Wait why does this version of she sound so good wtf
wallacepolsom

Product Placement
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hello vonnie

Kiana Khansmith
Three Goblin Art

ellievsbear
taylor price
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Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
d e v o n
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever

Origami Around
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@stylescarolina
Wait why does this version of she sound so good wtf
Here’s a very pure picture of Harry
Three Nights In London
Now that you’ve joined Harry in his Hampstead home, will you get the ending you always wanted with him?
One Night In Nashville - Two Nights In New York
Word count: 13,610
A/N: Hello! I’m back off me holidays and actually managed to finish this for you! I hope you love it as much as I do, and please come and tell me your thoughts. A massive thank you to my guardian angel Liz @all-things-fic for the journo tips, otherwise I’d be lost! Much love as always xxx
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Two Nights In New York
After your disastrous departure from Nashville the week before, things only seem to be getting worse…
Word count: 12,489
One Night In Nashville (Part I)
If there’s one thing you never are, it’s late. You don’t like people who are late, or at least you think it’s not a good way to be when you’re a professional, and you wish certain people would sort their shit out and just get up fifteen minutes earlier if it means they’ll be on time. You’re the type of person to arrive fifteen minutes early, because that way you’ve got time to make a coffee, settle yourself in, catch up on other things that aren’t necessarily important if you need to, and just mentally prepare for the day.
Not today.
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One Night In Nashville
You’re called in to do a concert review when your friend falls ill. The artist you’re reviewing might just be your old flame…
Word count: 14,294
The sound of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table promptly wakes you from what you thought had been a deep sleep. It makes you jump, leaving your heart pounding and your ears ringing, just like your alarm does on a daily basis. You ignore it, not even bothering to check the recipient of your two a.m phone call, because absolutely nothing could be that important at two in the morning. Well - it might be two o’clock, but it’s not like you’ve seen the time anywhere to know for sure.
Your bed is never more comfortable than when you’re woken in the middle of the night, when consciousness is hardly an achievable goal and all you should really be doing is sleeping. Even when you know your mattress is in dire need of replacing because the springs are giving you back ache and you wake often with a pulled muscle, somehow it doesn’t feel the same in the early hours of the morning; you’re numb to it.
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THE SHAMROCK SOCIAL CLUB
Part Three. Good Aim.
Somehow you land a consultation with Harry Styles, one of the most renowned tattoo artists on the west coast. He agrees to design your very first tattoo and ink it on you himself, but over the course of your sessions together, mischief ensues… @harrysleathercollar is the godmother of this fic. PART I, PART II
*this series contains mature content and mild descriptions of tattoo guns/needlework
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The Forgotten Boy
Harry’s POV I was dumbfounded, gazing back at Alfie completely unable to comprehend what she’d just said to me.
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The Shamrock Social Club
Part One: Nobody Fucks With a Snake
Somehow you land a consultation with Harry Styles, one of the most renowned tattoo artists on the west coast. He agrees to design your very first tattoo and ink it on you himself, but over the course of your sessions together, mischief ensues… @harrysleathercollar is the godmother of this fic. Ellen, these characters would be nothing without your boundless enthusiasm and creativity.
*this series contains mature content and mild descriptions of tattoo guns/needlework
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cola, soda, fizzy, pop (part 1)
word count: 7,962
somewhere in the midst of navigating their transition from childhood to young adulthood, Y/N and Harry take the phrase ‘jinx, you owe me a soda’ way too seriously.
tags: fluff, angst, cursing.
(a/n: a big thank you to ellie @meetmeinthehallwayeverytime for suggesting and reaching out for a collaboration, and for being a fantastic writer to work with :-) thank you so much to my dears @gucciwoodnymph and @theartofallstars for being wonderful betas, for leaving no stone unturned when it came to improving this wherever possible. thank you to every single one of you who has reached out to show your support for this and for writers in general, you are special. please enjoy this fic, my heart and soul, my mind manifested more or less in words.)
Of all the things that have been ruined for you, you never would’ve imagined that it would be sodas.
Indeed, it’s no longer a rare sight for the locals to find you rooted to the tiles of the convenience store a few streets down from home, staring at the assortment of colourful cans and bottles lined up behind the refrigerated glass, your expression a calm hiding the storm.
No one understands why you are like this.
You just were. One day, you were chugging sodas at a party like a Greek who was loyal to Dionysus, and the next, up to this day, you haven’t had so much as a sip of a soda. You’d have a non-carbonated drink, a cordial, sparkling wine, but that’s the furthest you went.
That is not to say that you were a health junkie, either. You wouldn’t turn down chocolate if your tastebuds yearned for it, and you still bought the sinful almond croissant from the bakery every time you got a noseful of it down the street.
This unexplained change gave the people who knew you whiplash. At first, it was a lot of melodramatic gasps from your friends over dinner, going on for weeks about the new soda-less diet you’re bound to fail. Then, it was older relatives using you as an unwilling role model for their children to drink more water.
No one had expected that you’d stick to this soda ban, but you did.
No one knows that it was Harry Styles who had ruined sodas for you.
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The Forgotten Girl
December 5th – Harry’s POV It wasn’t like Alfie not to show up to a class.
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Love Always, Harry: Part II
Holmes Chapel, 1985 - Best friends since childhood, you and Harry have grown up to lead lives on opposite ends of the spectrum. He’s a journalist for Rolling Stone, always country-hopping and eagerly awaiting the next big thing. You’ve been a waitress at the diner in your hometown for five years, bound by routine. You and Harry keep in touch through letters and postcards until the day he returns home and flips your world upside-down. (Part I)
*mature content*
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read on wattpad
December 31, 2019
-Harry-
Warmth is what woke me up early on the final day of 2019. Warmth from the sunlight seeping through the curtains that I’d haphazardly closed the night before. Warmth from the duvet that was far too heavy for the tropical weather. Warmth from the beautiful redhead that lay next to me, her body pressed flush against mine with the tips of her nimble fingers tucked just under the band of my boxers. She was still sleeping soundly, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed with colour. We’d spent a bit too long in the sun yesterday and now she had the most adorable patches of pink lingering on her skin. The sun had also coaxed out her dormant freckles. Tiny specks were scattered over her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose and littered across her shoulders, and I couldn’t stop myself from dragging my finger over them, lightly connecting the dots to form patterns. It was the perfect way to spend the first few minutes of the day.
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a/n: i couldn’t for the life of me decide on a title, and without a title there’s no banner, and so this screenshot will have to do. it’ll make more sense when you read the story…
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Up the Junction
November 11th Harry had appeared at my home before 8AM even hit, smirking, shirt undone, only stood in my doorway for a matter of seconds before I’d dragged him inside.
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Childhood friends / 6244 words
Catch up
March 2017
Part One
To say I skipped downstairs merrily would be an alarming understatement. All I could think about was the fact that Harry was my boyfriend. All I could think about was how ridiculously happy we’d been the night before, the initial beginnings of our rekindling seeming to wash away and be replaced by this new commencement, which was so innocent and sweet that I almost felt like we were kids again. Just two teenagers who were trying to figure out their feelings as the same time as knowing that it was something special, like you’d do anything for them because you were foolish and young and smitten. It hit me directly in the chest to walk into the kitchen and see my mother sat there looking so miserable.
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December
Rain crashed furiously against the window in Zayn’s bedroom, creating a dense noise to eradicate what was otherwise a completely silent atmosphere.
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