ava ࣪𖦹.˚

࣪𖦹·.˚ WHO I WILL WRITE FOR!

i will write for harry styles, braeden lemasters, and louis tomlinson!

^ i will be adding to this, so if you want me to write for someone who isn’t on this list, just ask and i might do it!!

࣪𖦹·.˚ WHAT I WILL WRITE!

i will write oneshots, blurbs, series, headcanons, and text blurbs!

࣪𖦹·.˚ REQUESTS!

for requests, send it in my inbox titled ‘talk to me’ and be sure to include:

who you want it to be about

plot/idea/song it’s based on

what type of writing you want it to be (oneshot, series, headcanons, text blurbs)

specific era?

any extra details you may want to add!

“Hi, sweetheart.” Harry’s face brightened the second he saw your face on his phone screen. Given the time difference between you two, it’s difficult to find the right time to talk, so you barely do anymore.

Of course, you’ll text him anytime you can, but he’s almost always either sleeping or on stage, so he can’t respond until later, and you’re typically sleeping by then.

Going from seeing each other everyday to this has been extremely difficult for the both of you. You have been staying up later just to talk to him, and he’s been waking up earlier. Even then, it’s still hard for him to even talk to other people without feeling guilty for building relationships with others while leaving you at home.

Your expression mirrors his, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He can’t help but notice how your eyes don’t have as much of the light they used to carry. You look sad, and it breaks his heart.

He hears your soft, tired voice from the other side of the phone. “Hi, Harry.”

“What are you doing up?” He asked, his voice softer than it’s been the entire night, though slightly raspy from singing earlier that night, and every night for the last few weeks.

“I was waiting for you to get off stage. I watched a live stream so I could call you as soon as possible.” You say with a small laugh at the end, which he knows was only added to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it is.

You shouldn’t have to ruin your sleep schedule just to be able to talk to your boyfriend of two years. He should be home with you, not on another continent. He wouldn’t blame you if you decided you couldn’t do this anymore, and left him.

Not a moment goes by that he’s not thinking about you getting tired of this and finding someone new. Someone who you don’t have to worry about leaving you alone for months to tour, someone who you won’t have to stay up all night just to have a quick conversation with.

He decides to change the subject. “I just saw those pictures you posted on Instagram earlier. You looked beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say, a real smile finally breaking through. It’s a small thing, but it helps him a bit. “I was hoping you’d see them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, and it’s a sound you’ve missed. “Of course I did. You know I check your profile any chance I get.” He teased, before he speaks again, his tone more serious. “Y/N, are you alright? You seem tired, baby.”

You sigh, the small bit of energy you had managed to gather quickly dissipating. “I’m okay, Harry. Just… really missing you. And I’m a little tired, I guess.” You try to keep your voice light, but you can hear the tremor in it, and you know he can too.

He frowns, his eyes searching yours through the screen. “I miss you too, love. More than you know.” He pauses, and you can see the conflict in his expression. “This isn’t fair to you. I hate that you have to do this.”

"It's okay," you say quickly, trying to reassure him, and yourself. "I know it's not ideal, but we'll get through it. We always do." You try to project confidence, but inside, you're just as unsure as he is.

He shakes his head slightly. "But should you have to, Y/N? Should you have to sacrifice your sleep and your peace just to talk to me for a few minutes?" His voice is low, filled with a sadness that mirrors your own. "I feel like I'm asking too much of you."

“You’re not, Harry.” You shake your head, rubbing your tired eyes. “Let’s not do this right now, okay? It’s late.” You check the time on the clock beside you, and it reads 3:26 AM. You sigh and turn back to your phone.

“I know. I know. Get some rest, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Harry forces a small smile. “I love you.”

“Okay. I love you too.” You say tiredly. “Goodnight, H.” You hang up before he can respond.

He lets out a breath and sets his phone down, sitting up in the bed. He looks around his dark hotel room, feeling nothing but loneliness. He misses you so much.

And once again, he’s worried about you leaving him one day.

He picks up his phone again, scrolling through his gallery until he finds a picture of you two laughing on a beach, the sun setting behind you. He stares your face on the screen, a pang of longing hitting him. He knows this isn't sustainable, this constant worry and the distance that stretches between you. He just doesn't know how to fix it right now.

He tosses and turns for a while, the image of your tired eyes haunting him. Sleep doesn't come easily. He thinks about the upcoming months, the endless string of cities, and the gnawing feeling of being so far away from the one person he truly wants to be with. He wishes he could just teleport home, even for a few hours, just to hold you and reassure himself that you're real and still there. That you still love him and want him.

Eventually, exhaustion wins, and he drifts off, but even in his dreams, the distance feels palpable. He wakes up feeling just as heavy-hearted as when he went to sleep, the memory of your sad smile still fresh in his mind. The tour, which once felt like an exhilarating adventure, now feels like a relentless march away from everything he loves.

He grabs his phone, quickly typing out a message to his manager.

I need to talk to you about the schedule. There has to be a way to make this work so I can see Y/N, even just for a few days.

He knows it's a long shot, but he has to try. He can't keep living like this, and he definitely can't ask you to take a few days off of school just to visit him. The thought of losing you is a constant ache, a fear that overshadows even the roar of the crowd.

He closes his eyes, picturing your face, and a silent promise forms in his mind: he'll find a way to get back to you, no matter what it takes.

The cafe smelled like coffee and fresh pastries when you stepped in. You could hear the sound of dishes clinking together and chattering from other customers as you took a seat at one of the tables near the back, trying to calm your nerves.

Today was your first date with Harry. He had first asked you out about a week ago, and today was the earliest day you both were free, so you decided to meet up at this cafe for lunch.

Saying you were nervous was an understatement. You and Harry met through a mutual friend at a dinner party a few weeks ago, which was where he asked for your number, and then he finally asked you out after two or so weeks of just texting everyday.

He told you to meet him at the cafe at 1:00, it was currently 12:57, so you still had a few minutes before he showed up. You got your phone out and scrolled through instagram, waiting for him to arrive.

When the door to the cafe opens, and you hear the bell above it ring, you look up, and smile when you see him. He’s dressed in a cozy light brown sweater and jeans.

His face lit up when he spotted you. As he walked over to the table, you stood up to greet him. “Hi,” you say quietly as you wrap your arms around him.

“Hi, Y/N. You look nice.” He says, returning the hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

You blush and thank him quietly as you both sit down across from each other. You both figure out what you want to order and then just chat for a minute before the waitress comes up to you and takes your order.

As you wait on your coffee and bagel, you and Harry continue to chat, the initial nervousness slowly fading away. You find yourselves laughing easily, sharing stories about your week, and discovering more about each other's interests. He tells you about a new band he's been listening to, and you share your excitement about a book you just finished. The conversation flows effortlessly, making the wait for your food seem much shorter. When the waitress finally brings your orders, you both thank her and dive into your meals, still punctuating bites with smiles and continued conversation.

When you both finish your food and coffee, you decide to go on a walk to continue talking. Harry doesn’t even let you think about paying. He immediately gets his card out and pays.

As you two are leaving the cafe, he holds the door open for you, and then stays close to your side the whole time. After walking around for maybe ten minutes, you two find a bench and sit down.

As you settled into the bench, a comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the distant sounds of the city around you. Harry turns to you, a small smile still on his face, that has been there since he first walked in the cafe. “So, this has been really nice,” he says, his voice soft. You nod, returning his smile. “It really has. I had a great time.”

He looks at you, his eyes twinkling. “I was thinking,” he starts, “since we’re both having such a good time, maybe we could do this again sometime soon? Like, later this week, maybe? If you’re free?” You couldn’t help but notice that he seemed nervous, but you also see the hint of hopefulness in his eyes, and it makes you smile.

“I’d love that, Harry.” you reply.

A wave of relief washes over his face, and his smile widens. “Awesome,” he says, “how about we figure out a day that works for both of us?” You agree, feeling a flutter of excitement.

“Does Friday evening work?” He asks. “There’s this new Italian place I’ve been wanting to try, and I hear their pasta is amazing.” You consider it for a moment, and then nod. “Friday is perfect.” you say, “I love Italian food.”

His smile grows even wider, and he seems pleased. “Great. Well, we’ve already been here for nearly two hours, you are probably wanting to get back home. I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands up, and you follow.

As you both start walking, Harry glances at you. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day, Y/N?” he asks, his tone casual. “Anything exciting? Maybe a book you’re starting?” You appreciate his thoughtfulness, making sure you’re not just rushing off, and remembering the things you tell him. The air is crisp and the leaves are falling around you two as you respond.

“Actually,” you say, “I was planning on starting this new book that I just got the other day. It’s a horror, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips. There’s a short breeze that makes you pull your sweater a little tighter.

Harry notices. Of course he does.

He rests his hand on your back, rubbing it up and down. “You cold?” He asked, pulling you into his side.

“Just a little,” you murmur, leaning into his warmth. His touch is comforting, and the subtle scent of his cologne is pleasant. “Thanks,” you add quietly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. You appreciate his attentiveness, and it makes the walk feel even nicer.

Before you know it, you guys are standing beside your car, preparing to say goodbye.

“Well-”

“I h-”

Both of you burst into laughter when you started talking at the same time. Harry lets you go first.

“I was just gonna say that I had a great time. And thank you for today.”

“I had a really great time, too.” Harry says, his smile warm. “And I’m happy you enjoyed it. I’m really looking forward to Friday.” He pulls you in for a gentle hug, and you lean into him. As you pull away, he hesitates before he plants a soft kiss to your forehead. “Drive safe, okay?” He whispers, brushing your hair out of your face.

You just nod, too flustered to speak.

He grins when he notices your reaction. “Good,” he says softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll text you later.” He gives your hand a squeeze before turning and heading back to his own car, leaving you standing there with a big, goofy smile and a warm blush on your face.

The drive home was a little lighter, the nerves you had on the way to the cafe completely gone, instead replaced with excitement for Friday.

You hum along to the radio, a soft, content sound. The world outside your car window seems to reflect your mood, the streetlights shining a little brighter, the passing houses looking a little cozier. You can't help but look forward to everything Harry has planned for Friday. Pulling into your driveway, you realize you're still smiling.