MA' SQUAD FANFICS™

This is a masterlist to all the writing i’ve been posting ever since (New York, lol) I joined Tumblr. It’ll be updated every time I post a new imagine.

Hope you like it. xx

(Each section goes from the oldest to the most recent work)

HARRY STYLES:

1.  A sweet evening.

2.  Mixed dates.

3.  Cold days.

4.   Promise (Part one).

5.  Promise (Part two). (requested)

6.  Beautiful.

7.  Daddy’s treasures.

8.  Dreams do come true.

9.  in our hearts.

10.  Hideaway.

11. I won.

12. Hearts don’t break around here.

13.  For your eyes only.

14. Mornings.

- Series:

DARKNESS  Part 2

Where Harry is drown in sorrow.

- Blurbs:

#1. “Let me kiss you”

#2. Two hearts in one home.

#3. Where you fall asleep in Harry’s arms.

- Concept Nights:

#1. He hears you sing in the shower. (fluff)

#2. He breaks in front of you. (angst)

#3. You both star in the cover of a magazine. (fluff)

#4. You watch your wedding video for the first time. (fluff)

#5. You go for a walk with Harry… and the paparazzi. (angst/ fluff)

#6. He hears you sing while making breakfast. (fluff)

#7. Drunk Harry outs your secret relationship.

#8. Texting Harry while he’s on tour. (fluff/ funny)

#9. You call Harry crying. (angst)

NIALL HORAN:

1. Late night care. (requested)  2. The colours you brought me. (requested)

LIAM PAYNE:

1. Holding hands. (requested)

13 REASONS WHY:

1. Excuses - Jeff Atkins. 2. Justin Foley request. 3. Meant to be - Montgomery de la Cruz

PROMPT LIST:

#24. “Is that a tattoo?“ - Niall Horan

EXTRA:

I’m a sucker for sunrises, fall and also Harry, so why not combine them all?

“What the-?”

Your eyes flutter at the intruder light washing the room. You blink repeated times, trying to gently familiarize your eyes to it’s shimmer. From the picture window at the right side of the bedroom, your eyes begin to focus the peach sunrays that are bathing the sky from the horizon, swallowing the trailing navy blue of the former nighttime. The fresh autumn air blows at the cinnamon and yellow leaves, making them glide in the cool air, traveling wherever the wind takes them. The city is engulfed in a wave of warm colours, giving it the best look.

Honey brushes land on your naked shoulder, trailing up to your neck, kissing it with its warmth. However, Harry seems to be more appealing to them, as their golden light is all over him; splashed over his chest, lightening up his face, seeping through his disheveled curls.

Waking up early in the morning never felt so good.

Now you understand why Harry loves so much to be an early bird. He gets to witness a fascinating picture when the day is blossoming: the fresh morning air, a pleasant, soft silence, one of the most delightful phenomena of the day, and, last but not least, your placid expression, body wrapped up in cotton blankets, system immersed in sleeping.

You’re glad you’re the one who gets to admire all that for once.

He’s laying on his back, chest exposed, tattoos glowing. His lashes are fanned out against his cheeks, long and thick. His defined features are drowned in the smoothness of being asleep. Slightly parted are his raspberry lips, from which the two white ends of his front teeth stick out.

“So beautiful” You whisper, your words fading in the air.

His brunette curls tousle even more when he shifts on the mattress, finding a refuge from the hot sunlight on your chest. His breath fans over your skin, tickling the area at times. 

You can’t keep yourself from tracing his gleaming frame. The pads of your fingers stroke his flesh tenderly, goosebumps arising on it from the light touch. His back is warm when you travel your fingers down his spine, and he shivers when you trail them back to his nape.

“Mhm?” He mumbles, confused.

“Shh, it’s just me”

You meet his drowsy eyes, blinking lazily to focus their vision on you.

His heart-shaped lips curl up in a dimpled smile before he says:

“Morning, m’love”

“Very good morning, sweetheart”

This is a masterlist to all the writing i’ve been posting ever since (New York, lol) I joined Tumblr. It’ll be updated every time I post a new imagine.

Hope you like it. xx

(Each section goes from the oldest to the most recent work)

HARRY STYLES:

1.  A sweet evening.

2.  Mixed dates.

3.  Cold days.

4.   Promise (Part one).

5.  Promise (Part two). (requested)

6.  Beautiful.

7.  Daddy’s treasures.

8.  Dreams do come true.

9.  in our hearts.

10.  Hideaway.

11. I won.

12. Hearts don’t break around here.

13.  For your eyes only.

- Series:

DARKNESS  Part 2

Where Harry is drown in sorrow.

- Blurbs:

#1. “Let me kiss you”

#2. Two hearts in one home.

#3. Where you fall asleep in Harry’s arms.

- Concept Nights:

#1. He hears you sing in the shower. (fluff)

#2. He breaks in front of you. (angst)

#3. You both star in the cover of a magazine. (fluff)

#4. You watch your wedding video for the first time. (fluff)

#5. You go for a walk with Harry… and the paparazzi. (angst/ fluff)

#6. He hears you sing while making breakfast. (fluff)

#7. Drunk Harry outs your secret relationship.

#8. Texting Harry while he’s on tour. (fluff/ funny)

#9. You call Harry crying. (angst)

NIALL HORAN:

1. Late night care. (requested)  2. The colours you brought me. (requested)

LIAM PAYNE:

1. Holding hands. (requested)

13 REASONS WHY:

1. Excuses - Jeff Atkins. 2. Justin Foley request. 3. Meant to be - Montgomery de la Cruz

PROMPT LIST:

#24. “Is that a tattoo?“ - Niall Horan

EXTRA:

PART 1.

WARNINGS: Cheating. Pretty sad.

“Harry?”

Everything around them drops to a dead silence. She is in front of him. Y/n is in right front of him after a whole month of just seeing her in his sleep, in his daydreaming, in his loneliness. She didn’t seem real in any of them, neither does she now that a few steps interpose between them.

The mist flowing past her lips in the tired call of his name hits him, it is colder than anything he’s felt before. She oozes distance, hollowness.

Harry can’t believe he is the author of such a tragic destruction.

Where is the gleam of her gaze? Where did the chubby of her cheeks go? When did her sweet smile turn bitter?

It was outrageous the fact that he knew all the answers to those questions. It was unforgivable that he was the one who wrote that fate.

He not only disappointed her, he let himself down, and even if she forgave him, he’d never see himself as he used to.

“I’m so sorry”

A consuming burn seizes his chest and crawls down the pit of his stomach. He’s mute. There’s so much boiling underneath those miles of vulnerable skin, yet his mouth can’t out anything.

He knows a simple I’m sorry won’t change anything. It won’t tell her the mess he is. It won’t get to her heart.

But at least it’s a start.

“I’m sorry for what I did; for having been so selfish; for being a coward. I’m sorry for everything”

His heart is pounding inside his chest, pumping everything he wishes he could say. His apologies flow in the air among them, not daring to reach her, to reach her feelings. The thumping of his heartbeat is everything he can hear, and it’s deafening him. His hands curl up into a fist, bitten nails dig in the dry flesh of his palms, trying to hide his uncontrollable shaking.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated like I treated you. I should have realised you were hurting sooner. I should have done something to fix the mess I made. But I didn’t, and you don’t know how much I regret it” He pauses, trying not to gag on his words “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I- I can’t even think straight because everything in my head reminds me of the piece of shit I am”

Y/n stares at him with hollow eyes, her mouth remains shut, as closed as all of her.

The silence is killing him. A month had gone without her voice feeding his senses. A month had gone with uncertainty stuck on each of its days, and now that he’s in front of her, he’s begging for something, anything, to come out of her mouth. He needs to hear the poison he created in her. He needs her to vomit all the hideous thoughts he sowed in her mind with his mistakes. She’s the one innocent in this crime, if someone had to suffer, that was him, he deserved it

“Y/n, please, say something, insult me, yell at me-just… do something… please”

He clamps his eyes shut and bites the side of his mouth, preparing himself for the sharp words that are about to crash on him.

But none of that happens when she opens her mouth

“You had me begging for what you offered me the most, your love”

because her voice discovers itself in a dim murmur, yet it has the power of the worst of the disasters. As a tsunami, it frantically sweeps over the shore his system is, destroying what was left of him. As a hurricane, it takes all his hopes and flies them away.

He did that. The suffering he caused her got to the extent where it became great enough to numb any other feeling. Anger, resentment, hatred; everything mixed inside her and ended up in that: void.

And that was crueler than any insult.

“Do you have any idea of how I was? At the time where I needed you the most, where I was feeling the most miserable, you weren’t there. You claimed I could always be myself with you, yet I had to swallow all my problems because I thought they were getting to you and I was stressing you out. I had to go through the worst of the feelings on my own and fake always a smile because I thought that way Harry, my Harry would come back”

Her voice cracks. For the first time of the night -for the first time in a month- she expresses any kind of emotion.

“I cried myself to sleep every single night because I was so fucking confused, I didn’t know what I had done to force you to become so cold. I knew you were aware I was awake when you came home late. I knew you heard the sobs I couldn’t stifle just because I was becoming mad about what could possibly have gone wrong between the two of us. You know how bad that hurt?”

He doesn’t dare to look at her in the eyes, his head sinks in his shoulders with every word.

“Harry, you left me. When I needed you the most, you left me”

Her gaze drills on him as she gives voice to the sour taste his visit has arisen on the tip of her tongue. It hurts to hear the words roll out of her mouth, they bring back to life those memories she considered as already buried; yet the heavy weight on her chest eases as she utters each of them.

Maybe this night was necessary, for both of them.

“Y/n, I hate myself for it, you don’t know how much” He says in a breath.

Realisation crawls up in his system, invading all of him. He is being selfish. Again, he’s putting himself before her. To find a way back to her heart is what he wants the most, it’s the cure to his pain, the medicine he needs;

but not hers

and because he loves her he has to understand it.

“That doesn’t matter, not anymore” She mutters, wiping away the silent tears that slide down her face.

In the jet black night, the only sound alive is the wind hitting on their frames. The flickering lamp post above them had been witnessing their last moment together, until then, when it gave its last blink before it finally died off.

Harry can hear Y/n waking back to the door, distancing from him, this time forever.

“I’m sorry” Is the last thing she hears from him.

The click of the door shutting behind her is the last thing he hears from her.

Not my gif, credits to the owner.

A/N: Okay guys that is the end of my first angsty series! A massive thank you to all the lovely people who sent me comments about it, they REALLY helped me through a bit of a tough time I was having regarding my writing :) Hope this was worth the wait!!!

I’d really appreciate it if you sent me feedback on how this was, it’d really help me through this new path my writing is taking.

Nothing else, thank you so much for reading it. I love you xx

Cotton sheets crease underneath you as you adjust your body to his, fitting perfectly in the gap his position offers. His lanky fingers comb your hair gently, and the way his pads brush your scalp arise goosebumps on the valley of your neck. His hot breath fans over the back of your ear, contrasting with the cool breeze coming from the window right beside the padded structure where you are resting. It’s raining outside. A greyish sky observes from above the activities taking place inside the four walls you both know as home. Lazy droplets make it to where your bodies are laying, making their home at haphazard points of your skin. The smell of wet soil fills all your senses. You close your eyes, breathing in every bit of it.

Harry has thrown a leg over yours, bringing you even closer to his chest. The hand that minutes ago was caressing your hair, is now tracing the flesh of your lips. Your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden, and all you can think about is on the delicious sleep waiting for you in just a blink of an eye.

He lifts his head from the comfort of the pillows, and sees the lazy fluttering of your lashes. He kisses your nape before muttering a drowsy

“That’s it. Sleep m’love. I’ll be right here when yeh wake up”

This is a masterlist to all the writing i’ve been posting ever since (New York, lol) I joined Tumblr. It’ll be updated everytime I post another imagine.

Happy reading! :)

HARRY STYLES:

1. I won. 2. Hearts don’t break around here. 3. Hideaway.  4. in our hearts. 5. Dreams do come true. 6. Daddy’s treasures. 7. Beautiful. 8. Promise (Part two). (requested)  9. Promise (Part one).  10. Cold days. 11. Mixed dates. 12. A sweet evening.

13. For your eyes only.

- Angst:

DARKNESS.

The one where Harry is drown in sorrow.

- Blurbs:

#1. “Let me kiss you”

#2. Two hearts in one home.

- Concept Nights:

#1. He hears you sing in the shower. (fluff)

#2. He breaks in front of you. (angst)

#3. You both star in the cover of a magazine. (fluff)

#4. You watch your wedding video for the first time. (fluff)

#5. You go for a walk with Harry… and the paparazzi. (angst/ fluff)

#6. He hears you sing while making breakfast. (fluff)

#7. Drunk Harry outs your secret relationship.

#8. Texting Harry while he’s on tour. (fluff/ funny)

NIALL HORAN:

1. Late night care. (requested)  2. The colours you brought me. (requested)

LIAM PAYNE:

1. Holding hands. (requested)

13 REASONS WHY:

1. Excuses - Jeff Atkins. 2. Justin Foley request. 3. Meant to be - Montgomery de la Cruz

PROMPT LIST:

#24. “Is that a tattoo?“ - Niall Horan

EXTRA:

Harry Edward Styles * Sighs * Okay but… I needed to let everything out Louis deserves all the love

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence. Swearing. Angst

Everything had been going pretty well for the past months. You had finally managed to find a ray of hope in the darkness. Once and for all you had achieved to unchain your memories from the past and focus on the present, on how much you wanted it to be illuminated by the jade gleam of the man that all along told you everything would get better.

It took you a whole year of nightmares and bitter reminiscences to come back to the healthy life you had been snatched from.

It took way less to see all that destroyed.

Two minutes.

Who would have said two minutes were enough to shatter someone’s heart into pieces? Who would have known how poisonous a handful of words could be?

You sure did. You had to discover it in the worst of the ways.

First of all, you knew you should have never picked up the phone. Just by his name glowing on the screen, cold shivers started to run down your spine, your muscles tensed under your skin and you felt a tight constriction appropriate your chest.

You knew you were being too naive when the thought that maybe he regretted everything he had done and just wanted to apologise popped in your mind.

But you followed the urge to put a closure to the most miserable chapter of your life.

And now his words are part of the air you breathe.

“Slut”

“Whore”

“Idiot”

“Bitch”

You feel small, captured in the four walls around you. The familiar taste of it gets clung to your tongue annoyingly, as difficult to get rid of as the sourest of the flavours.

You’re sitting on the bed, back pressed against the hard headboard, face hidden in the small gap of your knees touching your chest. Tears are drenching your face, leaving jet black irregular roads run down your cheeks.

Your hands clutch the sheets beneath you, creasing them. Despite the fabric, your nails find a way to dig in the palm of your hands, soft flesh burning under the coarse touch.

In the dead silence, the noise of your sobs is the only thing to be heard. It drills into your ears and looks forward seizing your head. A sharp pain has taken over the region of your temple, his voice boils in it, unceasingly scalding.

“I hope that dumb fuck realises you’re just another one of his gold digger bitches”

“He doesn’t love you, you idiot”

“You’ve always been an Insecure whore”

“He just wants you so you keep sucking his cock every night”

“ ‘Cause that’s what sluts do”

“Sluts like you”

Back when they weren’t just an echo in your mind but barks hitting every fibre of your being, the one thing that gave you the strength to hold on was Harry.

His warm arms embracing the mess you were. His gentle fingers wiping the tears away from your face. His hot breath whispering into your ear repeated “We’ll get better, my darling” ‘s. His voice was the only melody that could mute the world.

And you were always playing it.

You rummage for your phone in the disheveled bed. You had coped too much with your ex-boyfriend’s insults, it got to a point where it was either your mental health or him, so you tossed the device as far from you as possible and covered your ears, pushing against them until his rage trailed off to an end.

Under the last call, Harry’s contact observes your hesitation to tap the call option. He had put up with so much of your suffering, he didn’t deserve to come back to that again, not when he was at his happiest. You promised yourself to not let any of the misery you felt come out of your system. You just wanted to hear his healing voice.

But he wasn’t oblivious to the quivering of your words.

“Y/n, what the hell happened? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying Harry, I’m fine” You said as the tears rolled by.

“Why are you lying to me? You’re not like this. What in the world is making you lie to me?” You notice a thick layer of worry in his interventions. He was desperate at the other end of the line, not knowing the reason behind your crying, nor the conditions you were in settled a suffocating lump in his throat.

“Love, please, talk to me, you know you can trust me, I’m here to help you. You just have to talk to me” He whispers softly, waiting for the answer he needs.

“I-I… he called” You can’t help to trail off.

“He?… Shit. What did that piece of shit do?” His voice has lowered several tones. Rage builds up in him at a fast pace.

“H- He said things, really hurtful things. I- I wanted to hang up, but I- I just couldn’t. I was paralysed” You stutter, gagging on your words.

Harry’s eyes fill with tears when he notices how much you had been struggling to contain your emotions. When the quivering transitioned into crying, the fire starting to burn inside of him was extinguished by the tears at the other end of the line. He knew he wouldn’t be of any use if he had let outrage get a hold of him. You had had enough.

The fist in his left hand unknots slowly.

“Love… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that alone. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to shut him up” He closes his eyes as he hears hiccups leave your mouth. As softly as he can he continues “I won’t pressure you to tell me all the shit he said, but please, don’t believe any of that. Listen to me, never, ever, let what anybody says get to you. You have to know you are an amazing human being, and that you don’t deserve any of this bullshit” He gets desperate when he notices you don’t seem to calm down, running his hand through his face, trying to get rid of the tension. “He- Hey, Pet, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. Just breathe… that’s it, now go look for a glass of water, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll never leave you”

He waits patiently until you return.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better, you don’t know how much your voice helps me” You utter, placing a hand on your chest to ease your heavy breathing.

“Love, we’ve been a long way, we’ve been through the worst struggles to get where we are now. Do you really think a cunt like him is strong enough to destroy that so easily? Do you really think he’s man enough to have a valid statement?”

“No… of course he’s not”

“Then fuck him, and let’s just move on. Cowards like him aren’t worth your time. Ignore everything that comes from him, and if he reaches you don’t even bother to listen to him. Show him the brave woman you are, show him you’re far beyond him. Ju- Just be aware of the beautiful human being you are and no one will bring you down, ever.”

It took two minutes for your heart to break.

It took even less for Harry to put the pieces back together.

Feedback would be so appreciated on this one :)

Gurl meh’ too, da’ fuc?… no? okay I’ll leave.

The darkness of the night has already engulfed the baby blue that used to rule in the sky. You’re wrapped in Harry’s purple jumper, cuddling with his pillow in its center. His scent is still palpable in the pillowcase, yet inevitably fading away with every deep inhale you take of it.

It’s been two weeks since he went away, and, though it hasn’t been that much time, you can’t help but start noticing his absence and yearning of his company, especially in the night.

Silence prevailed in the room. The lingering breeze of air peeking through the half closed window hit your naked legs, contrasting with the warmth of the fabric covering your upper body. Everything seemed to be conspiring to get you to fall asleep, but the buzz on your nightstand managed to win over any persistent attempt.

“Pet, are you still awake?”

Any hints of drowsiness were cleaned off your system when you saw the handful of words on display on the screen.

“I can’t believe it! Donald the Duck is texting me!” You answered playfully.

“Yeah… you are… Daisy”

“Did you know Daisy was my all time favourite character?” You giggled to yourself, continuing with the joke.

“You’re ruining my attempt of cute good night text… :’(”

“I was loving the way this conversation was taking :(”

If there was something you missed the most about being with Harry face to face, that was teasing him. Playing with him until he got all bothered and pouty and you had to kiss away the expression insistently.Doing so over texts wasn’t the same, there weren’t any puckered lips to kiss right after.

“Okay, let’s turn a few minutes back in time and restart the conversation”“Ahhgawydgwghd”“Phbdjfuehdijsojd”

“What does that even mean, Harreh?” You frowned, digging your teeth into your lips to keep you from laughing.

“I’m rewinding the conversation, isn’t it obvious?”“Duh”

“Harry, you’re incredibly extra… I can’t even”

At the other side of the conversation was him, snorting at his humour and wishing to be in front of you, watching the way you rolled your eyes at his chuckles but still accepted him spreading pecks all over your face.

“Love you! xx“

Girl, I found this concept hilarious, I’m sure that baby duck would be in that level of clumsy lmao. 

It is hot in the fancy club. Warm lights are travelling all over the place, enlivening the atmosphere. The loud music swallows all the murmur formed by the conversations being held in each and every corner of the crowded room.

And Harry is taking part in one of them.

He’s been buzzing all night, happy because you are happy. Seeing you light up the room with your smile gives him the greatest bliss, which can only be dimmed by the distance from where he has to stare at it. He can only think about how bad he wants to congratulate you for your success in the form of a passionate kiss, not caring about anyone seeing you; but for the sake of the relationship, he has to limit to just watch you blush at the thousand compliment of the night from the distance.

The heat in the room makes the glasses of cold champagne running around the constraints of the club appetising all of a sudden. His eyes close in pleasure when he feels the cool liquor run down the pipe of his throat, satisfying his needs and marking his system with perky touches.

He soon becomes addicted to the feeling. Glass after glass, the alcohol starts to take over his system, making him the most talkative person in the room.

“Mate, m’girl looks amazing tonight, doesn’t she?” He babbles, pointing at you.

“Sorry, who?” The man he’s just become best friends with asks him, interested.

“Y/n. Tha’ red dress looks great on her” He drags a high-pitched chuckle.

“Uhm… yeah, I guess?”

“I’m so proud o’ her. She’s worked her socks off for this film, yeh know? I look up on her the most, she’s so passionate about what she does. She deserves this and more.

Gosh… I love her”

“Hold on, are you and Y/n having a fling?”

“We’re not a fling, yeh dummy. We’ve been together fo’ two years, but none o’ you have noticed because we’re so good at keeping things private. We’re the best fuckin’ couple” Laughing to himself, he lifts his hand in the air and gives himself a high five, cheeks all flushed and drowsy hiccups concealing badly the great reveal he’s just made.

He’s too drunk to realise he’s not so good at keeping secrets as he claims, but the joy, mixed with how tipsy he is, makes everything in his mind a blur and his mouth a clear and open way to expose himself.

Still, he finishes off the conversation with a:

“I dunno wha’ we’d do if somebody ended up finding out” As he takes another sip of the golden liquid.

The next morning you wake up to a bunch of notifications announcing “The brand new, yet surprisingly old, Hollywood couple” You are a confused mess when you read the most accurate of the details spread on the covers of the header international gossip magazines, shaking hurriedly the sleeping body beside you, until he’s as awoke and puzzled as you.

“Wha’ the hell? How did they find out” He says rubbing his temple to ease the headache the alcohol has left behind.

“According to this… “Sources claim the big news was spilled by Harry Styles himself, in a tipsy and clearly disastrous impulse” Harry! What in the world made you do that?” You yell, driving your gaze from the screen to his bewildered profile.

“I- I don’t remember doin’ tha’, Pet, I promise. I mean, I did have some shots, yeah, but I don’t recall doing such a thing”

You glare at him before returning your vision to the article.

Wanna know the funniest part? According to the anonymous source, Styles mumbled something along the lines of “We don’t know what we’d do if anybody found out” after messing things up. What a hilarious guy!

“Harry freaking Edward Styles, you’d better tell me this is a lie”

“It is a li- hold on…” He halts when everything comes back to his mind in an overwhelming rush. And, right then, he brings his hands to his face, covering it fully and muffling a:  

“oh… fuck me”

SEND IN MORE FLUFFY CONCEPTS!

(Know that I might be slow on posting them because I’ve got some other stuff I’m working on, but if you still wanna send them in, I’ll gladly take them!)

Omg I’ve pictured this in my mind way too many times!! 

When Harry wakes up, the first thing his senses detect is how the morning greets him with a cold absence on the left side of the bed. He whines as he nuzzles the pillow you have left for him to hold while he kept on with his drowsy activity, sensing the last bits of your perfume laying on it. His long arm roams over the padded surface, wishing it was the goosebumps the bare lands of your skin transform into whenever they are under his lingering touch.

Taking his time, he flutters his eyes open, lashes pecking the apple of his cheeks. Once his mossy orbs get used to the dazzling sunlight bathing the room, he’s ready to prop up on his elbows, about to let out a loud, dragged yawn. But right when the both sides of his eyelids are about to meet and his mouth is wide open, the faint mumble coming from outside the bedroom forces him to halt.

It’s somebody singing.

And that somebody is Y/n.

As if all the energy stored in a lifetime intruded in his system, he tosses all the covers wrapping his lanky body aside and runs vigorously towards the charming source of the vibrations that run through every nook and cranny inside the flat.

On his way to find you, he becomes more stunned by the way your tender pitch fits harmonically the sexy chords of his song “Woman”

He feels flattered, to say the least, that the first time he meets your surprising singing skills is to one of his songs, most specifically, the one he wrote on a lonely and damp Jamaican night, thinking about you.

“Tempted, you knowApologies are never gonna fix thisI’m empty I knowPromises are broken like stitches”

Your purring gives away your location. As he approaches you, his steps become heavier, he’s hypnotised by the sight before his eyes.

Your shape is wrapped by his ripped Rolling Stones t-shirt, which swings at the devilish wiggle of your hips. Your legs are on full display, and he gets dazed in the way they move along to the guitar solo that comes after the verse you just sang.

He’s thankful that you’re facing the counter, too concentrated in chopping what seems to be some fruits. He can enjoy the scene right in front of his eyes and get lost in the way you harmonically hum the instrumental bridge.

“Quack… quack…”

Of course, you had to make that “hilarious” effect. After first hearing the song you always talked about it as The Donald Duck Song. Harry knew you were never going to quit calling it that way so he just gave up.

The high pitched snort that bursts out of his raspberry lips is enough to startle you and make you turn around, finding an amused Harry crossing his arms around his tummy in a desperate action to stop the ache too much laugh gave him.

“Pet… Fuck me… tha’ was the best part… M’gonna die…” He says in between hasty breaths, walking towards you.

“How long have you been there?” You ask, rubbing his back to ease his ridiculous fit of chuckles.

“Long enough to realise yeh’ sing so fuckin’ good”

He realises the mad flush your face is covered in, and the way your gaze drops to the floor, trying to hide your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, don’t be shy. Yeh’ really impressed me. The way yeh’ danced, your gorgeous voice, how my shirt fits tha’ beautiful body of yours. Gosh, everything about it was so hot” He purrs into your ear, slipping his big, ringed hands underneath the cotton cloth. The cold metal roams over your hot skin, bringing those goosebumps, he had been yearning of in the morning, to life.

“Stop it, mate. It’s too early for what you intend”

“Dammit, had to try” He says as his mouth makes its way to melt with yours in a delicious kiss.

“By the way, yeh’ll be the duck for my next album”

SEND IN MORE FLUFFY CONCEPTS! 

(Know I might be slow on posting them because I’ve got some other stuff I’m working on, but if you still wanna send in, I’ll gladly take them!)

You are LOVED.

You are STRONG.

You are BEAUTIFUL (yeah you are, don’t even question it)

You are BRAVE.

You can get over whatever it is that you’re going through right now, despite what others say or you think. You’re not alone, so seek to always follow that tiny ray of positivity in the darkness and you’ll eventually see it grows bigger and bigger, until one day you’re out there shouting out loud to the world:

“THAT SHIT WANTED TO DESTROY ME,

I think when we talk about Harry buying Gucci we all picture this outfit in our minds. It was sooo hot/ cute/ ajghhagdh

The night has already fallen. A pitch black ocean rules in the sky above. Vague glitter sparkles can be discerned from it, as if they were playing hide and seek at the other side of the thick layer of pollution penetrating the constraints of the city. Dazzling lights coming from each and every of the buildings furnishing the avenue provide the crowded streets with the light necessary to keep up with the name New York enjoyed of: The city that never sleeps.

Harry and you hold hands as you wander around the Fifth Avenue. A dimpled grin is settled on his face, watching the gleam that floats in your eyes. It’s the first time you properly travel outside the so well known borders of London. You are beyond excited. Everything in your sight is worth your utter attention, and you wished you had taken your camera with you to capture everything your eyes lay upon on.

Harry is loving to see the way the neon lights paint a lively landscape all over the canvas your face is. He’s loving, even more, the fact that he’s the only one who gets to witness it.

Or was.

A dazzling flash hit your faces, leaving the image before your eyes dappled in thick dark dots. Harry instinctively throws his hand over your eyes. You may be clueless about what’s happening, but him? no, he’s not.

“Fucking hell”

A bunch of paparazzi is disturbing your way. They walk along with you both, throwing meddling questions with the oddest spontaneity you’ve ever seen.

“Do you reckon this relationship will last”

“Y/n, what do you think about Harry being labeled as a womanizer?”

“Y/n you must be delighted now that you have a man with money. He must buy you lots of stuff. Try to get as much as you can from this, it won’t last long”

If you already felt uncomfortable with the situation that comment made a sea of tears pool in your eyes. Your head drops low, and the hold you have of Harry’s hand loosens until there is no grip at all. You need desperately to get out of the sudden commotion that has been formed.

Harry finds himself with the urge of snapping at the paparazzo, but he’s smart enough to know that’s the exact response he’s waiting for. So he just limits to glare at him and ignore all the derogatory comments, knotting your hand with his and handing you the sunglasses that seconds ago were holding his curls back.

“Harry…” You trail off, trying to untie your connected hands, you don’t want to embarrass him. You don’t want him to be seen with a gold digger.

“Please… Y/n, please”

He knows letting go of his grip is the last thing you want, and that the reason behind your rejecting behavior was that comment. He, himself, has gone through that struggle: letting toxic statements step on his bliss, on his wishful thinking and destroy them all. He remembers the first time he was called a womanizer. After that interview, he cried for hours until he fell asleep. At that time he had the support of all the boys, who managed to cheer him up and always stood up for him whenever the topic was brought up.

He now is witnessing your struggle.

But you aren’t alone.

When the mob turns wilder Harry knows he has to find some way out of it, not only for both your sakes, but for the one of the reporters as well. Sooner or later someone will end up hurt.

Scanning the area he spots the Gucci store he was looking for, at the end of the block. Whenever he traveled to New York he always worked his way to come by at least once, and with every single visit he ended up becoming friends with the manager.

“Harry, please answer some of our questi-”

The heavy click of the door closing on their faces mutes their nosy questions, leading to a pleasing silence filling your sense of hearing.

“Alex, thank yeh’ so much foi the favour. The mess out there is crazy” He says, shaking his hand.

“It’s okay Harry. We’re glad you turned to us. Do you want me to call anybody?”

“Uh, I’ll order an uber myself. But, could you give us some time alone? Please?”

“Of course, I’m gonna be in the office if you need me”

Alex pats on his arm, glancing at your uncomfortable frame standing in the middle of the fancy boutique. Harry nods at him and as soon as he leaves the room, he spins on his heels and approaches you.

Your gaze is lost on the floor.

“Pet, I’m so sorry for wha’ happened out there. Tha’ guy was-”

“Do you think it’s true?” You cut him. “Do you think I’m a gold digger?” A faint quiver can be noticed in your dim voice. You sound like a scared child, a scared little girl who fears to learn the truth. Harry’s stomach clenches when you discover to him your stained face. Yet black paths mark your skin in the most hideous of the ways.

“Y/n…” He digs his teeth in his lower lip to elude the tears from building up in his eyes. With his strong arms, he wraps your frame, reassuring you.

“Sweetheart, by no means I think yeh’re such a thing. Tha’ prick said wha’ he said just to pick on you. He wanted to tease a violent reaction from me by hurting who I love the most. You have to know they will never stop, they live out of it. If there isn’t drama they’re gonna dig for it. At the end of the day, their point is always to have some juicy gossip, and that’s never gonna change”

“But- I mean… you constantly buy me all this fancy stuff worth two-months of my rent. They all see that, so somehow it wouldn’t be difficult to believe it” His scent fills your lungs, easing the anxiety your whole body had been sunk in. “Ugh! I just don’t know who I am anymore. They know bloody well how to get into your mind and fuck you up”

You bite the yellow fabric of his sweater, muffling an annoyed cry. Harry’s countenance softens, now that he sees you’ve calmed down. He leaves lingering kisses on top of your head, brushing his plump lips against the soft strands of hair.

“Y/n, if I get you wha’ I get you it’s because I can afford it and, mostly, ‘cause I want to. You shouldn’t feel bad If one day I get home with the whole Gucci shop in the back o’ my car just for yo-”

“Gosh, I can’t take that as a joke, I’m sure you’d do it”

“Yeah, I would. You deserve that and more”

“But I just want you”

“You already have me, baby girl. You already do” 

He backs away a few inches away, to have a proper view of your expression gaining that bliss with which it started the night off. “That’s the Y/n I want, all smiley” He connects his lips with yours, inviting them to perform a gentle dance.

“And look, I’m so generous that I’ve got something for the paps as well”

“What?” You asked confused.

“A huge eff yeh’”

Between the giggles he puts in your mouth you realise for the hundreth time about something: 

You love him so much.

SEND IN MORE FLUFFY CONCEPTS!

Request: Hiii ! Could you please write about Harry coming at the home of his ex-girlfriend during the night while she was sleeping because he’s been a mess since their breakup and he just can’t live without her . And the girl is still loving her or not as you want :) Have a lovely day sweetie 😘

This is my first angsty work. Hope you like it!

Darkness. All Harry can see is darkness.

The room feels flooded, flooded in memories, distant and blurry remainders of the times where he used to feel, remainders of what he used to be.

The jet black void he is physically and internally drowned in suffocates him. The weight at his chest makes it a struggle to catch a breath. Cold rules in the confines of the one that used to be the sweet refuge he ran to whenever fear threatened him. The home… house he is caught in has transformed into the monster he once so ran away from.

And he can’t blame nobody. It is all his fault.

Harry hasn’t been the same since the day she left.

Pain reigns in the withered land his being is. Pain has managed to take away his own identity from him. He isn’t Harry Styles, the man who once held pure bliss in his hands, anymore. He has grown into the murky wreckage of the man who used to have it all.

Life has become a nightmare. He can’t sleep, he can’t think straight, he’s not able of looking himself at the mirror anymore, not when he sees in his eyes the void hers were full of the night she left; not when he can still feel her in his skin. The skin he decided to blemish with the touch of another woman.

Y/n is everywhere he lays his eyes upon.

He can see her on top of the mahogany piano at the back of the living room, which is now another victim of the darkness. She is swinging softly at the rhythm of the piece he’s playing. Her eyes are closed, lips curled up in a smile. A snowy white sheet is wrapped around her body, hugging her curves. Her hair is a complete mess, but for Harry she’s beauty personified. He can’t get his eyes away from the way her skin glows with the sunlight that paints the room in honey brushes.

The melody he plays has long ago turned into a noise of dissonant chords, but he doesn’t care,

she’s everything he can see.

And for a second, just a brief second, he’s smiling. He’s smiling just the way he used to back when he knew what genuine smiles were. Chills of bliss run down his spine, and his eyes light up when his mind fools him with the unreal fantasy that everything has come back to normality.

But as soon as it comes the grin fades away from his face and he is stabbed with the sharpest knife of pain. The image before his eyes distorts and all of a sudden she isn’t sat on the piano anymore and the sun isn’t shining as it should be.

They both are on the same small sofa, where he’s now sitting, alone.  A few inches that feel like kilometers interpose between them. The room is hideously quiet. She isn’t grinning anymore and her eyes are shut, but not of pleasure. Tears are running slowly down her cheeks, just as awfully slow as the internal death he’s going through.

She doesn’t utter a single word, and that is the best thing she can do to kill him. The feeling of guilt at the recall grows bigger. His stomach twist at the memory of how her body flinched when he tried to place his soothing hand on her shoulder, and a lump intrudes in his throat when the only words she said to him come to his mind.

“I hate you”

At that moment Harry’s vision of life turned countless shades darker.

His vision becomes fuzzy. A painful burn invades his chest. He is raging. All he can feel is hate and disgust towards himself. He wasn’t able to value the one good thing that had happened to his life. He hadn’t the guts to face his problems and all he did was find an outlet to his frustration in the body of another woman as torn as him. He was too coward to acknowledge the hurting heart that faked her sleep on the left side of the cold bed each and every single night. He hurt the only thing he cared about.

And now the only thing in his life is a half empty glass of red wine.

He feels the urge to shove something to the wall across him. He needs to see something as shattered as him to feel a little less miserable. Only he could need something as pathetic as that.

It’s dark and his eyes are weak. He fumbles for anything within reach, coming across a wooden frame. And right then his fury trails off. He doesn’t even have to make an effort to know what it is. In between his big hands he’s holding the worst of the tortures: a picture. He can’t distinguish the shapes in it, neither he needs it to see the image, it is burned in his brain.

He is smiling, a slight blush can be noticed at his cheeks. His long curls are a mess and he remembers a drowsy Y/n running her hands all over his scalp as she drifted off. She is beside him, her head lays upon his shoulder, she’s asleep. Her lashes caress the apple of her cheeks and her lower lip is pouty. Her features ooze peace.

It wouldn’t be so painful to see that image if he didn’t remember with exact detail what happened hours after it was taken. That night witnessed the first time Y/n and Harry run out of words to express how much they loved each other. That night a simple action as a touch for others, meant the discovery of a new world to them, a world where malice didn’t exist, where nobody could end up hurt, where love always won. A place where gasps, moans and tender touches was the official language: the language of love.

That’s where he reaches his limit, he can’t hold back the tears anymore. With just one blink they begin to slide down his face incessantly, as if they were running away from such a toxic inside. He’s sobbing madly, sinking in his own sorrow. And what else can he do? He could destroy all the furniture in the house, but the mess he’d leave would only remind him even more of his current state of mind.

The salty tears dampening his face aren’t enough to ease the ache he is suffering from, but he once heard a little was better than none.

At some point of his breakdown he loses the tiny sense of control that still remained in his system. He’s tired. Too tired of stifling his impulses. Part of the ache settled in his heart comes from the unnatural restrainings he’s been applying to it.

He’s about to lose it. To lose any sort health he had managed to keep during that dreadful month.

And when he stands up from the padded structure he knows he isn’t the one in charge of his actions.

Not anymore.

As a plastic bag drifting through the wind, his feet drag their way outside the constraints of the house. His gaze is lost in the way his heavy steps carry him through the dim-lighted streets. It’s cold, he hasn’t bothered to take a jacket with him. The wind feels like punches to his frame, as if they were trying to let him know what he was doing was useless, as if they were attempting to convince him of giving up such a stupid impulse.

Nonetheless, his steps carry on. They don’t increase in pace, but neither do they slow down.

Eventually his walking halts. His heart starts to pump wildly when he realises where he is.

His frame is standing in front of her house. The pitch black windows visible from the outside shout the absence of activity inside. Harry builds his last pessimistic thought of the night upon that: it had been stupid on his behalf to go to her house at the wee hours of the night. But again, he wasn’t the one in charge of his actions.

It was hope.

His hand crumples into a fist and drives itself towards the wooden surface before him, hesitantly. Three faint knocks are landed on it, and at that moment he becomes aware of what he’s doing. He’s shaking, his eyes are clamped shut, his mouth desert-dry and he’s holding his breath. His blood is rushing inside of him, nerves on edge. He can hear the war of thoughts taking place inside his mind: to wait, to leave.

But everything stops when the door cracks as it is opened.

“Harry?”

Guys, I hope this didn’t suck. Feedback would be sooo appreciated. Please, feel free to tell me what you thought about it. It’d be so helpful to guide me through this new path my writing is taking!

Thanks for reading. xx

Lazy droplets caress the transparent surface of the wall-size window on the right side of the bedroom. The sky is covered in a grey garden of clouds. The sun has been reduced to a small shimmering ball that struggles to peek its rays through the cracks the irregular shape of the clouds offer, managing to bath with an amber light those areas it reaches.

Harry’s broad back is pressed against the padded headboard. His slender fingers comb gently your hair, tucking it behind your ear to have a better sight of you laying between his legs, your head resting upon his right thigh.

Your vision is focused on the screen across the bed. Images from the day Harry and you became one at eyes of your most beloved ones playing, rekindling those memories you would hold dear until your last breath.

A close-up shot of you both staring at each other shows up. Then the camera proceeds to focus just on him. It starts off on his jade orbs which lodge those enlarged pitch black pupils you never get tired of drowning in; following, the lens travels downwards, exposing his defined features, and it halts once it has found his raspberry lips, which are lifted from the corners, creating a mesmerizing and genuine smile.

The very same shot is done with your beauty. Lit up eyes ooze the bliss your system is not able of storing anymore and your smile matches his, as the vows you uttered one another can be heard in the background.

“On this day, in front o’ the ones we love, I promise yeh’ I’ll always be by your side. Hand in hand we’ll go through everything we come across. I’ll give yeh’ the best o’ me, I’ll be a better person for you. I’ll even improve my jokes, just to see those pretty lips curl up in a smile that proves me magic exists.

My love, you’re my guardian angel, I promise you I’ll be yours.”

Those words. The sound of his voice pronouncing them. The slight, yet noticeable quiver at the end of his speech. They all bring that endearing wave of emotions back to your system. The image of Harry’s glossy eyes staring at you as he gave his speech gets glued in your head, and right away tears of bliss make their home at the corner of your eyes.

You feel something warm hit your temple. When you look up you meet a pouty Harry looking back at you.

“Ohh Sweetie, are you crying?” You say, wiping away some more tears making their way down his cheeks.

“I didn’t want to but… it’s just tha’… Pet, I’m so glad we got married”

SEND IN MORE FLUFFY/ ANGSTY CONCEPTS!

This is a masterlist to all the writing i’ve been posting ever since (New York, lol) I joined Tumblr. It’ll be updated everytime I post another imagine.

Happy reading! :)

HARRY STYLES:

1. I won. 2. Hearts don’t break around here. 3. Hideaway.  4. in our hearts. 5. Dreams do come true. 6. Daddy’s treasures. 7. Beautiful. 8. Promise (Part two). (requested)  9. Promise (Part one).  10. Cold days. 11. Mixed dates. 12. A sweet evening.

13. For your eyes only.

- Blurbs:

#1. “Let me kiss you”

#2. Two hearts in one home.

- Concept Nights:

#1. He hears you sing in the shower

#2. He breaks down in front of you

#3. You both star in the cover of a magazine.

NIALL HORAN:

1. Late night care. (requested)  2. The colours you brought me. (requested)

LIAM PAYNE:

1. Holding hands. (requested)

13 REASONS WHY:

1. Excuses - Jeff Atkins. 2. Justin Foley request. 3. Meant to be - Montgomery de la Cruz

PROMPT LIST:

#24. “Is that a tattoo?“ - Niall Horan

EXTRA:

Harry Edward Styles * Sighs * Okay but… I needed to let everything out Louis deserves all the love

Listen, I didn’t know how bad I needed this concept until i read your message! AJHAHGJ :)))

Okay, so the photoshoot is focused on fashion in couples. You’re supposed to do the shoot with another model but he has lost his flight to London and everyone’s freaking out because there’s no way the issue is released without a cover.

Harry’s with you on set. Between shots you glance at his excited figure running around the room. One time you see him going through the clothes hanging from the racks, giving you amusing looks whenever he finds anything with a tacky print that could fit him; and the other you notice the internal struggle he’s going through to keep his fanboy side under lock and key when he realises he’s standing beside one of the most important photographers of all times.

Through the lense. the photographer is able to detect something different about this photoshoot. He doesn’t have to tell you to grin or pose like this or that to achieve the message he wants to approach: cosiness and bliss. You’re indeed comfortable, you don’t need to smile to ooze that sense of confidence he requires. And he right away knows the reason why: Harry.

“Is there already a solution to Adley’s absence?” The middle-aged man asks “It’d be no use to take pictures of her if they aren’t going anywhere”

“No, not yet. But we need that photoshoot done today” Katia, Vogue’s manager, answers. “This is not a regular issue, it’s The September issue”

“I actually have an idea” Your faint voice interrupts their conversation. Both turn interested to you, their stares urging you to keep talking. “Maybe Harry can be my partner, well, he actually is but I mean for this photoshoot-”

“WHA’?” He yells from the catering, rushing to where you three are. You feel confident about the idea when you see the knowing smile the man is throwing you.

“Think about it. He’s got style, he’s good-looking, and he’s my actual boyfriend. That’s great because everything would be natural and the all the content in the issue would turn out to be genuine” Harry is shaking his head all flushed from behind Katia and the photographer. When they turn to him he quickly quits his actions, looking back at them awkwardly.

“I’m okay with it, they both would look cute, what do you think Thomas?” she asks the man beside her.

“I also agree”

Days after the launch of the issue Harry would be calling everyone he knows, bragging about his appearance on a worldwide magazine.

“Hey Gems, guess who’s all around the world in the cover of the most important issue in the fashion industry, looking fine as hell, but not as much as his girlfriend?” He asks, winking at you. You shake your head at him, smiling at the fondness it produces you to see him so thrilled.

His grin changes into an annoyed frown “Wha’ the… she hung up!”

He dials the number one more time.

“Harry, what do you want?”

“Why did you hung up,?”

“You’ve called four times already!”

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Owww my poor baby frog! :(((((

You’d sure notice a change in his usual perky personality. He’s distant, always lost in his thoughts. His slender fingers no longer play with the strands of your hair when you’re cuddling on the couch, trying to make the craziest hairstyles, instead, they now are invested in his pouty lower lip, tugging at it, a frown painted all over his countenance.

And even though he’s feeling nowhere near happy I’m sure he’d try his best to conceal his emotions when you’re around. A half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes every now and then, faked enthusiasm when telling you one of his jokes, numerous failed attempts of not getting carried away by his own thoughts whenever you two are holding a conversation; he thinks he’s getting away with it,

but you know better.

You wake up to an empty left side of the bed, Harry’s side. It’s four in the morning and despite your drowsiness you know why he isn’t laying beside you snoring into you ear, fanning his breath over your nape. You can’t continue giving him space.

Throwing on one of his plain white shirts, you leave your shared bedroom. You don’t need to think too much to know where he’s at. On your way to the garden through the dark rooms, you bump into a few of the furniture standing here and there. But eventually, helped by the shimmering moonlight, you’re able to spot Harry’s slightly bowed back, sitting on the ground.

You sit beside him, not uttering a single word. He no longer attempts to mask his emotions, he’s tired, jade orbs lost blankly in the horizon, not looking at anything really.

You pass your arm across his waist and bring him closer. He doesn’t resist it, he needs it. When you place a lingering kiss on his temple and whisper “Whatever it is it’ll get better. Baby, now I’m here, you’re not alone” he digs his teeth in his bottom lip, trying to hide its quivering.

Silence takes over. He’s putting all his thoughts in order as you wait patiently until he’s able to out his emotions.

“I’m scared. This is just so hard” 

There is no remain of his confident deep voice. Now it is soaked in fragility, fatigue, urgency. You feel your stomach twist when his misty eyes meet yours. You embrace him tightly, his head falls exhausted onto your shoulder and soon after you’re able to hear his mad sobbing, warm tears dampening part of the cotton fabric and the crook of your neck.

“What is it that has you like that? How long have you been bottling this up?” You asked concerned, caressing the curls hanging at the back of his neck.

“If people always made high expectations o’ me, with the solo album that has grown even wilder. It’s so fucking overwhelming. Everyone is assuming the record will be a masterpiece, but what if it’s not? What if it’s bullshit? What if I let everyone down? People is already saying it’s “the album of the year” for fuck’s sake! I-” He fumes in desperation.

“Shhh, calm down Baby, breathe” You hands run all over his back, trying to ease his nerves. Silence rules, where he takes a few deep breaths, before being in the condition of resuming his speech.

“I can’t handle this much pressure, this was supposed to be a journey i’d enjoy, not this crap. And yeah, I appreciate every kind word, I really do, but when it gets to the extent where assumptions are made it’s not healthy anymore”

“Har, I know it’s hard, To feel like having to reach everybody’s expectations must be really shitty. You gotta quit it… Are you proud of the album?”

“Yeah” He mumbles.

“Then you’ve already succeeded. This isn’t for the media or critics. This is for you. The album is a piece of yourself you’re putting out to the world so they know you better. If they know how to appreciate it that’s great, if they don’t then I’m sorry for them. What I mean with this is that you don’t have to let anything affect the way you feel about whatever you’re doing. What matters is that you are happy with what you’ve created. Don’t pay attention to assumptions. For some yours will be a great album, for others it won’t, but what really matters in here is you happiness”

His eyes are still swollen, but the crying has ceased. He comes out of the refuge he has found on the crook of your neck and gives you a small grin. Cupping your cheeks he brushes his plump lips against yours.

“I fucking love you so much. Thank you”

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