#harry imagine

Requested: yes by @theflowersbloom​

A/N: I am so sorry if this is bad. I really wanted to write this request and I did my research because I was an uneducated fool. So I hope I did it justice and that I somehow informed you of asexuality. Always educated yourself before you write or post anything!

Pairing: reader & stranger to best friend!harry

Words: around 700 (it’s short I know I’m ashamed

Warning(s): asexuality (if that makes you uncomfortable for some reason, don’t read this)

“C’mon it will be fun!” your best friend Ava was trying to convince you to go to a frat party with her.
“And be in a room full of horny college boys and girls, I’d rather not.”
“But then I’ll be all alone, what if something happens to me?” Well… she’s got you there. Something always happened to Ava. Good or bad… mostly bad.
“Fine!” you give in after 5 minutes of arguing. Ava jumps up and cheers, already looking for an outfit that will impress the male population at the party later that night. You on the other hand, you were probably going to put on some shorts maybe a top maybe a shirt. As an asexual you didn’t really understand the whole dress to impress, you weren’t attracted to people by the way they look or the way they dress, so why not just dress for yourself.

–

At the party, you weren’t enjoying yourself one bit. Ava, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. Dancing with a few boys, making out with some, she literally turned heads ever since she walked in (which was probably her goal, you just weren’t informed on them). You had grabbed a drink when you walked into the house, sat yourself down on the couch and just watched people being … well people. To you it looked like a safari documentary, the male species being the hunters and the female’s representing the preys. It was strange, yet amusing to watch.
“So you’re all here by yourself?” a voice suddenly woke you from David Attenborough’s voice over.
“If that is some cheesy line to get me in your bed, it’s not working”, you informed the guy.
“You haven’t even looked at me.” At this you turned your head, looked him up and down like some frat boy and turned your head back.
“Now I did.”
“Yeah, so? You can see I’m like the hottest guy here right.” At this comment you can’t help yourself but scoff.
“Read my lips, buddy. I  a m  n o t  i n t e r e s t e d”, you slow it down for him so his drunk brain can comprehend the message better. He scoffs, throws his drink in your face and leaves you alone on the couch. It takes a moment before you realise what has happened and that you are covered in beer, everything reeks of it. You get up and try to find the nearest bathroom.
“Oh sorry, love.” You hear another male voice after you try to pull on a door that won’t budge. “I’ll be out in a jiffy then the bathroom is all yours.”
“Okay, thanks”, you say through the door. The guy comes out after 2 minutes and he gives you a certain look (or at least you thought that he was).
“Uhm… do you need help cleaning that?” he offers.
“That would be great actually.” For some reason you felt a platonic connection with this guy. You didn’t even know him but you just knew right there and then that this guy would become on of your bestest friends ever.

–

And how right you were. Three years later, here you guys are chilling on the couch while your other friends have left to go to a bar. At the party a few years back, where you met Harry, he helped you clean yourself and your clothes and offered you a ride home… in a none creepy stalker guy kind of way. He was actually very nice and very British and you were glad you met him when you did. You learned that you guys had a lot in common. You learned that he is a great supporter of the LGBTQ+ community and that he often protests just like you do. It didn’t take him long to accept that you were asexual and that you were struggling with your other friend to achieve that kind of support. Truth be told they just didn’t understand, so you were glad to have finally found the person who did.

Requested: yes by @theflowersbloom​

A/N: I am know I did this request already but I just wasn’t happy with how it turned out so I decided to write another. Always educated yourself before you write or post anything! I made the reader 20 because it goes with this piece.

Pairing: reader & bestfriend!harry

Words: 1k

Warning(s): asexuality (if that makes you uncomfortable for some reason, don’t read this), angst

You have been dating Ryan ever since you were thirteen, so for about seven years now. You were dating him because you fell in love with the romantic gestures he made towards you. At first they were small, you were only thirteen he couldn’t pay for a fancy restaurant, but he would carry your books to class. He would wait up after school and would walk you home, hands grazing against each other as you walked until he finally had to courage to grab yours. On prom night he picked you up, told you that you looked ‘absolutely stunning in that dress’ and after he brought you home he gave you a kiss on the cheek. It was so simple and you loved the fact that he didn’t book a hotel room like they did in the movies and forced you to have sex with him because to you it felt like you weren’t ready.

It took you to the end of freshman year in college to figure out that you were asexual and because of this sudden realisation you didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with Ryan. In your psychology class there was a guy who openly supports the LGBTQ+ community, you decided to trust a stranger and lay it on him. Lucky for you, he understood where you were coming from and told you that you could always talk to him.
From that day forward your friendship with Harry grew. Ryan was so jealous of your relationship with Harry that he decided he wanted more from you. He wanted to be shown that you loved him. That night he prepared dinner for you and him, a romantic dinner by candle light. He laid rose petals from his front door to the kitchen and chose your favourite wine to go with the dinner.
“Ryan?” you called as you opened his front door with the key that he gave you 3 years ago when he moved into his own place.
“I’m in the kitchen, bunny.” Bunny, your nickname, which he chose because when you laugh you scrunch up your nose like a bunny and Ryan thought it was adorable.
You then notice the rose petals on the floor and your heart melts over the romantic gesture. You quickly made your way to the kitchen and almost started crying at the sight.
Once you were both seated, you both opened your mouths to say something.
“Look, I..” Ryan started.
“Listen, I gotta…” You giggle. “Sorry, you go first.”
“Look, I have thought about this for a while now and I think we’re ready for the next step in our relationship.” This scared you.
“Oh.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say about this?” He started to get a little angry.
“Maybe I should have gotten first…” you trail of, ignoring his change of behaviour. “I’m asexual. I have been for a long time… I just didn’t know how to tell you and then I got scared. But I’m not sorry because this is the way that I am. And I am not sexually attracted to you.. or to anyone.” You ramble and stop once you’ve realised that Ryan turned into a statue. He doesn’t move, you hope he’s still breathing.
“Is it because of that guy Harry?” He then asks after a few minutes.
“What? Why would this have to do with Harry. I just told you I am not sexually attracted to you or anyone… how does Harry have anything to do with this?”
“Because you actually like him, you love him right?! YOU DON’T WANT TO SLEEP WITH ME BUT YOU WANT HIM?!” He suddenly raises his voice and starts shouting horrible things at your that you don’t understand.
“What?! NO! Do you even know what asexual means?!” You scream at him. “It means that I am not sexually attracted to people. It means that I don’t give them one look and I want to sleep with them. Harry is my friend and he has nothing to do with this situation. He helped me understand who I am. He was the only person I could trust because I didn’t understand it myself. He will always be my friend and nothing more.” You explain.
“So you’ll never sleep with me?” A reasonable question, not the one you had expected.
“I’m not saying no but I won’t sleep with you just for the sake of sleeping with you. I’m romantically attracted to you. I love the thing we have going on now.”
“To be honest with you, I don’t. I want something more out of this. I need something more out of this”, Ryan says and put his head in his hands.
“Are we… uhm.. are we breaking up?” You ask with a wavering voice. You are so close to tears.
“I think we are.”

You can’t really remember what happened after that, everything is such a blur. Here you are, crying your eyes out on Harry’s sofa.
“I feel so guilty like I have been withholding him from have sex.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty. He didn’t know, heck you didn’t even know who you were. You should never feel guilty for being yourself!” It almost sounded like he was scolding you. “You are a beautiful individual inside and out. One day you will find someone who is right for you and who you are right for. Ryan wasn’t.. yet he came onto your path so you could find out who you are. Look at it from the bright perspective.” Somewhere inside you knew that he was right, still it hurt to know that the person you loved couldn’t love you back as the person you had become.

Requested: no

A/N: Based on Five more minutes by the Jonas Brothers.

Pairing: Y/N & Harry Styles

Words: 800

Warning(s): fluffy af and some smut because why not

Mornings are always difficult for you because you are not a morning person but your job requires you to wake up at 5.30. And the thing that makes it even harder for you to leave your bed in the morning is Harry. He comes home late at night and wraps himself around you, not that you are complaining you love cuddling with him, and you always cuddle into him. It’s so warm and cosy in bed that you don’t want to leave to get to your job (that you are not enjoying).
This Saturday it’s the same story. Your alarm clock wakes you up. For some reason, Harry always sleeps through it, how is a mystery to you. You turn in Harry’s arms and carefully pull the blanket from your body, exposing it to the cold morning air. As you sit up you feel to arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you back to the bed.
“Don’t go”, you hear a groggy voice say. You kiss him on his forehead and wait till you think he has fallen asleep again then you try to get up for the second time.
“No, please don’t go, love”, you hear him say, “five more minutes”. You really have to get up but you can’t say no to the vulnerable Harry laying here before you.
“Alright, five more minutes.” You lay on your side, you face facing his. He pulls you in for a kiss, ugh how could you say no to this. After five minutes of cuddling… well more like five minutes of smooching you pull back, ready to face the day ahead.
“No, baby, please. I’m not finished loving you.” He pulls on your arm.
“Harry, you can love me when I get back okay?” You say a little sternly. You can’t risk getting late, this would be the third time in the past month.
“But you just look so good right now. I cannot fathom letting you leave and I know that you’ve got important places to be. But please, baby, not yet”, this side of Harry only comes out once every blue moon. The whiny begging side, the one that makes you knees weak.
“I can’t, Harry, I’m gonna be so late!”
“Give me five more minutes. I think I ould make it worth your while. I know you don’t like being late but please, please, say yes. I need you so much right now.” He sits up straight, looking you in the eyes, his hair is all over the place he looks like a hot mess. A mess you would love to play around in but you can’t. You subconscious is screaming at you to go to the bathroom, shower and get going. However, your heart is saying “STAY!”.
“Okay, you have five minutes.” You quickly jump into the bed. Harry straddles you and starts kissing your neck and undressing you at the same time.
“Now you don’t have to get undressed, see you’re already saving time.” You roll your eyes. His kissing moves from your neck down your stomach to your underwear. He kisses over them.
“Please Harry”, you beg.
“Alright, love. Begging me already.” He smirks, feeling very cocky and confident as you crumble underneath him. “You want me to?” he asks.
“Please.”
“Not the right word, love.”
“Yes.” Is all you have to say before his fingers slip in and his tongue starts dancing around your clit. You grab his curls in your hands, he moans against you and you already feel like you’re close.
“Yes, Harry, yes. Oh my God, yes”, you moan.
“Are you close?” he asks, as he feels you clenching around his fingers. You moan, not trusting your voice. “I need you to use your words, love.”
“Yes, Harry. Please”, you say as you come undone. You lay there for a second and Harry kisses you passionately.
“I told you I was going to make it worth your while.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, starting you back up again.
“You know what. I’m just going to call in sick today”, you state as you grab your phone.
“No, you are not. You can still make it in time.” He pushes you out of the bed.
“But I wanna stay here with you, please. I can help you and you can help me again. And maybe we can shower together and make breakfast together”,  you start to sum up. Not meaning any of it and implying other activities. Harry is not oblivious to this and his eyes start to darken again.
“Yeah, you know what. Call in sick and call in sick for tomorrow because you are not going to be able to walk tomorrow”, he says as he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom.

Requested: no

A/N: Honestly, it has nothing to do with dad!harry.

Pairing: reader & Harry Styles

Words: 1334

Warning(s): swearing

You were on holiday with your parents in Thousand Oaks. Your parents wanted a nice vacation with everything inside the hotel so they chose to stay at the Four Seasons. However, after a week of staying by the pool and having drinks at the hotel bar, you got bored. You desperately wanted to go to the beach but your parents weren’t letting you go, treating you like a baby. As if you were still twelve, no you were a twenty-three year old woman… on holiday with her parents.
After three days of asking, they finally agreed to let you go but they would come along with you. You had two options, one was to complain over the fact that they wouldn’t let you go alone, or two, you could just stay quiet and be happy that you were going to see the sea from up close.

The next day it’s was finally time for the beach. You put on your favourite bikini and grab your bag to put in your sandals, towel and your tan lotion. You put on your flipflop, for some reason you always pack shoes that you should walk in even though you are going with your parents. There is a little sprinkle of hope that you can somehow evade your dad’s watch of you 24/7. You desperate want to show them that you are not a little kid anymore but you have no clue how to do this.
The drive to the beach wasn’t long but you were happy that you were out of the car, man that was hot. You and your parents find a spot on the beach that wasn’t too crowded and laid your towels down. After sunbathing, you went for a swim in the ocean with your mother while your dad guarded the stuff you had brought. When you got back from your swim, you noticed that your dad fell asleep, your mother was laying on her stomach with her head facing away from you so you used the window that had just opened itself up, to leave for a bit and explore the beach. It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying yourself but you felt like you needed a little ‘you-time’.

You had been walking for at least 15 minutes when you noticed that this part of the beach seemed less busy than where you and your parents were laying. A few feet away from you, you notice a guy struggling with a whole bunch of watermelons. Being raised to help those in need (take this however you’d like), you ran over to the guy.
“Hey, you need any help?” you ask him, scaring him a little almost causing him to drop one.
“No, sorry this is a closed set. I can’t let you in here”, he says while he hoists up a watermelon that is escaping his grip.
“C’mon you obviously need help. Look I didn’t even know there was anything going on here. I’m not trying to break in, I just wanna help”, you offer again. He sighs in defeat.
“Alright, grab this one.” You hold out your hands and he drops the watermelon. He is still carrying three. “Through here”, he nods to the gate. “Hey Gary, she’s with me, thanks.” This Gary figure holds up the rope as we walk underneath. Now you start to notice the scene in front of you, there are vans everywhere, models running around and cameras.
“Wow.” Is all you can say.
“Right, this set is not even the craziest one I have been to. It’s just Harry, a bunch of models and watermelons on a beach. Last time we had an artist come over and do all these rivers and waterfalls and stuff, and the crazy part is that that video never came out. So much money went into that, holy shit.” This guy just keeps running his mouth. You realise that you never asked for his name. “Oh just drop the watermelon here.” He points to a basket and you carefully place it in there not wanting to ruin it.
“Hey, I’m sorry but you are not supposed to be here. This is a closed set.” You hear a voice say, he’s got an accent, you think to yourself.
“No worries, Haz. She’s with me”, the nameless guy says to this Haz person.
“Hi, I’m Y/N but everyone calls me baby… at least they would if I knew everyone.” Would have sounded so cool but instead your brain had a fart and all you could say was “I carried a watermelon.”
Oh my God!, you think to yourself, is that really all you can say right now. During your brain fart you had turned around and once you saw the person that belonged to the voice, you declared to yourself that he was the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your entire life.
“Alright, well please leave as soon as possible. Tai here will show you out.”
“Great, well good luck on the video? I guess, is what you are doing here. I’m sure it’ll turn out great”,  you say and start to walk away.
“No, wait… hold on for a second”, the Haz person grabs your arm and pulls you back. “You don’t know who I am do you?” You shake your head. “Would you actually like to be in the video?”
“I don’t know, I actually have to get back to my parents… I’m sure they’re looking for me right now.”
“How about just one shot. The ending.” This guy almost sounds like he’s begging you to be in the video.
“Alright, one shot. If it doesn’t turn out the way you want it too, I’ll be leaving anyways.” He quickly nods and walks away, realising that you aren’t following and turns around again.
“Are you coming?” You quickly make your way over to where he is standing. “Alright, so we are going to be standing here and you’d just have to eat a piece of waterme- wait you’re not allergic are you?” You shake your head. “So just eat a piece of watermelon and smile towards… that camera”, he says and he tries to figure out which camera. “After that guy yells something, you throw away the watermelon and you would have to put your head on my shoulder and your right hand on my stomach and slide down. Would that be okay with you? If it’s not than that would also be okay, and I would ask someone else.”
“It’s fine”, you say. You don’t want to objectify the man but he is looking so fine. The tattoos are definitely a turn on.
“Okay. It’s a go.” He gives a thumbs up to the camera man, he yells a bunch of stuff. All the people get ready for the shot and you do exactly as you were told. This whole experience felt like a fever dream. You were surrounded by a whole bunch of gorgeous people and all because you carried a watermelon for someone.
“CUT!” the camera man yells and everyone cheers. “It’s a wrap!”
“Thank you so much for wanting to do this”, he says. You were still not sure on his name, he realises this too. “I’m Harry by the way. Harry Styles.”
“I’m Y/N.” You shake his extended hand. “I really have to go now but thank you so much for the experience.”

You run as fast as you can back to where your parents are panicking. They yell at you for ‘running away’, grab their stuff and start walking back to the car. You know that you are going to regret leaving your parents without warning because they are really going to be babying you for the rest of the holiday. However, when you put your hands into the pockets of your shorts, you notice a piece of paper.

Call me sometimes. XXX-XXX-XXX

All the love. Harry x

And all the regret you were feeling, floats away like the waves crashing on the shore.

Requested? Yes, Band!y/n.

A/N: I have no idea if this was meant as a Y/N is in Harry’s band or as in Y/N has her own band, so here is my spin on this request. Not my best work I gotta be honest. I also used Scotty Sire’s past life as their song.

Pairing: Y/N & Harry Styles

Words: 1143

Warning(s): swearing

“How’s the writing going?” Coco, your band mate, asks as she walks into the studio. You groan and sigh, “So fucking awful. I literally have no inspiration what so ever.”
“Can’t we just order food and let that inspire us,” Lou suggests… classic Lou always thinking about food.
“No, we need to focus ladies. Our new album isn’t going to write itself!” Ruby says firmly. “If we don’t make a bomb ass second album, we are D-O-N-E, done.” You drop the pen on the table in front of you and stand up from the couch.
“Ladies, I suggest a karaoke night. Maybe we’ll get inspiration there, nothing bad ever happened on karaoke night!” To be really honest, you were just hoping you would run into him again. A few weeks ago on a Wednesday, you met a guy. He was great, he was a fan but not one of those crazy ones. For some reason it felt like you have known him your whole life, he looked so familiar but you couldn’t place it. Today is Wednesday, so here you were hoping faith would bring you two together and maybe you could put that into a song and make some money of those feeling you were having.
“You know what? That’s a great idea, let’s get some noodles at that place too, I am starving!” Lou stood up as well and started gathering her things.
“Yes, RAD on tour!… well RAD on karaoke night, God that doesn’t sound as catchy does it?” Coco says and chants ‘RAD on tour’ all the way to the karaoke bar. The taxi driver was probably very pleased that it was only 15 minutes away (we tipped him extra).

Coco ran to a booth screaming, we pretended not to know her but when you end up sitting at the same booth… it’s kind of inevitable.
“I was thinking The 1975, Me & You together song?” Coco suggests. Ruby shakes her head, “How about some drinks first?” You immediately jump up, “Great idea, I’m gonna go to the bar and order us some.” And you walk off, the last time he was sitting by the bar, ugh you are so stupid not to ask for his name! But alas, he wasn’t there on Wednesday and you girls went home early not feeling inspired at all.

That night you had a dream about a melody, you woke up and grabbed your guitar that was next to your bed. This was it, this was the song.
The morning after, you girls were back into the studio. You played the melody for the girls and they all loved it. After that the lyrics came rather quickly.

Three months later, RAD was on tour (just like Coco had chanted on the way to the Karaoke bar). Tonight you were playing in Amsterdam and oh how excited you were. This venue was the biggest you girls have ever played and even though you were excited, the four of you were nervous, pants-shitting wrecks all day long. You tuned your guitar again, you honestly couldn’t remember how many times you had already tuned it for. That was until your stage crew took the guitar from you to actually make it sound good. Tonight you were performing the new song for the first time and even though the boy wouldn’t be here, it still felt like he would hear it. Well, I mean he would because you know… these things are posted online and such but you get the gist.

“Five minutes!” A voice suddenly pulls you out of your daydream. You look around and the other girls are no where to be found. Oh no, this can’t be happening. You run out of the room where you had been sitting, only to find all the girls standing backstage with their mic packs on.
“There you are, c’mon where almost on!” Lou yells in excitement and stress.
“Alright, alright. Slow down.” The stage crew attaches your mic pack and then you hear the intro play. The girls go on stage one by one, right on cue. You can hear the applause and feel the adrenaline soaring through your body. ‘Alright, you got this’ you say over and over again, hyping yourself up as if you’re going to a boxing match. You hear your cue and walk on, not looking up until you’re right in front of your mic.

“When we met, if felt like a rewind,” you start of. The music stops for a second and you can hear the screams. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it the whole night.” Again the music stops and you finally look up and over the crowd. “Somethin’ tells me this ain’t the first time.” You look around the first row, almost searching for him even though you know he’s not. “Somethin’ tells me I met you in a past life.” Suddenly the stage lights turn on and you start the song for real.
“You might not remember, our souls are locked together. Anywhere, anytime. It’s you and I forever.” That’s when you look eyes with his. You almost want to laugh out loud at the ridiculous fanfic written way of meeting. But he is actually there, he came all the way from London just to watch you and your band, (more you though). You almost have to force yourself to continue singing because you are taken aback and the air had left your lungs. “I swear we must’ve been reincarnated. I can’t take it, watchin’ you play with the fate the universe gave us. I know they call it déjà vu but I just know that we made it.” You look over the Ruby and she gives you a concerned look. You nudge with your eyes to where the guy is standing and she understands it’s all good.
 “It’s you and I forever.” And with that the song fades away. “How are you guys doing tonight?!” you scream over the mic. “Amsterdam let me hear you scream!” You turn the mic towards the crowd. “Wow, you guys are so loud. It’s unbelievable. Welcome to our show, this is our first show of the ‘RAD on tour’ tour, thank you for being our first I can already feel that tonight is gonna be awesome. That was a new song, I wrote it a couple of months back. You see I met this guy and I felt like I knew him before I knew him, y’know. So, I mean, he probably knows who he is. I believe he is here tonight, I think I saw him. If it’s really you, please find me after the show because I don’t want to play with the fate the universe gave us. Alright, I’ll stop rambling on now. Again, thank you guys so much for coming, enjoy the show, be yourself. Here’s ‘Here’s to us!’.”

This was requested by anonymous.

A/N: Based on Being alive by Raúl Esparza from the musical Company. I have never seen this musical or heard the song before so I really hope that I did it justice and that the person who requested this is happy with the end result.

Pairing: Y/N & Harry Styles

Words: 843

Warning(s): light swearing, mentions of drug use

Harry always convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone in his life other than his friends and family and sure it got lonely sometimes but he would be so happy to get home after a night out and be all by himself. Sure he dated a few women in the past but those relationships all had their problems. So he decided after his last relationship ended that he would be fine on his own.

Even if his friends all got engaged, married and had children, Harry did not feel lonely at all. It wasn’t like he had a different woman in his bed every night but he was enjoying life as it came.
And yet here he was, on Mitch’s birthday surrounded by couples and their children and oh Mylanta did he feel lonely. He stayed for a few hours and then visited his best friend Louis. Louis’ also had a child, who was currently at his mother’s house (Louis’ ex-wife). He and Louis often smoked pot when his son wasn’t there and talked about life as if they couldn’t do it sober.
“Do you know what you want for your birthday?” It wasn’t a heavy question but in Harry’s mind it carried something. It was indeed a loaded question. What did he want? Did he need something?
“Honestly, I have no clue.” And it was true, he had no idea want he wanted not for his birthday, not even in his life.
“Holy Moses dude, you’re turning 30 this year. Maybe we should find you a lady,” Louis said as he blew out the smoke and handed the joint to Harry. Harry took it, but instead of taking a drag he answered, “Oh please, not this again. I am fine on my own!”
“Are you though?” Louis was not trying to be rude and offend Harry on the contrary he was so worried that his friend would end up alone, it was truly an honest question.
“I don’t know, Louis.”
“Because the way I see it, Harold, is that you’ve got so many reasons for not being with someone, but you haven’t got one good reason for being alone.” God, Harry hated when Louis was right.
“Well you see, sometimes I do wish I had someone to hold. Someone who knows you so well inside and out. Someone to care for and who cares for me.” Louis just stayed still as Harry rumbled on. “Someone you have to let in, someone whose feelings you spare.”
“Harry, how do you know so much about it when you’ve never been there?”
“Because I see it around me all the time, Lou. Everyone I know is either engaged, married or have kids.”
“It’s so much better living it than looking at it, Harry. But you were onto something, continue,” Louis says as he gives Harry the hand gesture to continue. Harry continued to name what he was looking for in a person. It had to be someone who would crowd him with love, who would force him to care, someone who would always be there. Someone who was as frightened as him of being alive, feeling alive. As he was listing his wishes, he realised that he shouldn’t be afraid of going out there and letting people it.

“You know, alone is alone, not alive,” he suddenly said more to himself than to Louis who by this point was too far gone to even know what was going on. Harry decided that it was time to head home and maybe be alone with his thoughts some more.

That weekend was his birthday, him and his friends went out for dinner before heading to their local pub. It was close to 12 o’clock and most of his friends had already went home. Gosh, he really started to feel old. It definitely wasn’t like it was before when they would all stay out till the sunrise and go home completely hammered. It dawned on him even more that he didn’t want to end up alone and even though he was only thirty, he was also that ‘thirty’, he wasn’t going to get any younger.
“Congratulations.” He suddenly heard a voice behind him, he was sat on a barstool and bend over his drink to even notice anything going on. He turned around and was met by a woman. “I saw the balloon, so I thought I come and say congratulations. Unless of course, it’s not your birthday and you are just holding onto that balloon for a friend or something… but you looked so sad and alone and then I thought maybe I could give you some company so you don’t have to be alone on your birthday if it turns out that it is, in fact, your birthday,” she rambled.
“Yeah, hi, yeah well thanks yeah. Hi, I’m Harry.” He held his hand out for her to shake.
“Haha, hi I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.” And boy was his mother right. You receive what you send out to the world and he just got lucky.

A/N: Okay, so I was listening to the Frozen 2 songs (as one does) and I found this song that wasn’t in the movie. And I got this idea for a story from it, so this isn’t 100% me. But it gave me some awkward Harry proposing vibes, so here you go. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Pairing: Y/N & Harry Styles

Word Count: around 1k

Warning(s): none

Harry had been planning this night for a while now, in fact he had tried to propose to you three times now. Although every time that he wanted to, something came up or he forgot what he was saying or he got so nervous that he got sick and you had to end the night early. He had never been this much in love before and it was safe to say that he had no clue what he was doing.
Right now, you were at your best friend’s wedding. The entire night her family had been telling you that you would be next. At some point you got a little angry at them and found a quiet place for yourself to get away from the ‘fortune tellers’.
“Hey baby, what are you doing here by yourself?” A familiar voice came up from behind.
“I just needed to get some air”, you said, “and-”, but you decided to stop there. Not wanted to scare Harry about getting married. Not that you didn’t want to, oh no, you have been waiting for him to propose actually. There were a few times where you thought he would ask you, but those nights never ended with him on one knee and a ring around your finger.
“Well you know, Y/N. I-”, Harry took a deep breath. Somehow the tone in his voice sounded like he wanted to break up. “I, uhm, it’s not you, it’s me.” Yup, there it is, that’s how all good things end. “The timing and the setting aren’t what I thought they’d be. There’s probably someone better for you out there anyway. Maybe I just need some space”, he rambled. Right now, you were keeping quiet. He stood up quickly, but then turned around and mumbled to himself, “No, I should just come out and say … I wanna get this right, baby. I wanna thrill you in the way you deserve. I’m just havin’ trouble gettin’ up the nerve.” He took a deep breath.
“I wanna make you swoon, baby. I wanna rock you with my righteous romance. I wanna set he mood, darling. But I’m sweatin’ through the seat of these pants.” By now he was walking around as he rambled on.
“Harry, love, are you okay?” you ask very concerned. You had never seen him in this state before.
“Y/N, I tried to do this so many times but I always feel so stupid. Like I had planned to read a poem, but I lost it. And then I tried to sing you a song, but I forgot the words. And ooh, here’s a thing. Last time I forgot to bring the ring. So this went very well… I didn’t get this right.” With that he left you alone on the bench and ran back inside. At this point you were very confused. You had no clue what just happened but in all honestly you didn’t have the time to wrap your head around it. Because before you knew it you were running after Harry.
“Baby, it’s okay, come back!” You shouted, with no luck. All the attention that you attracted was from the guests at the wedding and not from your boyfriend, the one you were actually shouting at. While looking for him in the ballroom, you ran into your best friend.
“Y/N, what’s going on?” She asks you and grabs you by your shoulders, forcing you to stop and breath for a second.
“I- uh, I am looking for-. Have you seen Harry?” You are looking around the room, but you couldn’t see his curly mop anywhere.
“Yeah, he is talking to TJ. Why?”
“I was sitting outside and he came to see me and then he started saying that it wasn’t me but it was him. So I thought he wanted to break up and then he started talking about all the times that he had tried something and I didn’t get it but then he said last time he forgot the ring, so now I am thinking he wanted to propose to me. But then I wanted to talking to him but he ran off”, You start to ramble as you try to wrap your head around the current events.
“Well you-,” she starts but gets cut off by someone talking into a mic. That someone of course, was Harry.
“I am sorry for before. I’m freezing up, I’m blowing it – not what I meant to do. I know how crazy lucky I am to love you. Gorgeous, funny, brave and brilliant, beautiful, won’t-give-up-on-anyone you. And I wanna get this right. I wanna love you in the best way I can. And I wanna make you cry, but in a good way! By proving I could be your perfect man. I meant to write it in the sky. I meant to get down on one knee. I planned to really try to be the opposite of me. But, Y/N, I will love you with all my might. I promise you, in here,” he pointed at his chest, “I’ve got that part right. At first I thought maybe we should do this on some other night.” By now he walked from the stage, to where you and your friend are standing.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” you cried.
“You’ve got that right, baby,” and he got down on one knee and pulls the ring out (that he forgot TJ kept in his pocket at all times), “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me? I’m gonna be the man you want.”
“Oh Harry, guess what? You already are. Of course I will marry you!” He slide the ring on your finger and gets up to kiss you. “We got the hard part over with,” he jokes as the crowd cheers for you. All you both could think about was how happy you were in the moment and how you’re going to celebrate it tonight.

HI! I am so sorry for no new updates lately but please send in your requests or questions and tell me if you want a part 3 to dirty little secret I love you guys so much - H

A room, a big room full of screaming girls and a few boys. Some are screaming some are crying some look as if they might pass out. It’s something your used you though you are dating Luke Hemmings the lead singer of one of the biggest “boy bands” in the world. After four years of dealing with this it has no effect on you. You have put up with all of it and you were very used to it. You headed backstage to go find your boyfriend and his band mates.

You walk through the door leading to the main dressing rooms. You are looking in the big room but can’t seem to see anyone, the only thing you can hear is your breath. “Boo” a voice says from behind you. You turn around quickly a smile finding a way on to your face as the doorway behind you shows the one and only Luke. “ you’re so stupid” you say giving him a light push on his shoulder. “I have to go on in 2 minutes you stay back here and chill out” he says grabbing your hands.“okay I’ll see you later” you say standing on your tip toes and giving him a peck on the cheek.

About 30 minutes into the show you hear a noise that sounds like things shutting down,and then the scream of thousands of girls. The room you’re standing in suddenly fills with darkness. “What’s happening” you whisper to your self. Reaching to grab your phone from your pocket only to be lifted in the air. “ WHAT THE FUCK” you say moving with all the strength you have. You are put in a chair scared out of your mind.

All of a sudden you hear music playing a song you’ve never heard before the room is lit up by a screen behind you and screams of teenage girls fill your ears. On the screen it pictures and videos of you and Luke from your first date till up till last night. Luke appears out of now where and gets one one knew in front of you. You cover your mouth with your hands not believing what was going to happen next. “ Y/N Y/L/N you have made the last four years of my life amazing and I can’t thank you enough I have been planning this out for a while,I know I always said I never want marriage cause I was scared of commitment but you’ve changed my perspective on that. So with this ring I would like to ask you will you marry me?” Luke says looking up at you with hopeful eyes. “Yes oh my gosh yes” you say between sobs. He slides the ring down your finger causing you to smile. He grabs you and kisses you deeply. He stands you both up and hold your arm in the air “SHE SAID YES” he screams into a microphone and the crown goes wild making you know this is just the start.

part 1,part 2,part 3,part 4,part 5,part 6,part 7 (1),part 7 (2),part 8,part 9,part 10,part 11,part 12,part 13,part 14,part 15,part 16,part 17,part 18,part 19,part 20,part 21,part 22

Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home… ;)

Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.

Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars. 

Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world. 

Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it. 

“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue…” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.

It was a full moon that night. 

Just like it was tonight. 

There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny. 

Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone. 

They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game. 

Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now. 

But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”

His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch. 

“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself. 

Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.” 

Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this. 

“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?” 

“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.” 

“This is more than a scrape.” 

He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered. 

“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol. 

Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?” 

I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.

“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.  

I looked at him, skeptically.

“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified. 

And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything. 

“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned. 

Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.” 

The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them. 

I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second. 

For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him. 

Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-” 

A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.  

I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.

“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question. 

“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?” 

My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.

Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.” 

“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.” 

“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it. 

Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now. 

But I couldn’t sit around anymore. 

I needed to do something. 

Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full. 

We didn’t speak.

I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.

And still the clock ticked. 

I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head. 

One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whooshof releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.  

Lionel looked at it briefly. 

The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away. 

Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh. 

They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won. 

Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this. 

He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive. 

When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry. 

It was the longest night I’d ever had. 

But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.  

——

“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.” 

And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.  

“Why was it so long?” 

I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted. 

Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles? 

Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.” 

“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.” 

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison. 

His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.

“Yeah, because youquit your PT job.” 

“I got a new one!” 

“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?” 

I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.  

He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin. 

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly. 

I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me. 

“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off. 

They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement. 

“We’ve both been busy,” I said. 

“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.” 

“You can say hickey, Matt.” 

His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.

“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“C’mon. Harry Styles.” 

“And?” 

He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.” 

“So?” 

“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?” 

I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.” 

He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.” 

He was smart not to. 

“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place…” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes. 

I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished. 

I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.” 

“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.” 

“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.” 

Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.

“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely. 

The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.

“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”  

I swallowed, hard. I deserved that. 

And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving. 

Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both. 

She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates. 

The room seemed cold. 

“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor. 

“Mom, I told you I’d do that.” 

“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before. 

She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me. 

I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.

“What?” I asked.

“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.” 

My brows scrunched. “What?” 

“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.” 

“Who?” 

“A waitress.” 

“A waitress?” 

“Nicole the waitress.”

“How do you know it was her?” 

“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”

“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue. 

“Still fifteen years younger than me.” 

My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mommade me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other. 

“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.

Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.

“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.” 

“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”  

She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”  

“Women’s intuition?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be… shocked. If it’s true. I mean…a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?” 

But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no. 

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.

“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…” 

“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?” 

I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?” 

Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up. 

“Mom, seriously whatare you talking about?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-” 

“Mom,who?”

“Harry, honey.” 

She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again. 

“I’m sure he liked it,” I said. 

“It’s an older home…he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further. 

“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.

Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of  my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity. 

Family was a constant.  

I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open. 

“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?” 

I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything. 

Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word. 

She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said. 

She didn’t even try. 

Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light. 

Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core. 

—–

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase. 

My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.

Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.   

Regardless… 

“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?” 

“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs. 

I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart. 

Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked. 

Pale. 

A clay boy. 

A stitched up doll. 

And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.

I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here. 

Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last. 

“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me. 

When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting. 

“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest. 

Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful. 

I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping. 

If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.

“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.” 

His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them. 

“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.” 

The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why. 

My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.

“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling. 

His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.

“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.” 

“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body…

A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.

“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”  

“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”

His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.” 

The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.” 

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.

“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.” 

“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.” 

“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’tprotect yourself.” 

“That isn’t going to happen again.” 

“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want…” 

A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened. 

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.” 

The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.

“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.” 

My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance. 

“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie. 

I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart. 

Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.

“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to. 

“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.

“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more. 

My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.” 

He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became. 

“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-” 

I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”  

But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could  argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?

He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late. 

“It is,” he said. No room for argument.

“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”

His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.

I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away. 

I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent. 

“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.

“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”

He growled. “I don’t care.” 

And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.

I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.” 

It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light. 

“Do you miss her?” 

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me. 

My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.

In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side. 

We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…

“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn’t any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.  

But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core. 

My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-

“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.  

“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.  

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.

I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.” 

With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.  

“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose. 

“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled. 

But I realized the voice was me. 

The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors. 

“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!” 

Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable. 

But Harry seemed unphased. 

“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her. 

“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.  

“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to. 

“Where in the closet?” 

“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.” 

But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands. 

Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage. 

I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.

There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet. 

Frick.

I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all. 

I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a livingroom. 

Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them. 

Bingo.

They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years. 

My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone. 

I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century. 

Since the seal was already broken… 

My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans. 

Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely. 

Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation. 

More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask. 

For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.

Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything. 

The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.

There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.

I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.

Oh, God.

Oh, Harry. 

How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?

Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil. 

I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far. 

So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first. 

A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there. 

I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.  

If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors. 

He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers. 

“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear. 

He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably triedto forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare. 

“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.” 

As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch. 

I felt my heart lurch in my throat. 

“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow. 

come talk about frat boy! or if you just wanna talk… i’m getting tired of talking to my dog lmao

weeklyfangirl:

part 1,part 2,part 3,part 4,part 5,part 6,part 7 (1),part 7 (2),part 8,part 9,part 10,part 11,part 12,part 13,part 14,part 15,part 16,part 17,part 18,part 19,part 20,part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well… here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

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weeklyfangirl:

part 1,part 2,part 3,part 4,part 5,part 6,part 7 (1),part 7 (2),part 8,part 9,part 10,part 11,part 12,part 13,part 14,part 15,part 16,part 17,part 18,part 19 ,part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

—————————————————————–

Things I want:

1. Live a life that helps others
2. Financial freedom
3. Experience a great love
4. Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy
5. To have more dreams and fewer nightmares
6. Doodle more
7. Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch
8. To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I usedto draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

 “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

A flying toenail hit my eye. 

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