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ada

@watermelonsugarhiiii / watermelonsugarhiiii.tumblr.com

your typical aries friend
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jawllines

“No,” she stresses, “I actually would vehemently deny that I wanted to even look at you, but Mei and Adam always loved poking fun. Always said we needed to like – fuck out the tension or something.” She shook her head to herself, slicing back into her food – at least the embarrassment hadn’t ruined her appetite, “I’d always tell them you hated me too much to do anything like that.” 

“But you wanted to?” He is still smiling. 

“What I want is to smother you with a pillow.” 

“That’s very kinky, babe, but we should probably lose our virginity before we explore that,” he is immediately assaulted by a pillow careening from her bed to his, slapping him in the head, “Hey –” 

“You’re obnoxious,” she groans, “I can’t tell if you hating me was better than you not.” 

or

Y/N and Harry don't hate each other at all, it's actually the opposite

22k+ words

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jawllines

Harry feels his is much less visually pleasing than hers – he’s only dressed how most princes are in ballets, with a white suit jacket that’s emblazoned by gold, sparkling threads, and equally dazzling jewels. A crown is fitted among his hair, styled and slicked in a way opposite to his usual unruly curls. Y/N, in all her sweet, innocent woodland nymph gear, points at his crotch and tells him, in all sincerity, “Your horse is out, you should put that away.” 

He feels his face redden, “What’re you, twelve?” But Y/N only giggles and lets her eyes dance over the rest of him. 

“You really could be a prince, probably. You sure look like one,” she finally says, “As far as your temperament, maybe a vindictive one with a taste for human flesh! Should we tell make-up to add a little blood dribble at the corner of your mouth?” 

“Enough,” he rolled his eyes as one of the artists ushered him into his seat, and he has to bite down a smile so she doesn’t see how amused he actually is, “Go get your make-up done, and hush.” 

She pouted her lip, “Ugh, you’re no fun.” 

or

Harry and Y/N are over hating each other, so they try something different

(20K+ words) 

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jawllines

“You lot fight like an old married couple,” Niall cleared his throat after sucking down his Pepsi through the straw stuck in the can, “Honestly, at this point I think you’re more frenemies than enemies, right? Adam, am I right?” 

Adam nods, “Yeah, I can see that,” he pointed at them both with his index and middle finger, “You still talk the same to each other but there is like…an underlying fondness, you know what I mean? It’s sweet.” 

“Ew.” They both reply at the same time, and Y/N ducks her face down, twirling her fork around the noodles, and stuffing them into her mouth, “Harry would rather spit on me than be even remotely fond.” 

“You get smarter every day,” Harry replied.

or 

Harry and Y/N still hate each other, but it’s getting kind of tiring, isn’t it? 

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42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys.  I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite​ (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law.  Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her.  The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time.  She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street.  Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl.  Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years.  To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning.  And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume.  However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.  When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things.  The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

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