you wanted. With a July wedding, everyone was booking summer venues to have their weddings in. Great minds think alike, eh?
“We still have the one in Cheshire, babe. You’re stressing over nothing, okay? These feelings towards the recent venues are probably signs to say we should be booking the Cheshire one and not these ones in the towns,” Harry reasoned, as he drove down the motorway. Signs for Manchester and Cheshire being seen on the road signs and directional signs passing you every minute or so.
“You’re only saying that because you want to get married in Cheshire, Harry,” you muttered, staring out the window as the trees were becoming much more interesting to you at that moment. “I knew this would happen. You’d feel negative thoughts towards the majority of the London based venues just so we could have a venue booked in Cheshire. It’s a tactic, and quite frankly, I don’t like the games you play,” you hissed, adding a quick roll of your eyes. A confused look crossed Harry’s features as you pushed the hand he had resting on your thigh away, his hand falling limply to the seat beside your leg.
“Where’s this coming from, huh?” He groaned, bringing his hand to the gear stick to change the gear of the car he’d opted on taking for the journey. “You need to stop getting stressed; it’s not good for you.”
A grunt left your lips as you turned up the volume dial on the radio. You weren’t stressed, you were upset. Upset that you had nearly 5 months left to go and nothing had been booked and paid for yet. You wanted everything to run smoothly and with the added stresses of dress shopping and cake shopping, everything was starting to get the better of you.
“I’m not fucking stressed, Harry. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” you muttered, as he turned the volume of the radio down and looked across at you. “Can you just watch the road please, rather than me? I don’t want to die before my wedding day,” you hissed, and turned the dial back up.
“You know, you’re being very childish and pathetic right now. I’ve never seen someone accuse me of playing games to get my way. I can’t help it if I don’t feel comfortable in a venue, and I don’t want to feel uncomfortable on my wedding day. Just like you,” Harry hissed, stopping at the red traffic light. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t like the majority of those venues anyway, so don’t you dare blame me n all this. So, stop getting pissed off with me and grow up a little, yeah?”
And with that, the car fell into an eerie and awkward silence.
As the hours fell by, the car still stayed silent and the only sound was the tires crunching against the gravel of the venue as Harry pulled up in front of it. The venue owner already waiting with a smile on her face as he parked up beside her silver car. He looked to you, in hopes that you’d at least have a smile on your face, but his hopes fell when he saw that you had a dull and dead face upon your features. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe he took things a little too far in the car.
As he heard the car door bang shut for your force, a sigh left his lips and he clambered out himself. A fake smile plastered on his face as he walked over to the venue owner and introduced himself.
“Hi, there. I’m Harry and this is my fiancée, (Y/N),” he smiled, as he shook hands with the middle aged lady and sent her a swift and warming smile. He watched as your lips tugged into a fake smile before shaking her hand as well and dropping it instantly to your side; and Harry felt hurt. Hurt that you dropped your hand and immediately clenched it into a fist, to make sure he understood that you weren’t giving in so easily.
“It’s lovely to meet you both this lovely day. And may I say congratulations,” she smiled, and looked up to Harry. “My name is Evelyn, but you can call me Eve. I’m the owner of this venue,” she added. Her body turned to look at the building behind her, the sun catching the windows and glinting brightly. “This is Sandhole Oak Barn***, the only wedding barn venue in Cheshire. I believe your mother came to check out this venue for her wedding, didn’t she?” Eve smiled, as Harry nodded quickly and sent her a smile.
“I remember my sister sending me some photos, and it’s been stuck in my mind ever since. I mean, Cheshire is beautiful. I love it here, like, coming from around these areas as well,” Harry smiled, as Eve began to walk through the doors of the entrance. “She ended up going with the venue by my old home, because it felt more wedding-like to her, but I think this was definitely her second choice,” Harry smiled, looking down at you as you followed beside him. Your head turned the other way as you walked down the corridor towards the entrance hall.
“Now this here is the main hall, where it separates into different rooms. We have the dressing rooms at either side of the actual ceremonial hall. And then there is the reception hall where the buffet food and the wedding cake will be situated as soon as the ceremony has finished,” Eve smiled, as she made her way into the rooms for the bride and groom. “What are we thinking so far?” She wondered, as she looked to you. A frail yet warm smile on her face.
“I, uh… It’s nice,” you whispered, as you took a step into the bridal room, and looked around. The make-up dresser was settled in the corner, with a full wall mirror at the opposite wall. “Is this a popular venue, can I ask?” You gulped, and pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie, tucking them over your hands as you looked to Eve, ignoring any stares you received from Harry.
“It’s a popular-ish venue. We have a fair few every season. Summer is one of the main times we have a lot of weddings, so… If you’re thinking of here, you better get some price paid soon,” Eve said, as you closed your eyes and nodded, proceeding to exit the room without a single word leaving your lips. “The groom’s room is exactly like this, except there’s not a make-up dresser in there. There are chairs and a wardrobe for the suit jackets if they are needed to be taken off,” she added, as Harry nodded and closed the door as he left. “If you enter this room right here,” she started, as she pushed open the big, brown oak door. The brightly lit room came into view and you could feel your heart skip a beat.
It was truly beautiful.
The chairs were aligned neatly and covering in white fabric. The thin chiffon material tied to the backs of the chairs with bows neatly nestled at the base of the back of the chair. The aisle was laid out with a white fabric, and contrasted with the pink and orange colours on the chairs.
“Is it possible to change the colours of these chiffon-y bows?” You wondered, running your fingertips softly over the back of one chair near to you. A genuine smile laced onto your lips as you looked to Harry, watching as he gave you a wink. “It’s just, we were thinking of having a yellow and grey and black themed wedding,” you started, as Harry sided up to you and grinned when you laced your fingers with his.
“Of course we can. We can change these to any colour possible, (Y/N). That colour scheme will go really well with the white as well. That sounds beautiful,” Eve smiled.
* *
You fell to the swinging seat beneath the gazebo, Harry falling into the spot beside you. The lake was glistening beneath the orange sunset and ripples were forming in the water as leaves and bugs landed on the surface. The birds were tweeting and the clouds were in no sight in the sky. The chair began to swing as Harry pushed with his feet planting on the decking below, his arm placed around your shoulders as he pulled you into his side.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier, in the car,” he whispered, dropping his head to yours and closing his eyes, letting the cool air wash over his tanned and inked arms. “I didn’t mean it. I know this is stressing you out, and I hate seeing you so upset and worked up. I know you want a perfect wedding venue for a perfect wedding, and I set to get those wants right,” he added, smiling when you pressed a palm to his thigh.
“I’m sorry for going all like that. Just a small peek into my bridezilla moments,” you giggled. You knew they were coming. It was possibly impossible to not have a bridezilla moment when planning a wedding, and you knew it. With you being with Harry for a few years up to the point his mum and Robin got married, you’d gotten a view into how stressful weddings could be. No matter how small the matter could be, a bridezilla moment could erupt at any moment.
“How do you feel about this venue?” His deep voice wondered, laced with sleep and lust and love.
“I love this one, Harry. It’s beautiful,” you whispered, yawning softly as you fell limp against his chest, sleep wanting to take over your body. “Did you hear what Eve said earlier? Summer is the time when everyone books weddings here. I think we should book this. We both love it. It’s great. And unique. We should book this and get it for July 18th,” you grinned, as he lifted his head from yours and looked down at you. A grin on his lips as you nodded in confirmation.
“We have a venue…”

Notes