#harry styles fanficton

[cupid-styles]

casual

partially based on casual by chappell roan and a lil bit of sad personal experience hehe

word count: 2k

content warnings: angst (no happy ending), references to smut, alcohol, harry being a douche, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

From: H (12:47 a.m.)

Come over?

To: H (12:50 a.m.)

Give me 15

From: H (12:52 a.m.)

K

. . .

It’s not unusual for her nights to look like this. Or her early mornings, rather.

It wasn’t always this way. When she first met Harry, she wanted nothing to do with him romantically or intimately. She’d heard about his reputation — it wasn’t anything bad as long as you were looking for the same thing. He was an expert in bed and the friends that slept with him always provided rave reviews. Ever excited rumblings of, “oh my God, he’s so caring! He made me finish twice before he even took his cock out” and “he’s the perfect one night stand — seriously, I’ve never had anyone better.” 

But Y/N didn’t care for that.

She was a serial monogamous, always bumping around from one lengthy relationship to the next. In hindsight, she supposes she wasn’t any better than Harry, who earned his notoriety from a series — a long series — of casual hookups. 

If you needed a rebound, you went to Harry.

If you were going through a dry spell, you went to Harry.

If you were just horny and needed someone to go home with at the end of the night (and he hadn’t miraculously already found somebody else yet), you went to Harry.

And Y/N never planned to sleep with him. Ever, really. He was a fine friend, someone who mixed well with their mutual friends, but they hardly exchanged conversation except for the occasional nicetie. She had his phone number from when he planned Rachel’s surprise birthday party last year and they were friends on Venmo, passing back the same $20 every month for drinks or a shared Uber. 

That was the extent of their friendship. 

Until a few months back, when Y/N was down in the dumps. She’d been seeing this girl, Samantha, for a month or two, assuming that they were headed straight towards a happy, exclusive relationship — only to discover that Samantha was sleeping with and seeing just about 10 other people on the side. And it only came out because Samantha happened to contract chlamydia from one of her sexual partners, so she’d been forced to tell Y/N for the sake of her health.

Y/N's friends, Rachel, Maeve, and Len gave her time to wallow. They offered it to her on a silver platter, even, offering multiple girls nights out (and in), providing Y/N all the space she needed to cry and complain and talk about how hurt she felt. 

But then… a week of moping turned into two, which turned into three, which eventually turned into a month and a half. Her friends were exhausted from watching her spiral into sadness, so they did the only thing they knew: They sat her down and told her she needed to rebound. Fast.

“And who the hell am I supposed to rebound with?” Y/N asked through a sniffle. The only thing that made this whole thing worse was her friends staging an intervention for her because she was being annoyingly sad about her not-really-breakup-but-felt-like-a-breakup. “See, that’s the best part of being friends with a man whore,” Maeve replied eagerly. Len and Rachel sat on either side of her with bright eyes, nodding excitedly. “Harry! He already said he’s down and everything!” “Wait— you already asked him?” “We just put the idea in his head. Don’t worry, men are stupid,” Len quickly waved her off, “But he’s going out with everyone tonight. We’ll feed you a few shots to get you just buzzy enough, and then send you off to your night in heaven. You won’t even remember that girl’s name by the time Harry’s done with you!” Y/N cringed. “Hasn’t, like… everyone slept with him though?” Maeve shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s clean. He gets regular testing and uses condoms. Really, Y/N, it’s sort of a rite of passage at this point. But you should do it only if you’re comfortable— don’t let us force you into it.” Y/N swallowed tightly. She had to admit, the thought of a rebound sounded… appealing. She’d swiped through dating apps looking for one, but she was too scared that a one night stand would end in her bloody murder. And it helped that Harry already knew what he was doing, and— wait, was she crazy or was she actually starting to consider this? “Alright, fine,” she replied with a shaky exhale, “Let’s do this.”

That was four months ago.

And what was supposed to be an evening of stupid, lusty, casual sex turned into Y/N falling hard. It wasn’t her fault, though — no, not when he panted breathy promises into her mouth in the back of the Uber, mumblings of “just tonight, you know that, right?”. She’d replied just how she’d rehearsed it in her brain hours prior: “yes, yeah, I know— just tonight. Just for tonight.” 

"Just for tonight" shifted into Harry asking her to stay until the morning for breakfast and shower sex. Then, the following weekend, he texted her the ever classy you still awake? at just past midnight. She was indeed up, doing nothing but rotting on her couch and watching a documentary about the deep sea — and her hookup with Harry had been good, really good, and she wasn’t going to turn down another night of orgasms. 

As he wrapped a condom around his dick and pressed messy kisses down her neck, he whispered the same hurried sentiments from the weekend before: “didn’t see anyone I wanted tonight and we were good, yeah? It was good. So just… just one more night, okay? That’s fine, right?” 

Foolishly, with flittering eyelashes and her nails scraping down her back as he pushed inside, she nodded and echoed his words. Just one more night, that’s fine.

It didn’t take long for their friends to catch on when Harry would leave the bar an hour early without looking for someone to take home. Or, when they’d both be out and, like magnets slowly being pulled towards one another, they’d end up kissing on the street as they waited for an Uber to take them back to Harry’s place. 

The guys hounded Harry about it, asking if Y/N was finally the one to tie him down.

“Nah,” he’d reply with a shake of his head, “She’s a good girl. Too good for me.”

When Y/N’s friends demanded to know every last detail, she shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. It's... good, I think."

They only responded with small, tight smiles.

. . .

“Your mom texted me today. She invited us to come see them this weekend.”

Harry doesn’t reply — or rather, he makes an unassuming humming noise — as he gets out of Y/N’s bed, untangling his naked form from her sheets. He hunts down his briefs and pulls them on before stretching his arms out. 

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks, grabbing her tee-shirt off the floor and tossing it to her. She sits up, tightening the sheet around her chest. She shakes her head as she clutches the fabric of her shirt in her hands and watches him scroll on his phone.

“No. I thought we could get something.”

Harry hums again, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. Swallowing, Y/N puts her shirt back on. She’s not sure why, but she always feels oddly vulnerable once they’ve finished hooking up. When she’s still naked and he’s already moved onto the next thing, like having plans with the guys or taking a shower before he heads home. She'd even purchased his favorite body wash and shampoo when he started sticking around a bit longer, but he'd never even mentioned it or uttered a thank you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he finally replies. He locks his phone and places it back on the ledge of the TV stand in her bedroom. The simple act makes her heart jump — usually, he’ll stuff his phone in his pocket as he’s leaving. Maybe he was planning on staying the night. “So listen, I know I took you to dinner at my parents’ place that one time, but I don’t really feel comfortable with you talking to my mom.”

Y/N furrows her brows in confusion. “She texted me, H. I don’t, like, regularly reach out to her.”

“Right, but it just makes this whole thing feel way more serious than it is.” he says, sitting back down on the bed. He maintains a steady distance between them and it makes a small lump form in Y/N’s throat. 

“Okay,” she murmurs slowly, “That’s fine, I get it. But… we never really talked about what this is.”

Harry glances up with wide, confused eyes. “We’ve said it a million times, Y/N. This is casual. Completely and totally casual sex.”

An ugly, involuntary chortle leaves her chest. He raises his eyebrows.

“We’ve been fucking for four months. That’s not really casual.”

“Yes, it is. It’s friends with benefits.”

“Sure, maybe, but that’s if you explicitly outline that you’re just having sex. No feelings involved.”

“We did that.”

“When?”

“At the beginning,” Harry responds. He seems frustrated now, but it feels as though he’s recalling a memory that Y/N was never even around for. “Remember? I told you, it was all just for tonight type shit. Nothing real.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me to your parents’ house two months ago?” Y/N demands, anger rising in her chest, “And why am I your date to all of your stupid, boring work events? And why the hell are you at my house like four times a week, and why do you have a drawer full of my clothes at your place?”

“Y/N—”

“This isn’t fucking casual, Harry. This is dating. You’re dating me and you don't even realize it.”

“I would know if I was dating you, but I never asked you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, you know that.”

She groans and shakes her head, ignoring the way her jaw already aches from clenching it so hard. She grabs a clear pair of underwear from her drawer and quickly slips them on. Harry’s silent the entire time.

Suddenly, she whips around and faces him. “Have you been fucking other people?” 

A wrinkle forms between his brows. He shakes his head.

“No. I wouldn’t do that, and it’s unsafe.”

“Right,” she murmurs, placing her hands on her hips, “So piece it together, Harry. Neither of us are sleeping with other people. We’re exclusively seeing one another.”

“You’re just making this out to be way more of a thing than it is—”

“Oh, fuck off!” she exclaims, “You have a key to my house! That’s pretty serious!”

“I didn’t ask you for that!” he fires back as he stands up from the bed. They’re in a stand-off now, staring at one another with angry eyes. She snorts and shakes her head in disbelief.

“My friends were so fucking right about you. You’re such an asshole. You know Maeve called me a loser for thinking you were a good guy?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone and sweater, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They don’t exchange any other words as he leaves her room. She sits back down on the edge of the mattress, listening as he stuffs his feet in his sneakers and slams the front door shut. She doesn’t even notice that tears are lining her eyes and falling onto the apples of her cheeks.

. . .

It’s barely 48 hours later when Y/N’s watching a YouTube video as she stands in the bathroom, doing her nighttime routine.

Like four months prior, when she hoped Harry would be a good rebound for her heartbreak, she's been moping around in self-hatred and sadness. She's in awe of how cruel and oblivious he's being, but more than that, she can't believe she actually believed he had real feelings for her. Ones that extended beyond sex.

She’s brushing her teeth when she notices a text notification come down, redirecting her attention from the influencer vlog to read the name of the sender. She taps on it to see a familiar initial.

From: H (10:32 p.m.)

Sorry for what I said. Can I come over?

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanficton #harry styles one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles one-shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry's house #⭐️ #yes I just had to re-size that banner and reupload

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One That Got Away - Part 1

A.N- This is one of my first series that I wrote after a long hiatus and I am just getting back to it. I hope who ever comes along for this journey, they enjoy it. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts, ideas, opinions. Enjoy!

Summary: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone?

Word Count: 2.9 K

.......................................................................................................................

Alena

Pain. 

Pain is something that is different to everyone but to me, it's caused by the distress and lack of control I feel as though I have in my life. I’m pained that I am not able to give my daughter the best life that she absolutely deserves. It pains me that she doesn’t have a two parent household, because growing up neither did I and I vowed everything inside of me that when the day came I had a child that I would pick the utmost perfect partner that would stick around and be madly love with me in which we would make a life for ourselves and have that happy ever after - but unfortunately those cards were not on the table for me. 

I live a pretty generic life I would say. I work a 9-5 as a social media manager and editor for a top design magazine, I have a tight knit friend group, as well as a dog and a house and a daughter. I’m not the crazy going out type of girl, or the hook-up kind of girl. I keep to myself, take care of my daughter and live life to the best of my ability. 

-

It’s an early Monday morning which means I need to get myself ready for work as well as my daughter ready for school. I am lucky enough to be able to work most of my days from home and the office is used as an as-needed basis especially since I am a single parent. I’ve never been one to take “ the easy way out” but I sure as hell will take advantage of situations that do benefit me. 

My chestnut brown hair falling down my back as soon as I get out of bed, one quick look in the mirror and I can say thank the Lord himself that I work from home today. Over the years my hair has become unruly and quite the challenge to maintain. My skin slightly goose bumped due to the slight breeze in my bedroom, thanks to my ceiling fan. My feet are cold against the hardwood floors in my home, and I almost curse myself for not having enough carpet or rug in my room - when first purchasing my home I swore that carpet would not be part of the home's aesthetic but I would be young and dumb and would refuse to go back. 

“ Good morning Sunshine” is my go-to for waking my daughter up in the morning, unfortunately my daughter is not a morning person - a trait that she picked up from her father. Her emerald green eyes stayed hidden from me as she did her absolute best to try and stay asleep as she knew that it was time to get up and ready for school. 

“ It’s time to get up, Bubs, how are you going to become an Astronaut princess if you don’t go to school?” my arms embrace my daughter as I gently pick her up and walk her into the bathroom. 

“ Mommy, my tummy hurts.” my froggy 5 year old croaked. Now that I think of it… she does feel a bit warm. I was lucky enough that she was typically an energetic child who looked forward to going to school and meeting her friends, another trait she got from her father, however, today seems to be different. I placed her down on the edge of the sink and placed my hand onto her forehead as she seemed to be burning up. I do my best to be a fair and strict parent, so I can instill a routine and boundaries but it wouldn’t be fair to send her to school like this.

“ It’s okay, Bubs. Why don’t you stay home today and rest up. Why don’t we give you a bath and you can lay down next to mommy while she works, yeah?” I make my way over to the tub and start running a bubble bath for her to enjoy. “ Stay still, mommy will text daddy so he knows not to pick you up from school later.” 

Texting my daughter's father isn’t my least favorite thing to do, but I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite by any means either. There is so much built up pain and history even when I see his name pop-up on my phone or even see a picture posted of him. Harry Styles. My childhood best friend, my first crush, my first love and my first heartbreak. How is it possible for one person to be so many of my firsts? Some would say that Harry & I ended on a mutual note but it doesn’t mean that it hurt any less. We did our best to try the long distance thing while we tried finding ourselves in college but one thing led to another and it didn’t last. After agreeing to end things, we met-up one night and one thing led to another and a few weeks later I found out that I’m pregnant. Harry is an amazing father and I couldn’t ask for anyone better for my daughter, but he was not a good partner. He often slept around, could not commit to anyone and played every girl like the fiddle. We tried once more after Aria was born but that is when he was unfaithful and would stay out late and it's almost as if his whole personality changed.I guess people do change while in college and even after. 

“ Hey H, Bub’s isn’t feeling well. I’m going to keep her home with me today so no need to pick her up from school… thanks :)” I place my phone back down onto the counter and get Aria undressed for her bath. While allowing Aria to play around a bit in the bubbles I notice my phone has none stop been going off. 2 missed calls from Harry & 4 text messages. He’s so over dramatic. My phone rings again, before I could even say hello he gets his word in: 

“ What the hell, why haven’t you answered your phone?” I could sense his annoyance over the phone. 

“ Because I am bathing our daughter and I believe her cleanliness is more important than  worrying about my phone” I could see his eyes rolling already. 

“ What’s wrong with her? What happened?” His concern for Aria is something I could admire and could almost push past all the horrible things he has done to me in the past. 

“ Harry, she’s sick. She’s around other sick kids almost everyday… it was practically bound to happen. She’ll be fine in no time… she just needs to rest for the day and drink fluids and cuddle. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to your precious angel.” The last sentiment of my statement to Harry was meant more as sarcasm but in all honesty, she really is an angel and couldn't ask for a more perfect child. 

“ Erm, yeah.. Okay. Can I stop over after work later on? I can pick up some dinner for us three and maybe watch a movie with her…” I can sense the hesitation in his voice. Harry and I had an agreement that we would be civil parents for Aria, but I would prefer to not have “family hangouts” as much as I could avoid it. As much as I wanted a two-parent household for my daughter, I refused to confuse her anymore and give her a false hope that Harry and I would ever get back together. However, there are some exceptions to this rule and tonight is one of them. One thing I hold my ground on is never holding Harry back with Aria or anytime he wants to spend with her. 

“ That would be nice, Har… thank you. Just let me know what time you think you’ll be over later on tonight, and remember.…her bed times  9:00 PM” a gentle smile plastered on my face when I look back over at my daughter while she plays with the bubbles in her bath. 

“ Of course, give her a kiss for me to hold her off until I get there” before I could even say goodbye the line drops. 

-

The day was filled with many email correspondences, phone calls as well as planning for the upcoming next few months. Being the lead editor for one of the top design magazines in the country was no easy job by any means, but my passion and dedication for the job was what makes it all worth it. I’ve been very fortunate as well to have a very understanding team behind me which were my top supporters, and they absolutely adore Aria. 

Besides all of the work I needed to attend to, cuddles and a napping child were on my top priority list as well. I mostly worked from my couch today, which I excuse to my child being needy because she wasn’t feeling well but I would be lying to say that I just didn’t want to leave her side as well. For a while, it was mostly just the two of us together navigating through the world with no idea or plan in mind. 

Before I knew it, it was close to 5:00 PM and Harry said he will be here in less than an hour. While Aria was sleeping and I was on my “lunch” break earlier I was able to sneak in some dishes, laundry and a quick shower. My unruly hair from this morning was washed and maintained and I was able to apply the lightest layer of make-up. My outfit of choice for this gathering we were about to have was a pair of basic black leggings, paired with an oversized sweatshirt. 

“Mommy, do you know when Daddy will be here?'' She adores her father, a total daddy’s girl. I wish it didn’t make me jealous but knowing that he is her favorite person pulls at my heartstrings a bit. 

“ I think he’ll be here shortly, Bubs. Why don’t we get you changed in your comfy pjs so when daddy gets here, you guys can watch a movie?”

I gave Aria a quick bath to help her fever settle down. Her fever has been on and off for most of the day; but it seems as though it was getting back to normal for the last hour. She picked out her favorite waffle knit pajamas to wear with the pink and red hearts. She swore up and down that they were her movie watching pajamas & that they were the most comfy for “lounging around”. By the time Aria and I made it back into the living room, Harry had arrived. 

I walked to the front door with Aria in my arms & by the time I opened the door she couldn’t jump into Harry’s arms quick enough. There he stood with his work attire on: a pair of dress pants and a button down shirt paired with his matching tie. The young frat boy has turned into a businessman, Harry followed in his fathers foot footsteps and is now a partner in his fathers law firm. His hair looks like it’s been freshly cut, but a few curls still peak out on the top. 

“ Hi Bubby, I’m so happy to see you.” A smile is plastered across Harry’s face, he’s always been a proud father. He always says that Aria lights up his world, and that she in fact saved him and has made him a better man. The same smile he gives Aria, is a similar smile that he used to shine at me, those pearly whites were once my weakness. 

-

Harry so kindly brought over Chinese for the 3 of us, the three of us scattered on my dining room table. Harry and Aria spike up most of the conversation, Aria tells Harry all the letters and colors that she’s learned at school so far and what she thinks her classmates worked on today without her. It amazes me watching the two of them interact together, it’s almost as if I’m seeing double: Aria is so much like Harry in so many different ways: between their smiles, the way their nose scrunches up while them are really focused in on what the other is saying, to they way they chew at the the same time or how they both furrow their brows the same exact way. 

-

After dinner, I excused myself to flip some laundry as well as clean the kitchen up from the day's mess. Harry and Aria are now sprawled out in the living room watching Lilo and Stitch, Aria is laid out in between Harry’s legs, with her back to him while his hands are laid in her lap. Every so often I catch Aria holding her fathers hand and even planting kisses on them. Aria’s love and admiration for her father makes Harry a little bit more bearable, he is someone I will always love but I fell out of love many years ago after everything he had put me through: the lies, the cheating, the girl, the uncertainty… It was all just too much. 

-

It’s a little after 8:30 PM now, Aria fell asleep watching the movie with Harry and he insisted he would take her to bed and do her nightly routine with her which consists of cuddles and reading a book, if we ever skip this step she never has a good night's rest. I hear soft snores coming from her bedroom which indicates that Harry can handle her nightly bedtime routine and he will be leaving shortly, which allows me some alone time before the end of the day. 

- 

“ She’s fast asleep now…” a soft smile has taken form on Harry’s tired face. 

“ Looks like she isn’t the only one that needs to be put to bed” I begin walking him to my front door, to kindly let him know that I would like for him to leave, however, he asks if we can have a talk. 

Harry and I walk back over to my living room as I take a seat on my sectional and he sits across from me. The expression on his face indicates that he’s nervous and is testing the waters out before he opens his mouth. 

“ I’ve been seeing someone…” is what he blurts out with. “I’ve been seeing her for a while now and I would like to know if it’s okay if I introduce her to Aria.” His words take me by surprise, one of our initial rules was that we would not introduce Aria to anyone unless we thought it was serious and up until now it had not come up. For whatever reason, his confession stings a little bit. I was under the impression that Harry wasn’t really into keeping anything serious or that’s at least what his mother gossips to me about. Anne and I always had a very close relationship, even after everything that had happened between Harry and I. 

“Uhmmm, yeah…” my heart starts pounding a little quicker than usual and I’m hoping Harry can’t hear it. 

“ Her name is Elizabeth, she works in the same building as I do at the accounting office across the hall from my law firm… she’s the receptionist there. She’s really great, and makes me really happy. I’d like for them to meet this weekend… I’m going to my parents for dinner and they’ll be meeting Elizabeth for the first time too.” 

“ Har, I’m happy to hear you’re happy. If you feel as though this is someone you would like to introduce Aria to, then go ahead… under one condition.” I can see Harry’s once anxious demeanor break and a look of curiosity takes over him. 

“Under no circumstances and I mean none, are you to have any sleep overs with this girl while Aria is there. If I find out from our daughter that you had a woman sleeping over while she is there… I promise you Harry, I will raise hell.” A slight nod is always I get out of him before he speaks again. “ Understood… thank you.” Call me traditional, however, I don’t think it’s appropriate to have girls in and out of the house while our daughter is there.. Even if they are dating but knowing Harry, he can sometimes spin the truth. 

“I’m gonna go… I have a long day tomorrow.” I nod and get up to walk Harry out of my house. As we approach the door, I gently open it for Harry to walk through. 

“ Have a goodnight, Har. Thank you again for dinner.”

As Harry walks out my door and into his car, all I see is the young guy that I grew-up with and wonder how things went so wrong for us. My heart aches for what ifs? What if we did end up being the end game, would Aria be happier? Would I be happier? Would we have regular family dinners and have family vacations and family traditions?

I wiped those ideas out of my heart as quickly as they came, because I did not get to where I am in life harping on the past. I, Alena, do not sit around and feel sorry for myself or what my life currently is versus what I once dreamed of it being.

#harry styles #fanfiction #harry styles imagines #fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry fanfic #fanficton #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #daddy harry styles #harry styles feels #harry styles and alena #harry styles and reader #daddry #harry styles dad

[dramionediscussion]

Hi Asks!

How do you feel about the growing number of writers who are getting book deals through fanfic?

I can't really explain why, but it kind of makes me sad. I know the authors themselves truly love fandom and they deserve all their current and future success. But a cynical part of me hates the way literary agents are looking in on fandom and picking off the best of the best, it feels so manufactured.

(Also, how writers are often pressured to take down their fic before they publish their original works. Like it's something to be ashamed of, or they're 'too good' for this world once they make it big).

I think it is cool. It's awesome that authors are being approached and given deals from writing fanfiction.

But I agree with you. It does feel like they are being shamed for their fanfic by being made to take it down. Very rarely do you see authors mention that they started off writing fanfic and tell you about it. Most times, people still look down upon fanfics, so when readers hear that the author started with that, they think the author isn't good enough to write a "proper novel". Also, when people find out that an author's novel was originally based on fanfic, they immediately dismiss the story, thinking its silly or bad quality.

EL James wrote 50 Shades based on her Twilight fanfic. Obviously, there are issues with that story and its editing, but people were quick to laugh at it because it was fanficton. That writer of the After series wrote her story based on a Harry Styles fanfic, which people mocked. A very famous rom-com author, Ali Hazelwood, wrote her first book, which was super popular, from a Reylo fanfic she did. When people heard about that after the book was released and loved, it did make them look twice at the author's work and put off other people from reading her stuff. (Her second novel was just as great, so people quickly forgot her Reylo days and realized that she is a really talented author).

But there is nothing wrong with fanfiction. It's a fantastic way to develop your writing skills. There is nothing to look down upon. And publishers should let the author leave their stiff online, don't remove it, and have that author pretend that this is not where they came from.

- Lisa

[legitlaur]

lightweight // harry styles boxer au pt. 1

boxer!harry x reader

Warnings: language, nsfw content (in future parts), violence

word count: 5k

summary: Harry Styles is a notorious boxer in London. He has been in a funk for a while and can’t stay focused in training or matches. One day he sees you. You change his perspective, and however the universe blesses Harry because he keeps bumping into you. 

a/n: this is a disclaimer if anything. All boxing and medical references are sourced from google. I don’t know much about either. But please enjoy some boxer!harry because he is currently my favorite harry

Sweat was dripping down my face, my hair was sticking to my forehead and my head wasn’t in the right mindset. I kept my hands up, I was playing defense this morning.

“Harry!” My coach, Sam, barked but not fast enough.

A gloved fist swung around and smacked me in the face.

I grunted in pain but stood my ground.

“Get over here man.” Sam shook his head in disappointment.

I walked across the ring to the broody man. I rested my arms on the ropes and opened my mouth wide. I was about to get a lecture and I wasn’t in the mood.

Sam took my mouthguard out and started pouring water down my throat. “What’s your problem today? You’re not hitting a single combination, and even on defense you’re getting the shit beaten out of you.”

A lecture.

“I know.” I panted, “I can’t focus today, something is going on. I, I. I just don’t know what.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you take a 15-minute break? Go outside, hopefully, the fresh air will do you good.” Sam untied my gloves and pulled them off.

I ducked under the ropes back onto the carpet of the gym. Even with my back turned to him I knew Sam was shaking his head in disappointment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have any big fights lined up for the next few months, I was just training for the off-season. He must have noticed there was definitely something going on because he never let me have anything more than a quick water break.

A few people were in the bathroom when I walked in, but they left without saying a word once I made eye contact with them.

They feared me, as they should.

I was Harry Styles, one of the best boxers in London.

Some people liked to call it fear, others liked to call it respect. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I was in the ring winning.

I looked in the mirror of the rusted bathroom. My hair was getting too long, Sam was going to start getting on me to go to the barbers. I took out the little ponytail that rested at the crown of my head, it was coming apart and this was a shit practice anyway. A few curls landed in front of my eyes, I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair trying to push it out of my eyes.

“Make yourself worth it!” I repeated to myself.

I stared at my opponent. His hair covering half his face, his eyes had less determination in them. The bruise on his right cheek was finally healing. He looked tired, sad, and weak. Nothing like a champion.

I was staring at myself.

Somehow, I had become my biggest competition. My mindset was all wrong. I didn’t have the motivation and drive I had when I put on my first set of boxing gloves. The spark burned out. Something was missing.

I slapped my face and shook my head. After bouncing around a few times I left the bathroom and went straight to the front door of the building. I could hear the busy London streets before I pushed the door open.

A cool breeze hit my bare chest. I walked a few feet away from the gym to clear my head. I had my hands resting behind my head as I inhaled and exhaled the polluted London air.

I looked around at the people walking past. Most of them were either giving me a weird look because I was walking around shirtless in the street with both hands wrapped. Others knew who I was and were nodding at me.

My head was spinning, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt like I was overheating but freezing at the same time. The sounds of traffic were making me panic, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. Something was wrong with me.

When my eyes landed on you, it left like the biggest fist to the gut I’d ever taken. The air that I couldn’t inhale was somehow knocked out of me.

You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen before. When you walked past me, it wasn’t the confusion, fear, or respect that you gave me. No, you gave me pity.

I looked into your eyes and felt peace and passion all at once. There was a mutual understanding of what I was going through. Even if I wasn’t sure what it was. I felt like we were staring into each other’s souls.

I turned around as you walked right past me. Not even giving me a second thought. Why would you?

I tried to keep my eyes on you for as long as possible, but you turned the corner before you could blend into the crowd. I was pretty certain a woman with your beauty and confidence would never blend into a crowd.

I pinched the bridge of my nose when you disappeared. I knew the chances of me seeing you again were slim to none. I never had much luck in my life, except maybe boxing.

You. The bizarre angel sent from heaven above to show me pity.

I didn’t even realize pity was what I needed until you showed it to me. I wasn’t sure how you’d shown it to me, there had been nothing but eye contact.

A dreary man in a suit bumped into me. “Watch where you’re going, man.” He gave me a disgusted look. It was probably deserved after my sweat got all over his blue blazer.

“Sorry," I muttered as I walked back into the gym. Sam was sitting at the front desk with his hand covering his face. He was getting more and more frustrated with me. My practices hadn’t been great recently, and neither of us knew how to fix whatever problem I was clearly having.

I didn’t know what came over me or why the next words came out of my mouth, but I had a feeling I would regret them soon enough.

“Schedule me for a fight.”

Sam's head popped up. His eyes were wide. “What?”

We both knew me getting in the ring for an actual fight right now would end with me in the hospital. I didn’t care, if anything I hoped it would inspire me to find some form of inspiration.

“I want to fight someone! Anyone!” I reiterated as I walked up to my coach.

“Are you sure you wanna do that? We both know you’re not ready for a real fight.” Sam offered.

I wasn’t sure, hell maybe this was suicide. I shrugged, “Why not? I haven’t had a real fight in months and it’s starting to show. The fans are losing interest.”

Sam nodded, “That’s true. Maybe this will get you out of the funk you’ve been in.”

“So you’ll schedule me for something soon?” I was getting a little too eager.

“Yes, but if I don’t think you’re ready for it I’m pulling you out.” He was already on his phone, probably trying to find me a decent opponent that wouldn’t ruin my title.

-

A week later I was in the locker room of the York Hall. I was getting my hands wrapped in preparation for my match that evening. I could hear the audience through the cinder block walls. Word had spread that Harry Styles was going to be back in the ring tonight. People from all over London were coming to see me fight. I had an audience, now all I needed was to put on a show.

Once Sam gave me a quick pep talk and I was in my gloves I threw on my robe. I waited for my walk-out song to start. It was my cue to head out to the ring.

The song “Death May Die” began, dramatic violin blasted through the speakers I stood up straight and walked out into the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers when they saw me. I kept my stoic face and didn’t interact with the fans at all. It was part of my act. Harry Styles was someone to fear after all.

Once I climbed up into the ring my team took off my robe and tried to get my adrenaline pumping. They pushed my mouthguard up against my teeth and climbed out of the ring.

“In the middle.” The ref called out.

I turned to face my opponent. Jack ‘JawBreaker’ Jones. He walked out to Machine Gun Kelly’s ‘Jawbreaker’ a little too pretentious if you ask me.

He was 6’1 and 150 pounds. His long blonde was tied back into a bun, I wasn’t sure how he managed to have such long hair while boxing. It was nearly impossible for me. I had long hair for a few years, but when I got serious about my boxing career I had to chop it off. Jones was rather tan for a Londoner, and he was chiseled out. From what I’d seen and heard he was a good boxer too. This would be an interesting match.

The plan to win was simple. Sam and I knew I had the better cardio, so we strategized that I would go with defense and tire Jones out. When he started getting too tired to keep trying for the offense I would knock him out.

We made eye contact, tapped gloves, and started the match. There were five rounds, each for three minutes.

Once the bell rang Jones and I started dancing around each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. I did my best to keep my distance and not let him back me into the ropes. I had a longer wingspan than him, which meant I could be further away and still land a punch.

Finally, Jones threw a punch. I ducked and spun out of the way, keeping myself away from the ropes. He got closer again and jabbed me in the ribs. I fought back, swinging an uppercut to his face, and landing it right on his nose. Blood started dripping down his nose. I knew I didn’t break it, but I’d had a similar injury and I knew his head was pounding right now.

The bell rang through the arena. I finally heard the crowd again, realizing they were there watching. Just as fast as the round started, it ended and I was back in my corner on my stool guzzling water and listening to Sam tell me to go for Jones’ jaw.

Once the break was over, Jones and I were staring into each other’s eyes to start round two. So far he wasn’t wearing down as we anticipated. His cardio was pretty decent. The round started and Jones immediately landed three punches to my side. I groaned in pain but kept standing. I couldn’t let this wanna-be boxer beat me.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, my torso ached as the oxygen reached my lungs. I landed three or four punches to his side and arms, but Jones kept his hands up to guard his face the entire time.

We were in the fourth of five rounds, and I was out of it. I barely made it through the third round. I was up against the ropes getting the shit beat out of me. All I could do was keep my hands up to try and protect my face.

I had a busted-up lip, slip-open eye brown, and definitely a bruised rib. I had to take the defensive side this round. Jones had landed enough blows for the ref to call the match and the judges to easily declare him the winner.

I threw a few here and there as we bounced around the ring, but he was landing just as many punches. Before I knew it, I was back up against the ropes. My eyes were hardly open, I was trying to keep my gloves up but my arms were so tired and sore I couldn’t raise them high enough to keep my face out of the line of fire. My knees were beginning to wobble, I was going to blackout any second.

I turned my head slightly, that’s when I saw you again. In a crowd of hundreds of people, I saw you. Everyone else was a blur, you lit up like a Christmas tree. Your eyes caught my attention like a firework in the middle of a blizzard. You looked frightened but the concern and pity were screaming at me through your dilated pupils.

I don’t know how, but I felt an adrenaline rush kick in. I threw punch after punch right into Jones’s face.

Make yourself worth it!

With my mantra in my head, and you in the crowd I knew I had to finish off ‘Jawbreaker’. I flipped us, he was backed up into the corner against the ropes and I was slamming my gloves into his face, really going hard on his jaw again and again. The ref stepped in and pushed me off Jones.

I gave them a little space while the ref gave him his eight-second stand. When the ref yelled six, Jones fell to the floor. His knees gave out and his head crashed against the mat.

The crowd went wild and started screaming. There were chants of my name and boos from every corner. I went back to Sam, he took out my mouthguard and untied my gloves. Once my hands were free he had me follow a pen with my eyes. It was harder to stay focused on the pen than I cared to admit, but it wasn’t because my head was pounding from the beating I’d endured. It was because you were somewhere in the audience and I had to find you.

I’d won. Even in my darkest months I still had some grit in me. Perhaps it was only because my eyes somehow found yours in my weakest moment, or maybe it was the fighter in me finally resurfacing. The moment I thought I would end up on the mat with a concussion I ended up getting my arm lifted into the air and called a champion.

The title ‘Best Boxer in London’ still rang true.

I ran into the locker room, not bothering with any post-fight interviews or fan interactions. I wanted to get okayed by the paramedics, get showered, and get into the crowd to find you. I had to find you.

My legs were bouncing up and down while the paramedics cleaned up my cuts, and stitched me up. They took a look at my ribs and told me to take it easy for the next few days. My eyes were fine but I did have a gnarly black eye forming on my right eye.

The paramedics finally left, it had taken everything in me to let them take their time with the stitches and checking for a concussion. I flexed my hand muscles and frowned at the light purple bruising on my knuckles. Once I was alone in the locker room I stripped and limped into the shower. The hot water seared against my aching muscles, but I had a feeling this would be the only warm shower I had until I was able to get back into the gym.

Once the water ran clear again and was no longer slightly red, I hopped out of the shower and dried myself in record time. I was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, and back in the arena before Jones left the ring. He still had doctors looking at him.

The number of people still in the arena dwindled significantly from when I had won. I could only pray that you hadn’t left yet. Maybe with some grace from God, you would be waiting out the traffic of leaving York Hall.

I scrambled through the groups of people congregating together. I couldn’t describe you to anyone, I didn’t know your distinct features. All I knew was that when I saw you, I would know it was you.

I looked and looked, but you were nowhere to be found. I sighed through my nose and dragged my feet back into the locker room to grab my bag.

“Awesome job Harry, I don’t know how you managed to pull through in that last round. I was certain Jones was going to knock you out.” Sam pulled me in for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him and patted his back then released him. I went to my locker and grabbed my duffle bag. “I had a random burst of energy I guess.” I shrugged and left the room before Sam could ask me any more questions.

I’d won a fight when I was at my weakest. Normally all I wanted to do was go get my earnings and spend most of it at the bar or club to celebrate. Today, I just wanted to find you. I wasn’t sure why you were so important, or why you had such an impact on me, but I needed to find out. I was determined to find out.

I went to the back office where I found myself at the end of every match. The bright lights in there burned my sensitive eyes. Inside the ring, the light was bright but the rest of the arena was pretty dark. I only ever focused on my opponent, the light was never an issue.

“Styles! Congrats man, that was an epic fight.” Jeremy, the owner of York Hall (and also the guy who organized all these matches) greeted me as I opened the office door.

I nodded, “Thanks, Jeremy.”

The tall skinny man stood up from his desk, “You know you brought in quite a fanbase tonight.” He picked up a thick white envelope and handed it to me, “There’s your cut. $1500.”

“$1500? I fucking won man, that fight was worth $2000 easy.” I threw my only good hand up in the air, “I knocked out ‘Jawbreaker’!” I raised my voice but added a sarcastic flare to Jones’ stage name.

Jeremy only shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The business has been slow lately. Maybe it’s time to find some other way to make money if this isn’t enough for you.”

I grabbed the envelope, stuffed it into my hoodie pocket, and left the office before I did something I would regret.

I was fuming when I went down the stairs. I needed to get out of York Hall. This day had been a complete shit show, and on top of it all, I was getting paid absolutely nothing. Not to mention I had rent due, and Sam was expecting his next paycheck soon. $1500 wasn’t going to cut it.

I huffed as I pushed the doors open and walked out into the dark and muggy London nightlife.

“Took ya long enough.” A voice called out.

“Excuse -” I began to yell but clamped my mouth shut when I turned and saw who spoke. It was you.

You were leaning against the street lamp post on the corner. You were wrapped up in an oversized black trench coat, and your hair fell perfectly at your shoulders.

“Excuse me?” I finished the phrase and started walking closer to you.

“Knocking him out in the fourth round, when you should have knocked him out at the beginning of the third. Your head is out of the game, Lightweight.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Lightweight? Is that meant to be some kind of insult?” I mused.

You shrugged, “What do you think?”

What did I think?

Only that the universe really thought I deserved something good in my life right now, because I was standing less than a foot away from the girl that had been stuck in my mind since the day I first laid my eyes on you.

I cleared my throat, “Have we met before?” It was a trick question, one you shouldn’t know the answer to. I wasn’t even sure if I knew the answer. We’d never officially met, I’d just been seeing you in my mind over and over again.

“Not officially.” You shook your head. “I’m y/n, y/l/n and I already know who you are. The infamous Harry Styles ‘Best Boxer in London’.” You used finger quotes on the last half of my name.

“What’s with the finger quotes?” I mimicked your actions.

“The best boxer in London should have knocked ‘Jawbreaker’ out in the third round. Not gotten his ass handed to him before a weak knockout at the end of the fourth.” You explained.

My lips formed a thin line, as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself) you were right. Sam worked hard to make sure I was guaranteed a win, but I almost lost.

“How do you know so much about boxing, y/n?” I tried out your name for the first time. It felt good rolling off my tongue. It was a beautiful and eloquent name for a beautiful and graceful woman. Very fitting.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “I’ve been in the ring here and there.”

You’d boxed.

“I’d love to see you in action sometime,” I smirked.

“I suppose something could be arranged.” You stepped out into the street and lifted your arm in the air. Hailing a taxi. When a small black taxi pulled off and stopped you opened the door. “If we meet again, Lightweight.”

The taxi door slammed after you climbed in. I had a pit in my stomach when I watched the taxi drive off into the night. My initial thoughts were that I’d never see you again, but I’d thought the same the first time I saw you. Then against all odds, I somehow spotted you in the crowd at my weakest moment in the match; and I bumped into you while you were waiting for a taxi. I had a feeling I would see you again when I least expected it.

I didn’t see you again. Not for a long time. The morning after my fight with Jawbreaker every headline read something along the lines of:

JawBreaker gets his Jaw Broken by Harry Styles the Best Boxer in London

Sam called me and was freaking out. Apparently, I broke Jones’ jaw during the knockout. The media went crazy, and I was blowing up on the internet. I took the next two weeks off to recover - doctor's orders.

When I finally was able to go back to the gym Sam had me doing press and interviews instead of training. He kept telling me I had to have a name in the media to have fights to train for. I understood what he meant, but I had become a local celebrity overnight. I couldn’t even go into a local coffee shop without someone asking for a photo or autograph.

I’d come up with the tough scary guy persona to avoid this. I didn’t want to interact with people. I absolutely loved my fans, but most of these people weren’t boxing fans. They saw my knockout on social media somewhere and thought it was cool. They were not real fans, they were the trend followers.

After a month of not being in the gym, I finally had to sit Sam down and tell him he had to start doing what I paid him to do. Train me. He agreed and got me in the gym the next morning.

I spent another few months doing the most intense training of my life. Not to mention I now had a fight every other week. These random guys kept showing up at York Hall telling Jeremy that they could beat me.

They were easy fights, and they kept the cash coming in. I hadn’t had this many zeros in my bank account since I went bankrupt in college. Only this time, there was no negative sign.

I was in the best shape of my life, and my head was finally getting back in the game. I did everything I could to keep myself busy. When I wasn’t busy, I would start to think and get in my own head. That’s how I got to my dark place only months before.

Today I was finishing up my last set of weights before ending my workout with a quick sparking session with one of the gym’s trainers.

Once I put all the weights away properly and wiped the sweat off my neck and hands I went upstairs to the ring. When I got up there I heard a sparring match in progress.

Two women were in the ring. I couldn’t see much of their faces. Only what they were wearing and their skill. The faster and more agile girl wore a black sports bra and matching black shorts. She was able to throw a lot of punches, but the ones she did land were weak.

I started watching her opponent. She wore a white sports bra and lavender shorts. She was stronger and preferred to throw perfect punches. She landed every punch she threw. Overall the two of them were good boxers. I was impressed with what I’d seen.

Sam was a few feet in front of me watching. I closed the distance between us and crossed my arms across my chest. “Who are they?” I asked.

“Hannah Lee, and y/n y/l/n. They’ve been practicing here once or twice a week for a month now. They said it was just a fun workout, but I think with some serious training they could really be something.” Sam explained as he watched the match.

y/n y/l/n. There was no way. I knew you mentioned you’d been in the ring before, but seeing this sparring match. This was different.

“Did you say y/n y/l/n?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but the chances of someone with the exact same name as you sparring in the same gym as me were almost 50/50.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you know her or something?”

“Not really. We met once, at the ‘Jawbreaker’ match. She called me Lightweight.” I smiled as the memory of you insulting me ran through my head.

“Sounds like y/n.” Sam chuckled.

Did he know you? Had you been right under my nose all these months and I’d been too self-centered to notice? Would you even want to talk to me? Was I worthy of you?

Make yourself worth it!

I reminded myself of my mantra.

Sam and I watched in silence as you and Hannah finished up your session. You ducked under the ropes, someone I didn’t recognize untied your gloves. Once your hands were free you grabbed a water bottle and downed it.

Sam walked up to you and started making a conversion, I stayed by the stairs. There was a pit in my stomach from just thinking about talking to you again. I wasn’t sure how it would go, I didn’t even know what I would say.

“Lightweight.” Your voice could bring me out of trance, but your voice calling me - even if it was that horrible nickname - was enough to end my life.

“Really? You coulda picked any name and you went with that one.” I quickly shook my head in disappointment while trying to keep my cool. I blinked a few times and refocused on reality.

You were standing in front of me, unwrapping your hands. This was the closest I’d been to you in decent lighting. Your eyes were still as electrifying as the last two times I’d stared into them. You had the kind of eyes that made people feel like you were peering into their souls.

Your eyes remained focused on the white tape you were unwrapping as you spoke, “Lightweight suits you,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long time no see. Looks like you finally got to see me in action.” You quoted my eager words to watch you in the ring months ago. “I figured I’d be running into you soon enough. This is where you train, no?”

“Yeah, it is.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, I was still stunned that you were here and even more so speechless that you were more than decent at boxing.

Words started tumbling out of my mouth before I could filter them. “When you said you’d been in the ring here and there I didn’t realize you really knew your way around the ring.”

You kept your head down but I could still see the small smile that grew on your face. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy being a hotshot media magnet you would get your ass back in the ring and train with the rookies.”

You’d noticed that I had been properly training in the last little while. Maybe you’d be able to convince Sam that I needed time working on combinations for matches, instead of working in front of cameras for the press.

I threw my hands up in the air dramatically, “You hear that Sam? I need to get back into the ring with the rookies!”

“Cut him some slack, you’re not his only client ya know.” You defended my coach.

“Wait, is- is Sam training you for a match?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

You nodded, “I have a really small one this weekend, if you’re not too busy being ‘the Best Boxer in London’ you should swing by.” You used finger quotes for my title again. “It would be really motivating to have a ‘pro’ there.”

“What is it with you and your finger quotes when it comes to my skill?” I rolled my eyes.

You picked up a small duffle bag from the floor and walked past me towards the stairwell. “Buy me a smoothie and maybe I’ll tell you.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanficton #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction #fanfiction #harry styles boxer #legitlaur #lightweight #harry styles x reader #boxer harry styles x boxer reader #harry styles x y/n

[agartumsaathoe]

We like to say we hate the people that hurt us, but it's rare we completely do. Regardless of what happened in the end, she was his first love. There was a time when she made him happy, and it's hard to let something like that go when it doesn't happen a lot.

Aven; Duplicity

#duplicity #duplicity quotes #harry #harry styles #harry styles fanficton #wattpad #wattpad quotes #quotes #first love #love #love quotes

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Two

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.”  

― Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Screenplay

Masterpost

tw: Death, loss of parent

***Please do not repost without permission***

5:21pm, December 31st, 1999

“Babe, I’m home!”

Roni drops her keys onto the kitchen counter as she calls out to her boyfriend, Oliver.  She waits a moment for his response, smiling when she hears him.

“Hey!” Oliver appears around the corner, beaming.  He’s in a striped t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, clearly not dressed for the New Year’s Eve party he and Roni are throwing.  He bounds over to her, happily embracing her and kissing her tenderly on the lips. “How was work?”

Roni kisses him back, reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair. “It was good,” she says with a shrug. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

Oliver scoffs. “Because, I’ve been busy decorating the house this whole time.  C’mere.”

He links his hand with Roni’s and leads her into the living room of their shared condo, now covered in streamers and various party decorations signifying the new millennium.  Roni can tell he’s been working hard, and she giggles when she spots a sign in the corner of the room similar to the one she’d seen on the street earlier.  “Y2k, The end is near,” she reads aloud.

Oliver chuckles as well, reciting the words that have been constantly playing on the television  and radio for weeks now. “Remember to shut off all electronics before midnight on January 1st, in the year 2000!”  He picks up a balloon from the ground and gives it a harsh kick.  “Because you know, obviously they’re all going to explode and the world is going to end in death and destruction and all that.”

Roni shrugs.  “I mean, you never know.  We have no idea what’s going to happen.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” Oliver says with a mischievous grin.  “Aliens are no match for me.”  He makes his way over to Roni and wraps his arms around her, trapping her in a warm hug.  Roni instantly melts into him and nuzzles her head against his chest.

“It really does look good, baby.”  Her voice is a bit muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but she knows he’s heard her when he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah?  Not too much?”

“No, no.  It’s perfect. Thank you for doing all of  this.”

For a moment, they stay just like that, swaying gently from side to side and just enjoying the stillness-- the calm before the storm of friends arriving for the party.  Roni lets out a long sigh, taking in the forever comforting smell of her boyfriend and enjoying the warmth of his body holding hers.  She’s always loved being held like this, completely wrapped up in someone and safe from everything else. It’s the little moments like this that she never wants to forget, and she often finds herself coming back to these moments when days get hard.  

“I miss my mom.”  She doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but it’s been there, on the tip of her tongue, and now she can’t stop herself.  It feels like saying it is going to get it out, like the tension on her heart will ease up just a bit if she just says what’s on her mind.

Oliver tightens his hold on her, giving her a little squeeze and resting his cheek on top of her head.  “I know, baby. I’m sorry.  I know this time of year is hard on you.  Going into a new millennium without her must be weird.”

Roni bites her lip, wanting so badly to stop herself from saying what she’s about to say-- but now that she’s started, now that she’s so much as dipped her toes into the emotions, she can’t stop herself.  So she speaks, all in one breath, and squeezes her eyes shut the minute the words leave her mouth. “I think I’m gonna try again tonight.”

Oliver stops his movements, but he doesn’t let go of her.  He doesn’t even move to look at her, and for a moment Roni feels silly. When Oliver finally exhales,, Roni launches into her explanation.   “I think I figured out what I’ve been doing wrong, Oliver! I re-read that book and I think I misunderstood it last time, so I tweaked a few things and I’m thinking maybe if I just try again around midnight tonight when everything is supposed to go all screwy, maybe I can--”

“Roni.”

“--figure it out! I really think this time it’s gonna work because--”

“Roni.”

“--I took notes, and I did even more research! You know that recording I did?  I re-recorded it! And I’m gonna use that blindfold, and--”

“Roni!” Oliver takes Roni’s shoulders in his hands and scans her face with an unreadable expression.  This time, Roni does stop talking, wilting in his grasp and frowning up at him.  

Silence hangs thick in the air before Oliver lets out another impossibly long sigh, reaching up to rub at his face with his hand.  “Roni,” he says slowly.  “Time travel….. Isn’t possible.”

“It is possible, Oliver. It’s entirely possible.”

“It’s ludicrous is what it is.”  Oliver shakes his head slowly, reaching to brush some of Roni’s hair back.  He knows his words are harsh, and he doesn’t mean them to be, so he thinks that maybe the softness of his touch will cushion the blow of what he’s saying.  “I love you, like, to a ridiculous degree.  But you worry me with this stuff.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Roni mutters.  “Maybe if you took me seriously--”

“I do take you seriously, Veronica.”  His use of her full name, which he reserves almost solely for when he needs to get a point across, makes her ears prick.  “I take you more seriously than I take most people.  But dude, time travel isn’t real.  I know you know that.”

Roni frowns, absorbing the thickness behind his words.  Logic tells her he’s right of course, but her instinct tells her he isn’t.   She doesn’t know why his words hurt her feelings so much, and she feels stupid for even bringing this up.  There’s genuine concern in Oliver’s eyes, so much so that its almost uncomfortable to meet his gaze.  So after a moment silence, she pulls away.  “I don’t know why I even tell you this stuff anymore.”

Oliver doesn’t come after her as she begins to make her way towards the stairs.  Instead, he reaches up with both hands  to rub at his face once again.  “Roni, can we not fight, please?”

“We’re not fighting,” she calls over her shoulder.  “Just forget I even brought it up.”

“Baby--”

“Seriously!”  She tries to make her voice as normal as possible.  “Just get ready.  Our friends are gonna be here in a few hours.  It’s gonna be sick.”

Oliver starts saying something, but Roni doesn’t even stop to listen once she reaches the bedroom.  She closes the door behind her-- not hard enough to be considered a slam but enough to get the point across-- and falls softly onto the bed.

The only noise in the room comes from the clock hanging on the wall, and Roni watches the hands tick by out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t know why she even brought this whole thing up, really.  She’d known that was going to be Oliver’s reaction.  It was always his reaction.

Roni raises her hand to view her mood ring, and smiles in spite of herself when she sees that its color is orange-- meaning unsettled.

The ring had belonged to her mother growing up, and Roni doesn’t remember a single time when her mother wasn’t wearing it.  It was both Roni and her mother’s favorite piece of jewelry, and from an early age her mother had taught her what all of the colors meant.  The memory warms Roni’s heart immensely.

----

10:16pm, April 4th, 1979

Five year old Roni pads barefoot down the hall, the trail of her nightgown a little too long-- making it difficult for her feet to move.  She reaches her mother’s bedroom door and pushes it open without knocking- she’d never knocked before-- and is greeted by the sight of her mother,  Tanya, sitting up in bed and watching the thunderstorm through open windows.

Tanya turns almost immediately, and offers her the warmest smile.  Her smiles were always warm, and she always knew exactly what Roni wanted before Roni could even say anything.

“Hi peanut,” Tanya greets, twirling the mood ring on her middle finger.  She stops the movement and pats the spot on the bed beside her.  “You scared?”

Thunder claps loudly and Roni nods, scurrying across the floor and jumping up onto the bed.  Tanya envelops her in her arms immediately, and Roni burrows deeply into her side.  

“It’s loud, mama!” Roni pouts, taking her mother’s dainty hand in her own small one and playing with her long, slender fingers.

“It is,” Tanya agrees.  “But it’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Then why is it so scary?”  Roni asks, struggling around the gap of missing teeth in the front of her mouth.

Tanya chuckles, using her free hand to comb through Roni’s tangled bedhead.  “It isn’t meant to be,” she says softly.  “It’s just the clouds, my love.  They won’t hurt you.”

Roni notices the mood ring on her mother’s middle finger, and she examines it closely before touching it.  “What’s that?”

“It’s called a mood ring. You wear it, and it tells you how you’re feeling.”

“But can’t you just know how you’re feeling?  By just… feeling it?”

Tanya laughs again, one of Roni’s favorite noises in the world, before explaining.  “Well you see, sometimes feelings can be confusing.  Sometimes we don’t know exactly what we’re feeling.  Maybe our bodies could be feeling one way, but our hearts another.  Or maybe our hearts feel one way, but our minds another.  Sometimes it can be very difficult to understand what we’re feeling exactly.  Sometimes what we’re feeling doesn’t even have a name.”

“And the ring helps you?”

Tanya nods.  “That’s right.  Would you like to try it?”

Roni doesn’t answer, she just reaches for the ring and slides it gently off of her mother’s finger.  Of course it’s far too big for her fingers, which makes her frown up at her mother as a way of asking for help.  Tanya only smiles, taking the ring from her daughter’s hands.  “Hold out your hand for me, love.  Like this.”  

Roni holds out her hand, palm up, and Tanya places the ring in the center before folding Roni’s fingers.  “Now close your hand around it, and then hold it tight to your heart.”  Tanya takes Roni’s tiny fist and guides it gently to her chest.  Roni watches her mother with bated breath, expecting something magnificent to happen.

Tanya’s smile never once fades as she watches her daughter, and after a few moments she takes her hand again.  “Now lets see what color you got!”  

Roni holds out her hand once more, and both lean in to try and get a better look at the gemstone.  Roni frowns.  “It’s brown.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well,” Roni reasons, “It was pink when you had it on.  It was pretty.”

“It still is pretty, my love.  Although, brown means you’re nervous.”

“Well, yeah!” Roni states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  “Did you see outside?!”

Tanya giggles.  “There is nothing to be nervous about, peanut.  I promise.  Come here.”

Scooting backwards so that her back rests against the headboard, Tanya holds her arms out for Roni to curl up into her lap.   Roni complies immediately, already feeling that much safer in her mother’s embrace.

“Watch the lightning,” Tanya instructs, pointing at the window.  “And tell me what you see.”

Roni doesn’t understand at first, but she isn’t one to question her mother.  So she stares intently out the window, waiting not-so-patiently for the flash of lightning to occur while her mother plays softly with her hair.

When the lightning finally does flash, Roni jumps a little-- but she’s brave, so she pretends it never happened and hopes her mother doesn’t notice.  She watches the now-dark sky the moment the lightning passes, and squints her eyes.  Was she supposed to see something extraordinary?

She looks up at her mother with furrowed brows.  “I just saw flashing lights.”

“Really?  Because I saw…”  Tanya’s lips form a line as she ponders for a brief moment before continuing.  “I saw two elephants.  One was trying to balance on a ball.”  

Thunder echoes loudly, shaking the walls, and Roni burrows further into her mother.  Her mother, however, only continues.  “And you hear that?  That’s the sound of him falling off of it because he’s clumsy.”

Roni giggles imagining a big huge elephant falling off a ball.  “Mama, you’re silly.”

“You didn’t see it?”  Tanya asks, sounding completely sincere.  “Look now.  Try again.”  She points out the window, and this time Roni really concentrates.  She focuses all of her efforts, waiting without so much as taking another breath, until she sees the next lightning flash.

Both Roni and Tanya seem to get excited about that one.  “What did you see?”  Tanya asks.

“I saw horses!”  Roni exclaims. “They were jumping and stuff. But they were real big!  There was a mama and a baby.”

“Like us?”

“Yeah!”

Thunder rings out once more, and this time Roni doesn’t cower.  This time, she turns to her mother with a wide, open-mouthed smile.  “That was the baby horse running into a tree and knocking it down!”

“Oh nooo!” Tanya giggles.  “Must be a clumsy little thing!”

Roni’s laugh echoes that of her mother’s.  “Yeah!”

They stay like that for the next few minutes, talking and laughing and making up stories about what they see in the lightning, until Roni is completely fearless.  Now the thunder seems a little less loud, and the lightning tells stories that Roni and her mother giggle about until they can’t breathe.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to little Roni, and she turns to take her mother’s hand in both of her small ones once again.  “Mama?”

“Yes?”

“We’re best friends, huh?”

Tanya wraps her arms around Roni, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  “We are, baby.”

“Are we always gonna be best friends?”

“I think so.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Moments pass in silence, and Roni grows worried that what she said made her mother sad, because when she looks up her eyes look a little wet.  This worries Roni, and she quickly scrambles to think of a change of subject.

“I wanna try the ring again!”

Tanya sniffs, reaching up briefly to dab at her eyes before flashing her signature smile.  “Well sure, go ahead.”

Roni slips it off of her mother’s finger and encloses her own fingers around it, bringing it up to her chest and closing her eyes tight.  She knows this isn’t a part of the rules, but something tells her it’s important to make a wish in this moment.  Because maybe if she makes a wish, and the mood ring isn’t brown anymore, it’s a sign the wish will come true.

So with all of her might, Roni wishes for her mama to only be happy for the rest of her life.

Tanya laughs, reaching forward to ruffle Roni’s already messy bedhead.  “What are you doing there, peanut?”

“Making a wish!” Roni responds without opening her eyes, and Tanya smiles softly.

“Oh, I see.  I’m sorry for interrupting.”

When she’s certain the wish has been made well enough, Roni nods her head and opens her eyes.  With slow movements, she pulls her hand away and glances down at the ring in her fingers.

It takes her a few moments to make out the color, but when she does she gasps.  “Mama look, it’s pink like yours!”

Tanya gasps, taking Roni’s hand in her own and bringing it closer to examine the ring.  “It is!  Pink means you’re happy!  Are you happy?”

“Yeah!” Roni giggles, bouncing a little on the bed.   “Are you happy?”

“Beyond.”  Tanya settles back against the pillows and pats the empty spot beside her.  “You wanna sleep with mama tonight?”

It’s not an unusual question, and sleeping in Tanya’s bed with her isn’t something that Roni isn’t used to.  Still, she beams.  “Can I?”

“Of course!”  Tanya pulls the comforter down, exposing the crisp, white, ridiculously comfortable sheets that Roni loves.  “Get in here!”

That night Roni falls asleep to the sound of her mother’s heartbeat and the rain hitting the side of their apartment, while her mother scratches lovingly at her head and her back.

It’s a feeling Roni will never forget, and a feeling she’d hoped she’d get to feel for the rest of her life. -----

It’s 8:47pm when Roni finishes getting ready.  A few guests have already showed up, but she knows them well enough that they don’t mind her being fashionably late downstairs.  They’ve even popped in and out of her room a few times to say hello and bring her drinks because,  “You need to get started, Ron!”

The dress she’d bought specifically for this occasion clings to her every curve, and the alcohol already in her system makes her feel like she’s buzzing even though she hasn’t even joined the party yet.  She checks herself out in the full length mirror on the back of her and Oliver’s bedroom door, smirking at her own reflection.  At the very least, she’s going to look good as hell tonight.

She sees the tape recorder poking out from under her bed and it feels like a sudden slap to the face. She’s going to try again tonight, and she isn’t going to tell anyone.

Although she isn’t scared, she pads barefoot across the room to kick the tape recorder under the bed for the time being.  She still has a few hours before she needs to worry about all that, and for right now she just wants to enjoy herself.

Roni slips into the heels she’d bought for this evening and, with one last glance in the mirror, begins to make her way downstairs.

The party is already in full swing, and everyone greets Roni enthusiastically as she passes. Music is blasting from the stereo. She offers a few hugs here and there and holds light conversation, but her heart is hardly in it as she makes her way through the crowd.

It isn’t long until she finds the one person she’s been looking for. Oliver stands in the kitchen, fixing some type of colorful drink. He doesn’t see her at first, but Roni smiles the minute she sees him.

He looks so incredibly handsome in his suit, the bow tie around his neck matching the color of her dress perfectly.  He’s focusing on pouring the exact amount of vodka into the glass when he looks up and notices Roni.

“Baby,”  Oliver says just above a whisper, immediately softening.  He drops what he’s doing and makes his way over to Roni, wrapping her up in his arms.  She can tell he’s been waiting for this, and she hugs him back without a fuss. She practically melts into his embrace because, gosh darn it, she’s a sucker for his hugs.  “God, you look so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Roni replies, mouth smushed against his chest. “So do you.”

Oliver sways a bit, talking softly so that only Roni can hear.  “I don’t like when we fight like that.”

Roni is grateful for the buzz of everyone talking over the music, because it makes this moment with Oliver all the more intimate in the strangest way.  “I know,” she replies, pulling away to look up at him.  “I don’t either.  I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Oliver replies, brushing a piece of Roni’s hair behind her ear.  “It’s just…” he sighs.  “You worry me sometimes.  That’s all.”

“I know,” Roni repeats.  “I don’t mean to.  And I get it.”

She does get where he’s coming from, really, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t trouble her that this was a side of her that he would never understand.  All the research she’s done, all the plans she’s sketched out for herself-- none of that will ever matter to him because he writes it off as crazy.  

And that’s fine, she supposes.  That’s the logical response anyway. As much as she wishes Oliver were more supportive, his is the response she’d expect anyone to have.

Except for her mother.

Roni attributes her fascination with this sort of thing to her mother.  Tanya was the sort of woman who never belittled or doubted any thought that came into Roni’s little mind, no matter how strange it seemed, because she herself had such a vivid imagination.  She was the only one who understood Roni completely, in some of the strangest and most unspoken ways.  She was Roni’s best friend.

Which is why Roni refuses to give up on trying to go back to her to undo the day of the accident.

Still, Oliver doesn’t need to know that.  

Roni pulls out of the hug and smiles at Oliver, puckering her lips as a silent request for him to kiss her.   He smiles, pressing several small pecks and one lingering kiss to her lips.  

“I love you,” he says against her cheek, kissing the spot just in front of her ear before turning back to the concoction he was making on the counter.  He picks up the glass and offers it to Roni.  “This is yours,” he says proudly.  “I was making it for you. I was about to bring it upstairs when you showed up.”

“It’s like I knew,” Roni states.  “My alcohol senses were tingling.”

Oliver nods.  “Not surprised.”

“No one makes my drinks as good as you do!” Roni shrugs.  “That’s why I love you so much.”

Oliver snorts.  “Oh is that all?”  He playfully jabs a finger into Roni’s stomach.  

“And I guess you’re pretty handsome, too.”  Roni takes a sip of her drink as Oliver circles her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing his lips to her neck.

He hums into kiss he presses just below her ear. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

Oliver presses soft kisses against her neck, smiling into every single one.  “M-hm.  Could just eat you up.”   He bites at her earlobe, lowering his voice.  “Or out.”

Roni gasps, attempting to turn around in his arms and playfully slap him.  “Oliver Ward!”

“Ooh, full name,” Oliver teases.  “Spicy.”

“You’re so annoying,” Roni says.  She rolls her eyes, but her giggle gives her away.  “There will be plenty of time for that once everyone leaves.”

“Well in that case,” Oliver lets go of her, looking pleased with himself,  “I say we just call the whole party off.”

“Behave.”  Roni cuts her eyes at him, but he responds my sticking his tongue out at her-- which she mirrors.  She nods her head over her shoulder.  “Shall we?”

Oliver holds his arm out for her to grab onto.  “We shall.”

The next few hours of the night go by quickly, with lots of laughter, lots of dancing, and several shots. Roni, however, holds back, finding any excuse she can to drink less than everyone else. She has a job to do.

Anxiety looms overhead like a raincloud, though Roni thanks her lucky stars for the incessant chatter and haze of drunkenness flooding the room. No one seems to feel the same vibes she’s feeling, which is good. She works hard to keep it that way.

It’s 11:50pm when Roni finds herself sitting on the couch beside her now supremely drunk boyfriend. The hands of her watch feel almost threatening, and she knows she doesn’t have much time left to execute her plan.

She pats Oliver’s knee as she rises to her feet, and he frowns immediately. He reaches forward to take her hand in his. “Hey, where are you going?”  He sounds like a pouty child, and despite her nerves, it makes Roni laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” she assures him. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom. Okay?”

“It’s almost midnight!” Oliver protests, refusing to let go of her hand.

“So? It’ll be my last normal pee before the world shuts down.”

This time Oliver laughs once he processes her words. “Yeah, you’re right,” he slurs. “But hurry back! You’ve gotta kiss me at midnight, okay?”

Something about his words tugs at Roni’s heartstrings, and she reaches forward to run her knuckle along his cheek. He’s looking up at her like a nervous little boy, his eyes the size of the moon, and she can’t help herself but to lean forward and press a little kiss into his forehead.  “I promise,” she says softly, “I’ll be right back.”

Oliver smiles, bouncing a little bit on the cushions of the couch. “Okay!”

As Roni ascends the stairs leading to her and Oliver’s shared bedroom, the pounding of her own heart in her ears almost drowns out the music entirely.  Truth be told, she has no idea what she’s expecting out of this. How long will she be gone? Does a full day in the past only equate to seconds in the present day? Will she really be back in time for midnight? What happens if she takes too long, and when everyone comes up to look for her she’s gone without a trace?

Most importantly, will she wake up in the morning to a phone call from her mother, as if she’d never passed?

Roni closes the door to their bedroom and begins preparing everything she needs. She retrieves a blindfold from her bedside drawer and pulls the tape recorder out from under the bed, biting back the fear rising in her throat.

What is she even going to say when she sees her mother? Is she going to cry? Is she going to be eleven years old again, or is current twenty-six year old Roni going to swoop in and confuse the hell out of everyone?

In hindsight, these are the questions that Roni figures she should have thought through before even considering this.  But the closer it gets to midnight, the less amount of time she knows she has.

So she leans down and pushes play on the tape recorder.

Her own voice plays from the speakers.

It is nearing midnight on December 31st, 1999. A new millennium is fast approaching.

Roni clears her throat, preparing the blindfold by folding it in her lap as the recording continues.

You are twenty-six years old, living with your twenty-seven year old boyfriend Oliver in the year 1999. Today, you will go back to the year 1985 in order to prevent your mother, Tanya Rachel Elliot, from getting behind the wheel of her car. I will give you a few moments to prepare.

The tape is quite repetitive and self explanatory, but everything that Roni had read about this whole process had explained that that type of speaking was necessary- albeit tedious.  

Roni had sat down with a blank tape and a microphone to record this a week ago, and it had sat untouched until this moment. Listening to it is surreal, but at the same time, comforting. She feels more confident than she ever had when she’s attempted this, and although it is a somewhat terrifying feeling, she is excited.

With one last long breath, Roni wraps the blindfold around her eyes, tying it tightly against the back of her head but still attempting not to mess up her makeup.

Take a moment to fully clear your mind. Take several deep breaths, in through your nose…. out through your mouth. Slower, now. Do this several times.

Roni obeys her own voice, allowing herself to breathe.  When she’s certain not a single bit of light is peeking through the blindfold, she lies back against the headboard of her bed, relaxing fully for the first time. 

Roni from the tape recorder takes a deep breath, as if she too is nervous.

It is June 16th, 1985.  You are lying on your bed, in your bedroom that you have slept in since your birth, and it is only 9:30am on June 16th, 1985.  Your mind accepts this completely.  It is 9:30am on June 16th, in the year 1985.   Your mother is in the kitchen at this very moment, cooking breakfast for you.  She is humming softly to herself.  She is alive.  Your mind accepts this absolutely.  Soon you will awaken, at which time it will be 9:30am, on the morning of June 16th, in the year 1985.

Roni’s heart continues to pound, because god, she hopes this works. She swallows a lump rising in her throat and concentrates all of her efforts on the recording.

It is currently 9:30 in the morning on June 16th, 1985.  Your mother, Tanya Rachel Elliot, is alive and cooking you breakfast.  She is happy.  It is 1985.  As you lie here in your childhood bedroom, your mother is here in this very moment.  Your mother is present.  Your mother is alive and cooking you breakfast.  You can smell the blueberry muffins she’s making for you.

Roni takes a deep inhale through her nose.  She concentrates all her efforts on bringing to mind the smell of the blueberry muffins she distinctly remembers her mother making for her the morning of the day she passed. She doesn’t realize she’s been anxiously twisting the mood ring on her finger this entire time.

June 16th, 1985.  June 16th, 1985.  It is a completely sunny day, not a single cloud in sight. It is hot, the perfect kind of day to go swimming.  Your mother is downstairs making you blueberry muffins, and you will ask her to take you swimming the moment you get downstairs on the morning of June 16th, 1985.  You will convince her not to leave for work today  She will not get behind the wheel.  She will not get into the accident.

Roni goes there in her brain, remembering the morning of her mother’s passing in as vivid detail as she possibly can.   She alerts every one of her senses to take in what this feels like; what her childhood bedroom smells like while the muffins waft in through the vent, what her fluffy comforter feels like beneath her body.  She feels frustrated that this isn’t happening quickly enough,  and lets out another long, drawn out sigh.

She can do this.

Your mind accepts this absolutely.  It is 9:30am on June 16th, 1985.  You have travelled back in time.  Soon, you will open your eyes, and you will see your old childhood bedroom.  You will walk into the hallway of the home you share with your mother, Tanya Rachel Elliot, and you will walk downstairs to find her cooking breakfast for you.  It is the morning of June 16th, 1985.  Your mind wholeheartedly accepts this.

Slowly but surely, Roni feels herself drifting ever so slightly.  It starts with the feeling of falling asleep; a faint buzzing of the nerves in her hand causing her to want to twitch.  Her body is going to sleep, which is something she read was not only normal, but a good sign.  As long as she can keep her mind awake.

The tape recording continues, repeating almost the exact same sentence worded differently each time, and Roni allows herself to become swept up in her own imagination.  She smells her breakfast.  She feels the warmth of her princess bed sheets on her tiny twin sized bed. She hears the birds chirping outside of her window, and her mother humming softly to herself downstairs.  And mostly, she focuses on the words being said over the tape recorder.

It is 9:30am, the morning of June 16th, 1985.

There is a ringing in her ears that starts off very faint, and grows into a sort of buzz.  Roni has heard this noise before-- during early mornings in which she’s just woken up and realizes she has more time before she needs to get out of bed.  It’s the gentle buzz of sleep washing over her like waves on the shore, slowly at first-- just teasing at the tips of her toes, then again with more force.  She’s not going to sleep right now-- she knows this for a fact.  But something is happening, slowly and then all at once, and it’s a strangely comforting feeling.

The buzzing continues, blending with the sound of Roni’s own voice from the speakers of the tape recorder, and Roni remains as relaxed as she possibly can.  The feeling spreads up her legs, manifesting as what feels like a ball in her stomach, and then as warmth all through her nervous system. The tips of her ears grow hot as the ringing grows louder, and then all at once, everything sounds as though she is underwater.  Her body feels heavy.

Holy shit, this is working.

Colorful pictures begin to form in Roni’s mind, flashing by so quickly she can hardly tell what they are at first.  They settle into a nice comfortable pace after a moment, flashing before her like a slideshow with sounds so faint she can hardly make them out.  Try as she might, she can’t seem to focus on any of them, especially the more vibrant they become. 

Is this how this is supposed to feel?

It’s a strange mix of colors and memories suddenly--bright red memories of when she was small, blue memories of high school, green memories of moving in with her grandmother-- and they’re all spinning together with her now standing in the middle.  She doesn’t remember standing before, but suddenly here she is with the overwhelming sense that she needs to walk.  It isn’t necessarily a threatening feeling,  but Roni gets the sense that if she doesn’t move, she’ll be swept away and disappear altogether.  The incessant flashing causes her to grow increasingly dizzy, but not nauseous, (not yet anyway), so she takes her first step.

It feels like a dream.  The kind of dream where you know you need to run, but you can’t.  Where your legs are moving slower than they’ve ever moved before, as if they’ve got weights tied to them.

Through a fog, Roni hears her mother’s voice, and although she can’t see her through the massive jumble of dreamlike memories playing like a movie before her, she reaches out for her.  She tries to call to her with all her might, but no sound comes out-- and the energy put forward just for the simple act of using her voice causes actual pain to Roni’s side.  It feels like she’s crashed into an invisible wall, and she nearly topples to the ground.

But still, she persists.

The memories blur together even more now, and Roni’s beginning to see spots as if she’s been rubbing her eyes for too long. It’s getting harder and harder to walk, yet despite her struggles, Roni isn’t scared.  She pushes on, one foot in front of the other as slow as molasses, blinking through the fog to find something-- anything-- that will lead her to her mother.

The voice she’d heard earlier grows louder, but it is completely unrecognizable.  She isn’t sure if it’s her mother, or even a female at all for that matter, but it is comforting.  She can barely make out the words “Are you alright?”  And she knows she’s close.

Roni reaches her arm out, despite some invisible resistance, hoping that whoever (or whatever) it is that can see her right now will help her.  This, however, seems to use up the last of her energy, and she collapses into another seemingly invisible wall.

The blow is a lot harsher than she’d expected and Roni falls to her knees.  The colors are all gone now; all that remains are the black spots in her eyes which are molding together. She’s not entirely sure whether they’re spots or they’re people.  Strangely enough, however, the darker her vision gets, the less afraid she becomes.  She feels herself smile, relaxing into the ground as the black spots now take more of a shape.  She knows what this is.  She knows she’s safe.

It takes a few attempts, but finally she manages to speak the word she’s been hoping for this entire time?

“Mom?”

And then everything goes black.

---------

11:46pm, December 31st, 1924

It feels like only seconds later when Roni stirs.  She feels air being blown onto her face, and without even opening her eyes yet, she feels terribly hungover.

What happened last night?  She hadn’t had that much to drink, had she?  She remembers taking a shot with Oliver, and heading upstairs… did she black out after that?

She opens her eyes groggily, prepared to be greeted by harsh and unfriendly sunlight-- but she is instead greeted by an unfamiliar British voice and a dark, cold night.

“Yes! Yes, wake up, there’s a good girl…”  A hand brushes her hair off of her forehead and helps to sit her up a bit more, (which does not help her headache in the slightest), and once her eyes fully open she notices a stranger smiling down at her.  She doesn’t recognize anything about this boy, but his presence is somewhat comforting, and he smiles at her like he’s happy to see her.

“Hello!” He says quickly,  “Good evening!  Yes, hi, I think you may have just passed away in my arms and then risen from the dead,  and I want to help you but I’m genuinely not even sure where to begin so please stay awake and tell me what happened to you because--”

It’s strangely familiar and yet foreign at the same time. This is definitely New York. She knows these streets like the back of her hand, but something is off.  The buildings look different and it doesn’t smell like gas and cigarettes, and this strange British boy dressed like he’s from another century is holding her in his arms rambling about her dying.  

“Wait,” Roni says slowly, cutting him off.  She lifts her aching head to get a better look at her surroundings.  This is definitely not where she had planned to end up.

Slowly, as if scared that any motion is going to shatter this strange illusion she’s found herself in, Roni turns back to the boy.  She refuses to allow herself to be scared yet, because she isn’t fully convinced this isn’t a dream.  With all of her might, she attempts to keep her voice calm when she speaks.

“What year is it?”

The boy scoffs at her question, and Roni doesn’t know why it irritates her so much.  

“You’re joking,” he says.  “What kind of question--”

“I’m serious,” Roni snaps.  “What. Year. Is it.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion at her sudden outburst and the sense of urgency behind her question, and he shakes his head when he replies.  “Is this some kind of trick question?  It’s 1924.  But you wouldn’t be able to tell from your...er, costume here.  What do you call this sort of dress anyway?  If you don’t mind my saying so, it’s alarmingly short.”

And now Roni does allow herself to panic.

She scrambles out of the boy’s arms quickly despite the pounding in her head.  Her legs feel a bit shaky, especially on the uneven road beneath her feet.  “No,” she says softly to herself, spinning around to try and catch sight of something that might feel less strange.  “No, this isn’t right. It’s…. it’s supposed to be the 80s.”

“Miss?”  British boy is at it again, rising to his feet and stepping cautiously towards her.  “Did I say something?  If you stay calm, maybe I can help--”

“Calm!” Roni exclaims.  “You want me to be calm right now?  In fucking 1924?”

He seems both shocked and pleased at her words.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t beg my pardon! Don’t… don’t beg anything from me, just-- leave me alone.”  Roni staggers a bit, then stops herself, entirely unsure of where her she wants her feet to take her.  “Let me figure this out.”

“Gee,” he says quietly, almost to himself.  He chuckles.  “Never heard a woman swear like that.  It’s kind of nice.”

Roni stops, turning around on her heels and shooting him a look of disbelief and fury.  “Did you just say…. ‘Gee?’”

“I did, yeah.” The boy nods taking a step towards her.  “Look, now you’re very obviously going through something here, so why don’t we just calm down--”

“This is a dream.”  Roni nods her head, completely ignoring every word out of his mouth.  “This is absolutely a dream.  And I’m going to wake up any second now.”

British boy isn’t sure what exactly to say in response to her, and the whole situation grows increasingly more awkward by the second.  He takes a breath like he’s going to say something, then closes his mouth and exhales loudly through his nose.

“Pinch me,” Roni continues, holding out her arm for him.

“Pardon?”

“Seriously.”  Roni nudges her arm aggressively into the boy’s, and he glances briefly down at where their skin meets.  “Pinch me.  Do it.”

He hesitates once more before that awful smirk appears once more.  “I’m deeply flattered, darling, but at least buy me dinner first.”

Roni groans and throws her hands up in frustration.  “Oh my god, can you just chill with that for like, a sec, dude?”

Laughing softly, he shakes his head as if he, too, cannot believe the situation unfolding in front of him.  “I understood only about three words of that, maybe, and it’s clear to me you don’t want my help. I apologize for saving you from practically braining yourself on the ground here, and if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting home now.”

When he turns, the light brushes his skin for a split second-- long enough for Roni to notice his swollen and purpling eye, and it catches Roni off guard.  He’s barely gotten two steps in when she calls out to him.  “Wait!”

He turns around looking irritatingly pleased, as if he was expecting her to call to him.  “Yes?”

“Did…”  She licks her lips to stall--because she’s certain she already knows the answer-- before pointing at his eye.  “Did I do that?”

It only takes him a split second to answer, and if Roni had blinked, she’d have missed his face falling for a split second.  “What, the eye? You did, yeah.”

She gasps.  “I did?”

“Yeah.”  He takes a step closer.  “You were flailing around and you socked me square in the eye.”

“Oh my god.”

“Can I be on my way now, or did you want to get another good blow in?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Roni is mostly talking to herself. She tugs at the bottom of her dress, becoming painfully aware of how inappropriately dressed she is for this moment in time.

“Well, for starters, we could get you home and into something a little bit warmer. But you never answered my question about what happened to you, so I’m really not sure where to take you.”

Roni feels like she could puke, and she looks back at the boy with tears threatening to fall. “I don’t…. know where you would take me either.”

Genuine concern flashes across his face, and he exhales softly. “You’re seriously scared, aren’t you?”

Nodding slowly, Roni feels the first tear slip from her eye.  “Yeah, I am.”

“Well don’t cry, love.  We’ll get this figured out. Where did you come from?”

How does she answer that? What does she even say that isn’t going to sound absolutely fucking absurd?  “I think…. I mean…”  She sighs, avoiding his eyes when she answers the question.  “1999.”

He blinks once. Then twice.  Roni can tell that it’s not registering in his head, and he almost wants to laugh but, bless him, he’s being so kind. “Come again?”

Roni buries her face in her hands, wishing more than anything that she didn’t have so much makeup on so that she could rub at her eyes. She groans, not even attempting to hide her tears anymore.  “I think I came from the future. I don’t know. I don’t know how I got here and this sounds so fucking bizzare and you don’t have to help me because you don’t even know me, and I understand if you wanna just walk away right now.”  She lets out a shaky breath before continuing. “I have to be dreaming. Like, I have to be, right? I’m so screwed. What the fuck.”

British boy swallows, clearly itching to help her but completely unaware of where to even start. “I…” He closes his mouth, stammering to come up with a response before just settling on stepping towards her. “I’m so sorry.” He reaches forward to awkwardly stoke her arm, and it makes her want to cry even harder.   “I don’t understand.  But I want to help you.”

“This is insane,” Roni mutters, disregarding his words. “It has to be a dream. Like, it has to be.”

“I’m sure it is,” he says, trying and failing to be comforting. “I’m sure you’re going to go to sleep tonight, and wake up tomorrow morning and everything is going to be back to normal.”

Roni can tell even he doesn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, and she fully chokes out a sob now. “You’re being so nice to me,” she wails. “Why?”

“Why not?!” He raises his voice over her cries, as if it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard. “But, on the subject of going to sleep, where were you intending on staying tonight?”

“Oh god.” Roni ungracefully wipes at her nose. “I hadn’t even thought about that.  Is there like… a hotel nearby or something? None of this looks familiar. I know this area so well. Or at least, I do in… in the future.” The words feel stupid even coming out of Roni’s mouth, and her ears grow hot.

“I can think of something better.” The boy grins. “Stay at my place.”  

“What?!”

He only holds up his hand and continues. “That way, it won’t cost you anything, and at least you won’t be alone while you figure his situation out. You’ll have a friendly face with you tonight, and if in the morning, you don’t wake up from this dream back where you belong— which you will— we can figure out what you’re going to do next. Together.”

Roni sniffs. “Seriously?”

“Call me naive for moving so quickly, but I’m being completely serious, yes. Besides,” he shrugs, “I could use a friend tonight myself.”  There are no implications behind his words, just a sweet dimpled, smile that Roni wants to trust.

In any other situation, Roni would tell him he was crazy and continue on her way.  She knows better than to trust a random man with anything, especially in New York City.  But this is very obviously a dream, because that is the only solution Roni can come up with, and in any case, at least he’s being kind.

So fuck it, she thinks.  What other option does she have?  Find a hotel, spend money she doesn’t seem to have (since she’d left her purse in the fucking 90s, dammit), and stay in a weirdly unfamiliar place?  Or stay with someone she’s just met, who has already made it clear he wants to help her and doesn’t seem to have a malicious bone in his body?  The answer is clear as far as Roni is concerned.

How much weirder could this get?

Roni wipes at her nose again, smiling sadly at the dimpled boy in front of her. “Well,” she says slowly, “I may as well take you up on that.  Since this is just a dream, I reckon it can’t get much worse.”  She giggles softly, then quickly adds.  “If you’re sure I’m not imposing, that is.”

He laughs.  “Don’t be daft, of course you’re not.  I would not have offered if that were the case.  Come with me.”

Roni’s head is spinning just from his odd vocabulary, and she laughs to herself at how insane this whole situation is. Still, she follows him when he walks, falling comfortably into place beside him and matching his stride while willing her tears to dry. She shivers a bit, because for some reason 1924 feels much colder than 1999 did, and she wraps her arms around her middle.

“You must be freezing,” he says.  “Dressed like that, I mean.  Doesn’t leave much to the imagination, you know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed,” Roni states, matter-of-factly.  “This dress is hot as hell where I’m from.  And anyway, I’m allowed to dress however I want to, thank you very much. I could run through the streets naked if I wanted to and it would be fine.  Women can do whatever they want and it isn’t up to you to decide.”

“Do you want to run through the street naked?”  The boy isn’t looking at her, but Roni can see his smirk and it annoys her.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t.   But if I wanted to, I could.  What are you doing?”

The boy shimmies out of his coat, which doesn’t even seem to be very warm as it is, and holds it out to Roni.  “Here.”  Roni eyes the coat before slowly taking it from him as he continues.  “You’re right, there isn’t anything wrong with what you’re wearing.  You look beautiful.  But you’re cold, and don’t say you aren’t just because you want to make a point. I saw you shiver.  You need this more than I do.”

Roni huffs out a sigh, because dream boy is right, and she slips the coat on one arm at a time.  It smells strongly of cologne and, oddly, a bit like shoe polish, and although there really isn’t much to it, it does warm her up.  She’s about to thank him when he speaks again.

“What’s your name anyway?”

“Roni.”

It takes Roni a minute to realize he’s stopped walking, and when she turns around she’s met with the most confused yet amused smirk she’s ever seen.  “What?”

“As in… Ronald?”  He asks, a laugh very obviously threatening to bubble out.

Roni rolls her eyes.  “No.  As in Veronica.”

“Oh.”  He lets out a breath that he seems to have been holding, chuckling to himself.  “That  makes much more sense then.”  He resumes walking, and Roni picks up the pace to stay beside him.  “I’m Harry.  As in Harry.”

“Hello, Harry as in Harry.”  It’s Roni’s turn to laugh, because of course his name is Harry. That’s the most old-fashioned name she could ever picture for a British guy, and she applauds her dream brain for being so historically accurate.

Harry laughs to himself as they turn the corner.  “You’re funny, Veronica. I think I’m going to miss you when this dream ends.”

“You don’t even know me!”  Despite her words, Roni is smiling.  

“I know you gave me a black eye.”

And now Roni frowns.  “Yeah.  Sorry ‘bout that.” After a beat, she shrugs.  “Although I’m sure it wasn’t unwarranted.”

Harry ignores her slight dig. “And I know you come from the future.  1998 was it?”

“99,” Roni corrects, then shakes her head at herself.  “That’s so weird to think about.”

“What’s the future like, then?”

Roni laughs.  “It’s hard to say.  Different than this for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  But then again, who’s to say this is really 1924?  It’s just a dream.”

Harry snorts.  “I can assure you that this is really 1924, love.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

“Is it possible to actually travel through dreams?”  Harry rubs his hands together, trying to hide how cold he is.  

“I guess so.”  Roni shrugs.  “I mean, you’re looking at the proof right here, aren't you?”

“I suppose.”  The entire time Harry speaks, he’s got a smirk on his face.  It both annoys and intrigues Roni.

“It’s just weird,” Roni says.  “I guess I always pictured the roaring twenties to be more…. Roaring?”

Harry snorts. “I could take you somewhere roaring right now if that’s what you’d like.”

“What I’d like is to go to sleep to wake up in the real world,” Roni says through a laugh.  “Although yeah, it is kinda weird to see New York so… quiet right now.”

“It’s nearing midnight on New Years Eve,” Harry says, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Everyone is either downtown or asleep.”

Roni nearly stops walking.  “It’s New Years Eve here, too?!”

“I don’t know what it’s like in the future, Veronica, but yes.  It’s New Years Eve here, too.”

“So why aren’t you out celebrating?”

Harry smiles sadly to himself.  “Well. I was at work, and now I’m exhausted.”

“Oh.”  

The next few minutes pass in complete silence, with both of them trying to process everything that’s going on.  “So it’s almost 1925 for you?”

“For you as well, it seems. This way.”  Harry nods his head, turning down an alley.

Roni hesitates to follow him, chewing nervously on her bottom lip at the lack of light in the alleyway.  “Are you sure this is safe?”

Harry laughs, already ascending a set of wrought iron stairs that resemble a fire escape.  “Lived here the past two years.  It’s safe.”

This is just a dream, Roni reminds herself.  With a deep breath, she follows Harry up the steps as he unlocks the door..

Roni isn’t sure what exactly she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Harry flips a switch that lights the room, and Roni stands in the doorway taking it all in.  The entire apartment is about the size of her and Oliver’s bedroom, with one large living room that is connected to the smallest kitchen Roni has ever seen.  There are two doors, which Roni assumes lead to the bedroom and the bathroom, and it’s then that she becomes aware of the fact that she’s probably going to have to share a bed with dream boy.

Harry walks right on in, heading to the kitchen sink and speaking over his shoulder.   “Here she is,” he says,  “Would you like something to drink?”

Roni is only partly paying attention to him, looking around her and taking in her surroundings.  “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.  Also, make yourself at home.”  

Harry busies himself with washing his hands, and Roni realizes how tense she is.   She makes a conscious effort to drop her shoulders before taking her heels off.  She hadn’t realized how achey her feet were becoming until right now, and she curls her toes in an attempt to crack them.

“This is a nice place,” is all she can manage to say.

“Thank you! It isn’t much, but it keeps me warm.”  

When Harry finishes washing his hands, he dries them quickly before making his way back over to Roni.

“So,” he says, kicking his shoes off beside her heels.  “What brings you to 1924?”

Truthfully, it’s one of the strangest questions Roni has ever been asked, and she isn’t even sure how to answer it.  She laughs in spite of herself.  “You wanna hear the craziest thing you’ll ever hear in your life?”

Harry beams at her.  “More than anything in the world.”

“I don’t even know how I ended up here.”  Roni shrugs, trying to make sense of everything that has happened to her in the past twenty-four hours.  “I was trying to go back to 1985 to find my mom.  I was hoping that if I could get there, I could stop her from--”  Roni cuts herself off, letting out what would’ve been the rest of that sentence in a big sigh.   “I could change some things around.  That’s all.”

“I see.”  Harry nods.  “And you ended up here instead?”

“I don’t know how or why, but yeah.  Here I am.”

“Here you are.”   Harry nods, taking in a moment of silence before speaking again.  “Well, at any rate, we can at least make you comfortable while you’re here.  I’ll get you some clothes and some clean linens for my bed.”

“Oh you really don’t have to go through all the trouble--”

“I’m not letting you sleep in a dirty bed.”  Harry grins, heading towards a small closet in the corner of the room.  “You’ll have to help me remake the bed though.  I have the hardest time with those fitted sheets.”

“Of course.”  Roni watches Harry gather an armful of sheets from his closet, and it’s the most strangely surreal feeling of her life.  She feels like she’s in a movie, or at the very least, the most realistic dream she’s ever experienced.  She watches as Harry turns back to her and kicks the closet door closed behind him with a smile.  

“This way.”

Harry makes his way across the living room with Roni close on his heels, nudging the door open with his knee. It’s dark until Harry flips another switch, and all Roni sees before her is a medium sized, unmade bed, a dresser, a chair, and a ragged set of curtains over a small window. Harry drops the clean sheets onto his dresser and begins stripping the old sheets off of the bed.

Roni steps more into the room, fidgeting anxiously with the mood ring on her finger.  “Um,” is all she gets out.

Harry doesn’t stop his movements, but he looks up at her.  “Yes?”

“Are we-- uh, sharing the bed?”

Harry laughs as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.  “What?! Of course not, don’t be silly.  I’m taking the sofa.”

“But I don’t want to put you out or--”

“Nonsense.  Don’t say that.  It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t take the sofa.”

Roni doesn’t know if she’s relieved or upset, and she lets out a little laugh.  “You’re... Such a good dude, Harry.”

Harry chuckles.  “I take it ‘dude’ is a good thing.”

“In this case, yeah.”

The next few minutes are quiet but not uncomfortable. Harry and Roni work together to strip the bed entirely before placing the soft new sheets on the mattress.  It’s strangely comforting, even if Roni knows nothing about this boy,  and when she finds herself staring at him her cheeks grow hot.

“Thank you, by the way.” Roni’s voice is so soft when she speaks, it takes Harry a moment to realize she’s speaking at all.

“Did you say something?”

Roni clears her throat.  Not only is it unlike her to be timid in anyway, but she absolutely isn’t one to be rude-- even if this is all just a dream.  “I said thank you.  For…”  Roni gestures vaguely with her hands. “For believing me, I guess. I know it all sounds super crazy, and I’m still not 100% convinced that this isn’t all a dream, but still.  Thanks.  You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Oh.”  Harry grins a dimpled grin and resumes pulling the sheets across his bed.  “You’re welcome.”  He smooths out the sheet he’s just laid down, tucking it under the sides of the mattress.  “I’m still not positive it isn’t a dream either, but it would be rude of me to turn away a lost alien seeking refuge on our planet.”  Roni opens her mouth to once again protest, but Harry continues before she has the chance-- his smile growing wider by the moment.  “And anyway, I know I don’t have to do all this.  But I want to.   Least I can do, y’know?”

“Here.”  Annoyed, Roni doesn’t answer him, and instead reaches for the duvet that is laying across the back of the chair to hand it to Harry.  He’s still got that god-awful smirk on his face, and he takes his time to see what she’s offering him.  

Roni, however, is suddenly distracted by the blanket she’s holding.  “Oh cute, this is like, a quilt.  My grandma has like, a million of these.”

“Does she?” Harry cocks his head to the side, grinning almost sarcastically.  “How darling.”  He takes the comforter from Roni’s hands, taking it by the corners and flinging it across the bed.

Roni snorts.  “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

Harry laughs.  “A what?”

“You’re…”  Roni struggles to find words he’s going to understand.  “Annoying.  But in an endearing way.”

“Oh.”  Harry beams.  “‘Endearing.’  Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.”

“Don’t get used to it.”  Roni laughs.  “I’m just thankful to have you here during this nightmare.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Veronica.”  Harry finishes tucking the quilt in, and he smiles at her when he reaches for a pillow to place against the headboard.

“It’s Roni,” she corrects.  “Veronica is too formal.”

“1925 is the year of being formal,” Harry declares.  “I’ve decided it.”

“Well, I have not,” Roni says with a laugh  “It’s just Roni.”

Harry laughs as well, but he doesn’t say anything.  He busies himself with fluffing the pillow up, a lot more than necessary, all while looking at her with a dimpled smile from under his lashes.

The silence lingers just a tick too long, and Roni feels her stomach twist and turn.  She wants to say something-- anything-- to break the silence, but at the same time she almost enjoys feeling hot under his gaze.  The only thing that breaks the silence is the audible inhale she takes when she realizes she’s been holding her breath, and it makes Harry beam.

He straightens up and clears his throat.  “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.  I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted.   There are shirts in the top left drawer, pants in the top right.  I’m sorry I don’t have more to offer you but--”

“But you weren’t expecting a guest from like 75 years into the future.  I get it.”

“Yeah.”  Harry shakes his head but he’s laughing, making his way to the door.  “Well, Veronica, I sincerely hope for your sake that when you wake tomorrow, you’re in the correct time.  But for now,  I have genuinely enjoyed your company.  I’ll be sad to see you go so soon.”

His words tug at Roni’s heart, although she doesn’t know why.  “I have to say, I’ll be sad to leave  so soon.  But I appreciate your hospitality.  And your accent.”

Harry laughs a laugh that Roni hasn’t heard before.  It’s high pitched and it comes out of his mouth in a quick burst.  Her body’s natural reaction is to beam.  “Thank you,” he says.  “I’m very proud of the accent.”

“You should be!”

Another strangely loaded few moments pass, with words that Roni hasn’t even planned out just dancing on the tip of her tongue.  But before she can say anything, Harry clears his throat and begins to make his way out the door.

“Well, goodnight, Veronica.  Happy new year.”

Roni scoffs.  “Yeah, happy new year, Harold.”

Harry smirks.  “It’s just Harry.”

“Yeah well, it’s also just Roni but we can’t seem to get that squared away so here we are.”

With one last shake of his head, Harry laughs and closes the door behind him.  Roni isn’t exactly sure what it is she’s feeling  and although it is definitely foreign, this time it isn’t necessarily bad.

Five minutes later, Roni flips the light switch off and crawls into Harry’s bed wearing a long t-shirt of his.  She’s decided to skip the pants for tonight, opting for comfort instead of modesty since she knows she is going to be out of here come morning.

The sheets are cold and soft, and their smell is comforting the second she burrows under them.  She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, and she knows she’s going to be asleep in under five minutes. She can still see the light from the living room peeking through the crack underneath the bedroom door, indicating that Harry hasn’t yet gone to sleep.

Roni wonders what he’s doing, and she feels a pang of guilt when she thinks about the fact that she’s stealing his bed tonight.  She knows this is just a dream, of course, but at the same time she’s never going to forget this 1924 boy who was so gracious to her-- even if  he’s nothing but a dream.

The last thought Roni has before drifting into unconsciousness is how badly she wishes she had more time with this boy.

#so hi #the gif i chose is because in my mind Roni is anya taylor joy #but let me know who you picture her as! #Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanficton #Harry fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles au #harry au #one direction au #au #harry styles flluff #harry fluff #one direction fluff #fluff

[loudsuitlover]

The girl, the miss, the mrs

It wasn’t very often that uncle Harry came to visit and that was why every time he did, it was a special ocasion for the Weatherfords, specially for Gemma since her little brother seemed to be farther and farther away each passing year. His niece, Laura, used to have a little, girly crush on him when she was little, despite him being her uncle but the fact that he could only visit once every two months or so made it special enough for her to wait impatiently for her second favourite man- after her daddy- to come visit but now Laura was 15 and he was 35 and sometimes Harry really felt as if she wouldn’t trust him the password for somebody else’s phone. And then there was George, Gemma’s and Asher’s little boy, who was now 7 years old and thought Harry was some random guy with a grandpa hat that came home every once in a while. 

This time around, the family of four was having a little snack while deciding on which movie to watch, as father and daughter pretended not to be mad at each other ever since Asher had completely embarrassed her in front of her friends when he had asked Eric Shepelld to keep his hands off of his little girl. And surely, Asher was the one Laura blamed when Eric had ditched her for Savannah Meyers who was, according to her, so much prettier and cooler than her but mostly had a cooler dad. Gemma had her arm around her shoulders as her not-so-little girl cuddled up to her mum. 

“Where’s uncle Harry, mum?”

“He’s upstairs. He’s still struggling with jetlag, you know.” 

“I hope he wakes up soon so he can tell us stories about Japan then.” She sighed. “That way I can stop thinking about the other men in the world. They’re all... donuts.” She helped herself as her eyes set on his little brother who was carefully reading his new book about dinosaurs right under the lamp. 

“You are gorgeous, Laura.” Asher sighed, resting his weight on his elbows over his knees. “And I’m not saying that because I’m your father.” 

She just glared at him, her jaw clenched and her lips pursed on a thin line. Gemma gave him an encouraging smile as if saying go on, baby and in those moments Harry was jealous of what they had. He could wait for another minute before he walked inside the living room, giving them time enough for father and daughter to make peace. 

“And... I’m sorry that I said that. It’s just hard for me to understand my little girl is not so little anymore...” He smiled when he noticed the corners of her lips were turning into a little smirk. “It doesn’t feel like that long when you would hide under my desk in the office and giggled when I pretended I didn’t know you were there.” 

“I reckon I wouldn’t even fit in there now, dad.” She smiled. 

“I know, baby, but still...” 

She giggled then like she used to and changed seats so she could hug her dad instead and he gave her a kiss on her head. 

“Anyway you did her a favour.” Gemma said. “That Eric guy is a... donut” she winked at her. 

She ended up giggling and pushing her father away while he complaint about how she would only cuddle mum and never him and then when Gemma said aawww, she begged them not to get all ew with them. Uncle Harry then took that as his cue to save his niece as he walked inside the living room. 

“Oh, hi there, Sleeping Beauty.” Gemma chirped. 

“Only without the Beauty.” Her husband joked making Harry chuckle and doing the gesture with his hand, almost as if he was going to flip the bird, but not flipping any. Asher laughed. 

“You want a cuppa or chocolate?” 

“Tea, please.” 

“Uncle, have a biscuit.” George encouraged him, pushing his little glasses against his eyes, surely getting the glass all dirty. “Mum and I baked them in the morning!” 

“Mmm, sure, homemade biscuits. Thank you, George and thank you, Gem. Mum’s recipe?” 

“Always.” She smiled. 

He then took a seat on the lonely armchair and for a second there, looking at his sister and her family, he couldn’t help but think he was indeed lonely. He must truly be a lonely man then for it wasn’t that he hadn’t have a chance to have a family- or at least a lover- of his own but he must be a lonely man because he had always pushed the thought- and the possibilities- away. 

After about three hours of story telling and random questions from his sister and his brother in law and his niece complaining about that Eric Shepelld, they have had dinner and they have even discussed whether next Christmas was going to be at Gemma’s or at Anne’s. George had been allowed to stay up past bed time because the next day was a sunday anyway and it had been so long since he had even seen uncle Harry! 

“Oh Harry Edward!” Gemma joked making her brother raised his eyebrows and looked at her as his little nephew made himself comfortable on his lap. “You won’t believe what Asher found last time we went to mum’s.” She grinned, sitting down on the carpet as she opened one of the boxes they kept on the lowest part of their telly cupboard. “She had some trouble with the pipes and Asher was trying to help when he found the vhs tapes! You remember?” She grinned. 

“No way!” He grinned. “Like the ones from our childhood?” 

“Yes! There was even that movie you loved so much... How-”

“Rupert and the Timeless Town?” 

Asher laughed out loud but Harry didn’t even bother looking at him as Gemma narrowed her eyes and nodded. 

“Exactly Rupert and the Timeless Town.” 

“Oh, what a nice movie! How long was it? Like 45 minutes? And it felt like 2 hours to me!” He laughed. 

“Yeah, mum used to put that on when you wouldn’t stop climbing the kitchen furniture, remember?” 

He nodded while his niece laughed at him, shaking her head and asking her mum to put one of the two of them when they were little. She ended up putting Harry’s four years old birthday because she wanted to prove a point that even being four years younger than her he was still mean because that year he had wanted to throw a boys only party so that meant she was the only girl in the party and she was there because Anne had forced Harry to invite his sister too. 

“Oh my God!” Laura yelped laughing histerically at her uncle. “Why did you have that helmet of hair on?” 

“Hey!” He complaint. 

“Wait, seriously, did you have straight hair? What happened there?” She laughed. 

“Listen, Nana thought that hairstyle looked good on me, yeah?” 

The all went silent when on the screen, a tiny Harry with tiny legs and tiny arms tried to stop Gemma from coming inside the living room where the party was saying “no Gemma this is boys only space”, he frowned, “or are you a boy?” and then they all laughed when he gave her his signature devilish smirk which apparently he had since he was just a boy. 

“See? There he was being mean even though I was like double his size! Why did you want to throw a boys only party anyway? You loved girls!” Gemma laughed.

“Well not when I was 4 it seems!” He laughed. 

“Probably he was just fed up from girls because of you, GemGem.” Asher joked, securing his arm around his wife’s shoulders as she tried to push him away. 

The siblings looked at each other with a sad smile when their own Nana appeared on the tape, that old wise woman both had loved so much who was no longer with them and then they felt they heart beating stronger when they spotted their dad. Their parents were still together back then and even though Harry couldn’t really remember a time when they had been together, unlike Gemma, it was still nice to see it. Laura had been checking the DVDs, reading what her mum had carefully written on black sharpie, just copying what her own mother had written on the original VHS. And she kept seeing the same name over and over next to the one of her uncle. Y/N’s 7th birthday. Y/N and Harry’s prom. Y/N and Harry’s play. Y/N’s 16th birthday. 

It was weird that she felt as if she shouldn’t ask about her but she was damn curious for uncle Harry and her seemed to be pretty close and she barely remembered her uncle with a girl, even before she went to LA on her dancing scolarship when she was just 12 years old. There was a whole envelope with Harry’s name on it and inside lots of DVDs. Summer 2016. Jamaica 2017. Moving in. Y/N’s graduation. Japan 2019. Mitch and Sarah’s wedding. I love you. 

She was sure, even if she shouldn’t really ask about her directly, if they had filmed Y/N’s 7th birthday, she must have been around for Harry’s, so she search for it but didn’t have much luck. And then she found Harry’s 15th birthday and she just got up from the couch and went to change the DVD. Her uncle smiled at her amused as she grinned mischeviously. 

“We’re gonna see uncle Harry when he was my age.” She smiled. 

“15 years old Harry was one of my favourite Harrys.” Gemma grinned. “You remember how low you used to wear your pants?” She laughed. “And how mum always begged you to please put them nice and high on your waist?” She laughed. 

“Oh, shut up, and let me remind you that was your time with bangs. Man I hope you’re in the video too.” 

“I’m not.” She laughed. “I’m the one filming.” 

And true to her word, her voice could be heard as she filmed Anne finishing up the last details to Harry’s cake on the kitchen. Robin had been taking bowl after bowl of crisps and nachos and olives to the garden and soft voices were heard on the background. 

“Tell your brother to come downstairs, sweetheart.” Anne told her daughter. “Everyone’s already here.”

“Everyone except Y/N.” She said, and her daugher took a chance to steal a glance at her uncle who had cleared his throat and straightened his back as if he was nervous Y/N would appear. “Which is why he hasn’t come upstairs yet.” 

Anne just smiled. 

“Just tell him to come downstairs and please, honey, don’t mess with them.” 

“Oh, I won’t mum. I’m a uni girl, remember? I won’t play silly, teenage games now.” She promised, making her mum laugh and shake her head. “Edward!” She called, filming the empty stairs. “Your girlfriend just arrived!” She lied. 

Whitin two seconds, her little brother was at the top of the stairs, her short but already curly hair almost covering his eyes. And his pants, just like she had mentioned before, very low on his hips, almost leaving his bun exposed. He walked down the stairs rolling his eyes before he narrowed them to his sister.

“Y/N’s not my girlfriend.” He said. “And she’s not even here yet.” 

“But you wished she’d be.” 

“We’re just friends.” He shook his head. “Grow up Gemma.” 

Just a bit of annoying jokes on her part later, the bell rang and Harry almost rushed to open the door. There she seemed to be, Laura thought, that Y/N girl was standing there and her 15 years old uncle looked like his little brother George on Christmas Eve. He was in love with her. It only took her a moment to realize that and then she really took a long look at you, or at the 14 years old version, with very long hair and royal blue converse and a dress. You smiled at the camera. 

“Hi, Gem.” You said. “Happy birthday, Haz.” 

“Happy birthday.” He smiled. “I mean thank you.” 

39 years old Gemma laughed just as hard as 19 years old Gemma had laughed back then and it was heartbreaking for her to think that had been 20 years ago. 

“Who’s that?” Laura dared to ask then. 

“That’s... That’s Harry’s...” Gemma stopped there, licking her lips as if that was going to help her come up with the way to describe you. 

“Girl.” Harry smiled. “That’s my girl.” 

“What?” Laura yelped. “My uncle Harry has a girl! Tell me about her.”

“Well, I had a girl.” He smiled. “She’s.... Actually I don’t know where she is now.” 

“You don’t know where she is?” 

The video kept playing on the background as Gemma asked her daughter to be more discreet about love topics and really the only person who was still paying attention to the tape was Harry who kept thinking she had always been the most beautiful woman on Earth. The last thing he had heard about her was that she had gotten engaged but that was right before he had gone to Japan and he remembered he had gotten so drunk when Niall had told him because damn, because that was Y/N we were talking about, his Y/N, the girl he had been in love with even before he knew what love was and now she was engaged to someone else and he hadn’t even seen her in a year. He had called her though and he had just said Hey love, I hope you’re happy and congratulations on your engagement. You really do deserve the world. And then he had gone to Japan and he hadn’t known anything new from her. She might even be married by then. 

And after a couple more videos of Gemma as a little girl, Harry had taken little George to bed and then they all had gone to bed themselves. But his niece, she had been up until late on her room, waiting for her dad’s snoring as an indication that she could go out then and then she had tiptoed downstairs and she had grabbed a forest fruit yogurt and had carefully closed the living room door and then she had had a look at her uncle’s personal tapes, even though she knew she shouldn’t; but she was too curious to know why someone as successful as her uncle- he was a rockstart for crying out loud- was always so lonely and she thought, since she had spent three whole years away and her mum had asked her to be more discreet, than maybe the best way to learn about her was to watch the tapes. She wasn’t going to tell him, anyway, she wasn’t going to tell anyone. It was for her eyes only, so she curled herself on the couch and sat back as the LA roadside took one hundred memories back to her mind. She had been there herself. 

But then her uncle, very young, and very handsome might she had, was driving and grinning like she had never seen him grin with one hand on his cheek bone, his elbow resting on the window, and the other on the wheel. He must have been 21, maybe 22 years old, because she remember him like that when she was younger. 

“So” The voice of a girl asked her uncle from behind he camera “where are you taking me, Haz?” 

“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” He grinned. 

“Oh, you’re so boring for the camera!” She pretended to exasperate before she turned the camera to herself so it was filming her. “Hello kids!” She grinned and Harry laughed on the background. 

“Kids?” 

“Yeah! We can show this to our kids when we have them.” 

She was filming herself but then she was staring right at Harry so the camera was only getting her profile. 

“Keep your eyes on the road.” She smiled. 

“I love you.” 

Laura froze in place. Not because she didn’t already know her uncle loved that girl. He had said it, that she was his girl but she had just never heard her uncle say that to anyone and even though we all know everybody loves somebody, for some reason it always surprise us to hear them say it for the first time. I love you. And she smiled. 

You talked to the camera then and explained how those were your first vacations alone after two years of dating and Laura raised her eyebrows as she watched you laughing because Harry had said it would have been longer if you hadn’t systematically rejected me four years straight and you swatted his shoulder and I’m driving, love, careful. 

Laura thought she truly had never seen a girl prettier than Y/N, not even Savannah Meyers, or her own mother when she was young- even though her mother was just as pretty- but she swore she had never seen a prettier smile. And then she kept falling more and more in love with the two of them together because truly it was better than any romcom she had ever seen for they were just laughing and filming each other as if they were the most precious things to film in the world and stealing kisses and visiting small beaches and having mango smoothies on the street. She had counted how many times her uncle had said he loved her- 32 and she had felt her heart beating so fast and so strong as if that girl could ever be her at all. 

And then she watched her graduation and how Harry had filmed every single expression, always zooming on her when there was a crowd and how he had edited the whole video about her, as if she was the most important, or rather the only important person, in a graduation of three hundred people. So Y/N was an artist too- or at least she had graduated as that. “Okay, you guys want a photo like a married couple?” Y/N’s classmate who had been on the video along with her asked and “get in here, love”. And then she smiled endearingly as she watched her uncle, who must have been 24 then, rolling his eyes with the biggest grin ever as you asked him questions. 

“So hello, Mr Styles.” She asked and giggled. “How does it feel to be the boyfriend of a Liberal Arts graduated?”

“It feels pretty good, yeah.” He smiled. “Specially when she looks the way she looks.” 

“How does she look?” Laura could hear the smile on her voice even though she didn’t know that girl. 

“She looks like a dream. You know, Miss Stranger” he grinned “sometimes I look at her and think how is she even real?” 

“Mmmhmm.” The girl said, urging him to go on. “Are you proud?” 

“Very, very proud.” He grinned. “She used to paint in my room when we were just kids and even when she painted just rag dolls and suns with smiley faces I knew she would be an artist.” She hit him playfully and he held her hand to his chest. “I know she could get anything she wanted. She’s an angel. And... Now that she’s done with uni... I wonder where she’s gonna live... I mean.... Do you think she will still live on a student’s apartment? She’s no longer a student...” He grinned after looking at her and Laura could only imagine the way she was looking at him. “Baby, do you wanna move in with me?” 

And then the imagine was gone and and a very bright, very blue sky was being filmed as the sound of the image consisted on kisses and low declarations of love and yes, yes, I love you. 

Harry woke up at 2:15 am and damned the jetlag as he rubbed his eyes. It had taken him pretty long to fall asleep anyway, what with the thought of you creeping into his mind every time he let his guard down. He hated that it was still so painful to think about you and he hated that he didn’t know if you were, at this very moment, also up, if there was something keeping you up at night, or rather- he didn’t even want to think about it but it was possible anyway- or maybe even a kid. For you were 34 years old and your birthday was just a couple months away and for some reason he thought he would still love that child because it was yours and he loved everything that had to do with you. He looked to the side of the bed, his green eyes set on the wall, he really needed to stop thinking about you as if you were the only woman on Earth because the truth was, you weren’t his, and you weren’t his because he had let you go so if he had done that before, he shouldn’t be feeling like this now. He thought a cup of tea would do, or surely it wouldn’t but at least he would stop torturing himself with the thought that maybe you were also awake somewhere else, wondering what had been of him, or maybe making love to someone else. 

He didn’t expect to see the TV on, and much less did he expect to see his niece kneeling down in front of the TV about to put another DVD on. Her hazel eyes bore into his, wide opened, knowing she had been cut like a deer in white lighst and then she bit her bottom lip and ask him for forgiveness. 

“You couldn’t sleep?” He asked instead and she shook her head. “Yeah, broken hearts are certainly not known for being heavy sleepers... I was about to make myself a cup of tea, you want one?” 

She nodded and then he walked to the kitchen and she picked everything up and left the living room as if nobody had been there before. She founder her uncle on the kitchen, silently making a cup of tea with the door carefully closed. She took a seat on one of the kitchen stools and held her hot cup with both hands so she could get some heat on her system. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“At you?” She nodded. “Why would I be?” 

“’Cause... You know... I’ve been watching your videos... And that was private.” 

“Well why did you watch them?” 

“Because I was curious.” She shrugged. “It’s just... You’ve never brought a girl home or anything.... And I wanted to know why that was.” 

“And that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He shrugged. “I get it. That’s okay.” He smiled. 

“Can I... Can you tell me about her?” She asked, hoping her uncle with feel sorry for how Eric Shepelld had made her stop believe in love and thinking he was such a romantic he would like to change that so she just looked down at the table, trying very hard her face looked like she was going through such a hard time but without looking at him so he would never suspect she was trying to manipulate him if only a little bit. 

“Yeah.” He smiled. “What would you like to know?” 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We had friends in common.” He smiled. “When we were seven.” 

Laura giggled. 

“My best friend at the time, Mark, had a twin sister, Steph, and we always had to hang with her because her mum would force us.” He shrugged. “And then Steph met Y/N at dancing class and they became friends. Ever since then we were inseparable.” He smiled. 

“So she was your best friend?” 

He nodded. 

“She was one of my best friends at the beginning. It was Mark, Steph, Y/N and me and then... As we grew older we grew closer too and I reckon by eighth grade she was my best friend, yeah.” 

“But then you fell in love with her?” She wiggled her eyebrows and Harry chuckled, having a sip of his cup of tea. 

“Well, yeah.” He laughed. “I mean you know throught the years, even though my friendship with her was always a constant, we had time when we were closer and times when she started hanging out with some other people and so did I and stuff but I remember at the end I would always look for her and she would always look for me.” He shrugged. “And then when we were fifteen, her parents got a divorce and her mum moved away so she had to change schools and all that and... By that time we weren’t that close anymore because I was at the football team in school and she was in the art club and well we had different enviroments let’s say but we would still see each other at my house or hers.” He smiled. “Until then she had been like an annoying little sister who I really, really loved but then when she moved away... I just couldn’t get her out of my head. I was fifteen years old and I couldn’t stop thinking about her and then she came back to visit and I swear every time she looked prettier and... Yeah, I guess I fell in love with her.” 

“But she still lived away?” 

“Right.” He nodded. “She moved back with her dad the next year.” 

“And then you told her!” 

He chuckled. 

“No.” He laughed. “I was so afraid she was gonna say no! Plus when she came back she was like the new toy. Everyone wanted to go with her and she would say yes every now and then and at the end she ended up dating Mark.” 

“Your friend Mark?” Her hazel eyes opened wide and Harry just nodded. “And you never asked her out?” Laura smiled. 

It seemed endearing to her, seeing her uncle as if he was back a teenager, talking about high school sweethearts and asking girls out on dates and the kind of things he would never do now so she couldn’t help but feel her heart tightening for him. He shook his head, a little smirk on her lips. 

“It was so obvious that we liked each other.” He laughed. “You know, before I went to the X-Factor, she had broken up with Mark a few months before and everyone thought we were together and I mean we would go on dates, without calling them dates but whatever, they were what they were... And then right before I did the audition she told me.”

“She told you what? Uncle be more specific!” 

He laughed. 

“She told me she loved me.” He smirked, as if wanting to keep that a secret and Laura just nodded, giving him a smile. 

“And then you kissed her.” She reasoned. 

“You see,” he smiled “that’s what I should have done but I was so nervous I just...” 

“You didn’t kiss her?” She exasperated. “You truly were an idiot.” 

“That’s what she said.” He chuckled. “But I didn’t even know how to. I mean, if you’ve seen the tapes, you know what we’re talking about. She looked like she couldn’t possibly be real.” 

“So what happened?” 

“So after the X-Factor ended and the band was formed and we were recording our first album-”

“THAT LONG?” 

He smiled. 

“I told her I was in love with her.” 

“And?”

“And she called me an idiot just like you did before.” 

“Well you were!” She laughed. 

He nodded his head, tidying up the kitchen and feeling like his entire body had been taken up by a thousand butterflies and he just washed his cup before he glanced back at his niece. 

“Wait but in your first holidays together” he smiled, amused that she had been seeing that “she said that it was your first holidays together after two years of dating... But in the X Factor you were how old? 16?” 

He nodded, grinning like a child. 

“We broke up. We were on and off for a couple of years but I was never home and she was... Well she didn’t know if she wanted to be with me or not and... Yeah, but then when we were older... It was just silly to fight it. I kept being drawn to her so, yeah, we got together for good... or so we thought.” Before his niece could ask, he rest his elbows on the kitchen island and gave her a smile as she yawned. “When I was touring my second album she was offered a project where she had to travel all around the world and we didn’t really see each other much. I was very into my music and she was also doing her own thing and then... One day she told me she was going to quit and I encouraged her not to because I knew how important that was for her and about a month later she told me she had fallen in love with the artist that was working with her.” He shrugged. “We broke up and lost all contact.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“That doesn’t matter now, Lau. I don’t know her anymore.” 

“But-”

“We should go to bed. You, specially.” He raised his eyebrows. 

So the girl did as her uncle had said but as she lied down in bed that night, she was thinking- and if she was only a little older she would know her uncle was thinking the same thing- what if it wasn’t too late? What if she was wrong? What if she never loved somebody else? 

And then she thought she would find her. She knew her name and she knew she was an artist and linked to Harry Styles out of all people. She was so sure she probably wasn’t that hard to find. 

On the room right next to hers, her mother Gemma lighted up the phone. Asher was still snoring next to her. She texted. 

Hope you’re fine. Thinking of you. XXX -Gemma

And then she turned around and bored her eyes into her sleeping husband’s face. She’s Harry’s Asher. 

Her daughter opened Instagram. Y/N.  #artY/N #Y/NandHarryStyles. Harry Styles’s girlfriend... 

“H, it’s just... I think I’m falling in love with someone else.” 

Hi Gem! So good to hear from you. I am fine! Everything alright? How’s Harry? XXX -Y/N. 

Part 2

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanficton #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #harry styles story #harry styles angst #harry styles love story #harry styles love #harry styles fans #harry styles stories #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles news #harry styles daily

[luvwritess]

| Capturing |

A soft cushion hits Harry's head when he tries to take another photo of me with his phone. All day Harry has been chasing me, always having his phone within reach to take photos of me. I would have been okay with it every other day but not when I haven't put on any make up and are simply dressed in some shorts and a shirt of Harry which is way too big for me.

"Baby, please just one more!" Harry begs and crawls over to me on the couch. He holds his phone in front of my face but I turn away and cover my face with both my hands.

"I said no!" I say frustrated and get pulled onto Harry's lap after I tried to get up from the couch. Pouting, I cross my arms in front of my chest and Harry wraps both his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. He holds the phone up and takes a selfie from the two of us. I try to delete it but Harry stretches his arm out so his phone is out of reach for me.

Sighing I turn a bit, so I'm still sitting in his lap but can look at him. I see a huge smile on his full lips as he admires the photo of the two of us. All of a sudden he holds his phone up again and snaps one of me. "Harry! I said no more photos!" I exclaim and try to snatch his phone out of his hand again, "You already have like five hundred photos of me!"

Harry smiles and scrolls down in his album named 'Y/N' to see how many photo's he has taken. "I only have 856 pics of you and I can tell you that they are certainly not enough for me when I'm away from your for months”. I roll my eyes and Harry pulls me closer so my head leans against his chest. He places a few kisses on my head whereupon I bury my head in his shirt, smelling his manly and overwhelming sent. Through closed eyes I see how it suddenly gets brighter around us and I know Harry took another picture of me.

"Harry..." I sigh and nuzzle my head even more into his chest and curl into a ball in his lap. “I'm just so overwhelmed by your beauty I need to capture it whenever I have a chance to do so," Harry whispers against my ear, "And I'm just so in love with you that I don't wanna look at everyone else."

"I love you." I whisper and Harry hugs me tigher.

“And I needed a new Lock and Home Screen” Harry tells me and I turn my head a bit to look at his phone where he shows me the old photo's of me, “Look, these pics are from, like, two weeks ago!”

His words make me a smile and I lift my head to kiss his lips. I move around a bit to straddle him. My face cup both his cheeks as we share a passionate kiss. But all of a sudden I feel his hand, where he holds the phone, rise again. “Harry, I swear if you—“ But Harry snaps a picture before I can finish my sentence. I immediately take my lips away and glare at him, “You're such an idiot.”

“I can live with that," Harry shrugs, smiling satisfied, and presses me against his body, "Because I know you love me, anyways” <3

|@dearharold|

#harry styles #imagines #smut #one direction #fanficton #harry styles memes #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fluff #btsgif #bts fanfic #new #wattpad #one direction imagine

[raindrop-requiem]

I know this has nothing to do with the aesthetic of this account but let me just say, i HATE it when in fanfiction someone fucks up and then apologizes like it’s nothing and because the other person just loves them so much they just accept the apology like I’m sorry this person broke your heart and your not even gonna TRY to make them feel bad, I’m sorry but I gotta leave

I’m sorry I know this isn’t a ranting account but I’m just mad and it’s my account so I do whatever I want

#one direction #fanfic #fanficton #larry fanfiction #larry fic #larry stylinson #louis & harry #harry styles #louis tomlinson #liam payne #zayn malik #niall horan #dark academia #aesthetic #ranting #shitty fanfic #i’m mad #dark acadamia aesthetic

[randomfangirl456]

Full Masterlist

* = ongoing

• = completed

requests are open❤️

Cafè baggage •

Part 1

Part 2

Shadows of Saintfour*

PART ONE*

Chapter 1: Mysterious letter

Chapter 2: Welcome to Saintfour

Chapter 3: Sam *coming soon*

Chapter 4: The Chase *coming soon*

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

#fanfic #masterlist #reader x harry styles #reading #fanficton #harry styles

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

Thank you to @gurugirl for being such a big help during my fanfic Redemption ❤️❤️

I’m so excited to start this new journey of dad!Harry & his babygirl & her mother! They didn’t have the easiest journey but I would love for everyone & anyone to come along for the ride!!!

While I’m still tidying some lose ends up, drop in and stop and say hello, ask questions, I’d love to see what you guys are thinking what kind of dad Harry is going to be!!

#fanfiction #fanfic #zayn #harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic rec #fanficton #harry styles daddy kink #harrystylesdad

[vinylhazza]

PART 1 is up now! Please go check it out, give it a vote, and leave your thoughts in the comments 🤍✨ thank you so much for the support

https://www.wattpad.com/story/283497932?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=seasidehs&wp_originator=pQgHAKzJDx78B%2F3egg%2Bd4EV1Y3dlXBHoEVd3f%2Bhj93ELrLccEVvgAuSJ9UchQEH7Arc90r5gu7EcHjcC3wuceFneopuvh7hgG5AxkS3IA7JuWsnS4RRGewHjAvcQLsxf

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom #hs #fanficton #harry styles fanfic #writerslife

[moonchildstyles]

daffodil

aster part two: harry’s still kind of a dick, but y/n can’t help but have a crush on him, especially when he acts like he cares

wordcount: 9.5k+

—————

(Y/N) misses Harry.

It had been a few days since Sarah's show, and as (Y/N) had very wrongly predicted at the time, she was most definitely not over Harry and had instead almost obsessed over the few slightly sweet moments they had. Especially in the particularly slow moments at the library—like now—, did she daydream about what she would hope to happen the next time they see each other.

In her head, he would have made a full one-eighty and been even sweeter than what he had showed at the gig. He'd give her a hug, a kiss on her cheek to make her blush, and would talk to her about anything and not just Sarah or Mitch or anyone that isn't themselves. Sarah had psyched her up just the tiniest bit the other night, causing her to think that maybe he had developed a teeny-tiny crush on her, too. (Although (Y/N) does admit—only to herself of course—that her itty-bitty crush she had on him before has most definitely grown much larger than itty-bitty). She would love for that to be reality and not just a fantasy of her's, but she also feels a shot of anxiety go through her at the idea of him reciprocating her feelings on any level.

She doesn't know how to be a girlfriend, or even a date, so what if she somehow got comfortable enough with him to be something more than just a tolerable person to him. What would she do then? She doesn't know how to kiss really (only having had a very juvenile kiss at her junior year homecoming with a guy her friends had said liked her, and feeling self conscious about being so behind romantically, she had allowed him to kiss her but very quickly broke it off when he tried to add his tongue), she doesn't know how to express her feelings very well, and who knows what else he'd expect of her. But that's only if—if!—he were to ever feel the same way about her.

As much as (Y/N) loves the library—and the money—, she really doesn't think she should be allowed to work when it isn't busy, seeing as she is now over-analyzing a relationship that isn't even real.

"(Y/N), your shift ended five minutes ago. Are you okay?" Her coworker, Avery, asked. (Y/N) hadn't even realized that it was time for her to go, being too caught up in her confusing feelings and overthinking.

"Oh, uh, yeah sorry. I didn't even realize what time it was. Is there anything you need me to do before I clock out?" (Y/N) offered. She knew there wasn't going to be anything that absolutely needed her attention before she left, seeing as there was only one person in the library, a boy she she recognizes from her criminal psychology class from last semester. He didn't even have any books out, or laptop which (Y/N) thought was odd seeing as people usually came here to study or do homework and he didn't seem to be doing either.

"No, you should head out, it's already pretty dark and it's supposed to keep getting colder tonight."

(Y/N) just nodded her head and collected her things at the front desk. She clocked herself out and said goodbye to Avery and headed towards the door.

It was 8:15 (she was supposed to be out at eight o'clock even but that didn't exactly go to plan), and (Y/N) was ready to just get back to her apartment and be alone for a little while and try to sort out her feelings as best she could. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the boy from her criminal psych class—who she vaguely remembers is named Reese—abruptly get up after seeing her exit from behind the front desk. He didn't even have to pack up his things as all he seemed to have was his phone, a pair of headphones, and a notebook that was left unopened. Soon enough he was only a few beats behind her.

(Y/N) knows he could be doing just about anything in the world, and just because he seemed to be leaving at the same time as her could mean nothing. He could have been waiting for someone that never showed, he could have been waiting for a ride, he could have been doing literally anything that has nothing to do with (Y/N), but blame it on her parents and the ingrained paranoia around boys they gave her, but she can't help but feel like this was all on purpose; like he was trying to corner her or something.

Her heart starts pumping a tiny bit faster as she sees him near her from the corner of her eye. All she needs to do is get out the door before he can catch up and she'll be fine. Hopefully.

Just as she's about to push the door, a hand shoots out before her, pushing it open for her.

"There you go," Reese says, looking at (Y/N) with these suspiciously charming eyes and matching smirk.

"Uh, thanks," (Y/N) rushes, skirting past his arm and out the door and away from him. She walks faster than she normally does, trying not to run in case he really was just trying to be nice and she just ends up looking crazy.

But she wishes she had just ran.

"Hey, why don't you let me walk you home? Since it's late and all. I'd feel so guilty if I left you all alone in the dark like this," he calls to her. The polite girl her parents pushed her to be shined through as she replies back with a no, thanks and keeps walking, although the rational woman that values her safety above manners knows she should have kept quiet and kept going.

"It's not like I'm a stranger or anything. We had criminal psychology together, right? I read your essays and you're pretty smart. (Y/N), right?" He tried again, coming up and walking alongside her although she declined.

"I'm fine, really, I have to go a few places before I go home anyway. But thank you," she tries again, making up some lie about how she had anywhere other than her bedroom to be.

"Actually, I overheard you talking to that other girl earlier about how you couldn't wait to just go home. That you were so happy that you had finished all your papers a week early and had nothing left to do today," he challenges, the friendly tone he's been using vanishes.

"I-uh-" (Y/N) was cut off by the boy grabbing at her waist and wrapping his arm around her midsection. A harsh pinch is placed on her side as he speaks up again.

"So since you're free, why don't you come over to my place, yeah?" He has her stopped in the middle of the sidewalk with no cars driving past and no people out and about, trying to turn her around in what she assumes is the direction of his house.

"No, I-I just really want to go home, and my-uh-my roommate is expecting me and just—please stop, you're hurting me!" She speaks up, his fingers harshly digging into her side and causing these tiny tears to form on her waterline and her voice to crack. She stiffened her arms out in front of her, pushing against him to get out of his grip.

"Just follow me and st-"

He's abruptly cut off by the sound of someone shouting. "Hey, mate, what do you think you're doing?!"

(Y/N) knows that voice, she's been thinking about it for the past three days straight.

Harry.

"Just talking to my girl, man, she's just being a bit fussy. Guess it's time to get you home so you can go to bed, huh, love?" Reese tries to cover, taking ahold of (Y/N) again and stabbing his fingers into her hipbone to coerce her into playing along.

Harry comes closer now, and if (Y/N) wasn't so scared at the moment, she's sure her eyes would turn to the shape of hearts with how good he looks; her little daydreams didn't do him any justice.

"Is that right, (Y/N)? I didn't know y'had a boyfriend," Harry challenged, speaking only to (Y/N) to give her a way out. His arms folded in front of him, his shoulders squared up to take any type of route it took to get (Y/N) out of the situation.

"No-I-I don't know him. Harry, I-" she was cut off by the feeling of Reese beside her squeezing her side tight enough that (Y/N) was sure she'll have bruises tomorrow.

Harry took a step forward placing his hand out for her to take. "C'mere, get behind me."

(Y/N) used all her might to get out Reese's embrace, pulled closer to Harry with the help of his outstretched hand. She barricaded herself behind like as he suggested, hiding herself from view.

"Mate, c'mon, find your own. I've been waiting for this one," Reese presses, taking a step forward and reaching around to try and catch a grip on her.

Harry didn't say anything back, just pushing at Reese's chest to hold him back. "Hey, watch it. Just leave her alone, she's not going with you." His voice definitive, like he was drawing the line for this boy not to cross. Harry delivered a shove against his chest, causing Reese to stumble back a bit.

"She's not even worth it, mate. I heard she's a prude anyway so you can have her," he spits, turning away and leave Harry and (Y/N) behind finally. Harry waits until Reese is a good ways away before he finally turns to see (Y/N) shaking like a leaf.

A concerned look paints his face, causing his brows to furrow and a pout to form and his lip ring to droop in response. "Are you alright?" he breathed out, showing more emotion in that one breath than she'd ever seen from him. He takes a step back from her, allowing him to get a better look at her and give her some space he thinks she might want.

"Thank you s-so much, Harry. I-I was so scared and he was hurting me and just didn't think I would get away," she rambles, on the verge of tears. She pulls the sleeves of her thin, pink shirt down over her hands to prepare for the tears she knows are bound to come down.

"Of course, y'don't have to thank me at all, would've done that whether I knew you or not. 'M so sorry. Do y'want to go report it to campus police or go to the real police? Whichever y'want, we can do," Harry speaks softly to her, trying to keep her as calm as he can while still trying to figure out what's next for her.

"I don't think they can really do too much for me. He didn't really break any laws or code of conduct or whatever it's called. I-I just want to go home." That's when she started really crying. The reality of what could have happened if Harry hadn't shown up starts to sink in for her.

Harry lets out a sad sigh, his tongue peeking out and messing with his lip ring out of habit. He hesitantly reaches a hand towards her, not really knowing how to comfort her, someone he hadn't been exactly the nicest to but he wasn't cold-hearted or anything. Seeing a crying girl got to him, it made him think of his mother and sister. (Y/N) felt his hand wrap around her wrist. Although being wary of contact from boys (in general from her parents and also because of what just happened), she felt herself latch on to that bit of contact.

She all but threw herself into his arms without a thought. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, feeling a bit tense from the suddenness of her motions. She knew she probably threw him off, this isn't something she would do in any clear state of mind; contact with boys who weren't necessarily the nicest weren't on the top of her list. But this is just a moment for her. Harry's basically turned into her version of her tattooed knight in nail polish and eyeliner. And, surprisingly, he was very good at this, and she was very grateful of that. His arms felt strong around her, his heartbeat steadying. His shushing and overall calming tone of his voice was something she never really got growing up with her parents. He was just so comforting. If she had half the mind to think of anything other than the most dreadful possibilities of what could be happening to her now if she wasn't with him, she'd be wondering about how someone like Harry who seemed so tense and always moody and broody, would be good at something so emotionally taxing. But now is not the time.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of Harry's embrace, although she loved the feeling of his tattooed arms around her, she felt kind of embarrassed (she knew she shouldn't, but it's just something her parents pushed on her, emotion wasn't something you showed openly) to just be crying out in the open like that. What would someone think if they saw her having a crying fit on the public sidewalk? She'll save the rest of it for when she gets back home, she decides.

"Can you take-take me home?" She hiccuped, wiping away any left over tears.

"Yeah, I can walk you," Harry offers, his body still tense and alert for any signs of a flip of emotions in her.

"I just don't want to be alone in the dark like this right now, I'm sorry," (Y/N) apologized (unnecessarily, Harry thinks).

"Hey, don't be sorry, okay? I completely understand why y'need that right now. Now let's get y'home," Harry reassures her, placing a hand gently in her bicep and squeezing a tiny bit. (Y/N) just nodded her head, keeping her eyes and face towards the ground so he didn't see her flushed cheeks from his touching.

On the walk to her apartment, (Y/N) learned that Harry had just locked up his tattoo shop for the night when he had heard her yelling which caused him to intervene.

"Do you usually work this late?" Harry asked, being the eyes for both of them as she's too busy looking at her shoes and messing with her nails—both nervous ticks he's sure—to be watching where they were walking.

"Kind of. I can only work the later shifts since most of my classes are in the morning," (Y/N) answers, looking up at Harry for the briefest second to see him already looking at her before adverting her gaze.

"Since y'know where the shop is now, if y'want, come by after your late shifts so y'don't walk alone. This isn't going to happen again," Harry offers, a clench in his jaw evident in his speech towards the end.

"Y-yeah, I'd like that."

—————

Harry gets her home just around nine. Sarah was just about flipping out when (Y/N) hadn't returned home a half hour before that. (Y/N) knows they start talking about her when she goes to the bathroom and starts washing her face and getting more comfortable. She can tell by the hushed voices and the gasps coming from Sarah, she even hears Sarah thank Harry before (Y/N) returns from her bedroom now in her pajamas.

Harry's the first to talk to her as Sarah seemed to not know what to say now that she knew why they had been so late. "Feeling a bit better now?" Harry asks, standing up from his leaning position again the kitchen counter.

(Y/N) nods her head, distracting herself with the ties in her sweatpants. Her heart squeezed for a moment at the sound of the genuine concern she heard in his voice.

"Good, that's good. 'M going to head home then myself. If there isn't anything else y'needed?" Harry prompted, stepping closer to her, his arms folded in concern.

"I-I think I'm okay. Sarah can help if I need anything, right?" (Y/N) starts, peeking around him to see Sarah nod her head, "Are you going to be okay walking in the dark?"

Harry could feel his heart warm the slightest bit at the genuine concern dripping from her words. She's just too cute for her own good; for his good either. Much too sweet after how he's acted before tonight, after what's happened to her. She's still got the mind to wonder if Harry, the type of person that others are scared of on their walks home, would be okay walking in the dark. Too adorable.

"Yeah, 'm sure I'll be fine, but thank you for asking. Can I ask something of y'before I go?" A half tilted smirk on his face that was the closest thing (Y/N)'s seen to a smile from him.

(Y/N) eagerly nods her head, ready to repay him in any way she could.

"Could y'put your number in my phone? Jus' in case y'need to get ahold of me or to let me know if you're coming by the shop?" Harry asks, already slipping his phone out of his back pocket.

(Y/N) stutters out an agreement, having never been asked for her number by a boy before, grabbing his outstretched phone. She quickly puts in all her information, not being bold enough to put any cute emojis or anything next to her name like she's sure many other girls would have done. Harry sent her a quick text, just so she would have his number as well before putting his phone away.

"Alright, 'm going to head home, then," Harry started, giving her the same half tilted smirk before turning towards Sarah and giving her a hug. He offered (Y/N) a wave (she kind of was also expecting a hug, but maybe he spent all the contact he could give tonight) before heading towards the door. "Goodnight."

Harry let himself out, Sarah following behind him to lock the door before turning to (Y/N) with the saddest eyes she thinks she's ever seen Sarah have.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). If there's any-"

"I'm really fine Sarah, he didn't do anything to me I'm just shaken up. But thank you... Would it be okay if I cried a little bit?"

"Oh, (Y/N), of course."

And they just sat on the couch for another hour, letting (Y/N) get everything out and Sarah comforting her the best she can. Sarah sent her to bed soon after, telling her she needed to get some sleep and promising that tomorrow they would skip their morning classes and have a proper breakfast together.

(Y/N) laid in her bed, draining the last few stray tears she had before she finally fell asleep. Just as she wiped away that last of her sadness, her phone vibrated on her nightstand.

Harry         Sleep well. Let me know if you need anything.

(Y/N) thinks she could feel each individual muscle in her body relax after reading that.

—————

Harry kind of thinks he's a little fucked.

He hasn't seen (Y/N) in about a week or so now, but he just can't get her out of his head. Although their last meeting wasn't on the best of circumstances, he just can't get the look of her wet, doe eyes out of his head, the feel of her soft, pretty body in his arms off his mind. He's never been really a soft type of guy; sure he can make friends fairly easy and he isn't just an asshole to strangers on the street, but overall he's just a bit more closed off than most people. But this girl, this sweet, innocent girl is just cracking him.

He's never been much of a protector, having fended for himself for a good while, he doesn't see how others can't do it, too. For (Y/N), though, he feels like he's got to! At the show when she just sat there when he left to go be with Mitch, he couldn't just leave her alone, who knows what could have happened! And then she's just jumping and bouncing around, bound to fall at one point, and—of course—she did and he couldn't just let her fall down and hurt herself, so he had to make sure she was steady and let her know to be careful. The last time, though? That was something different. He'd have done that for anyone really, but the fact that it was (Y/N) just really got to him.

From what Sarah had explained to him the few times they had talked about her before they met, he knew she didn't have much of a history with being around boys or any type of romantic history. And the fact that one of the few times she has an interaction with a boy, its him pushing her around and trying to do something to her that she doesn't want. It just really got to him.

As much as he wants to be that protector and that man in her life that would take care of her, he just doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to be all sweet on a girl, or be the type of person that he'd envision her to be with. And he's just also kind of confused. He isn't usually into girls like her. He wasn't lying when he said she wasn't his type. He usually is one for girls who are assertive and make the first move; more outspoken, and up front about what they want and what they don't want. Not to say he likes "bad" girls, but he does like the badass type of girls that traditionally look like they'd go with him. So he's pretty confused to be feeling this way about someone so out of the norm for him.

She reminded him of the girls he grew up with in grade school. All these pristine little girls who didn't know the first thing about being kind. It only ever started when his parents got divorced, and he knows that the teasing from those girls weren't from them (at least he knows that now), but it's just things they had heard their parents say and gossip about. It still hurt his feelings nonetheless. But (Y/N) isn't like that. She's so kind and sweet, and he's given her so many reasons to be anything but that, but she just keeps her smile on her face and keeps trying. She may look like these girls but she's nothing like them. He just got stuck on her and all of her softness. She's all soft colors, and soft looks, and soft hair, and soft eyes, and she does this thing when he catches her looking at him where her cheeks just light up and she flutters her lashes and looks away real fast, and she—

He's just fucked, okay!

The way he copes with this is something he doesn't entirely enjoy doing really, but it's almost like a reflex. He starts getting all annoyed and frustrated with her (mostly because he just wants to make sure she's safe and careful and she doesn't do herself too many favors in that department) and he says things he doesn't really mean. He feels like some school boy who has a crush and is mean to her because be doesn't know how to express it. But he's not a twelve year old boy, he's a business owner, a real, grown man who doesn't know how to handle his own feelings. And it's slightly embarrassing.

He hasn't seen her in a week and he just wants to text her and call her and see what she's doing and just see her again, but he stops himself everytime knowing that although in his head he'd be the sweet boyfriend type, he knows that what would really happen is he'd see her or hear her voice and short circuit and just turn into some frustrated asshole. He knows who he is alone, but when he see her he turns into someone new. So he'll just leave her at arm's length.

At least until he heard the buzz from his phone on his workstation at the shop.

Sarah       Hey, H! I just wanted to let you know that I have a show this coming Thursday with that band again. There's going to be an after party at the singer's house, too. (Y/N), Clare, and Mitch are coming and Adam said he'll be bartending, so everyone's going to be there, and it'd be cool if you come, too!!

Harry knows good and well that Sarah made a point to list out the group of them, just to say that (Y/N) was going to be there. He knows that Mitch definitely saw through his pushing her away and he probably relayed that message to Sarah, so he knew the game she was playing. He did appreciate it, though. He'd never tell them, but he does. It was nice knowing that they supported the thought of Harry being there for her, and gave him opportunities to make it happen. So he's going to take it.

         Sure. Just let me know when and where.

—————

When Thursday rolled around, Sarah and Mitch both left early again leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself for a couple of hours. Since the last gig, Clare had been able to get her car all fixed up and was going to take her tonight. Although she breathed a sigh of relief at the information, she could feel all the butterflies fluttering in her tummy disappear when she realized she wouldn't have any alone time with Harry this time around. Not only that, but apparently he can only make it to the after party, so there's no chance of him being all sweet on her like he was before.

But it'll still be fun! And this time around she won't have to be on her toes thinking about how she's being flanked by two boys, and people she doesn't even know. And she'll still see him afterwards so it's all okay.

Clare     I'm on my way now, I'll let you know when I'm outside!

(Y/N) answered back with a simple okay and a smiley face before gathering all her things and finishing up getting ready before Clare arrived.

Just as she finished pinning her hair back, (Y/N)'s phone buzzed, not once but twice. Before she could even open them, a third buzz came.

Clare     I'm outside, whenever you're ready!

(Y/N) finished up, sending a message saying she was on her way down, before putting on her jacket and locking up the apartment. Once outside, she quickly spotted Clare's car, and hopped in the passenger seat.

"Hey, Clare!" (Y/N) greeted, leaning over the center console and giving her a hug. She pulled away quickly, allowing Clare to start pulling out of the parking lot of the complex, and on the way to the venue.

"Hey! How have you been? Its really nice to see you again," she reciprocated, a smile on her face.

The two started conversation, a major difference compared to when she was with Harry the last time. Although it was nice, she did miss listening to all the music he picked out and put together, and just overall being in his presence no matter if it was headache inducing sometimes. As Clare was telling her about this new business venture she was considering, (Y/N) took a moment to check the two texts she missed when leaving the house.

Safe to say (Y/N) was surprised at having to still fend off an asthma attack when she wasn't even in Harry's presence.

Harry     Get to the venue safely, please. Let me know when you and Clare make it.

     I'll see you at the party tonight. Have fun at the show. Be careful.

She never thought she'd say this, but she can't wait for this party.

—————

The two had made it just in time to get to the very front of the crowd with Mitch. (Y/N) took a moment to message Harry back, that they had gotten there just fine. All he sent back was a simple good leaving (Y/N) much too excited over single word text.

Just like the last time, (Y/N) really had the time of her life. The vibe was full of adrenaline, the lights flashing to the beat, the floor thumping from the bass, and just the feel of the place was just as amazing as the time before. Sarah was amazing, as expected, and (Y/N) loved seeing her best friend up there doing what she does best. It was also an added little bit of fun having Clare next to her. They jumped around and screamed, and pretended to know the words to all of these songs together. She was able to relax. Tonight had to have been one of the best nights (Y/N)'s ever had.

When the set ended they waited for Sarah and Mitch to come back from the breakdown.

"You did amazing, Sarah!" (Y/N) cheered, rushing to give Sarah a hug as she emerged from the back room.

"Thank you, guys!" Sarah said, reciprocating her hug before moving to Clare. (Y/N) moved to gather all of her stuff she left at the bar with Adam.

She waited as the three of them all talked amongst themselves, bouncing on her feet. She's sure she looked like a giddy child, waiting for someone to say it was time to go to this after party. She just really wanted to see Harry.

"(Y/N), what are you so excited about?" Sarah asked, a knowing tone to her voice as she realized what had (Y/N) all quiet.

"Nothing! Are you guys ready to go to that party?" She quickly asked. She's not very good at playing off her excitement.

"Are you sure you aren't all excited to see Harry?" A song-song, teasing tone entered Sarah's voice as she said Harry's name. (Y/N) knew she was caught, but she didn't want to just admit so freely, almost embarrassed at how excited she was to see him.

"I just think it would be even more fun with all of us together," (Y/N) tried to cover, offering an unconvincing smile. All Sarah did was playfully roll her eyes and nod her head. Clare even had a knowing little look her face, which (Y/N) didn't expect but she should have figured she would have caught on, especially after how (Y/N) mentioned Harry an unnecessary amount of times on the car ride over. Mitch pretended not to know a thing, but (Y/N) knows he much more aware of what's going on than he likes to admit, so she's sure he knows.

To waste a bit of time to let the party get into full swing as Clare put it, Sarah went ahead and changed out of her performance clothes. Adam also took his time cleaning up and closing down the bar as the attendants filtered out, before the five of them all left the venue. Sarah, Mitch, and Adam all went in Sarah's car, with (Y/N) and Clare in the other.

Clare followed behind Sarah, leaving the next twenty minutes to the singer's house for (Y/N) to anticipate seeing Harry.

"You really like him, huh?" Clare asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?" (Y/N) asked, genuinely confused at where she was coming from.

"Harry. You really like him, I can tell. You're bouncing around in the seat like you've got to use the bathroom or something," Clare joked, keeping her eyes on the road.

"I—...He's just really nice and stuff," (Y/N) timidly explained. She felt like a little girl admitting she had a crush on a boy in her kindergarten class.

"He's only really nice like that to you, you know. You really bring something out of him, from what I hear. I can see why you're excited to see him. I'm sure he really wants to see you, too." Clare was able to do the same thing that Sarah can, making (Y/N) feel normal and like her feelings weren't that of a child's. It was very nice to think that she wasn't just making up these moments with him in her head, and that other people could see it too.

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

—————

After going down a winding side road, Clare pulled up behind Sarah on a long driveway, to a lone house. All these cars were parked outside, but it wasn't anything like (Y/N) had imagined from all of the movies she's seen. There weren't these crazy technicolor lights flashing from the windows, with bass heavy music vibrating the ground and bouncing the house. She could hear some faint music, and from what she could see, some regular colored lights. It looked nice, like a "grown up" party.

"Ready?" Clare asked. All of her things were gathered up into her hands, and she was about to turn the car off.

"Yeah, I-I think so," (Y/N) stuttered. The fact that this was a party had flown over her head in the excitement of seeing Harry. Once she remembered that fact, all of her nerves she's been able to fight off through the night, just reemerged and awakened the butterflies in her tummy.

Sarah, Mitch, and Adam all got out of Sarah's car, letting Clare and (Y/N) catch up before moving towards the front door. (Y/N) couldn't help but scan through the parked cars, hoping to spot Harry's. Finally she did spot his black Range Rover parked towards the back of the house, and the butterflies flapped harder.

Once inside, she saw that the lights she thought were just the regular ceiling lights were actually strings and strings of fairy lights brightening up the room. Two different songs were coming from different rooms in the house; upstairs a song with amateur vocals played causing (Y/N) to think that, maybe, it was karaoke, and the downstairs had a more professional sounding song filtering through loud speakers. Everyone was milling about some with drinks in their hands, others with water. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and (Y/N) was excited that this could be her first party and not some weird, teenage house party where everyone was on edge from the fear of getting busted by the police.

And Harry was here. She didn't know where exactly, but she knew he was here somewhere.

Sarah started off in her own direction, and the group of them followed. She went to greet the singer of the band who had thrown the party, while Adam decided to be the first one to break away and start talking to people he had recognized from the bar. (Y/N) stuck to Clare's side, following behind her as she went around and talked to some of the people and friends she knew from the band. She would introduce (Y/N) to people, bringing her into the conversation as much as she could but she was preoccupied.

Her eyes scanned the room looking for Harry, trying to find any glimpse of an arm full a tattoos, or even a wisp of a curl, just anything to show where he was.

And she did find that tattooed arm. It just happened to be around another girl. And she looked exactly like what she would think Harry would consider his type. She had clusters of tattoos (not as many as Harry but enough for (Y/N) to wince at the thought of sitting through them), and these pretty, colorful streaks through her bright blonde hair. And she was pretty and cool and she was everything that complimented Harry. And he had his arm around her.

She shouldn't feel hurt, and she knows that but... she just is. Even though she had no claim over him, and she never told him of her feelings for him. She knows she's not really the girlfriend type; she's too clueless as to how to be in a relationship and she knows that's not what Harry wants. He deserves someone like this girl who seemed to cool and confident. She clung to him without a shadow of worry of whether or not he felt the same, like she knew they belonged together. She knows she has no right to be upset. It just hurt to see him with someone after how softly he had treated her the last time they had been together and just from all the texts he had sent before tonight. (Y/N) also let it run through her mind that maybe, possibly this was nothing more than a friendly little gesture and she was overreacting on more than one front, but the idea of this being a display of affection from a couple was too upsetting to consider anything else at the moment.

"Hey, you okay?" Clare called, breaking her from her thoughts. The concerned look on her face becoming more prevalent when she could see the sad, puppy eyes (Y/N) was sure she was giving.

"Um, yeah. I just have a headache from the lights and music and all, you know? I'll be fine," she lied. Now wasn't the time to complain about a guy who definitely wasn't her boyfriend.

"Okay... Let me know if you need to leave or anything okay?" Clare offered, setting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. (Y/N) gave her a genuine smile at the support and kept quiet.

After watching Harry for a beat longer (she honestly felt quite creepy), she didn't want to see how he was flirting with this girl anymore, instead opting to excuse herself to the kitchen, citing a need for water. Clare offered to go with her, but (Y/N) declined as she just wanted to be alone for a moment.

The kitchen was empty, no fairy lights in here, just the regular ceiling light. Stacks of red Solo cups were on the counter next to various bottles of alcohol. (Y/N) grabbed one for herself, filling it with water from the tap. Away from the noise outside, she leaned her back against the counter, taking a moment to soak in her feelings and somehow teach herself to get over it in three seconds.

After her few minutes alone, someone else entered the kitchen with her. She vaguely recognized him from the crowd at the show, standing towards the side. He didn't seem to be watching the show so much as looking at the other attendants.

"Hey, aren't you Sarah's friend?" he asks over the full thumping from the music just outside the door. He reaches for a solo cup and fills it with different colored alcohol and juices.

"Um, yeah," she answers, surprised that he knew anything about her, "Are you friends with her, too?"

"Yeah, kind of. I help set up for the shows. I'm actually good friends with the regular drummer. I saw you at the show tonight, you looked like you were having a good time," he smiled, coming around the kitchen island to stand next to her.

"Yeah, it was a really good show," she started shrinking herself away from him as he got closer to her. She didn't really know him and she still loved her personal space no matter how adventurous she's been.

"I'll have to let them all know that," he said with a suspiciously dazzling smile on his face, bumping his shoulder against her's, "what are you drinking?"

(Y/N) scooted herself away from him the slightest bit before answering, "Just water."

"Aw, why? I can fix you up something if you want. I'm actually a really good bartender. I know how to make all those fruity drinks you girls like," he offered, closing the distance that she had created.

"I—I don't really drink, but thank you," she declined. She set down her now empty water cup, and started slowly skirting towards the swinging door of the kitchen. He reached out and caught into her arm before she could get too far away.

"Are you sure? You look like you've had a rough night," he pressed, pulling her back towards him, "if you really don't want anything like that, I can just get you some juice or pop or something, if you'd like."

His handling of her had (Y/N) reminiscing of the last time she was cornered by a guy she didn't know. Although he seemed much nicer than Reese—less creepy, more of a "nice guy"—she still didn't really much want to spend time with him. (She also didn't think her broken-hearted, puppy dog look was that obvious, but apparently it was).

But her parents didn't raise an impolite girl, now did they?

"I—okay." He had already pulled a cup off the stack and started rummaging through different juices and things in the fridge. At this point a no wasn't going to be of any use anyway, she figured.

"Did you want a pop or juice?" he questioned, looking back at her from the pen door of the fridge.

"Um, cranberry juice?" If she was going to have a drink, might as well have it be something she actually likes, right? He gave her a nod and another much-too-dazzling smile and started pouring her a cup of juice.

She took the silent time to try and send a text to Clare or Sarah to let them know where she was and that she wanted to leave. Unfortunately, she didn't miraculously connect to the WiFi she didn't have the password to, so nothing was going through.

"Alright, here you go. Are you sure you didn't want anything else?" He offered, handing her the new cup. He slid up next to her again, leaning on the counter the way he had before.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Now, what's got you all gloomy lookin'?" He asked, slinging a—very unwanted—arm around her shoulders. (Y/N) very subtly shrugged off the arm, using the excuse of moving her arm to take a drink of her cranberry juice.

Just as she was about to take a sip, Harry came through the kitchen doorway. (Y/N) half expected the girl she saw him with to be following behind him, but she didn't which was very appreciated, (Y/N) thought. He looked like the same intimidating man she had met that first time, very neutral and cool, but that was until he saw her. As soon as their eyes met, his entire expression changed. Gone was the indifferent expression, now replaced with a pair of furrowed brows and a tensed jaw. His whole body seemed to go rigid when he saw her. She could see his eyes go from her, to the arm around her, and to who the arm belonged to.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

He probably came in here to get his girlfriend a drink and now somehow (Y/N)'s pissed him off. (Y/N) didn't have a moment to respond before Harry had his arm wrapped around her waist and was tugging her out of his arms and out of the kitchen. He pulled her through the living room and out the door. Still without a word, he took her to his car and opened the door for her and setting her inside before moving to his own side.

It wasn't until he had backed out of the driveway and was out on the main road before (Y/N) decided to say something.

"Are you okay?" She questioned, her gaze down on her nails where she was picking.

She stole a glance towards him, seeing his tensed shoulders, locked jaw, and white knuckles from his grip on the steering wheel. He looked so scary, and just angry, he looked like a completely different person than she had seen the week before. Sure, she knew he probably wouldn't make a complete one-eighty and be all clouds, and rainbows, and sparkles to her, but maybe she thought that he wouldn't yell at her first chance he got. It was like he wasn't even the same person. He didn't look like the same soft boy that gently took care of her and made sure she was okay before reluctantly leaving her that night.

The black on his nails now finally chipping a week later. His eyeliner smudged for the first time she's seen, also very different than the boy she's known before tonight. His lip ring was fit snug between his lips, moving from the motions of his tongue. He still looked like the cute, intimidating boy she developed that crush on, just really, really mad. Still cute though, but maybe now wasn't the time.

"No." His monotone reply pulled her out of her admiring of him, causing her to move her gaze to her nails to mess with them.

Usually people just said yes to that question, no matter if it was the truth not, so Harry's blunt honesty really threw her off.

"I'm sorry," she offered, her tone soft and truly apologetic. Harry said nothing in return, just silently driving them back into the direction of home.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that she tried to talk to him again. "I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you mad. I—I didn't mean to," she apologized, she wasn't sure for what, but usually when Harry gets mad it's because of something she did.

"Do you even know who that was? Did you even watch him make that drink he gave you?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but surely he just was asking to make (Y/N) feel embarrassed.

"He said that he was friends with the other drummer and—and that he helps set up for the shows, but I didn't ask what his name was." Her voice was small and timid, almost like she was trying to shrink herself from the inside out for him. If he was aiming to get embarrassment from her, he was definitely achieving it. She felt like she was getting reprimanded from her parents all over again. It reminded her of the times they would come and pick her up from school and the brother of another student, there to pick up their sister, would unknowingly be standing too close to her and as soon as she got in the car she would get the lecture of her life about trusting boys too freely. (One of their favorite lines was "we raised you better than that", usually followed by a threat of homeschooling since they apparently couldn't trust her, even at an all girls school). It wasn't a good feeling. Especially from Harry.

"If you had paid attention at all, you'd know that he has nothing to do with that band. He's just some creep that shows up to parties around here and tries to get girls to sleep with him," Harry started, his tone even and unwavering, "He wasn't even at the first show, (Y/N). Did you even see him 'help' with the set up tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Harry...I just don't really go to parties and stuff. I—I thought he was trying to be nice. He gave me juice and was ask—asking me how I was," (Y/N) explained, the nail polish on her nails chipping from her messing.

"I can never leave you by yourself! I always have to babysit you because you can't seem to take care of yourself! You fall for anything anybody says to you!" This was the first time she's actually heard him raise his voice, even after all the times he's gotten frustrated with her and even almost got into a fight the last time she saw him. He hadn't gotten mad at her like this, actually yelling at her. How he went from speaking so calmly (although very bitingly) to this, was something she couldn't fathom.

(Y/N) didn't bother to respond, feeling like a reprimanded puppy. A thin sheen of tears collected on her eyes, pooling into her waterline as she looked towards her lap in an effort to hide them. She tried her hardest to just shrink herself down into nothing so she wouldn't have to sit there and hear this from him anymore. She didn't want him to see her as a child that had to be babysat and put in time out for breaking rules. She wanted him to see her as a confident and cool girl that could take care of herself. She wanted him to see her like he saw that cool blonde girl from before.

Harry let out a sigh after she soaked in her feelings for a moment. "Hey, 'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I jus' get frustrated sometimes. I don't think y'realize what people are really thinking around you."

"I—um—it's fine. You're right, I don't have much experience with people. I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you babysit me," she apologized—again—,her voice watery. If she were to be taking a running tally from the last twenty minutes, (Y/N) sure she must have apologized at least one hundred times. Harry's body visibly softens at the last bit; his knuckles relax, his jaw unclenches, and his shoulders soften.

"I didn't mean that. Y'can take care of yourself just fine, 'm jus' being a prick. 'M working on being nicer, and being less of a dick to you. Especially after the last time I saw you," he explained, the mention of last week causing him to tense back up for a moment. "It made me sad seeing y'cry and everything. I don't want to make y'anywhere near that upset, so 'm working on it. Promise."

All (Y/N) did in response was nod, and offer him a small smile, her tears effectively falling back. There was nothing she could think to say to that. Hearing him apologetic like this wasn't something she thought she'd ever hear, and then to tack on him being sweet on her, too? Even after his sweet texts and the gentle way he handled her a week ago, couldn't have prepared her for his words now.

They both stayed in silence again, listening to a different playlist than last time. It seemed to be full of sweet ballads of love and soft instrumentals. The title of this one only had a date, nothing clever like the last one. (Y/N) decided to focus on what that date might have been instead of thinking about his words any longer. The vision of the girl wrapped in his arms enough ammo to ward off the daydreams of a relationship and the fleeting idea of him reciprocating her feelings.

A few songs later (very pretty songs (Y/N) is probably going to add to her own library tonight, she thinks), they pull up in front of her apartment complex. Harry puts the car in park before looking over towards her, his body turning with him.

"'M sorry for ending your night early. I—I just don't think I could've left y'there," he started, more apologies leaving his lips, "and for all the shouting and all...I guess I'll see y'around?"

"It's really okay, Harry. I'm not mad. Maybe we'll all get together again soon," (Y/N) accepted, hoping that what she said was true and that they'd see each other again under better circumstances.

She began feeling around her seat, grabbing her phone and looking for her purse. Her purse that had her keys. Her keys that would allow her into her apartment.

But.

She couldn't find it. At all.

That's when she realized that through the jitters of looking for Harry at the party, she had left everything but her phone in Clare's car: her purse, her keys, her sunglasses, and her favorite pink scrunchie.

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, breaking her out of her silent panic.

"I left all my things in Clare's car," she breathed out, running a hand through her hair before putting her face in her hands. "I-I don't know what to do. I'm sorry you drove all the way here for nothing."

Harry offered no response, just sitting along with her to the tune of his dated playlist. (Y/N) popped up from her hunched position, looking to see Harry still in his turned position, looking off with a blank look in his face with his lip ring snug between his lips. "I'll just call Sarah and wait for her to come back. I don't want to waste anymore of your night. Thank you for driving me ho-."

(Y/N) was cut off by Harry (very rudely, (Y/N) thinks) turning away from her and pulling the car out of park and into drive. Without saying anything, he pulled away from the curb in front of the building and started the opposite direction they came from.

"W-what are you doing? Where are we going?" (Y/N) usually feels quite safe—nervous, but always safe—with Harry, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared right now. She knows Harry wouldn't hurt her, but who know what he's up to especially after she made him so mad earlier, he could just be lying saying it was okay, she's probably overthi-

"'M taking y'to my place. 'M not letting y'sit outside in the dark waiting for Sarah to come home," Harry explained, glancing towards her for a moment before continuing, "Unless, that's not what y'want. I can take y'back to the party or something, if that's better."

"No, it's fine. We can just go to—uh—your house. But only if you're okay with it, I don't want to, like, intrude." Her voice came out rushed towards the end, a nervous feeling taking over at the thought of her actually going to a boy's house. And to make it even more nerve-wracking, it's Harry's house. With Harry's things. And Harry. Alone.

That's a lot of pressure.

Or she could just force him to drive all the way back to that lone house, just to pick up her purse that Sarah could just bring home with her later.

"'M offering, don't worry."

Now (Y/N) had all of ten minutes to properly—and subtly—freak out about her current predicament.

—————

daffodil flowers represent new beginnings, rebirth

okay so part two down there should be two or three parts left. please let me know what you here or drop a request here thank you so much for reading!!

@suweeeeetcreeeeture here you go!! 

#writing #one shot #harry #harry styles #one direction #1d #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles prompt #harry styles fanfiction #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #harry prompt #harry fanficton #harry styles album #meet me in the hallway #sign of the times #carolina #two ghosts #sweet creature #only angel #kiwi #ever since new york #woman #from the dining table #dunkirk

[spoiledcat77]

I don't get people who write "I'm so happy for them" under pictures of Harry Styles and Olivia Wilde. I mean why would you be happy? I would be much happier if I didnt saw them together, if I'm honest.

Regarding the pictures: It feels weird to see pictures which are clearly taken without consent. I mean I love Harry Styles and the One Direction Fandom and really enjoy reading allll the good Larry Fanficton but I don't know if I want to see this. I mean I just really like him but I dont wanna feel like a weirdo stalker.

#rant over #harry styles

[tpwk247]

Hey everyone I just published chapter one of my Harry Styles as himself fanficton on Wattpad. It’s called City Nights by TPWK247

I hope some people will read it <3

#harry styles #1d fan fiction #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles tpwk #tpwk header #wattpad #writing #wattpad writer #fan fiction recommendations #harry styles wattpad #please read #sharethis #one direction #fandom

[loudsuitlover]

Why won’t you ever...

Woke up alone in this hotel room, played with myself; where were you?

He still remembers when he woke up in Detroit and you weren’t there. You didn’t leave a note, you didn’t text him, you didn’t call him to say it was over. You just left and the minute he woke up and found your clothes were nowhere to be found- your underwear had been picked up from the floor and your shoes weren’t next to the bathroom door- he knew you had left for good. 

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon, I’ve never felt less cool. 

It surprised himself the way he had taken it, the way his body seemed to be reacting to the news, for it was as if all this time, even though he knew it had to end and even though he knew there was nothing serious between the two of you, he hadn’t really known it was indeed going to end. 

It had all started when you had worked in that movie together. Neither of you had main roles, but rather he was just somebody’s friend and you were just the beautiful girl the main character had a crush on when he was in high school but the movie wasn’t even set in that time so overall all you got were like three scenes. You were a rising actress at the time, that being your first role for a movie, and he was just in there because they thought it’d be funny for him to do a cameo but he had met you and he had laughed with you and the next thing he knew is he was buried inside you in a hotel room. 

The shooting lasted for a couple of months, two months in which he had had you in more ways he could even think of. He didn’t know what was it about you, maybe the fact that you didn’t want anyone to know about the two of you so you wouldn’t get fame for the wrong reasons, or maybe it was how good you smelled and how soft your skin was but he just couldn’t get enough. All he could think about, whenever you were in front of him, was how your lips felt against his and how you legs felt wrapped around his waist and whenever you weren’t in front of him, it was all you, the way you laughed, the way you joked, the way you sipped on your iced green tea. Yet he never said anything because at that time he didn’t want a girlfriend at all. He was about to go on tour worldwide and quite frankly the last thing he needed was to have someone to care for when he was out there. And anyway, you didn’t seem like you were going to fall for him or anything. In fact you looked like you couldn’t care less. With your upcoming carreer, a boyfriend was the last thing on your plans. You had always thought it could only hold you back so fucking Harry Styles was as good as it got. 

But then, he didn’t understand why he started crying. He didn’t know why it felt so shitty not to be around you or why he felt as if he was choking and his heart ached. 

We haven’t spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated

A month after the movie you had gotten your first main role in a TV show. It was a thriller, the kind of show you would love and watch if you weren’t on it, dreaming with being the shy girl who solved the crimes almost unintentionally but now that girl was you and you were living your best life. 

If that wasn’t marvelous enough, you had also become quite close friends with the rest of the cast, especially with you co-star Theo James who had proven to be the sweetest man in the world. Being a lot more experienced than you in the whole film industry but also with paps and fans and haters and social media and such, he had acted like a protective big brother all the time and you couldn’t be more grateful about that. 

I saw your friend that you know fom work, he said you feel just fine 

Of course the press hadn’t lost their opportunity to start the rumour that you both were dating or at least fooling around but neither of you cared and Theo even said it was good advertising for the show anyway so you never mentioned or denied anything, just let people do them while you did you. 

From afar, and no contact being done, you kept an eye on Harry of course. You were almost positive he hadn’t cared when you had left. After all, he was older than you and hotter and he could have any girl in the world, at most your silent departure had hurt his ego but you weren’t sure it was nothing fucking some model couldn’t fix so for that you weren’t worried. What you were worried about was that thing he did to your belly, even two months after last time you saw him, whenever you saw him on TV or you heard him on the radio, that soft voice of his, the way he moved... You had left that day because you were getting feelings for him and you knew falling for Harry Styles was the dumbest thing you could do. 

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face; comfortable silence is so overrated 

You kept going out with Theo, running lines in small cafés and talking about the upcoming press tour and Harry kept entertaining thousands upon thousands of people every night in his worldwide tour. You even saw him live once. You went to his concert with your friend and posted it on a story in Instagram, hoping he would see, but even if he did he mustn’t have paid much attention or he simply didn’t care, for you get no comment. But how do you comment to the girl you can’t stop thinking about that you missed her? That you were an idiot to pretend there was nothing other than sex between the two of you? He couldn’t do that now, and you were with Theo anyway... 

Woke up the girl who looked just like you, I almost said your name

You only learnt Theo did indeed have a thing for you when the first season of your show was over, but you didn’t act on it or say anything because now that you had some free time, you were hoping you could maybe... Call him? Tell him you missed him? But that was until you saw the photos. He had taken a blonde girl to a Kings of Leon concert. He had never taken you anywhere. You had been such a fool. 

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

He didn’t even have time to break up with the girl because he started nothing. He simply couldn’t get the thought of you out of his head... And why? You had been apart for longer than you were together in the first place so then why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He had just told James Corden he’d be the musical guest in a couple weeks. 

Even my phone misses your call by the way

You nervously sat on the couch in the cosy dressing room James’ team had prepared for you. You had water and fruit, just what you had asked, and there was no Cheetos for this time Theo wasn’t there. He had had to stay in London with his sister, so you were promoting the series on your own. You were good at it by now, you had done all the press tour around Europe already but your belly was in a twist and it wasn’t because of the questions, and it wasn’t because of the host or the audience, but it was because you had heard the sound check when you came over the studio yesterday and you would have recognized that voice under water. 

There was a knock on your door and you stood up from the couch, straightening the skirt of your little black dress as you walked to open the door. There he was, with longer hair and a big white grin, dimples deep on his cheeks as his green eyes stared at you, apparently happy to see you. 

“Hi.” You smiled. 

“Hi.” He laughed. “I kinda wrote a song about you and all you gotta say to me is hi?” He grinned. 

“It’s a good song.” You smiled. 

#Harry Styles #harry #styles #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanficton #harry styles fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #from the dining table #love this song so much