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finerllines · 2 years

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love, harry [bestfriend!h au]

a/n: hello everyone i hope yall are still here and reading!! im so sorry it took so long i had a major slump for a couple of months but now im back and im so excited to wrap up charlie and harry's story. thank you for reading!! please give me feedback, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed <3

summary: harry needs his best friend back and he will do anything to get her to love him back

wc: 11k+

tw: none :-)

prev part

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One of the main occupational hazards of being a touring musician is missing things. Eventually, people learn to stop sending invitations. Just as well, it gets harder and harder to find new ways to say ‘sorry, I’ve got work’. When most of the people you grew up with have moved out of your small town, onto bigger and better things, home just becomes wherever you manage to stay for more than a month.

And that’s fine. That’s all Harry can really remember. Life became a matter of watching everyone else’s from a distance. Everyone’s except one.

Charlie.

Instead of Instagram stories and posts, it was personal photos and little vlogs about her day sent straight to him, for his eyes only. He doesn’t know what he did to earn her trust and love, but he has never taken it for granted. Somehow, she was never deterred by his lack of attendance, congratulatory texts and video calls thankfully being enough. Or it was enough, until she got pregnant.

He had worked so hard to show her it’s okay to open up and let people in again, and he went and pissed it all away. But he is determined to not let her shut him out again. Which is why he’s back at her front door, on four hours of sleep, still exhausted from the show the night before.

Nothing brings you back down to earth like standing in front of a door after performing in front of five thousand people, hands filled with grovelling supplies, shaking as it raises to knock.

Despite the many women he’s dated, grovelling is new to him. He likes to think he’s a pretty good boyfriend - he’s attentive, patient, and thoughtful. But by the time they get to the point where he would need to grovel, he normally already has one foot out the door, so instead of trying to make amends he accepts their fate and ends things. Cruel? Sure. But it’s the truth. He’s never really loved or cared about anyone enough to want to make the extra effort.

Except Charlie. And Charlie has never been mad at him.

Until now. Justifiably so.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to have this conversation, it’s all he’s wanted to do since their call, he just doesn’t know where to start.

Should he bring up the pure rage he felt when he saw the pictures of them and Richard? Or is that something he should save for later, after he has figured all of that out himself? He’s a jealous guy, everyone knows that, but he’s never felt jealousy so ugly and intense like that before, it felt so primitive and guttural; the near uncontrollable urge to remind Richard, and everyone, that Charlie does not belong to him. Problem is, Charlie doesn’t belong to him either. And neither does Rory. Less so now than ever.

He used to think he feels so strongly about her because she is a piece of his childhood, a piece of the Harry he used to be. Now, these feelings are undeniably romantic. None of her previous partners ever felt like a real threat because he was always confident that their history and the connection is stronger than anything these men would have to offer her. Then Richard made a baby with her. Talk about a connection.

Those weeks spent with Rory and Charlie were bliss. There hasn’t been a day spent without thinking about how they were doing since: whether Rory ate all her breakfast, or whether Charlie found the time to watch an episode of Taskmaster with a glass of wine. And when the domestic got too emotional for him, he would start to wonder what her skin would feel like if he ran his hand under her shirt, or what sounds she would make if he nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck, peppering it with soft kisses and licks.

But none of that is as important as their friendship. So, until he figures out all of that out for himself, he needs to focus on apologising and begging for forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, he wipes his palms on his thighs before knocking the door. While waiting, he talks himself through more deep breaths. It’s a good thing he did because when the door gets pulled open his breath hitches a little.

Finally seeing the person you’ve been missing and thinking about is almost life giving. Charlie is stunning, even in an old robe and a braid that looks like it was slept in.

“Harry, hi.”

He had been mentally bracing himself for iciness in her voice. Instead, all he hears is wariness, and half of her body remains hidden behind the door

Charlie is wary of him. Shit.

“Um, H?” she asks when he doesn’t respond.

“Hi,” he raises a hand as a greeting on instinct, forgetting that he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” She replies as if it’s ridiculous that he has to ask, but she can't see how guarded she looks right now.

A wave of déjà vu hits. The uncertainty and ball of emotion in his belly reminds Harry of the day he came to confront Charlie about having a baby.

She walks in front of him guiding him to the kitchen.

“Rory’s just eaten breakfast, I’m getting started on mine. You can join me if you’d like.”

In the kitchen playing with a hand towel is the most cheerful baby. The smile that emerges on his face is instinctive, and it’s fortunately shared by Rory. He’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking but he thinks he sees her eyes light up with recognition. He wants to pick her up and cuddle her close, for his own comfort more than anything, but he reminds himself of the agenda and redirects his attention to his best friend.

Standing in the middle of her kitchen, kind of stupidly, he thrusts his hands forward, like a young boy presenting a gift to his crush for the first time.

“For you.”

Her brows quirk up. “For me?”

He nods. “Who else?”

“I don’t know, thought you might be just making a pit stop.” She takes the bouquet first, taking the time to admire the assortment of flowers. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”

After getting it situated in an old jar from under the sink she takes the small gift bag. Setting it on the kitchen counter, she starts to pull things out.

“Is this …” she trails off as she studies the items on the counter.

“It’s the special knife spoon thing you talked about. The one that is designed to get all the peanut butter out the jar. And I got you another set of those small and long wooden spoons.”

She doesn't say anything for a moment and continues staring at his offerings.

While scratching the nape of his neck he says, “Sorry, it was hard to find an apology gift that is meaningful and yet wouldn’t make you mad because I spent a shitload of money on it. I’ll get you a proper gift soon but I didn’t have too much time because of, you know, the –“

“Harry,” she cuts him off firmly, “I love it, thank you. It means a lot, really.” Stepping forward, she wraps her arms around him, squeezing tightly, cheek pressed comfortably against his body.

His heart tightens in his chest. He’s missed this. He was afraid he might never experience this again.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I feel like all I’ve done since coming back is apologise but I need you to forgive me one more time, please. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You know that, right? I … I was just irrationally jealous and hurt that I wanted to hurt you too. It’s fucked up, but it’s the truth. You’ll only get the truth from now on. I promise. Please believe me.”

How can she not believe him?

The extra precautions taken to keep her anonymity as much as possible while also making sure she could be as involved in his life as she wants. Years of texts, calls, and everything in between where they exposed their truest selves to each other without fear of judgement. Even the way he is holding her now, breath racing in and out, like he might break down if she doesn’t believe him.

“H, I believe you. The things you said … they were fucked. But I can’t stay mad at you, even if I tried.”

Shaking his head, he mumbles into her hair, “Thank you. Thank you. You’re too good for me. You shouldn’t make it so easy for a guy, you deserve grovelling. And I will, I’m not done making it up to you.”

They both hug each other tighter, gripping the fabric on each other’s backs.

“I don’t need grovelling; you’ve already done so much. Besides, you bought me my first bouquet of flowers in like four years and you got me presents that tell me you pay attention to me. I rambled to you about loving small spoons with long handles and how much I hate not being able to clean out the peanut butter jar ages ago, and somehow you were actually listening and remembered.”

“That wanker never got you flowers?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, too practical for that. And for small spoons too.” She coughs to clear her throat. “Also, you’re allowed to curse him you. You were right.”

“About what?” Harry asks.

She makes no effort to explain, simply shrugging her shoulders in faux nonchalance. There’s a brief silence once again, then, a chill shoots up his spine. He places his hands on her forearms and pushes her far back enough to be able to see her face.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Not now, please. Can we talk about it later? I missed you and I don’t want to think about him.”

Of course. He never wants to think about Richard more than necessary anyways.

“Okay, I don’t want him ruining our time together. I want to spend time with my best girls.”

Harry ended up staying the night.

He woke up with Charlie’s head tucked under his, and her knees curled into herself on his lap. Despite the kink in his neck and the knot between his shoulders, he can’t bring himself to separate from her. The heat emanating from her body warms him in a way that soothes him. Their bodies haven’t been this close in forever, not since they were children and had sleepovers in the backyard where they always somehow woke up curled into each other.

Growing up together meant going through that awkward stage of being afraid to get too touchy with each other, and by the time they moved past that, they had both started developing real crushes and entering relationships with other people. Harry thought they were pretty affectionate for platonic friends anyways, but the way they’re intertwined now makes him realise that they can be so much closer, so, so much closer.

Charlie’s face is right there. He can see every crevice, bump, and wrinkle on her skin. His eyes can’t help but trace every feature - round her eyes, down the slope of her nose, and across her lips. He can’t pull his eyes away from her lips. They sit together so perfectly, in the perfect pout, begging to be pinched, bitten, and kissed. Begging to be pinched, bitten, and kissed by him specifically.

He doesn’t notice his face inching towards hers until their noses brush, causing her to tense in his arms. Harry freezes, watching tentatively as her lips purse and eyes squeeze tightly together.

“Uhhmm?” she groans.

Harry slowly moves his hand up and down Charlie’s back hoping to ground her as she slowly wakes up.

“It’s me, darling. Harry.”

“Hmm? H?”

She’s so precious. Harry feels like his heart might burst from how hard it’s beating.

“I’m right here. Good morning.”

With a big huff, her eyes blink open. Her forehead is pinched with confusion as she takes in her surroundings. Slowly pulling her arm from under his body, she reaches up and places her hand on Harry’s face, patting his cheek a couple of times as if trying to make sure he's really there.

With a little chuckle, he covers her hand with his, holding it in place on his cheek. Tilting his head slightly, he presses a small kiss to her palm. “Darling, I’m here. I came over yesterday and we fell asleep on the couch. Remember?”

Satisfied with his explanation, Charlie lets her body go lax against his.

Harry can’t help but smile at the way she trusts him, even half asleep.

Despite being forgiven almost immediately, there’s still a sense of uneasiness that he cannot shake. All of that is in his head though because Charlie has done nothing to make him feel uncertain. The looks, touches, and words they shared yesterday can only be described as tender, both of them obviously still emotionally fragile.

Richard’s fuck up is still unknown to Harry. He doesn’t care though. Not right now anyways. He got to kiss Rory’s cheeks until she erupted into excited giggles and watch as her gorgeous eyes slowly fluttered shut as she fell asleep in his rocking arms. Then, a tired but smiley Charlie tucked herself against him as they watched tv and talked about life with their heads pressed together.

But the feel good atmosphere of yesterday has dissipated, both of them forced to return to reality under the morning sunlight.

A strong vibration bursts their bubble.

When Charlie tries to peel herself from Harry, his arm quickly circles her waist to keep her close to him as he leans to grab his phone on the coffee table.

“Hello?” his voice is gruff from sleep. “I know … I’ll be there on time. I said I’ll be there … yes I know what I’m doing. Okay, bye.”

Talk about returning to reality.

“You need to go,” she says, not asks.

He nods. “I uh, didn’t get in my car to London this morning so they’re just wondering where I am. I have a show there tonight.”

Right. Harry just kicked off his new tour and suddenly appeared at her door after the first show.

The air around them is still as the two friends try to make sense of all that’s happened.

“Of course, you’re an important man.”

“Not too important for you and Rory.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk, like properly, last night, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m glad you came, H, and Rory was thrilled to see you. She missed you, a lot. I’ve played your album so much she recognises your voice.”

Harry’s eyes pretty much glaze over at the thought. “Thank you for letting be in her life”

Charlie shakes her head and grabs his hands that have started to tremble. “You don’t need to thank me. I can't imagine you not being in her life. We’re Harry and Charlie, so I'm stuck with you.”

“You’re too good to me,” he whispers, “And we’re Harry, Charlie, and Rory.”

He has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from saying everything he wants to say. With the last bit of self-control left in his body, he rests his forehead against hers as they lock eyes.

Then, a loud buzzing emanates from the coffee table again. With a frustrated huff, his eyes shut.

“Hey,” she squeezes his hand, “your fans need you.”

They emerge from their little cocoon on the sofa in silence, moving wordlessly in sync as Harry pays Rory one last visit, then leaves for London after a tight hug from his best friend.

As Charlie shuts the door behind her, she can’t help but feel that her living room now feels a little empty. All that’s left is the weight of everything left unsaid between them lingering in the air.

Better Homes and Gardens Exclusive: Harry Styles Shares the Meaning Behind His New Album, 'Harry's House'

Pop music’s most sought after man has a new album coming out and the world is excited. This new release comes from a relatively quiet quarantine period from Styles. He was set to kick off his world tour for his last album, Fine Line, when travel and group restrictions worldwide were announced, and his world went quiet all of a sudden.

His new album showcases an unexpected domestic side to his glistening life. Themes of family, belonging, and domestic bliss shine through so evidently that I can’t help but wonder if all of this is hypothetical or anecdotal.

I bite the bullet and ask. Before I get an answer, he lets out a small laugh, as if he has been expecting it.

“It’s definitely not an autobiography but all the songs come from a very real place in my life. The best thing about writing from real life is that as time passes my relationship with these songs change. Even from when I wrote them up to now, some of these songs listen completely different.”

I ask if that is good or bad. “Depends”, he says after ruminating to himself, “it depends on whether there are any fresh wounds.” Right now, he confesses, some wounds are pretty fresh. “Some are hard to listen to and I’m a little nervous to sing them if I’m honest.”

His earnestness is hard to miss – it shines through in his eyes and his voice. Tucked away in our little corner of the coffeeshop, I can’t help but feel like my high school crush has somehow decided to confide in me and unveil what’s beneath the good looks and charm. I feel almost privileged to be the chosen one, entrusted with his sincerity and vulnerability.

There is nothing manmade or artificial about this man – at least not when it comes to his music. He speaks about each song with so much passion, excitement, and on a couple of occasions, uncertainty. That took me by surprise. He has learnt to let go of needing to be well liked by every listener, he tells me proudly, but the need to impress those he loves will forever be there. Whether that is a strength or a weakness he has yet to figure out.

“That need is almost stronger now. Sometimes songs become a kind of coded message for those who know what I’m singing about. And it’s scary, waiting for a reaction or some approval,” he confesses.

“I spent so much time at home this past year, but I felt like my actual home is someplace else, somewhere that I couldn’t be at that moment in time. Allowing myself to feel everything that I felt and reflect on why I’m feeling these things helped me make sense of all of that. Now I know where my home is, or at least I know where to go to find it.”

From the way he speaks I get the impression that he needs this album to be heard by some people. Not everyone, but a select few. Even though these songs weren’t necessarily written for me, I can’t help but feel excited to enter Harry’s House.

Charlie misses Harry. Like really misses Harry. Getting that little taste of him unlocked the door of longing deep within her and now it won’t shut. Like when you skip lunch then eat a cracker a couple hours later, unleashing a wave of insatiable hunger that can only be made quiet by eating until you cannot breathe anymore.

Basically, she needs so much of Harry until she cannot breathe. Until all she can think about is him.

Something changed. The moment she shut the door behind him that fateful morning, it was like a switch flipped and all she could do from then on is think about him. She’s missed him before, of course, but she’s never quite like this.

She can’t remember if anyone has ever looked at her so tenderly before. Harry’s definitely the most attentive man she’s ever met. Maybe it’s because she has the shitshow of a conversation with Richard to compare it to, but Harry said sorry, and for some reason that was more than enough for her.

Is she an idiot for choosing to believe a man’s words after just being lied to by another? Perhaps. Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do about it. Everything in her wants Harry.

The only contact she’s had with him since he left is a couple of texts. They’ve been casual, nothing too serious – he likes to have serious conversations in person – but enough to let her know that he’s still thinking about her.

“What do you think Rory? You’re a smart girl, right? You latched onto Harry but didn’t really want to play along with Richard, so what gave it away huh? Why didn’t you tell your mummy?”

The dangerous thing about getting too attached to Harry – that is, getting attached in a non-platonic way or in a father-figure to Rory kind of way – is that she’ll grow too dependent on him for assurance. Hearing him tell her that she is a good mother affected her more than she would like to admit. His words already hold too much weight, it would not be smart to give him more authority.

If the Richard catastrophe had to have a silver lining, it made Charlie realise that she needs to get her shit together and live up to the whole ‘strong, independent woman’ thing. She went from being satisfied in her own little world where all that mattered was her and her daughter, to feeling like Rory needed Richard’s love to be complete, as if her as a mother was not enough.

So, as much as her heart hates that Harry’s not here, her brain knows it’s for the best. She hasn’t had a moment like this in a while. Just her and her daughter having a quiet moment together. Sometimes she thinks it’s weird that she's a grown adult with a very adult job with very adult responsibilities, but she speaks to her year old daughter as if she’s a colleague, full sentences and everything.

“You like Harry, huh. What’d you think you’ll call him when you can speak? Uncle Harry? Or just Harry maybe. If you come up with some sort of cute nickname for him, he’ll love it.”

Rory looks up at her with a toy truck in her mouth, drool basically dripping off the toy.

Reaching for a tissue, Charlie sighs with amusement. “You’re just an angel aren’t you.”

It’s about two months later that Charlie and Harry reunite in person. He carved out a free couple of weeks and invited Charlie and Rory down to his flat in London for a ‘sleepover’, as he so put it.

Everything is sorted out for the both of you to stay over. The cot I ordered for Rory has already arrived so you can’t say no. xx

He greets them in the underground carpark. Charlie first sees him when the car he chartered pulls up in front of the lift lobby. With hands clasped behind his back, he has his eyes glued to the entrance, a smile breaking out on his face when he spots them.

After opening the door for them, his hands reconvene behind his back. She can tell they are tightly clenched from the way his forearms flex.

“Hi,” he says, voice a little tentative. He still doesn’t make a move to touch her.

“Hi,” she replies.

She can tell Harry is itching to do something - hug her or kiss her on the cheek - literally anything. His self-restraint is impressive, but she decides to put him out of his misery.

“Can you help bring Rory up please? I’ve got my hands full with the bags.”

He’s nodding instantly. The moment Charlie moves away from the door he’s swooping in to unbuckle the little girl gleefully.

“Hi my little monkey. C’mere.” His voice is soft and intimate.

Harry carries Rory on his front in the baby byon on the lift ride up. Charlie can’t pull her eyes away from their reflection in the mirror the entire time, and Harry can’t pull his eyes from Rory, who is taking in the new surroundings with curious eyes, swinging her chubby little legs back and forth.

Charlie wants to tattoo this image onto the inside of her brain.

It’s almost frightening how easily they slip back into their domestic routine. Apart from the slight tentativeness in their actions, they move around the space with complete familiarity. Before he puts Rory down, he makes sure to look at Charlie for approval first, and when she starts exploring his living room on wobbly steps, he makes sure to trail behind her, ready to grab her if she tries to walk into furniture.

He’s not sure if it’s all in his head, but Rory seems to have become a toddler in his short absence, which makes his heart ache a little. His desire to be there to witness Rory growing up probably crosses some sort of line, especially since Charlie made it clear that he is not a part of their family, however, out of all the inappropriate thoughts he has about Charlie, this one about watching Rory grow up is definitely the tamest.

“She’s basically a teenager now,” he jokes, successfully eliciting a giggle from Charlie.

With a prideful smile, she says, “She’s definitely a smart girl. There’s a song of yours she can recognise. When it plays it public she’ll give me a cheeky look and do a little dance.”

Harry’s head whips around to face her. “Really?”

She nods.

“What song? Do you have a video?”

Her face falters a little. “I don’t have any videos, sorry. It was mainly when we … you know.”

“Oh, right. It’s a new one then.” She nods again. “Thank you for letting me still be part of her life, even though we were –“

“- yeah.” They standing silence watching the exploring baby. “Like I said, I can’t hate you. And I would never make my daughter hate you too.”

He coughs to clear his throat. “What if … what if I want more?”

“More? Well, you’re her godfather, her only godfather, that hasn’t changed. And now that she … now that the father figure role is vacant again, you have her all to yourself.”

“Actually, I meant … um,” he scratches the back of his head, diverting his eyes. He chickens out. “Um, will you tell me about what happened with Richard?”

Charlie lets out a huff and rolls her eyes. She recounts what happened as briefly as possible, distilling Richard’s big villain monologue to only the salient bits, for her sake more than Richard’s.

“Huh,” he pinches his bottom lip, “wanker.”

“Yeah,” she replies, surprised that he doesn’t say more.

“I’m sorry though.”

“Why are you sorry? Richard’s shitty behaviour has nothing to do with you.”

Is this the right time to tell her that Richard’s ego competition with him was not just all in his head? That whenever Richard’s around Harry makes sure to be a bit more attentive and a bit more of a gentleman? That he gets all smug inside when Charlie’s friends tell him what a good boyfriend he’d be? And that he definitely makes sure to shoot Richard a small smirk whenever their eyes meet at parties?

Probably not.

In his defence, Harry owns up to his petty jealousy.

“Because he wouldn’t have come back to mess with you if those photos never got posted. And being slightly less of a dick than him doesn’t say much. The both of you mean so much to me, I panicked and got insecure, so I lashed out and said those fucked up things.”

“Insecure? Because of Richard?”

His nose scrunches, embarrassed. “He was never my biggest fan, and I just knew that once he got the chance, he would find a way to keep Rory away from me, keep you away from me. That’s like my worst nightmare. And being the main man in Rory’s life, Richard doesn’t deserve that. It’s entitled, selfish, and very wrong, but I can’t help it.”

Charlie goes silent at his little confession. “You’d only spent like, two weeks with Rory. I didn’t realise you’d care so much so quickly.”

“I fell in love with her the moment I heard about her. I felt betrayed and angry, but also enamoured, instantly. I didn’t even need to see her. I missed her before I met her.”

To say that Charlie loves Harry would not only be an understatement, but a mistranslation of something so intense and all consuming. Where had this man come from and why hadn’t she noticed sooner.

“Harry, I –“

“- even if I never got to see her again, I would still think about her, all the time. Just like how I’m always thinking about you.”

Their eyes lock in an intense stare, neither knowing what to do next.

Blinking away some rogue tears, Charlie closes her mouth that involuntarily fell slightly agape and crosses the short distance to make her way to Harry. With trembling hands, she interlaces her fingers with his and squeezes.

“I’m afraid that if I say everything I want to tell you, you’ll get scared and run away.” His voice is hushed. If they weren’t standing so close, she would not have heard him.

“I want to hear them.”

“Okay,” he replies. He’s smiling shyly now.

They both linger in the silence as if instinctively knowing that the rest of this conversation has to happen later. That neither of them are brave enough to have this conversation yet.

That night, he brings his girls out for ramen at his favourite spot. They sit facing each other in a booth at the back of the restaurant with Rory at the head of the table in a baby chair. He asks for the baby chair and a set of smaller utensils without any prompting, in fact, Charlie didn't get the chance to bring it up. He gets his favourite tonkatsu ramen and she gets the shio. When the two steaming bowls get placed in front of them, he reaches for Rory’s bowl, again unprompted, and puts in a couple strands of ramen and some soup, making sure to cut up the noodles with a fork and blow on it until it seems cool enough. In between bites of his own food, he checks to make sure Rory is eating her dinner okay, peeking into her little plastic bowl to make sure she’s not running low on food, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

Conversation at the table is minimal. Apart from some comments about the food and the restaurant, the main thing that can be heard from their table is baby babble and slurping.

Charlie likes it this way, she thinks, being able to soak in this moment without any urgency to clear the air or lay everything out on the table. Her heart's aflutter the entire time. To anyone in the restaurant, they just look like a regular family having dinner together and this normalcy is quite frankly making her freak out inside.

Dinner ends relatively early – they need to get back in time for bedtime. The guest bedroom now has a cot in it, the exact one Charlie has back home. He’s a little nervous when Charlie starts examining the stuff he bought. He’s not nervous that he bought the wrong stuff, he’s nervous that she’ll think it’s strange that he knew exactly what to get, that he memorised Rory’s bedtime routine all the way down to the temperature of the room.

She doesn’t comment on anything, of course, she just looks at him with stars in her eyes.

This trip to London is supposed to be a holiday for Charlie, or at least that is what Harry intended. Fine, a city she’s been to dozens of times is not much of a holiday, but Rory has never been out of Manchester, and he stays in a luxury apartment complex complete with a pool and spa.

In his head, he would kiss Charlie goodbye (just on the forehead for now) and head to rehearsals with Rory on his hip, giving her the whole day to enjoy some time to herself. In reality, the uncertainty when he proposes his idea might as well have been written across her face.

“That sounds nice H, but … this is her first time away from home and I don’t really feel okay with not having here with me.” Charlie’s voice suddenly gets louder when she realises what she is implying. “Not to say that I don’t trust you or anything, you’re her godfather of course, but it’s been –“

“Hey, I get it. Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended. I just want you to have some actual time off. You’ve been through quite a lot these past months.”

“I appreciate it, I really do. No one’s quite as thoughtful as you, H.”

Harry turns away to put away their dishes from dinner in the sink, making sure to tuck his face into his chest as best he can to try and to hide the flush blooming on his cheek.

“Well, I’ve got rehearsals tomorrow but my whole evening is free and there’s a Korean restaurant that’s really good. Let me take you, yeah.”

With her back still turned to him, she teases, “Are you asking me out, Styles?”

“Um, we eat together all the time and I would never –“

“Oh, you would never,” she interrupts in mock offence, “I got the picture.”

“That’s not what I meant. The whole Richard thing was so recent I would never try to do anything.”

“H,” she turns to put her hands on his now tense shoulders, “I was just teasing. Korean sounds good. Thanks, H.”

“I’m happy to,” he says, tilting his head back to bump Charlie’s head.

And he means it.

“Hi,” Charlie calls out as she knocks on the door, “sorry we’re early but one of us got a little grumpy. Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Every head in the soundproof room whips around at the new voice. But the person she came in looking for was not one of them.

“Charlie!” Sarah exclaims excitedly, “Hey, not at all we’re almost done. Come in. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

At the mention of her name, everyone else’s face seems to light up with recognition, all joining in with an enthusiastic greeting.

Rory, who was hiding her pouty little face in her mother’s neck, now perks up a tiny bit at the attention.

“And who is this adorable little girl,” Sarah coos, waving a few fingers to try and catch Rory’s attention.

“This is Rory. She might be a little shy because she’s never been around so many people like this before. You wanna say ‘hi’, lovie.” She angles her daughter on her hip to better face Harry’s band and crew.

Despite being in a bad mood the whole day, she refused to take a nap even though she was very patiently rocked for about an hour, Rory is now smiling cheekily, showing off her growing teeth to everyone.

“Can you say ‘hi’?” Charlie prompts again.

Rory drops her head abruptly onto her mother’s cheek. Then, she lets out a noise that vaguely sounds like she’s saying ‘hi’. As if on cue, everyone melts into a puddle of ‘awws’.

“Don’t be fooled she’s not normally this shy. She loves the attention, a little performer.”

With a small smile, Mitch says, “She’s adorable. I see why Harry doesn’t shut up about her. She’s probably his little protégé huh. Maybe our kids can have a little playdate sometime, they’re around the same age.”

“Oh,” Charlie’s caught a little off guard by his revelation, “sure, that sounds nice. She doesn’t get the chance to play with other children too often, I’m worried she won’t learn how to share with how much attention she gets at home.”

“I bet, especially with how much Harry spoils her, huh.”

She can’t stop her cheeks from heating up.

Before she can fruitlessly deny being the object of Harry’s attention, a familiar voice is heard from behind them. “Hey, what’s going on? What are y’all – oh, you guys are early.”

Charlie spins around. “Hi, I hope it’s okay. We didn’t mean to distract everyone.”

“It’s no problem! Monkey is too adorable, how can they not be distracted.” As Harry beelines towards them, his band instinctively makes room for him. “Hi love. Hi monkey.” He gives both Charlie and Rory a kiss on the cheek which causes the little girl to turn her head to look at him. After a couple seconds, her eyes light up with recognition.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie sees the band exchange knowing glances.

No longer wanting to be the centre of attention, she insists that everyone get back to work, making her way to the sofa in the corner before anyone can object. (The only person who objects is Rory who tries to make silly faces at her audience for as long as she can.)

“Let’s finish rehearsing so that we can end on time. We don’t want monkey to get too hungry,” Harry instructs.

On the sofa, Charlie sits Rory down next to her. She digs in her handbag for the toys that she always carries with her to hopefully keep her daughter from interrupting the rehearsal. Before she can hand the car to Rory, a larger hand extends into her line of vision with a small pair of green headphones.

“Here, these are for monkey. They should fit her, I double checked to make sure they ordered the right size. I told the band to try and keep it a little quieter, we’ve only got a couple songs left, but just in case maybe she should wear it.”

“You got baby headphones for Rory?”

“Yeah, I want her to come see a show eventually, especially since you said she can recognise my voice, so I went ahead and got these.” The headphones exchange hands and his go behind his back immediately. “I’m not trying to pressure you by the way I was just …”

“H, you don’t need to walk around eggshells around me, or assume that I doubt your intentions.” She quickly scans the room. Satisfied that the other in the room are occupied, she assures softly, “I know you’re not Richard.”

The relief that takes over his body is hard to miss. “I just want to take care of her, and you. The last time I tried to do that I went too far. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

It’s a surprise that Charlie can see anything because she’s sure she has hearts for eyes. Slow down, don’t get carried away. The reminder doesn’t work, none of the remaining rehearsal registers in her mind, the only time she manages to break out of her reverie is when her daughter starts squirming next to her and trying to take the headphones off. She somehow managed to understand that the music has stopped, so she’s allowed to take them off.

While she’s putting everything back into her purse, Harry thanks everyone for a good rehearsal and sends everyone off with applause. Rory, who has now crawled off the couch, joins in with the excitement by clapping her tiny hands together. Despite producing a negligible amount of noise, Harry manages to see her in his periphery.

“That’s right monkey. Say ‘yay’,” he says while slowly crouching down to meet her eyes. “Say ‘yay’, monkey.”

“Yay!” Rory chimes back.

Harry looks up to meet Charlie’s eyes as if wanting confirmation that that actually happened.

With a downward smile and raised eyebrows, she shoots him a tiny head nod as silent acknowledgement.

When they finally leave for dinner, Harry has Rory in one hand and Charlie’s purse hanging off the other, leaving Charlie to wave goodbye to everyone with a shy smile knowing exactly what this scene looks like.

Tonight doesn’t feel like any of the previous nights.

For a start, Rory isn’t within arms reach of Charlie. And instead of wearing one of the many sensible outfits she brought with her she’s somehow in a dress worth more than her monthly pay.

Harry’s label is throwing a release party tonight, something he conveniently forgot to mention when convincing her to come down to London. An hour into the night, Charlie finds herself sipping on her second glass of champagne and people watching from the sofa at the edge of the room. The dim lights and loud music make her feel safe, like a protective blanket offering some level of anonymity. Not that the party is particularly unsafe. She’s been to enough of Harry’s work events to not feel completely like a fish out of water – smile politely when he introduces her, nurse a glass of whatever to give her hands something to do, and cling to Harry until all the attention becomes too overwhelming. She’s on step three right now, hence the sitting.

Her palm is damp from the condensation from her glass, the champagne now edging on the side of too warm, but she’s too tired to be bothered, her vision having settled on a comfortable level of blurry.

“Long night?” a voice interrupts.

Her head snaps up to see an unfamiliar man looking down at her with a confident smile.

“Uh, yeah.”

The man moves to sit next to her, forcing her to angle her body to face him.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I’m Wes.”

She plasters on her polite grin once again and covertly takes a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you,” she introduces as she shakes his hand.

“So, why are you sitting all alone with a half drunk glass of bubbly? The night is still young.”

“The night might be but I’m not,” she plays along.

The volume of Wes’ laugh is disproportionate to how funny her joke is.

“Do you want a little pick me up? I’d love if I could have one dance with you.”

Her brows raise when her brain catches on to what is happening. “I don’t know if I have any more dancing left in me,” she says as if she has done any dancing tonight at all.

“That’s fair. Talking’s fine with me too.”

“Oh, you don’t have to sit here with me, I’m fine by myself. Go have fun, find someone else to dance with. The night’s still young after all.”

“Well, you happen to be the most interesting person in the room right now, so I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Wes’ voice is buttery smooth and his confidence is alluring. Normally her face would flush under all the attention of a self-assured man, however she isn’t feeling it tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Actually, I –“

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. Hey, you’re Waz right?”

“Wes, but yeah. Hey Harry, congratulations.”

“Sorry to interrupt, I need to borrow Charlie.”

Without giving Wes room to dispute, Harry tugs Charlie to her feet by the bicep, ditches her champagne flute after shooting the rest of the alcohol, and leads her to the baby room where Rory and Sarah’s baby is being cared for by a babysitter.

When the door shuts behind her, she asks, “You needed me?”

“Hmm?” Harry hums absentmindedly as he peeks into Rory’s stroller.

“You said you needed me?” she tries again.

“Right. I was bored and wanted your company.” He punctuates his words with a dismissive shrug.

“Harry!”

“What? I missed you.”

“Is that all? Really?”

He shrugs again. She rolls her eyes, yet she can’t stop smiling.

They sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, backs pressed against the wall in the silent room. Their only companions are the two babies who are sound asleep, and the babysitter who is sitting on a chair in the corner, trying her hardest to seem preoccupied with her phone.

There could be a hundred other people squeezed into this tiny room, but Charlie would still feel like they are the only two people present. Harry just has that effect on her. His talent for making her feel seen and wanted is astounding.

Sitting facing a plain white wall, Harry starts talking about anything and everything. In the middle of his extensive review of all the dessert options at the refreshments table, her hand finds his and interlocks their fingers tightly. She slouches down to rest her head on his bicep. He reciprocates without missing a beat, cheek resting on the top of her head. She can feel his every breath and she’s sure he can feel the same.

She doesn’t notice that her eyes have closed until a loud buzz emits from Harry’s pocket. He doesn’t move to address it, so she lets herself get comfortable again, only to be interrupted again by a stream of vibrations.

“H, your phone.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. His hand enters and exits his pocket quickly then reaches over to encourage her head to lay on his shoulder again.

“Go check it, it may be important.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.”

They return to their conversation with Harry rambling and Charlie humming in affirmation or disagreement. As her eyes flutter shut again, comforted by the low rumbling of his voice, she focuses on his thumb that is now drawing little circles on her palm to stay awake. It doesn’t work very well because she does fall asleep and is only woken up by harsh whispers.

“… this was done for you, so it would be nice if you could be present at your own party. Everyone has been coming up to me to ask about you. And why aren’t you reading my texts?”

“I am present. I’ve said ‘hi’ to everyone, thanked all the important people, and posed for all the photos.”

“But you’re now hiding here. Doing none of those things.”

“Shh, Charlie is asleep, and so are the babies. Don’t raise your voice.”

“Why are you in here playing babysitter when you are supposed to be mingling and making connections?”

“I’m Harry Styles. That trumps whatever connections I could make.”

Then, there’s a loud smacking sound. Her eyes are still shut but any idiot could guess that the Jeff just smacked his forehead in exasperation. She would too if Harry said something so stupid to her.

“At least say goodbye and thank everyone before you leave, okay? Can you do that one thing.”

“Yes dad.”

Charlie gives up her ruse when she hears the door shut. Peeking out of one eye, she whispers, “Is Jeff gone?”

“You cheeky fucker.” Harry cups her jaw and squishes her cheeks together. “You didn’t think to help me out? You just let me get scolded by Jeff?”

She sits up slowly while rubbing her eyes. “Please, you weren’t getting scolded. I’m Harry Styles. That trumps whatever connections I could make. Pfft.”

As she tries to stand, tattooed arms curl around her waist, trapping her to his side. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me when I got us out of trouble.”

She squirms in his arms and tries to wriggle free with no success. The more she moves the tighter his arms get.

“Us? I am not the man of the hour. This party is not for me rockstar.”

He cups the back of her head with a hand to press her full body against him basically tucking her into his side. “Well unfortunately for you I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. So, if I have to go out and mingle, so do you.”

“You little bitch. You begged me to come here with you.”

“I’m a little bitch?” he whisper-shouts in mock offence.

They start play wrestling in their little corner of the room, completely forgetting that there is a stranger in there with them. Their exchange of tickles and pinches causes them to topple over so that they’re now lying on the ground, Charlie’s body pressing into Harry’s with his arms still circling her waist. When they eventually tire themselves out, they remain stacked on top of each other trying to catch their breath.

He starts playing with the ends of her hair, twirling strands around his fingers then releasing it, only to start twirling it again. Lying with the woman who occupies all of his heart, mucking about on the dirty floor, Harry doesn’t think he has felt this content in a long time.

“Thank you for being here with me, it wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t speak throughout this release.”

“Well, I had to be here, for continuity’s sake, I’ve been there since your shitty X Factor audition.” Charlie clears her throat dramatically, then starts to croon, “Isn’t she lovely, isn’t she –“

“Hey fuck you,” Harry says between giggles and starts to tickle her again.

The door suddenly whips open, Jeff’s stern expression in the doorway.

“Good, nap time is over. Now, go mingle with the guests, please.”

Like reluctant children, Charlie and Harry detangle themselves and straighten their clothes, then dart out the door without making eye contact with Jeff. The moment they are out of Jeff’s eyeline, Harry grabs her hand and tugs her towards him, then shoots her a mischievous grin, like a kid with a secret. His energy is infectious, so, she returns the smile and glues herself to his side gleefully, tucking the moment they shared into a safe space in her brain.

It’s well past three in the morning by the time they’re stumbling out of the car, shushing each other repeatedly to avoid waking Rory up. Neither of them are drunk, that would be irresponsible because Rory is with them, but they are certainly not sober either. Harry has Rory’s car seat hooked on his elbow and he digs into his pocket to produce the house keys for Charlie. They ditch their shoes by the door before heading off to get ready for bed. Harry beelines toward the guest room to get Rory settled and Charlie starts doing the nightly check around the house.

Charlie is applying moisturiser when she hears gentle knocks on the door.

Harry stands behind the door in his boxers.

“Miss me already?” she teases.

He nods. Without thinking, she pinches his bottom lip that is jutting out in a pout. “Can we have a sleepover?”

She lets out a small giggle. "Okay."

He peeks into Rory’s crib before crawling into bed. The length of the day is evident in his face and yet, she can’t help but think he looks adorable with nothing but his head peeking out from under the duvet.

When they started secondary school, they had mutually agreed that they were now too old to have sleepovers. Their usual ‘boy-girl’ activities had to be minimised because they didn’t ‘like each other like that’. Despite being supportive of this decision, Harry remembers how much lonelier his life had become once they stopped spending as much time with each other. He missed getting hello and goodbye hugs, and the way they would lean against each other whenever they would watch tv. The next time they exchanged more than a brief side hug was before his audition. Charlie had grabbed his shaking hands, gave them a firm squeeze, then wrapped him in a hug so tight that he felt his breath catch. His eyes had shut on instinct from the suddenness of everything and the sudden rush of heat that zipped up his body when he felt her body press against his.

Now that Harry has acknowledged that what he feels towards Charlie goes beyond the usual ‘boy-girl’ friendship, he wants to be close to her all the time. He flips onto his belly and rests an arm over her stomach. When that faces no resistance, he curls his fingers around her waist and wiggles closer until he can feel her body heat.

“You mean so much to me,” he mumbles into the pillow, “I need to tell you how much I love you.”

Her body goes rigid under his arm. Neither of them move, their breaths audible in the silence.

“You mean a lot to me too, H,” she whispers.

He sighs.

“Sleep,” he orders, “but stay close to me.”

“Okay, I’m right here.”

Harry wakes when a cold breeze creeps its way under the duvet. Just as he reaches for the edge of the duvet, his arm is mysteriously enrobed in warmth again. It takes a second for the action to register and when it does, he forces his eyes open. With half-shut eyes, he takes in the bed he’s on – familiar but not his own.

Charlie.

He’s still on his stomach, arm stretched out over where his companion was. The rustling from the duvet as he moves to sit up against the headboard alerts the room that he’s awake. As he rubs the sleep from his eyes, he spots Charlie who is standing by the crib holding Rory.

He smiles softly at the sight. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she returns his smile. “You can go back to sleep. Rory was just a little fussy in her crib.”

“Bring her here.”

She hesitates for a moment, then makes her way back to the bed. Once Rory is placed on the soft surface, she immediately tries to walk to the middle of the bed, but the plush duvet is too much for her little limbs and she ends up plopping onto her belly with a shocked expression.

Harry giggles at the sweet girl then reaches forward to pick her up by her underarms. “C’mere,” he whispers, then kisses her chubby cheek. “Good morning, monkey.”

“She’ll start whining for breakfast soon. I can take her to the living room if you want to sleep some more.”

He shakes his head with a pout. “I wanna snuggle until breakfast.”

Rory settles against Harry’s bare chest, gnawing on her fist and slobbering all over, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s skin-to-skin with a man for the first time. Charlie joins them under the covers, eyes never leaving her daughter, trying to take in the scene before her. The thought of lying in bed with her daughter and a man she loves had never crossed her mind. Not even before Richard left the first time. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. Like there’s not enough space in her chest to accommodate the amount of love she feels in heart. Even though she woke up with her mind swirling from what Harry said to her before they fell asleep, right now, she can’t think of anything other than how nice this feels.

She leaves about an inch between herself and Harry which is obviously not close enough for him because he wiggles closer to her and rest his head on her shoulder. With the hand not resting on Rory’s back, Harry pats around until he finds hers and intertwines their fingers again.

Unable to help herself, Charlie comments, “You’ve been touchy recently.”

After a quiet minute, Harry asks, “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” she replies without thinking twice.

“Can I tell you how much I love you now?”

“Okay,” her whisper is weak.

He takes a deep breath.

“I love you. And I know I love you because no one has made me feel the way you do. I’ve only just accepted that it’s different with you. No one makes me as happy, no one makes me as mad, no one makes me as jealous – I just, I could not function when we weren’t speaking, I’d never felt scared like that before, and I never want to feel like that ever again, I never want to have to worry about never getting to be with you. And you love me too, you have to.”

“Harry.” Harry’s neck aches under the strain of looking up at her. His watches her throat work as she swallows, anxious for her to say more. When she does, it comes in a small whisper, “I love you.”

She doesn’t have to force it past a knot or squeeze it out of her throat. It simply floats out of her, like a sigh of relief.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice is shaky.

“Yeah.” Charlie’s voice is certain.

Tilting her head down to meet his eyes, she just stares at him with a stupid, toothy grin. Her best friend. Her lover.

They don’t get to say anything more because Rory knows how to pick her moments and she picks this one. She demands breakfast by wiping her slobbery hand on Harry’s chest, looking up at him expectantly.

By now they’ve spent many mornings like this – Rory sitting in her high chair while the adults move around the kitchen preparing breakfast together – and yet it’s somehow more special today. For a start, Harry and Charlie both wear small smiles the whole time, and whenever they bump into each other or cross paths their eyes dart away shyly, as if they didn’t declare their love to each other a minute ago.

Breakfast is apple cinnamon oatmeal topped with Charlie’s favourite peanut butter (that mysteriously appeared in Harry’s kitchen a couple days ago), with a side of coffee and shy glances over the top of coffee mugs.

He is the first to break the silence. “What are ya thinking about?”

“You.”

“Oh yeah,” he’s smirking now, “what about me?”

Charlie averts her gaze and shrugs coyly.

“Can I tell you what I’m thinking about?” She nods. “I’m thinking about you in that dress from last night. When I saw you in it, my first thought was: I should’ve wanked in the shower.”

“Harry!” she scolds, “My daughter is right here.”

“She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”

“Is this what being in a relationship with you is like? You being incredibly inappropriate?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, getting up to put the dishes in the sink.

Behind her, Harry calls out in a tone that’s only half joking, “For real though, would you like to know?”

She stays silent just to get on his nerves. It doesn’t take long for him to get out of his chair. An arm wraps around her as his body presses up against her.

He drops his voice and whispers in her ear, “Please say you would like to know.”

“I would like to know,” she admits finally. She drops her head back to rest on his shoulder and presses a kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

His face almost immediately turns scarlet. He can’t wait to get used to this.

They next have time alone when Rory has her afternoon nap. The magic of their initial declarations of love fades a little as they sit facing each other with cups of tea on the sofa. Charlie wants to wait for Harry to break the silence, but she knows he’s taking cues from her. She knows he’s careful to not push things too fast after already taking the first step this morning.

With a deep breath, she lays all her cards on the table.

She tells him that despite how assured she is of their feelings for each other, she can’t help but feel hesitant jumping into a new relationship right now. That even though she knows that he loves Rory wholeheartedly, if they were to start dating, he would need to take a step back from Rory’s life because she can’t risk her daughter getting attached to him, only for him to disappear if things go wrong between them. That she doesn’t know if she can handle having a ‘boyfriend’ rather than a ‘partner’, because she’s not looking for someone to mess around with but someone to share half her life with.

He tells her that it’s going to be a lot harder to keep their lives to themselves once everyone notices that they’re spending more time with each other, but he’ll do his best to keep them safe. That he’s willing to go as slow as she needs because he has been waiting for years already, so he can handle waiting some more. That he understands her fears and is willing to take a step back with Rory because he’s confident that she’s it for him. That he’ll bear half her burdens if she’ll bear half of his.

“You don’t have to be Rory’s dad, by the way. Being with me will be hard enough with you living away, I don’t expect you to take on that emotional burden too.”

“Hey,” Harry pinches her chin gently to tip her head up to look at him, “I know what I’m signing up for. I want to take care and provide for Rory in whatever capacity you’ll let me. She doesn’t need to call me dad, or daddy, or anything – she can decide what who I am to her when she’s old enough – but please let me be there for her, and you. The only part of my heart that is not occupied by you is occupied by her.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again, please.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I kiss you now, I’ve been waiting all day?”

She barely completes her nod before Harry’s lips are on hers. His hands cup the sides of her face and their foreheads press together with eagerness. There is no hesitation. Every move intentional.

The kiss is not innocent, but needy.

Charlie runs her hands through his hair then tugs on the hair at the top of his neck to cause him to draw back.

“Wha?” he mumbles.

“I needed to see your face to make sure this is real.”

Harry’s brows furrow as if he’s in pain. “I can’t believe it’s you. I’m so happy it’s you.”

She seals their mouths together again, tilting her head just right to get more of him. Needing to anchor herself, her hands move to his shoulders, clutching on to him as if she’s scared he’ll just disappear.

They kiss, and kiss, and kiss. They kiss until they run out of breath, then dive right back in after a few hurried puffs of air. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

Harry has to physically peel himself off of Charlie to get himself to stop. Not that he particularly wanted to stop, he was just getting a little too lightheaded. Both from the giddiness of finally getting to taste her and forgetting to breathe out of excitement. He looks drunk with his slow movements and half-lidded eyes. He feels a little high if he’s being honest.

Not wanting to be too far from her, he rests his forehead on her shoulder and starts giggling to himself.

He can’t believe his luck.

Harry’s been crawling into the guest bed every night since. Sleeping in the same bed is not exactly ‘taking it slow’ but when he couldn’t sleep alone anymore after experiencing what it’s like waking up with Charlie, especially when she’s just across the hall.

Lots of good chats have happened in this bed. They’ve discussed how their long distance relationship is going to look like, when they would tell Anne about their new relationship, and whether she’ll be less reluctant to receive his gifts now that they are more than friends.

It’s my love language. The more things you let me buy you, the more I know you love me. She rolled her eyes so hard.

“Are you ever going to tell me which songs on the album are about me?” she asks when they’re curled into each other one night.

“Lots of my songs are about you, or could be about you, but guess.”

“Matilda?”

“Mmhm,” he affirms. “There’s another.”

She hesitates a little. “Boyfriends?” she asks softly.

“No,” he replies immediately, “if I were to write a song about Richard it would be so blatant and damning that he would be embarrassed to show his face in public again.”

“That’s a little dramatic even for you, rockstar.” After giving it another think, she admits defeat. “I don’t know the other. Tell me.”

“It’s Satellite.”

“Really? I like that one.”

“Yeah.” His voice grows soft. “I actually wrote it long ago, just never felt right on the other albums, but I um … I revisited it after that night. After meeting Rory for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“Turns out I’ve wanted to be with you for years. Knowing that you had a child with Richard made me so envious – he got to be a part of your life in a way that I thought I’d never get a chance to. I didn’t wanna just be in your orbit anymore, I wanna be with you.”

“You’re with me now. You’re here.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I know Keep Driving is definitely not about me and frankly, I’m glad. You need to keep that shit to yourself from now on.”

“So … you don’t want me singing about how satisfied I make you?” he asks in jest.

“If you plan on making me listen to you sing about us having sex next to your mum and sister, we will never have sex .” When he starts to chuckle, she threatens again, “I’m being serious. I’ve gone over a year without having sex, and I can go longer.”

“That’s because you were having sex with small dick Richard. When I get to love on you the way I want to, you’ll want to let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

“You’re talking big game Mr. Watermelon Sugar.”

Harry pinches her chin to tip her head up. With his lips about an inch from hers, his says in a low voice, “And I plan on delivering.”

He seals his promise by slotting their lips together for what feels like the thousandth time that evening.

After Charlie falls asleep in his arms, Harry forces his eyes to stay open so that he can maximise his time with his best girls. When he can’t fight sleep any longer, his mutters one last ‘I love you’ and drifts off knowing that he’ll get to spend time with his favourite family again the next morning.

“Good evening Manchester!” Harry shouts into the microphone. The roar of the crowd widens the grin on his face. “Thank you for choosing to spend your evening with us. I promise that this is going to be a very, very special show.”

He slowly makes his way onto the runway.

“I always love playing shows here because this is basically a hometown show for me. And I don’t know if you guys feel it, but I feel like there is something in the air tonight. Something quite magical.”

The crowd erupts once again.

It’s probably not good practice to talk up one venue too much, that’s why most artists have a pretty standard spiel for every night, but he can’t help himself tonight. Even if he didn’t say it, everyone in the stadium could probably feel it. There is more pep in his step and the adrenaline rushing through his veins has never been this aggressive.

“Manchester, I have a special request for all of you.” He puts a finger to his lips as if he is a shushing the audience. “There are some important audience members amongst you today. So, I need all of you to go extra crazy and have an extra good time, because I’ve got some people to impress. Can you do that for me?

“This next song is for my best friend.”

Harry gets swallowed by screams as the intro to Late Night Talking starts to play.

liked by harryupdates, harryfan1, and 2,821 others

hstourupdates harry on stage in manchester tonight during late night talking

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harryfan1 wait who did he say that to?

harryfan2 i think he was talking to anne and gemma because he did that in their direction

↳ stylesontour there was another woman with a baby standing with them

↳ directioner1 it was his best friend charlie with them and harry was photographed with her daughter a while ago

↳ stylesfan1 wait what if he was pointing to charlie's baby because he kept looking at them and doing little waves 😩

harryfan3 to be harry's best friend 😭

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#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #dad!harry #harry styles dad #harry styles bestfriend

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darlingmisa · 2 years

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Moonlight on the River | Sevika

It’s 3:30am and im writing my first sev fic bc what even is sleep. Pure angst, no happy ending, very self indulgent bc my depression is hitting so fucking hard hard rn I very much apologize for this. Title is purely bc I listened to the song while writing this.

cw: angst, no comfort, talk of self hatred and all that fun stuff (not really proof-read)

wc: 1.1k

A hopeless romantic is what they would call people like you. Simply dying for the chance to be truly loved and cared for, jumping at any opportunity to be in a relationship. Consistently ignoring every red flag and concerning factor for a chance at true love, hoping it would work out. It never did, but you never learned.

And that’s what led you here. Standing alone in your shared apartment. Nothing left to clean or cook. No laundry left to wash and fold. No way to distract yourself from the fact that she wasn’t home yet. It wasn’t abnormal for Sevika to be home late some nights, or most nights, or every night. You knew that all too well. Her job was demanding to say the least, leaving you two very little time to spend together. But this was different.

It had been days, 4 to be exact, since she last came home, and since you heard anything from her. When she left, everything seemed normal. A kiss on the forehead by the door like she always did before the two of you would part ways. Except maybe things were slightly different, things you overlooked as her simply being in a rush.

The lack of an “I love you” and “see you later tonight” now linger in your mind. Maybe she never meant to see you again. It was an insane thought but you simply couldn’t help but wonder. Especially when 4 days became 6, and 6 became 12.

Although dark, your initial thought was that maybe Silco gave her something she couldn’t handle, something she wouldn’t come home from. Maybe she just didn’t make it. And you stuck with that thought until two weeks in. 14 days without her home when you went to grab a shirt of hers, not being able to stand how her smell was slowly leaving the bed you shared.

Words fail to explain the intense feeling of your heart dropping when you opened the drawer where her small number of outfits were, or where they should have been. They were gone. You spent hours checking every crevice of the apartment for something that she owned. Nothing. Everything was gone. She was gone.

It was something you couldn’t process, her leaving without a word of explanation. But here you were, left alone once again. And somehow you convinced yourself it was all your fault. It was your fault she never came home. You must’ve done something wrong, something to upset her to the point where she didn’t want you anymore.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad. Not at her. It was always your fault, no matter what you said or did, no matter how hard you tried to be the best for someone, it was never good enough. The same thought over and over, how could someone love you if you couldn't even love yourself? You knew it was hard to love someone like you. What that meant, you weren’t sure, but you’d been shown time and time again that you were never the most lovable person.

All you could do was wait. For what? Who knows. Answers? For Sevika to finally come home? For her to explain why she left, to tell you that she still loves you, that she always did? Yeah, something like that.

On Sevika’s end of things, she hated this too. She never wanted to leave you. Never in your time together did the thought of leaving you ever cross her mind. You were her everything. Something she never thought she’d ever get, or ever deserve. She loved you, and that’s why she had to leave.

Her work only grew more dangerous. Dangerous enough that anyone seen with her was a target, especially you. Everyone knew you were Sevika’s girl, which only made things worse. She couldn’t put you in danger like that. And as much as she knew it would hurt you, it was her only option.

Telling you why she had to leave wasn’t a choice either. She knew too well that you’d find some way to get her to stay. Telling her you can handle yourself and that she was stronger than anyone who went up against her. Fighting for her to stay. Sevika knew this wasn’t true. She’d lost many fights in her past. She’d lost everyone she had ever cared for. She couldn’t risk losing you too.

Sevika could only imagine how hurt you were. She knew you’d blame yourself for it, you always did. She’d spent hours comforting you over things that were obviously not your fault, things that never could be. Though you always managed to convince yourself it was.

It hurt her too, knowing you were alone by yourself, being swallowed by the self hatred she always tried so hard to help you push away. Knowing that she was the reason you were blaming yourself this time. Knowing she promised to protect you and keep you safe from any harm, physical and mental. And she couldn’t. Not only was it that she couldn’t protect you, couldn't hold you while you cry and eventually fall asleep in her arms like always, but the fact that it was her, her actions, doing all this damage to the person she loved most in the fucked up world she was living in.

It was almost unbearable for her. Everyday she fought the urge to run home just to hold you and never let you go again. Sevika was never one for apologies, but if she could she would let every sorry word fall from her lips, yet it still wouldn’t be enough to tell you how sorry she truly was for all of this. How sorry she was that she couldn’t protect you from herself.

She thought about writing a letter, or leaving a note before she left. Maybe even getting someone to deliver the message for her. But she couldn’t. She knew you’d spend all your time looking for her, begging for her to simply come home, and her face was never one she could say no to.

So she stayed away, hugging one of your sleep shirts she took with her, one of the many she gifted to you a while back, relishing in the smell of you that she loved so much. It was the only thing keeping her from running back home into your arms.

She could only hope this all would be over soon, and that you’d still be there waiting for her, but things never did go her way. Maybe one day you two would reunite again. Just maybe.

Im so sorry for this,,

#sevika arcane #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #sevika fanfic

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raveneira · 2 years

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Continuing from my other post, for those who may be curious if this finally means Im giving up on KawaSara and the possibility that it could become canon...my answer is no, Im not.

Realistically its not lookin good, Im mature enough to admit that, does that mean I think this is the end? no I do not, why? because in a decent mangaka’s writing this usually would be the ship killer, but Ikemoto isnt a decent mangaka, hes not even a decent artist, the bar is literally in hell with him on all fronts.

With this sequels writing literally ANYTHING is possible, it doesnt matter if theres build up to it or not because just look at Kawaki’s villain arc, he literally changed his whole mindset in a fkin DAY and no Im not kidding, go back and read 76, literally took only a day for him to make a complete 180.

Look at Sasuke back in 69, he understood Kawaki, empathized with him, took the blame on himself for failing to be the one to kill Boruto instead, said Konoha doesnt have anyone to blame except for him. Now look at 78, hes holdin a sword to Kawaki’s throat despite sensing Momoshiki TWICE and KNOWING why Kawaki is doing what hes doing, he LITERALLY swore to do the same and yet here he is, hunting down Kawaki like everyone else as if he never once thought about killing Boruto himself.

So do I think this is the death of KawaSara? no I dont, because this sequel switches from one narrative to another on a whim whenever it wants to, so right now things look horrible for KawaSara like theres no way things could ever work out and that they just totally hate eachother now etc but when the story feels like it actually wants to bother remembering Sarada and Kawaki’s bond it will, and if Ikemoto has decided to make them canon he literally will with or without build up because the man just does not care.

So no Im not giving up on KawaSara, and no I dont think KawaSara is dead, this writing doesnt give af about logic or build up so to say 79 really killed the ship is giving this man too much credit as a writer. Nothing is consistent, and nothing STAYS consistent either. If he suddenly wants to remember KawaSaras bond he will, and if he suddenly wants to forget it he will as well, whatever he feels like in the moment is what he’ll go with.

I dont blame ppl for losing hope here, I dont blame ppl for giving up either, I completely understand your frustration and hopelessness and I do not blame you in the slightest if you just wanna call it quits here, totally understandable.

All Im saying is Im not, not because I cant take the loss, I’ve lost plenty of ships and handled it just fine, but for the principal of it.

I will never forget and never let anyone else forget how a certain fanbase cared more about seeing a harmless small fandoms ship sink than enjoying their own ship they claimed was smooth sailing

I will never forget how this supposed biggest fandom of the most popular ship was praying on our downfall CONSTANTLY simply because they couldnt STAND people shipping Sarada with anyone other than Boruto who they felt she was the property of and no one elses

I will never forget how big accounts incited hate and bitterness towards us unprovoked for no other reason than just enjoying seeing a small group of ppl suffer and be ridiculed by their followers because it was just fun hating on the little guy

I will never forget how the entire fandom turned on one big account for the simple fact that he came out that he shipped KawaSara [theres other reasons now but that was the first and still is the main reason they hate him]

I will never forget how this fanbase made that disgusting head tweet [saying they wanted teen Sarada to give Boruto oral on Kawaki’s dead decapitated body] and over 500 ppl FROM THAT FANBASE liked it and cracked similar jokes, one of which saying Boruto should give HER head instead which also got a bunch of likes

I will never forget how that fanbase was quick to accuse KawaSara fans calling us sick and disgusting over a instagram post saying they hope Kawaki R-pes Sarada only for the poster to admit to being a KawaBoru shipper and NONE of those ppl apologized

I will never forget how this fandom was so insecure and downright hateful towards KawaSara just existing that when members of their own fandom also liked/didnt mind the ship they were literally SHUNNED from the fandom to the point they had to leave it because they couldnt stand it

I will never forget how that fandom constantly vandalized the KawaSara wiki page because they couldnt stand it just existing

and I will never forget how these ppl pretended to be the victim of us this entire time and convinced majority of the fanbase of this as well because they had so many ppl already on their side branding us as the bad guys when literally all we did was try to fkin ship in peace and they just WOULD NOT let us do that.

THATS why I wont give up on the ship, not because I cant take the loss, but because I cant stand letting these ppl feel like they won because more than anything they wanna see ppl drop the ship so only Bsa exists while Kawaki is thrown to whoever is convenient but Im not gonna do that. I’ll stand with the ship whether its canon or not, if others do the same great but if not then that sucks but I understand.

I aint gonna give em the satisfaction tho, whether its endgame or not, whether things get better or worse for them, even whether the ship really is killed or not, Im not giving the ppl who’ve just nonstop been praying on harmless ships downfall the satisfaction of thinkin they finally buried us, I just wont do it.

#KawaSara #boruto #boruto anime #boruto next generations #rant

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tboom10 · 10 months

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warning. eyestrain. if you're on max brightness and its 3 am proceed with causion. same if you hate a random dude on tumblr ramble for way to long. this includes more text then i care to admit.

icons of some hollow knight silksong characters except i really, and i mean really went overboard with special effects and other random stuff that mildly fits their character (and even that is somewhat questionable) to add as much eyestrain as i physically can and looks not bad. also i wanted to make more icons, but i lost interest and i really just wanna post something after no new art for like 2-3 weeks. also i used those custom pattens brushes to much and it shows.

this whole thing was me just wanting to draw trobbio once more and i thought 'why not an icon even though you've replaced your pfp not even a month', so i did. im not even gonna use it as a pfp, im just leaving it here and then i did the same for seth. and i spiraled from there.

trobbio is the only one without those outlines and it rally bothers me, but due to how i layered i cant fix it. it is what it is. also it makes it more flashy, and if someone here has a flashy icon its him.

seth's one is the least eyestrain one. but i like the darker tones, so im keeping it this way. honestly, might make it my pfp for a while. its probably my favorite one. yep, i peaked at the second one.

i was looking at references for sherma and saw someone drew him with those pink flowers and it was to cute not to steal. i forgot who made it, but just so you know: the flowers weren't my original idea.

this is my first lace icon. i dont really like it, so i made 2 for her. the only reason im posting it is cuz i've watd to much time on it.

and her's the second one. this one kinda mirrors hornet's icon. why? well good question dear viewer (or whatever you call someone who actually reads this (which if you do, thank you, i dont type these for nothing)). its because i can. also i still dont love how the second one came out. i guess not everyone can draw every character. partly due to her needle? sword? thing she fight with still has lines about as straight as i am, and likely she is as well. this is the one with the clearest use of a shape brush.

i hope hornets needle doesn't look thrown in, cuz thats exactly what i did. it was to kinda mirror lace's battle weapon and its kinda silvery and lace's is gold, and ok, you get it now. honestly, hornets one is one of my more favorites, even though the star brush is to obvious.

shakra's icon is ok. honestly, probably the least remarkable one. i dont really have anything interesting to add. ok 1 thing mildly interesting. i think this one took th longest to make the character for. thats about it really. and like lace, i can barely draw her. also why and how did i get worse at using star brushes? they weren't as obvious on the first few and on the last 3 it was clear as day. it is what it is i suppose.

also, before anyone asks, if you really, and i mean really somehow wanna use them, go ahead, credit is appriciated, though not needed. just dont say you made them alright. or do. idk why you wanna claim these are yours though, but i lack the ability to care, nor come after you irl. but please dont do it, its kind of an asshole move imo. if you still do, i guess i cant stop you, though if you steal art im just gonna assume you're kind of a prick to be around. also i still have enough material to make a part 2 (like carmlita and forg daughter). but im busy making other stuff rn.

#eyestrain #hollow knight #hollow knight silksong #silksong #silksong hornet #hornet hk #hk hornet #lace #trobbio #shakra #sherma #seth #seth silksong #sherma silksong #shakra silksong #hk trobbio #idk how tags work anymore

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tadpolesonalgae · 4 months

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😋😋☺️

so…I get Mor’s reaction, it makes a lot of sense why she reacted the way she did. But, I firmly believe that trauma and suffering is something you NEVER compare, simply because everyone’s way of handling their trauma is different and the amount of time it takes that person to get over said trauma is also different.

so Mor saying ‘it is nothing compared to what we endured’ is unfair, because she’s never been through what the reader has been subjected to (illness and whatever happened in the Cauldron because it’s pretty clear being in the cauldron wasn’t a fun trip for anyone🥱)

but she also has the right to be mad because out of all IC members, she was the one that reached out to the reader, yes. And well reader going to Eris wasn’t a personal attack to her obviously it was naive of her to not think of the consequences. (I mean I’m sure she was well aware that nobody really liked Eris because they never hid it lol🤭)

I can’t wrap my head around how fae characters are written like they some 22-25 year old human (with their tantrums and constant thirst for power) and still they end up hating humans and have a god complex just cause they have powers?? (This is just an observation of the way SMJ writes her Faes in the acotar universe specifically)

Anywaysssss back to CBMTHY, I do quite like this chapter. With how calm(?) It was, for the reader’s part at least (except what happened with Bas 🫠)

but ehehehhe👹 I’m so excited for how the dinner is going to go on with Mor in the room, the reader def is going to be a little uncomfortable I thinkkk🤭

(I say it like it’s a fun thing but I just quite like the drama and angst)

also you said maybe the reader will snap and say something out of character for once in one of the asks? I don’t quite remember when but I hope she does in the next chapter😃

like imagine her just snapping back at Mor after she says something particularly mean (in undertones of whatever she said because I don’t think Mor would say anything too mean in front of the whole fam coward ) and then just leaving the room very dramatically 😟 (I love drama too much I apologise😔)

ah..I can’t wait till azriel finds out that reader found that paper between the page of the book given by Eris and that Azriel missed it (Yk with being the spymaster and him not realising that Eris was able to sneak in a magical paper to talk with reader for like so long?? What happened to security measures fr)

Have I mentioned I need reader to remember that Eris said something about the book having another secret that she had not found yet and then doing like a deep dive into the book trying to find it??

(also im so curious if you’re going to write about starfall because of how readers magic is kinda similar to the stars during that time? Yk green??)

Ugh I write too much 😞

this is just me dumping all my thoughts because I haven’t been reading for a while , (I got out of my reading slump 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️) aaaas

I just wanna say CBMTHY has my whole heart because it’s just that good 😭😭 and I want to thank you for your amazing work of writing it and your other work too (which all deserve separate appreciation🥰 (high lords who’re and desk pet) WHY DO WRITE SO GOOD 😭😭 HELP I KEEP ON FALLING IN A LOOP OF YOUR WORK LIEK

CBMTHY has my heart

currently, on the wrong side of history has my brain (rotting)

and now I’m giving high lords whore my tears because of the slow burn and the whole plot of reader being so close to Eris yet so out of reach (close as in she is in his court in the castle and far because she serves beron😭😭 ykwim??)

and well desk pet Rhys and have my 🐱, soul, mouth whatever he wants tbh 🫣🫣

yet again I feel like I have yapped too much and now I ought to go back to my studies 🧑🏻‍🍳

send this with lots of love and appreciation 🙌

take care of yourself! ^^ 🧍‍♀️

Yes! Azriel in particular went to great length to warn reader not to go near Eris so that should have been enough I think for reader to at least clock that she shouldn’t become friendly with him? But it was only one conversation, and then it was a book, and then it was just writing a bit in the evening, and then it was some discussions, and then it was just temporarily departing from the Night Court to visit for a bit and it was all to help the IC anyway so reader could figure out her magic without being a burden to everyone!! <- something like reader’s thought process I guess 🫢

I agree never compare trauma, however I think context is important? Mor’s obviously been through hell growing up, and we can see even five hundred years after the main events she still struggles with seeing Kier or Eris? I’d also like to possibly mention emotional connection as a factor? Say you see someone on the street having a bad day, maybe they look a bit tired, or are crying or something—that’s obviously sad, and you’d probably feel bad for them, but it’s different to if someone close to you was like that?

Also a difference between hearing/knowing about something and understanding it? I think you can know someone’s having a bad time but perhaps until you see maybe eyebags, or greasy hair, or maybe they start to smell noticeably it won’t fully register how bad it can be for some people? I think it’s fairly common knowledge that having depression can make it very difficult to do things like take showers, brush teeth, make proper meals and clean up, but actually confronting that in a person you care about can be quite a jarring experience?

I guess in a weird way, Mor knows reader tried to kill herself, but Mor didn’t see it, she hasn’t heard reader talk about it, hasn’t seen her cry like Az or reader’s sister’s did, so I don’t think that when she made the comment about comparing trauma she’d yet comprehended it?

‘(This is just an observation of the way SMJ writes her Faes in the acotar universe specifically)’

Yeah I mean it is a bit of a grey area in my opinion since you want them to be understandable and for their characters to be digestible, but then it can often come off as unrealistic I guess? Also yeah, miss Maas writing her fae-born characters to have barely touched their trauma so it’s more dramatic in the story is something to definitely keep in mind 😭

‘but ehehehhe👹 I’m so excited for how the dinner is going to go on with Mor in the room, the reader def is going to be a little uncomfortable I thinkkk🤭’

Oh my gosh why do you think it’s going to go badly??? It could be lovely! Her sisters are there to look after her, and Cassian’s basically on her side too since Nesta is, Az is out of the way so in essence it’s only maybe Rhys, Amren and Mor to worry about! And I doubt Rhys would say anything that would upset Feyre, and Amren seems to be kind of disinterested in the whole matter, so I’m sure everything will be perfectly fine! No need for worry or concern!!

‘also you said maybe the reader will snap and say something out of character for once in one of the asks? I don’t quite remember when but I hope she does in the next chapter😃’

I don’t know if we’re thinking of the same thing, but someone certainly suggested that when Mor made the comment about reader not being first choice, she should have responded with asking Mor if she really thought Feyre would ever choose her over Feyre’s own sisters 😭

‘Have I mentioned I need reader to remember that Eris said something about the book having another secret that she had not found yet and then doing like a deep dive into the book trying to find it??’

Haha, yeah, the book 😭

I occasionally forget that he gave her that book before they even really knew each other too

‘(also im so curious if you’re going to write about starfall because of how readers magic is kinda similar to the stars during that time? Yk green??)’

Uh, so I can’t disclose loads of details for obvious reasons, but I can say if I map out the storyline against time I’m pretty sure we’ll pass Starfall? I think for some of the stuff that will happen like four - six months is a reasonable time frame, so yes? I’m saying at the moment they’re coming into winter so November-ish? And if Starfall is supposed to be in March they’ll probably cross paths?

This is still theoretical though!! I don’t know if I’ll need that long to write the story so maybe the rest of cbmthy will be completed before they even reach February? I don’t know 😭 it’s hard keeping track of time in a fanfic 😭

‘I just wanna say CBMTHY has my whole heart because it’s just that good 😭😭’

Babes thank you for reading it and being so invested in it 😭😭😭 cbmthy fully wouldn’t have happened if people hadn’t expressed interest in it in the beginning so thank you so much for sticking with it 😭😭🫂🫂

‘currently, on the wrong side of history has my brain (rotting)’

Sorry about that 🫢 I’ve actually had some small ideas since writing this and replying to your last ask, so we’ll see if anything takes root…? 📖🔮

‘and well desk pet Rhys and have my 🐱, soul, mouth whatever he wants tbh 🫣🫣’

Babes you’re so unhinged 😭 (I love, support, and thoroughly respect it 😳😌)

‘yet again I feel like I have yapped too much and now I ought to go back to my studies 🧑🏻‍🍳’

Girl no, yap to your hearts content! All yapping and chatting is welcome over here! I love getting to know your thoughts they always make me so happy! 😭🫂🧡💛

#🧍‍♀️ anon <3 #🧍‍♀️#cbmthy

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lu9 · 1 year

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dumb vent from twitter (discussion of gender™ and labels Overall)

more things in the world should be "explained to (person) like they're 5"

cuz the more we just use Labels and shit in arguments and not Raw Ideas we get lost and confused because "How Dare this person not having read about this very specific thing or This Branch of the very specific thing"

i thought about this as i saw (ahem) keffals trending again and did the mistake of looking it up. boy twitter sure is healthy huh

but i just think why be an asshole to people not even doing anything harmful that's not an "enlightened centrist" thing right, its just basic decency, I Think, I Hope

this stuff about like transmed arguments, i see them and its like Who Hurt You. let people be fuckin happy theyre just Existing i promise not everyone is a Woke Mob Wamt's To Spread Propaganda And Fëtisch Real !! Hide Your Children's!!!1

then they toss buzzwords at each other like tankies, commies or whatever other general labels that Even So are not universally understood, and each person might even interpret it differently who cares at this point again, discuss Raw Ideas instead of assuming everyone knows what X or Y label means like its a zip file with the ideas inside but not everyone will know how to open it or what to do with the contents.

name calling could really only be useful for... clout

then you might say "well you're still using a label in some form or another" but I don't think we use them Alone just to validate some argument, when we use them we Know who we use them with lol. if the other person doesn't know what i'm even talking about i just don't use it. i'd imagine we mostly may use labels to identify ourselves so we can maybe try to find likeminded people i guess, while some may not even use said label at all even if they align with it (or not). and That's fine just like being trans SHOULD be fine for literally Anyone (in good faith - i believe thats like the Bare Minimum "requirement", nothing else, i mean why would you be trans in Bad Faith if not for Evil purposes)

what i am saying is, at least i try to make myself understandable

(hopefully all of this wasn't very confusing which would be ironic given everything i said but sorry im tired and Autism)

maybe you could say i'm the "i just wanna grill!!!" guy except actively against bigotry, just also against people being

Stupid

at each other, like when there are disagreements even Inside of LGBT+ like

shut the fuck up we're in this hell together

#vent #gender #gender stuff #identity #labels #trans #transgender #nonbinary #keffals #lgbt+

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skippyv20 · 2 years

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Hello helloooo 🎄🎄🎄🎄

🎄First of all, I want to know hows Mr. Skippy doing with his recovering?

🎄Second of all, I want to know hows your strength in this situation Skippy, along with your faith, and letting you know you are on my prayers and I hope you will keep your strength in difficult times but remember, God is the only one who has the last word 😎

I hope everything is going for the best!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

That being said, now I can throw my venom 🐍 and ask about the parasite 🦠 couple. 😁

🙈Honestly, I haven’t watched the documentary in Netflix, Im just not interested in making them more richer by watching it, but I know according to Netflix, their documentary are in the top 10 landing in first place.

All I know is what Instagram and tumbl are sharing, but, after reading a few comments with anons and others, yes, it shows many discrepancies about the whole ordeal on how they meet ect ect.

We need to understand something, no matter what that documentary is saying, they will always cover themselves and save themselves saying “It was the crown who made us lie and never us”… “It was the crown who forced us to do what we did”…

This way, and don’t know why, I feel it will be their goat gate to portrait themselves victim.

We have to understand, that their scheme will always blame it on anyone else except her. She will NEVER be charge with absolutely NOTHING and NONE of all the lies she had told specifically about the kids, will NEVER come to light.

It is too much of details about her pregnancy and the fact thar everyone, specially the crown has cover this fraud as well that it will never come to light because too much is at stake with the crown.

I have said it several times about what I think about the crown and why they play along and doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to end this, and is because they have some real DARK 💩 and the parasite knows this as well.

I no longer buy the “Harry have no other choice because of the backers and have to play along”… No, thats not it, the lack of ⚽️⚽️ has never neen forced to be in that relationship, he chose to and fell in love with her, the picture I have seen, it shows him to be a loving “boyfriend-husband” and fail to believe he was “force” by her to show pure love, those things comes naturally and if he was ever threatened, even with a smile, he will show cues.

I am studying psychology right now, keep in mind that I have NOT yet graduated and still have two more years ahead of me, but, from what I have learn so far, I can conclude of him being in love with the parasite

This is a show that would last forever and unfortunately we will still listen and seeing on how the enemy can have a win win with this couple

🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Thank you so much for the lovely kind words. Mr, Skippy is home and pretty tired today, better day tomorrow I am sure! Oh, my faith stays strong, and I do feel God was waiting with me….🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️

As for the two yahoos….well…nothing new there…they will self destruct and destroy themselves…getting closer …😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

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persephoneflouwers · 1 year

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Hi Angie, i hope it is alright that im calling you Angie, this is C.

Sorry for not replying earlier, I hope you are doing good. I’m also sorry to see that you lost someone so important to you, hope you are feeling better now.

I kinda screenshotted your answer to get back to you at a more suitable time (I see that I have the best timing now that the circus is back in town like talk about that wasted time eh Harry, anyway..)

I’m sorry that the fandom evolved into a place where you (and me and I’m sure many others) are feeling bad for voicing opinions that are essentially the fundamentals of being a larrie. The way this has been happening is particularly disheartening when people accuse us of apparently not respecting their closet or blaming them for their closets, like that is some level of gaslighting and guilt tripping.

I guess the fandom became this way now because louder voices are more occupied with following the biggest popstar (their words definitely not mine) of recent years than two closeted musicians that they can see past all the bs H and his team pull to the point where them voicing all the praise and how this fuck-boy persona is a must to make it big are drowning out the reasonable judgments of many levelheaded fans that can still manage to be here.

It really makes me wonder how it would be now with H and L if the fandom could have been more open with our criticism towards their recent way of handling fame, business etc, like im not trying to attribute more importance than we deserve to us as a fandom in their lives or saying we know better than them but we experienced firsthand how they were attuned to the chatter of larry fandom, maybe some tough love is what they need to hear instead of all the coddling (especially H) they are oddly receiving mostly from this part of fandom.

Also, im not trying to sound insensitive but it feels like they are missing Jay-like figure in their lives who im firmly believing was the voice of reason for them (I dont wanna get into this too much out of respect for Jay)

I have so much respect for you (and other blogs like you) bc you guys refuse to give into pressure of following whats come to be “the truth” and still speak your truths, there is nothing off putting about that believe me, it is admirable.

Im sorry if this ask feels incoherent, if it is so, you are gonna understand why in my following ask which would be just for you.

Hello, C 🦋 it’s so comforting to read your messages every now and then. I hope life is treating you well.

I know I made myself a reputation of an hater, but I’m not. I’m just constantly pushing back whatever stupid move they make. I don’t care if it’s good for their business, it’s not worthy on a human level and I fear the day people will start prioritising job and money and commercial success.

I also understand ignoring whatever thing you don’t like is a way to cope and go through this and curate your experience, but still it won’t make it go away. It’s hard at times, especially here - I’m not particularly close to anyone here so it feels like my experience is just me speaking into the void, you know? - and in this isolation sometimes I feel like the evil character but I don’t think I am. I’m a fan like everyone else, except I am very opinionated and more often than not I don’t agree with what I see/read here and there.

But thank you for coming back. I will not post the other part II because I like that little secret between us 😌 you’ll find me here when you decide to share more of your thoughts of course <3

#i forgot to say the latest 1-2 years events #have been the reason I have started writing fics #and I must say I enjoy it very much :)#im not sure I agree with you on Jay but I see where you are coming from with it #casella di posta numero 32 #C ✨

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patchlessworld · 7 months

Text

if someone asks me how’s my mental state/quality of life being, i honestly don’t know cuz while i feel slightly more stable than before, im not sure if this state of “normal” is actually acquired in exchanged for:

dropping out of high school and currently being a NEET

not going outside at all except for family gatherings, sunday mass, therapy and stuff, basically i was brought outside by my parents but never wished (therapy as well, i never wanted to go)

unfollowing all the “friends” (i hope it’s called friends) on social media so i won’t know what they’re doing and who they’re with, and therefore won’t get triggered by their happy personal life with their best friends

little to no contact with any acquaintances/“friends” i used to have

either watching youtube, anime, reading or playing video games all day and being the total opposite of productive

what i’m trying to say is, i don’t know if this current “calm” state i have for most of the time, is actually just due to the fact that nothing will trigger me cuz i literally stay in my room at most times, no one messages me, i have no idea what everyone else / the whole world is doing, and i’m a social failure with no job, no education or training, and also no interaction with anyone (known or new) except my family

i literally live like a corpse. i basically disconnected from the rest of the world. nice.

ps when i add the quotation marks for “friends”, it isn’t about fake friends and stuff, it’s just im so unsure about the definition of the term “friend” so for every “friend” i use that quotation mark because i’ve never been sure for my whole life if friend’s the right word to describe that certain relationship. i’m not being sarcastic when i say “friend”, and it’s not about the “they’re my friend but they seem fake” thing. it’s not about anyone, but my blurred definition of the noun. just wanted to clarify.

#quality of life #mental state #disconnected #neet #patchless

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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years

Text

...

#if u happen to b invested in my emailing profs. the lady from yesterday emailed me back almost immediately #to day that my interests and background sound ideal! which is v true! its such a good match! and i should email back in autumn to see abt #a project in 2023! which is v exciting and i hope things come together. apparently its harder to get funding for international students #so i was like cool cool. u will def hear back from me and also can u send me this paper that i cant get online #and she sent it so now i have a wicked cool paper to read. hhhhh i hope this works out #in other news i talked to my parents todsy and they wanna pay for me to fly home for a bit and i was like YES! which is exciting #not sure when itll happen. hopefully before fall. but yeah thats cool. i felt like such a loser bc my life is so boring rn i was like: wait #keep talking to me! i have nothing better to be doing! except thats not true im just avoiding doing things #SPEAKING OF WHICH we have this supid mini conference thing going on rn and i was super looking forward to not attending this yr #bc im not funded by them anymore. but i have to give a presentation thrus so i am invited and i guess my boss expected me to b there?#like if i went it would just be a massive waste of time that i would hate and im not like the most stable rn #like im srry i really don't give a fuck abt shrub encroachment. so i might as well do something useful with my time?#like im sure the main reason they hold it is for networking but i really really dont want to talk to anyone so im just gonna awkwardly sit #around and hate everything. but like maybe i should go as rep for my lab?#but like 3 other lab members r there so like u dont need me there. i really just wanna show up for my talk and fuck off #i really dont want to go tomorrow. i dont have anything that i could bring for lunch and again. dont wanna b there #and i havent done a rapid test which they wanted everyone to do before showing up #so idk what im gonna do. im gonna have tk txt my boss like: do u really want me to b there tomorrow?#but i dont kno how to say that without it sounding like i have a bad attitude bc i absolutely do lol #i just dont wannnna goooooo #unrelated

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

hi! if requests are open for bucky, i like the concept of him being unsure of himself with reader (not a superhero/avenger, maybe just a mutual friend) and pining after them compared to how easy it was to get dates in the 40s. thank you!

tfatws revived my love for bucky im not ashamed

A/N: tfatws has definitely done the same for me! no shame whatsoever!

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You tore your gaze off of the television before you turned to look at Bucky. His blue eyed stare was trained on you, intense and unwavering. Sometimes it had managed to unnerve you, but you’d gotten used to it over the year you’d known him. He was more than just silent...he was calculating, but it never felt wrong. Waving your hand in front of his face you made a small sound to get his attention.

“Bucky?” you whispered his name softly and that seemed to snap him back into attention as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Even in the dim lighting of the room you could see that a warm flush of red had crept up in his cheeks, “everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, more at himself than anything else, a self-annoyed look crossing his features, “spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him, watching his features soften when he realized you weren’t going to chastise him for zoning out, “I for one was watching the movie, which is more than I can say for you - you should love the Hobbit if you actually read the book when it first came out. And these movies are actually good. Pay attention, Bucky!”

You grabbed one of the pillows off of your couch and lobbed it at his head; but he was quicker, reflexes still sharp and honed after all this time. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smirk as he held the pillow before determining whether or not to throw it back at you. Immediately sensing what he was doing, you shook your head and jumped up, ducking behind the couch.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, why are you hiding?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you peeked up at him. The nickname rolled easily off his tongue as it caused a shudder to run down your spine. You knew it meant nothing, that it was just something he tended to call people; it was definitely just a thing. It was nothing particularly about you or targeted at you but you couldn’t help but pause. You knew that you wouldn’t have minded if he called you that intentionally. But that could never, ever happen. This was Bucky after all and you were just...you.

“I know your game, Barnes,” you grinned at him, deciding to let the nickname slide, “I’ll call it a truce and we can go to your favorite place to get some dinner. I’ll pay! I’m waving my proverbial white flag.”

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he set the pillow back down on the couch as he stood up and raised his hands in surrender. Slowly you raised to your full height, but kept a wary eye on your best friend, “I keep my promises, you know that.”

“Fine,” you agreed as you grinned at him. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked you over and he felt his knees go weak momentarily. He could stare at your smile for hours, “get your jacket and let’s go old man.”

He scoffed in jest as you grabbed your shoulders and jacket off the coat rock and motioned for him to follow, “I’m not that old-”

“106? Isn’t that old?” you raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain your giggles as he rolled his eyes dramatically, “just kidding, Bucky. You know I just love teasing you.”

“I am in my 30s,..technically, thank you very much,” he insisted as he slipped on his shoes and you handed him the leather jacket, “don’t push your luck, kid.”

“See,” you grabbed the keys and he opened the door, ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back, “I swear Bucky Barnes, you’ve been an old man since you were a kid. Now let’s go! There’s pancakes with my name on them waiting.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner with Bucky was easy...then again, everything with Bucky was easy. Every time you were with him, things just felt natural and normal, conversation and everything flowed freely. You’d met Bucky completely by chance, running into him, quite literally, on the street as you walked out of your favorite coffee shop and proceeded to spill coffee over both of you. He’d been apologetic, claiming it was his fault, but you’d been insistent that it was yours. One thing had led to another and soon enough you became inseparable friends.

Much to his surprise, and delight, you’d never treated Bucky as anything but...Bucky. That’s how you’d met him and that’s all he was to you. Bucky. Of course, he was much more than a friend, at least in your mind, but you weren’t about to divulge that little piece of information. At least not yet. Maybe one day...or not. Probably not. No. You weren’t about to make a fool out of yourself and confess your feelings for a man that saw you as nothing but a friend.

Bucky, always alert and cunning, had noticed you’d become quiet throughout dinner as you both ate in silence. Normally he wouldn’t question it, but he knew your tells and could easily read you by this point and knew that something was up.

“What?” he gently nudged your foot with his and you snapped back into attention as you looked at him, “you’re awfully deep in thought for someone that just wanted some pancakes.”

“It’s nothing,” you insisted nervously, swallowing your bite down and clearing your throat, “just...tired?”

“Mhmm,” he wasn’t going to push you, know you’d come around eventually, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

There it was again, and you felt a warmth flush over your face as you focused your attention on the syrupy mess on your plate. It was silent for a few more minutes before you noticed a few women sitting at the diner’s counter, giggling among themselves as they cast longing glances at Bucky. Something in your stomach twisted and your heart constricted. Of course they were looking at him, women often did. And you couldn’t blame them; Bucky was handsome in almost every way, and you yearned after him as well. But unlike most other people, you weren’t about to be so obvious about it.

“Looks like you have a little fanclub,” you murmured softly under your breath as you lightly motioned towards them women. Bucky slyly followed your gaze and studied the newcomers and huffed in annoyance. He abhorred any sort of extra attention, especially when it came from people that only liked him because of his looks. Besides that, it often didn’t last terribly long; usually people realized who he was - used to be - and that scared them right off.

“They’ll leave soon enough,” he shrugged them off before turning his attention back to you, “besides, I-I’m not interested. It’s not like it used to be…”

“Back when?” you quickly snorted in amusement as he jokingly glared at you, “back in your day? I bet you had them all over you then too.”

“Well, it certainly was easier,” he admitted as he played with the straw in his almost empty milkshake, “nowadays people are harder to read. They all either want one thing, or they just stick around until they find someone else. It’s not worth it...and honestly, now one has caught my eye.”

“No one?” you asked as you pushed your last bite around the plate, letting the fluffy pancake soak up the syrup, “I find that hard to believe, even for you, Buck. Everyone has someone they’re interested in.”

“Huh,” he mused as drained the last of the milkshake, “well then, is there someone that has captured your interest?”

“I...no, not really,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Instead he immediately made a sound of small disbelief; you should haven’t even bothered to try and lie to him. He could see right through you, “there’s nobody.”

“I thought you said everyone has someone that they’re interested in?” oh yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let this go at all.

“Except me.”

“I find that doubtful.”

“What about you then, Bucky Barnes?” you decided to deflect by throwing the question right back at him, “has anyone captured your interest?”

Bucky paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he mulled over his next words carefully, “yes. There is someone.”

“O-oh,” you stammered as his gaze shifted back to you, blue eyes keenly studied your features, “you gonna tell me who it is?”

“Well,” he started slowly, tapping his fingers on the table as he leaned towards, "there is someone, but I don't know if she knows or thinks of me as more than a friend, but god, I hope she does. She's been my friend for a while now and I kind of want to ask her on a date, a proper date, but don't quite know how."

"Do you...do you think she could feel the same about you?" butterflies erupted in your stomach as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Surely he couldn't mean you. But then...why was a light flush of pink in his cheeks? Why was he watching you so intently?

"I don't know," he confessed with a light shrug as he sat back in the booth, an arm extended over the back, the picture of ease, "sometimes I think she might, but I don't want to think she does and mess anything up. I'd rather keep her as a friend than lose her."

"I guess you won't know unless you ask her…" you were positive that he could hear your heart beating rapidly, "you never know until you try. I have a feeling she won't turn you down if you ask...just a hunch…"

"Hmm…" a smile, dazzling and brilliant, grazed his features, "well then sweet-"

"Excuse me," one of the girls from the counter had approached your table and was leaning into Bucky, with her back to you. She was twirling her hair around her finger as she offered him her most dazzling smile. She was definitely beautiful and you really had nothing to base your annoyance off of, but she rubbed you the wrong way, "I was just wondering if you'd-"

"Hi, excuse me?" you couldn't help yourself as you gently tapped her arm. Bucky raised an eyebrow as she gave her a surprised look on her face, "I don't want to interrupt but he's mine. And if you don't mind...we're on a date."

"O-oh," her eyes widened as she looked between you and Bucky, who was currently sporting the most shit eating grin, "I didn't know. Sorry…"

She scurried back to her friends as you looked back down at your plate. Bucky cleared his throat as he leaned in, hardly believing what had happened. You could feel his curious blue eyes on you, searing and questioning.

"So she feels the same way or she's a good liar," he said softly as you chanced a glance, biting on your lip, "I'm yours, huh?"

"Shut up," you groaned, "it was to get her away from you, so you're welcome."

"Mhmm…" god that smile made you want to melt.

"Bucky!"

"Thank you," he bowed his head slightly, "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing...why?"

"Can I take you on a date?" he asked as you looked at him in surprise, wide doe eyes meeting his, "a proper date?"

"I...yeah, Bucky. I'd like that a lot," you agreed softly, "see...I told you she won't turn you down."

"Guess you were right," he was causal, but inside his heart was fit to burst as he reached across the table and gently put his hand on top of yours, "I'm already hers, but she's my girl too."

Yeah. You could definitely get used to that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #tfatws #bb imagine

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Note

hello! i see your requests are open again 😌 can i request jeonghan x reader, enemies to lovers kinda thing maybe where they have the same friends but jeonghan & reader always clash etc etc fluff at the end idk

i know you’ll come up with something amazing as always, do what you want with it 😘🥰💗

balance | y. jh.

pairing: jeonghan x reader genre: enemies to lovers (kind of), fluff warnings: heights, ski mountain mechanical malfunctions (you know, dangling in the air kind of thing) word count: 1.5k (i got carried away, im sorry)

💌: thank you so much for requesting!!! this was honestly fun to write although there was little to none banter, i’m so sorry :’( thank you for trusting me! i hope you like it <3 i will try to post at least two drabbles/requests per week :)

To you, Yoon Jeonghan was the type of person that looked like he would trample all over your principles in life. It’s a little dramatic of you but he can’t blame you for thinking so. He’s cocky, annoying and full of shit. The two of you stepped off on the wrong foot when he thought it was funny to pour sparkling water on your instant noodles as a prank during one of the traditional ski trips your group of friends always hold.

Soonyoung introduced him on what was supposed to be the best trip of your life only to get ruined when he made fun of you. Although technically speaking, your cup wasn’t the only victim of his shenanigan because the rest of your friends complained and threw it at the perpetrator before they could even finish eating. But you were hungry and stubborn, so you didn’t let it go.

Ever since then, despite not confronting him, Jeonghan’s energy and wholebeing never clicked with yours. You barely speak a word to him and you rarely hang out with him, unlike with every single one of your friends. He hasn’t noticed and even if he did, you’re sure he could care less. Which is fine by you. The instant noodle prank is history and now that this year’s ski trip will be your third with him, you have just gotten used to ignoring his existence.

“Jeonghan’s staring at you,” Seungcheol says, startling you.

Your eyes throw daggers at him, not because he startled you, but because of what he said.

The tall man nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m not lying. Give him a glance and then you’ll see.”

To set the record straight, you don’t have a grudge on Jeonghan for who he is. It’s more of what he does that gives a bad impression on you. Aside from the noodle incident, you noticed how much he takes pride in teasing and playing with the gullible younger ones and you hate him for that. It’s a good laugh every once in a while but it can hurt feelings at times and you don’t want that. He also likes to disagree and debate with everyone (you’re just glad you haven’t been a victim yet). When everyone else says yes, he’ll boldly say no. That’s how moronic he is to be friends with.

Of course you acknowledge his good deeds. Whether you like to admit it or not, Jeonghan is a great friend. He is a beacon of strength among you knowing that he’s one of the oldest in the group. He knows where and when to have fun. He knows when to be there for anyone who needs him. He’s supportive. He’s loving. He’s more than okay.

You’re just turning a blind eye because you’re still petty.

It has come to your attention that apparently, Jeonghan has been harboring a crush on you. It’s a stupid rumor and you choose to ignore it because why. Why would he have a crush on you? You try confirming if it’s true by looking at him and observing his actions whenever he’s not paying attention. But to no avail, nothing special stood out.

In fact, it seems like all the staring and observation made you develop a crush on him. Now that’s even more annoying.

You roll your eyes at Seungcheol’s nonsense and walk away from him to go to Jeongyeon who’s currently checking in everyone to the hotel. You might as well help her register everyone to all the activities you will be participating in.

“Collect their IDs,” she orders without looking up from the form she’s writing on. “And tell them to fall in line so they can sign the consent form.”

“Told you we should have filled out the online form before getting here,” your complaint doesn’t go unheard by your friend who only glares at you, scaring you to immediately obey her instructions.

“IDs please,” you ask with your hand out and your friends happily complied as they chatted through the waiting time. You walk around to make sure you have everyone’s and as you double check, one last ID was missing.

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

The devil himself, Yoon Jeonghan.

You take a deep deep breath before turning around and face the handsome face you’ve been sick of. Wait, did you just call him handsome?!

Jeonghan flashes his signature smirk while pulling his wallet out from his pocket, picking one of the many cards inside it to hand to you. His gloveless fingers grazes yours and it concerns you why it made your heart skip a beat. You avoid his gaze and everything else about him and run back to Jeongyeon who’s the one asking for these in the first place.

You heard his low chuckle and you wish you could wipe off his annoying grin with your fist.

Moving on from what happened in the early afternoon, the rest of the day was pleasant enough for you and your friends to continue. Everyone had lunch at the local restaurant first before doing the group activities. It’s a good thing none of you are afraid of heights (except for Dokyeom, but he manages). Soonyoung leading everyone to hike the safe side of the snow covered mountain wasn’t a problem for him.

After the quick mountain hike, you all scattered to have fun and decided to meet up for dinner in the evening. You, Jeongyeon, Dokyeom and much to your dismay, Jeonghan all went up to snowboard.

The lift was supposed to carry the four of you up to the starting point before your adrenaline descend, but Dokyeom suddenly felt a wave of fear of heights and needed to calm down for a few minutes. He tells you to go on ahead and you did. You just didn’t expect Jeonghan to be accompanying you instead of Jeongyeon.

You hide your disappointment and bewilderment as you make yourself comfortable. It’s awkward but it doesn’t matter. You’re just going to keep quiet and avoid looking Jeonghan’s way. This ride will probably not be a good ten minutes, right?

Jeonghan holds onto his snowboard while you place yours on the floor. A barrier of some sort to distance yourself from him. Your eyes are glued to your feet, watching them move from side to side. You also distract yourself from admiring the view outside the window, but it’s hard when you can feel his eyes burning holes on the back of your head.

“Y/N.”

You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.

Why does your name sound so melodic coming from his mouth?

You turn your head and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

But the lift doesn’t let him because it suddenly stops mid-air, echoes of metals clanking and brakes screeching following suit. The abrupt stop causes the lift to shake a little, making you hold onto the metal bars out of fear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a mechanical malfunction of the lifts and our engineers are repairing it now at this moment. We apologize for the inconvenience and fear that this has caused. We request everyone to remain calm and seated…”

The announcement falls deaf to your ears because all you hear is ringing. You’re not afraid of heights at all. But you have never experienced an incident like this before. You’ve heard and read about it and not all of them ended well.

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice snaps you out of your dilemma.

You blink away your tears and clutch your chest to calm your heart that’s beating faster and faster.

“Y/N?” Jeonghan calls for you again, but this time he’s reaching his hand out. “You’ll be fine. Here, take my hand.”

Jeonghan probably noticed the panic in your eyes. So, after throwing away your doubts outside the window, you carefully move a little closer to him but not beside him as you don’t want to ruin the balance of the lift. You unclench your fist and finally take hold of his waiting hand.

Jeonghan’s warm palm and genuine smile calms you down. Your heartbeat slows down and your breathing goes back to normal. Your eyebrows furrow in both fear and embarrassment. You question the universe how and why did this have to happen.

“Hey, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!”

Jeonghan giggles at your outburst and you don’t know if that’s music to your ears or if it just makes you want to punch his handsome face more.

“I like you Y/N,” he suddenly confesses and you grimace.

“I like you too,” you confess back, tightly gripping his hand. “But now is not the time, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan bites back a smile that says he’s in love and just gently caresses your hand. It’s unbelievable how the opportunity arose itself right at this moment, but it was now or never for him. He’d explain how much he likes you in detail later. For now, he’s okay with this.

“But, later though?”

“Yes, now shut up before I throw you out first.”

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mcu1shots · 3 years

Note

could you please make me a tony xplus size reader story and getting proposed to but telling him no because she's insecure about her body and him seeing it? it would mean alot im in a dark spot right now.

Of course! Here you go, I hope you enjoy and feel better soon!

Notes/Warnings: insecurity, self doubt, mentions of being a playboy, implications of body negativity, fluff, angst, Plus Sized!Reader

Word Count: 2,351

Nothing More Perfect (Tony Stark x Reader)

Of all the things you had heard about Tony Stark you had never imagined him to be quite the way that he was. He had always presented himself as the playboy billionaire, hosting large parties and being seen with many women. It was always all over the front page of every gossip magazine who Tony’s woman of the week was, it almost had become a game at one point of which celebrity or model would be the next one to fall to his charms. But everything changed a short time ago after the attack on New York.

Everyone had seen how Tony flew directly into the portal that led to… well, perhaps only the man himself knew the answer to that. Ever since then he had become… different. Parties hosted in his honour were still as rowdy as ever, but the inventor himself was barely there for a few minutes, enough time to enjoy a couple of the drinks being served, before he disappeared for the evening. Gossip columnists no doubt mourned for the stories that they used to have from him, for no longer did he have his classic ‘woman of the week’ but he was barely seen to be forming connections with anyone. That is, until someone sent in a picture of Tony with a woman.

That woman was you. It had been around two years ago now when the press found out about you, and all it had taken was someone’s untimely photo of him kissing you goodnight in the hallway of your apartment complex. Before that you had always been very careful not to tell anyone but your close friends about your relationship but, Tony being Tony, insisted that he had to kiss you one last time before your night together ended. And who were you to try to resist that?

The gossip columnists, no doubt bitter from the stories that they had been starved from for so long, had a field day writing about you and Tony, you found paparazzi at your work and it was hard to escape the articles. You remember Tony clearly telling you “everything they’re saying is just for the story” as he urged you to never pick up a magazine or read a single article, even going as far as to suggest blocking results from anything that would come up on your computer or phone.

And for a while you were successful in ignoring anything that the press said about you. You listened to Tony’s suggestion and turned a blind eye to any article about your boyfriend just in case it mentioned you in any way. You were struggling enough with self image without the words of journalists all fighting to get the most clicks on a story, Tony was helping you through everything and you didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way.

Things went well after that, you ignored anything that you saw about you and Tony’s relationship. And since the press already knew about you, you were free to have a normal relationship. Well, as normal as it could be when you’re dating a famous billionaire and superhero. Anytime you did something in public there was the risk of the press writing about it, but Tony’s nonchalance about the entire affair rubbed off on you and you allowed yourself to turn a blind eye.

Well, most of the time.

Sometimes, when Tony was away and you were left to your own devices for a while, it was hard not to go on social media and glance at the headlines that were advertised all over your feed, some of the articles seemed kinder than others, and some just seemed to be going for that dramatic effect. Those were the hardest ones to see, those were the ones that unraveled all of the work you had put into loving yourself. And you tried not to read them, you really did, but sometimes you weren’t all that successful.

Tonight was one of those nights, Tony had some Avengers meeting and would be away for a few days. He had invited you to come with him but you had declined, you always felt out of place in those meetings, surrounded by heroes more perfect than you could ever be. Captain America was genetically modified for perfection, Black Widow was trained from infancy to reach that level of perfection, and Tony had built himself into a perfect hero with his iron man suit. It was hard not to feel self conscious around all of that.

Though perhaps you should have gone with him, as you sat in the bedroom you and Tony shared at his Malibu estate. The window was open, allowing the warm night breeze to flow through. It was a beautiful evening, you should have been outside enjoying yourself, perhaps sitting on the beach and watching the stars, but instead you were sitting on the bed looking at your laptop, staring at one of the not-so-nice articles that had popped up on your screen. You hadn’t even clicked into it, but the title and thumbnail was enough to fill you with a wave of insecurity.

You had to force yourself to tear your eyes away from it and put the device on the edge of the bed. You swung your legs off of the side and stood, stretching out your arms and allowing a deep sigh to escape from your lungs. You should have taken his advice to block out those articles from appearing, but it was too late for that now. You rubbed a hand along your face, feeling more emotionally tired than anything else, and decided you needed some water and a bit of a walk around the house to clear your mind.

So that’s exactly what you did, after shaking out your legs which had started to fall asleep from how you had positioned yourself on the bed, you headed downstairs to get some lemon water from the kitchen. However you were confused when you heard the soft sound of music coming from the living room. Wondering if you had forgotten to turn something off, you changed your path and headed there instead.

And there was Tony, a piece of paper in his left hand and a small box in the other. He seemed to be reading over a speech of some kind which was unusual to you as you had never known him to actually prepare a speech in advance, usually able to come up with something magnificent on the spot, even with cameras and microphones pointed at him. His eyeline raised and caught on you as you stood at the edge of the room and he quickly shoved the paper into his pocket and got on one knee, opening the box.

“Y/N,” he paused to remember the words he had just been rereading for what felt like the hundredth time, and yet seeing you illuminated by the dim lighting of the moon and the stars that filtered in through the large windows, he forgot it all. “I had a whole speech prepared for this, of how I love you so much and all of that sappy stuff. But, it all boils down to the question of… will you marry me?”

You were stunned into silence as you watched him, the seconds seemed to tick by as he waited for your response, a grin still placed upon his face. But you weren’t in the best mindset right now, the image of that headline and thumbnail plastered in your mind. What were you supposed to say? You knew what he wanted you to say, he wouldn’t have asked the question if he wanted you to decline, but how could you say yes? How could you ever be good enough for the Tony Stark?

Your silence and stillness was broken as you took a step back, shaking your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘no’ but by the way the inventor’s face fell you knew he got the message. “I’m sorry, Tony…”

You turned on your heels and rushed back up the stairs, unable to look at him any longer. Unable to offer him an explanation as you weren’t sure you could even get the words out. Tears rolled down your face as your mind was flooded with thoughts you hadn’t dared to allow for a long time. But your insecurity was like a bucket of water, catching drips of self doubt. That bucket had slowly been filling up over the past two years but the last drop that had been placed by that stupid article was what caused it to overflow, your tears were only proof of that.

Tony had to admit that wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting from you, not in the slightest. He had been expecting tears, of course, but one of joy as you proclaimed that you loved him too and would be delighted to marry him. He shoved the box into his pocket and followed after you, he would accept your denial of his proposal but he couldn’t leave you to be upset on your own, what kind of man would that make him?

He followed you up to the bedroom that you both shared but you had locked yourself in the ensuite bathroom before he could stop you. “Y/N, hey, come on, love, talk to me,” he begged, knocking on the door. But he received no response from you. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to think of if he had done something wrong. Then he saw it, the laptop still placed on the bottom of the bed, screen glowing in the darkness of the room. He paused, looking at the door and considering what he should do. But he figured that you wouldn’t be opening it any time soon and so he stepped away to see what you were looking at. Immediately he knew why you were so upset, seeing the headline and the image plastered across the width of your screen, a pop-up ad for one of those gossip companies that existed only in the depths of the internet. He knew about your struggles with confidence and self worth, and he was able to use his genius mind to put two and two together.

He closed the tab on the screen and then closed the laptop, not wanting you to see that again. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Y/N, my love, I know what the world says about you sometimes, how cruel they can be,” he began, resting his hand against the door, his face inches away from it and his eyes closed. “But as I close my eyes and I think of perfection, all I see is you, every part of you, no exceptions. My entire career I’ve tried to make something perfect but never would I be able to make anything that could compare to the perfection of you. We don’t have to get married, but please, please, come out here so I can hold you. I love you, Y/N, all of you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was a pause, that agonizing silence as Tony tried to figure out if you believed him or if you could even hear him, there was a chance you were tuning him out and he truly was just talking to a door. But then he heard the click of the lock and stepped back as the door opened to reveal his beauty.

“How can you say that, Tony?” You asked, your voice shaking as you wiped tears from your face, your eyes were red from crying and you sniffled.

Tony lay his hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb and smiling softly at you, it was the kind of smile that seemed to be reserved for you and only you. It wasn’t some cocky grin or a smartass smirk, it was just… Tony. “Because I mean it, my love. Because, whatever I do, I will never find or make anything as perfect as you.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, finding yourself unable to look at him, unable to face him. A shaking sigh fell past your lips as you exhaled and tried to think of how to articulate your thoughts to him. “The rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree with you, Stark,” you pointed out in a quiet tone.

Tony chuckled and stepped towards you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. “Maybe not, but I do pride myself on being the smartest man in the world. They don’t call me a genius for nothing, you know.”

And there he was, the Tony that you knew so well. The confidence that he had in himself, that he had in you. And a smile slowly came onto your lips and you nodded a bit at his words. “Then… yes.” You told him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

For a moment he looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?” He repeated, asking for clarification on what exactly you were agreeing to.

“I’ll marry you, Tony Stark,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his hand and reaching out with your own to hold his free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And his smile grew, one that was bright and warm and reserved only for the two of you at that moment. “See what I mean? Perfect. I love you, Y/N Stark.” He said, tilting up your face and pressing a soft, chaste kiss onto your lips.

“I love you too, Tony Y/L/N.” You countered as you looked up at him, your red eyes now filled with love and happiness instead of doubt and despair.

Tony chuckled at your response. “Touché.”

You simply nodded and pulled him closer. “Now, kiss me properly this time?” You asked sweetly, pulling him close to you.

A grin passed his face and he nodded, leaning towards you. Before your lips met in a kiss he spoke, keeping his tone soft and his warm breath fanned across your face, “As you wish, my perfect fiancée.”

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naturallytom · 3 years

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Mending a Broken Heart (Tom Holland x reader, alternative part)

a/n: me? writing? unheard of. jk im tryin to get back into the groove!! this is an alternate version to Mending a Broken Heart, so some parts are the same and some I’ve edited or added some things! hope u enjoy!!

warnings: language, angst, mentions of cheating

please reblog/leave feedback!!

picture not mine!

You had noticed it for months. Tom has been pulling away, spending more time out with the boys than at home with you. His kisses became forced and the words ‘love you’ slowly stopped falling from his lips.

Most days he would leave for work before you woke up and on the rare occasion you were up when he left, he would mumble a ‘goodbye’ before walking out the door. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he would press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Most times, though, he would just leave.

You did your best to keep the love alive, you were still madly in love with him. The wedding band that sat tightly on your ring finger mocked you. A symbol of what was love has turned into one sided love. Hell, you weren’t sure if Tom wore his wedding ring anymore.

A quick glance to his left hand would reveal that he didn’t.

You spent your nights wondering if it was something you did. Were you too clingy when he left to film? Was he just tired of you after four years of marriage? Did he find someone else?

No. You shook your head to yourself one night as you laid in the bed by yourself, the space usually occupied by Tom cold. If he found someone else and if he cheated, that’s on him. Not on you.

Still, the thought plagued your mind. Did he meet someone else? Was she prettier than you? Is that where he was when he said he was out with the boys? Was she able to give him something you couldn’t give him?

The door opening and shutting alerted you that Tom was home. You sighed, knowing it’d be another night of sleeping on opposite sides of the bed.

The door to the bedroom opened and in came Tom, Tessa jumping up to greet him.

“Hey girl, hey love, how are you, hm?” He whispered, petting Tessa as his eyes flickering over to you, who was visibly awake. “Thought you’d be asleep by now. ‘S late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied simply. “Hey so I was thinking, we haven’t had a date night in a while, maybe you wanted to go out to see the Halloween decorations around town and get dinner tomorrow night?”

“Can’t,” He shook his head as he got ready for bed. “Harrison wants to watch the game. Told him I’d go.”

“Didn’t you just see Harrison tonight?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, obviously upset. “Nothing, Tom. Goodnight.”

“Night.” He responded, turning out the light and climbing into bed, falling asleep with his back toward you.

The next day, you were surprised to see Tom already awake and waiting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea when you got downstairs.

“Good morning.” You smiled softly.

“We need to talk.” He told you. You felt your heart drop and your palms get sweaty, but you wiped them on your pajama pants in an effort to seem totally calm and not panicked.

“A-About what?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky.

“I think,” Tom started. “I think we should get divorced.”

It was then, at 8:30 am that your world came crashing down.

“W-What?” You whimpered out, your voice weaker than before. “Why?”

“I’m not happy with you anymore.” He said simply. Your eyes flickered to his left hand, noticing the absence of the golden wedding band, making your heart ache.

“We can try couples’ therapy. We can go on dates like we used to, Tom, please! We can fight for this, Tom. Fight for us.” You cried, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, each one puncturing your lungs as you struggled to keep your breath under control.

“No,” He shook his head. “My mind is made up. I’m sorry, y/n. Um, I found a lawyer at a firm, they have a lot of other lawyers there you can contact. I’ll just, uh, leave their card here.”

“So that’s it? Three years of dating and four years of marriage down the drain?” You sobbed, holding your knees to your chest as you sat on the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry, y/n. Truly, I am.”

He placed the small business card on the counter, grabbing the bags you didn’t even notice, mumbling an ‘I’ll be staying with Haz,’ before walking out the front door, like he did every other day. This time, though, you had the sinking feeling he was leaving for good.

It was only three weeks that your lawyer came over to meet with you, joined by Tom and his lawyer. You kept your eyes focused on the table as you signed the paperwork, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.

As soon as everyone left, you shut the door, slid down the back of it, and cried.

Nearly two months after the worst day of your life and it was time for a self care night. The ring that once sat on your left hand was buried away in your jewelry box somewhere and you were finally starting to feel free and somewhat happy again after crying yourself to sleep and wondering where it all went wrong for months.

After the divorce you buried yourself in work, using it as a distraction from going home to an empty house. You also moved out of the house you once called home. Not only was it too painful to go home to an empty house, but it was too painful to go home to a house that held so many happy and loving memories. You took the necessities along with some things you wanted with you and set yourself up in a hotel room for the time being. You treated it as a vacation. Except only a few people knew where you were. Your family knew, along with your friends, including Harrison, on the condition he didn’t tell Tom where you were. You started making time for yourself in your little hotel room and you became happier.

Tonight, after a long day of work, you ordered your favorite Chinese food, played your favorite songs, and ran yourself a bath with a vanilla scented bath bomb. You were enjoying a glass of wine, the hot water of the bath soothing you when the music playing from your phone was interrupted by a call coming in.

To your surprise, it was Tom. You contemplated answering it, but instead, let it go to voicemail. However, you were curious as to why he called, though you were also 99% positive it was a pocket dial. So you played the voicemail, the familiar voice ringing throughout the bathroom.

“Hey y/n, um, I hope you’re doing well. I just called because I wanted to tell you something. I um, I miss you. A lot. And I know I don’t get to feel that way but I do and I just wanted to tell you that and I guess ask if there was any possibility of meeting to talk? Uh, call me back if...if you want. I don’t blame you if you hate me. Bye. Love y-”

You turned off the voicemail before the phrase could be finished. Millions of thoughts filled your mind, ranging from happy ones to ones that made your heart ache and tears fill your eyes.

You decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened, and enjoy your self care night.

When Tom pulled up to his former house with flowers in his car and a pit of nerves in his stomach, he expected to see your car in the driveway and at least one light to be on. He was greeted with an empty driveway and a dark house, which confused him. It was the weekend, so you weren’t work. Maybe you had to run an errand?

But after 20 minutes, he gave up hope that you were home and tried to call you, which to no surprise, you didn’t pick up again. He instead called Harrison in an effort to try and find out if he knew where you were.

“What do you want?” Harrison answered, half concentrating on what Tom was about to say and half concentrating on the game in front of him.

“Do, uh, do you know where y/n is?” Tom asked, taking Harrison by surprise.

“y/n?” Harrison paused the game, suddenly not able to concentrate on it. “Why d’you want to know where y/n is?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He mumbled.

“If I knew that’s where you were going I wouldn’t have let you go.” Harrison sighed. “Listen she made me swear that I wouldn’t tell you-”

“Please Harrison? You’ve seen how much of a mess I’ve been. I just want to see if I have a shot.” Tom begged, making his friend cave.

“Fine but if she moves again I won’t be telling you shit.”

The next day you were enjoying a cup of tea and reading your book, getting some relaxation in before your week began when a knock on the door interrupted you. Confusion filled your body, you weren’t expecting anyone to pop by.

Looking out the peephole, you froze at the sight that greeted you. Tom was standing outside your door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.

“Hi.” He breathed out, his nose and the tips of his ears red from the harsh winter air.

“How the hell did you find me?” You asked, keeping your eyes focused on the ground.

“Harrison. I begged him to tell me.” He answered.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You muttered. “What do you want?”

“Can..Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, that he could say what he wanted to say outside or just not let him speak at all. But you wanted to be courteous to the other people on your floor and part of you was curious as to what he was going to say. So you wordlessly opened the door slightly, letting him in and closing the door behind him.

“Now what do you want?”

“Did you get my voicemail?” He responded, hope filling his eyes when you nodded. “Um, I brought these for you. I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t want your flowers. Why should I talk to you? We’re divorced, just like you wanted.” Tom winced at the words. “Nothing to change.”

“Actually, we’re not.” He corrected. “I called the office the other day. Um, it’s not official yet.”

“Well then they should make it official. Maybe I can call them and make it happen as my very last Christmas present to you. Just what you wanted.” You snapped.

“No, this isn’t what I want, can I speak, please?” He pleaded, his eyes resembling those of a puppy.

“You’re speaking already.” You answered, gesturing for him to continue nonetheless.

“I- How have you been? I stopped by the house-”

“Tom I’m not gonna listen to your small talk. Say what you have to say and leave.” You told him. His heart broke but he couldn’t blame you.

“Um, so I thought I wasn’t happy with you but um, as time went on, I realized how much I miss having you in my life.” He began, visibly nervous. “I was just looking through our pictures and how happy you looked and I just, I guess I realized I wanted to be the one to make you that happy again.”

“You haven’t made me happy in months, Tom.��

“I know.” His heart clenched. “I know and I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.”

“Was there someone else? Did you cheat on me?” You asked.

“No, no absolutely not, y/n.” He answered before adding; “I went on a date with someone after we split up but it didn’t work out. I realized she wasn’t what I want.”

“Of course she wasn’t.” You scoffed.

“I want you, y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy again.” He told you, tears filling your eyes. “Is there..is there any possibility you could love me again?”

“Again?” You seethed. “Tom I never fell out of love with you! I never stopped loving you! That was all you! You stopped loving me and you wanted this stupid fucking divorce!”

“I..I don’t think I ever stopped loving you either.” He whispered, tears falling down his rosy cheeks. “Please, y/n, if there’s even the tiniest chance..”

“Of what, Tom? Of going right back to being married? Of you making me happy? I don’t know, Tom! I don’t know anything except that I hate you right now.” You sobbed, crying into your knees while Tom let out quiet sobs of his own, his heart clenching at the lack of wedding band on your left hand and the lack of love in your voice, but especially your eyes. Your eyes, which once held so much love and adoration for him were now full of anger and resentment.

“Of..anything, y/n. Please, I just want a second chance to show you how much you mean to me, to make you happy again. I will do anything to save us, anything you want. And...and if it’s not working or you just really hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. Not at all.” He begged, his eyes puffy and red.

“I tried to save us, Tom. Don’t you remember? I begged and pleaded with you to do couples therapy to go on dates when you were breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces. I begged you to try and fight for us, for our marriage, but you just walked out the god damn door!” You spit through gritted teeth.

“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so badly.” He cried, wiping his tears away.

“And if leaving me wasn’t enough, you took Tessa too! I was left completely alone in that big fucking house that was haunted by you. I couldn’t stand it.” You sobbed.

“I’m..I’m sorry, y/n. So so fucking sorry. What do you want me to do?”

“I want...I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way you hurt me. I want you to know how this fucking feels.” You said, your voice getting louder with each word that fell from your lips.

Tom could only cry. This was ripping him apart, he couldn’t even imagine what the whole thing felt like to you.

“I’m gonna need time to think, Tom.” You finally mumbled, Tom nodding in response.

“I’ll give you all the time you need. I promise you-”

“Don’t. Don’t promise me anything.” You spoke, your voice low. “You won’t be able to keep it. You promised you’d love me forever four years ago and look what happened.”

“y/n pl-”

“You don’t get to do this. You-you don’t get to just waltz right back in here and ask for a second chance to fight for us when I didn’t even get a first chance. How do I know this won’t end like it did before?”

“y/n, I swear to you, if this isn’t working out, you can leave me. I...I just want a chance to prove myself to you.” He begged.

“God, Tom. You don’t get it! I’m not going through this again. Do you realize how much you broke me the first time? Fuck, you had a chance, Tom. And you threw it away.” You muttered quietly.

“I regret that every day. Every god damn day.” He told you honestly.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You sighed.

“Talk to me?” He tried, knowing you were hiding something deeper than an ‘I don’t know.’

“Don’t know what else there is to say.” You mumbled. “I don’t trust you, I-I can’t trust you. I hate you.”

“Why’d you get a hotel room?” Tom sniffled, changing the subject.

“I told you. I hated being in that house. Hated being surrounded by the happy pictures and memories of us.” You told him honestly. “I want to start over.”

“What?”

“I want to start over. I can’t go back to being emotionally married to you even if we’ll still be married legally. I’m talking starting from scratch, as if we were meeting for the first time, the whole deal.” You told him.

“That sounds perfect, y/n. Thank y-”

“Get out, Tom. Please. I just want to be alone and not with you right now. I’m still not happy with you.”

“Okay.” He breathed out, hope filling him once again. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“What did I just say about promises?” You asked tearily.

“I know, I know. I’m determined to keep this promise, though.” He told you.

“Fine. Whatever. Just please leave for now.” You whimpered, watching as he walked out the door, just like he did when he broke your heart.

You decided you needed another self care night. Another bath was run, another vanilla scented bath bomb was used, more wine was consumed.

Tom texted you right as you got out of the bath.

Tom: hey y/n, it’s tom, just incase you don’t have my number saved anymore. I just wanted to say thank you for the second chance. I really am grateful. I hope you have a relaxing night, you deserve it.

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone gently on your bed, though you could feel your heart rate pick up and butterflies fill your stomach.

Tom began texting you sweet little things each morning, whether it was to let you know that he’s been thinking of you or to tell you that he hopes you have a great day. At first you ignored them, but then you began responding in short answers of one or two words until the two of you were texting every day, like when you met for the first time seven years ago.

Over a month after you started texting again, Tom took you on a first date. Pulling up to your hotel, Tom felt the nerves fill his body as he walked up to your door and knocked, another bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

He felt all the air leave his lungs as you opened the door. You looked absolute stunning. You were wearing a navy blue dress that reached down to just above your knees, one Tom bought you one year.

“Wow, hi.” He breathed. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, accepting the flowers he handed you. “I’ll be right back.”

Tom took you to your favorite restaurant that night, one that the two of you frequented when you (formerly) went on dates.

When he took you back to your hotel, he walked you up to the door, where he nervously asked if he could kiss you.

You said yes, and that was all Tom needed to press a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss was magical, both of you felt the sparks between the two of you.

“God I missed doing that.” Tom mumbled as he pulled away to breathe.

“Then do it again.”

A couple months after that, Tom moved back in with you. You had gone back to the house every now and then, to slowly acclimate yourself to being back in the once happy house, only fully moving back when Tom moved back as well. The pictures of the two of you were dusted off, making your heart race instead of hurt at the sight of the happy memories.

Finally, after a year, Tom proposed to you (again). You hesitated a little bit, still scared it would end in heartbreak again, which broke Tom’s heart, but said you yes in the end.

The two of you renewed your vows, putting on the golden bands that were once again a symbol of the love the two of you shared.

You had a small party back at your house after the ceremony, your families joining to celebrate. You found Tom alone in the kitchen, grabbing a beer for him and Harry.

“Hey.” You greeted, fiddling with your fingers as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong, my love?” Tom asked, concerned as soon he saw the tears filling your eyes.

“Nothing, nothing. I, um,” You started, wiping your tears away and wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “I’m really glad we made it back to this.”

“Me too, lovey. I love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“You kept your promise.” You smiled softly, making Tom’s heart ache at the memory of you not being able to trust him.

“I told you I would.”

Your moment was interrupted by Harrison, who entered the kitchen, smiling at his two best friends happily in love once again.

“Aren’t you so glad I told him where you were staying?” He joked, making you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Harrison.” You smiled. As your eyes flickered between Tom and Harrison, though, you knew you wouldn’t have been in this position if Harrison didn’t spill the beans to Tom.

“Hey Haz?” You called, as Harrison went to leave the kitchen in fake offense. He turned at the sound of his name, knowing what was coming.

“Thank you.” Tom nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist.

Harrison just smiled even bigger, all three of you knowing everything would be okay from now on.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female!reader

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