#darkharrystyles

Hey everyone, I just unleashed my new fanfiction into the wild! If you’ve got a minute, take a peek and let me know what you think. Dark Harry’s ahead. ;)

 conundrum (h.s.) (on Wattpad)

 https://www.wattpad.com/story/372359230-conundrum-h-s?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=Batman_woman8 

 Eliana Olsson lived a life woven with complexity, her morals firm, and her character forged through trials that shaped her deeply. She believed she understood her world - or at least knew how to navigate it. Then he arrived, his presence like a candle flickering in a still room, casting shadows that stretched and twisted her certainties. He was a riddle, born to test and unravel the foundations of everything she knew and trusted. He carried himself like a fleeting shadow of hesitation, the embodiment of unanswered questions. A conundrum is more than a simple puzzle; it's a delicate interplay between curiosity and uncertainty - a question that defies answers or offers far too many. Eliana soon realized he might destroy everything she had been or free her to become something entirely new. Can life really be more complicated than it already is? . . . . . . . . . 

 She moves to a new city with her family, leaving behind the shadows of a troubled past in search of something better. Together with her mother and younger sister, she strives to piece together a life that feels stable and secure-something they've never truly known. As she focuses on her studies and the pursuit of her dreams, the weight of untold stories and unresolved memories lingers in the background, waiting for the right moment to resurface. Her plan is to keep moving forward, but life and one curly haired boy seem to have their own...ideas. 

The air around me is crisp. The wind brushes my loose strands of hair over my eyes and I quickly reach up to push them behind my ear. My feet stand solid on the ground. Frozen in place as I watch everything I know go up in flames. I'm not sure how to feel. I'm uncertain whether I should be happy that all my childhood memories are being erased for me, or if I should feel devastated, heartbroken even that I'm watching all that's left of what once used to be my "happy" family melt away. Making me finally realize that what once was is no longer at reach to me. I would never be able to flip through the old photo albums I had stashed hidden under my floorboard. I would never be able to cling onto the light gray sweater I had shoved deep into my closet again. All the things I loved are now gone. Forced away from me once and for all. There was no more pretending that everything was fine. There was no more wishful thinking that maybe things will change and that things will go back to how they used to be.

All that will be left with me are my haunting memories and the ashes of my childhood. I guess now instead of allowing myself to live in a daydream I am forced to face reality. What will become of me now? Can I get away from this? Can I escape the nightmare I've been trapped in? Will I succumb to what I've tried so hard to avoid, or will I embrace this change and let it alter me into something better? That is if I'm even alive to reach this new undiscovered feeling nestling its way deep inside me. Like I said before... Am I happy? Am I devastated? Or am I just completely useless as I stand here and watch everything finally fall completely out of place?

Standing there as the wind whistles against my ear I let my feet sink further into the soft mud. I am frozen in place. Completely unsure of what is going to happen next, but there is one thing for certain. He's not going to be happy. He is not going to find this amusing. I will be punished. I feel the heat finally reach my body as the flames get hotter, brighter, and bigger. There's nothing left for me to do. I am being forced away as I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the disaster in front of me.

His grip on me becomes tighter as my body is pulled backward making me slightly trip and forcing me to finally look away and turn in the opposite direction. There's no turning back. There's no going back to how things used to be. My feet are forced to continue to take steps away from the only thing I've known. I am completely terrified of what is to come, but I keep quiet as I follow suit into the darkness as we leave everything behind.

I don't dare utter a word as we continue to make our way further into the unknown. His hand is not budging as I'm pulled closer to him. My mind is numb, but my heart aches for what I wish would be different. "I swear Raeelynn if you had anything to do with this." He whispers in a harsh tone as I'm thrown into the back of a car that is waiting at the end of the road.

Bracing myself, my hands catch my fall as I crawl into the backseat. Looking up to meet his stare all I see is dark. I've never seen them this dark. My stomach drops. I go to open my mouth, but quickly shut it as he raises his hand. A hard thud echo's into the small space. My face stings as the aftermath of his hand leaves a mark on my cheek. Tears slowly swell and tease their exit.

A/N This is my first attempt at smut yikes.

words: 1091

You and Harry have been married for six months and he doesn’t know how to tell you he wants to start a family. What he doesn’t know is that you want to start one too. You’ve always wanted to have his children. Not only did he have amazing genes, but he also had traits of a good dad. The both of you were financially stable and had a secure job. You couldn’t see any reasons why you and he couldn’t start trying now.

The both of you were in the family room watching the Blacklist, cuddled up to one another. He was in his sweats and you were in your skimpy nightgown. The usual. He had his arm wrapped around your waist as he rested his head on your chest, leaving small kisses here and there when he felt like it. You kept your fingers in between his hair, slowly massaging his scalp.

A/N my first time writing on Tumblr, I finally decided to give it a try. 

Words: 556

“Y/N, Do you think you’ll like Caitlin?” Harry asks me as we cuddle on his couch watching an old episode of Friends. 

Our cuddles do not necessarily have boundaries, however, we know that the intimacy we have is different if you were to cuddle with your boyfriend/girlfriend. Continuing off of that, it relates back to our whole friendship as well. Harry and I have been best friends since middle school. It was funny how everything started at first since he didn’t want to be friends with me.

Conundrum | h.s. (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/372359230-conundrum-h-s?  

Here's just the prologue :) If you like what you read, you can find more on Wattpad :) 

700 words

I guess at first I truly believed in the promise of new beginnings, but I should have known better. I am old enough to understand that life has a way of teaching us that things rarely end as they start.

And so, I tried to silence the ticking clock within me, pretending not to count the hours, the minutes, or the fleeting seconds of happiness I shared with you. 

I was afraid that if I let myself look too far ahead, I would never reach the years I dreamed of sharing with you.

In the end, those years never came, just as I somehow always knew they wouldn't.

If I were truly honest with myself, I would stop telling myself that we are meant to be, that it's only a matter of wrong timing.

I would stop imagining how beautiful things must have been for us in a past life, and how much more beautiful they could be in the next.

I would stop dreaming of what it might be like to have our things intertwined in the same closet, to stand together in front of endless shelves of groceries, deciding what to cook for dinner. I would stop picturing myself waiting for you to come home from work, secretly using your shampoo in the shower just to keep a part of you close—so that, in some way, you would never truly leave.

For my entire life, I've been certain of everything I do, every thought I think, and every feeling that overtakes my body. I've taught myself to see things in black and white—where everything I do is either completely wrong or completely right, and there is no middle ground.

I did it all for myself—I shaped my thoughts, forced myself into a way of thinking so I'd always be ready for whatever life might throw my way.

But I wasn't ready for you. 

I simply couldn't be. 

How do you prepare for something like that?

And now, after you, I find myself answering every question with the same hollow words: "I don't know.

"Do I believe in fate? Are we just a small part of something much larger? Does fate even exist, or is fate simply the sum of all the decisions we make?

Which choice is right, and which is wrong?

 Does such thing even exist? 

Is it possible to have multiple right answers, multiple wrong answers, to the same question?

You are my question.

The question that lingers in my throat, soft and heavy, stealing the air from my chest. The one that makes my heart ache and stutter, my eyes fill with tears, my whole body tremble under its weight.

My question—the one I can't let go of, the one I still don't have an answer to.

Since the day we stopped knowing each other, since the moment we became strangers, I've sat alone on the edge of my bed in a room untouched by light. I sleep with one eye open, eating instant noodles for what feels like the hundredth time, staring out the window as our park fades beneath winter's cold, indifferent blanket. I stand under the shower for hours, letting the water flow over me, as if it could wash away everything we once were.

And yet, no matter how hard I try, I can't stop asking myself:Why us?Why were we the ones chosen for this? Why did we choose this for ourselves?

What is it that walks along the paths of our hearts, bringing us together in this way? And what is it that quietly creeps down those very same paths, pulling us apart?

When the sun begins to fall asleep from my stories, when the night becomes sad, cold, and lonely because of them, when my eyelids can no longer bear the silence of truth—I swear, for just a moment, I see us again.

I see us sitting together on the balcony at three in the morning, the wind pinching our cheeks and slipping beneath our skin. We share only one blanket, and our cold, stiff fingers touch gently, warmed by nothing but a cigarette we share, like a kiss that never was.

The kiss that never was, that's what you called it.