author’s note: A quick shoutout to @iloveyouhaz because I submitted a part of this story to her and she was kind enough to read it and give me feedback! Hope y’all enjoy! P.S: I had the song ‘Sick of Losing Soulmates’ by Dodie Clark on repeat while writing this, so give it a listen while you read! You can find it here.
summary: Harry has an imaginary friend called Y/N
Even as a child, Harry was introverted. While the other
children his age would be out and about playing, he preferred to stay in the
comfort of his bedroom, spending time with his imaginary friend Y/N.
I don’t wanna be the grumpy teenager/adult with nostalgia goggles on 24/7 who hates everything new and different, but I miss cartoons with sharp edges and thick outlines. I hope that kind of style makes a comeback one day.
There are two little boys outside my apartment building playing Captain America and Winter Soldier, and – I’m not even IN MCU fandom, but this seems very accurate – they are just taking turns carrying each other to an imaginary safe-zone, bridal style.
“Hi, I was just wondering whether I could submit a request for a fanfic. I would do it with the requests tab but it’s quite a long descriptive request. Of course you have creative licence my love! But I love your writing so much so I know that you’ll do it justice!”
Aesthetics requested :
Thank you so much for the request! This is my first blurb try. Like I mentioned previously, english isn’t my native language, I’m sorry in advance if there’s some mistakes! I hope you like it, it’s quite short but I tried my best.
Feel free to send requests : fluff, smut, drabble, imagine!
She walks through London’s grey streets, it’s a rainy November morning like all the others. Around her, the passers-by stop at her sight. She is used to it, heads always turn to glare at her. But nobody dares to cross her cold gaze, she is always looked at from a strange distance. She hides half her face in the long shawl over her shoulders, wrapping her frail and delicate neck. The green and silver strips of the fabric contrast with the colour of her eyes, deep and yet so distant at the same time. Her long black coat does not succeed in erasing her from the world, she never really achieved at blending in with the others. Her gaze arises on the little coffee shop that she frequents every morning. She looks at her reflection in the commerce’s big front window. Her long black hair cascades and falls to the middle of her back. With a firm hand, she pushes the door and enters inside. She smiles confidently at the barista who recognized her. A dark silence reigns in the cafe. No one speaks, all people look at her. Her beauty is breathtaking and mesmerizing. She walks towards the barista who offers her usual café au lait. She holds the cup and walks with a decided step towards the small table on the edge of the window, where rain pearls draw abstract shapes. She lays her coffee on the small wooden table and gracefully unbuttons her coat that slips along her shoulders. She spreads it on the chair opposite to her and sits on the other side. She looks at the hot liquid smoking from the white porcelain cup. Silence is still felt. From her bag, she takes out a novel; a new one every morning. She slides a finger on the slice and opens it, subtly smelling the perfume of the damaged pages. So many people leafed it before her, read the words she’s getting ready to absorb herself.
She has a deep love for letters, a love for words, a love for poetry in which stories and imaginary are intertwined, where style and syntax become a complete work of art. That’s all she needs. She still feels the look of other customers weighing on her. She’s used to it, she’s not like them. She is not common, she is unique. With that much singularity comes a tremendous and unparalleled admiration. Her gaze freeze on a man who timidly drops his head. So simple to be that easily seen, but when she renders the likeness, the bonds are broken. They are intimidated yet they are absorbed, she creates tension everywhere she goes. Before opening her book, she takes her coffee with milk in her hands where varnished nails of a scarlet red marry with the colour of her painted lips. She swallows the first sip and she closes her eyes. The dark red shade of her mouth leaves a dark imprint on the edge of the white porcelain. She places a long wick of her black hair behind her ear. She flatters the book for a moment. She apprehends the minute when she will open the pages, where she will read its content and immerge in another and completely different world. But she’s not from this world anyway. Absorbed in her reading, the continuous coming and going of London as a setting, routine is in full swing. She’s alone, but she’s fine. She does not need anyone. She’s a Slytherin. She’s a witch. Nobody needs to know her secret, she’s magic in every way.
Harry is only used as physical appearance. Nothing that I write about him is my opinion about him or a reflection of what I think his character is like.
Now enjoy, loves:)
All the stars brightened up the mistirious night with the moon as their leader. It had been so long since the last time I had admired the night sky. Actually, I can’t really remember the last time I had admired anything else than him. It was probably insane to say that he was everything but the truth is that he was even more than that and that scared me the most. All this was never supposed to happen, at least not like this. I never wanted to have something without i couldn’t be able to live. Then those are the things that hurt you the most. He was like I drug that I should have never tried and I remember my dad telling me to be careful.
He used to say, “People that you meet are a gift or a lesson” and I don’t really know which one he was.
I probably don’t even want to know that. But whenever I see my Dad wrapping an arm around my Mothers waist, pressing her gently against his side, staring down at her while she talks with that happiness in her voice and my Father just starts to smile, that smile that reaches his eyes and his whole face seems to light up by just knowing to have the honour of holding her every single night, yeah then I wonder If he ever looked at me like that. If those two holes got craved into his cheeks, every time he looked at me. If his eyes started to glow, when he heard my name and if he told strangers about my smile. What I would give to know If he had truly loved me.
I guess those are the lines of life, but I can’t help but feel pain every time I see you with another one.
One day it won’t matter anymore and one day I will be able to fall asleep without tears in my eyes. But one day isn’t today, so I keep sipping on the bottle of wine in my hands. Drowning the memories of his lips on hers that soiled my heart with pain and his’ fingertips with blood.
Was she worth it? But he probably can’t answer that himself, then every time I see him, his eyes are underlined with dark circles that prove his leak of sleep. His smile stopped reaching his eyes a long time ago and the look on his face that he has every time he looks at the girl in his arms is drowned with sadness.
The swing squeaked whenever I made the slightest movement and after awhile it drowned together with the other noises of the party in the house behind me and the traffic light.
I swayed to the beat of my heart and watched the stars dance in my blurred mind while I kept sipping on the glass bottle.
Quite footsteps walked towards the swing set and I knew that it was him. He sat down in the swing beside me and I didn’t even had to force myself to look away, my drunken self did it for me. Both of us stayed quite for the remaining time till’ I felt his glaze on me, burning holes into my system. I turned my head and met his eyes that looked exhausted and dull, not much remaining green.
“You got skinnier” He breathed. I looked away again and shrugged my shoulders, taking another sip of the wine.
“Possible” I slurred and starred at the trees ahead, resting my elbows on my knees. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to end. I didn’t want to have him in my system while I was already drunk enough.
“You should eat more” He said calmly and I knew that his eyes were still glued to my body shell that appealed skinnier to him.
“I don’t think that you’re in the position to tell me what’s best or worst for me” My voice probably sounded strong for a person that was completely shattered inside and I was proud of myself for a second, but the sigh that left his lips, which I knew tasted like heaven, told me that he knew how weak I really was.
“Probably not. You’re right” He took a deep breath and I glazed over at him, hoping to just get a glimmer of his beauty without him taking the sightliest bit of notice. Maybe it was the alcohol that flooded my veins but I could have sworn that the moonlight in his eyes reflected a hint of pain, but before I could look any closer, he turned his head, so that a dark curl fell over his face that he stroke behind his ear with a soft gesture. “But I still care”
I shook my head gently and took another sip, the last sip, of the bottle before I threw it to the side and got up. A chuckle left my lips and I run my hands down my jeans and turned around to him. His full appearance was still so beautiful and he looked a little to big for the slim swing. “You never cared, Harry. I was you’re little toy. But the thing that hurts is that you knew I was scared. You knew that I gave you something that I never gave anyone. But you still played a game that I never wanted to play. I guess you forgot to tell me the rules and I was too stupid not to ask.”
I bite down on my bottom lip while he just stared at his laced fingers in his lap. This was probably the first time I didn’t feel pain or love or a mixture of both when I looked at him. I just felt disgusted and stupid. How did i trust him so easily?
For once I faced him my back and was ready to never turn around but the soft touch of his hand on my wrist made me freezer. I didn’t feel his skin on mine in weeks but it still felt the same. Soft and warm. And for a short moment I closed my eyes and his scent embraced me.
“I want you to know that it’s not true. I never meant to hurt you. God knows, you’re the only person I’d never want to get hurt. And I’m sorry how it ended. I wish it wouldn’t have. I wish you were still here, next to me, when I’m sober. And even if I deny it..” I turned my head to the side, my lips tempting and my eyes covered with a veil of tears. “You’ll always own every piece of my heart”
I glazed up in his eyes and realized that we hadn’t been that close in months and I thought of a way our lives wouldn’t have crossed each others lines, but I couldn’t imagine it. Then he showed me the lights and I knew that we’ll remember and maybe in a few years I’ll smile when I hear his name and thank him for what he did.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath before I pulled away from him, stepping behind the lights and walking into the darkness.
First imagine in ages. Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you’d like a second part or something like that:)
(N/A: READ THIS FIRST: New project coming up. As you lovely people wanted, I’m doing connected song fics, which basically means that THIS songfic is connected to the next THREE song fics, being part of a bigger story. It’s like a side fanfiction based on 4 One Direction Songs. Any questions, my ask box is there for you. I’d be happy to explain it better)
Los Angeles – Travelling Carnival – 6 PM
“Come on!” She said, walking faster than all of us. The wind in her hair, making it dance while she looked back at Harry, smiling widely, as a little child.
Harry was indifferent to all of their friends’ conversations. Some of them would talk to him and give up after a few nonsense responses. His eyes were focusing on something else. Not the shiny Ferris wheel or the filled carousel, no. It was she. Her smile, her expectation. She wanted him to have the best night ever.
It was indeed Harry’s first time on a travelling carnival like that. All the play stands and the little kids running around. It seemed quite magical, quite movie-like.
Still, all he could think about was spending that time with her.
Soon to be leaving off for tour, he didn’t have much time left, so every second seemed precious. He felt his stomach tighten up. Just the thought of telling her could make him sick. It was deeply ironic how nervous he was around her, thinking every step of the way, every little word said. If only his friends knew about it… Harry Styles, to them, the one who could talk to any girl in the world and win them out.
He did had an ability to conquer. When he wanted something, he would put everything he had into it to get it.
Why is it different with her, then? Why everything about her made him look like a clumsy teenage boy?