Y/N likes to think everything had gone back to normal after that
dreadful morning. Harry hasn’t touched the subject, and he seems to be doing
fine. She likes to think everything is okay, maybe he was just having an
unpleasant day and there’s no point at even asking about it and upsetting him
all over again. But she can’t erase the image of his body racking with sobs,
eyes pleading and repentant.
She wants to be able to get past it, but her mind keeps going
back to how she’d cried silently while he was in the shower. How every minute
that passed, sat alone on his couch, all she could think about was that there
was a possibility that when Harry came out, he would tell her that he couldn’t
anymore. He’d break her heart with words of ‘still wanna be your friend. We can still be best friends, like we
were b'fo’.’ But it wouldn’t be like before.
She wants her mind to forget his gasps of ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ But
it’s like they’re forever etched into her brain. And every time she looks at
his sleeping body next to her in the morning, it’s all she hears, those words.
So no, everything is back to normal in terms of appearances, but
she’s been having an inner battle with herself that hasn’t let her sleep at
It’s been about two months or so since Harry’s breakdown.
They’ve kept to their daily routine; breakfast, work, the occasional surprise
lunches, and dinner among other things; but they don’t talk about it. And it’s
like when she tries, Harry diverts the conversation to how thrilled he is to
start Dunkirk promo, and of course Y/N can’t press the subject when Harry’s got
a wide smile on his face, happy to recount and retell moments on set.
And though she still couldn’t forget about it, she’d enjoyed breaking
routine, especially for the beautiful scenery that was a wedding in Hawaii.
Harry had been a ray of sunshine. He had introduced Y/N to the few amounts of
people that hadn’t met her yet. Some of them were interested enough to ask how
Harry, a lad who didn’t often engage in proper relationships, had managed to
pull such a beautiful lass. Y/N admits she’d gone a light shade of red at the
comment, never one to confidently accept compliments, and Harry just wouldn’t
shut up about her after that. Not until Y/N playfully slapped his arm after
he’d brought up how she’d made him think she was going out with some other
bloke, blatantly lying to him to his face.
He’d played about with a sweet little girl who’d taken a liking
to him, boop'ing her nose and faking having tripped over something when she
was chasing him, letting her tag him only for her to end up trapped in his
arms. And she loved seeing him so content.
She loved the short stories everyone had to tell about a too
drunk Harry who cuddled anyone from a friend, to a plant
he thought was a friend.
She can’t deny that she’d loved that he was showing her off too.
Especially when his friends would make a comment about how whipped he was,
which only made him smile wider as he kissed her hand (and she’d squirmed and
giggled because his stubble did tickle some).
It’s safe to say that by the end of that trip, everyone and
anyone who’d watched Harry mindlessly kiss Y/N’s temple, arm slung around her
shoulder whilst talking with his friends, were convinced they were it for each
She had never really attended a wedding with him before either.
And she realised that there was something about getting to see him in that
setting that had her wanting exactly that for them one day.
So one can only imagine Y/N’s excitement when Pixie’s invitation
arrived. She’d jumped at the idea of going to Spain, and being Y/N, Harry
couldn’t deny her that.
And now here they are. Watching the sun set over beautiful
waters; rays of orange and yellow and blue adorning the sky.
It doesn’t take much to convince Harry for a picture. All she
really had to is smile at him and he was putty in her hands.
“Wanna look sexy."
"Harry! Just, show me those pearly whites."
"Jus’ take the picture, love.” He’s adamant.
“Harry.” Her tone monotonous, a hand at her hip like
it as she glared at him, a smile playing at her lips.
“Wanna look cool, babe.” He chuckles.
She rolls her eyes, huffing jokingly and holding the phone up
And though he’s not exactly smiling, Y/N can’t think of a better
way it could’ve come out.
Today is nothing short of a fairy tale for Y/N. Her arms around
Harry’s necks. And Harry’s hands on her waist, swaying to none other than
“Song Bird.” He takes to whispering the lyrics to her ear, and he can
feel Y/N’s smile widen when she buries her head in his neck.
Harry likes to think he’s a good dancer, even though he tries to
abstain from any. But with Y/N, it’s different. He’d only halfheartedly tugged
his hand back from hers when she’d tried to pull him up and off his seat, smile
much too sweet to actually deny her of a slow dance. And although usually he
has to have some amount of alcohol in his system to confidently show any of his
moves off on the dance floor, Y/N has him spinning her around gracefully.
When the song nears the end, Harry gives her waist a squeeze
before pulling away and taking her face in his hands, firmly pressing his lips
to hers in hopes he could convey and express every ounce of love he was for her
in that small gesture.
“Ye’ look beautiful, pet,” he whispers, lips grazing
hers, pouting just the slightest for them to meet in a chaste kiss,
“always look beautiful.”
“You’re too much,” she giggles, fingers wrapped around
Harry can only press another kiss to her mouth, too drunk on
love to care about anyone watching.
Harry and Y/N are sat back at their table now. He’d groped at
her hip and plopped her on his lap after the ninth song when Y/N began to
complain about her feet hurting from walking around all day in heels. He’d
moved her hair to fall over her shoulder and kissed across her back and at the
exposed flesh of her neck. They stay like that for a while until he pats the
side of her thigh, at which point she moves to her own seat. Silently, he
gestures for her to lift her legs, and then grabs her ankles and brings her
feet to lay on top of his lap. One by one he unstraps and slips off her heals
and proceeds to dig his thumbs into the dip of her foot, alternating between
the two. And Y/N can’t help but look at how her boyfriend’s brows furrow in
concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips as
he works to ease the tension in the muscles. She hums at the touch, Harry
smiling in accomplishment, and squeals when he starts tickling.
“Went from a whipped friend to a whipped boyfriend! S'a
step up Harold!” Grimmy pats his friend’s back, a lopsided smirk with a
clear intent to insult plastered in his face.
And it’s certainly not helping that he’s helping her strap her
heels back on. But again, he doesn’t mind being whipped.
It wasn’t the first time tonite that he’d made the remark either.
He’d made it a game actually. The first was while they were conversing with
Lou. Grimmy had cheekily strolled past them with a smirk and whisper of ‘whipped’. The second, Y/N was at the
fruit bar helping herself to a plate, and Harry kept feeding bits into her mouth
as she went about picking what she wanted. He’d offered to take her plate back
to the table while she reached for the cutlery, and though Grimmy might have
not meant for her to hear it, she still caught the faint ‘whipped’ directed at Harry. The third had been the most embarrassing,
at least for her. They had been chatting to an elderly couple, the husband
retelling of a vacation he’d surprised his wife with only to find out that
cruises weren’t her cup of tea when she wouldn’t come out of their suite
bathroom because even though it was smooth sailing, her tummy just couldn’t
handle it. At one point Harry had perfunctorily brought up their intertwined
hands and pecked at Y/N’s knuckles. Grimmy had, yet again, silently walked up
behind them and sing-songed ‘whi-hipped’,
at which point Y/N swung her arm around, overestimating her aim, and socked him
where she thought would have been his shoulder but was really his neck. Harry
had doubled over in laughter at that. Even the wife whose eyes had gone wide
couldn’t hold back. After that, Grimmy didn’t bother him any, only playfully
shot her a glare when their eyes met.
“Nice t’ see ye’ too, ass.”
Despite his comment, Grimmy leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s
cheek. “I’ll take tha’ as an invitation t'sit down with m'favourite
"Grimmy’s just jealous he’s got no one to rub their
feet." Was it childish that Y/N stuck her tongue out at him? Maybe
so, but that’s how their friendship works.
"Oh no sweets. Even if I did m'not touching anyone’s stinky
feet.” Dry humour’s always been Grimmy’s specialty.
“Ye’ really are a catch mate,” Harry jabs, taking a
swig from his water bottle.
Grimmy narrows his eyes, “s'tha’ the same outfit ye’ were
wearing not even two weeks ago, 'arry?”
“Heyyyy!” Y/N chimes, scolding Grimmy with the
sternest face she could pull, “s'my favourite suit of his.”
“Yeh, s'her favourite suit of mine,” Harry mocks. And
they all laugh.
After that, any intention Y/N had of staying sober went out the
window the second Grimmy came up with the brilliant idea of a game where they’d
have to take a shot every time George kissed Pixie.
You’d think she’d turn it down after the last time she’d gotten
sloshed and the fact she’d vowed to take it easy when she did decide to drink.
But Grimmy had called her a ninny because ‘s’okay if ye’ can’t handle ye’ liquor, babe.’ And
even if she couldn’t, which she thinks they both know he’ll probably end up the
winner, she’s certainly not gonna give him the satisfaction of not even trying.
But now, looking back at it, 6 shots in and already feeling it,
Y/N really should’ve known better, should’ve thought before hastily agreeing.
Of course the bride and the groom are expected to share kisses various times
throughout the night at their wedding party. And it was so like Grimmy to
demand they kiss every ten minutes, Harry laughing and nodding his head in
amusement, or disapproval, Y/N’s not entirely sure at this point.
But she does have to admit she’s having a grand time dancing to
“The Time of My Life.” Harry dancing circles around her with his arms
up, mouthing along and shoulder shrugging to the beat, an immense smile on his
perfect face. She throws her head back in amusement, laughing lively.
She secretly thanks the heavens that Harry isn’t partaking in
any drinking, choosing to stick to water, allowing her to use him as leverage
whenever she begins to stumble.
“Okay, think she’s had enough, Grim,” the comment
comes when Grimmy tries to hand Y/N another drink, only for Harry to take it
himself and set it at the edge of the round table, away from Y/N who’s got her
head on his shoulder and is beginning to fully lean into him from
“Oh, poo, you’re no fun.” He sticks his tongue out at
his sober friend before excusing himself when it’s announced that it’s time for
“Feeling a'right, pet?” His thumb rubs circles on her
palm where their hands clasp atop his thigh.
“Hmm.” Her hooded eyes open a tad slighter when she feels
his lips press a kiss to her head before pressing his cheek against her hair.
"Yeah. Need to use the bathroom though."
"C'mon, then.” He takes her hand into his, careful in
helping her up, his free hand at the small of her back to steady her.
“M'fine, babe.” She smoothes out the wrinkles on the
skirt of her dress and grabs her purse from the table.
“Ye’ sure? Don’ mind going with ye’."
"I’ll be fine.” And the giggle emitting from her mouth
when she pecks at his exposed chest can’t be any more endearing. He watches her
walk past tables of guests, a breath of relief to see she’s good on her feet
despite the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.
He sits back down, singlehandedly undoing another button on his
shirt as he brings his arm to rest on the back of the chair Y/N was just
Harry never thought he’d be seeing her face again. It took him a
while to control his paranoia, his hyperactive mind conjuring up what he
thought to be every possible scenario in which Y/N finds out about what he did.
But not this one.
It catches him completely off guard, his body stiffening at the
sight. What throws him off even more is when she spots him and begins making
her way to him.
The closer she gets, the farther he wants to get away.
“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Her voice
sends shivers down his spine. She’s looking at him with…desire? It’s all
unappealing if he’s being honest. It feels like she’s trying to lure him in,
the way her eyebrow is raised, eyes a bit squinty as she struts closer. He’s
making it clear he’s uncomfortable, and if she realizes this, she doesn’t show
it, and it doesn’t halt her either.
How was he to know she was a childhood friend of the groom? He’d
never seen her at gatherings before that unfaithful night, but in retrospect,
he too is guilty of going an endless amount of time without talking to his
childhood friends. Harry thinks this is the universe’s way of punishing him for
not coming clean.
His brows furrow in concern. Y/N will be back any second and
he’s sure she’ll ask who this woman standing before him is. And it could go one
of two ways.
Harry can introduce her as a friend, but that’d be betraying Y/N
on a whole other level. Introducing the woman he slept with to his girlfriend.
But he can’t do that. He won’t.
Or. Or what if this woman has the audacity to bring it up. What
if Y/N finds out in the worst way possible.
His hands are sweating in his pockets, body tense.
“Left so early that morning. Didn’t even stay for
breakfast.” The smug look on her face has Harry’s tummy twisting, and he
really wants to slap her hand away the second her fingers make contact with the
fabric of his suit, fingers running over at the lapel.
And he should stop her right there, but his throat is dry and
he’s afraid the second he opens it to add how much of a mistake it was and that
he has a girlfriend, is the moment Y/N over hears the conversation.
“You’re a good fuck, you know. Best I’ve ever
He knows she’s trying to get a response out of him, anything
that might assure her that he’d had a good time too.
But he’s not able to get anything out when he notices her stare
trail behind him.
"Harry.” Her voice just above a whisper, the sound of
heels clicking against the ground growing closer.
when carlos asks evie to make him a skirt, she hardly bats an eyelash. he’s surprised by her lack of reaction, but when he openly questions it, she just hugs him, saying that she’ll accept him no matter what he identifies as.
when he goes to mal for some makeup tips, she blinks at him, but smiles, quick to help. feeling as though he can be completely honest with her, he makes his full confession, about his identity and everything. again, she smiles, telling him that he chose the right person to come out to, as she’s famous for being the first vk to come out as trans. she even adds that she feels the same as him, regarding her sexuality, and he breathes a sigh of relief, glad to find someone he can relate to in a land of such structure and stereotypes.
when he enters the ballroom for the next school dance, all eyes fall on him. he nearly trips in his red, white, and black dress, but just before he can fall flat on his face, a strong pair of arms wrap around him, catching him. he glances up into the bright green eyes of harry hook, the taller boy smiling at him, in a more soft, fond way rather than his normal devious smirks. carlos blushes beneath his gaze, but it’s not the reaction he was anticipating.
harry helps him back onto his feet again, offering a hand out for him to take, guiding him towards where his date for the evening stands, staring at him in awe.
“carlos,” jay says breathlessly. “you look amazing.” carlos smiles.
“thank you,” he says, giving a small curtsy. jay laughs, bowing, before he offers a hand out to carlos, who takes it, easily sliding into the older boy’s strong arms. together, they dance, ignoring the judging glances from their peers, their attentions only on each other.
request: a tom imagine based on the song love me now by john legend
a/n: idk if this is any good? i’m not the greatest at analysing song meanings so idk if i used the song right, let me know
word count: 1370
Pulling me further Further than I’ve been before Making me stronger Shaking me right to the core, oh I don’t know what’s in the stars Never heard it from above, the world isn’t ours But I know what’s in my heart If you ain’t mine I’ll be torn apart
People questioned your relationship with Tom from the very beginning. You were from different worlds; he was a famous movie star, travelling across the globe in private jets, hanging out with Hollywood stars and dining in five star restaurants where the appetisers alone cost more than your weekly food shop; you were a student, studying at university in London, barely getting by with your student loan. When he had first spied you in his local pub near his home, Tom couldn’t stop looking at you. He wanted to go up to you and talk to you so badly, but he was nervous and was scared he would say something stupid and mess his chances up with you. He knew if he didn’t introduce himself before you left he’d hate himself for the rest of his life.
“If you’re not mine,” he said. “I think I’ll be torn apart.”
You hit it off straight away, and you had your first date the next weekend. You fell in love with one another fast, your emotions heightened since Tom would soon be off globetrotting again. You spent every opportunity you could together. He insisted you made him a better person, he couldn’t imagine a life where you weren’t his. The distance strained your relationship at times, pulling you apart from him physically and mentally, but you’d always find a way to make it work. You couldn’t live without him, nor could he without you.
I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone So I’m gonna love you now, like it’s all I have I know it’ll kill me when it’s over I don’t wanna think about it, I want you to love me now
After six years of dating, after you graduated university and found yourself a full time job, after Tom won his first Oscar - and the one after that, after you bought your first house together, Tom proposed to you. It was on a rainy Tuesday afternoon whilst walking Tessa on a hike up a hill. The two of you reached the top of the trail and sat on the same bench overlooking the English countryside you always sat on as Tessa ran wildly around your feet.
“Life is short,” he said. The seriousness of his comment had taken you aback. “And I don’t want to think about what my life would be like if you were taken away from me, or if I was taken from you. Whenever it is, ten, twenty, sixty years, whatever. Whatever reason, I know it’d kill me if this ever ended.” He was sweating even though the air was cold. You were confused. “So I don’t want to think about that, I don’t want to think about the end, because I don’t know what the future is gonna hold, I want to think about the now. I want to love you right now, like it’s all I have. I want you to love me now. I know there is no better person on earth for me than you, and I know I can be the perfect man for you. I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone, when I die, or- but I know nobody is capable of loving you as much as I do.” He reached into his pocket, struggling to pull out whatever it was he was looking for from his jeans. He opened the little black box, his grandmother’s ring sitting pretty inside. “Will you be my wife?”
Something inside us knows there’s nothing guaranteed Yeah, girl, I don’t need you to tell me that you’ll never leave, no When we’ve done all that we could to turn darkness into light, turn evil to good Even when we try so hard for that perfect kind of love, it could all fall apart
“And finally, my beautiful wife,” Tom said into the microphone, your wedding guests watching tearfully as he neared the end of his speech. “The thing with you, baby, is we’ve both learnt not to take this for granted, what we have - like anything, there’s nothing guaranteed in life. I knew, from that very first day in the little shitty pub near my old house, when I first laid eyes on you, I knew one day we would be here on our wedding day, and I knew from that day you would make me the happiest man on earth. Like any relationship, we’ve had our challenges, our ups and downs and whatever, we’ve both threatened to leave, and sometimes we did,” he laughed as you looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes as you smiled. “But I can’t live without you. We always came back. We always managed to turn the darkness into light. You’re my soulmate, and there is no-one I would rather spend my life with. Thank you for everything you do, everything you have done and will do, I am grateful for it all. The past seven years, all I can think about is how lucky I am to have been put on this planet at the same time as you, and how I’m even luckier that it’s me that gets to wake up next to you every morning. I hope I can give you all the love you deserve and more, and you deserve a lot of love baby. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He cleared his throat as he picked up his champagne flute. “So if you could all please raise your glasses, and toast the greatest woman to walk this world, my wife.”
And who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone? Oh I’m gonna love you now, like it’s all I have And I know it’ll kill me when it’s over I don’t wanna think about it, I want you to love me now
“So that’s it then?!” He screamed, banging his fist against the doorframe. Tessa cowered underneath the kitchen table, whimpering as Tom raised his voice. “You’re just gonna leave?” “Please stop shouting,” you tried. “I just, it’s too much sometimes! The media are so involved in my life now, I just want to be normal. I just need a break.” Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as Tom leaned against the wall with his arms, his head bent down with his forehead touching the bricks, trying to calm himself. “You’re my wife.” He said. “I know that,” you twisted the rings on your fourth finger of your left hand. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged, suddenly his voice was quiet, wobbly from his tears. “I know it’ll kill me when it’s over. I don’t want this to be over.” “Tom-” “Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to think about a life without you. I want you to love me now. We don’t need a break, I don’t want to stop loving you, not for a second. Please, just love me now.”
Oh I don’t know how the years will go down, it’s alright Let’s make the most of every moment tonight
After four more years of marriage, two kids, one more dog and a move to Los Angeles, you and Tom were better than ever. He kissed your temple as you stood in the doorway of the nursery together, watching your youngest child sleep.
“You know all those years ago, before we met in that pub,” you whispered. “I never thought I would be living a life as good as this. I didn’t know how the years would go down, but you- you just make everything so good.” Tom smiled, leaning his head against yours. “When we have shit times, I just stop and look at you and I know it’s alright, it’s always going to be alright when I’m with you.” Tom pressed his lips against yours for a second. “I don’t ever want to take you for granted,” you continued. “Let’s make the most of every moment.”
“Anonymous asked: … Can i request a jealous Keanu reaction gif?”
*whispers* Let me just say, I’m sorry about how long this took, It was somehow a lot more difficult than I was anticipating. So, thank you for your patience. Please, take these gifs of Keanu that could most?? likely?? pass as him being jealous/possessive/protective, as a (1/3) part consolation present.