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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years ago

Text

She (ii)

Part one.

Harry was sure a part of him died when he opened the massive delivery package by his porch that afternoon.

It was the things that he left at Y/N’s apartment. His pants, his toothbrush, his books, even the pictures Y/N used to hang on her ceiling and walls. Everything that had anything to do with him was now returned to him. But what really hit him hard was the Fleetwood Mac record at the bottom of the pile—the one that he gave her on the day she finally let him into her world.

He remembered one morning, as they laid naked on bed, she asked him why he was so persistent to talk to her those cold December nights.

“Did you like my apartment that much?” she’d ask, fingers playing with Harry’s curls. “You could just browse the internet for this kind of aesthetic, you know.”

He smiled as Mystified from the record he gave her played in the background. “You know ’s not about your place, love.”

“Just doesn’t make sense to me. I mean you hated me...” she could feel the rapid increase of her heartbeat remembering those painful memories of him.

“Hey, I never hated you. I was...” he paused and she nodded since she understood the whole ‘lovelorn Harry Styles’ ordeal. “And I didn’t think I had thanked you properly for keeping me alive that night.”

“You are very heavy, you know that?” she poked his nose.

Harry returned the gesture with a kiss on her nose. “The universe has obviously set us up. I mean, of all places, I ended up at that cafe and I felt extremely familiar when I woke up here… Like a strong feeling that I’d known you for so long just from your stuff—I don’t get those feelings very often so I can’t just brush it off now, can I?”

She giggled. “You don’t believe in those things.”

“I do,” he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear and stared at her eyes and her lips. “I’m just glad I didn’t miss it.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “Because, listen, this record really is beautiful!”

Harry couldn’t stop replaying that peaceful morning in his head. He could still remember the way she curved her lips and the smell of her hair, everything was still crystal vision for him.

“What is it, H?” the silvery sound of the woman that he chose disrupted his flashbacks.

“Nothing, just some things from an old friend,” he answered quickly, closing the box and bringing it inside the house.

The girlfriend pressed a quick peck on his lips and whispered something about shower, a blow, and some job, but he didn’t really pay attention. His eyes were glued to one of the pictures peeking through the box lid. It was a new year party at his friend’s house. He was tipsy but he could still remember how he pulled her close by her waist and kissed her when midnight struck. She didn’t say anything about the kiss the next day because obviously she thought he was too inebriated to remember. But he remembered their first kiss, he always did.

She was just that kind of girl. The one that never demanded any explanation from him. But now, he wished she’d done the other way around. He wished she’d screamed at him, slapped him, or even punched him in his face. Yet, she didn’t.

The night Harry left her for the girl of his dreams, nothing but guilt crawled inside him. He was so sure that if he didn’t chase his dream girl, it would only cause more pain for him and Y/N. He would’ve pretended that he loved her for God knows how long and it would only snowball into so much lies and affectations. He knew he should’ve picked some other time, but he couldn’t just miss his dream girl that he hadn’t seen for almost a year. He had to chase her down while he had the chance, even if it meant leaving Y/N right there and then.

When he came to Y/N’s place the next morning after spending the night with his dream girl, he was prepared to accept her rage. Instead, she just nodded when he ended the whole thing. She only said a faint ‘I understand.’ without a single fight. It would’ve been easier if Y/N was angry at him. It would’ve been simpler to frame him as the bad guy. But with that weak ‘I know.’ when he said that he couldn’t just let his love go, Harry began to question his own decision.

Sure his perfect girl didn’t really understand his own music like Y/N did but relationship was not some full-blown similarity contest, it’s how two people compromised on differences, he always said to himself. Sure his perfect girl didn’t laugh at his jokes like Y/N did, but maybe he really wasn’t that funny, he always said to himself. Sure his perfect girl didn’t spoon him when he felt overwhelmed or caress him lovingly when he had a rough day or pepper him with kisses when he got home or playfully tickle him when he fell asleep while watching a movie or…

“Harry?” her voice snapped him back into reality. “You’ve been standing there for half an hour. What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely,” he nervously answered without thinking.

She shrugged at his response and continued talking about some news she heard from her manager about him being the performer at the most anticipated fashion show where she’d also walk at. She was excited and Harry just smiled, wishing he could wipe out Y/N from his memories and be fully present for the woman that he loved.

Y/N didn’t really think about Harry. Well, she didn’t really want to think about Harry but it was just beyond her control. He was everywhere. He was sleeping on her couch, he was sipping coffee by the kitchen counter, he was putting his shoes on, he was talking to her plants, he was always there. And she just couldn’t drive the vivid memories of him away even when she had removed his traces off her place.

She was busy without a doubt. She finally was able to get her old life back with even bigger shots. Yet somehow, tears just rolled down her cheeks with no warning—right in the middle of nowhere, she would suddenly feel the pain throbbing in her chest and she couldn’t help but cry.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?!” one of the models asked her in panic when she accidentally bumped into her sobbing in the dressing room.

“Oh, this is embarrassing! Don’t worry, it happens all the time. My eyes are very sensitive,” she lied.

It wasn’t her eyes. It’s just her. She could watch some comedy special at home and laugh so hard that it turned into weeping. So much weeping that she lost sleep over and over again. She always told herself to stop crying as if it was a crime to shed a tear over her unrequited love, but the prominent swell on her eyes could never conceal her hurting.

Where did I go wrong? she’d constantly ask herself. Was she not caring enough? Was she not understanding enough? Was she not giving him enough space? Was she not beautiful enough? The questions kept haunting her and she didn’t know the answers. It’s like when Harry left that morning, he ripped a part of her heart and left a big hole inside her. And that hole had now become a void of echoes, screaming how not good enough she was.

After all, she really did love him. She loved him so much that when she unexpectedly saw him and her again that day on set, she could only turn away.

He looked just as surprised as she was when he walked into the magnificent floral set. She looked thinner and exhausted, but still captivating in her simple white tee and blue flare jeans. It broke his heart a little when she turned away.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself for even thinking that way about her when his girlfriend was right next to him. He said it himself that he’d chosen his dream girl over Y/N so he couldn’t understand why he suddenly craved to see Y/N closer, to touch her, to be with her again.

Neither Harry nor Y/N knew that they would be working together again. It was a massive pre-show photoshoot and there were so many models and crew members involved, of course the people in charge wouldn’t inform who did what in details. She was one of the many photographers too, so it was one crowded set.

On top of that, not many knew that Harry and Y/N were a couple for quite a long time, not even his girlfriend. Hell, she didn’t even seem to remember the ‘rude photographer’ that she used to talk about in interviews. Moreover with Harry’s naturally friendly impression, no one really assumed they were a thing even when they were seen together a handful times before. So everyone was really having fun with this cheeky flowery session when Y/N was actually dying inside.

“Sorry, could you please change that?” she asked one of the assistants when he played Rolling Stones’ She’s A Rainbow, all the while capturing the gorgeous brunette with hazel eyes.

Harry felt a sharp sting spreading inside his body as he knew damn well that’s the song they used to dance to, the one that he said reminded him of her. He even set it as her personal ringtone and she always blushed every time he sang it to her. It just carried so many sweet memories only they knew.

“Please, don’t. I really love this song!” his girlfriend said to the assistant and immediately turned to Harry with the biggest smile on her face. “H, you sang this to me on our first date, remember?”

She felt paralyzed after hearing that. Just as she thought she couldn’t hurt more, he had to take away the good memories from her too and turned it into another reason to convince herself that she was nothing but a substitute.

Harry noticed her subtle response even when no one else did and he could feel his inside burning. She clearly was hiding so much disappointment and he just wanted to hit himself with a brick for putting her in such misery.

Honestly, he didn’t even remember that it was his first date’s song. They went to a karaoke bar, for fuck’s sake. Of course he’d sing along, just not especially to her. But when he sang it to Y/N he meant it. Just like when he kissed her and made love to her, he always meant all those. It would always be their song and he wished he could just run to Y/N and told her that it’s not true.

Y/N took a deep breath and went on the best she could. At this point, she was just trying to get through without crying. She just wanted to be professional and it really was difficult when the person who destroyed her over and over again was less ten feet away.

It didn’t take long before the coordinator screamed to escort the models and other crews into the warehouse next door, out of the blue. Something about walking and blocking and it was definitely not on their schedule.

The coordinator was sweating, dreading when he explained hurriedly to Y/N something about board of executives and sudden rehearsal review or something, and that she needed to stay put while the other photographers covered the warehouse next door. She nodded anxiously, silently worried that she might not deliver her best work with this change of plans. But then just before he left the set, he scanned the room and laid his eyes on Harry. He talked to Harry rushingly in private and within seconds, everyone left the room.

Everyone but Y/N and Harry.

Harry walked his way to Y/N, eyes not leaving hers but she didn’t reciprocate.

“Y/N,” he said lowly and he was devastated to see that she just instinctively flinched away from him, just like how human body avoided the same pain twice. “I was told to get my pictures done while they’re away.”

She nodded and cued him to get on set. He couldn’t stop staring at her quivering lips when she told him where to stand. She didn’t say much, she didn’t even try to fix his poses like she did with the models previously as if she didn’t want to touch him.

“I didn’t sing that song to her, I swear,” he cleared his throat to break the excruciating silence. “We went to a karaoke bar and that song was on.”

“It’s just a song, Harry,” her shaky voice said it all, that it was never just a song to her.

“It wasn’t,” he said to himself.

She heard that but she just sighed.

“And I didn’t—“ he stopped mid sentence as she finally looked him in the eye.

“Harry, I don’t need any of your explanations. It’s fine, I’m fine,” she quickly said before averting her gaze back to her camera.

“Are you coming to the show too?” he asked.

She just nodded.

“I’m singing that new song,” he scratched his forehead. “The one I showed you before.”

Harry didn’t know what’s gotten into him. Just less than a few months ago he left this girl in front him for the one that he loved. He chose the other girl over Y/N. But since then, instead of feeling whole he just felt incomplete.

And now that he saw Y/N again, there’s something urging him to reach her again, to feel her, to somehow make it right. He really couldn’t even comprehend his own feelings.

Why would he miss someone he’d left?

Why would he crave for someone he was certain he didn’t love?

And why did she have to act all tough when every sign of her body showed the exact opposite?

Y/N just went on capturing Harry without a single word. He really looked beautiful in that set of suits, she must admit. And she longed to be held by him again. The pain inside her chest just kept coming back now that he’s right there, in front of her, and not being hers. She just couldn’t stop wondering, was he ever hers to begin with?

It was the longest hour in her life. At one point Harry even tried to crack an old intimate inside joke they used to laugh at, which she just uncomfortably ignored. Harry himself didn’t know either why he wanted to see her laugh so badly that he ended up telling that joke, knowing damn well it would just drive her further away—why would he want to drive her even closer anyway? He really couldn’t place himself correctly when he’s near her and it’s scaring him.

She never felt more grateful when she saw everyone else came back into the set a few inconvenience minutes later. Within seconds Harry was back with his girlfriend and she was back with holding it in. To say it was a bad day for her was an understatement, it was agonizing—but it’s still not over. She would have to relive the whole experience again a few days later, during the show night where she would be backstage with everyone. And by everyone, it particularly meant Harry and the girlfriend. She felt uneasy just thinking about those two again.

Working as quickly as she could that late night to develop the roll and send it to the editor, she found herself staring at Harry’s photographs. She still subconsciously cut the rolls and hung it under ‘their’ ceiling. Just as she realized that she’s not supposed to hang it there anymore, she heard a loud knock on her door. She didn’t expect anyone, it was way too late for some visit; she was sure she was about to get robbed. She impulsively grabbed her developing tray and stood behind the door, ready to attack the uninvited guest. Slowly she opened the door and fearfully swung the tray with eyes closed while screaming an exceptionally loud ‘Help!’

“Y/N! Stop!” Harry grabbed her hands so that she’d stop hitting him and left a little chuckle. “A tray?”

For a moment, Harry felt like it was his Y/N. The one who did just the silliest things, the one with the most peculiar reflex that only he understood. For a moment, he believed it was all back to when they were together.

She jolted when she opened her eyes. The last time he stood right there was that morning when he decided to leave her. Seeing him again, in that same spot, revived the ache inside her.

“What are you doing here?” she couldn’t stop staring, not sure whether he was real or not.

Harry let go of her hands when she forcefully wiggled them out. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” she took a step back.

“I…” he scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow and closed the door. “Good night, Harry.”

“No, no. Wait,” he quickly hold the door.

He couldn’t believe history repeated itself again. Just exactly almost a year ago they were in this very position: her hating him and him trying to get to her.

But Harry really couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t think of anything else, he couldn’t even get himself to sleep next to his girlfriend, he just needed to see Y/N. He needed Y/N.

“I left her,” he blurted out.

“What?” she almost dropped her tray.

“I was so blinded… and I’m sorry it takes me this long to realize. I just…” Harry took a deep breath and look her in the eye. “I love you.”

She froze. Of course she had dreamed about this moment a few months ago. Those lonely nights where she just hoped to find him knocking at her door, telling her it was just all a misunderstanding, and that he loved her. But now, after being broken over and over again, she just didn’t know how to respond. There’s a teeny part of her that was angry—angry that it took him this long to come back to her. But most of her was afraid knowing he could easily wreck her again should she give him yet another chance.

It’s like all of her emotions just mixed altogether, all jumbled up, that she didn’t know what to do but... laugh. She laughed so hard, tears started forming by the corner of her eyes and Harry could only stare at her, disconcerted and dumbfounded.

“Y/N?” he asked calmly, trying to cover his confusion.

“You saw me earlier today…” she wiped the tears and struggled to talk in between laughters. “And just thought, ‘I’m gonna fuck her up again.’ now, do you? That’s hilarious, Harry!”

He shook his head. “No, never.”

“I’m not your fucking toy, Harry!” her laughter slowly stopped and there were only tears left.

She finally stopped laughing and slowly but surely, she couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. She just cried and her whole body shook. All those pent-up feelings she kept for so long had exploded and Harry was there to witness how much he had damaged the person he actually loved.

He just hugged her tightly and at first she tried to push him away by punching his chest but he stayed holding her tight. Then she stopped hitting him and just sank into him as if she had no energy left to even refuse him, that it took almost everything inside her to resist him. And that just showed how much she loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he kept whispering to her.

Harry still held her just as tight even when she had stopped sobbing and only had to release when she pulled away. He held her cheek but she dodged away and stepped further back instead.

“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked in despair.

And as she looked at his beautiful face, the one that she trailed with her fingers every morning, the one that she found comfort in by just staring at it, she took one deep breath.

“No,” she said as she slammed the door, leaving them in a much harder state than their rough encounter those cold December nights last year.

Part three.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry imagine #tinayoufatlarrdd

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years ago

Text

She (iii)

Part one.

Part two.

If there was anything Y/N learned the past years she’d been dabbling in this industry, was that those who survived were those with the thickest mask. No matter what kind of personal turmoil was in the way, unless it’s something to market, it would be meticulously tucked away. So tidy and pristine as if these people had two faces: one for the world and one for themselves.

Harry, especially, was a master of this sort of mind trick. No one really knew how he truly felt behind his charming rockstar persona. He was always so smiley and friendly even in a horrendous day. His extraordinary composure in the public’s eye really was his strongest suit and no one really doubted he would ever cross that lifelong built-up image. (Except that one time he blew up in front of Y/N and ruined her entire career).

So it wasn’t a surprise when Harry came with the warmest attitude to the show venue that day. People would scream his name and he would politely reply with a gentle, ‘How are you?’ even when he didn’t get a wink of sleep the past few nights, overthinking that moment the love of his life slammed her door closed, but this time it might be for good.

He did doze off for a while as he waited for Y/N to miraculously reopen the door and take him back that night, only to find her superintendent waking him up as it was already three in the morning and him curling up by her doorway got her neighbors worried that he might be a homeless person.

“Go home, son,” the super helped him up. “Give her some time.”

He complied. That’s how desperate he was: he took an advice from a superintendent because he simply didn’t know how to fix this mess himself.

He was exhausted and diluted. But no one could see over the dazzling black suits that somehow highlighted his dimples. No one but Y/N.

Y/N knew the moment he walked to the backstage, he immediately put his shades on which meant he must’ve gotten pretty dark circles under his eyes. Y/N also knew the moment he decided to take a small break just right before going on stage, people thought he needed a wee when he must’ve needed a time off before performing, something he did when he felt overwhelmed or not in the right mood. And of course Y/N noticed the moment he just nodded politely to his ex girlfriend, to which she just blatantly ignored, meant he really was finished with her—if he was still smitten, he would be pining over how beautiful she looked in that couture lingerie.

She couldn’t fathom how much she hated herself for knowing this much about Harry. And it made her so angry at herself because it just showed how much she still loved him but at the same time she still couldn’t trust him. She was in so much agony.

She had fun though, taking pictures of the lovely models before they took the runway like badasses that they were. She had the best time of her life in the hasty backstage. The rush and adrenaline just pumped her inspiration up.

That was until Harry started performing. Her eyes were glued to the TV screen right above the vanity and so did the many pairs of eyes in that room. Everyone was captivated by the energy Harry exuded on that runway. He really was a star, even brighter than the gorgeous supermodels.

“He changed the song last minute. Just the last song, though,” Y/N heard the crew whispering right behind her, as if they’re afraid the news would freak everyone out.

“What? Why?” one of them exclaimed but was immediately shushed by the others.

“I don’t know. Famous people are weird as fuck,” the other one snapped.

That, she agreed.

“What about the models? How are they supposed to walk unrehearsed to the new music?”

“He said the tempo is the same so it’s still pretty much as rehearsed. Just different melody or something,” the crew took a collective deep nervous breath. “You know our boss knew and agreed—dude must’ve been very charming.”

“Of course, he’s Harry fucking Styles.”

Y/N was nervous for Harry. He could ruin this whole show and definitely his own career with such impromptu decision. Well, maybe not as plummeting as hers at that time, but he would be slandered if he didn’t nail this. Why would he risk his unblemished reputation when his previous set list was just perfect as it was?

Then it hit her.

The intro was way too familiar for her to miss. The piano subtly kicked in, spotlight fell into the first model who professionally hid her own confusion of the song change. Then suddenly the whole band started playing and Harry came running to the stage with his glorious charisma and sang his heart out.

It was Rolling Stones’ She’s A Rainbow. It was their song. He changed it to their song.

Y/N still couldn’t believe the length Harry actually went for her when suddenly she saw his supermodel ex entered the runway. Her face couldn’t hide it: she was excited because according to her claim, it was their first date song instead. She looked… prepared for Harry to do this grand gesture to her.

Harry knew this time would come, that his ex would walk exactly as he tried to confess to Y/N. He tried to dodge away when she tried to nudge his cheek playfully, just like the other models did, but it happened. And the whole crowd cheered since they thought they were still together.

So he did the only thing that crossed his mind, that would put an end to this love triangle once and for all. As he hit the chorus, he stared at the camera knowing Y/N would watch it from the backstage TV.

“She comes in colours everywhere, she combs her hair. She’s like a rainbow!” he exclaimed. “Coming, colours everywhere. Oh, Y/N… She comes in colours!”

There. He said it. Her name was immortalized in his performance tonight and probably forever because it’s broadcasted live worldwide and he’s Harry Styles.

A loud gasp left Y/N’s mouth and she could see from the TV how his ex was just as surprised but remained posing and smiling so widely as if her grin would hide the unpleasant surprise in her eyes. When she walked back, she didn’t try to tease Harry. Instead she just strode pass him like he didn’t exist.

What happened next was a blur. It was an absolute shock for Y/N and maybe the whole world who all seemed to put Harry’s enigmatic love life under microscope. She went on autopilot mode while doing her job because apparently his fans found their photo together and pointed out that she was the girl Harry sang for and bombarded her phone notifications into overheating. Because of that, his ex girlfriend apparently realized who she was and came up to her. She asked Y/N what exactly happened between her and Harry in a not-so-friendly tone but Y/N was just as confused. She barely answered when the supermodel had to get back to the runway for the closing walk.

This sudden attention directed solely to her was too overwhelming.

She hated being the center of attention. Well, she loved it when it’s about her work but certainly not for this reason. And she wasn’t exactly mad at his gesture too. In fact, it was kind of sweet knowing how outrageous the thing he just did. But she just didn’t know how she felt towards him as a person. Should she forgive him just because he proclaimed his love whilst risking his career for her? Should they start over knowing he could easily betray her trust again?

When Harry finished his setlist, which was spectacular to say the least, he ran to the backstage. He needed to see Y/N but she wasn’t there. He checked everywhere and she was nowhere to be found. He made an appearance to the after party at some exclusive nightclub with only intention to find Y/N, but she wasn’t there either. He wanted to find her but he just didn’t where to start.

Did she need more time? How much more?

“What the fuck was that?” his ex walked up to him as he slurped a glass of apple juice by the bar.

“An apple juice,” he said nonchalantly, not really focusing his thoughts on her.

“No, I know what that is,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean what was that back on the runway? Did you do something behind my back with that girl?”

Harry just sighed. “We dated after you dumped me last year.”

“What? Don’t you remember what she did to me?” she lingered her hands on her hips as if stressing her importance.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did she do to you?”

“You know, she… She—“ she tried to mutter some words but it failed to come out because now that she repeated the toe stepping incident in her mind, she herself realized how ridiculous the whole thing was—just plain irritating, ol’ A-list celeb stereotypical antic.

“Thought so too,” Harry mumbled to himself.

And with that suddenly it was crystal clear. He really couldn’t even see what he used to see in this woman. She was not kind, maybe she was in her own version of life that was filled with fame, but not kind enough to treat other people respectfully. And the fact that he changed himself to accommodate that behaviour, run back to her, beg for her love, and leave Y/N who actually helped him find his old self back—it all made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t let Y/N slip, not again.

Harry quickly said goodbye and made his way to Y/N’s apartment. He knocked so hard, so ferociously that if her super didn’t come out and stop him he could’ve broken the door.

“Please, it’s really late,” the superintendent tried his best to hide his anger.

“Sorry, I just really…” Harry tried to catch a breath.

“She’s not home yet,” he informed Harry. “For fuck’s sake maybe she really did need some time, don’t you think?”

Harry nodded.

Then it struck him like a lightning. She must’ve been thinking and there’s only one place she’d go to in the entire world.

Harry sprung after thanking the super and almost got hit by a car twice on his way. He didn’t even know why he was such in a rush, he just needed to find her as soon as possible. He couldn’t bare to lose her again even for just another second.

Running through the winter air really wasn’t the most fun exercise especially when Harry wasn’t dressed for one. But when he saw her there, it all paid off.

It was the garden where they used to have spontaneous picnics under the stars. It was always her favorite place to pace down, and most of the times it was with Harry. She even used to say that she wanted to be burried there when she died. That’s how Harry knew she’d be there.

No one was there but her, the portable turntable they used to bring, and the shared blanket they used to snuggle in.

Harry walked slowly to her but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed and he could hear the muffled melody from her headphone—she must’ve played it on maximum volume to shut the world out, it’s her thing that he just got used to overtime.

She still didn’t realize as Harry sat next to her. He didn’t dare to sneak into the blanket although he could freeze to death. He didn’t want to scare her off again. He just wanted to be there, to see her enjoying her own little world that he was once in, looking like the sweetest creature he’d ever seen.

Harry sat there for almost half an hour, exchanging his stare back and forth from the beautiful winter sky to Y/N. He craved to be a part of her world again yet the harsh winter just kept testing him. It didn’t take long before he started sneezing so awfully that it surprised Y/N so much she jumped from her very comfortable position.

“Harry?! What—“ she saw his red nose and shivering body, and immediately pulled him into her blanket.

She hurriedly untied her scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and grabbed his hands so he’d be warm. And Harry just couldn’t stop thinking, why on earth did he ever leave this amazing person who cared about him just as much as herself?

“Are you warm now? Oh my God, Harry, I am so mad at you!” she screamed but he knew it was of worry. “This is the coldest winter. Don’t you see the news? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yes,” he whispered in between his shivers.

“What?” she asked as she began letting go of Harry’s hands but he gripped her thumbs like a baby, not wanting to lose touch of her.

“I just g-go…” he gulped. “I go crazy without you. Please, come back to me. I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”

She sighed. They just stared at each other but Harry knew she was thinking. There was love in her eyes, but so were fear and anger and doubts. He understood her hesitation, though, so he just savored this moment with their hands clasped together under the moonlight that might be their last, hoping it would never end.

“You really hurt me a lot,” she said lowly.

He could only stare down. He knew he didn’t deserve another chance with her after everything he did, but he wished he could show her that everything would be different. After all, he really knew for sure how he felt now. There’s no room for second guessing in him, no more supermodel first love, just Y/N.

“But you made me happy too,” she said it almost like a mock to herself. “Happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life. Now I’m the crazy one.”

He couldn’t believe what he’d heard that his gaze immediately went up to see her pressing her lips just like she always did when she tried to hold back a smile. He really loved the little things about her, all of them.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“You’re gonna have to work very hard to hear those words from me,” she answered.

His cheeky smile just lit up, showing off his dimples. “You don’t have to, I already know you do.”

“You’re on a fucking thin ice here,” she frowned.

But Harry didn’t care. He knew she loved him so much and that would always be enough even when she never wanted say it.

“That was one bold move at the show,” she removed the headphone jack from the portable turntable and put it on speaker.

“So that wins you over?” he gently laid on his back and opened his arms as if asking her for a cuddle.

There was still lack of trust in her movement considering it had been months since they even touched each other but when she finally laid inside his warm embrace, it just felt as pleasant as it used to, if not better. Harry couldn’t even describe his feelings at this moment—he was just… home.

“That and the warning my super gave me lately,” she answered lightly. “About a tall man with a lot of tattoos sleeping on my doorway."

“Such a tattle-tale,” he rolled his eyes.

She just chuckled. Oh how Harry missed her laugh.

“I love this song,” he said as Neil Young’s Harvest Moon played from the turntable.

They both remembered that day she finally let him in, she played this song too. But they didn’t say anything. They were just enjoying each other’s warmth as Neil Young kept serenading them.

She could feel him nuzzling her hair, a little habit he always did when they’re cuddling and she obviously missed the past months they’re apart. She knew they would need a lot of struggle to rebuild this but she was sure the moment Harry held her hands tightly and put them inside his coat pockets, that he wouldn’t let go again. With them, it’s always the small things.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #tinayoufatlarrdd

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on-edi-r-e-ct-io-n · 7 years ago

Photo

OH HONEY BABY :’) you sweet, beautiful woman 💖💖 you’re so lovely and i love you so so much 💖 i LOVED your imagine and please don’t compare it to mine :( it was absolutely amazing and you’re great at what you do.

I love you so much, sweets. The happiest of birthdays to you, my dear xx

How i Make Money with With my Blog You've never seen One Direction like this before! #7 will make you cringe. link

I really want to cry?? @harry-writings

#Harry Imagine #1d news #swag #Wichita #Kansas

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 3 years ago

Text

Games

Blue.

As far as Harry’s eyes could see, everything was blue. It’s so peaceful and calming. The sound of the ocean sweeping the sand, distant kids’ laughter carried away with the wind that softly brushed his curls.

If he shut his eyes, he could almost paint her eyes. Her eyes were quite indescribable—they were not just blue, there’s a splotch of green and a slight hazel. They’re… perfectly iridescent, just like her.

It’s not a secret between his circle that Harry really liked her, he had been for quite awhile now. But every time he suggested them—even when it’s so subtle—to go beyond the friendship mark, she always pulled away further from him. She drove him crazy.

Harry didn’t know either how despite having dated several other people since he lost hope on her, he couldn’t seem to erase her from his mind. Perhaps it’s true what people say, you always want what you can’t have.

“Dreaming about me?”

Her voice disrupted his little siesta, he almost believed she had entered his realm of dreams. There she was, head blocking the sun, cheeky smile teasing Harry who just stared at her, infatuated.

“Hey… You made it,” he sat up and couldn’t help but smile.

She looked so beautiful with her bucket hat on, and of course her lovely skin glowed under the sun and highlighted by her floral yellow bikini.

“I know, crazy, right?! One day I’m in on the other end of the country and the next day I’m here, the other other end of the country!” She giggled.

She sat down and laid her rotan basket filled with skin product, towels, and a bottle of wine. Harry’s eyes were so fixated on her that he didn’t realize there’s another person behind her the whole time, unfolding the towel and laying it out on the sand. She then sat on the towel with the other person.

“Silly me, I forgot!” She grinned, realizing that Harry had been staring at her company. “Harry, this is my friend, Y/N. Y/N this is my friend, Harry.”

Y/N turned to Harry and gave a cordial smile. Harry waved his hand as if saying hello and examined her for a second. On the contrary, Y/N was not at all smiley. She was so quiet that he didn’t even notice her. Her shoulder-length hair often covered her face and she wore baggy t-shirt and shorts instead of bathing suit. Harry didn’t really pay attention, though. It’s not a surprise that his lifelong crush often had all type of friends over from every place imaginable in the world. She was just that easygoing.

“Y/N is my childhood friend. She just moved to the city so she’s staying at my place for a couple of months,” she explained as she put on her sunscreen.

“Well, Y/N, be prepared for the Oscar-winning fart,” Harry teased.

She playfully punched Harry’s arm. “It’s just that one time and we had curry!”

Y/N chuckled.

“Hey, let’s go to the water!” She stood up immediately and ran to the ocean.

Harry stared at her body that now looked smaller and smaller, until she looked like a tiny dot in the blue ocean. He turned to his left and saw Y/N flip open a book.

“So how long have you known Alessandra?” Harry tried to break the ice.

Y/N didn’t seem to realize that he was talking to her.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, hi, sorry?” Y/N closed her book.

“How long have you known Alessandra?”

“It must’ve been around ten years,” she answered shortly.

“Wow, you must’ve really known her well,” Harry opened a can of beer and passed another one for Y/N.

“Hmm,” Y/N grabbed the beer, opened it in one swift and sips it, not eager to answer Harry’s question.

Dead silence.

“So, what are you doing in the city?” Harry tried again.

“I just got a job at a restaurant…” she answered lowly, almost ashamed. “I want to be a writer though, so I hope I’ll get there.”

“That’s really great. Hey, good luck,” Harry seemed to have concluded the conversation, also not eager to continue this dead-end interaction. “’m going to the water.”

He waved a quick goodbye to Y/N and run to the water, joining Alessandra. He must’ve thought Y/N was quite a bummer—a terrible conversation partner.

Y/N didn’t mind that impression though. For years now, she had found that talking was not her best skill. She didn’t have the charisma and charm when it came to conversing with other people. So she learned to be content with just herself as her own company.

Y/N grabbed her book and for a moment, she observed those two.

They look really great together, she thought.

If it wasn’t a private beach, the media would’ve had a field day. An international heartthrob and a bombshell rising actress, tickling each other by the sea. Obviously, Y/N knew who Harry was. He was everywhere. Y/N could never deny just how talented and beautiful Harry was. In fact she was almost starstruck when she first saw him from afar today. Luckily, he didn’t notice.

She would be lying if she said a part of her wasn’t excited when Harry started talking to her. But after realizing how stiff their interaction went and how relaxed he was around Alessandra, Y/N knew she fit nowhere in this A-lister world.

She’s quite happy she got a chance to peek around this world for a couple of months until she found her own place in the city, and this would be that one summer she’s going to tell her grandchildren—that one summer I met Harry Styles by the beach with Alessandra Moore.

Which is why it was a surprise when Harry instead asked Y/N for a drink, when Alessandra was in the bathroom.

“Me?” Y/N asked, unsure.

Harry nodded. “How does Friday sound?”

“Are you sure?” Y/N was still confused.

Harry chuckled. “What’s wrong with a drink? It’ll be fun, love.”

Y/N timidly nodded. She couldn’t hide her blush and Harry could see it. He picked up his phone and gave it to her for her number.

“I’ll call you,” Harry said, right before Alessandra came back and sat between them.

Y/N smiled. She couldn’t stop smiling until the night of the date. She still couldn’t believe that it’s not even a week since she’d moved to the city, and she already got a date! At first, she didn’t even believe that she would make a single friend, let alone a date?

Harry did call her earlier that day, giving her the details on their date. Y/N paced around the room when she picked up the phone, but tried to hide it. She just hoped her excitement didn’t leak through the phone. She thought it would be a massive turnoff if Harry found out that she was that inexperienced in dating that she got overly excited over an invitation of drink.

“Hey, Y/N?” He paused. “If Alessandra asks, just tell her the truth, okay? Tell her you’re seeing me for a drink.”

“Yeah, of course…” Y/N agreed, although this request felt a little neither here nor there.

She brushed it off though. Perhaps Harry just didn’t want to make it weird, so it would be better to be honest upfront. After all, who knew? They might go for a second date, right?

Alessandra did ask why she dressed up and of course Y/N told her the truth. Alessandra’s smile fell for a second but she shook it off and went back to her bubbly self, wishing Y/N all the luck in the world.

When Y/N arrived at the venue of the date, she was shocked. She thought it would be a quiet restaurant, or a cafe… but it was a very packed nightclub. She walked through the people and found Harry in the VIP room, already wasted.

“You made it!” He yelled through the music.

“H-Hi…” she didn’t know what to respond.

She thought they would have a romantic dinner over a glass of wine, but it seemed that her idea of romance was deeply skewed by the films she’d watched. Maybe, this was what it really was. After all, Harry did ask her out for a drink. It made sense that he was already hammered beyond words.

“So, what would you like to drink?” Harry pulled out his phone and read through the menu.

She licked her lips. For a moment she thought if she ran away, he wouldn’t even notice. But just as she was ready to get up, he turned to her and moved closer to her.

Their faces were only inches apart, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She didn’t kiss back and immediately turned away, face as read as a tomato.

“What’s wrong, love? Did you not like it?”

“No, it’s—“ she gulped. “It’s great, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry realized right there and then that Y/N had never been kissed before. He could tell.

“Hey, ‘m sorry,” he grabbed her hand.

“It’s okay,” she curved a smile.

A part of her was happy that she finally got her first kiss, but she knew she didn’t want it to happen this way. But she also didn’t want to look inexperienced or difficult. She wanted Harry to like her.

When the drinks that Harry ordered arrived, they started drinking and they talked. Harry asked how she got to know Alessandra. She told him that her mum used to work at Alessandra’s house as a gardener and she used to come over after school. Y/N could still remember the beautiful garden and colorful flowers. She could still remember everything.

Y/N was obviously too drunk to notice that their conversation would drive back to Alessandra. She would ask something about Harry—like what’s his favourite food—but he would avert the question and somehow redirect it to anything about Alessandra. And of course, Y/N would answer, she just wanted to keep the conversation going.

But the thing is, she didn’t know the answer to most of those questions. You see, she was never too close to Alessandra. Sure, she had known her for more than ten years, but to say they were childhood friends would be an exaggeration. How come, Harry would ask.

She told him how they never even went to the same school—Alessandra was private-schooled and she went to ordinary public school. She remembered staying for a maximum of three hours per day just to wait for her mum to finish pulling weeds as Alessandra and her mum sunbathe by the pool, in which during that time Y/N would do homework instead. They never talked. They didn’t really know each other. They were from different worlds. But one day, Alessandra’s mum found some ‘clubbing’ pills she didn’t know the name of in Alessandra’s backpack. In a moment of panic, Alessandra said it was Y/N’s and both Y/N and her mum were banned from the estate ever since. So the only reason she could stay at Alessandra’s place these two months, was because Alessandra owed her one.

I guess, she really did, Y/N thought to herself.

Harry never knew this side of Alessandra, and listening to Y/N, as he predicted, was some kind of window to Alessandra’s deeper world. He did feel bad for her, but as Y/N said herself, the past is in the past. Besides, they were both kids. Who wouldn’t do stupid things like that when they were kids, Harry mumbled. Y/N didn’t say anything to that, instead she just swayed along to the loud music. She felt like she could fly away after gulping her third Old Fashioned of the night.

It was already past midnight when Harry drove Y/N back to Alessandra’s place. He asked if it was okay for him to stay with her for the night, since he said he was too drunk to drive, to which Y/N said yes.

When they finally laid in bed, Harry pressed another kiss on her lips. She once again blushed and soon fell into a deep sleep, but Harry just laid there awake, staring at the ceiling.

His mind traced back to the day at the beach, when he chased Alessandra in the water and she started questioning him after seeing him talk to Y/N. What are you guys talking about? Do you think she’s cute? She’d ask, among other questions that Harry would’ve never thought would come out of her mouth. It was almost as if... she was jealous.

Alessandra had always seemed very secure with herself in Harry’s eyes. And Harry always felt like she got him wrapped around her fingers. Even when Harry started going out with other models or actresses, she never budged. As if she knew he would soon end up wanting her again. But this time, it’s different. Even his little interaction with Y/N toiled a slight reaction from Alessandra. That’s why he decided to ask Y/N for a drink—to get to know more about Alessandra.

When he woke up the next morning, Y/N was already gone. He read the sticky note by the bedside table.

‘Off to work. Suit yourself :) -Y/N’

He grunted, not at the note but at the throbbing pain in his head. He was limping his way out of Y/N’s bedroom when he saw Alessandra sit on the couch having her breakfast.

“Crazy night?” She asked, her tone quite straightforward and not as playful as usual.

Harry sat next to her, hand rubbing his temple. His disheveled look must’ve given Alessandra the impression that he and Y/N had a raunchy night, although that couldn’t be further from the truth. But Harry wanted exactly that for Alessandra to think.

“I didn’t know you took a liking to her,” she moved closer to him, still focused on the açai bowl in her hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “She was fun. A sweetheart.”

“So, are you seeing her again?” she put away her açai bowl and turned to Harry, eyes never leaving his lips.

“Does that bother you, love?” Harry played along and moved closer to her too.

Alessandra rolled her eyes. She stood up and grabbed a glass of water, visibly annoyed by the whole thing.

Bingo, he thought quickly as if his hangover had suddenly dissipated. That reaction was all he needed to know exactly what he had to do.

Harry asked Y/N out again the next day, and the day after that, and soon it became daily. Y/N, of course, was getting excited with each date. She had reasons to believe that with this intensity Harry was truly interested in pursuing something with her.

They would get dinner somewhere or watch a movie or just sit by the park. And when they met, they would talk.

It was a bit strange for Y/N since Harry was still redirecting the conversations so that they would talk about Alessandra. He wanted to know what Alessandra was like when she was a kid, how she was with her parents, how she was like when she’s angry or when she’s sad—he wanted to know the Alessandra's childhood, the Alessandra that Y/N used to only stare from the garden and wished she could be her. It wasn’t the most comfortable subject but Y/N thought that perhaps because that was the only link that the two of them had, it would be easier to connect through talking about Alessandra. After all, she wanted to keep seeing Harry and if it meant narrowing their conversation subject to just Alessandra, she wouldn’t mind.

After meeting somewhere, they would always go back to Alessandra’s place, and for some reason Harry always stayed the night. Although, they had yet to do anything sexual. Sure, Harry would kiss her but he never made any further move. It was always just a peck, but it was enough for Y/N. It was more than she could ever dream of—laying in bed with the person that wanted to see her every single day. At first she was disappointed when she found that Harry was always gone in the morning, but she thought he needed to go to work and soon she got used to his weight leaving the bed in the middle of the night.

“Hey…” she trailed one night when they were in bed.

Harry mumbled a little "Hmm?"

“I know that Alessandra is the only mutual friend that we have but… is it okay if we talk about something else?” She sighed, already regretting what she said.

Harry turned to her, one arm supporting his head and the other playing with her hair. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”

She shrugged. “I guess, I really want to know… you.”

Harry smiled and started telling her trivial stuff that he would also tell reporters when doing press for his film or album. Then he gave her a peck and went out of the room after she fell asleep to find Alessandra outside, night after night, sitting on the couch with her pouty face. It really is true what people say, you always want what you can’t have.

Initially, Harry and Alessandra would just tease each other—Alessandra would bombard him with questions on what he did with Y/N while trying to pretend like she didn’t care. But soon after a couple nights of this tension, Harry would grab her by her waist and place a long kiss on her lips. And God was it magical. It was everything that Harry had dreamed of.

Soon things would escalate as Harry had hoped for. Every night after he had his ‘date’, he would find Alessandra, burning with passionate jealousy, and they would kiss and eventually make love. Harry knew that it was jealousy that drove her to want him. But he didn’t care for her lips were so sweet and soft and their bodies tangled perfectly under the sheet, and he didn’t want to let go. And of course, the mornings that he got to spend naked in bed with Alessandra was even more magical. He would run his finger on every inch of her body from head to toe with and she would press her finger on his tattoos, tracing the shapes of each one of them.

Yet every night as he laid in Y/N’s bed, talking to her, he began to feel something strange. He felt more and more comfortable with her—something that he didn’t even expect in the first place.

He found that talking to Y/N was just so easy, he never realized that before. He never intended to open up to Y/N, but here he was, talking to her about his childhood. He told her how devastated he was when he found out that his stepfather had passed or how happy he was the other day because he finally cracked a song that he thought he would never finish.

Y/N always listened to him, she rarely said anything but she would stroke his hair gently and pressed a kiss on top of his head. There was something about her and Harry just didn’t know what it was yet. All he knew was he started to long for their midnight conversation. It made him feel peaceful.

And as he opened up more and more, he learned more about her too. How she always felt insecure since she was a kid, how she felt out of place in Alessandra’s house but she had no other choice because she needed to save money before renting a place, and how hard she’d worked for her dreams. Harry began to see how special she was, how different she was from the people that he’d met in his life.

She was always so understanding and loving towards him. One time she made him a little origami bird as a good luck charm because he said he felt uneasy for his upcoming meeting. Another time, she learned to cook black pudding because he mentioned that he missed his hometown. She was always there, any time of the day, any way Harry needed her. She always put him first.

And yet, he still couldn’t stop slipping away after Y/N fell asleep to find Alessandra and her jealous pout. Alessandra didn’t even try to hide it anymore and Harry found it extremely attractive. And the fact that she wanted him really made him feel good about himself.

Perhaps because he had always wanted her for years, or perhaps because they both found this love game to be very fun. They both knew it was the latter.

Y/N thought that she and Harry were starting to get somewhere. She understood that although they saw each other almost every day the past two months, Harry was still hesitant to get intimate with her. She felt that when she moved out to her own place, Harry would feel more relaxed. Perhaps, she would finally see him by her side when she woke up in the morning. Perhaps, she wouldn't have to feel his weight leaving her bed in the middle of the night again.

But as much as she told herself that this was real but, there was something inside her telling her to run away, as far as she could from Harry. She never understood how but she just had this feeling to move away. Everything was so perfect though, she thought. What could go wrong?

That night she woke up in the middle of the night after yet another date with Harry. He wasn’t there but it was not a surprise anymore. Harry always left… for work, she always told herself.

She wobbled her way out of bed to go to the bathroom, but when she stood by the door, she heard Harry and Alessandra’s voices. She knew she could just walk past them and head to the bathroom, but somehow she just couldn’t move. That something inside her told her to stay and wait.

“Is she good?” Alessandra asked.

“What do you mean, love?” Harry asked.

Y/N gulped. He sounded way flirtier than he ever was with her, but she tried to not think negatively.

“You know what I mean…”

Y/N could hear a pause and a little moan. She shut her eyes and shook her head, hoping that it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“Why are you like this?” Harry asked playfully. “You were never like this when I dated those models…”

“Yeah, because I know we’re on the same level,” she giggled. “I mean, she is practically… a nobody. How could you even be attracted to her more than me? It’s driving me crazy.”

“If ‘m ever attracted to her, why am I here with you now, love?”

Y/N choked. For a moment she couldn’t feel her limbs. There was a loud ringing noise in her ears, as if her brain had decided to shut off the whole noise to protect her heart.

She took a deep breath and counted to three before slowly opening the door. She just wanted to… see.

She didn’t realize tears that already rolled down her face when she peeked through the small opening, the sight that made her so sick she could barely stand. There, on the couch, Alessandra was full on straddling Harry. Laughter and moans mixed in the air and Y/N was just there, staring and not even able to comprehend what was going on.

One moment Harry was so eager to see her. Every single day he would ask to meet her. Every single day he would lay in bed, and tell her his deepest desires. And yet here he was, hands roaming Alessandra’s body. Y/N couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

Was it all just a game? Did he ever really like her? Did he just use her to make Alessandra jealous?

He did, didn't he? The voice in her head just grew louder. No wonder he never touched you, no wonder he always left in the middle of the night, no wonder he never cared as much as you did.

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes moved towards Y/N’s direction. His eyes were wide open when he locked eyes with Y/N’s.

He almost jumped as he ran towards Y/N but Y/N was quick to close the door and lock it.

Y/N walked to the bed and laid there, eyes locked on the ceiling as the sound of Harry’s loud banging on the door and Alessandra’s repeated ‘Harry, what’s wrong?’ filled the air.

Y/N didn’t even cry anymore, she just laid there, looking at one single imaginary dot in the ceiling. Maybe if she concentrated enough, she would be able to turn back the time and said no to Harry in the first place. Or maybe if she concentrated enough, she would be beautiful and attractive that Harry would want her just as much as he wanted Alessandra.

“Why do you care anyway? I thought it was part of the game,” Alessandra said after Harry stopped banging on the door.

He looked at Alessandra, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief of what she just said, “Game? Alessandra, that’s your friend…”

Alessandra looked at him in shock. “Are you kidding me? Harry, you started this.”

Harry knew she was right. Even when he never planned it, he knew that he had been using Y/N. The game that he was playing was out of line and hurtful. Deep down he knew it was, yet he didn’t want to stop. He was so caught up with the thought of having Alessandra that he forgot about Y/N and how far he had led her on.

But more than that, the sight of Y/N peeking through the door with tears down her face, not even saying anything to stop him, just broke his heart. He knew it took so much out of her to admit to him about her insecurities, and to witness the person that she grew to trust betray her… Harry pressed his hands to his forehead, regrets and shame filled his mind.

After that, he went on autopilot. He could hear Alessandra’s voice kicking him out but he didn't even bother to respond so he just left.

Now that Y/N had learned the truth, he couldn’t seem to care about Alessandra anymore. He just wanted to talk to Y/N again. He wanted to apologize to her. He wanted to see her.

He still couldn’t believe himself. He had stolen her first kiss when he was drunk, and her first trust, yet he had the nerves to continue his game just to get Alessandra. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember other qualities other than physicality that he found attractive from Alessandra. They never talked about anything, all they did was just flirt and mess around and make each other jealous. It really was just a game. How did he even want her in the first place?

Y/N was so kind and gentle with him, she listened to him. She cared for him. He gritted his teeth knowing he fucked up big time.

After shower, Harry rushed to Alessandra’s. He needed to talk to Y/N.

When Harry arrived, Alessandra was there. She was back to her bubbly self. She said something about waiting for Harry’s apology but Harry only shook his head in disbelief. Apology for what? For stopping our fucked up sex? He grunted.

Alessandra opened her mouth in disbelief as Harry barged in the house and went to Y/N’s bedroom. He rushingly opened the door.

Unlocked. Great, he was relieved.

But then, he walked into the room to see it empty, as if no one was ever there in the first place. He paced around the room, looking for a trace of Y/N but nothing was there. Nothing at all.

It’s as if Y/N had purposefully erased herself from Alessandra’s house… and Harry’s life. Alessandra looked inside as well only to have just realized the same thing.

As Harry ran to his car, he kept on dialing Y/N’s number but the only message that he got was the fact that the number was no longer active.

Harry didn’t know what else to do. He started driving, to where he didn’t know. But he had to keep searching because he just wanted Y/N back in his world.

#harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #tinayoufatlarrdd

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years ago

Text

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #tinayoufatlarrdd #harry styles fanfic

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