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alldayangst · 4 years ago

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gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet.

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. ��When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book.

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly.

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball.

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?”

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.”

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two.

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true.

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it.

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

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ohsnapcracklepopfriends · 4 years ago

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Here it is friends. Part one of my Taylor-Swift-nostalgia induced carraville fic. I will be writing a short part two but I figured I’d get this up now and it could be read on its own at this point. I haven’t proof read it so please excuse any mistakes but I hope you enjoy!

Jamie undid his tie. It was a plaid tie, blue instead of red to suggest his neutrality. It was a good day or at least it should’ve been. Liverpool beat Everton two to one, he’d had a good show (no one was harassing him on Twitter yet and Gary had made a few mistakes, Jamie thought that qualified a pretty good show), and he had a date at eleven. He should be fucking buzzing but Jamie just feels the idle hum of numbness. Even the five-goal thriller that was their first game of the night hadn’t got his heart pumping like it used to.

Gary walked in silently, startling Jamie who quickly pulled on a jumper. Not that his state of dress mattered, Gary’s eyes stayed glued to the floor. He walked to the far corner of the dressing room to change out of his suit, as far away from Jamie as possible. He hadn’t said a word to Jamie all night when the cameras weren’t rolling. It hurt. Especially when Gary was so good at acting like everything was fine when the commercial break ended. He even fooled Jamie a few times.

Kelly knocked on the door, making sure they were both decent, before walking in to say goodnight. Jamie watched as Gary smiled at Kelly, as he laughed with her about something. Jamie used to do that: make Gary laugh. Kelly turns her attentions to Jamie. She compliments him on his interview tonight and asks him where he and Tom are going for their date.

“It’s quite late,” she comments, “you can’t really be going to dinner.” Jamie give her a fake laugh.

“I’ve got a reservation and everything Kells. We’re going to that new vegan place. He’s picking me up.” You heard that right: vegan. Because on top of everything, Tom fucking cared about animals and the environment. Jamie wasn’t complaining too much, though. He could suffer through some tofu if it meant not having to go to Gary and his old haunts.

“Ooh!” Kelly said, “do I get to meet him? Redknapp keeps talking about how lovely he is, I figure I could judge for myself.” Ah, yes, Redders. Running into Redders had been an accident. They managed to bump into him at the golf course the week before. Tom was good at golf, unlike Redders, as much as he tried to be. Tom gave him a few pointers, helping Redders fix his posture for his swings. They ended up playing a whole round together while Jamie played ping-pong with an eight-year-old girl in the clubhouse. Redders hadn’t shut up about how Tom’s wonderfulness and his perfect swing since. Jamie nodded at Kelly. He figured he couldn’t do any more damage.

The three of them stood in the parking lot waiting for Tom’s car to pull in. He wasn’t late of course, he never is, they just got out earlier than anticipated. Gary had tried to skitter off to his car but Kelly practically dragged him back up on the curb. Gary, despite trying to put on an agreeable face, looked about as miserable as Jamie felt. Jamie thought he was slightly better at hiding it though.

At 10:59 Tom’s blue Volkswagen pulled in. One minute early. He wore a nice checked shirt with the first few buttons undone. His hair and shirt were miraculously crisp and clean after a full day of work. He looked like a fucking god with his symmetrical face, sharp bone structure, and straight nose. Kelly certainly took note of that. “Our Carra is a lucky man!” She whispered before going over to Tom to introduce herself. Tom shook her hand and complimented her dress which, to be fair, was a very nice floral pattern.

Tom stuck his hand out for Gary to shake. “Hello Gary, my name’s Tom. It’s nice to meet you.” Gary takes a minute to collect himself and takes Tom’s outstretched hand giving it a firm shake.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” It sounds remarkably fake, of course it does, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He just turns towards Jamie with a perfect smile.

“You have such lovely friends, Jamie. It was nice to meet you both.” Jamie wasn’t so sure about that but played along and let Tom walk him to the car. Tom opened Jamie’s door for him before walking around to get in himself. He saw Kelly sling an arm around Gary’s shoulders as they drove away. Jamie took a deep breath and remembered it was all for the best. He reminded himself that this was what he wanted: stability. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The words Gary had said that night still rung in his ears. He was sure his own snarls were not forgotten either.

It started to rain as they parked but Tom had an umbrella. Gary never had an umbrella. You’d think that living in Manchester he’d learn to at least keep one in his car. Instead, he resorted to sprinting away from the rain as fast as he could trying to avoid the rain, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. But Tom was prepared, he always was. He held the umbrella for the both of them as they walked around to the front of the restaurant.

“James, try the torte it’s quite delicious.” Jamie hated being called James. Absolutely hated it. Not when Gary said it though. His stupid manc accent stretched the vowels into velvet. When Gary said it he felt special. Tom’s polished London accent made him feel posh, pretentious, and twatty. James. Ugh. It was like the word torte. It’s a fucking cake, just call it what it is. Jamie took a bite of the torte. It was good if you ignored the aftertaste of soya in the frosting, a little dry, but Jamie nodded his head like it was an orange mcflurry. He let Tom finish the dessert.

They’re in the car. Tom’s dropping Jamie off at his apartment. Tom must have noticed that Jamie had been quiet and switched the topic to something a little more in his wheelhouse: football. They were talking about England and possible squads for the upcoming international break. Tom started talking about moving Kyle Walker into midfield and Jamie couldn’t take it.

“That’s bollocks. Where is the one place on the field where we actually have players? Fucking midfield. Gareth’s drowning in defenders but not experienced ones. Playing Walker in midfield fucking undermines Henderson and leaves the young centrebacks overexposed.” Tom laughs for some reason. Jamie doesn’t find it funny.

“Well, you would certainly know.” This is what you want, he reminds himself again. Peace, calm, stability. This is happiness. But, fuck, Jamie missed Gary. He missed the challenge. He missed the little crease between Gary’s eyes. He missed Gary’s squeaky voice when he gets worked up. He missed fighting and bickering with Gary over things that didn’t matter. He missed screaming at Gary and Gary screaming back. He missed the really hot sex they’d have after such screaming matches, making Gary scream in a different, more satisfying way. He missed Gary’s laugh, his smile. It seemed to Jamie that neither of them have smiled much since that day. Jamie thought that smiling didn’t seem worth it if Gary wasn’t smiling back.

Jamie checked his phone. It was nearing 1 am. He had a handful of messages from Kelly. Jamie didn’t want to read about how great she thought Tom was, he fucking knew that Tom was great. On paper, he was fucking perfect. The perfect boyfriend. The dream guy. Not for Jamie though. He dreamed of an angry, passionate, crazy, wonderful manc. He opened his messages anyways though, figuring Tom would want to hear what Kelly thought about him.

Jamie. I know you’re on your date but we need to talk. Can you call me? It’s about Gaz. The first one read.

He’s at mine. Really upset. He said not to talk to you so I figure you know what’s going on. That sounded about right. Kelly caring more about Gary’s well being than Gary himself. Gary was too stubborn to care.

Call me please. The last one read. Fuck. They’d made a mess of things. Not only had they made a mess of themselves, but they’d also dragged the others into it.

“Can you pull into that park up there?” Jamie asked Tom. He nodded and turned down the radio, waiting for Jamie to say something more. He didn’t though. Not until he got out of the car and puked some partially digested salad in the grass. Tom came over to him and rested his palm on Jamie’s mid back. Gary used to pet his hair, carding his fingers through it, on those mornings after he’d had a little too much to drink.

Jamie laid on his back in the middle of the parking lot. The rain soaked through his thin shirt in seconds. Tom looked down at him concerned. “I can’t do this, Tom. You’re so lovely. I mean you’re so fucking lovely but I just can’t—”

“I get it, James. You’re still in love with him.” The bastard still looked perfect even drenched with rain. Jamie guessed that he probably looked like a drowned rat. Jamie must have been giving him a confused look because he laughed and explained further. “I saw the way you used to look at him on the tele like he’s the fucking sun. I saw the way you looked at him tonight like being around him was tearing you apart. Besides, I’m pretty sure half the nation knew there was something going on there.” Jamie laughed at that. They had been pretty obvious. And not just Gary, apparently. Apparently, he was just as open of a book. He needed to call Kelly.

She picked up after three rings. “Hi Carra,” she whispered, “needed to get out of the living room, Gaz’s sleeping on my couch.”

“Is he okay?” Jamie asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“He’s a wreck, Jamie. He misses you.” I miss him too, Jamie didn’t say, so much.

“Can I come round?” Jamie asked. Kelly said yes so long as Jamie can get Gary the hell out of her living room and gave Carra her address.

Thankfully, Kelly’s place was nearby, about a mile away. Jamie didn’t know where he got the energy considering he was dead on his feet a few minutes before, but he ran there as fast as he possibly could. His water-filled shoes squished loudly with every step. He got there in seven minutes and was panting heavily when he knocked on the door. Kelly let him in wordlessly.

Gary was still sleeping on the couch when he walked into the living room. Kelly gave him a nod and walked into the kitchen. Jamie kneeled next to Gary and cupped his cheek with his palm. Jamie hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that simple feeling. Gary’s forehead was still crinkled in his sleep. His eyes were dark like he hadn’t slept much. Jamie hadn’t either. It was hard to sleep alone, without Gary’s comforting weight on his chest. Jamie took Gary’s hand from where it was tucked under his chin and intertwined their fingers. The weight of Gary’s hand in his set relief running through Jamie’s body. Gary started to stir at that.

“James?” Jamie smiles at that. His stupid name sounds beautiful coming from Gary’s mouth. His eyes weren’t even open yet and Gary already knows it’s him. “What are you doing here?” He opened his eyes slightly but upon seeing Jamie they were wide open. Gary’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Jamie just wanted to yank him into his arms and hug him forever.

“What are you doing here, you muppet? Bothering Kelly at 2 am?” Jamie said playfully. Gary flushed slightly. “Come on, Gaz. Let’s get you home.” He grabbed Gary’s hand to pull him up. Gary stumbled when he tried to take a step. Carra looked down at the empty beer bottles and figured that was why. He grabbed Gary’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. Gary’s head rested in the crook of Jamie’s neck, his soft breathing tickling at the skin there.

“Kelly,” Jamie called softly into the kitchen, “we’re leaving.” She came out to stand in the doorway in her fluffy, pink bunny slippers that Jamie had somehow not noticed before. Jamie thought he should get Gary a pair.

“Set an alarm,” she said, “he wakes up early. Don’t let him bolt.” Jamie figured Gary wouldn’t be racing out of his apartment at 5 am with the hangover he was sure to have but it was still a good idea. Gary was an unpredictable, stubborn bastard at times. Jamie thanked her and helped Gary down to his car.

It was still pouring when they got out of the building because clearly the gods wanted Gary to either sober up or catch his death. Thankfully, in his upset Gary had forgotten to lock the car meaning Carra didn’t have to fumble around for his keys in the current weather. Except, that Gary wouldn’t get into the car. He sprawled his limbs over the door so Jamie couldn’t push him inside.

“Gary, if you don’t get your arse in that car, I’m going to leave you out here to drown.” Obviously, he wasn’t serious but he figured that Gary might be drunk enough not to know that. Gary just smiled up fondly at him and stayed put.

“I love you,” he said, looking like the most radiant, beautiful thing Jamie had ever seen in his life. His hair was a mess, stuck down to his forehead. His cheeks were bright red from a mix of alcohol and the cold. His eyes were still red but god they held all the love in the world. Jamie could see that somehow, after everything, Gary still loved him, truly loved him. After all the things he said, screamed, did, this man--this beautiful man--still loved Jamie every ounce as much as Jamie loved him. It didn’t matter what he should want, he wanted Gary and all of his adorable, infuriating flaws. His recipe to happiness was just that: his own. He didn’t need stability, calm, peace. He needed to feel something.

Jamie cupped his face for the second time that night. He ran his thumb over Gary’s wet, stubbly cheeks. Jamie couldn’t help himself. He kissed Gary with all of the kisses they’d missed in the past two months. The two months of pain, loneliness, desolation. He kissed Gary with all of the love he had in his cold, wet body and Gary did the same. Gary moved slower than Jamie, less frantically but no less enthusiastically. Gary clutched at his jacket like a vice, unwilling to let go. Jamie moved his hands around Gary’s body. He wanted to make sure that everything was still as he remembered it. And it was. Of course, it was. He had Gary in his arms, it didn’t matter that the rain had picked up. Though, he was sure he’d hear about the soggy interior of Gary’s car in the morning. He pulled away reluctantly for breath and rested his forehead against Gary’s.

#carraville #jamie carragher #gary neville #thank you taylor for the inspiration #very loosely inspired by the way I loved you #my fic

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years ago

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You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 5

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,115k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this Chapter: Y/N is back on the road with Guns n Roses. Will things with Duff remain awkward?

A/N: Hello, my friends! This chapter is very cute. I have a little spoiler about the next chapter: It’s going to be Duff's pov. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage add yourself to my tag list :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a bright sunny day in Los Angeles when Y/N got inside a taxi to go back on tour with Guns n Roses.

The so-called one-month pause became two as soon as Nikki Sixx, the bassist of Mötley Crüe, overdosed and the whole band had to go to rehab, leaving Guns hanging without a band to open for.

She still remembered when Tom called her telling her that they had lost the contract and that the band was feeling very down. However, Aerosmith showed up with a golden opportunity, they wanted Guns to open for them on the European leg of the tour.

So here she was, on her way to the airport to meet with five crazy rockers who, as much as she disliked to admit, she had missed a lot.

These two months out of the road were great for her. She spent the holidays with her family in North Dakota and visited her friends in L. A and finally helped Rose with a part of the rent for the apartment.

She also enjoyed her time doing one of the things she loved the most: go to the beach and get a good old suntan. That was the best part about living in L.A in her opinion, the whole year felt like summer, completely different from the snowy and cold winter in North Dakota.

One week before going back on tour she attended an appointment at her favorite hairstylist, renovating its locks that were now quite long. Giving herself a spa day before going back to the bus’ couch, as Tom would go with them on tour again.

These two months also allowed her to think a lot about Duff. In the first days she was feeling blue, the way he spoke to her during that afternoon and how he didn’t talk to her after that hurt. He even switched places with Steven on the plane back to L.A, just so he didn’t need to sit beside her.

During December she questioned herself about what had she done that could’ve let him so angry at her, but after spending two weeks away from Los Angeles, she got to focus on other things, and following her mom’s advice she decided to give time to time and see how things would.

Izzy helped her with that process too, they crossed paths one day at a park, she went there with her friend’s nephew as she was babysitting and he was skating there. The two of them talked for a few hours and he told her that Duff was just in a bad week, that she shouldn’t take it personally, which made her lose that guilty feeling she was having.

Guilty and Sad, that’s how she was feeling in the beginning. But now she had convinced herself that whatever she had felt for Duff was over. She told herself plenty of times she just felt like that because she was feeling lonely and he had been nice to her.

So now, arriving at the airport, she was 100% sure that she’d look at Duff and her heart wouldn’t skip a bit. They’d talk and she wouldn’t stutter or blush and things would go as they were meant to be.

Walking through the crowd of people inside the airport she finally spotted a tall fuzzy blonde head. Duff. They were just a few meters away from her, making a smile appear on her face.

“Y/N!” Steven shouted waving, not sure if she had seen them.

She raised her hand waving back at him.

“Hello, fellas.” She placed her bags on the ground stopping in front of them.

“Wow, look at you, all tanned!” Slash exclaimed, opening his arms and walking towards the girl to get a hug.

“You know, every time I was about to put a shirt on, I listened to your voice saying that they were the biggest expression of my bad taste.” He said when they let go of each other, smiling at her.

“So you stopped wearing them?” She tilted her head while smiling.

“Nope.” He turned around showing the back of this t-shirt, where “Fuck off I’m out” could be read.

She shook her head, giggling a little.

“I want a hug too!” Steven popped up beside her, involving her in a bear hug, lifting off the ground. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stevie.” She giggled.

“Do you want a hug too?” She looked at Izzy, smirking.

“No.” He said and the two of them laughed.

“Well, I want one.” Duff showed up in front of her, opening his arms.

She hesitated for a second, but moved forward and wrapped her arms around his body.

When he involved her, a certain electricity ran through her body and she wanted to never let go of him. He smelled of cigarettes and cologne though she could smell a small hint of vodka, as if it had stayed in his jacket after he washed it.

He lowered his head to hers and said close to her left ear. “I’m sorry for being an asshole with you.” His voice was low, as if he was sharing a secret that only she could know about.

The sound caused goosebumps on her body, as she answered in almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

They let go of each other and suddenly she realized that they had been hugging each other for quite a while, since Tom had arrived and they didn’t even notice.

Duff moved away rubbing the back of his neck, starting some conversation with Slash.

“Hey, Tom! How were your holidays?” She gave him a quick embrace before stopping beside Steven, who hugged her from beside and rested his face on her shoulder.

“It was good, I was missing the kids already.” He smiled tenderly.

“You have kids? I didn’t know that.” She moved one arm away from Steven's grip so she could hug him back.

She looked down and thought that he looked just like a child when they’re bored and start to get sleepy.

“Yes, I do. Here,” He took his wallet out of the blazer’s pocket, showing her some small pictures he had in it. “this is Jenna, she’s 10,” He pointed to a ginger girl with lots of freckles. “and this is Brian, he’s 6.” He showed a boy wearing a baseball hat.

“They’re adorable, Tom! I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to be away from them all the time.” Y/N smiled at him seeing that he truly loved the kids.

“Yeah, it’s difficult, but it’s a part of the job. It’s thanks to my absence that they’ll be able to go to college.” He put his wallet back in the pocket and adjusted his glasses.

“You’re a good father, Tom.”

He grinned at her words.

“You really are. Can I meet the kids someday?” Steven asked, lifting his head off of her shoulder.

“When the tour is over, let’s have dinner together. I’ll take them and Martha along.” He grabbed his bags from the ground.

“Sure! That’d be cool.” Steven smiled, letting go of Y/N.

“Anyway. Where’s Axl? We need to be on the plane line in 15 minutes.”

“He’s late.” Izzy showed up lighting up a cigarette.

“Not so late,” Duff said, pointing towards the other side of the airport.

Y/N looked and at first, she couldn’t see anything, but then some ginger locks in a flannel shirt showed up.

“You’re late.” Tom said, starting to walk towards the line.

“Sorry, Erin was keeping me busy… if you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“Jesus.” Y/N made a disgusted face while following Tom.

Inside the plane, she found herself in a seat between Steven and Slash. Duff, Izzy and Axl on the other side of the corridor while Tom was sitting one line ahead, beside an old lady.

“Oh man, I wish I could bring Ana with me.” Slash complained.

“Who’s Ana?” Y/N asked smirking.

“My python. I bought her last month.” He smiled turning towards her.

“You mean a snake?” She widened her eyes.

He nodded.

“You have a snake as a pet?” She shivered under the thought, she was terrified of snakes.

“Yes, they are lovely creatures.”

“I’m scared to death of them.”

“No way! But they’re nice!” He turned his body towards her a little, ready to start an argumentation.

“I grew up on a farm, Slash. One of them passed right in front of my feet when we were plowing the land.”

“Did it bite you?” He moved his hair away from his face, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well...no.”

“Then why are you scared? They aren’t violent animals. They just attack if you scare them. Dogs kill more people per year than snakes.”

She paused for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. But still, I don’t think I’ll ever visit your house now.”

He giggled. “Do you have any pets?”

“We always had lots of dogs. They’re easy to train and help you with some chores.” He nodded at her. “I have a cat. Though I don’t know if I could call him mine yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left him in ND when I moved to L.A. I just see him when I visit my parents now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas.”

Slash laughed.

“What?”

“Thomas, you know?” He laughed harder.

Y/N frowned at him, not understanding.

Then Slash pointed to the seat in front of him, where Tom was sitting.

She looked at Tom, then at Slash, then at Tom again and finally understood. Her cat had the same name as Tom.

Y/N laughed, she had never stopped to realize that until now.

Out in the distance, she didn’t see Duff looking at her and smiling when she laughed.

----

Arriving in London, they followed up with their normal activities. Did the soundcheck, had an interview and went backstage to get ready.

“Do you think I should tease my hair?” Axl asked Izzy who simply shook his head as a response.

“God, I’m nervous,” Duff said walking back and forth inside the room. “I need more vodka.”

“No more drinking, you need to calm down.” Y/N pointed at him, then pointing to a black couch at the end of the room, meaning that he should sit down.

“That’s why I need vodka, love.” He walked past her, going after more booze.

The nickname made her cheeks burn and she tried her best not to smile.

“Fuck, I’m nervous too.” Slash said.

“Why are you guys so nervous? You’ve done lots of gigs like this before.” She asked, frowning.

“No, we haven’t, Y/N,” Izzy said, sitting on the couch while looking for his cigarettes. “We’re in another country, a whole different crowd.”

“It’s our first time outside from home.” Duff said, reappearing in the room and sitting beside Izzy.

“Plus, It’s Aerosmith, fuck! We can’t fuck this up.” Steven added, while trying to choose a t-shirt. “Y/N. The black or the white one?” He showed her the two blouses.

“The black one.” She pointed with her pen. “You guys just need to breathe, everything will go fine. I’m sure about it.” She smiled at them, trying to calm their nerves.

“Shit, I think I’m gonna freak out.” Duff exclaimed, drinking almost half the bottle down.

“Not now. I need you good okay?” Axl crouched in front of him. “Just take long breaths, it’s no big deal.”

Axl started breathing slowly, soon being followed by Duff, that seemed to get calmer.

“Guys, you have to go. You’re in in five minutes.” She said looking at her wristwatch.

“Fuck! I’m not ready yet!” Axl complained, rushing towards their bags looking for his clothes as he was still in his travel clothing.

“Oh, God, not today!” Izzy rolled his eyes, starting to smoke the third cigarette.

“What do you want to wear tonight?” She asked, sitting on the floor beside him.

“My leather pants and the leather waistcoat.” He looked at her. “Find them and I’ll find the shoes and my bandana.”

Moving to Axl’s second bag she started looking inside, throwing some of the clothes on the ground. “Got the pants!” She yelled, throwing them in his direction.

“Not this one! I want the cowboy leather pants.” Axl complained.

“Axl!” Izzy interjected.

“Fine, fine!” He lifted his hands in surrender.

After a few minutes, he was ready, running down the corridors while putting his sneakers on.

“You should watch the gig,” Steven said. “You’ve never watched one.”

“That’s because I always have to organize your mess.” She giggled a little.

“No, seriously, I think you’d like it.”

Thinking for a second she answered shrugging. “Why not?”

“Yeas!” He smiled before getting onstage.

Finding some equipment boxes on the side-door of the stage, she climbed on a big one, sitting on it and placing her agenda on her side.

The gig started and she understood why everybody was getting crazy about them.

Axl moved around as if he had eaten batteries for breakfast, jumping, running, screaming and singing. His voice was incredible and he was fierce, just what you need for a frontman.

Slash had lost all his shyness. Dancing, jumping and playing like a god. Every note that left his guitar sounded magical, precisely right. And even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell that he loved doing that.

Izzy was like a black cat in the night, that you just notice if you pay attention. He moved around calmly, playing his guitar and singing the backing vocals so peacefully, as if he was born to do that.

Steven, well, now she understood why they called him popcorn. His hair bounced up and down as his head accompanied the drums he was playing. He smiled and sang along and if he could, she was sure he’d get up and dance to the songs.

But nobody caught her eyes like Duff did. The velocity with which he moved his fingers, the way his head kept up with the beat of the song. The way he walked so majestically with his long legs crossing the stage in a few seconds.

He was beautiful, a masterpiece in her opinion. And she knew that there was no use in trying to fight, she was already in love with him.

----

After the gig, they did the check-in in the hotel, taking a quick shower before stopping in a restaurant for dinner.

Joining two tables together, they sat down. Tom and Izzy taking the borders, Axl, Slash and Steven taking one side while Y/N and Duff took the other.

It was a simple restaurant, nothing fancy, and as they talked and ate Y/N couldn’t help but feeling like she was having dinner with old friends of hers.

“So I get home and grandma is complaining that Axl was sleeping on her couch and that she wants him out of the house.” Slash was telling a story about when Axl used to sleep in his basement.

“I go downstairs and say ‘Axl, you have to find somewhere else to stay, bro’ and he’s like furiously throwing his things inside this backpack while giving me an angry look.”

Axl was laughing at this point.

“We got in my mom’s car and I started driving him towards the place where Izzy was crashing and I was like ‘Why did you sleep on her couch, dude? I had told you not to do that!’ and he looks at me with that ‘I’m gonna kill you look’, he opens the door and jumps out of the car!”

“What?” Y/N asked.

They were all laughing.

“I was pissed.” Axl answered.

“Pissed? None of us saw you for three days!” Slash added while Duff wiped some tears away from his eyes.

“I needed time to calm down.” Axl replied calmly, still smiling as he lifted his glass to drink from it.

“This is the best story you guys ever told me!” She said after she stopped laughing.

----

Leaving the restaurant they started walking towards the hotel, they all went in front, leaving Duff and her behind.

It was a cold night in London and Y/N had definitely forgotten that their winter was actually cold.

A cold breeze got her when she turned a corner and she shivered, hugging herself. Her sweater was definitely not enough for a night like that.

“Here.” She looked to her side and saw Duff taking off his leather jacket and handing it to her.

“You don’t have to.”

“Y/N. Take the jacket.” He smiled at her.

She took it, her cold fingers touching his warm hand slightly.

Putting the jacket on she realized it was big on her, the smell of his cologne mixed with Marlboro hit her nostrils and she hugged the jacket closer to her body, wishing that it was him who was involving her.

A few minutes passed by and they finally reached the hotel. Entering the lobby the warmth welcomed them in and she smiled.

“On which floor are you?” Duff asked.

“Fourth.” She started to take the jacket off.

“I’m on the sixth.”

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Thanks for the jacket, Duff.”

“It’s ok.”

They stopped for a second, looking at each other almost as if they were in trance.

Duff put a lock of her hair behind her ear and licked his lips.

“Y/N.” Tom’s voice cut the atmosphere, making her jump slightly and look in his direction. “Are you coming?” He pointed to the elevator.

“Yeah, just a sec.”

Looking at Duff again, she gave him a small smile. “Good night, Duff.”

He leaned down, lightly kissing her cheek. “Good night, Y/N.”

Getting in her room she quickly changed into some comfy pajamas. She stopped in front of the bathroom mirror when brushing her teeth and soon realized that she was smiling.

Her face seemed to be tickling where his fingers had brushed ever so delicately over. And she could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin.

“Oh, Y/N. You are so fucked now.” She said to herself, walking towards the bed and jumping on it.

She laid there, but she couldn’t sleep, his face and voice filling her mind along with the memories of him playing onstage.

Her hair, which had stayed inside the jacket during the walk to the hotel, was smelling like him.

She turned around, facing the illuminated building in front of the hotel while smiling.

Yes, she was fucked. But she was feeling so happy that she couldn’t even get mad at herself for feeling like this.

#harley writes #you don't want my love #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fic #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine

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hoochy-coo · 3 years ago

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I have a bunch of questions for WS anon since I am interested in other celebs possible pr too!

1. With your job, is it regular for anyone working in the industry to have tea? And do people working in or share what’s real or not?

I would say it gives you the opportunity to hear gossip or rumors that only people in the industry would know. I will say you'd probably need to go out of your way to learn about it. In my case I work with athletes and aside from the people they hookup with, their scandals, vices it's not really a place with tea. But I do make a lot of friends in the industry and we gossip all the time and they share from their respective fields and about the celebs they work with or have a connection to. I guess it's the same as any kind of workplace gossip.

Working in what? You mean working in pr? A celeb's pr team will never tell you what is real/authentic or straight up fake or a mix of both. The most they'll give is what strategies they impose or how they mold things. But not directly, oh this is fake btw. For obvious reasons, they keep a lot of things secret and things only they would know. A lot of friends in pr do like sharing input or teach our gc how things go or look for the signs or the strategies we wouldn't even have figured without their help. A lot of times we also just hear a lot of rumors from inside sources that just outward contradicts what is being presented by the media/pr play of a celeb.

2. Can you tell me your thoughts on often thought pr couples? I am not a harrie at all and I see this from pop culture blogs.

lily/timmy - I don't know if it's pure pr or not but I've at least heard Timmy was also hooking up with other women during all those times he was with Lily. A lot of people have told me it's pure pr/mostly pr though. They did seem like a nice match as future it girl/boy but their reunion it didn't seem as interesting.

seb/ale - I actually don't follow either of those two enough. I thought Seb has always been pretty open about his gfs? At least I thought him and Leighton were pretty public. For his current gf, if it's pr then he hasn't gain a lot of fame imo. The only place I see him relevant or getting talked about is the tumblr/twitter stans which while loud isn't that big. I mean his fans sure let his last film flop hard, I doubt the BO was even enough to pay him.

henry/nat - I feel like I blocked out Henry's love life when he was dating a 19 year old. But I would say this is real. Until I see Natalie suddenly becoming a star I'd say this is pretty standard for Henry. Him and Kaley, yeah none of you can convince me that was real.

chris/jenny - A lot of people will kill me, but since Jessie admitted she also thinks they're pr then I'll admit I do too.

tom/zendaya - I think they're real. Either way I love it. We can probably judge based on how long this will last.

shawn/camila - real, but my friend says they're way more subdued in private at least

bennifer - I already sent an answer to this before

ben/ana - the blueprint

hiddleswift - pr

abelena - pr

If you're asking if I think they're pure pr, I don't know what happens when they're alone together to say it's all fake. I imagine hiddleswift, abelena, ben/ana probably hookup in private but was never as serious or real as they made it appear. If you're asking if they're real and using it for pr, well yeah I would say all of these would qualify as they're using it for pr too which isn't a bad thing. Like Ryan/Blake are obviously real and using their relationship for publicity.

3. Do you think hiddleswift was bad pr for Tom?

Not really. I do think it was meant to be longer with a full better rollout and ended too early with Taylor backing out. As someone who considers herself a self-hating swiftie, Tom gained a lot of loyal fans in the fandom for example and hiddleswift was pretty memorable pop culture moment in general.

4. How do you really feel about the holivia questions and harries in general since you tend to get the most abuse from them?

I'm irritated because of the angry anons and people who can't respect opinion. Other than that, my opinion on holivia still remains the same and it will not physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, or financially hurt either Harry or Olivia. In the first place, I don't remember ever spending money for them. I think as long as Jessie allows pop culture discussion and allows the question, we can all and should respect opinion. I'm not in any way anti or pro holivia. I don't mind a pr relationship cause to me it's a normal and harmless part of their job. I also don't think pr should be equated as bad at all. We're kidding ourselves if we don't think celebs are like this.

5. I’m just basing this from the harry stans in this blog, but how do you see Harry benefit from holivia?

I already said this to my one harrie friend here but I always saw his fans overestimate his fame. Harry is big but he isn't BIG. He hasn't come to the level of Taylor, Drake, Ed, JB, or their counterparts for actors. Every celeb who came at that level went to levels of attention seeking and pr. When you're trying to venture into film, there are separate pr that could also be demanded from you. Being big in one industry doesn't equate to being an instant hit or success in the other. Especially when the film industry does have a lot of hesitation with singers to actors. Especially when with Harry he seems to want to be taken as a serious actor rather than the easy going route many of his contemporaries have done to jump start their acting career. Harry is being talked about a lot by blogs and accounts that used to barely mention him before. He is being discussed as a regular gossip which didn't happen for years. Imo fans just think he's too big for anything or that he is immune to pr or attention seeking. Me and my friends never saw him that way and we also never saw Harry as incredibly relevant or big, rather than he has an incredibly dedicated fanbase

Question for WS anon but I would also like to hear your opinion Jessie? Do you think Eva Mendes and Ryan Gosling call the paps . Because I've generanlly heard that he is an extremely private ccelebrity but all those spottinga with his kid don't necessarily seem very organic to me Also are there any celebs that dont really call the paps?

You can be a private celeb and still call the paps. Ryan is a private guy but he has always been pretty open who he's dating and end of day they don't give us a lot of update or info about their relationship. Abel has started calling the paps a lot, but in hindsight he's still very private about himself.

I think the only celebs who don't call the paps are ones who don't have publicist.

- Worcestershire Sauce Anon

!!!

You answered this so thoroughly, thank you! X

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unsaidholland · 4 years ago

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the way i loved you | h. holland

yes this is fully inspired by the way i loved you by taylor swift, no we’re not going to talk about it.

warnings: really sad ngl, talk of a toxic relationship (WE DON’T STAN TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, BUT AS SOMEONE WHO LOWKEY JUST CAME OUT OF ONE THEY ARE QUITE EXHILARATING)

shawn was the perfect boyfriend. whenever you were hungry and the two of you were going out to eat, he always knew what you wanted. he was a gentleman, always opening up the door for you, always pulled out the chair for you to sit in, and always said what you needed to hear. the two of you had weekly date nights, and you always alternated paying the check, though he would always try to pay. shawn always gives you his jacket when the two of you are out and you’re cold, and he surprises you with your favourite sweets and snacks. he was perfect, and all your friends couldn’t help but be jealous of the new relationship that you were in. ‘where can i get one?’ they would often ask you, and all you could do was laugh it off.

the relationship was new, just a few months old, but it felt lived in. there was no exciting firework when you two kissed, or butterflies in your stomach whenever he did something nice, but the two of you did click really well, so you brushed the lack of butterflies off, thinking that it would come eventually. you did like shawn, but there was something off about the relationship, you just couldn’t put your finger on it. every text he sent didn’t make you excited, but you did want to talk to him.

you woke up to a good morning text, as you always did, and it brought a smile to your face. you texted him back, adding a heart to the end of your text. the day always started the same, and it ended the same, not that you minded. you enjoyed the consistency, right?

you got out of bed and went to go get ready for the day. knowing that you and shawn were going to your parents’ for dinner that night was enough to motivate you to get out of bed and go to work with a positive attitude. knowing that you had something to look forward to after your shift at the record store was enough to make you excited for the day. you made yourself a coffee and warmed up a croissant in the toaster oven, and then you were ready to leave for the day. the drive over to the store was filled with you eating your croissant at red lights, and singing along to a playlist that was playing through the car speakers.

your shift at the record store was a normal one until an all too familiar song began to play over the speakers - faithfully by journey. a song that reminded you of not shawn, but your ex, harry. it was a song that had always reminded you of him, ever since the beginning of your relationship. as time progressed, it had become your song. now, whenever that song came on, it was like putting salt in a wound. all you could think about was harry, and all you felt was pain.

you thought about getting angry at harry late at night, and the way you would call him names behind his back because of how frustrated you were. you thought back to how everything was so intense. every emotion you ever felt with harry was always so strong, you didn’t even know you could feel emotion like that.

a customer had come up to the register with a few records, breaking your chain of thoughts. thinking about harry seemed wrong. you had a boyfriend, it had been months since the two of you broke up. he wasn’t in your life anymore, so why were you thinking about him?

up until your break, you continued fighting off thoughts of harry. shawn came to surprise you at lunch, effectively ending the battle against your thoughts. he had brought the two of you subs, the two of you eating in his car since your manager wouldn’t let him into the breakroom. the heater in his car was on, helping you stay warm as the wind blew the fallen autumn leaves down the street. he had some music playing quietly in the background, a compilation of both of your favourite songs.

“thank you for the sub and for surprising me!” you said after finishing one half of your sub. he smiled at you, silently saying it was nothing.

after the two of you finished your subs, you gave him a kiss goodbye realizing that you needed to be back at work soon. he said his goodbyes, a “see you tonight,” and just like that, he was on his way back to work. you went back into the store, resuming your shift.

•••

thirty minutes before the end of your shift, you had been reshelving some records. you came across a song for every moon by bruno major, an album that you introduced to harry which he’d fallen in love with. you remember the nights the two of you had fallen asleep to that record softly playing in the background, the nights the two of you were yelling at each other while that record was still on. you remember taking it out of a box of your things that he had given back to you after your breakup. you remember feeling like you had lost everything upon the return of the record. it would take you some time to realize that harry was your everything.

your shift ended, and you finished the work you were doing. you got into your car and drove home, feeling compelled to play the album you came across earlier in the day. as easily came on, all you thought about was harry. it was as if he was singing about the two of you. nothing came easily, but you both still tried - until you couldn’t anymore. your relationship wasn’t a fairy tale, but even if you had the option for it to be absolutely perfect where the prince ends up with the princess, you wouldn’t hesitate taking what you had with harry instead.

you got home and started to get ready to have dinner with your parents and shawn. shawn was supposed to pick you up at six-thirty, but it was just before five, so you decided to relax just a little bit before getting ready. you practically threw yourself onto the couch as you stalled. you couldn’t rid the thought of harry from your mind. it seemed like wherever you went, something would always remind you of him. you were lucky that he was working abroad with tom. you thought that would be enough space for you to escape him, but everywhere you went, he was always there. the worst part was, those thoughts only increased in amount and length when you started dating shawn. you couldn’t help it, harry was your first and only long-term relationship, and everyone after harry would be compared back to him.

by the time you were finished getting ready, a knock on your door signified that shawn was there. you walked away, hearing your music get fainter as you walked away from your bedroom. you opened the door to see the blond man holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. he was wearing a blue, floral short-sleeve button-down, with a pair of dark blue pants.

“i thought your mom would like some wine, but these are for you,” he said with a smile, holding the flowers out towards you. you grabbed them, thanking him, and let him in as you searched for a vase to put the flowers into.

“i just have to grab a few things, and then we’ll be ready to go,” you said, putting the vase of flowers down so it was centred on your kitchen island. “they’re beautiful by the way!” you turned back towards your room, grabbing your phone and purse, putting chapstick, and your wallet into it, before coming back out and putting your shoes on.

“let’s go?” shawn asked, and you nodded in response. he held the door open for you as the two of you left your apartment, and he opened the car door for you before he got in himself. the drive over consisted of the two of you singing along to songs on the radio.

•••

dinner ended and now the four of you were sitting in your parent’s living room. you watched as shawn got along well with both of your parents. he and your father had a really good relationship, though it was a professional one, it was still something to admire. the way your mom acted around him also brought you some joy. she loved him, and she was a very honest person, so if she weren’t too fond of him, you’d be able to tell. harry was also well-loved by your parents, but not to the same extent as shawn. somehow he was perfect in their eyes - he was perfect to everyone, and as much as you agreed with them, there was still something wrong with your relationship. something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

it wasn’t until that night when you realized everything. you realized you missed all the yelling and fighting, you missed cursing at him at two am, and you missed how everything felt like someone had turned everything on high. you missed how harry was constantly so frustrating and complicated, yet you felt so intoxicated by him. you missed kissing in the rain and dancing around the streets of london with no care in the world, because all that mattered was him.

you realized that you were always faking a smile around shawn. you never felt anything because it was too perfect. when the time came to it, you wouldn’t feel hurt because you had to break up with him. you would be only hurting him. yes, shawn was perfect, but he wasn’t harry. he didn’t make you feel like you were on a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop, or amidst the drop. shawn didn’t make you break down only to fix it afterwards, and he didn’t make you feel anything but comfortable. you were comfortable because of how picture perfect everything was.

“how did i ever let him get away?” you asked yourself, hoping that you would find an answer. you rolled over and faced where harry would’ve been if he was laying in bed with you. you hoped that he would’ve been right there, as if the breakup never happened.

you and harry were so in love that the relationship crashed and burned. your love for each other was so strong that the both of you acted completely insane around each other, always making something out of nothing, always loving each other to the point where you hated each other, but that was just the way you loved him.

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @musicalkeys @notsosmexy @writertoo18 @icyhollands

harry holland taglist: @euphorichxlland

#harry holland #harry holland imagine #harry holland fic #harry holland x you #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #harry holland angst #harry holland imagines

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somarsword · 4 years ago

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Sleep on the Floor - Part 5

ROGER TAYLOR X READER

Okay, so I know that I’ve been really slacking on this updates, but I just really didn’t like any of my original ideas for this chapter. So as usual, I had rewritten this chapter about a hundred times, changing the story each time. For the most part, I really like how this one turned out. Really sorry about the slow updates, I swear I’m going somewhere with this.

Hope you like it as well! <3

picture uploaded by “*karma*” on pinterest. (link https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/716283515729412436/)

WARNING: none, cursing?, feeling out of place I guess?

word count: 1.8k words

February 21, 1976 - Chicago

The days spent moving around with the boys were never dull. They were always doing something different, dragging you along with them. Most times it’d just be one of them and you going around. How? Well Freddie would drag you around on his countless shopping trips to various shops in different cities. During early mornings, you’d find yourself sitting somewhere with Brian by your side as you both had the habit of waking up fairly early. When the rest of the boys are busy bickering, you and Deaky would quietly slip out of the room and grab a bite to eat or just walk around. Rarely would the boys notice, often still bickering when you both rejoin the group. Finally, Roger. More often than not, you’d be by his side. Any given free time where the boys are busy doing something, and you aren’t talking to (your new found friends) Bill or Tom, you’d be with Roger.

The amount of things you’ve done with the boys and the quick growing friendship with them, thoroughly perplexed you. Given how long they’ve known you and vice versa, it came as quite a shock to you how well you all got on. Of course that didn’t mean you didn’t have those moments of feeling out of place.

Like now, for example.

Standing off to the side, you rubbed your arm awkwardly. You were invited by the boys to join them on their quick meet with a few other bigshots that were in the area. When you accepted their invitation, you knew that their attention would obviously not be towards you, however, you had not anticipated that it would be to this extent. The moment you had stepped into the restaurant they had reserved, the boys were briskly swept off to converse with… well with everyone but you, apparently. Not only were you feeling out of place verbally, but in outfit as well. Why you hadn’t thought about it is beyond you. All the women were wearing dresses, while you stood there with jeans, sneakers, and a simple tee.

You felt like crawling out of your skin. This was a huge mistake. Why had you accepted their invitation in the first place?

Fuck it. You were leaving this party... or whatever the hell this is.

Taking a deep breath you take purposive strides towards the front door.

You take a deep breath in, the afternoon wind breezing past you as you finally exit the asphyxiating event. Never had the open air ever felt better than now.

Beginning to move, you take in your surroundings, thinking of what to put on your agenda for the succeeding hours.

Deciding on just walking around and taking in the city's beauty, you turn down the street, not once glancing back to the dreadful venue.

••• -•- •• •--•

Seeing the hotel come into view, you search for the parked tour bus outside, easily finding it-what with its massive size. As you approach, you fail to notice the blond mop of hair heading straight towards you, too distracted by the scenery around you.

"Are you insane?!" Roger seethes as he attaches his palms to your shoulders. You let out a small yelp as he catches you off guard.

You begin to open your mouth to reply to him, only to be cut off.

"We've nearly called the police to come searching for you!" he continues.

You hang your head as you're suddenly overcome with a feeling of guilt for your actions. He peels his hands off your shoulders.

"Sorry...I didn't mean for any of you to worry"

"Like bloody hell you didn't! What did you think disappearing would do?" His voice was still raised as he scolded you. You wordlessly follow behind him as he begins to head back towards the bus.

"I just can't believe you'd do something so impulsive." he mutters angrily under his breath.

Stopping at the payphone located next to the bus, Roger dials the others to let them know you were with him and no longer missing.

As soon as he sets the phone back on the hook, he takes a deep breath before looking towards you. It takes a couple minutes before he actually speaks.

"Why'd you leave in the first place anyway?" He was no longer angry, just exhausted. His tone no longer raised and instead disappointed.

"I-" you look away, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment as you rethink your reason. "I know it's a foolish reason, but at the moment I just really felt out of place...I mean look at what I'm wearing" you gesture towards your outfit.

Roger's once knitted eyebrows, loosens as realization dawns on him that no one had told you about even dressing up. Not even him.

"Fuck. Y/n I am so sorry. It had completely slipped my mind to tell you about the dresscode" he's quick to apologize. You shrug halfheartedly.

"It's fine I guess, I know that there's been a lot on your mind, as well as the boys. I just think it was a mistake that I had even gone at all today. I appreciate the invite, I really do, I just don't think it was my scene to begin with" you reason, kicking a pebble on the ground, avoiding his gaze.

He sighs deeply.

"I wish you had told me you felt uncomfortable earlier instead of just up and leaving. You gave us all the scare when we had realized you had disappeared" he says.

"I didn't want to burden any of you with my inability to cope. It just seemed easier to leave and then meet up back here"

Just as he's about to negate your statement, a shrill voice is heard followed by a pair of arms wrapping around you.

"Oh darling, there you are!" Freddie says urgently as he hugs you.

"Hi Fred" you say, hugging him back. Finally letting go of you, you come face-to-face with the remaining band members.

"I'm sorry for running off" you mumble softly, rubbing your arm in an attempt to calm your nerves.

Shaking his head in both amusement and annoyance, Brian pulls you into a quick hug. Followed by John who just gives you that look.

"Please never do that again. You're no magician darling, no need to perform vanishing acts on us" Freddie says. You nod before pulling away, eyes still trained on the ground beneath you.

There's a terse silence that overtakes, and you feel Roger itching to speak up.

He steps forward, obviously planning on bringing up what you had previously told him, but before he could utter a word you wordlessly step away and retreat into the bus.

It was an odd experience. Going from feeling absolutely outcasted to terribly cared for. You knew that they didn't mean to make you feel that way at the event, but regardless, they still did.

••• -•- •• •--•

You tossed and turned as you tried to get comfortable on the old couch of the bus. It was definitely not fit for providing a goodnight's rest. Miami and the boys were obviously properly situated in their own rooms in the lavish hotel you were parked outside. Although they had tried to book a room for you, the hotel rooms were full, so you were left with no other option (well in your opinion anyway) but to sleep on the bus.

Frustrated, you grab the blanket and pillow and move to the floor, which surprisingly felt better to sleep on than that rutty old couch.

Just as you begin to drift off, you hear someone call your name in a whisper outside.

Groaning ruefully, you roll over and try to shut out the sound. You were far too exhausted to stand up anyway.

It resumes for about 2 minutes before it finally stops and you let out a sigh of relief. That relief is short lived, however, as someone opens the door to the bus and steps in.

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?" you recognize the unmistakable voice of Roger.

"What the fuck do you want Roger?" You groan into the pillow as you bury your head into it.

"I came to check up on you-which I'm glad I did. Are you seriously sleeping on the floor when there are literally beds at the back?" He questions you.

"They're not mine. I don't want to intrude into your personal spaces" you mumble sleepily.

"Y/n-" he begins but you cut him off.

"It's fine Roger, really. I don't want to be an inconvenience to any of you" you say, still not lifting your head to look at him.

You hear him let out a frustrated sigh before hearing the spring of the couch compress under Roger.

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" He asks, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm well aware, thanks." You reply, causing a laugh to escape Roger's lips.

"Well if you so thoroughly insist on being stubborn, I should warn you that I'm a stubborn man myself" He states.

"Look Rog, thank you for the offer but I'm alright here" as soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear the springs of the couch release their tension as Roger stands up. Then you're lifted off the ground as Roger carries you towards the back.

"WHAT THE-" you let out a small oof as Roger tosses you onto his designated bunker.

Recollecting yourself, you sit up and finally turn to him with blazing eyes. He returns your gaze, but looks at you innocently, as if he hadn't just picked you up and transferred you. Just as quickly, his playful gaze turns stern.

"It's no longer a choice. You will be sleeping here for the following days, okay Y/n? There's no need to sleep on the floor" you nod at his…. command? Request?

"Fine. Now can you leave me be? I wanna sleep and you interrupted it just as it came" you complain. He rolls his eyes but begins towards the exit. Pausing before he's completely out he turns towards you.

"I came to say sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn't reverse earlier's events, but I just wanted you to know. Also, you're not a burden, you're our friend, and we care about you deeply. It's not an inconvenience to help you out...it's our pleasure, okay?" he says. You shoot him a smile.

"Thanks Roger." You say as he smiles back softly.

"Well. Goodnight Y/n"

"Night Rog" you respond as you shoot him a soft smile.

With that, he shuts the curtain which divided the bunkers from the rest of the cabin. Leaving you to your-

"I almost forgot" he pops his head back in before tossing your pillow and blanket at you roughly. The pillow hits your chest harshly (but not painfully), knocking the wind out of you.

"Night Y/n!" He calls out as he giggles from his childish antics, exiting the bus before you could retaliate to his actions.

"Fucking prick" you mumble underneath you breath as you settle into the bed, finally closing your eyes.

Fucking beautiful, caring prick.

taglist: @anotheronewritesthedust1

#roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor #ben hardy!roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben!roger #ben hardy!rogertaylor #queen #queen fanfic #Brian May #John Deacon #freddie mercury #Jim Beach

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missnxthingg · 4 years ago

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𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕨𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 • 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

SUMMARY: (Y/N) gets offered to make her childhood dream come true, even though her mother keeps making her annoyed. Tom starts feeling some new things which he never felt before, and can’t even name it.

Based on my one-shot, Flawless.

PAIRING: Rich!Tom Holland x Rich!Reader (Best Friends to Lovers AU)

WORDS: 6.3K

WARNINGS: Swearing, underage drinking and FLUFF

A/N: I just wanted to say that’s it’s a short one, but it’s SO CUTE. I love it! AND ITALICS ARE TOM’S THOUGHTS.

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𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 • 𝕧𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

Josephine’s office on Midtown Manhattan had a great view of New York’s skyline, and it was beautiful during the afternoon when the sky was orange, almost like a golden glow covered the whole city. (Y/N)’s small office could barely fit two people at the same time, but it had the most incredible view of Central Park, glowing with the afternoon sun. Sometimes she would just pop up in her mother’s office to close her door, prepare some coffee, put on some soft music and sit there watching the park. When she had work to do, it wasn’t so bad with one of those views.

Fashion work was hard. (Y/N) would watch people go crazy every time they had a big event coming and this time it was Vogue’s cover and big interview with her mother’s brand. People were freaking out to put up with some looks, trying to contact models and makeup artists. Josephine even had her daughter back in the office to help her with reaching people and even sewing last-minute outfits. And right now she was leaning back on her chair, legs resting over the table as she sipped her coffee and tried to contact models for work.

“Everything is a disaster.” Josephine said as she came into her office, slamming the door behind her. “I just need a second of quietness.”

“Do you want some coffee? Maybe tea?”

“Chamomile, please.” Her mother breathed out, and she laughed, getting up to her small coffee station on the back of her office to prepare some tea for her mother. “Your outfit looks cute.”

“Thanks.” (Y/N) glanced down to her body and chuckled. Today she went for yellow plaid high waisted pants, a simple black shirt and heels. Josie always taught her how to dress up fancy but straightforward during office times. She approached her mother, who was now sitting on her chair, and gave her some tea.

“Thank you, sweetie. I just can’t be out there any longer. They’re driving me insane.”

For the past week, Josie was too busy to pick on everything her daughter was doing. That’s why their relationship wasn’t conflictual for the past days. She even came home for dinner more than one time, and maybe she was too tired of work to go to a restaurant and talk even more about fashion with some coworker or fashion journalist.

“I got Taylor Hill and Bella Hadid to model for us.”

“I got Naomi Campbell for cover.” She said, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, are you serious?”

“And then she cancelled.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and leaned back at her desk, watching her mother dramatically drink her tea. “We have a week to find someone else to cover the spot.”

“Go with Bella Hadid.” She suggested, and Josie groaned.

“If I get Bella for cover, I have to find another model to cover her spot.” She finished her tea and glanced up to her daughter. It was like something clicked on her head. (Y/N) frowned as she watched her mother get up her seat and smirk.

“What are you thinking?”

“You could model for me.” Josie said as she pointed her index finger to her daughter, and (Y/N) chuckled.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. You look gorgeous wearing the collection.” Josie unlocked her phone and showed her a picture where she was wearing one of Josie’s designs. “So, what do you think?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to do this. Vogue fucking Magazine.”

“Good, so I’ll need you here Friday after class so we can take pictures. Come without makeup and something simple to take off.”

“I’ll be here.”

Even though she said she wouldn’t involve herself with the fashion world, (Y/N) has been reading Vogue ever since she was a little girl. She always imagined herself as one of the girls looking all pretty and displaying beautiful clothes for the public. Now she has the opportunity to do it, and she wouldn’t let it go to waste. When she told Tom, he got very happy for her.

“It’s good to see you happy for the first time since I met you.” Tom said, and she jumped excitedly, making him chuckle.

“Vogue, let your body move to the music.” She sang as she danced awkwardly in excitement. She has catwalked to that song with her mother’s clothes for years, and now she could listen to it while modelling for the magazine she loved for years.

“Do you want me to drive you there?” Tom asked, and she shook her head.

“Mum will send me someone to pick me up, as always.”

Tom was happy to see her excited and getting along with her mother. The week that followed Noel’s party, she looked really down and she wanted more than anything to be alone. Tom didn’t let it happen though. He knew that she was upset about her father and now one of her friends was slut-shaming her for sleeping with Noel. As she said before, she permitted Stacie to be with Noel at that party but ended up with him instead, which resulted on Stacie screaming at her in front of the whole school and Courtney being quiet about the whole thing, deciding not to pick sides. The thing was that (Y/N) wasn’t upset about Stacie, only about the way she acted and exposed her, but she was upset with Courtney, because she meant a lot to her.

He tried to do everything to cheer her up after what happened, but it appeared that her home life was much better than before. Her father met her for dinner one night, her mother backed down and left her alone, even had dinner at home to be with her daughter. So all he did was be there for her. The day he headed back to the city with her was one of her lowest points, and he stood by her side the whole day, even went to brunch with her. Now he was glad that she had a big smile on her face.

When (Y/N) got to her mother’s office, makeup artists attacked her and started to produce her face. She didn’t even have the time to drink some water or do anything at all. It didn’t matter, because once they finished, she could see how gorgeous she looked. Soon she was wearing a mint green suit in front of a white background, waiting for the photographer, who seemed to be late.

“Where the fuck is he?” She whispered to herself as she rechecked her Instagram, meeting with the same pictures.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry I’m late.” A man said from behind her, probably the photographer. She turned around to meet the man she was going to spend the whole afternoon with, and her smile died when she saw who it was.

“Garold?”

“You can call me Gary, sweetheart.” She groaned and rolled her eyes as he smiled at her.

“You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working for Vogue over a decade now.” Her eyes widened, and she ran out of the room, directly into her mother’s office. She was too busy writing something on a bunch of paper.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right? Garold, as my photographer?”

“I thought you might feel more comfortable with someone from the family.”

“Mom, for the thousandth time. Garold is not my family. He’s the guy you’re fucking with.” Josie rolled her eyes and stood up to sit in front of her daughter. “He’s not my dad, and you know that.”

“Just give him a chance. He’s a nice guy.”

“He literally flirted with me when I found him half-naked in our kitchen.” She groaned, a little disgusted to remember that situation. “Fuck this. I’m out of here. Call me when you get a new photographer.”

(...)

“Wow, that was really good.” Tom congratulated his father after he got his ball inside the hole on the floor, and he had a big smirk coming his son’s way. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, son. Better watch your back, because I’m coming for you.” Dom winked, and Tom chuckled.

His family finally found a good golf club in New York and decided to have a day off to hang out together. Nikki and Paddy were being taught by Harry, messing up their moves every time, getting Harry angry and Sam laughing in the background. Tom, Harrison and Dom were playing by themselves until Harrison got tired and went back to sit with Sam and eat something. The only thing they were missing was the beer. Being an 18-year-old British guy in America was hard, but at least the chips were good.

“Mom, you’re doing great.” Tom shouted and received a death glare from Harry, and a big smile from Nikki.

“Thank you, love. Harry doesn’t think so.” Nikki looked back to her son, and he rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just take a break. I need to calm down.” Harry rubbed his face and made everyone laugh. He sat next to Sam and tapped the back of his head so he could stop laughing.

“Totally worth it.” Sam laughed, and now all the boys were gathered together to watch Dom helping Nikki and Paddy since Harry was too pissed to do so.

“Short temper.” Harrison mocked.

“Dickhead.” Harry replied, making Harrison shrug. “So, you never told us about your party on Long Island.”

“Well, we both got very drunk. Oh, and (Y/N) set us both with some girls.” Harrison started. “Yeah, I got luckier than Tom, I spent the whole day after with the girl back in her room. Only headed back to the city at the end of the afternoon.”

“What happened Tom?”

“Uhm, mine went away when we woke up, and I headed back to the city with (Y/N).” He took a sip of his coke and shrugged. “She was, uhm…” He cleared his throat. ”Not okay, so I spent the whole day with her at Central Park.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to date.” Sam said, and all the boys agreed.

“Shut up, can I continue?” Tom asked, and all the boys nodded. “I was upset too. She slept with that idiot just because she was feeling lonely. She could’ve come to me so we could talk, but she prefered to run into his arms.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head no. “You need to talk about it.”

“We have nothing to talk about. Plus, we’re good. And she seems happy.” The twin glanced at Harrison, and the boy shrugged.

“She seems cool.” He shoved some chips in his mouth. “(Y/N) is cool, you know? I think we’re getting closer and I really like her.”

And there it was - the smallest, single tingle of jealousy inside Tom’s chest. He never felt it before, so he frowned when these feelings surfaced and took a grip of his heart. He clenched his jaw and looked down to hide his face. Was he jealous that Harrison was getting closer to (Y/N)? It couldn’t be. Why would he be jealous anyway, it’s not like he’s in love with her. Maybe he’s just jealous because he finally found someone so dear and close to his heart, that the thought of sharing it with someone else was too much for him.

“Yeah, but she is Tom’s girl. Right?” Harrison finished, and the boys started teasing Tom again.

“For fuck’s sake…” Tom groaned and quickly shot up to get away from them. Also, he didn’t want them to see the small smile that formed on his lips.

He couldn’t help but wonder how things would be if she joined them for a golf day. Would she know how to play, or would he have to teach her? Would she get along with his mother? Would she be so close to Harrison that it made his heart strangely tingle again? There were so many possibilities of what could have happened, but over everything, he wishes she was here. But he knew that she was very happy wherever she was right now because it was something she dreamed for a very long time.

It was strange because he never thought about any of those things before. He doesn’t stick around girls long enough to even feel anything. So why he was holding on to her like that and why the hell he couldn’t wait to see her again? Was it love? Tom wouldn’t know. The only kind of love he ever felt was towards his family and friends. But the romantic kind of love, he never even slightly felt it. No, that couldn’t be it - he thought, still not trusting his own words.

And just like magic, his phone rang. It was like his mind called for her and she only made the dial. ‘Maybe we’re more connected than I thought’. He walked away from his family to answer the phone privately. Why the hell was she calling him when she was supposed to be busy with the photo shoot?

“Hello?” Tom asked when he answered, and she sighed in relief.

“Tom. Thank God!” Her voice echoed through the phone.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Her breathing changed again like she was infuriated.

“I fucking hate my mother.” She admitted.

“Don’t say that.”

“Anyway, I’m at my apartment, packing to leave for my dad’s. But I was wondering if we could meet later; I need a drink.”

“Sure, you wanna go to Vertigo’s?” He asked and she groaned.

“I don’t wanna leave the apartment. Just come over, my dad will be out. And bring Harrison.” Why did he need to bring Harrison? Did you actually want to see Haz, using him only as an excuse to bring his best friend over? Would he be the third wheel? “I need as many people as possible to distract me. But I’m pissed at Courtney, so he will do.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile crept on his lips, and he made sure it was unnoticed by anyone else. “I’ll be there. Text me the address.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

(...)

(Y/N) waited for her father in the lobby as she frenetically tapped her fingernails on her suitcase, ignoring the stares as people passed through her. After all, people on her building were very curious, especially about her family. She prayed that her dad would get there before her mother, so when she saw him coming through the front door, she sighed in relief.

“Sweetheart. You called me?”

“Dad. Oh, thank God.” (Y/N) rushed to his embrace, and he hugged her very tightly. “Mom’s crazy.”

“Oh, I know that.” He chuckled. She leaned back and he pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Let me take you home and you can tell me everything about it. Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

(Y/N) told everything to her dad on their way home. She told him how loud her mother was on the first night she brought her new boyfriend home, how she was constantly pushing that strange man into her life and the boundaries they didn’t respect, like Garold standing half-naked on their kitchen. She finished with what happened earlier that day by the time they arrived at his building.

“Your mother makes me laugh until this very day.” He chuckled, making his daughter roll her eyes. “She’s really crazy. I’ll talk to her about it, tell her to back off.”

“I don’t think she’ll listen.” She admitted defeat and threw herself on the couch. “I’m just…” She sighed. “Tired of her bullshit. I don’t think she even cares about how I feel.”

“(Y/N/N), you know that’s not true.” He sat next to her, pulling her into a side hug, rubbing his hand on her arm. Vincent’s hugs always made her calm and feeling like she’s home. “You don’t remember that because you were too little, but I worked a lot, even more than I do now. Your mother was the one who was always home, even dropped work for a while, to take care of our little girl.”

“I thought she never wanted me. At least that’s what she says to me.”

“At first, she really did it because I wanted kids. But Josie couldn’t let go of her little girl. She loved you more than anything else and you were so precious. The first time you got sick, we had to take you to the hospital, she cried the whole time we were there and I needed to comfort her to stop crying. That night, you slept in her arms and she stayed up, holding you.”

“It’s hard to believe.” She chuckled, leaning back in her seat. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I wonder what happened to Josephine (Y/L/N).”

“Well, she stopped being Josie Rhodes to become Josephine (Y/L/N). The spotlight, runaway and fashionista Josephine.” She nodded and cuddle into her dad.

“I just wish we could get along.”

“Me too, sweetie.” He pressed a kiss on her temple. “But your mother is trying. I know our divorce was tough for her because I went through the same thing. We loved each other very much when we were teenagers, we still do. But we grew apart with time and unfortunately, things end; things change. Doesn’t mean there’s no love involved. She loves you very much, I promise you.”

“I just wish she could act like a real mother sometimes. And I miss our family.”

“I know you do, sweetie. But you have to be strong.” She nodded. “Things will never get back to what they used to be. I found someone who makes me feel loved again, doesn’t your mother deserve that?”

“I just don’t see honesty in Garold. He looks like he’s taking advantage of her. I think that’s why I don’t like him. I just wanna protect what’s left of our family.”

“Just give him a chance. Maybe he turns to be a decent guy. And if you still don’t feel comfortable with him around, you can always come to me.”

“You’re never home, dad.” She glanced down to the rings on her fingers and sighed as she played with them. Vincent’s heart crumbled and he pressed her even tighter against him.

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I can try to stay here more often, but work is hard.” She nodded. “Hey, you know what might cheer you up? Hot cocoa and helping me find an outfit for my date.”

“Yeah, you know how to cheer me up. I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, sweetie.”

(...)

Later that day, Tom headed to (Y/N)’s dad apartment in Tribeca, humming to a song on the radio with Harrison. They had a long day at the golfing club, went home to shower and were now driving to meet the girl who called earlier for them. Tom spent the whole day thinking about her because she seemed angry and upset. But them again, when wasn’t she like that? It was tiring him, but he cared too much about her, so here he was, rushing to her apartment.

Also, he was still wondering what was that tingle on his gut when Harrison started to talk about his friendship with her. And the fact that she also wanted to see Haz tonight, instead of him alone. But Tom would be a fucking great actor because no one even noticed him distance during the rest of the day. Although, there was a moment he was pretty sure his mom knew, considering she came to hug him out of nowhere. It eased him though; she always knew how to ease him.

(Y/N) said they didn’t need to dress up when she texted to tell them the address. Harrison decided to go with joggers and a t-shirt, pretty basic. And Tom got the first sweats he saw on his closet but remembered to apply perfume - just because she said he always smelled nice when he was wearing that perfume - and rushed to get out of that apartment.

When she opened the door, the boys have never seen her so… raw. No makeup, hair tied up, barefoot and wearing a pajama with little avocados on the bottom, and a shirt that said: “Let’s avo-cuddle”. Tom found it adorable and a genuine smile crept on his lips. She was holding her phone between her shoulders and ear, a glass of whiskey on her hands. She signed the boys to follow her inside while she wasn’t finished.

“Sorry, boys. I was ordering pizza. Just make yourself comfortable.” She signed the couch and went to the kitchen.

Vincent’s apartment was pretty impressive and well decorated, with big windows and a great view of Manhattan’s skyline. Maybe too big for a single man who only had his daughter over once in a while. It wasn’t bigger than his old apartment from back when he was married, but it was big enough for the number of people that lived there. The boys sat and (Y/N) sat between them, handing both glasses of whiskey.

“I’m driving darling. Sorry.” Tom said and she nodded, pouring the liquid into her glass. “Wow, don’t you think that’s too much?”

“Don’t care.” She gulped her drink down. “I had a horrible day…”

She filled them in with all the details, starting with Garold, and ending up with her father’s confession. For Tom, it was just the two of them there, like he was the only one supposed to know what was happened. Reality crashed whenever Harrison spoke up, but he would ease every time her drunk hands rested on his legs. He wanted her to just rest her head on his chest and - No, stop it! Keep it together, Tom.

“To be honest, I don’t know why you’re so mad. He’s a photographer, so what?” Harrison started once she finished. “I know you don’t like him, but don’t let this opportunity go because of him. Being in Vogue is everyone’s dream, even mine.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” He smirked as he nodded.

“I always wanted to be a model, appear in a big magazine.” He shrugged. “Just don’t waste your turn, darling.”

“Do you wanna do it with me? I’ll tell my mom I’ll only do it with you.” And there it was again, the tingle on Tom’s gut, the clench on his jaw.

“Are you serious?” Harrison’s eyes lighted up, making him sit on the edge of the couch.

“Yeah, of course! We can do it together, it will be fun.” She sounded excited, which only made Tom want to groan.

“Okay. I’ll not complain about it.” He shrugged. They kept talking about it and Tom just remained silent, trying to calm down and understand what was happening to him. They only ended the talk when the pizza arrived. “I’ll go get it. My treat.”

“Sure you don’t need help?”

“I got it, darling.” He said before slamming the door closed.

(Y/N) turned to Tom and smirked. He spaced out and wasn’t paying attention to their conversation by now. She giggled and pulled him into a side hug, pressing a big kiss on his cheek, which only made him smile. He melted into her again, like he always did. She had him on the palm of her hand, and she knew how to make him cave.

“You’ve been strangely quiet today.” She said, and he shrugged. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m just tired, that’s all.” She smiled softly, leaning back to show him her shirt.

“Can you read it out loud for me?” She pointed out the shirt, and he giggled.

“Let’s avo-cuddle.” He said, making her hug his middle in seconds.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She rested her head on his chest, and there it was, what he wanted to happen all night. Just the two of them, together, silently. He learned to enjoy that ever since she slept on his embrace during their trip back to Manhattan. Sometimes he would think about her snoring on his chest to help him fall asleep. A different tingle appeared for him, like billions of little butterflies flying on his stomach, which only made him smile wider. As an instinct, he pressed a kiss on top of her head, making her shift and bury her head on the crook of his neck. “Feeling better?”

“Much better.” She looked up to him and smiled. She got what she wanted; to make him happy. And he looked so damn cute with a grin on his face. She could stare at it for the rest of her life and never get tired of it.

Only when Harrison came back, she let go of him so they could eat and watch a movie together. But Tom didn’t feel the strange tingle on his guts. (Y/N) sat far away from Harrison, closer to Tom, and eventually, she’d brush her feet on his. The only thing the could feel was the billions of butterflies. He didn’t know what they meant, but he was liking it.

By the end of the movie, Harrison was asleep on the couch. (Y/N) didn’t have the heart to wake him up and just covered him with a blanket and lowered the lights. Tom cleaned their mess and started to wash the dishes for her, trying not to care about how nicely she was treating Harrison right now. But when she came to him in the kitchen and tiredly smiled at him, he forgot everything.

“Thank you for helping out. It really meant a lot to me that you were here to distract me.”

“Whenever you want, darling.”

“Do you think I’m overreacting with this situation?” She asked as she started to dry the dishes and put them away.

“A little, but it’s okay.” He shrugged. “You should give Garold a chance. I know he doesn’t look good, but your mother is a grown woman and knows what she’s doing. You need to stop getting those small things in your way of happiness.”

“Tom, to be honest, you’re the only thing that brings me joy now.”

“Don’t say that…” He shook his head.

“But you are!”

“I shouldn’t be, (Y/N).” He stopped washing the dishes and sighed. “I’m really glad that I can bring you joy because you bring it to me too. But I can’t be your only source of happiness, and it makes me really upset when I see you upset.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Well, I do. Now you know.” She pulled him into a tight hug, with her hands softly resting on his hair. It took him a couple of seconds to understand what was going on, but soon he melted into the hug, pulling her by the waist. “It’s getting late, (Y/N).”

“Stay.” She whispered in his ear.

“What?”

“Please, stay. I don’t want you gone yet.” He nodded and she pressed a kiss on his neck, making electricity curse through his whole body. “C’mere, I’ll show you my room.”

“What about Harrison?”

“He’s gonna be fine. My dad won’t be back home tonight and the couch is pretty comfortable. I don’t wanna wake him.”

He nodded and quickly texted his mom about staying over. She entwined their fingers and pulled him to the bedroom, which was surprisingly simple, but he imagined it would be since she doesn’t spend much time there. She prepared the bed and lied under the covers. Tom stood there, waiting for her to invite him.

“Why are you standing there? Come lie with me.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. Only if you are uncomfortable.”

“N-no, I’m okay.” He sat in bed next to her and removed his shoes. Once he lied down, she found her way between his arms. His stomach pressed on her back and nose so close to her ears. The only thing he could hear was her soothing breathing while she was falling asleep in his arms again. He wishes he could hear her heart, though. Was it beating just as fast as his did? He couldn’t believe they were about to sleep in the same bed, especially in the position they were found right now.

“Good night, Tommy.”

“Good night, (Y/N).”

(...)

“Let me recap this. You’ll only do it if it’s with him?” Josephine pointed Harrison, who was standing next to Tom, right behind her.

(Y/N) knew her mother was desperate for new models. Ever since she gave up on the photoshoot, Josie had to spend full time at the office looking for new replacements and it’s been really hard for her to find last minute models to fill the blank. So it was the perfect opportunity to make her mother give in to her propose. That’s why they marched to her office to confront her after lunch on Saturday.

Tom had to say, he was fucking terrified of meeting her mother for the first time. He wanted her to like him, because his daughter was important to him, so it was a big deal. The night before that was amazing, especially the part after Harrison went to sleep and she involved him with her arms so they could sleep together. He spent the minutes before he fell asleep thinking how much he appreciated that single moment - and the girl holding him.

“Yes, mother. Take it or leave it.”

Josie stood up and marched her way to Harrison, who gulped loudly and started to shake, too nervous to have such an important person to the fashion world judging him. Whatever she would say next would define if he had even the slightest chance in the fashion world. With her glasses on the tip of her nose, she took a closer look at Harrison.

“You’re cute. Your eyes are pretty and we can actually work out with that.” She fixed her glasses and looked behind him. “Marcus, get him to make up and tell the dressing department to put him in the stripped leather jacket.” Her assistant nodded and (Y/N) encouraged Haz to follow the guy with a nod.

Josie watched him go away and glanced at Tom, who was quiet and wanting to throw up, only standing there to support his best friends. When her eyes fixated on him, he could just explode right there. Yeah, she’s judging me.

“And who are you?”

“I’m T-Tom. Tom Holland.” He replied, too nervous not to stutter.

“He’s my best friend, mom.” (Y/N) said and Josie nodded.

“And what are you doing here? Go get dressed, (Y/N/N)!” Josie said and her daughter nodded, disappearing through the door in the blink of an eye. Now he was alone with her mother. Great. “So, you’re my daughter’s best friend. You’re new in St. Jude?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just moved here from London and got an exchange scholarship.”

“Oh really?” She nodded, sitting back at her desk. “And you’re planning on using this opportunity to get into an Ivy League school, right? Or are you thinking about Cambridge and Oxford?”

“Actually, I want to be an actor. So I was thinking NYU or UCLA.” He said and her mouth fell agape.

“So, you think you can be friends with my daughter if you’re not planning to make something out of your life?”

“Excuse me?” Tom frowned, and Josie shrugged.

“I didn’t like your face from the moment you walked through that door. But I’m getting along with my daughter again, so I won’t say anything about it. Just be sure that I don’t approve your friendship.”

“I’m sorry, but are you only saying that because I don’t want to go to an Ivy League school and become a lawyer or something?”

“I’m only saying that because I don’t like your face.” She smiled, cynically. Tom rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“I can’t do anything about that. But I assure you that I’m a good person and I’ll always do whatever I can to make your daughter happy. I hope you realise that someday.” That was the last thing he said before waving goodbye and walking away from the office. “Fucking bitch.” He hissed. No wonder (Y/N) was getting into messed up fights with her mother.

He wanted to tell her everything, but when she walked out of the dressing room with a turtle neck red blouse, a leather jacket and light washed jeans, he got lost in his own words. She looked beautiful, even with that weird star make up they did on her. He blushed when she noticed him mesmerized by her.

“So, how do I look?”

“Flawless.” He replied, making her smile.

“Where’s Harrison?”

“I’m right here, darling.” Harrison was wearing almost the same outfit. The stripes on his leather jacket were the same colour as her makeup, her jeans were dark washed and he was wearing a simple white t-shirt. They looked like a couple matching outfits. Fucking great.

“Well, someone looks hot.” She winked at Harrison, making him chuckle.

“You think so?” He opened his jacket and turned around so they could have a full look. “I do look hot.”

“Come on, let’s kick some ass.”

(Y/N) went a few steps ahead and Harrison stood behind to talk to Tom for a little. His best friends said all the horrible things Josie said to him, making Haz curse the woman more than once. Tom asked him not to tell (Y/N) though, he didn’t want to ruin this opportunity again, which Harrison agreed. When they followed her into the studio, they found (Y/N) having a conversation with Garold.

“I know I was childish and selfish when I ran out of the studio that day. I’m gonna give you one chance Garold, that doesn’t mean you can cross the boundaries. So no naked walking around the apartment and try keeping it low in bed. Okay?” He gave her a nod. “I’m doing this for my mother, not because of you.”

“I know. Thank you, though.” He said and she nodded, getting into position for the photo shoot.

“Come on, Harrison. I’m gonna start without you.” She said as she fixed her hair for the camera. Harrison chuckled and joined her in front of the camera.

Tom sat in the back and watched his best mate take pictures with the girl. They seemed to be having a lot of fun and they had quite a way to modelling. They knew good positions and how to interact with the camera, and with each other. Tom couldn’t help but feel the tingles again. He didn’t want to feel it, he fought not to feel it, but they were there. When Harrison pulled her closer by the waist and she rested her head on the crook of his neck, he almost snapped.

This is stupid, he’s your best friend for fuck sake - Tom thought, and he wanted to cry for feeling that way. He shouldn’t feel it, there was nothing wrong going on. He was the one acting off and he needed to calm himself down. Luckily, someone served him some champagne and he had a couple of glasses, which did not help him. The only thing that helped was having the two models done with their photoshoot, after many changes of clothes and compromising pictures.

“And… we’re done.” Garold finished and (Y/N) groaned.

“Thank God! The heels are killing me.” She sat next to Tom and ripped them off in seconds. She was wearing the prettiest pink outfit, Tom’s favourite so far, which made him not want to tear his eyes away from her even for a second. Her heels were so big that her feet were screaming for freedom. “Uhm… I’m starving.”

“We can go get something to eat.”

“I was thinking Vertigo. They have burgers and booze.”

“Perfect.” He smiled and helped her get up to go change. She got back into her regular clothes and was waiting for Harrison to come back so they could all leave together when her mother called her from the end of the hall.

“Yes?” (Y/N) replied.

“I’ll see you back in the apartment tonight?” Josie asked, hope filling her chest.

“Tomorrow, I promise.” (Y/N) softly smiled at her, making Josie nod.

“We could have dinner together.”

“Can Tom come along?” (Y/N) asked, making both Josie and Tom stiffen. She still didn’t know what her mother thought about him. They shared looks and Tom silently waited for her response, which she only took a deep breath and forcedly smiled.

“Of course.” Josie practically vomited the words against her will. Tom was surprised but nodded in agreement. Maybe she was just trying to get along with her daughter.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) replied before pulling Tom to join Harrison at the lift. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

(...)

Harrison and Tom laughed at (Y/N)’s expression as she tried a Long Island Iced Tea for the first time. It was such a strong drink they all agreed to order and see if they liked it. The mixture of alcohol could be good or horrible for the one drinking it. Harrison liked it, Tom declined after two sips, but (Y/N) was having a hard time recovering from the small sip she took, her throat burning like hell.

“Yeah, fuck it!” She cursed. “Oliver, please bring me white wine. I’m done with this strong shit.”

“Weak.” Harrison mocked.

“You can finish it.” She passed it on to him, which he accepted.

“I’m gonna talk to the pretty girl over the bar. Don’t wait up.” Harrison winked and they waved him goodbye.

Tom was strangely quiet after the photoshoot, still thinking about her mother and what she said to him. Also, her proximity with Harrison was getting the best of him. He still hasn’t figured out why he was feeling that way, and it was wrong. (Y/N) noticed he was slightly off and nudged his shoulder before hugging his side. She gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, which made him sincerely smile at the gesture, turning to kiss hers too.

“You’re very quiet. Something wrong?”

“Uhm, no… I’m just moody, I guess.”

“I know what can cheer you up.” She said and pulled his phone from over the table. “Let’s find you a pretty girl.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Shut up, I’m working.” She giggled as she went through his Instagram DMs. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re talking to Valentina Gonzales. We used to have play dates when our parents were close. She’s really pretty.”

“She’s not that into me, I guess.” Tom shrugged, and she chuckled.

“Liar. She even sent you sexy pictures.” She showed him some lingerie photos she sent him, making him laugh.

“Okay. Do your magic.”

She started to go through his DMs, talking to Valentina with her unique way to get people set up. As Tom glanced at her, he could only think that nothing else mattered. What her mother said, her proximity with Harrison, the fact that she’s setting him up with some random girl. The only thing that mattered was her, and she looked perfect under that light - or any light at all- and Tom couldn’t help but smile.

That week he discovered two feelings he had never felt before, not even once in his life. The first was jealousy, and he definitely didn’t enjoy what it felt like, but he couldn’t help it. The second one, well… He was still trying to figure out what it meant, maybe it was adoration or something similar. But one thing was sure, he only felt it when she was with him; like right now, when she leaned over to play with his fingers. Or the previous night when her soft hands held him to sleep. And this morning when she had a whole breakfast prepared for him. He wasn’t sure what it is, but he definitely likes it.

Fuck, what is happening to me?

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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hlupdate · 5 years ago

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Here he comes, one of the planet’s most conspicuous young men, stepping out of the London drizzle and into a dusty suburban pub. If there was an old vinyl record player in the place it would scratch quiet. Instead, the two-dozen punters turn hushed and intent, as if a unicorn has just trotted in off the street, and nobody wants to scare it off. “That’s frickin’ Harry frickin’ Styles,” whispers a young man at the bar, “in this pub.” The pop star is asked what he wants to drink and in a voice already inclined to undertones, quietly orders a cup of tea.

A former teen star who is now 25, a happier and rockier solo artist since his boyband One Direction split a few years ago, Styles has hidden himself inside a large, swamp-green parka. He’s tall, around the 6ft mark, and carries himself with a slight stoop. If Styles could only do something about his appearance from the neck up (elfin brow, wide Joker smile, a face that’s recognisable across multiple continents) you sense he could drink in pubs like this anonymously enough. As it is, cover blown, he removes the parka. A woolly jumper beneath has a picture of the planet Saturn on it. Maybe they’ve heard of Styles there, too.

We take a seat in the corner. On nearby tables, conversations start to sputter as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot while straining to hear what Styles says. I ask him about the sheer strangeness of this and other aspects of fame. Full stadiums, swooning admirers, an excess of opportunity and cash. Why isn’t Styles an absolute ordeal of a human being by now? Keith Richards, at a comparable stage, imagined himself the pirate leader of a travelling nation-state, unbound by international law. Elton John was on vast amounts of cocaine. Meanwhile, here’s Harry, known in the music industry as a bit of a freak, medically, having maintained abnormally high levels of civility in his system.

Styles tilts his head, flattered. There are others, he promises. “People who are successful, and still nice. It’s when you meet the people who are successful and aren’t nice, you think: What’s yer excuse? Cos I’ve met the other sort.”

Styles read Keith Richards’ autobiography a while back, and he recently finished Elton’s, too. (“Soooo much cocaine,” he marvels.) We talk for a bit about whether extreme dissolute behaviour and artistic greatness go hand in hand. Styles, who has just released his second solo album, Fine Line, the penultimate track of which is called Treat People With Kindness, has to hope not. “I just don’t think you need to be a dick to be a good artist. But, then, there are also a lot of good artists who are dicks. So. Hmm. Maybe I need to start scaring babies in supermarkets?”

A couple of lads hustle over to offer drinks. A photo is requested; they say they’ll wait. I’m weirdly anxious about Styles’s phone, which is slung on the table in front of him. What must be the black-market value of that thing? If fans were to get hold of it, would they want to open Styles’s music app first, to listen to tracks from the new album, or rush to see his messages and calls, to find out who Styles has been flirting with late at night? The interest in his music has always run at a ratio of about 50/50 with the interest in who he is dating.

It’s a ratio Styles tries to adjust in favour of the music by being vague about his ex-partners, real and rumoured (Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Parisian model Camille Rowe), diverting to discuss his songs about failed relationships. A year ago, when Styles was floating around near this pub in north London, where he lives, and California, where he tends to record, looking for inspiration for the new album, his close friend Tom Hull told him: “Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up… Let it affect you and write songs about it.”

Styles, who writes in collaboration with Hull and producer Tyler Johnson, sounds as if he took the advice. The new album, Fine Line, is at its best when capturing late-hours moments, drunk calls, “wandering hands”, kitchen snogs. A golden-haired lover recurs. There are up tracks, down tracks, some with the trippy delirium of harpsichord-era Stones, others with the angsty Britpop swell of strings. While I listened, I couldn’t help scribbling down names, possible subjects. On the lyric “There’s a piece of you in how I dress” I wrote: maybe Kendall? In a song about a lover “way too bright for me”: surely Taylor.

Styles says he keeps to a general rule: write what comes and don’t think about it too much afterwards. The only time he worries about an individual lyric is if it risks putting an ex in a difficult position. “If a song’s about someone, is that fine? Or is that gonna get annoying for them, if people try to decipher it?” Has he ever got that judgment call wrong and taken a bollocking from an angry ex? Styles raises an eyebrow. “Maybe ask me in a month.”

I quiz him on something I’ve often wondered about. Why are the very famous so inclined to hook up with the very famous? From the outside it looks twice the hassle, with twice the odds of ending badly. “Don’t we all do that, though?” Styles asks. “Go into things that feel relatively doomed from the start?” I ask him why he doesn’t date normals. He seems tickled: “Um. I mean, I do. I have a private life. You just don’t know about it.”

Styles doesn’t particularly like being asked about his love life, but is amused all the same, as he is about most things. When I ask about the logistics of someone as well known as him dating someone anonymous (“Do you need to give them, like, some sort of primer?”), Styles snorts with laughter.

“Uh-h-h. Like any conversation, I guess, it’s easier if you’re honest. But I try to let it come up when it comes up. Cos that’s a weird thing to talk about, y’know? If you’ve just started seeing someone, and you’re, like: [he adopts a throaty, mission-briefing voice] So! This is what’s gonna happen!” Styles holds out his hands: no, ta. “I don’t wanna have that conversation, man. It would be fucking weird.”

And not very sexy, I say.

“Not sexy,” Styles says, “no.”

A quick aside about his accent, which is hard to capture in print. (“Nat sexy, no.”) After a workout in a hotel gym recently, Styles says he was taken aback (“taken abeck”) to be asked by a stranger whether he was speaking in a fake voice. He was appalled. But after so long crossing borders and time zones, living and working between England and the US, the accent has undergone a jazzy remix, and tends to get farthest from its Cheshire roots when he’s around strangers. Once Styles begins to get comfortable in the pub, the flatter, no-nonsense sounds of his youth return. Nowpe he says, for nope. Fook, for fuck.

“What the fook are they?” This was the response of his childhood pals, he remembers, back in the village of Holmes Chapel, when little Harry had the gumption to show up in the playground wearing Chelsea boots instead of the approved chunky trainers. Styles’s parents had separated when he was very young, but there is no origin-story trauma: he has always stayed close to both. His mother, Anne, would praise his singing voice in the car, and when Styles was 16 it was agreed he could audition for a singing contest on TV.

“The craziest part about the whole X Factor thing,” says Styles, who auditioned for the ITV reality show in 2010, “is that it’s so instant. The day before, you’ve never been on telly. Then suddenly…” Suddenly you’re a piece of national property. “You don’t think at the time, ‘Oh, maybe I should keep some of my personal stuff back for myself.’ Partly because, if you’re a 16-year-old who does that, you look like a jumped-up little shit. Can you imagine? ‘Sorry, actually, I’d rather not comment…’ You don’t know what to be protective of.”

By the winter of 2010, Styles was a fan favourite, a key member of One Direction, a five-piece that enjoyed enormous national exposure and gathered millions of fans before any music had been released. Cameras filmed every part of their rise. There wasn’t any time in the dark to practise, test things out, mentally brace. “We didn’t get to dip in a toe,” Styles says. “But, listen, I was a kid, all I knew was: I didn’t have to go to school any more. I thought it was fucking great.” He remembers having a lot of fun, and being well taken care of. He jokes: “Maybe it’s something I’ll have to deal with a bit later. When I wake up in my 40s and think: Arrrggh.”

In February 2012, One Direction were feted at the Brit Awards, hours before they were due to fly to the US for the first time. On TV that night they looked young, silly, chuffed – on the precipice of something huge, and with no clue at all. Their subsequent wonder-run (five platinum albums, four world tours) had its foundations in their ridiculous popularity in the States. Right away, Styles remembers, “We were fuelling a machine. Keeping the fire going.” He remembers it as a stimulating time; maybe overstimulating. “Coming out of it, when the band stopped, I realised that the thing I’d been missing, because it was all so fast paced, was human connection.”

I first met Styles in 2014, around the time the lack of human connection was starting to bite. One Direction were promoting their penultimate album and I’d been commissioned to write about themthe Guardian. Management felt the boys were so exhausted that my minutes in their presence had to be strictly counted. Inside a circle of cripplingly hot lights, while someone ran the stopwatch, we interacted as humanly as we could.

I remember how jaded the best singer in the group, Zayn Malik, seemed. (Malik was weeks away from quitting.) I also remember how flattered and bewildered the others were to be asked a few grownup questions – and not what Louis Tomlinson would later describe to me as “who’s-your-favourite-superhero… all that shit”. Styles was watchful and quiet that day. By total chance, a week later, we were in the same London cafe and he tapped my shoulder. He was having lunch with friends. “Will ya join us?”

t struck me as a quietly classy move. I was fascinated to see him interact with mates he’d chosen for himself. Styles was dry and funny, older than his years. After lunch we said the usual things about keeping in touch, and followed each other on Twitter. I kept an eye on his updates, about leaving One Direction, releasing an impressive, self-titled debut album in 2017, playing for 36,000 people in Madison Square Garden in New York, acting in Christopher Nolan’s Oscar-nominated war movie Dunkirk. Meanwhile, I did my best to manage the mess that had been made of my own account after Styles’s Twitter follow ignited a small explosion of teenage longing in my mentions. For at least a year I received weekly, sometimes daily, pleas from people who wanted messages conveyed to “H”. Still now, every few days, fans in America, Asia and Europe follow me to “see what H sees” in their timeline.

He has around 50 million social media followers, and with that comes the ability to ripple the internet like somebody airing a bedsheet. I’ve noticed, though, how rarely Styles directs people to support specific causes, last doing so in 2018, when he encouraged people to join a march against gun violence. Why don’t you use your influence more, I ask? “Because of dilution. Because I’d prefer, when I say something, for people to think I mean it.” He runs his fingertips across the table. “To be honest, I’m still searching for that one thing, y’know. Something I can really stand up for, and get behind, and be like: This Is My Life Fight. There’s a power to doing the one thing. You want your whole weight behind it.”

It’s one of the things that sets Styles apart, the way he puts his whole weight behind the different aspects of this strange job. If you watch footage of him as a guest host on Saturday Night Live last month, Styles plunges in, fully inhabiting the silliness of every sketch. He has good songs in his repertoire (2017’s ballad Sign Of The Times stands out), and would probably admit to some middling songs that attest to his relative inexperience as a writer. But whichever of his songs Styles performs, he goes all-in, trusting that his zest and energy will hold an audience’s attention. He approaches this interview in roughly the same spirit, not enjoying every question, fidgeting, pleading for clemency once or twice, but giving everything due consideration.

I bring up something Styles joked about earlier: the possibility of waking up in his 40s with deferred mental health problems.

“Mm,” he says

Have you thought about therapy, I ask, to get ahead of that?

“I go,” he says. “Not every week. But whenever I feel I need it. For a really long time I didn’t try therapy, because I wanted to be the guy who could say: ‘I don’t need it.’ Now I realise I was only getting in my own way.” He shrugs. “It helps.”

Lately he’s been reading a lot (Lisa Taddeo’s Three Women stood out). He’s watched a lot of Netflix (crime thrillers and music docs). He recently cried through Slave Play on Broadway. I sense in Styles, at 25, a pent-up undergraduate hunger, maybe a desire to make up for lost time. “I’ve definitely been wanting to learn stuff, try stuff,” he says. “Things I didn’t grow up around. Things I’d always been a little bit sceptical about. Like therapy, like meditation. All I need to hear is someone saying, ‘Apparently, it’s amazing’, and I’ll try it. When I was in Los Angeles once, I heard about juice cleanses. I thought, yeah, I’ll do a juice cleanse.”

How messy were the results?

“You mean…?” Styles raises an eyebrow, recalling the poos. “They were all right. I was just hungry. And bored.”

One notable feature of Styles’s solo career has been his headlong embrace of unconventional clothing. A 2017-18 tour could have been sponsored by the Dulux colour wheel: mustard tones in Sydney, shocking pink in Dallas. In a more serious sense, some of Styles’s choices have fed into an important political discussion about gendered fashion. In May, as a co-host at the Met Gala in New York, he stepped out in a sheer blouse and a pearl earring. One evening’s work challenged a lot of stubborn preconceptions about who gets to wear what.

He says: “What women wear. What men wear. For me it’s not a question of that. If I see a nice shirt and get told, ‘But it’s for ladies.’ I think: ‘Okaaaay? Doesn’t make me want to wear it less though.’ I think the moment you feel more comfortable with yourself, it all becomes a lot easier.”

What do you mean, I ask?

Styles is leaning forward, hands folded around his cup of tea. “A part of it was having, like, a big moment of self-reflection. And self-acceptance.” He has a habit, when he’s made a definitive statement, of raising his chin and nodding a little, as if to decide whether he still agrees with himself. “I think it’s a very free, and freeing, time. I think people are asking, ‘Why not?’ a lot more. Which excites me. It’s not just clothes where lines have been blurred, it’s going across so many things. I think you can relate it to music, and how genres are blurring…”

Sexuality, too, I say.

“Yep,” says Styles. “Yep.”

There’s a popular perception, I say, that you don’t define as straight. The lyrics to your songs, the clothes you choose to wear, even the sleeve of your new record – all of these things get picked apart for clues that you’re bisexual. Has anyone ever asked you though?

“Um. I guess I haaaaave been asked? But, I dunno. Why?”

You mean, why ask the question?

“Yeah, I think I do mean that. It’s not like I’m sitting on an answer, and protecting it, and holding it back. It’s not a case of: I’m not telling you cos I don’t want to tell you. It’s not: ooh this is mine and it’s not yours.”

What is it then?

“It’s: who cares? Does that make sense? It’s just: who cares?”

I suppose my only question, then, is about the stuff that looks like clue dropping. Because if you don’t want people to care, why hint? Take the album sleeve for Fine Line. With its horizontal pink and blue stripes, a splash of magenta, the design seems to gesture at the trans and bisexual pride flags. Which is great – unless the person behind it happens to be a straight dude, sprinkling LGBTQ crumbs that lead nowhere. Does that make sense?

Styles nods. “Am I sprinkling in nuggets of sexual ambiguity to try and be more interesting? No.” As for the rest, he says, “in terms of how I wanna dress, and what the album sleeve’s gonna be, I tend to make decisions in terms of collaborators I want to work with. I want things to look a certain way. Not because it makes me look gay, or it makes me look straight, or it makes me look bisexual, but because I think it looks cool. And more than that, I dunno, I just think sexuality’s something that’s fun. Honestly? I can’t say I’ve given it any more thought than that.”

In our musty corner of the pub we’ve somehow passed a couple of hours in intense discussion. We’ll lighten up, before Styles heads home, with some chat about clever films (Marriage Story), stupider viral videos (the little boy who’s just learned the word “apparently”), that favourite-superhero stuff that, after all, has its place. He talks about the curious double time scheme of a pop star’s life – those crammed 18-hour days and then the sudden empty off-time when Styles might find himself walking miles across London to buy a book, afterwards congratulating himself: “Well, that’s an hour filled.”

Before we stand up I ask if he’s minded any of my questions.

He pushes out his lips, possibly recalling them one by one, then shakes his head. “What I would say, about the whole being-asked-about-my-sexuality thing – this is a job where you might get asked. And to complain about it, to say you hate it, and still do the job, that’s just silly. You respect that someone’s gonna ask. And you hope that they respect they might not get an answer.”

I tell him I do.

“Cool.”

Styles has to find those lads who wanted a photo. He scoops his phone off the table and flicks his thumb around the screen. Lately, he says, when he messes around on his phone in an idle moment, it’s mostly to look at videos – clips that his friends have sent him, in which their kids sing along to music he’s made. “Never gets old,” Styles says, beaming.

A few years ago, when he emerged from the boyband, blinking, shattered, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Full stadiums, provocative outfits – Styles genuinely loves these things. “But I guess I’ve realised, as well,” he says, “that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Do you know what I mean?” He grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for home.

#harry styles #the guardian #stunt mention #131219

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thelegendofclarke · 5 years ago

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Hi! I love your blog and I’m fascinated about your personality, you seem such a wonderful person! Could you share with us, dear followers, about life lessons you learned in your life? I trust that you have some few good advice. P.S. Your tags are the best, they are gold!

Hey anon!

well first of all i want to apologize to you because it has been approximately TWELVE HUNDRED YEARS since you sent me this ask and i have truly been The Worst™ about answering my asks. and THANK YOU SO MUCH for your kind words, you are so sweet ❤ ❤ ❤

i really wanted to answer this with some variation on “my advice is to never ask me for advice” lol because i have no idea what i’m doing. like seriously, 95% of the time this is a fly by the seat of my pants, fake it til ya make it operation. BUT i made you wait SO LONG and i didn’t want to leave you hanging, so i made you a list of some Random Life Lessons i’ve accumulated during my sad, sorry existence on this earth.

HERE WE GO…

Never assume you are the smartest person in the room.

You are never too old to use Johnson & Johnson baby products, go to Chuck-E-Cheese, enjoy a nice ice cream cake, or eat Lunchables.

You are not bound or beholden to anyone else’s perception of you… Fuck them, they don’t know your life.

Dear dudes: if when you say “boys don’t like when girls…” Our response is ALWAYS going to be “girls don’t gaf.”

Don’t waste any of your time fucking with people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

You see a relationship needs to be mutually beneficial. If you’re both not getting something you want it’s a bad relationship.

The high road is like, the worst road ever and annoying af while you’re one it… but at the end of the day, taking it will probably make you feel better about yourself.

Pickle juice is an EXCELLENT chaser.

Let your instincts and the hair on the back of your neck dictate what you do, NOT politeness.

If someone is constantly accusing you of cheating on them it’s because they are cheating on you constantly.

JELL-O No-Bake Boxed Cheesecake is actually pretty damn good.

Never let anyone make you feel like you owe them anything more than yourself.

Blavy is terrible and does not look good on ANYONE. I don’t care that Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs said it’s ok now… It’s not.

Don’t care about what people say behind your back. Theres a reason why they’re behind you.

Find good friends that you trust that you can be an asshole with in private so you don’t act like an even bigger asshole in public.

Don’t ever let anyone make you feel shitty or belittle you for caring about things; and the same goes for getting excited about things.

Related to the above, don’t ever belittle or go out of your way to make people feel shitty about the things they can and get excited about. It’s truly one of the meanest things you can do.

Whenever you get to a new campus, whether it be uni or grad school or study abroad, ALWAYS walk to where all your classes will be BEFORE the term starts. Seriously, the walking estimated time on the maps thingies are full of shit.

Don’t ever say “i’m sorry you feel that way” to people. Honestly, you sound like a douche. And you’re not sorry.

If you ever get to a point in a relationship where you are seriously considering cheating on your significant other, just break up with them. It’s time.

Learn at least one self defense move… It doesn’t matter if it’s a kick or a punch or whatever. just make sure you know one and make sure you know it really well.

There is a difference between “being a risk taker” and “being a dumbass.” You’ll know it when you see it.

The same goes for things like “being realistic” vs. “being a fucking bummer”… Just kep an eye out ya know?

If you have had a disagreement with someone but you guys talk it out and decide you are going to move on from it, move on from it. If you are still angry, you need to let the other person know that.

Never, NEVER, let your first date with someone be to a wedding.

Same goes for funerals, bar/bat mitzvah’s, quinces, or any other large family gathering. at least go out for coffee first or something.

It doesn’t matter how far away from his mamma he moves, a mamma’s boy will always be a mamma’s boy.

“Brutal honesty” is called that because it usually involves brutalizing someone. so ask yourself, is your brutality really needed or appreciated?

Standing up for yourself shouldn’t involve walking all over someone else or making them feel shitty. Those 2 things should not be mutually exclusive.

Never let a teacher or authority figure make you feel stupid for not being good enough at certain school subjects.

Trust your instincts about the following: boys, friends, people trying to sell you shit, people trying to get you to sign shit.

If for any reason you are in a situation where police are involved, do NOT speak to them without a lawyer, parent, or some kind of other advocate present

It’s ok to wait to get your license until you feel ready to drive

Don’t worry about your weight. It fluctuates as you grow because your insides are growing too. It is natural.

if you notice something about someone’s appearance and they can’t fix it right away, don’t tell them. For example, if you are at a bar with friends, Good: “hey you have lipstick on your teeth.” Bad: “hey that shirt is really unflattering.”

Don’t every tell anyone someone “loves them in their own way.” it’s shitty. don’t say it… there is no wrong way to love someone, but there are things that are not love.

You don’t have to be anyone’s sidekick friend… You are no one’s sidekick.

“Be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods.”

Get rid of stuff you don’t use. Unused and unappreciated things make us feel bad.

Listen to Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” slowed down to 33 rpm, at least once in your life.

If a dude ever tells you in all seriousness that he loves fight club and/or Tyler Durden, run. Run fast, and run far.

If you ever find yourself wondering if you sound or are being condescending, you are.

Know how to cook at least one thing well enough that you can do it from memory. even if its just pasta or chicken or something… there will come a time in your life where you are going to have to unexpectedly feed yourself. don’t be caught unprepared.

Try to avoid doing the following: making promises when you are really excited. responding when you are angry. making decisions when you are sad.

You have to be willing to cut off people who make you unhappy. it’s going to really suck and you are going to feel really guilty. and chances are they are going to get pissed and it will be very unpleasant. but you have to cut off toxic relationships. The only thing toxic that you should still be in contact with is that song Britney Spears made, because that song is lit af.

And going along with that, life is too short to pretend like you don’t love britney spears or taylor swift or whatever pop music makes you happy. seriously, if people are going to give you shit about that, they can kiss your ass.

When you make a to do list add a few things that you have already done or that you can get done in the next hour or so, because it feels really good to cross things off.

Going back to an old relationship is like rewatching a movie and expecting a different ending to happen… spoiler alert: ain’t nothing gonna change

Never mistake kindness for weakness or silence for stupidity.

“One of the biggest lies we’re told is that ‘everything happens for a reason.’ Allow yourself to remember that accidents happen, and not all of them have to shape your life. Try to let go of toxic people and situations that are harming you. Not all lessons are worth learning the hard way. Take care of yourself.”

If someone is complaining to you about something and you are going to give them advice, ask first. say “do you want advice or do you just need to vent?” because unwanted advice when someone is already annoyed is never going to help the situation.

Telling someone to “calm down” has never worked. ever. in all of history… I’ve checked. Repeatedly.

“You all have a little bit of ‘I want to save the world’ in you, that’s why you’re here, in college. I want you to know that it’s okay if you only save one person, and it’s okay if that person is you.”

When you can’t be honest with people, you can’t ever relax with them.

Don’t listen to the people who tell you ‘if you give up, you never wanted it in the first place.’ Sometimes, it’s okay to give up on things.

All relationships have to have mutual effort… If they wanna talk to you, they will. If they wanna be with you, they will. If they wanna make things work, they will. Don’t let things be one sided. It’s not healthy, and it’s not fair to you.

You deserve friends who treat you with love and respect. You deserve friends that listen to you. You deserve friends that try to understand your feelings and respect them. You deserve positive and healthy friendships. Don’t settle for less.

Don’t take yourself too seriously… Sometimes ridiculous, dumb shit is gonna happen to you and you should recognize it for what it is: a really good story you can tell at parties.

It’s really, really important to realize that missing someone or something and wanting it back are two very, very different things.

Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s a bad thing to feel things deeply. A full heart is a strong heart and being soft doesn’t make you weak. Being soft and loving makes you radiant. you deserve all of the love in the world and so many good things.

Everyone (including your family, your coworkers, and your best friend) will talk about you behind your back, and you’ll talk about them too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.

There are some people who will nitpick and dwell over your tiniest faults just to make them feel superior. Leave them be to find satisfaction. Only the insecure think that another’s flaws and shortcomings can become their own merits.

You’re not fake simply because you act differently depending on the person you’re with. Different personalities bring out different aspects of your personality. You’re complex and multidimensional and you contain fucking multitudes man; it’s beautiful.

Whenever you go somewhere new, try to go to at least one restaurant recommended by a local. Seriously, 9 times out of 10 it will be the best meal you have on the whole trip.

Please, for the love of god, just walk your drunk friends to the door. Sooo much can happened between your car and the door.

Learn the difference between something that makes you feel bad, and something that’s wrong. A thing can feel bad and be right, and it can feel good and be wrong… In the end, being able to look at yourself in the mirror will end up being the most important thing.

If you need to stop for any reason in a public place, move off to the side first.

Unless it’s been agreed about before hand, don’t keep score about paying for things. If you offer to pay for something, don’t do it with the expectation that you must be reciprocated later.

Honestly, don’t keep score with anything tbh. Half the time people don’t know they are playing in the first place.

If you wear a kick ass outfit but don’t see anyone the day you wear it, it’s ok to wear it again the next day.

Be aware of the toxic and intoxicating effect of bad moods.

Unless you are the DD or don’t drink, avoid being the least sober person in the room. just, trust me.

Never settle for less than you deserve, if you’re unhappy move on you will find happiness eventually and when you do it will be such a wonderful feeling.

Some people are just naturally good at things, it happens. Don’t measure yourself against those people. That is just asking for a migraine and an inferiority complex.

Try not to use the excuse “because that’s how other people do it”… Sometimes you need to do better than the people that came before you.

It is perfectly reasonable to judge someone based on their politics. Peoples’ politics reflect their opinions on damn near everything.

If you are going to have a casual sexual relationship with someone (aka have a fuck buddy) be real clear about those Terms and Conditions a head of time.

If you can only be clever or funny at the expense of others or their feelings, you aren’t actually clever or funny. You’re just a bully.

People who say “learn to take a joke” or “learn to laugh at yourself” can never take a joke or laugh at themselves. I know this to be true to a fault.

Don’t use words when you don’t know what they mean… I know this sounds stupid, but seriously. You would be shocked. Just don’t do it.

Sex should never be painful (unless there is explicit consent) or make you uncomfortable… There is a HUGE difference between trying something that is outside your sexual comfort zone and doing sexual things that make you feel bad or uncomfortable. And anyone pushing you do to the latter is not someone you need to be in a relationship with, sexually or otherwise.

For the love of god and all that is holy and unholy… BE AWARE OF YOUR FACIAL EXPRESSIONS.

Never give anyone else control over your mental health or mental state.

Try to stay away from people who hit/throw things when they are angry or get really angry when they are drunk.

Don’t approach relationships with people with the goal of like, changing or saving or educating them. That’s not your job.

If someone goes after your looks or your intelligence, it means they have nothing else to say.

If you are going to make people feel shitty for being a virgin OR for having sex, you are an asshole. Bottom line. No exceptions.

If you are gonna fuck around with Ouija boards and shit like that, be ready for what you are getting yourself into.

Pick one day a week where you clean or tidy your personal space. You will feel so much better about life.

Sometimes you are going to have to do things you don’t want to do or go places you don’t want to go because someone you love wants to. If your bff wants to go to a concert for a band you don’t like/have never heard of for their birthday or see a movie you don’t really want to see, just do it. Small things like that can make people so happy. You are doing it because you care, you aren’t forfeiting anything.

Don’t let people take advantage of your or walk all over you or take things out on you… a) they may not even realize they ARE doing it and will KEEP doing, or b) they will know they CAN and they will KEEP doing it.

Not every Hill has to be The Hill You Will Die On… Like, you can just camp out there for a little while. it’s fine.

Try to buy a few extra birthday/special occasion cards and like $5-$10 gifts cards to Starbucks or Target or something like that to have one hand. Because i am telling you rn, there will come a time where you will completely forget someone important’s birthday.

There are going to be people who hate you based solely on what someone else told them about you. Yes it’s shitty. But 9 times out of 10 no, neither of them are worth your effort.

There are also going to be people who hate you for no particular reason and get pissed off about everything you do. don’t try to appease them because it will just make you hate yourself… At some point EVERYONE is someone’s “Bitch Eating Crackers.” You should just keep eating your crackers.

Likewise, if you find yourself getting pissed off or annoyed at everything someone does, don’t interact with them. You are just going to prolong your own pain, suffering, and pissiness.

A lot of the time, headaches can be cured by one of the following: sleep, food, water, tylenol, or loosening your ponytail… Make sure to try al those before you start freaking out about having a brain tumor.

The whole “nothing good happens after 2 am” thing is a myth… If you are out and having fun, stay out. Have fun!

Spite can actually be a really good motivator. seriously, it can make you so productive… just don’t let it make you insufferable.

Ignore 1-star and 5-star reviews of books, hotels and products. The 3-star reviews will answer all your actual questions.

Learn keyboard shortcuts. If you don’t know what CTRL + Z does, your life is definitely harder than it has to be.

If it ever comes down to other people liking you and you liking yourself, always pick yourself. ALWAYS… Being able to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day it highly underrated.

Verbal, emotional, mental and financial abuse are STILL ABUSE… And you don’t have to put up with that shit.

If you are ever about to bitch someone out, take a breath and count to 100 before doing it. It will give you time to either calm down and walk away OR think of really good insults.

Even the nicest people have their limits. Don’t try to reach that point because the nicest people are also the scariest assholes when they’ve had enough… “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

Things that you should try to never start a sentence with: “no offense,” “not to be rude,” “well actually.”

Splurge on cute underwear, good booze, and fancy food every once in a while. it’s totally worth it.

Every occasion can be a dress up, champagne, and fancy china occasion if you believe in yourself.

People who are nice to you but mean to waiters, retail workers, animals, or their mothers are not actually nice people.

It is just as important to be aware of and acknowledge what you don’t know as it is to be aware of and acknowledge what you do know.

If you unironically use the term “friendzone” you deserve to get punched in the face and/or kicked on the ass… Idgasf what the context or situation is, you absolutely deserve it!

Every good relationship should be mutually beneficial and must have mutual trust, mutual respect, and mutual effort… If it doesn’t have one of these, it’s not a good relationship.

There’s gonna come a point in time in your life when you are going to start to feel icky if you go too long with out eating a fruit and/or vegetable… It’s gonna be around the same general time when you should start taking a daily multivitamin.

Your sexuality is what you say it is. Period. And it’s ok if you don’t know exactly what that is right now or if it changes at any time in the future. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise, they can get bent.

You are not required to disclose any kind of personal information about yourself and no one is entitled to that information in order for you and your opinion to be respected… However, if you are going to argue a point or hold yourself out as a representative of a certain minority/class/demographic, there is probably going to come a point in time where you need to back up your arguments with the necessary information. Just be prepared to put your money where your mouth is.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I’m pretty sure you’re still being a dick… Don’t take advantage of peoples’ faith or trust in you. It’s a dick move, just don’t do it.

The same goes for not cheating on your significant others or betraying your friends… Seriously it is SO EASY to not treat people like shit. It takes slim to no effort.

Be aware that when you make blanket statements about groups of people, there are really no such things as exclusionary or exception clauses… Like, you can’t tell someone in that group “but i’m not talking about YOU” because you are. You are talking about them. That’s just, quite literally, how making generalizations works.

STAY IN YOUR LANE! When you have to get over be polite and USE YOUR GODDAMN BLINKER... This applies to sooo many things in life besides just driving.

#there ya go anon!#i hope at least some of this is useful/coherent lol #alys answers #alys anons #advice #anonymous #long post #alys babbles

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diarrheaofthekeyboard · 4 years ago

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#41

9.4.2020 - 9.8.2020

At age 5, sometime in the summer of 1983, I went to my first Mets game. I know they played the Montreal Expos. I’m pretty sure George Bamburger was still the manager. Tom Seaver was on the team. I do not know if he pitched that game. But I know I saw him pitch on tv as a Met that year.

My early childhood from that point forward was consumed with baseball (and cartoons) until about 1989 when the Mets were bad again. They just got worse until I went to college, but I still watched. I couldn’t watch Mets games in college, so I mostly forgot about baseball. I graduated in 2000 and came home to the Mets and Yankees in the Subway Series. And I was back in it.

The Mets predictably lost, and it was the worst because the Yankees were dynastic, but something else happened. After raising me as a Mets fan, my father outed himself as a Yankee fan.

My dad was born in Brooklyn in 1950 and raised in Sheepshead Bay, which is close to Coney Island. Story goes he asked my grandfather to go see the Dodgers and was told “next year”. That was 1957. He never got to see the Dodgers in Brooklyn. They, and the New York Giants, moved to California before the 1958 season. This is pretty fucked up. And though I never asked him while he was alive, it would make no sense for my grandfather to have claimed he didn’t know the Dodgers were leaving. It was the biggest news in Brooklyn.

For 4 years, there was only one New York team. The Yankees. They won the World Series in 1958 and 1961. They lost the World Series in 1960. The Mets first season was 1962 and promptly set the record for most games lost in a season, in the modern era. The Yankees beat the San Francisco Giants in the World Series that year. In 1963 the Yankees lost to the Los Angeles Dodgers, but who could root for the Dodgers after they left Brooklyn? That was traitorous. In ‘64 the Yankees lost the World Series to the St. Louis Cardinals. They were terrible after that.

In 1967, Tom Seaver debuted for the New York Mets. They were still the worst team in baseball. In 1969, led by Seaver, the Mets were champions. My dad, by this time in college, became a fan.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in tracing his sports allegiances, it’s that he’s a bandwagoner. We never watched hockey, but for some reason had 4 copies of an Islanders record from the early 80s. We never really watched football, but he did like to watch the Cowboys. Why wasn’t he a Giants fan? Or a Jets fan? It never really made sense.

The entire reason we went to that game in 1983 was my dad got tickets from work. The owner of the company he worked for had box seats about 10 rows behind the third base dugout. We would go once or twice a year and my dad would complain about traffic. We went to Game 1 of the 1986 World Series. I still have my ticket. It was a big moment for me, having just turned all of 9 years old. It’s still a big moment for me. We sat 6 rows from the back of the stadium and couldn’t see anything. But we were there.

I never had reason to believe my dad was anything other than a Mets fan. And then, there I am, freaking out in 2000 as Benny Agbayani hands the ball to a fan in the stands because he thought there were three outs, and my dad is outing himself further as a Yankee fan with every moment.

I don’t remember when this took place, but I know it happened. I was so angry I was raised a Mets fan. But it went something like this:

Why would you do this to your child? You know how bad they are. You read the paper. You never bothered to tell me the Yankees won the World Series in 1978. I could have gone through life as a carefree Yankee fan, not ever having to know the intricacies of the game, and never beating myself up in the years they weren’t competitive because they’re the fucking Yankees! They always come back.

At that point, I couldn’t give up the Mets. For the damage being invested in their losing had done to me, and for what it would continue to do to me. For 20 years until I left New York, I probably watched 150 games a year, whether on tv or at Shea. I didn’t just double down. It became all consuming. And gut wrenching. Hey! You had a shit day at work! Let’s agonize over this garbage team and argue with the tv announcers every day. As I bounced from apartment to apartment, job to job, there would always be the constant, soothing misery of the Mets.

The 2000 baseball season had been my introduction to Tom Seaver the announcer. Keith Hernandez too. I actually got to see him play. He was the quintessential first baseman. Now I got to listen to them regularly. Along with Ralph Kiner, Gary Thorne, and Howie Rose, they were fantastic. They talked about the game like a coach should talk about the game. Every game, regardless of how bad the team was, became a clinic in “How to Baseball”. I loved it.

In 2006, the Mets got their own broadcasting network and consolidated the announcing team. Ralph Kiner’s health had declined over the years and he would only return on home Sunday games. Fran Healy and Tim McCarver were finally, mercifully gone. Seaver left too. He had gone into winemaking in ‘05 and wanted to pursue it full time. Taking over play-by-play was radio announcer Gary Cohen. He had been Bob Murphy’s understudy and was a familiar pick. Keith Hernandez stayed and fellow 80s Met Ron Darling was added as well. They’re still in the booth today, and they’re fantastic.

Seaver would show up from time to time. There was never a down, dull moment with him. You’d get an adrenaline rush just listening to him.

I’m going to say something controversial. I hated Shea Stadium. It was a nasty, ugly place. But there’s one thing about it that CitiField just can’t replace. The entire stadium was built from concrete blocks and it was very closed in. Each entrance to the seating area from the concourse was like its own little tunnel into another world. You come out of the darkness and into the light of the greenest field you’ve ever seen. I got goosebumps and would nearly be on the verge of tears, every time I walked through, from that first game in 1983, until they tore the place down at the end of the 2008 season.

I did make sure to be there at the last game. It was terrible. The Mets needed to beat the Marlins to get into the Wild Card and it didn’t happen. Then we waited seemingly forever for the post-game ceremony to begin, absolutely fuming that we had been duped by this shit team again. Finally, things got started. Mets greats were announced. And Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza closed the centerfield gate together, formally closing the book on Shea. It was a good moment even though the season ended terribly.

We moved to California two years ago. This was my opportunity to finally get rid of the Mets. I was determined to do it. I started watching A’s and Giants games. I even started watching Dodger games. At the start of the season, I was set to ride the A’s and Dodgers all the way to a California World Series. Then COVID hit. The season was cancelled. I lost my job. School was cancelled. Bad news increased exponentially. And when the baseball season finally started in July, my wife said she wanted to watch the Mets. She wasn’t going to give me a choice either.

We met in 2006. She had moved to NYC the previous year and kinda bandwagoned her way into Yankee fandom. Because why not. She was really a football fan anyway. One of her previous boyfriends was apparently a huge Cubs fan. She says every time they lost he’d be upset for days. Which, historically, is a tough place to be as a Cubs fan. As we dated and got closer she saw just how many games I would watch on a yearly basis. It’s a lot.

She got used to me pacing around, guitar in hand, yelling at the TV. She studied for the bar exam through this. One time, I forget what was going on, she’s reading flashcards and I had taken issue with something Gary Cohen said. And I hear quietly, “don’t argue with Gary!” I can still hear the inflection in her voice in my head. I turned around and started telling her why I disagreed with him and her only response was “did I say that out loud?” Gary, Keith, and Ron were hugely important to not only her tolerance of my baseball tv domination, but also her appreciation of the game. She only knew Ralph Kiner as this cute old man. And every so often, Seaver would come back and she’d see me well up with visceral feelings.

I cried when Ralph Kiner died. Around 2014/2015 I wrote a blog titled “The Common Sense Mets Fan”. At the time, I was convinced the Sandy Alderson administration would right the team and keep the Wilpons at bay. I was wrong. Anyway, here’s what I wrote:

On the last day of the season, as usual, Gary Cohen said goodbye to Ralph Kiner. But there was something different about it this time. There was fear in Gary’s face, as though he knew this was his last opportunity to sign off with Ralph. I had seen hints of it in years past, but never like this. Sadly, Ralph passed today, I hope peacefully.

As a Mets fan, this is like losing a grandfather or great uncle. Ralph had always been there. From his stories about Elizabeth Taylor to his willingness to argue advanced metrics and hitting style with Keith Hernandez, he was ever present in the Mets broadcast booth. I’ll never be able to hear the game again the same way. Thank you, Ralph.

At the time, I said to my wife, “the next time I cry about the Mets, it’ll be when Tom Seaver dies.” This was before their 2015 run. Before the Wilmer Flores incident. Before I was sitting on my couch with a 1 year old, watching them in a World Series, as I did my best impression of Randy Quaid from Major League. I refused to allow myself to enjoy the success of the team because I knew they would lose. It was just a matter of when. And of course, they did lose to the Kansas City Royals. But they got a lot further than I thought they would.

When MLB decided to move forward with a truncated 2020 season, I was reluctant to watch. It’s not safe for anyone involved and seems to be all about corporate greed. But of course, like moths to a flame, we watched. And as I mentioned, my wife said, “we’re watching the Mets.” I didn’t want to. But she was right. In a year like we’ve never seen before, Gary Cohen, Ron Darling, and Keith Hernandez did something, and are doing something, nobody else is. They gave us levity and calm. Led by Gary, they are unafraid to address the news of the day while knowing the escape they provide. The BLM t-shirt moment was unparalleled. And unfortunately, they’d have another day to provide calm the next week.

As you well know by now, George Thomas Seaver died last week. He had contracted lyme disease years ago, while working in the vineyards. For some people, lyme goes undiagnosed for years while doctors treat the symptoms without putting it all together. This seems to have been what happened to Tom. It progressed with complications and he developed Lewy Body dementia. His family announced his retirement from public life and the Mets announced they would erect a statue to him outside of CitiField. They changed the address of the stadium to 41 Seaver Way. But in true Wilpon Mets fashion, still no statue.

Finally, last week, Tom died due to complications from COVID. I was sitting on the couch, watching some random baseball game and reading Twitter. I saw the Baseball Hall of Fame announcement on Twitter, exclaimed “oh no!”, and went upstairs to be alone for a minute. My wife was on the phone. She ran upstairs to see me sitting with my head in my hands and asked what happened. I told her and then told her how stupid I felt for letting this get to me. And she said, “yeah, but you said after Ralph died this would happen”.

Our son came upstairs to see what he was missing. I told him. He said “who’s that?” And we had a long talk I think bored him. And it’s then it hit me what had happened. As I’ve detailed in the past 4 pages of text, Tom Seaver meant a lot to me, even though in my experience as a Mets fan, he was really just a peripheral character. I saw him on the field a couple of times. He was talked about. He was an announcer for a few years, and he’s mostly been out of the spotlight for the past 15 years. Here I was, having a visceral, uncontrollable reaction to a childhood figure I never met. How the fuck were people who actually knew him going to keep it together?

They couldn’t do it. Gary and Ron did their best. Apparently, Keith’s mom also had dementia, and he lost it. There was a lot of silence during the game. A lot of big sighs from Keith. A lot of on air hurting. It was gut wrenching. I saw an Ed Kranepool quote that said, “this was a terrible ending to a horseshit year.” And it’s only September!

At this point, nearly a week later, it’s difficult to remember where I saw it. But here it is. The reason I’ve spent all this time spilling my guts about a guy I never met. Tom Seaver was a beacon. He wasn’t just someone who had a talent and pursued it. He was constantly trying to reinvent himself and pursue that passion, whether he was good at it or not. But even moreso, he was a positive influence on everyone around him. I’ve never heard a story about Seaver fighting with anyone. He wanted to be Rembrandt with a baseball. And he wanted to lift people up around him.

I feel isolated and alone. There’s not much I feel like I can control. I can get out my thoughts, I can be a good husband and a good father. I can explore my music. And I can use the latter to pull myself out of the former. That’s what Tom would tell me to do.

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wolfpawn · 5 years ago

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I Hate you, I Love You Chapter 5

Chapter Summary - Danielle helps Benedict with Christopher while the pair talk.Tom goes into his mothers and is brought to a realisation that the world is not, contrary to recent belief, all about him.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

I think it goes without saying that I am taking some serious artistic licence with Tom here. I would hope he is more copped on than this......actually, considering the last few months, I think it may be somewhat true, hopefully, he isn't so naive, he is, after all, a (then) 35-year-old man, but let's face it, this makes the story more dramatic.

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer

“How are you feeling?” Ben asked. He had met Danielle a few times through Tom and his family, she was incredibly normal, which was refreshing when you’re surrounded by actors and Hollywood. “I heard you yell at Tom about your night.”

“I just…Today is not the day for unimportant bull…” She caught herself before she swore. “Sorry.”

“I keep getting caught myself.” Ben dismissed changing the nappy. “Can I be so rude as to ask to heat some food for him too?”

“Sure, get him sorted and then we’ll organise that then.” She smiled. “It is nine in the morning, did you drive from London?”

“Someone, and I am not pointing fingers,” He pointed to his son. “Is getting up early, and Sophie is in Scotland, so I didn’t know what to do, I thought I would visit Tom, but well…”

“That blew up in your face.”

“That’s the polite way of putting it. This is so…not Tom.”

“Tell me about it, Diana is completely at a loss, so are Emma and Sarah, and for some reason, because he does not want to confront whatever or whoever is eating at him, I am Public Enemy Number One. Does he eat porridge?” She indicated to Christopher.

“Yes, but there’s no need to go to the trouble.”

“I usually have a bowl before I go to bed anyway,” she shrugged. “It’s only a little extra scoop; unless you want some yourself.”

“I am fine, thank you. Strong coffee is good. So you are…”

“I will be fine, I will go to bed for a while, then head to work early and get an assessment and an obligatory counselling session then be back to work.”

“That…Jesus, that’s rough.”

“You get used to it, in some ways, if that makes any bit of sense.”

“Do you not ever get nightmares?”

“Most weeks that something terrible happens, yeah.”

“Jesus.”

“I should have just gone to acting college.”

“Could you have afforded it?” There was a clear hint in Benedict’s voice that he was being sarcastic, clearly having heard everything Tom had said.

“Any other day, I’d have kneed him in the nuts for that, but today, I just can’t care, besides, it is clear, he is not the guy he was.” She sighed.

“Is that…?” Benedict pointed out the window.

“Mac, get down.” Elle didn’t even have to look, she knew it was the dog. “He’s the dog Tom found, yeah.”

“He looks good.”

“A bit scraggily, but yeah, he is doing well now.” She smiled.

“I am sorry.”

“What for?”

“Tom.”

“No one can apologise for him but himself. I only hope he sees sense, and when he does, that everyone is still here for him, because I think I am officially at the very precipice of telling him to go take a running jump off the nearest cliff.”

“No one would blame you. Thank you.” He took the fresh porridge and coffee from her and blew on it.

Half an hour, and a fed waddler later, Benedict thanked her, and left her home, tying Christopher into his car seat, before looking at Diana Hiddleston’s house and sighing.

“What was that ruckus outside Tom?” Diana asked, still in her nightgown.

“Benedict has gone into Danielle’s.” He stated angrily.

“I am not sure I follow.”

“He came here, supposedly to see me, but instead went into hers, and is in there now.”

“And why is that?” Diana looked at her son, she knew when he was at fault for something as a child, he would just give the start and end of a story, but nothing of what occurred in the intervening period.

“I was talking with Elle, and she went off on me, and he took her side.”

“Thomas,” Diana warned.

“I was tired and angry, and I may have said something, and she…”

“Gave you the truth?” Diana interjected. “You are my son Thomas, and I will always love you, but you need to get yourself in check, you are going to allow everything you worked for go down the toilet, and for what? When you were dating Susannah, you broke it off because you knew you would be too busy and did not want to drag her along, and now, you are going too far the other way, dropping it all for a woman, one who is not ready to settle down, and at twenty-six, that is fine, she is young, but you are putting it all on this one horse Thomas, and I am not sure the horse will even run the race.” Tom frowned. “Elle has a difficult job, and she wants her life outside it to be as smooth as possible, please do not make that any harder on her.”

Tom said no more, he knew once his mother found out the difficult night Danielle had, she would murder him for adding to her misery. “I need to get showered.” Diana nodded and went into the kitchen, turning on the radio.

“There was a road traffic accident in the early hours of this morning in Suffolk, a woman, and her two children were travelling back from a trip to Legoland when a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, killing the occupiers of the car. The woman, named as thirty-four-year-old Carol Johnson originally from Brighton, residing in Suffolk, was recently widowed and had taken her children, eight year old Jeffery and five year old Jessica to the famous theme park following the death of her husband in a workplace accident in the North Sea on an oil rig earlier this summer, Jessica was said to be excited to start school next week, having bought her school supplies while in London with her mother. Police and paramedics at the scene said it was a devastating reminder of the dangers of driving while tired, and urge drivers to pull in and sleep if they feel themselves dozing off at the wheel.”

Tom sat on the steps of the stairs, listening to what Danielle had dealt with at work, feeling guilt riddle him once more. Diana came into the hallway, her face pale at what she had heard. “You don’t think…”

“She mentioned it, yes.”

“She was there?” Tom nodded. “And you were…”

“I didn’t know.”

“I think it best you leave her alone from now on Thomas,” Diana stated coldly.

Tom went upstairs without another word as Diana left the house to check on her neighbour.

For the rest of the time he was in Suffolk, Tom did as his mother suggested, and left Danielle alone. He was opening the window of the bathroom to leave out steam after a shower, and saw her in her back garden, a cup of coffee and a slice of apple crumble on the table, on a recliner garden chair, with Mac Tíre curled up on top of her. The dog, though small for a Sheppard, took up most of her torso, as she curled her arms around him, the dog clearly sensing her distress. He felt terrible for her, and was about to go apologise to her when his phone went off, looking at the screen, he noticed it was Taylor and clicked accept; since she was supposed to be in LA and that meant she was ringing him at five am there. “Hey.”

“I have the best night.” She half sang at him.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I sang with Nelly at Mike’s birthday.”

“What?”

“Mike Heis, the oil heir, I sang at his birthday, here in the Hamptons.” She repeated excitedly.

“The Hamptons, isn’t that on the East Coast?” Tom frowned.

“Eh, yeah, here in Long Island.”

“I thought you were in LA, that’s what you said yesterday?”

“OMG, I decided not to go, a party is so much more fun, especially for Mike, he is super rich and sweet, so I said, how could I say no, right? I mean he is practically squad approved awesome, by the way, I kissed him, so don’t be surprised to see a photo.”

“What?”

“Oh there’s nothing behind it, totally platonic, it’s on the cheek, so you’ll get over it.”

“That’s sort of, inappropriate, though, isn’t it? I mean if there are pictures.” Tom broached.

“It was a friendly one, and besides, I am not changing myself for anyone, and it keeps the cameras where they need to be. I’m tired, so I am going to bed, you’re here again tomorrow, right?”

“I need to go straight to Australia, there is one scene that went a bit awry, so I am to go there and then I am free for a week, yeah.”

“Tell them you are busy til Thursday.”

“That’s not how it goes with Marvel movies Taylor, they are in charge, not me.”

“I told my parents you are going to be here, so be here Tom.” She demanded petulantly.

“I cannot be there until I do the scene, they’ve paid the flights, I have to go.”

“Fine, but I am coming too.”

“Great.” His tone did not match the word.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Jetlag, and a small argument with my mum’s neighbour I have to sort.”

“That woman?”

“Danielle, yes.”

“She is such a bitch, Johnny, my bodyguard, told me she was trying to sneak into your mums when I was there with you, as though she owned the place, and had like a camera phone in her hand, you are better off away from her, I bet she has a hoard of things on you, waiting for the highest bidder, you should have a high fence and an NDA put on her ass. I mean, what is she paying for that house with?”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “I never asked.”

“Maybe you should, your family has money, and she is some nurse or something, and she can live next door to your mum, and only did so after you got famous.” Taylor planted a seed in his mind; he looked down, looking at the woman that had been close to his family for so long. “I mean, it’s so cliché, use the family to get to your celebrity crush.”

“Crush?”

“Yeah, she is totally in love with you, why do you think she is always running around to your mothers, dying to see you no doubt, I mean, I bet she accidentally walked in while you were there, pretending not to know you were home.” Tom thought of the first day, and her arriving home just after him from work. “I’m right, you know it. I am used to it all, I have been in this game long enough, she is practically a stalker.”

“Tom, are you there?” a voice called from outside the bathroom.

“I better go; mum is calling.”

“What time are you into JFK tomorrow?”

“Actually, it’s to Florida.”

“What, no that’s unacceptable, change it.”

“I am afraid not everyone has private jets, love.” Tom chuckled.

“You should, fine, I will send mine to get you.”

“The next flight is from there to Hawaii and then a connection to Brisbane.”

“God, that’s a joke.” She commented.

“Get some sleep love, I will see you soon.”

“You better.” She signed off, hanging up before he could say anymore.

“Tom?” He heard his mother call from outside his room in the hallway.

“Yeah,” Tom looked at the phone. “I’m here.”

“I am going to Emma’s for a few days with Danielle, what time is your flight?”

“What?” Tom demanded, opening the bathroom door.

“Emma’s, Elle and I are going there for a few days.” Diana jumped slightly when Tom opened the door.

“Why?”

“Because Elle took that crash badly, she is not sleeping at all, apparently those children, they are keeping her awake,” Diana stated sadly. “She’s been giving compassionate leave for a week, she needs a break.”

“So she is on the verge of a breakdown, that is what you are saying, that she is nuts.”

“Thomas!”

“What, that is what you are saying, is she even safe to be around?”

“How could you say such a thing, you heard the news report, and saw the photo’s in the paper, you can see her, trying to get into the car. How she hasn’t had one is a miracle. Don’t you dare speak badly of her for it.” Diana snapped.

“She is too close to the family, you need to step back from her. How do we even know her family are dead?”

“Thomas! What has gotten into you?”

“Taylor was saying…”

“I should have known.” Diana walked off. “That girl has cost you a lot of late Thomas, I have to wonder how much you will lose before you wisen up. She is off snuggling up to billionaires sons and kissing them all too closely and you are here losing everything for her.”

“She told me about that, it was platonic.” He called down the stairs.

“And yet when I met that Australian girl from The Night Manager, she said she tried to ring you about your Emmy, she was met with an automated answer, as has Elle, and I bet others too. You cannot be friends with women, but she can snuggle men, trust has to go both ways in a relationship Thomas.” She stated back to him, opening the front door. “Ready sweetheart.” He heard her call. “Tom’s car is in my way, put Mac in and we’ll take yours.”

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 5 #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston

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theinvisible-rogertaylor · 6 years ago

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After All These Years...

Requested by the lovely, @rockyroadthepastryarchy: I was wondering if I could request a present!roger fic? he and the reader have been married for forever, and are very sarcastic and bantery with each other but are very in love. She also visits the borhap set all the time, and the cast/crew adores her and see her as a second mom (especially ben) and she’s super heckin protective of them? Thanks babe and best wishes💕

I loved this request, it’s not exactly what you asked for but, nonetheless I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Warnings: kind of an AU Roger?

———————

YN and Roger had been together going on 41 years. After meeting in 1978 during Queen’s ‘Jazz’ tour, the two had fallen madly in love... despite being over 10 years apart in age. YN was only 19 when they got together, but to them age was always just a number.

In 1980 the couple welcomed their first child, a boy. Lennon Brian Taylor. That was also the year Roger’s infidelity made the tabloids. YN wasn’t sure if it was the first time he had strayed during their relationship, but she hoped it would be the last. Even if was the last time, she despised him for cheating on her, but she couldn’t leave. Their newborn son needed his father, and despite being a cheating husband he was anything but a bad father. So she stayed.

Roger was sure he was dreaming when he came home to find YN asleep in their bed and their baby son asleep in the bassinet beside her. He was sure she would be halfway across the country after news of his affair made the papers. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why she stayed, but he was glad she did. So, to be certain his wife and baby weren’t figments of his jet lagged imagination, he climbed in bed behind his wife and nuzzles his face in her neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He cried, his salty tears dripping down his cheeks and into YN’s hair.

YN didn’t answer him that day, she didn’t break things or yell as Roger had expected her do do. He even asked her to, because any kind of emotion— even bad or angry ones were better than none. Even Freddie and John told her that the silent treatment was destroying Roger. He was showing up to recording sessions drunk, crying over the photographs he kept if YN and the baby in his wallet every time they went out to a pub.

But YN held her ground and she didn’t speak to him for nearly two weeks after the incident became public. One day she lost it. He kept repeating himself, over and over again.

“I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me. It meant nothing it will never happen again.”

“Oh, really Roger? That’s all you have to say for yourself is ‘I’m sorry’?? Tell me this, are you truly sorry it happened or are you only sorry you got caught? The only reason I haven’t left yet is because of this precious boy right here. And because we made a vow, Roger! For better or worse, and this, I hope is the worst our marriage will be.” She spat, attempting to whisper-yell so not to disturb the baby nursing from her.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat next to his wife in their bed and stroked the baby’s cheek.

“No, YN. I love you and only you. I made a mistake. I know that’s no excuse but I was drunk and missing you, but I’ll never stray again. I promise you, my love.”

She still made him sleep on the couch for nearly an entire month after they had spoken about it. She knew staying silent and distant would hurt him the most, because despite what he had done, she knew deep down she was his everything. She just wanted to hurt him as badly as he hurt her, without doing exactly as he had done. She would never, ever be unfaithful to the man she loves.

After that month of torture, they never spoke of the news or the woman again. From the day she forgave him he vowed never to be unfaithful or do anything to jeopardize their relationship again. Lennon and YN were all that mattered to him and he did everything in his power to show them and tell them that every day, cards, love letters, flowers and even notes in their children’s school lunches.

Not once in the next 40 years was Roger Taylor ever in the paper for anything that wasn’t good news. In fact, if anything Roger’s one time indiscretion brought them closer than ever. Sure, they bickered about little things and everyday issues like who’s turn it was to change diapers or walk the dog, but never again did they doubt their feelings for one another nor did Roger find comfort in anyone but his wife. She was and still is his everything. His Queen, his love, his soulmate. The only one who really understands him.

In late 1997, Roger and YN welcomed their second and third children, their miracle twins. After a miscarriage and a still birth, Roger and YN never thought they’d be blessed with another life, let alone two. Farrah May Taylor and Deacon Roger Taylor. Named for the two friends that kept them together all those years ago, their angel himself (Freddie ~Farrokh~) and (John ~Deacon~).

—present—

“Roger Meddows Taylor, if I have to tell you to get out of bed one more time, you won’t be sleeping in said bed this evening.” YN Taylor said to her husband as she placed a cup of coffee on his bedside table and kissed his cheek in morning greeting.

“Oh, my love. Must you be so dramatic? We’ve slept in the same bed every night for nearly 40 years. I doubt that will change now.” He groaned, but smiled, ridding his eyes of sleep and taking a slip of his black, yet lightly sweetened coffee before kissing his wife good morning.

“Benjamin will be here any moment to pick up Farrah for brunch.” YN smiled.

“What?! He’s taking her to brunch?” Roger gasped, nearly spitting out his coffee at the idea of his daughter dating his movie counter part.

“Speaking of dramatics, my dear. They’ve been dating nearly 4 months. Don’t act surprised that he’s taking her to breakfast.” His wife scoffed, walking into the kitchen.

Roger all but jumped out of bed and slid on his slippers and robe before joining his wife at the breakfast table.

“Should I tell her she’s too young to date? Remember when she was 4, I picked her up from nursery school and she told me she had a boyfriend? All I had to do was buy her ice cream and that boy was forgotten as fast as yesterday’s news. Think it’ll still work?”

“Darling, she’s 21, the same age I was when I gave birth to Lennon. Now, eat your eggs before they go cold.” YN patronized for taking his hand across the table and kissing the rosary tattoo up his hand

“But, but— she’s my baby!” He stuttered, in a whiny voice putting on a fake pout. “And besides, he’s 28!”

“My love, may I remind you that you were 30 when we began dating and I was only 19. Even younger than she is now, and he is younger than you were. We should be the last to speak about age gaps.” YN Taylor could always talk sense into her husband, no matter his feelings on the issue.

Just then their daughter emerged from her bedroom with a bright smile on her face and greeted her parents good morning.

“Morning daddy, morning mum.” Farrah smiled as she kissed her father on the cheek before doing the same to her mother and walking out the door.

“I should have never suggested him for the part and this never would have happened.” Roger huffed, setting down his coffee and pushing aside his eggs and bacon.

—2016 flashback—

One day in 2016 while the couple as washing dishes after dinner, Roger stood behind his wife with his hands around her waist and peppered her cheeks with kisses.

“Rog, stop! I’m trying to clean up. I love you, but grab a dish cloth and dry something will ya? Make those hands of yours useful.” YN giggled.

“Oh baby, if I recall, you thought they were plenty useful last night.” He smirked, doing as his wife asked and pulling the dish towel from her shoulder.

That night as they laid in bed, he brought up the idea of the BoRhap movie to his love, and the boy he had in mind to play his younger self, Mr. Ben Hardy. Her response?

“Really baby? You’re ego isn’t big enough? You need to be immortalized on television?” She giggled, looking at some of Ben’s headshots.

“Besides, this young boy has abs. You have never had abs my love.” She said, turning to her side to look properly at her husband and rub his tummy, that had become quite obviously bigger in the last 40 years.

“Shove off.” He chuckled before kissing his wife good night and turning off the bedside lamp.

—— present again ——

Roger was ripped from his thoughts when his wife came over and sat on his knee in the dining chair and picked at his bacon.

“Oi, woman! That’s my bacon.” Roger quipped, pinching his wife’s behind as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Hey! I had your children, mister. Plus, I made this bacon. Bacon for babies is a good trade, don’t ya think?” YN smiled and Roger just laughed, giving a quiet “touché” as his love clambered off of his lap before beckoning for her youngest son to wake up.

———

That evening the Taylor gang decided to invite the BoRhap cast (boys, Lucy and Tom Hollander (Jim Beach)) as well as Bri and Deaky over for dinner.

Jokes were told, stories were shared and even embarrassing home videos of the Taylor children were shown.

“Gee, thanks dad. Ben’s going to dump me now!” Farrah joked as her father played a video of her at 7 years old dressed up as Freddie Mercury’s Live Aid mini-me for Halloween complete with the moustache.

Ben just laughed and pulled her closer into his lap as they sat next to YN and Roger on the sofa.

“I don’t know, babe. I think I see why you dig me in my Rogerina get up now.” Ben winked.

“Oi! Don’t corrupt my baby, mister Hardy.” Roger lamely scolded as his wife smacked his chest playfully before kissing him sweetly and a little too long and passionately.

“Ok mum, your children are present.” Deacon murmured, trying to put an end to his parents make out session. Though, after everything they’d been through, their children were secretly ecstatic that their parents were still so in love after 40 years together.

As the gathering came to an end, and the cast aside from the real Brian and Deaky had left, the oldest Taylor child and his wife decided to make an announcement.

“Mum, dad, Julia and I are having a baby!” Lennon blurted. Farrah and Deacon were the first to congratulate their brother, while YN looked at her husband with tears of joy in her eyes. Still sitting in his lap on the sofa, she leaned into her husband’s lips and whispered,

“It’s a good life, Roger Taylor.”

#roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor one shot #roger taylor blurb #present! roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ben hardy! roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy imagine #request

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