A Collection of Imagines

Harry + Zayn

Reader, Zayn, Harry

Green or Gold

"Will you please fuck off, Zayn!" I laugh on the top of my lungs for the hundredth time as I watch Zayn step away from me with a wide smile on his face. My sides hurt as I rub the same spot where he has poked after what seems like hours.

"You know that I just love your reaction whenever I do that." She throws up her middle finger to me and I hear Harry laugh behind me. I turn to see him leaning against the door frame, not even giving me a glance as he stares at her. My stomach flips as his smile turns into a smirk in her direction. 

She wearing something new. I bandanna used as a head band, pushing some on the hair away from her face. Some strands surround her face, but nothing constricts my view from her face. My eyes uncover more as they move down her body. She wears a large sweatshirt with blue jeans that are loose on her legs. In her hands, she holds up a shirt that she looks like she was ironing. Her eyes shine as they are placed on me when I step towards her. 

"Hey, do you want me to give your clothes for tonight?" Harry walks towards me, nodding, but suddenly Zayn steps in front of him. My eyebrows furrow as the boys just stare at each other. 

I step in front of him without even thinking about my actions. Harry shoots me a glare, like he knows exactly what I was doing. I try to fake it as an accident as I swerve left and right saying, "Oh, sorry, mate," and then, finally getting out of his way. 

Not very subtle, mate. "Oh, no worries." I pat his shoulder and walk to her, giving him a smirk. She smiles again as I approach her. She hands me the shirt that she had in her hands. Then, she scurries behind the racks of clothes to retrieve something. 

 I grab the skin tight black jeans that he likes and the gold ankle boots and walk back over to Harry. He sits up on the counter now with the shirt still in his hands. I place the jeans and the boots on the counter next to him and I smile at him. It took me forever to find those boots and by the expression on his face makes it worth it. As he jumps down from the counter, I glance to the other side of the room to find Zayn sitting on one of the arm chairs in the dressing room, staring intently at me and Harry. 

For some reason, I'm afraid to leave the dressing room. I'm afraid that if I leave, then ... they might kiss? God, you insecure shit. But fuck, just the way that she smiles at him ... what the fuck am I doing? 

"Holy shit, these are awesome." I look to her again after taking one of the boots into my hand. We looked through an old magazine together this one time and I remembered pointing out of one the shoes that David Bowie once wore. She found some that looks almost completely similar to the ones we ogled over. She smiles proudly at my reaction, making my knees buckle and my arm to lean against the counter. "Thank you." She chuckles to herself as she turns her attention back to the pile of clothes next to the ironing board. She grabs another shirt and more strands of her hair shuffle in front of her face. My hand moves before my brain can catch up and I move the strands, tucking them behind her ear. My finger tips touching her cheek very delicately. She looks back to me. "I really mean that. Thank you." A blush grows across her face. Fuck, that's so fucking adorable. 

I feel my eyes flame up as I stare into his green eyes. That evergreen forest green. The kind of green that makes you think of spring time. Cold mornings in a log cabin. Jade earrings. Large meadows. Stagnant river water. I could go on. I look away after staring for what seemed like too long. I look down at the shirt in my grasp. A rush of excitement thrills my body once again as I turn to Zayn. 

She quickly walks over to me and my thoughts are filled with her again, instead of her and Harry. Like in slow motion, she kneels in front of me. A bright smile covering her face. She places the shirt in my lap. When I finally look down at it, I'm speechless. She remembered. She fucking remembered. The shirt, splattered with what looks like spray paint, was what I saw at one of the windows of a small shop in Paris when we were in one of cars driving to the venue. She fucking tracked down the shop and bought it for me. I ... This fucking girl. I look back up to find her trying to hide her excitement behind her hands. My hands go up to hers and take them away from her face, revealing that beautiful smile. 

 I fucking hate this. Her on her knees in front of him with him restricting her hands. My stomach flips inside of me. My fingernails digging into the wood of the counter that I'm leaning on. My eyes stare daggers at Zayn as he smiles idiotically at the beautiful girl. 

I tangle my hands in his as I stare into his golden eyes. That amber gold. The kind of gold that makes you think of autumn. Warm afternoons in the sun. Gold lockets. Enormous sunflowers. White curtains waving in the evening wind. I could go on. Before I could say anything, he takes me into his arms, enveloping me in a hug. I feel myself crossing my arms over his shoulders and closing my eyes. 

I draw in a breath, taking in her scent. Flowers and sea salt. A lethal combination. My eyes close for a second as I feel her body pressed against mine. I felt like someone was staring at me, and there is. I open my eyes and they lock on Harry's. His expression is stern and angry. His knuckles straining as he clutches the counter top. I smirk grows across my face once I look back at his eyes. 

That fuck!