It's the summer before Zayn's final year at uni and he's got it all sussed. Or so he thinks until he meets 17-year old Harry and realises that he doesn't know a thing.

AU where Zayn’s a journalist who finds rock star, Harry Styles, passed out outside his motel room. (Smut with a capital S, so if you're used to my usual stuff, proceed with caution.)

A collection of all my Zarry one shots.

He would never be the wet blanket. He didn't allow himself to do so. He wasn't clear if he was happy with that. But at least, he knew he wouldn't regret about it. "Sure you won't." Harry replied slowly, "Because you don't even know what you've lost." (Not updating atm)

The one where Harry is the boy next door and Zayn doesn't stand a chance.

We’re just friends. Zayn needs to get that tattooed somewhere so he never forgets.

Liam asked him last week, when he was drunk and feeling brave, how he knew about Harry, and Zayn was drunk and feeling brave, too, so he told him he didn’t know, that’s the point. There was no crash, no bang, no chase through an airport. It was more quiet than that. Zayn didn’t even feel it, how, from the moment he and Harry met, the space between them got smaller and smaller until there wasn’t any at all.

It's the morning of the X Factor auditions in Manchester. It's raining and Zayn Malik is stuck in front of a guy dressed as Britney Spears. He's ready to peace out but Harry Styles can't wait to go in. He's not being smug, but he knows he can sing, so when the judges say no, he's devastated. Zayn finds him crying in the toilets before his audition and realises that he doesn't want it that bad. Four years later and Zayn's living in East London and about to graduate from Central Saint Martins while Harry's in a band and living in Camden. Their lives couldn't be more different, but when their paths cross again will they get what they want this time?

Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see. That’s what his father always tells him with that smile of his, the one that says, I’ll tell you that much, but the rest will cost you. Harry never knew what he meant, but he gets it now that he’s sitting in the dim bar of another hotel he won’t sleep in, the ice melting in his £18 gin and tonic. He doesn’t even like gin and tonic, but it’s all part of the game. And it is a game. It has to be, because if it isn’t that means he doesn’t enjoy it and he does.