#which is good bc like jumper needs that since she is Terrified Of Being Dropped Always

[mcytegg]

i just realized that rek is the strong teammate in the sticklers . like he has 15? 16? hearts atm, hes very rich in items always, and hes actually decent at pvp— he'd be even better if he locked in as well, he just chooses not to focus on pvp

[elliewritessometimes]

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh 

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

-

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

-

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

-

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

-

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler  

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

-

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

-

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

-

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

[dont-cry2020]

“Guess You’re a Celebrity Now, Huh?”

Harry Styles X Reader

//inspired by an idea given to me by the wonderful @peter-andthelostboys//

//What happens when there’s a new girl at an arts college? Well, she receives anonymous portraits shoved under her door, that the notorious Harry Styles may have something to do with//

//Fluff and angst//

//this definitely isn’t my best work but I haven’t been feeling super motivated lately, so thank you for your patience. i might try and rewrite this another time bc i really love the idea//

Harry loved to draw. It was his passion. 

He was quite good at it, too, so it was really no surprise to his friends and family when he got accepted to art school in Los Angeles. 

It’s a scary thing to move all the way across the world, let alone by yourself, but Harry adjusted quickly, enjoying the warm climate that was so different from the UK.

You, on the other hand, were feeling quite lost after high school. Your parents pushed you into medical program after medical program, determined that you were going to ‘make the family proud’ and ‘become rich and smart.’

For starters, you could care less about being rich, but you decided to humor your parents by going to medical school. Yeah, it was hard. 

So incredibly hard.

So hard, in fact, that you could count the panic attacks and all nighters you pulled on two hands. 

However, you found in yourself a passion for music; whether that was writing music or playing guitar or singing, it made you feel whole. Something that medicine and doctorates degrees could never. 

As Junior year began and the weather got crisper and the air constantly smelled like cinnamon and spice, you started to feel lonely on top of the stress. Sure, you had your friends, really good friends at that, but that wasn’t the problem. You longed for someone to love, someone to hold you and help you through your ups and downs and someone for you to help through their ups and downs. But, you knew that you couldn’t handle a relationship right now, for Christ’s sake you were studying to be a goddamn doctor!

You had a boyfriend freshman year. He was kind, smart, and, much to your parent’s approval, was studying to become a pediatrician. 

But you weren’t happy. 

It was always about school and homework; never parties or holidays or even intimacy. So, you ended it, and as junior year is upon you, you haven’t had a boyfriend since. 

Your girlfriends noticed that you were lonely, so they spent their time setting you up with hot college medical students to which you indulged in, and it was fun, sure, but you still weren’t happy. 

So you did the one thing that your parents never forgave you for.

You dropped out.

You dropped out of medical school and transferred to an arts college, one that you had your eye on since freshman year, and one that was about as far away from home as you could possibly go. 

You didn’t tell your mom or dad, didn’t tell them because you already knew what they were going to say. 

“You’re ruining your future!”

“You have no chance of getting a job now!” 

They hadn’t stopped since they found out from your brother, wondering why such a smart girl would become an art student. They didn’t even know you liked art. 

You were sad to leave your friends, sure, who wouldn’t be? You loved them, but you all understood that it was for the best. You had a dream, and you were going to chase it. They stood at the gates of the airport, waving and crying and hugging you as you boarded the plane from London to LAX. 

“Here we go.”

...

Art school was weird.

There were no snobby students with 4.0 GPA’s to wave in your face, no professors that thought they were better than everyone else or classes that you dreaded going to. 

It was actually fun. Who knew that college could be fun, right?

Moving into your dorm was terrifying. You didn’t know where to go or who your roommate was going to be, and despite your previous experiences, it was already half way through the first semester, and every one else had their chances to collect their bearings. Luckily for you, you got your own room because everyone else had already moved in and had roommates.

...

Rumor had spread throughout campus that a new girl had moved in. 

“Apparently she’s English,” or “she transferred from medical school” or “she’s a music major” were all things that Harry heard walking down the halls of his dorm and through the lawn and in classes.

It seems like this new student was all anyone ever talked about. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued, for he was English too, and curious at that, but he was an art student and you were a music student, so he never saw you around, and none of his friends had ever met you either. 

As February rolled by, you had found that you adjusted quite nicely, making a few close friends and acquainting yourself with new faces. 

The weather was probably your favorite part about this school. Back home, you would never even dream of studying outside on the lawn in the middle of the winter, but here you are, sitting in a circle with a few of your friends, talking and laughing about music and strumming your guitar. 

Harry had his headphones in walking home from class. He was tired and he really just wanted a quick nap. It was Tuesday afternoon and the sun was shining, so there were tons of people on the lawn. It wasn’t a new thing for people to be playing instruments or singing when it was nice outside, so he didn’t bat an eye when he heard strumming of a familiar song. 

But his eyes widened when he heard an accented voice that matched his own. His eyes followed a group of students, most he had seen before, but he didn’t recognize the girl with the English accent. 

She must be the new girl. 

Harry convinced himself that he didn’t want to go back to his dorm to work on his art, but it was such a beautiful day that he would sit on the lawn and sketch his little heart out. 

He found himself staring at the girl, memorizing every freckle and curve of her face, quickly looking at his lap when you caught his eye, feeling like you were being watched. 

“Who’s that?” you asked your friends, pointing at the boy sitting by himself, nose buried in his sketch book.

“That,” Jack said, eyes widening, “is Harry Styles. Probably the hottest guy on campus.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Jack’s just mad because he’s not into guys. He’s British like you, ya know.”

“He is hot,” you say, looking over at the boy with curly brown hair and tattoos littering his arms. “I should introduce myself.”

“Yes girl, get it!” Jack cheers. Rolling your eyes, you walk over to him. 

“Can I sit?” you ask, looking down at Harry. He looks up at you eyes widening, scrambling to close the sketchbook that was full of drawings of you. He couldn’t help it, you were just so gorgeous. He nods his head slowly, eyeing you up a bit. 

“‘M y/n,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Harry,” he says, engulfing your hand in his large tattooed one. His rings catch your eye, reflecting the light and making him look that much more intimidating. “You’re English,” he remarks, not asking, but rather telling as if you didn’t already know. 

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, his stare making you slightly uncomfortable. 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Jus’ never seen you around here.”

“‘M new. Transferred last semester.”

Harry was interesting. He was funny, sweet, but a little reserved and intimidating, too. He was an art student that looked like he was the lead singer of a rock band. He dressed in dark jeans and jumpers and wore necklaces and rings. Never what you would have expected to be attracted to, being an ex-medical student and all. But, despite your doubts, you found him very appealing. 

The conversation ended when he had to get to class, so you bid him farewell and returned to your group of friends, egging you on for every detail of your previous conversation. 

...

The week finally rolled along to Friday, and you were set to go to bed early and watch netflix alone, in proper need of some me time. Your friends, however had other ideas when they barged into your dorm with a bottle of wine and the skimpiest dress they could find. 

“Come on, y/n, please!” Jack begged you, walking to your closest and rifling through your clothes in the most extra way possible. He pulls out a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. “All of your clothes make you look like a prude, so you’re wearing this.”

“Hey!” you say, snatching the undergarments from him and shoving them back into your drawer. “I’m so spent tonight, I really don’t feel like going out.”

“But,” Margot says, pulling your makeup out from your desk, “a certain British boy will be there.”

Suddenly all parts of you that were fatigued and not wanting to go to a party change their direction and you’re snatching the dress from Jack’s hold and going to the bathroom. 

“Forgot something, sweetie,” he teases, throwing the lacy underwear at you. 

You looked hot. You weren’t gonna lie. The black velvet dress clung to all your curves and stopped right above your knees, scrunching up on the sides with little ties. Your hair was curled and eyeliner sharp, and you honestly felt a little overdressed for a little college house party. Little did you know, LA art students don’t mess around at house parties. 

To say that heads didn’t turn when you walked in the room would be a complete lie. All eyes were on the new girl, including a familiar pair of sparkling green ones.

Harry was intrigued, to say the least, watching the new girl dance around the house, nursing a drink and laughing with her friends. He wasn’t much of a party guy himself; he had a lot of friends, sure, but he preferred just to stay home or have small get togethers with them. 

He felt himself being drawn to you, sliding in between grinding bodies and swaying slightly to the music as he neared your own dancing body. 

“D’you wanna dance with me?” Hot breath fans over the back of your neck, goosebumps erupting over your skin. Spinning on your heels, you weren’t all too surprised when you were face to face with the only other Brit in the room. His gaze flickered across your face, brow furrowed and concentrated as he set his hands on your hips. You threw your own arms around his neck giggling to yourself as you saw Harry smile for the first time since you met him. His perfect white teeth had butterflies erupting in your belly.

You danced for a while longer, all the alcohol you had consumed earlier finally catching up to you. Giggling as you lose your balance, Harry catches you, holding you still before smashing his lips to yours. 

Mere seconds felt like hours as his lips touched yours. You barely knew the guy, but for some reason it felt like the best kiss of your life. Yet, somehow, you knew you wouldn’t remember it in the morning, so you focused on the present and how he made you feel. 

He made you feel good.

It felt like nothing you had ever felt before, sparks flying and hearts pounding and every other phrase used to describe something completely and utterly amazing. You got lost in his lips, memorizing every inch. 

You pulled away, not completely unaware of the lust in the curly haired man’s green eyes. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you tell him over the booming music, slipping out of his arms and entering the much quieter but still noisy kitchen. 

“Y/n! Where’d you go earlier?” Margot questioned, smirking at the lipstick smudged across your face. 

“Jus’ dancing,” you slur, getting yourself another cup of whatever alcohol was on the counter.

“Mhmm,” she says, knowingly raising her eyebrows and taking your cup, replacing it with a bottle of water. “Think you’re done.” You groan, begrudgingly taking a sip out of the bottle, your body silently thanking you for ending it’s torture. 

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but as soon as you left him, he was being dragged onto the dance floor by some girl, he wasn’t sure who, and was being grinded on and made out with. 

“Y/n,” Jack said, tugging Margot by the arm, eyes widening “do you want to head back to your dorm now? We know parties aren’t really your thing.”

“What! I’m having so much fun!” you sway on your heels, trying not to fall down. “Why do we have to leave I-” your heart dropped in your chest.

Harry’s tongue was dancing with some random girl’s, not even five minutes after he had kissed you. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, maybe you shouldn’t have been so attached to a man that you had just met and just kissed once, maybe you were drunk, but you didn’t care. It felt like your world was crashing down. 

You ran as fast as your bare feet could carry you, Jack and Margot chasing you, yelling at you to slow down, but you didn’t listen. 

Harry saw you run out of the party, pushing the girl sucking his face off and palming him through his jeans away. He thought that maybe he should go after you, but he didn’t feel like it’d be welcome. He ran his hands through his hair, eventually following your lead and leaving the party to head back to his own dorm. 

Your feet carried you all the way to your room, unlocking it and throwing yourself on the bed, mascara tears staining your pillow case. 

“Hun,” Jack says, petting your hair and pulling it back into a pony tail. “Don’t worry about this prick. He’s not worth your time.”

The rest of the night was spent with Jack and Margot holding back your hair as you threw up what seemed to be everything you’ve eaten in the past two weeks, and you crying about you didn’t even remember what anymore. 

Harry tried to sleep that night, still buzzed and tired from the party and the previous week, but he couldn’t seem to rest his racing mind. He got out of bed, only clad in a pair of boxers, and went to his desk, pulling out his sketch pad and getting to work. He drew line after line and shadow after shadow, constructing a piece that he felt genuinely proud of, something he hasn’t felt in what seemed like ages. He knew that it needed to be seen. 

...

Your head was pounding. Absolutely hammering in your head. Jack and Margot were passed out on the floor, blankets and pillows and water bottles littered the bedroom and after seeing the stains on your pillow, you really didn’t want to look in the mirror. However, you eventually had to get out of bed, throwing the covers off your bare legs and sluggishly walking into the bathroom. The best part about transferring in the middle of the year, you found, was that you didn’t have a roommate to share the bathroom with, or someone that would see you like this. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered, taking in the reflection looking back at you. Your cheeks were tear-stained with black streaks of mascara, your hair was matted and had chunks of something you hoped was not throw up in it. Not to mention that you were still wearing your dress from last night, except now it was bunched around your torso like a tight potato sack. 

You stripped, throwing your clothes onto the floor and getting into the shower. The hot water cascaded down your head, wetting your hair and face and washing all of the regret away. You were in the heavenly water for a good long time, fingers starting to prune up from the steam and liquid. 

Walking back into your room, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Jack and Margot had left a note on your bed, saying that they went to get breakfast and would be back soon. You thanked God that it was Saturday and you didn’t have any classes. 

You immediately got back into bed after you dried off, pulling the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes, hoping to calm the pounding in your head just a little bit. That’s why, when there was a quiet knock on the door, you didn’t get up immediately, thinking that it was just a courtesy knock from Jack and Margot before they barged in with food. But when that didn’t come and the hallway quieted, you rolled yourself off the bed, grumbling to yourself and opening the door. 

“Hello?” you say to no one in particular, seeing as there was no one on the other side of the door. You looked around, peeking your head into the deserted hallway, before finally looking down and seeing one of those big orange manila envelopes. You figured it was something from the front desk or maybe a letter from your mom telling you how you were making a mistake, but bizarrely enough, there was no address or even name. You took one more look around the hall before going back into your room and shutting the door behind you. 

Curiously, you picked open the envelope with your fingernails, carefully ripping the paper. You pulled out the paper inside the envelope. 

Shocked was an understatement to how you were feeling. A gorgeous portrait of lines and shapes that created none other than your face. It was a little chilling, knowing that someone has been examining your face and features so closely, but also because there was no name or address...not even a note. 

“What’s that?” Jack asks, barging into the door, arms full of muffins. He throws you one, sitting down on the bed next to you and examining the paper in your lap. 

“Someone left it at my door, but there’s no note or name or anything,” you say quietly, eyes scanning the picture. “That’s weird, right?” 

“Ooh,” Margot says. “Somebody’s got a secret admirer!”

“More like a stalker,” Jack remarks, tracing the paper with his fingers. “Who do you think would do this?” 

You honestly had no clue. The only visual arts student you knew was...no. 

“Harry!” Jack says. “It has to be Harry!”

“There’s no way in hell it’s Harry,” you remark, slipping the paper back into it’s envelope and placing it onto your desk, changing the subject to the events of the previous night.

...

A few weeks later, Harry found himself drawing constantly; whether it was small sketches or bigger works, they all had one common factor; they were of the same woman he couldn’t get out of his head. 

You, on the other hand, had received quite a few more drawings stuck under your door. At first, you weren’t all that phased, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that you didn’t know who was doing this. 

Margot had called it a ‘secret admirer’ but you weren’t quite sure whether it was that, or a stalker. Sure, it was sweet and all the drawings were beautiful, but how did said person find out where your room was? Or how did they know when to put the drawings by your door so they could have enough time to leave? 

Jack had suggested that you sit by the door until there’s a knock, so one night, you settled by the door, rather impatiently waiting. 

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Still nothing. 

Feeling your eyes get heavy, you let yourself go, falling limp against the door and succumbing to a deep sleep, so when you were startled awake from a knock on the wooden door, you weren’t able to register what had happened fast enough.

Sure enough, when the door swung open there was another envelope, just like all the other ones you had received, except this time, something caught your eye. 

There was a date and a time scribbled in messy handwriting: 7 PM, 2/23. 

Your brow furrowed, staring at the information written on the paper, eventually pulling our your phone and sending a picture to your friends. 

what does this mean ? you wrote, referring to the information you had received.

OMG! that’s the art show tomorrow! jack responded

you have to go now! Margot sent

You were a little creeped out to tell the truth, but you wanted nothing more than to find who the mystery artist was, and why they wanted you to go to the art show. 

It was no surprise when Jack and Margot barged into your dorm the next day, rifling through your closet and styling you. 

“It’s a goddamn art show, not a party,” you said as Jack pulled out another frumpy dress that he probably made you buy. 

“Okay, and?” he asked, fluttering his lashes that were honestly far longer than you could ever get yours.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of the art hall, hair and makeup done, looking nervously around the exhibits that other students had created. They were all really beautiful, but you found yourself being drawn to one in particular . 

A large oil painting of a girl with y/e/c and y/h/c laughing with a guitar in her hands was standing at the center of the room on an easel. The sky was painted with deep purples and blues and pinks and you couldn’t help but gape at the blending of colors. Something about the painting was familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Mr. Styles, is this the model you used for this gorgeous work?” 

“Er... Yes, actually.”

You stop in your tracks, glancing up at the painting one more time and then turning towards the voices. Harry. 

Harry painted this. And it was a painting of you. 

You opened your mouth to say something, closing it after nothing came out. 

“You-?” you whispered, still awestruck from the fact that Harry was the artist. 

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and giving you a shy smile.

“And the drawings?”

He nods his head. 

You stand there in awkward silence for a moment before he motions for you to come follow him. Your steps fall in place behind his as he leads you outside into the cool February air. 

“I thought I should explain...” he says, ruffling his hair but not looking at you. “Tha’ night, at the party,” he starts, pausing for a moment to gather his words. “When I kissed ya... I felt something. And I know you did too... and then tha’ girl, whashername?”

You just shrugged your shoulders, slightly amused by the crease formed in the man’s forehead. 

“Anyways,” he continues, “doesn’t matter. But when she kissed me and I saw you run out, and she kissed me,” he emphasizes the last part, widening his eyes and you just shake your head, lips curling up into a smile. “An’ I was gonna run after you but I didn’t think I’d be welcome... so I knew I needed to make it up to you... and after I met you on the lawn I couldn’t get the image of you laughing with your friends outta my head and I just knew I had to draw you and-” he continues to ramble on, but you just shush him, gripping your shirt in your fists and pressing your lips to his. 

He trips slighty but you hold him into place by the fabric of his shirt, his hands eventually sliding onto the small of your back. 

“D’ya wanna go out with me?” he asks as you pull away, his eyes glimmering in the sunset as you both catch your breaths. 

“Yes,” you say, laughing slightly. “I do.”

Harry called you a few days later, asking if you wanted to go get coffee at a shop that he went to often. You obliged, saying that you would love to, ‘forgetting’ to tell your two best friends so they would leave you be to get ready. 

You were excited; it was your first real date with Harry, and you liked him a lot. You had chemistry and it was clear as water to anyone who saw. 

Walking into the coffee shop and looking around, Harry’s arm waving at you caught your eye. He gave you a warm smile, gesturing to sit at the seat across from him. 

“Hey,” you say, greeting him. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling your chair out for you before sitting down in his own seat. “I ordered you a latte. I hope that’s okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling the coffee to your lips, choking on it at the sight of a certain painting hanging on the wall. 

“Har- that’s- that’s your painting!” you tell him. He only smirks and nods his head. 

“’S on display,” he says, resting his head on his hand. “Thought everyone should have the pleasure of looking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blush, taking another sip of your latte, before a little kid comes up to you, chocolate smudged across his face. 

“Is that you?” he says, pointing a chubby finger at the picture. You chuckle. 

“Yeah, actually, it is.” you say, smiling at his mom as she apologetically takes her boy by the hand. 

“Guess you’re a celebrity now, huh?” Harry says. 

“You made me famous,” you tell him, grinning at the green eyed boy in front of you.

[jemmo]

‘get to know me’ tag game

rules: answer the questions and tag people you’d like to get to know better.

i was tagged by @ena-noya11 and yes this is old but ive been busy with uni and am not gonna miss a chance to rant about myself. but i wont tag anyone, just if you see this do it bc wtf not???

What do you perfer to be called name-wise?

jess, always jess. i cant remember the last time anyone called me jessica. although some people do call me moon which is cute

When is your birthday?

september 23rd

Where do you live?

im as british as they come

Three things you are doing right now:

let me see...im procrastinating from doing my dry lab work bc i cant go back into labs, im listening to my lovely new side m boys (rn its infinite possibilities by s.e.m, who lowkey may be my faves) and im knitting a jumper

Four fandoms that have piqued your interest?

1. atm defo hypmic. cant wait for the 3rd drb release to drop, in need hq black journey

2. also defo defo sk8 i really cant get enough of these skateboard gays, and ive ventured into ao3 and i dont regret it at all 

3. again, idolmaster side m (can you tell i like the 2d idols) i just binged the anime after finishing a uni project and the music is absolute fire i would sell my soul for all of them

4. i hate to say it but the promised neverland, bc the first season was so good and now ive picked up the manga, and personally every single situation ive headcannoned is better than what this season is giving me

How has the pandemic been treating you?

idk really?? like day to day it doesn’t feel that bad, but i feel like it isn’t helping me at all. this is my 4th year of uni which was supposed to be very lab heavy which hasn’t happened, and being away has really dropped my confidence in being able to actually do science. and as a shy person it’s just giving me an excuse to be distant and keep to myself which isn’t good bc i know i need to make an effort to be social. but at least ive been able to spend lots of time with my family which is great bc 3 years of uni has really taught me how much i miss them when im away

but it gave me the perfect opportunity to get into anime which is great bc as a person that in the past hyperfixates and jumps between fandoms, something tells me this is gonna stick

A song you can’t stop listening to right now?

KAIGEN by badass temple. no joke it slaps. as of rn i want them to win the drb, just bc of how hard that song goes

How old are you?

22. fuck im 22, 23 this year. it feels like i only just turned 18, how am i supposed to be an adult now

School, univerisity, occupation, other?

uni, im in my 4th masters year doing biochem (and genetics), although all im studying this year is plants plants plants 

Do you prefer heat or cold?

cold. defo cold. i dont mind the summer but ever since i got heatstroke a couple of years ago in a very very hot paris, ive been scarred

Name one fact others may not know about you.

i love love love watching costube, it is my gig. id love to be able to sew properly and make my own clothes

Are you shy?

definately. unless you are my family, i dont know how to act around you

Pronouns?

she/her

Biggest pet peeves?

people just not being concious of the fact that the world exists kinda?? like people that are just too preocupied with themselves. like its not that hard to just do a helpful job for someone. and you can be completely selfish about it, bc itll make you feel good to help someone else. just be nice.

What is your favorite “dere” type?

lol lowkey i love a bakadere, but only if theyre done well

Rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be.

probably 8, maybe even a 9. i have the best family, and im doing well at uni. i can just hang out, watch anime, do some work, do some crochet or knitting. i have lots of stuff to so and that i want to do which always feels great. but im also right at that turning point where im about to leave uni and have to figure out what my life is gonna be like which is terrifying, and im also at that point where i feel like my entire life revolves around uni work which kinda sucks bc theres other stuff i want to do, like learn to sew, or learn a language, that i just dont have time for. but honestly, i wouldnt have it any other way

What’s your main blog?

youre on it

List your side blogs and what they’re used for.

none. i dont have time or the mental capacity to cope with side blogs. this is just the mess of content and stream of concious rants you get

Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends?

i SUCK at communicating. like i actively dislike communicating unless it is a 1 on 1 face to face conversation. so if i dont message you, it doesnt mean i hate you. i just suck at keeping in contact with people, and am working on it. so please just talk to me, bc ill never not want to talk

lol if you got to the end thanks and see ya