In order to take down the biggest criminal mastermind of the modern day, two international spy agencies agree to a collaboration between their best spies. Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles will pose as Jessica and Samuel Thompson in order to infiltrate the elite criminal world of drug smuggling and black market deals, where the amount of blood you’ve spilled is quantifiable to the respect you receive. It’s not invading a criminal enterprise that’s difficult for you, though - it’s pretending to be married. Being a spy is tough when you’re deciphering your husband’s compliment instead of eavesdropping on the conversation behind you. When their feelings become too hard to ignore, will they end up sacrificing the mission to save their marriage, or was it just a job all along?
spy!Harry x spy!reader, fake marriage, rivals to frenemies to lovers, espionage, crime, pet names, angst,
62.2k words
Shooter and Styles Masterlist
Englishman Harry Styles first made a name for himself when he singlehandedly robbed a passenger train without a single casualty. Since then, the outlaw has been on the run, narrowly avoiding arrest while making his way traveling across these United States. Several months ago, Mr. Styles was seen with a companion, a young Y/N Gray, formerly married to the late Thomas Gray, who Mr. Styles murdered before kidnapping and corrupting the young Mrs. Gray to his devilry. Now, they harass, steal, and murder together, haunting this great nation with their damned souls. Mr. Styles is wanted dead or alive, but Mrs. Gray's family wishes for her to be returned unharmed if possible.
outlaw!Harry x fem outlaw!reader, 1880's gunslinger AU, crazy criminals
4.2k
Yes, Sir Masterlist
Working for Mr. Styles was a nightmare, sleeping with him was a dream.
CEO!Harry x fem assistant!reader, filthy filthy filthy, Harry is an asshole but a good dom
8.7k
The Reviews Are In... Masterlist
Harry x OC, AU (author!fmc, book critic!Harry), 3 part fic, enemies-to-lovers, smut/porn with plot, multi-year fic
19.4k
Quickies Masterlist
A series of quick, fast smutty one shots
Misc. Writings
Blurbs, headcanons and other tiny bits of writing
One Shots
Don't Feed the Plants
Audrey worked at a flower shop with her crush, Harry Styles. Harry was in an unhealthy relationship and Audrey wished he would notice her. What would she do when one of the plants promised everything she could want, including Harry himself, in exchange for something sticky, sweet, and red?
Harry x OC, Harryween/Spooky fic, blood, murder, grief, abusive relationships
11.5k
Wrecked
(for the jarofstyles writing challenge)
Three months after your plane crashed, you've grown used to living on an island, wearing the clothes of the dead, and sleeping next to a celebrity you barely know. But you've gotten too comfortable, and with the threat of something new coming, how can you keep surviving under these conditions?
Harry x fem!reader, plane crash, survivor's guilt, smut, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v penetration
7.7k
Summary: You spend your days developing disposable cameras at a Walmart photo lab, but one regular customer slowly becomes the highlight of your routine. Month after month, you catch glimpses of Harry's life through the memories he trusts you to develop, until he finally starts noticing the person behind the counter...
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: Mentions of grief and the loss of parents.
.
Victor's laughter slowly faded as he disappeared back toward the front of the store, leaving the photo department quiet once again.
You lingered behind the counter for a moment longer, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the yellow processing envelopes stacked neatly in the tray.
Mark Evans, Charlie Dawson, Carla Jin, Two professional rolls from a local wedding photographer.
And...Harry.
His name sat a few envelopes down, written in your own handwriting from some minutes earlier.
You reached for it.
Then stopped "...No"
You sighed quietly, shaking your head at yourself before pulling Jennifer's order instead…It was the fair thing to do.
First in, first out.
Your father had drilled that into you when you were barely tall enough to see over the counter.
“People trust you with their memories, treat every envelope like it's the most important one in the room”
You stared at Jennifer's camera for all of three seconds, then, with a guilty glance around the empty department, you quietly switched the two envelopes.
"...Sorry, Dad."
It wasn't like anyone would notice….It would only take a few extra minutes.
You slipped Harry's disposable camera into your hands and disappeared through the swinging door.
.
The familiar routine settled your mind almost immediately.
Gloves. Lights off. Red safe light glowing faintly overhead.
The plastic shell cracked open beneath the small opener revealing the tightly wound roll hidden inside. You carefully pulled the leader free, clipped it into the processor, and watched as the machine swallowed the film inch by inch.
Then... You waited for some minutes and the processor chimed.
The strip of negatives emerged warm from the dryer, each tiny frame glowing amber beneath the inspection light.
No scratches.
No light leaks.
Beautiful.
You fed the negatives into the scanner, the computer humming softly as it began pulling each image onto the screen.
The first photograph appeared.
A mountain overlook.
The horizon stretched endlessly beneath a pale morning sky, the edges of the frame washed in the unmistakable softness that only disposable cameras seemed capable of creating.
Next.
A coffee mug balanced on the hood of an old Jeep.
Next.
The golden retriever.
Of course.
He was soaking wet, tongue lolling out of his mouth as someone just outside the frame tried and clearly failed…to get him to sit still.
A smile tugged at your lips.
"Hi, buddy." You didn't know the dog's name…you'd considered making one up more than once.
The next image loaded.
Harry sat on the edge of a wooden dock, his feet dangling over the water. He wasn't looking at the camera. Instead, he was doubled over laughing, one hand pressed against his forehead as if whatever had just happened was too ridiculous to recover from.
You found yourself leaning closer to the screen.
What happened?...
Had someone fallen into the lake?....
Had the dog stolen somebody's sandwich?...
Had one of his friends told an awful joke?....
You'd never know.
The camera had frozen that fraction of a second forever…but everything surrounding it,the sound, the voices, the reason behind the laugh…had vanished the moment the shutter clicked.
The next frame answered nothing.
Just the dock.
Empty now.
You almost laughed to yourself, whoever had been taking the pictures clearly wasn't interested in documenting places, they were documenting moments.
A crooked shot of someone sleeping in the passenger seat. Half a campfire. Two pairs of muddy boots. A deck of cards scattered across a picnic table.
None of them were technically good photographs,most people would've deleted them without a second thought, but that's what you loved about film…nobody took disposable cameras to capture perfection, they took them because something had felt worth remembering.
You caught yourself wondering, not for the first time, what it must feel like to have that…To have people who showed up in every roll of film, to have traditions that repeated often enough to become familiar, to have somewhere that looked so unmistakably like home.
You lingered on one photograph longer than the others, Harry was looking directly at whoever stood behind the camera. Not at you…At them.
His smile wasn't particularly big, just soft and comfortable, the kind of smile you gave someone who already knew you.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly…you wondered what it was like to be the person standing on the other side of that lens.
To be the reason someone smiled like that.
The scanner beeped.
Twenty-seven photographs.
Twenty-seven tiny windows into a life you only knew in fragments.
You exhaled slowly before beginning to sort the prints into neat stacks.
You shouldn't have favorites.
Your father would've hated that you developed his rolls first and he probably would've scolded you for staring at the photographs a little too long, too.
.
The familiar scent of developer clung to your clothes as you pushed through the swinging door, Harry's sealed envelope tucked neatly beneath your arm, you glanced toward the front registers and immediately slowed.
Gale. The store manager.
He was standing near the photo counter with his hands tucked into his pockets, scanning the department with an expression you couldn't quite place.
Your stomach dropped.
Uh-oh.
Managers didn't wait around the photo lab, not unless someone had complained or something had gone very, very wrong.
He looked up when he noticed you "There you are!"
You instinctively glanced around the counter "...Did I mess something up?"
A small smile crossed his face "No…you got a minute?"
.
His office overlooked the receiving docks at the back of the store, you'd only been inside a handful of times, usually for yearly evaluations or mandatory training.
He motioned for you to sit and remained standing for a moment, opening a manila folder before quietly closing it again.
He sighed "I got a call from corporate this morning…"
You immediately knew.
"They're restructuring all in-store photo departments…"
Your heart sank
"What does that mean?"
"It means..." He chose his words carefully "Starting next month, this location won't be processing film anymore…We'll still print digital photos. Passport pictures. Canvas prints. Things like that."
He paused "But the film lab....is closing."
You blinked at him and your voice came out quieter than you expected.
"...Closing?"
He nodded.
"They're removing every processing machine from stores nationwide."
The words barely registered.
You thought about the machine humming quietly in the room behind yours.
The enlarger. The dryer. The processor. The inspection light.
Every scratch on those counters. Every stain left by developer over the last twenty years. Every lesson your father had taught you standing beside them.
"I..." You swallowed "I grew up on those machines"
Gale looked at you sympathetically "I know."
"My dad taught me how to develop film on them” Your eyes drifted toward the office window as though you could somehow see through the walls into the little lab "I've been using that processor since I was thirteen!"
Then an idea struck.
Suddenly.
"What happens to them?"
"The machines?"
You nodded quickly.
"They'll be auctioned off to liquidation companies."
"...Could I buy them?"
The question left your mouth before you had time to think it through.
He hesitated "I actually asked…"
Hope flickered and then disappeared just as quickly….
"The processor alone is just under twenty-three thousand dollars…"
Your face fell.
"The scanner is another eight" He glanced down at the paperwork "The printer's around five…."
Your shoulders slumped "Oh"
"I'm sorry."
You let out a humorless little laugh "Yeah..."
You hadn't expected them to be cheap.
But you'd imagined maybe...a few thousand?
Something impossible, but dream-worthy.
"The other thing I need you to do..."
You looked down. Bright orange signs.
PHOTO LAB CLOSING
ALL DISPOSABLE CAMERAS 50% OFF
ALL FILM 50% OFF
FINAL SALE
"I need everything marked by the end of today” He continued. "And starting tomorrow, we can't accept any new film orders."
You frowned.
"...What about the cameras people already bring in?"
"We'll finish every order already in the system."
"And after that?"
He shook his head "We'll direct customers to the nearest independent lab"
The words hurt more than they should have.
"I know this is hard."
You nodded "I'm losing my job…it is hard"
"No"
That pulled your attention back to him.
"We've already approved your transfer"
"...Transfer?"
"You've got enough seniority to choose" He flipped through another sheet.
"Customer Service, Electronics,Front End,Online Pickup and you'll keep your pay and benefits."
You stared at the list….none of it felt right, none of it smelled like developer, none of it hummed softly while negatives dried overhead, none of it had your father in it.
"So basically I can still buy discounted chicken…." you said without thinking and looked back at him “sorry…i’m…glad i can keep my job”
Your eyes remained fixed on the fluorescent orange signs spread across his desk, in a few hours...you'd be the one taping them to the counter.
The same counter where your father had taught you how to load your first roll of film.
The same counter where people had trusted you with birthdays, weddings, road trips, first steps, last Christmases! The same counter where, just that morning, Harry had smiled and said,
"I'll see you Thursday"
Your throat tightened. Thursday. He had no idea that by the time he came back...Everything would be different.
.
The rest of your shift passed in a blur.
Gale carried the first stack of clearance boxes over to the photo department while you stood behind the counter, staring at the fluorescent orange signs in your hands. They felt heavier than paper had any right to.
PHOTO LAB CLOSING.
ALL DISPOSABLE CAMERAS 50% OFF.
ALL FILM 50% OFF.
FINAL SALES.
You peeled the backing off the first piece of tape and pressed the sign against the glass display that held the disposable cameras. Then another went on the photo printer. Another on the counter. Another beside the pickup shelf. The bright orange paper clashed horribly against the faded Kodak displays that had been there longer than you had.
Every sign you taped up felt like another nail in the coffin and by the time you reached for the last one, your hands had started to shake.
"...Hey."
Victor's voice was quieter than usual.
You turned to find him frozen in the middle of the aisle, a shopping basket hanging forgotten from one hand. His eyes bounced between you and the signs, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
"...What’s going on?"
"They're closing the lab."
His face fell almost instantly "What?"
"Corporate."
"When?"
"Two weeks"
He walked over without saying another word, taking one of the orange signs from your hands before pulling you into a hug.
You stiffened for a second, surprised, before your shoulders slowly relaxed.
"I'm so sorry" he murmured.
You swallowed hard "It'll be okay..."
"No" he said honestly. "It won't…Not for a while."
That almost made you cry.
Victor pulled away just enough to look at you. "They know this is... your dad's place."
"I know."
"They can't seriously think moving you to self-checkout is the same thing."
You let out a small, humorless laugh. "They're offering Electronics, too…"
"Oh, well, in that case" He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Nothing says preserving family legacy like explaining HDMI cables to dads"
Despite everything, you laughed.
"I also asked if I could buy the machines."
Victor's eyebrows lifted hopefully "Aaaand?"
"They're over thirty thousand dollars."
"...Oh, big number"
"Yeah"
He sighed through his nose before squeezing your shoulder.
"We'll figure something out….”
.
Thursday came much faster than you wanted it to.
Every morning that week had started the same way: coffee, your grandmother wishing you a good day, and another hour spent scrolling through online marketplaces looking for used processors, researching commercial loans, reading articles about independent photo labs that somehow survived the digital age.
None of it led anywhere, you couldn't stop thinking about those machines…about your father standing beside them with chemical stains on his hands and about every lesson he'd ever taught you.
It couldn't end with a liquidation sale.
By the time Thursday afternoon rolled around, the orange signs had become part of the department. Customers constantly stopped to ask questions.
"Where am I supposed to get my film developed now?" "Nobody develops disposable cameras anymore?" "That's a shame."
You smiled politely through every conversation, inside, each one felt like another reminder that something irreplaceable was disappearing.
You were reorganizing the discounted cameras when the familiar chime above the counter rang.
You didn't look up immediately.
"Hi, welcome to—"
Your words caught in your throat.
Harry, he didn't smile right away.Instead, his eyes caught on the signs.
He stopped walking.
His gaze drifted from the giant PHOTO LAB CLOSING banner taped across the counter to the half-empty display of disposable cameras, then to the bright orange 50% OFF stickers plastered over nearly every shelf.
His brow furrowed.
He looked back at you.
"...What's all this?"
You'd answered that question at least thirty times over the past few days.
Somehow, this was the only time it felt difficult….
You forced a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.
"We're closing."
Harry blinked "...What?"
"The photo lab" You gestured vaguely around the tiny department "Corporate's shutting down all the in-store film processing"
For a moment, he simply stared at you "As in...all of it?"
You nodded "All of it"
His expression shifted from confusion to genuine disappointment.
"...This place has always been here"
"I know"
Silence settled between you.
Then, instead of asking where he'd have to get his film developed next...
He looked back at you.
"So....What happens to you?"
You shrugged, trying to make it sound smaller than it felt. "I get transferred"
"Transferred where?"
"I haven't decided yet...." You let out a quiet laugh. "Customer Service. Electronics. Online Pickup... basically anywhere they need another employee."
Harry frowned "Do you want that?"
The answer came far too quickly.
"No"
He studied your face for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to ask the next question "What would you want?"
You looked through the small window into the darkroom. The processor was running another customer's roll, humming away like it had every day for the past twenty years.
"I'd keep this"
"The lab?"
You nodded.
"My dad taught me everything in there" A small smile tugged at your lips "I practically grew up breathing chemicals"
He smiled faintly "I remember you telling me."
"I asked if I could buy the machines..."
"And…"
"The processor alone costs almost twenty-three thousand dollars."
His eyebrows shot up.
"The scanner's another eight. The printer's around five."
"...Jesus."
"Exactly…so unless I suddenly win the lottery..."
Your sentence trailed off.
"You could open your own lab” he said suddenly
“That's not exactly cheap either" You counted on your fingers absentmindedly. "Rent, insurance, ventilation, dark room…it adds up really fast"
He nodded slowly, "Right."
"I could probably set up a room at my grandma's house, where my dad's old lab used to be in the garage. I already have some of the chemicals I need at home, and I'd just have to buy a decent printer. But I'd also need developing tray… blackout covers for the windows so there aren't any light leaks... so yeah, I'd have a lot to figure out….developing film is really the only thing I know how to do"
"So..."He rested his elbows on the counter. "...hypothetically"
You tilted your head.
"If you did have the equipment..."
"I could do it."
"No problem?"
You almost looked offended…."I've been doing this since I was thirteen, I don't need Walmart to know how to develop film."
"You just need..." He gestured vaguely "...everything else."
"Pretty much."
For a few seconds, neither of you spoke.
Harry looked down at the disposable camera display, now nearly empty after four days of clearance sales. His fingers absentmindedly tapped against the countertop.
Then his eyes lit up with a thought.
"...Wait...could you still do mine?"
You blinked.
"My film...I don't really want to take it somewhere else."
You stared at him.
"I know that's probably a weird thing to ask..."
"No, it's just..." You smiled, still a little surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to."
"I could pay extra," he added quickly. "If that's what it takes."
A small laugh escaped you.
"I guess..." You glanced toward the darkroom one more time before looking back at him. "I could probably set up something at my grandma's house. At least temporarily."
His face brightened almost immediately.
"Really?"
You nodded.
"It'd be tiny. Definitely not anything like this." You gestured around the lab. "But if I could find a printer... maybe."
"What about the chemicals?"
"I have some"
"And the space?"
You smiled to yourself.
"My grandma has an old laundry room in the back of the house." A soft laugh left your lips. "Though she'd probably have a heart attack when she realized the whole place was going to smell like developer again."
"Again?"
"My dad used to process film at home before he worked here."
Harry smiled.
"So she'd survived it once."
"Barely." You laughed. "She spent years complaining that every towel in the house smelled like fixer."
He chuckled with you before his expression grew thoughtful.
"I can help."
You blinked.
"Help?"
"If you decide to do it."
He shrugged as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I've built shelves before. I know my way around tools. If the room needs work, better ventilation, or even replacing a few windows..." He smiled. "I'd be happy to lend a hand."
For a second, you simply stared at him.
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You didn't." He folded his arms against the counter, his smile never wavering. "I'm offering."
"But..."
"You've been developing my film for almost a year." His expression softened. "Seems only fair I return the favor."
A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
"We barely know each other."
Harry laughed too.
"Maybe…" He shrugged. "But I know enough."
You tilted your head.
"I know your name. I know you make terrible jokes every time I forget to use my flash." He counted on his fingers "I know you somehow remember every customer that walks through here, and..." he added with a small grin, "...I'm pretty sure you know that I go through disposable cameras faster than any normal person should, SO, you should know a lot more about my life than most of my coworkers"
You smiled knowingly.
"Maybe I know a little."
"See?" he said. "We're getting somewhere…"
The two of you laughed, and for the first time in days, the knot that had settled in your chest loosened just enough for you to breathe…then Harry looked at you with the same warm expression he always seemed to wear whenever he walked up to your counter.
"Let me help"
You searched his face, trying to understand why someone you'd only ever known from opposite sides of a photo counter was so willing to give up his time for you.
Before you could ask...
He answered the question himself.
"That's what friends are for…" He smiled. "We are friends... aren't we?"
Before you could answer, a familiar voice cut in from the aisle behind you.
"Oh thank God!!"
You closed your eyes….Victor.
He appeared around the corner carrying a box of printer paper dramatically balanced on one hip.
"I was beginning to think I'd have to renovate her grandma's house myself."
Harry turned, momentarily confused while Victor walked straight up to the counter as if he'd been invited into the conversation the entire time.
"You must be Harry."
Harry blinked. "...Yeah."
Victor stuck out his hand. "Victor."
Harry shook it."Pleasure"
"The pleasure's aaall mine"
You sighed "Victor..."
"What?" he asked innocently "I'm introducing myself."
"You've literally never spoken to him before"
"I've admired him from afar"
Harry let out a surprised laugh.
Victor pointed at him "There it is…."
"...What?"
"That smile" He looked over at you "I get it now."
"Oh my God Victor!!"
"I'm just saying!" He turned back to Harry. "If I looked like you, I'd smile all the time too!"
Harry laughed "I don't even know how to respond to that."
"You don't have to" Victor waved a dismissive hand "I flirt with everyone…It's part of my job."
"There is no part of your job that involves flirting with customers” you said almost laughing
"There should be"
You rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt.
"So..." Victor continued, leaning against the counter. "I hear we're building a darkroom at Grandma's house"
"We're not" you said immediately
"We might" Harry corrected with a small smile
Victor gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Ooooh, I like him."
"Victor."
"What? He's optimistic."
He looked back at Harry.
"And yes, obviously you're helping."
Harry chuckled "I volunteered."
"As you should."
Victor nodded approvingly before turning to you.
"And you're saying yes."
"I haven't said anything."
"You don't have to." He gave you an exaggerated look before flicking his eyes toward Harry and then back to you "This is going to be so much fun and for the record, if we're building stuff and sweating, I expect pizza."
"You weren't invited."
"I invited myself, just call me…seriously" and with a wink he disappeared
Harry watched him disappear before turning back to you, still smiling.
"...Is he always like that?"
You let out a long sigh.
"Unfortunately."
The two of you shared another laugh before your eyes suddenly widened.
"Oh my God!"
"What?"
"You came here for your pictures."
Harry looked down at the empty counter and laughed.
"I did, didn't I?"
"Hold on."
You disappeared into the pickup shelves, running your finger along the alphabetized envelopes until you found the yellow Kodak packet.
Styles, Harry.
You slid it from the shelf and returned to the counter, placing it carefully in front of him.
"Twenty-seven prints."
He picked up the envelope with the kind of anticipation you'd come to recognize over the past year.
"Any spoilers?" he asked with a grin.
You smiled. "I technically can’t inspect customers' pictures…"
"Worth a shot."
"I'll never ruin a surprise."
"I know."
He tucked the envelope safely into his tote bag, treating it with the same care he always did.
"So promise me…"His tone was light, but there was something sincere underneath it.
"If you decide to do this..." He gestured toward the darkroom one last time. "...or even if you just need another pair of hands..." He smiled "You'll call."
You looked at him for a long second….It would've been easy to brush it off or o tell him not to worry, or, to say you'd figure it out yourself. Instead...
"Okay."
His eyebrows lifted "Okay?"
"I promise."
The smile that spread across his face was impossibly warm.
"I'll be waiting for that call."
"I'll try not to keep you waiting too long."
"You'd better not."
You watched him turn toward the automatic doors, the yellow envelope tucked safely beneath his arm.
Just before he disappeared into the flow of shopping carts and weekend customers, he looked back over his shoulder.
"Bye, friend."
The word caught you off guard.
You smiled anyway.
"Bye, Harry."
.
The drive home felt longer than usual, maybe because your mind refused to settle.
Every red light became another opportunity to calculate numbers that didn't add up. You mentally measured the laundry room behind your grandma's house, wondering if there was enough space for shelving, drying racks, trays. You tried to remember how much plumbing your dad had needed when he developed film from home years ago.
Then there was the smell.
Your grandmother had never exactly been fond of that part.
You smiled to yourself.
"Margaret," your dad would always tease. "That's not chemicals, that's the smell of memories."
"Well, memories can stay in the garage!" she'd answer every single time.
By the time you pulled into the driveway, your stomach had tied itself into a knot, the porch light was already on, casting a warm glow over the flower pots your grandmother insisted on replacing every spring.
The front door opened before you even reached it.
"There you are..." your grandmother smiled, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I was about to call you."
"Sorry, traffic."
"I made pot roast"
Your heart sank just a little…of course she'd made your favorite.
Now you definitely had to tell her.
Dinner passed mostly in comfortable silence, the television humming softly from the living room while she told you about Myrtle's grandson getting accepted into college and how the tomatoes in the garden were finally starting to ripen.
You tried to listen….You really did, but your fork mostly pushed carrots around your plate.
Your grandmother noticed.
"Bunny."
You looked up.
"What's wrong?"
You sighed..
"They're closing the photo lab….they told me some days ago"
The room went quiet.
She set her fork down.
"...Closing?"
You nodded.
"Corporate's shutting down all the film processing."
"When?"
"Two weeks or so"
"Oh, sweetheart..."
"They're taking the machines" The words caught in your throat all over again.
Your grandmother reached across the table, resting her hand over yours. "I know how much those machines mean to you…"
"There might be... one idea..." She tilted her head "I was thinking..."
You looked toward the back window, where the old laundry room sat just beyond the garden.
"...maybe I could turn the laundry room into a little darkroom."
Your grandmother blinked "The laundry room?"
"It'd only be temporary!” You rushed the words out "Just until I can figure something else out. I know it'd probably smell, and I'd have to move a bunch of things around, and if you don't want me to, I completely understand…"
"Bunny."
You stopped talking.
She smiled. "You thought I was going to say no?"
You laughed nervously "...Maybe?"
She shook her head. "Oh, honey"
She reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, just like she had when you were little. "Your father would've loved this..."
You felt your throat tighten "He would've?"
"He spent half his life trying to convince people that film wasn't dying." She chuckled softly. "You remember what he'd always say?"
You smiled through the sting behind your eyes.
"People don't stop wanting memories."
"They just forget how special it is to wait for them" your grandmother finished.
The two of you smiled at the memory.
"He'd be so proud of you."
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it "I'm not doing anything yet."
"No" She squeezed your hand again "But you're trying."
You looked at her.
"Most people would've accepted the transfer and moved on."
"I almost did..."
"But instead..." Her eyes drifted toward the backyard. "...you're trying to keep a piece of him alive."
You looked out the window too.
The laundry room wasn't much, peeling white paint, one tiny window, a crooked wooden door and an old utility sink that probably hadn't been used in years.
But suddenly...It didn't look so small.
"You know…" your grandmother said, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, "it'll probably smell awful."
You laughed, wiping at your eyes "It definitely will."
She sighed dramatically "I suppose I'll survive, but if that little room gives people the same joy your father did..." She stood, collecting the empty dinner plates "...then I think I can learn to love the smell of memories"
niallhoran: Hershey! thank you so much for an incredible night. 13 years later, i made it back. what a week it’s been playing two stadium shows with @thomasrhettakins , such a special thing.
it’s time to rest before rehearsals for the big one….dinner party live on tour . if you don’t have a ticket , you have to go get one. I promise you it’s going to be amazing
mallll i just want to baby harry like nrush his teeth brush his hair give him so so many kisses ugh the dream can you write something about thiss
Wrapped in his robe, Harry sniffled dejectedly, his arms crossed across his chest. "I'm fine," he said, his voice raspy from the coughing that kept him up all night.
You ignored him, continuing to brush through his hair. The bristles scratching at his scalp reminded him of his youth, of his mom soothing him after he accidentally watched a movie that was too scary for his child brain, brushing through his curls as she sang a Fleetwood Mac song.
"I said, I'm fine."
"I heard you. I'm just choosing to ignore you," you said, kissing the top of his head.
Grumbling to himself, Harry's body is racked with another fit of coughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve. Once the coughing eased, he pressed his face into the soft fabric, his groans muffled by his arm. Every tiny movement felt like agony, and it didn't help when the tour bus hit an unavoidable pothole, jostling everyone inside.
You rubbed at his back, hoping he could feel your comforting touch through the fleece. "I know you don't feel good, but if you get some rest and drink some water, you'll feel better, I promise."
At first, you're not sure if Harry heard you, his head still buried in his arms, but then, he slowly lifted his head. "Could I have some orange juice too?" His voice was so weak, it sounded like it took all of his strength to ask for such a simple thing.
"Of course, do you want that now or-"
Harry shook his head, resting his cheek on your knee. "No, just want you here."
Leaning forward, you gently press your lips into his hairline, kissing along the side of his warm face. "Of course baby, whatever you want."
Do you know what you're having? A babygirl? What? She's a Harry Styles fan! She's allowed to make her own choices! Let's not get too hasty, she might not be a fan of the slutty shorts, we'll find out.
Harry talking to a pregnant fan at the Together, Together Tour in São Paulo Night II (July 18th)
