#i was listening to matilda by harry styles and got into my feels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spidernuggets · 1 month

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I was listening to Matilda by Harry Styles and...

Can I ask something about the reader living in a toxic environment or having a toxic family but seeing it as normal, until she meets Jason and he makes her see that it's actually not normal?

Only if you feel comfortable writing it tho 🥲💗

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Note: I LOVEEE this request. It gives me the opportunity to show the little things in a toxic environment/family that are DEF mentally unhealthy, but it can be played off as, idk the word, normal, or not a big deal.

Reader's back story: Reader grew up with a family where there's always a lot of petty disagreements but always leads to being yelled at. Reader was also raised to respect others, but hypocritically, her parents don't show that same level. So when they yell at her, she doesn't say anything back, she doesn't talk back or defend herself etc etc. But the day after, her parents "apologise", Reader accepts, but the apology means fuck all because her parents always makes the same mistakes and the cycle continues.

"Fucking hell! Can you just fucking leave me alone!" Jason yells after climbing through the fire escape. He just came back after a rough mission and is in no mood.

You ran up to him, trying to give him a hug, and at first, he lightly pushed you away, but poor you didn't get the memo and tried to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

Jason really didn't mean to lash out on you. During the mission, he got scolded by Dick and got punched across the jaw by Bruce. He also failed the mission anyway. And honestly, all that time wasted when he could've been in your arms instead pissed him off more.

But now that he's here with you, he doesn't seem like he's in the mood to be held by you. He just wants everything to be quiet. Except, now he's the one being loud.

"I'm sorry, Jay, I just-"

"Y/n, please, just shut up for five minutes because I don't think my head can last another second with you!" He storms away, taking an extra pillow and blanket and goes to sleep on the couch. You let him leave, knowing he'll be better in the morning.

This was the first time Jason had raised his voice to you. But it was fine.

You woke up to the feel on fingers running through your hair and light, damp kisses on your nose. You twist and turned and groaned at the feeling, wishing for more sleep.

"Wake up, sweet thing. Please?" You heard a deep, raspy voice ask.

You barely opened your eyes but made out the figure in front of you. Jason was on his knees, kneeling beside your bed with roses and your favourite candies in his hand.

"Mm.. Jay?" You groaned once more, trying to sit up while rubbing your eyes open. "Special occasion?" You groggily asked.

Jason looks at you slightly confused. "What? No.. no, I just wanted to say I'm.. I'm sorry. I acted like an asshole last night, a major asshole. Scream at me, hit me, do whatever. Please, please forgive me," he whines, looking down while presenting the gifts to you. He tenses up as you stay silent. When he looks up, your head is tilted, accompanied by a questioning look on your face. "And.. And I told Bruce that I'm taking the week off. I'll take you out on dates, wherever you want to go, I'll buy you everything you want." At this point, he'd give his soul to Trigon just for you to forgive him.

Slowly, you take the candies and roses from him. "That's really sweet, Jay.. but.. why?" Now it was Jason's turn to look at you in confusion and disbelief.

"What- What do you mean why? I was a bastard last night! I told you to shut up, I told you to leave me akone! I left you alone in bed last night!" In all realness, the moment Jason sat on the couch, he thought you indirectly broke up with him and left. He didn't expect you to be in bed. So he ran to the closest ooen shop and bought you all your favourite candies.

"Oh..." You pondered, looking at the pretty petals in your hands. "It's okay, Jay. Don't worry about it, it's fine," you smiled.

Jason frowned. You were smiling. Genuinely smiling at him. As if nothing happened. As if what he did wasn't wrong. "What? It's not- It's not fine. How can you say that?"

"Well, you're sorry, yeah? So everything is good," you try to hold your hand in his, but the contact made him flinch. It's like Jason is getting angry for you.

"No. No, everything's NOT good. Why are you acted as if I didn't just fully disrespect you last night? Why are you acting as if nothing happened? What if I yell at you like that again, huh? It wouldn't be fine!" Jason doesn't understand why you think everything is fine.

"I mean.. If you say sorry, then you're sorry," you shortly explain.

"Were you always like this?" He quietly asks, holding your hands, caressing them with his thumbs. "A lot of the times, sorry isn't enough. Why- Why do you forgive so easily?" There's a plead in Jason's eyes. Through his life, he's always done so much wrong. He always lost people. Forgiveness was a foreign thing to him. But the fact that you gave no second thought into forgiving him had him worried.

You look down in such shame. You don't really know. But then you think back to when you were a kid. Back to when you reached out to pour some juice in your cup, but then you knocked over your dad's glass of water, and it smashed all over the ground.

You were eight. You were eight when your dad started yelling at you, asking why you were incompetent. You were crying and didn't hear your dad saying you had nothing to cry over.

Later in the night, your mom went to you, telling you your dad had a rough night, and he didn't mean to take it out on you. Then your dad walked in, kneeled, and said he was sorry. He said he'd never say anything like that to you ever again. And you forgave him. Because you were eight, and you believed that he was sorry.

To this day, you still weren't sure if he was sorry. Because he always noticed the small mistakes you made and lash out on you. Your mom did this, too. But the two of them always crawled back, asking for forgiveness, telling you they didn't mean it, promising it would never happen again.

The one time you tried to defend yourself, it just ticked them off even more. So, every time they raised their voices, your own stayed silent. You'd just wait for them to take out their harsh emotions on you, and you'd just wait for them with their routine of apologies, you'd just wait for the next time they gave out to you.

Maybe you're projecting this method onto Jason. You already knew how much of a hot head he is. But you still don't know. His apology seemed more alive than your parents'.

But, still. It was the same. 'I'll never do it again.' 'I'm sorry.'

The difference was.. was Jason WANTED you to be angry with him. Maybe that's what was missing. A chance to secure yourself. A chance to fight back. A chance to respect yourself.

"I don't know.." You whisper, too tired to lift your head to look at him.

"Hey.." He gently calls out, his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. "I'm not saying forgiveness is a bad thing. But you need to be angry about certain things. About me. Not everything is sunshine and rainbows. Just because someone says they're sorry, it doesn't mean they actually are. Except for me. I'm so, so sorry. Like, if I were you right now, I'd probably dump my ass." His last statement made you giggle ever so slightly.

"There's my girl," he says, one of his hands reaching up to hold her cheek, squishing it gently. "Next time I make a dick move, be angry. Yell at me, hit me. Threaten to dump me. That'll definitely make me feel real sorry." He smiles.

You let out a chuckle, turning your face to kiss the rough palm of his hand. "Okay," you mumbke through his hold.

Are my fics getting shorter and shorter each time? That's my worst fear.

ANYWAYS, I genuinely hope this problem makes sense!!! It's light, but as I said, it's unhealthy!!

Very very very very much hope that you've enjoyed, Anon 🙏🙏

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chrisevansonly · 11 months

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Block Out the Noise

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: sometimes you just need to listen to your song and love on your boyfriend to make the negative thoughts go away

warnings: mention of past abuse, talks of depression and suicidal thoughts, potentially triggering(?!) very soft and caring harry<3

a/n: i wanted to write something about matilda because it’s a song that I hold so close to my heart. from growing up in an abusive home and needing to take care of my brother from age 6 and up, when i heard matilda i knew it would be a song i’d cherish forever. this is a fic i hold close to my heart because i was that scared and small little girl who didn’t understand why i got anger taken out on me and why i had bruises when other kids didn’t. you’re not alone, you’ve got me in your corner and your stronger than you know, i hope my inner child knows that too<3

No one asks to be born into a world of chaos and fear, especially not when you’re a child. Wondering why your parents fought, the screaming matches, the subtle bruises you somehow ended up with because you ‘stood in the way.’ As a child you never knew what went wrong or what you did to be treated this way but you still tried your hardest regardless of the war zone you once called home.

you were riding your bike to the sound of its no big deal, and you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..

You taught yourself to read, to cook, to take care of yourself and your siblings. Going as far as to teach yourself to ride a bike and even drive, you raised yourself in a world where you wished you hadn’t needed to do that. When you got to high school the insults from your father got worse, the insecurity creeped in and you struggled with self worth and self harm.

nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming til now..

Then came college where you worked three jobs to pay your tuition and fought tooth and nail to get the best grades and work your absolute hardest to get your degree which you did all on your own. Mental illness and recovery was never linear and you battled some of your darkest days throughout college and even towards graduation when you met Harry.

so you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal

Harry was your world, he was the calm through the storm, the light that helped guide you through the tough times, he truly was your best friend. You’d been together now going on 5 years with no plans of ever separating from one another. He always told you that you provided just as much safety and comfort to him as he could to you.

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Now you were 26 and worked at your dream job, your life was filled with so much love and so much joy sometimes you found yourself needing to take a step back and just breathe, reminding yourself your life was real. Of course you had your rough days, and after the meeting and scolding you’d gotten today, all you wanted was to get home and see Harry.

matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

When Harry had started working on the album, he’d told you he was writing one very special song he couldn’t wait to share with you. So on the day that he sat you down and let you listen to Matilda, by the second line you were looking over at him with tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly and he was quick to pull you into his chest.

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

When you arrived home you dropped your work things by the front closet, kicking your heels off and dropping your shoulders in exhaustion. Harry wasn’t home yet so you allowed yourself a few minutes to get some water, your headphones and settle on the couch with a fluffy blanket.

it’s none of my business but it’s just been on my mind

On natural instinct almost, you allowed the soft melody of matilda to play through your headphones, eyes closing as you sunk into the cushions. It wasn’t as if you were trying to cower from the overwhelming feelings you had in this moment, but more or less trying to let them flow and escape from your mind

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

You hadn’t even noticed the tears steadily falling down your cheeks, your breathing picking up slightly as you pulled the blanket up further, attempting to wrap yourself in more warmth. It wasn’t until you felt gentle fingertips dancing across your face that you opened your eyes, Harry looking at you in concern. Pausing the song you pulled your headphones off and sent him a soft smile

“Hey m’love…”

“Hi”

Lifting the blanket up you let him cuddle in next to you, the instant comfort you felt just from being wrapped up in his arms was enough to blow the stress and pain from the day away

“You okay y/n?”

Nodding you leaned further into him

“Just had a really bad day…got yelled at and it just made me think of old stuff and I don’t know…f-felt a bit sad”

Harry placed a soft kiss against your temple

“I’m sorry today was so tough, I know it was probably hard to remember what it was like growing up too..can’t blame you for feeling upset”

His hands ran up and down your arm softly, the constant touch helping to keep you grounded and in the present moment.

“You know what I think?”

Looking up at him you furrowed your brows

“What?”

Placing a kiss on your lips he smiled

“I think you are the most beautiful soul, inside and out. Despite everything you’re still here, fighting and working hard day in and day out. You don’t ever have to feel sorry or feel bad about doing everything you’ve done on your own, and allowing yourself to love and experience love despite it all”

“H…”

He was quick to swipe a tear from your cheek before continuing

“I love you so much, you’re my now and my future. Seeing you grow and flourish into the woman you are today has been a privilege to witness and support you through. I admire you so much m’baby, you’ve never let anyone dim your light and m’so lucky to get to love you”

Anything you would have said to him in this moment was caught in your throat, so wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight was enough for him in the moment. Harry was the moon and the stars to you, he was your whole universe and he’d been helping you heal since you’d been together. You’d done the hardest work on this journey, he had just been there to support and love you through it so he says.

“I love you so much H, thank you for letting me start a new family”

“I’ll always be your family, you’re safe with me my darling, always”

Matilda was a song that would forever have its hold on you, and it was even more special knowing Harry had wrote it thinking of you, including you in his album and one of his projects he really loved. The love he’d shown you and continues to show you had only helped you come out of your shell and finally feel as if you’d found your place and purpose in this world.

Harry was your home, just as you were his.

a/n if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse please reach out to someone you know, whether it be a friend, family member or adult you trust. I’d only wished i’d done so earlier, i’m here to help and support you guys in anyway I can. You are loved, you are cherished and you are worth it.

#harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fanfiction #rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #ruesfriends💙

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kekaki-cupcakes · 3 months

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Request for Nico di Angelo!

Hello! If it's okay, may I request Nico with a (GN or male) reader whos got like, super serious mommy issues? Like, they'll be in a bad mood during the last day of summer solely because of the fact that they have to see their mom once they get home. And it's not even bc they're a misbehaving kid, it's just because their mom absolutely sucks. Maybe where their mom has a bunch of pointless rules, too. Like, nothing to do with cats, praying every morning, going to church every Sunday and church school every Monday, etc. And readers just done with life during the year. They'll purposely go on quests the last week if they get the chance just so they don't have to go home, too. Lmao, just realized this is sorta venting in a way, so sorry. It's alr if you cant do my req. Take care and have a nice day/night!

this is a short one but I really like it, so... and by the way, if anyone ever wants to just vent in my inbox please feel free too, there's no judgement on this blog and you're so strong <3 <3 <3

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own---Nico x reader with a shitty mum [fluff, dw] »»————-　★　————-««

-Nico would be that person who’d offer to kill anyone you hated

-But he would be completely serious

-Like, no fucking around. He knows how much you despise your mum. But it’s so very hard to hate parents because they're still your parents. Godly parents are a whole different story, but the mortal ones are hard to loathe without feeling shit about it inside, so it becomes this sort of silent resentment.

-Nico knows that. Sort of… well, from knowing you, really. And he may have planned out your mortal mother's death in a very excruciating way, with a few backup plans just in case.

-You shut that down when he mentioned it subtly, so he went back to rubbing your back and bringing your favorite snacks from the stash Cecil had secretly [everyone knew] imported from the mortal shops, then hissing at people like a rabid cat when they asked where you were.

-He’s very good at scaring campers off.

-You’d be eating shitty junk food and sweet red strawberries in your cabin and listening to Harry Styles’ song Matilda [Hazel had bought you his record for your birthday last year] pretending your head wasn’t spinning with thoughts about how much you wanted to run away from home, and then the shadow’s by your bed would thicken and your boyfriend would just launch himself onto you.

-You’d gotten pretty used to it, obviously, and now you were pretty much immune to jumpscares.

-It was a handy skill to have considering how many horror movies you and Nico would watch together. He liked to critique how realistic the deaths actually were, and you liked to watch his nerdy face and tease him for jumping when Ghostface crept out from behind a doorway.

-But sometimes, mainly the days before you had to return to your mother and the house filled with crosses and rules and arguments and not enough pet cats for your liking, not even movie marathons and picnics in the strawberry fields could help your mood.

-So, Nico would resort to his back up backup plan [not the murder one, the happy boyfriend one], which was cuddle piles.

-It had taken him quite a while to get used to touch, but between Jason’s ‘how to ask out that random dude you're obsessed with’ classes [you were the random dude] and the fact you liked to hold his hands, he would say that he was quite the expert on hugs now. So he’d wear the biggest jumper he could find, probably one of Hazel’s flowery ones, and drag you into bed.

-Thankfully his bed was no longer a coffin [they had been turned into bookshelves] and was big enough for you both to squish in. So he’d stroke your hair and nod understandingly when you scoffed about how stupid it was to send a literal child of a Greek God to a church.

-It wasn’t even a nice church, apparently. It smelt like socks.

-He had a very good speech for these complaints, which you both knew the words to by now.

One day, very soon, you’re gonna get a job, or a smart person class at college, and you’ll never have to go to Sunday school again. We’re gonna get our own house too. With lots of tea and toast. And rescue cats. And we can name them after your favorite famous people and book characters and we’ll have a huge squishy couch too we can watch horror movies on.

There’ll be lots of posters on the walls and no one will tease you about being a little kid and you can wear whatever clothes you want. Maybe not orange ones though. I think we’re all sick of oranges.

And all of our friends can visit whenever they want to, and we’ll have all of their snacks as well. And toothbrushes.

And we can have Christmas there, without all of the bad stuff. We can decorate the tree really badly. You don’t have to invite your mum. At all. And if she shows up, her coffin will be shaped like a fish. They’re a real thing, you know, fish-shaped coffins.

You’ll never have to see her again. We’ll have our own place. I promise.

You can throw a party full of everyone you know, and not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love. You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up.

I promise.

»»————-　★　————-««

#nico di angelo #nico pjo #nico #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader #nicodiangelo #pjo hoo #percyjackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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concreteburialplot · 6 months

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Intertwined // 04

04 - Snapped Neck

pairing: noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo

masterlists: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5.1k

warnings; VERY SAD 🥲, mild yelling/verbal abuse?, hints at past abuse, reference to past character death, noah is a devastated horrible depressed mess, short time skips, don’t say i didn’t warn you - sorry in advance, don’t hate me 🥲

reminder; THIS IS AU, nothing is meant to be accurate, including family history/events/dynamics/members/names !!

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

i’d like to offer a small playlist for this chapter:

seven - taylor swift

matilda - harry styles

winner - conan gray

hard times - ethel cain

anything 4 u - LANY

if it keeps you up at night - the swoons

-NOAH-

After much-needed water bottles, I’m finally starting to feel somewhat normal again. Folio’s asleep in bed next to me while I lay on a laughably thin blanket on the floor. My eyes fully adjusted to the darkness and all I’m focused on is the popcorn ceiling and counting each plaster peak.

The party rages on the other side of the room and I wonder if anyone out there is sober enough to take me home. It’s almost 1 am and the party hasn’t slowed down. I sigh roughly and roll over to wrap the thin pillow around my head to cover both ears. Even through the cotton I can still vaguely hear the music and a song starts that Nicholas and I were obsessed with a couple months ago.

I chuckle quietly at the lyrics,

“That’s my best friend, she a real bad bitch…”

Such a silly song, even though it’s nothing like what we play or what we regularly listen to – we somehow always get the same pop-y songs stuck in our heads at the same time, then end up loving them unironically.

I shake my head with a stupid grin, thinking about the time we were in the kitchen doing a proper, ridiculous performance while we blasted it through a Google speaker. It started with that song but then snowballed into an entire concert at 2 am – all while his little sister just made fun of us, until she eventually caved in and joined our set.

We were all mic-ed up: me a dustpan, Nicholas a broom, and Stella a spatula.

I dig my front teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a laugh that would definitely wake up Folio.

The memory makes the ground below me that much more rigid.

I’ve already tried sleeping every which way on this god-forsaken carpet, but I can’t seem to get comfy.

The hard floor must be the reason I can’t fall asleep.

I flip back to lay flat.

I don’t really understand why Nick got so upset, but it’s been a long night, so I guess I get it. I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled about getting in the lake. Fucking Folio.

And I know he doesn’t like parties.

I don’t really like them either. I think? Maybe I do now? I don’t know.

But I didn’t want to do this without him.

And I just let him leave like that…

God why did I let him leave.

I want to go home.

I need to go home.

There’s a sharp twist in my stomach when I unlock my dying phone and find no texts from him.

I open my bank app to check my balance. $33.87.

I exit and click on the Uber app, put in our address to see the price. $27.59.

I hit request.

I get home after an Uber ride from a questionable middle-aged man with ridiculous combover.

I fumble with my keys at the front door only to find that it’s not locked. I press my weight against the creaky wooden door to push it open. The house is quiet, if Nick’s car wasn’t in the driveway, I’d think the house was completely empty.

I quietly set my keys down on the wooden dining table across from the kitchen. The bedroom door in the hallway is closed, which I expected. I cross the linoleum and very gently twist the doorknob to peer inside. The small room is illuminated solely by moonlight beaming in through the large window by the bed. I step into the room and click the door closed behind me. When I walk over to the bed, the shimmering white light acts like a spotlight on his face and what I notice churns something deep in my chest. Dried streaks coat his face and look almost like rivers from puffy red eyes.

Surely, he didn’t come home that upset because of the argument we had, right?

I tug at my lip and very gently slip into bed beside him beneath the puffy duvet. The movement causes Nicholas to stir and turn away from me. I stay completely still, not even moving a muscle until he’s completely settled then turn in the same direction as him, just inches away from his back.

If he’s that upset with me, would he even want me here?

Am I intruding?

Is it really intruding if I live here too?

Maybe I should’ve stayed on Folio’s floor.

It’s only then that it really sets in that I really moved out, well more like kicked out, and I live here now. Mostly anyway.

But just because you live somewhere doesn’t mean it’s your home. While I love living with my best friend, and I love his family, and they feel like family – they’re not. As much as they try to not make me feel like one, I am an outsider here.

Even Folio in his frat house, sure he just got hazed and whatever, but he belongs there.

I don’t belong anywhere.

The closest thing I’ve gotten to what I imagine belonging feels like, is with Nicholas. But again, he has no tie to me. We’re friends of course, but if I pissed him off and he wanted me gone… well I’d have nothing. I’d have nowhere to go.

I hate this feeling, this feeling of relying on people.

It’s weird taking up space somewhere you have to walk on eggshells because it’s not yours. Because you don’t belong.

It’s not like I felt like I belonged at home either, not after Mom passed.

So here is better than there at least.

At least there’s no yelling or slamming doors here.

My eyes drift through the moonlit darkness to the small pile of my belongings in the corner of the room. The sight sends a chill up my spine and my heart rate noticeably rises. I’m reminded that there are still some things waiting for me at my stepdad’s.

I want the ability to truly get on my own, if I don’t want to rely on people, I need to get my stuff so that I can actually make something of myself.

I need to at least try.

And to do that, I need my guitar and my keyboard. I’m nothing without them – and I won’t be able to be anything without them.

-NICHOLAS-

My eyes shoot open when shrill screams fill my eardrums. I nearly jump out of my skin at the noise, especially since I had gone to bed alone.

I don’t have the luxury of trying to figure out how Noah got home, just that he is and he’s having another night terror.

“Fuck.” I mutter.

Because I did such a great fucking job dealing with this last time.

I tug at his freezing cold arm and shake him vigorously but of course, it didn’t do much the first time, why would it have a different result now.

I replicate what I did the last time and straddle his lap, grabbing his wrists and pinning them at his sides to restrain his jerky movements.

“NOAH!” I repeat his name with increasing volume.

He wakes up slowly after a couple times of calling his name.

“Nicholas?” He asks groggily, with furrowed brows and squinted eyes.

I sigh, “Night terror.” I state curtly and pull off him, landing beside him with my back towards him.

“Oh.” He says softly and his eyes falter. “Sorry.”

There’s a twist of guilt in my gut because I should be softer with him after his terror, but I just don’t have it in me tonight. The teary soreness in my eyes reminds me just how much I don’t have it in me. I tug the sheets closer to my body.

He rustles around a bit trying to get comfortable, but I fall back asleep quickly. For a bit.

It’s not long after, maybe an hour or two, that I’m awoken once again but this time to a bunch of noise and the overhead light on at full brightness.

“What the fuck.” I mumble, sitting up and rubbing one eye while keeping the other mostly shut.

I turn to find Noah sitting on folded knees, manically rummaging through the couple bags he moved in with. He’s ripping through each one, tossing pieces of clothing out left and right, shaking out the empty bags as if they have hidden compartments.

“What the fuck are you doing Noah.” I ask, my tone soaked in annoyance, exhaustion, and anger.

“I can’t find some of my shirts. I need to get the rest of my shit out. Today.” He replies, his words rushed.

My brows knit together at his sudden – and poorly timed – bout of bravery and motivation. He’d been putting this off and avoiding it for weeks. And now he’s tearing apart his stuff, throwing shit all over our room at 4:30 in the morning… after a night of drinking?

I yawn and shake my head in confusion, “Wait, wait, wait, how did you even get home?”

“Uber.” He replies simply, his gaze still focused on his third bag not even looking up at me.

“You took an Uber home?” I ask somewhat skeptically, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

His rummaging movements pause with a bundle of shirts in hand, “Didn’t wanna bother you.” Then continues digging through the bag.

Normally I would go on a tangent about how I’d rather call me to pick him up instead of doing something stupid like possibly be driven home by someone inebriated – but I’m much too depleted, both physically and emotionally to do so.

“Well, you should’ve called me.” I tug the cotton sheets closer to my body and bunch the material to my chest. “What is this really about? You’re acting so strange.”

I reach over to the light switch and turn the knob to dim the white-yellow hue of the light above us.

“I just need to get my shit, Nicholas.” He huffs, seeming aggravated by my questions.

“Well, you’re gonna go alone if you keep snapping at me like that.” I retort, even though I’d never let him go alone.

He exhales and deflates with a balled-up band tee in his hands. “I just need to do it today. If I don’t do it today, I might not ever be able to.”

Honestly, this is the last thing I fucking needed after earlier tonight. I just wanted to fucking sleep. And not be around Noah.

Yet here I am, awake, around too much Noah.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Fine, we can go today – but only if you fucking wrap up whatever the fuck you’re doing and come to bed. If we’re really doing this today, you don’t need to be sleep-deprived for it.”

“Fine.” He agrees reluctantly and begins gathering the clothes to shove back into the bags. “But I probably won’t be able to sleep.”

“Well, you should at least try.” I scoot back into my left side to make room for him.

The box spring squeaks under the weight of him when slides in and immediately turns away from me. Normally I would be a tad offended, but tonight, I’m grateful.

Surprisingly, small snoozy noises escape him not long after his head hit the pillow. I lay facing him, watching the rise and fall of his ribcage like a metronome.

Concern and fear suddenly flood my bloodstream like a bad drug. Getting most of his stuff out the first time was no picnic and I just know this last time is going to be even worse. Frankly, I’m a tad worried about the things he’d left behind, I wouldn’t put it past his stepdad to throw them out.

I shake my head and try to focus on my breathing to calm me down. When that doesn’t work, I try counting.

I drift off to sleep before 30.

My faux-leather steering wheel cover cracks under my fidgeting fingers. Noah can’t seem to sit still, running his hands up and down his thighs probably to self soothe. The anxiety is thick and tangible in the car. He would never admit it to me, but I know he’s scared shitless about going back home. Noah always tried to hide it from me, but I’m not stupid. It doesn’t matter how “anemic” or thin you are, you don’t amass that many bruises that frequently. I always wondered if that’s why he started wanting so many tattoos so suddenly. Maybe, on some level, that’s what made me want to start tattooing in the first place.

The normally 20-minute-long car ride felt like three hours, but when we arrived, I could’ve sworn it had only been 3 minutes.

I park on the curb at the end of the driveway and shut off the car. Just being on the tiny patch of lawn has my heart thumping through my chest and it’s not even my battle.

But I guess if I’m here with him,

If it’s his, it’s mine too.

As much as he wasn’t prepared to do this, neither was I. My gaze lands on the rectangular windows of the small yellow house. From the outside, it looks so normal, so happy even. It’s almost eerie how far from the truth that is.

I look over at him, just now realizing he hadn’t said a word the whole ride. He’s slumped in the passenger seat, one lanky arm wrapped around his own waist and the other stationed at his mouth. His eyes glued to the house behind me as he chews on his thumbnail.

“We can still go back home, Noah. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not ready.” I offer gently, mostly because I don’t think either of us are fully equipped to do this.

“No. I have to do this.” His eyes finally falter away from the house and land on me.

“Okay. You sure you’re ready?” I ask quietly.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip. “No. But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m gonna be with you the whole time, okay?” I hold out my pinky. “Always, remember?”

He nods and hooks onto my pinky. “Always.”

As expected, I’ve landed myself in the middle of a brawl between Noah and his stepdad. I feel guilty and useless standing there as a bystander not interfering, but my feet can’t seem to move and my vocal cords have ceased to function.

Noah started off strong, full of adrenaline and blind bravery, but it didn’t take long for George to wear him down.

My heart beats loud in my ears and I can’t hear a word they’re saying. All I see is him waving around Noah’s guitar like it’s a toy, using it as an extension of his exaggerated furious expressions. Noah’s tall, but George is much taller and stronger than him, so Noah just looks like a mouse running around an elephant, scrambling trying to snatch the instrument back.

I’m not sure what they’re even screaming about but the argument escalates further than I ever expected it to. My eyes round as I witness each of George’s hands slide to either end of the guitar’s neck.

He wouldn’t

As if in slow motion, I watch the light pale from Noah’s face. His eyes wide and teary, and his brows curled up. I can see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes in real time as he watches his stepdad easily snap the neck of his beloved guitar.

The break is quick and sharp and fills the room with the sound of cords plucking and wood splintering. The noise after is even louder though, just jarring silence.

Until George opens his mouth again. “Get your sad, pathetic little toys and your little boyfriend out of my goddamn house.” Rasps his deep Western accent.

He forcefully tosses the broken instrument at Noah, hitting him so hard it knocks him backwards. The livid man storms across the house and slams the master bedroom door behind him.

Noah’s knees buckle and land harshly on the carpeted floor, holding the guitar in his arms as if it’s a wounded soldier in battle. His face scrunches up around his eyes and tears just begin pouring from him. His chest hiccups with each sob that escapes. He curls the wooden pieces in his arms into his chest and rests his forehead against the curve of the guitar. His cries heave his entire body.

I’m frozen where I stand. What I just witnessed might as well have been a murder. I’ve seen Noah cry, of course, but this is something I’ve only ever seen once before. Besides that one time, I’ve never seen him this bad. At least, he’s never letme see him this bad.

I gently meet him on the floor. For some reason, I feel hesitant to touch him, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I don’t dare even touch the arms that are gripped onto his guitar so, I rest my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t even react to my touch at all, as if he can’t even feel it.

“Noah…” I say cautiously. “Let’s just get you out of here, okay? We just need to grab your stuff and get out. We can figure this out later… later when we’re not here.”

He doesn’t respond and when I try to nudge him even a little bit, he’s solid like concrete where he’s kneeled.

“C’mon Noah we gotta go.” I stretch up to double-check that the bedroom door is still closed. “I’ll get the rest of your stuff. We just need to get you out of here.” I urge and squeeze his shoulder a bit.

His fingers dig into the instrument as he takes a deep sniffle and screws his eyes shut tight, shoving the salty tears out. He just gives me a little nod against the guitar, letting me know that he understands but doesn’t move.

“Please, Noah.” I beg and try pulling at his arm again. “Please get up. I need you to get up for me.”

He gives a little of his arm to me and not much more. But I take what I can get and use both of my arms to weakly lift him up from the floor by his underarms. I basically carry him out of the house, his body limp as I drag him backwards across the overgrown lawn. Shards of dying grass cling to our clothes and dust kicks up all over the back of his jeans.

I feebly open my back door and let him crawl into the backseat with the guitar tight in his grip. He immediately lays with it across the cushions and some boxes.

Luckily, we had gotten most of his belongings already so there was just the final sweep left to do.

Thankfully, George is still holed up in his room, though that doesn’t ease my panicked heart-pounding in my ears. Noah’s room is completely bare except for a half-filled trash bag of miscellaneous belongings. I drag the heavy bag across the stained beige carpet, but I stop at something that catches my eye.

In one cubicle of many that make up a huge bookshelf are a couple of photo albums in chronological order spanning over a few years. From the peek-through covers I can tell that they’re filled with pictures of his parents, or maybe at least his mom.

My head snaps at a stir that comes from behind the bedroom door and in a split-second decision, I scoop all the photo albums and throw them into the black trash bag. I use all my strength to heave the now extra bulky bag across the yard as I run towards the car.

I toss the bag into the trunk and slam the door before rounding the car, throwing myself so hard into the driver’s seat that I nearly tip the car over. I take a glance in my rear-view to check on Noah and find his body tightly curled around the instrument sobbing even worse than how I left him. Seeing him like this… gives me an ache in my chest that I didn’t even know could hurt so much. It’s so excruciating that I could almost vomit from it.

I quickly shift the car into drive and speed off so fast that my wheels squeal.

I’m unsure what to do or what to say. It feels like saying anything would only make things worse at risk of saying something wrong. I always feel guilty when situations like this happen with his family because I can’t imagine what he feels. I don’t know what I’d do without my family, and I can’t even fathom someone treating their child like that, especially him. Noah is the last person on earth that deserves that.

I bite my nail as I walk back and forth in the living room lost in my thoughts.

“Honey, why don’t you come sit down?” My mom suggests patting the couch cushion next to her. “Pacing around the living room isn’t going to help anything.”

I sigh and meet her on the couch, “You should’ve seen him, Mamá.” I run my fingers through my sweat-coated roots. “Oh my god, it was horrible.”

She begins rubbing small circles into my back, “I know Gatito.” She tries to soothe, using her Spanish nickname for me – she always told me I resembled a small cat. “But we know what his family is like, I’m surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner.”

“Yeah…” I trail off, biting down hard on my thumbnail thinking of all the things we never told her his stepdad had done. If she knew the things he’d done to him – especially in front of me – who knows what she’d do. She’s a Hispanic single mother, nothing would be able to stop her – and a George vs. Mom battle royal is the last thing we need.

“I’ve just never seen anyone that… defeated before. That guitar was everything to him.” I hang my head and use both hands to cover my face.

“Well, you know, maybe we could pull together some extra money by Christmas?” She offers. “I could pick up some extra shifts at the hospital.”

“No, no, Mom, you don’t understand.” I sigh and turn my head to her against my propped palm. “His mom gave him that guitar.”

“Oh.” She replies solemnly in understanding.

“There’s a music store in town where I get my vinyls, they do repairs there.” My sister speaks up from across the room, resting on the column that separates the living room from the kitchen. “Maybe you could see if they could fix it?”

I blink blankly as I process her words and it’s like a lightbulb illuminates above my head. “You actually might have a good idea for once Stell.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m trying to be helpful, you don’t have to be rude.”

“I’m your brother, it’s kind of my job to be rude.”

“Whatever.” She takes a sip from her obnoxiously sized water bottle. “There’s a really cute guy that works there, I think he does most of the repairs. His name is Jolly, tell him Stella sent you.” She winks.

“Augh.” I groan in disgust and wave her boy craze away. “I’ll be sure to do that.” I add sarcastically.

A serious stillness falls over the room like everyone is equally unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you gonna do about Noah?” Stella asks softly, her voice laced with concern.

My leg bounces in anxious uncertainty as my eyes drift over to my closed bedroom door.

“I don’t know.”

I gently knock on my door and slowly creek it open. The room is pitch black with just Noah on the bed curled up around his guitar, his shoulder length hair splayed across the pillows, and the duvet wrapped around him like a cocoon. He’d been hidden away in my room like this since we got home.

“You awake?” I question timidly, readjusting the tray in my hands.

It takes a moment, but he replies with a tiny, short groan.

“I brought you soup. You know, the chicken noodle my mom makes that you like so much?”

Another brief pause followed by a slightly more intrigued grumble.

I take it as permission to enter and precariously make my way over to him. There’s a sliver of mattress left behind him, and I fit half my ass on it.

I allow him the space to be quiet with me for a bit.

“How are you doing?” I ask, even though it’s an asinine question.

He just sniffles.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I sigh quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

He sniffles again and scooches further into the bed, onto my side.

I silently tap my index finger on the plastic tray, pondering what that could mean before I speak. “You want me to lay with you?”

He gives a small ‘mhm’ groan.

“Okay, I can do that. But can you eat for me?”

He replies with a ‘nuh-uh’ whine.

I exhale knowing this was going to be an uphill battle. “Noah, you’ve gotta eat.”

He shakes his head in resistance again.

“C’mon, just a couple bites…for me?”

A pause before he lets out a defiant but agreeing sigh.

“You’re not gonna move, are you?”

He shakes his head.

I breathe out trying not to sound annoyed because I should be grateful that he even cooperated this much.

Maneuvering around him from behind, I hold the bowl in one hand and the spoon in the other. Thankfully, the soup had cooled down to just a bit warmer than room temperature. I scoop a spoonful of it, making sure to get a little bit of everything: noodle, chicken, and carrot – if he’s only going to take a couple bites, I have to make sure they count. I carefully bring the spoon over to his lips, he lifts his head just a bit and takes the spoonful into his mouth. He let me give him 4 or 5 bites, which was more than I expected, before rejecting the rest.

I set the bowl on the nightstand, lift the sheets, and nestle into the space he made for me.

“Thanks for eating.” I say quietly. “I know you didn’t want to.”

He nods mutely.

I press my lips together. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”

He’s silent. Slowly but surely sniffles and sobs begin to pour from him again. I immediately feel the twist of guilt in my stomach for being the one to trigger his tears again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-I can leave if you want some priv–“

His hand reaches behind him and firmly captures my wrist.

“Stay.” He begs in a coarse whisper, the first thing he’s said since we came home. “Please?”

His voice is so cracked and hoarse, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was sick.

I falter a second to respond but he must’ve felt the hesitation.

“It helps.” He croaks. “Remember?”

The churn in my chest returns and there’s an ache in my heart that accompanies it. If I could somehow magically take all of this away, I would, even if it meant trading places with him. Even if it meant I’d be the one hurting instead.

I feel so fucking useless, not being able to do much for him.

But at least I can do this.

“Okay.” I respond cautiously and settle further into the bed, now essentially spooned around his body.

His grip on my wrist never left so I let our joined arms rest on his hip. I can’t seem to gather with the right words to say to him, I mean what can you really say after something like that?

So, I offer him the only words that feel suitable.

“I’m not going anywhere, Noah. You know that right?”

There’s a long quiet, so long that I think he may have fallen asleep.

But then he squeezes my wrist.

“Thank you.”

I sense the urge to do something, but I’m not sure how he’ll react. I don’t know, maybe it would help?

I tug at where his hand meets mine and he gives me an upset grumble, like he doesn’t want me to leave.

“I just… is it okay if - can I try something?” I ask shyly, suddenly very nervous, nervous enough to have my heart racing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch his brows furrowing. I can tell he wants to be stubborn and keep me latched there, but curiosity always gets the best of him. He slowly loosens his grip on my wrist.

I didn’t notice that my palms were sweating until I’ve retrieved my hand. I press my lips flat and feel like my ribcage could burst open at any minute from how hard my heart beats against it.

My body is screaming at me to do it and as much as I want to fight it, I can’t.

Maybe it would help

I let my arm go where it wants to go. It slithers beneath the covers and through the space between Noah’s arm and his side. I wrap my arm around his waist and pull flush against him.

We both freeze. My ears grow warm as the hour-long seconds pass.

Maybe he’s uncomfortable

Maybe he thinks this is weird

Maybe it is weird?

Is this weird?

Maybe he doesn’t like it

Maybe I’m making it worse

Maybe–

Unexpectedly, he just melts into me. His body molds into my arms like they were made just for him.

He finds my arm and brings it to his face, pressing his damp, swollen eyes against it. Small sobs fall into my arm and his grip on me is so tight I could turn blue.

Maybe he feels safe, and maybe he just needed to feel safe to let the rest out.

My own eyes well up at the sound of him, at the feeling of his body heaving in my arms. I press my forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m always gonna be here.” I reassure him again through my own held-back tears.

He wipes his tears off with the collar of his shirt before pulling my arm back around his chest. He nuzzles into me, and I feel my heart swell so big it fills my entire chest.

I think I already know the answer, but I wanna hear it anyway.

“Does this help?”

He lets out a sleepy sigh as he nestles his back into my chest.

“You always help, Nicholas.”

Next Chapter -> 05 - Girl Crush*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @cryingabtab @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @kingdomof-omens @the-hell-i-overcame @blackveilomens @xxrainstorm [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

a/n; I know this was a heavy one 😅 i'm sorry, i hope you were able to enjoy it regardless.

Thank you for the support on this series and on my other series, Virality. I appreciate it more than you know. I love reading your comments and asks. I am incredibly grateful for them, thank you.

#sorry i know this was sad 😬#or maybe not idk #noah cries a lot im sorry #he won’t always be such a crybaby i promise #i have edited this so many fucking times bro so sorry if it sucks 🥲#intertwined series #concreteburialplot works #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #noah sebastian fic #noah x nicholas #noah x nick #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo fanfic #noah x nick fanfic

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mixedstyles · 2 years

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As Long as You Are: Part 2

Harry makes contact

LINKS: Part One, Part Three, Social Media Blurb

Author’s Note: Welcome back! I was not expecting such a wonderful response to part one, it truly meant (and still means) a lot to me! So, I just want everyone who reads this lil story to know that I am demisexual, so it takes me a very long time to develop feelings for someone, and it has to be after a close emotional bond has been formed. To move their friendship from platonic → romantic, it might be done through headcanons or small blurbs before more “chapters” are written from their POV. Hopefully that makes sense

P.S There are links throughout the story. They will be bolded and italicized!

Pronouns Used: She/Her (use of y/n)

POV: Third Person. Audrey Nuna is the faceclaim for this story and in my head the music style y/n makes is Gia Margaret’s

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of mental health (depression)

Word Count: 2179

Harry x musician!reader: Harry finally makes contact.

“Should I do it?” Harry was talking to Mitch about whether or not he should direct message y/n about her music and reaction video.

“I mean, I dunno. I feel like I’m not the person to ask,” Mitch was only half listening to Harry’s questions as he was messing around on his guitar and didn’t care enough, like any best friend would do. The question was more rhetorical than anything else and Mitch had a feeling Harry would message the girl no matter what his suggestion was.

“It’s not like I’m trying to ask her out or anything. I’m not interested in that. I just want to poke a little fun at her and then talk about music. That’s not weird, right?” This time Mitch actually paid attention. Looking up from the notebook that was scribbled with rough music hooks and melodies Mitch finally responded.

“Dude, I love you but it would probably be a little weird. Or maybe not, I’m not sure,” Harry deflated and gave a small glare towards his friend. “Hey!” Mitch protested, “I just think that some random college student getting a direct message from an extremely famous musical artist would be a little jarring. Granted it would be cool. But jarring nonetheless.” He held up his hands in a shrugging gesture and went back to his notebook.

Harry considered Mitch’s words and weighed his options. It’s not like there was a huge risk in messaging her and both of their lives would go on if he didn’t. He wasn’t planning on messaging her for anything other than the reasons he gave Mitch. He didn’t even know the girl.

“Fuck it,” he said, “I’m doing it and no one can stop me.” Harry opened Instagram back up and searched for the Instagram username that was written in the description of the video he watched the week before.

He didn’t want to follow her, not yet, maybe not ever. Was it rude to message her without following? He questioned. Why is this so anxiety inducing?

Direct Message: @/areyoulistening

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. sent 10:37 am

And so he waited… and waited. Harry ended up forgetting he had even messaged her with how busy he was that day. But of course, just as he was trying to fall asleep his eyes snapped back open. Why does everything come to my mind while I’m trying to sleep? He pulled out his phone and checked his primary Instagram messages. No response. The DM was still on sent. She hadn’t even looked at it. There are hundreds of thousands of messages he hadn’t gotten around to looking at and unfortunately never would. Maybe it was something like that, he got lost in her general messages and she’d never see it.

He went to sleep listening to No Fun and Lucky for You on repeat.

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. received 4:37 am

Her eyes were trying to adjust to the bright light of her phone as she reread the message. Maybe it wasn’t the brightness of the screen making it difficult to comprehend and it was the fact that she was reading a direct message from Harry Styles.

She read it again. Thumbs hovering over the phone keyboard as she was trying to form some sort of coherent response that wasn’t a keyboard smash. She took a deep breath in, concentrating on calming her shaking hands before responding.

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad.

oh my gosh, hi. i love my fans. i didn’t know i had such famous ones! also you know who Novo Amor is???? sent 12:56 pm

She paused looking at the message that she sent. Why the fuck did I ask him if he knew who Novo Amor was? She turned off her phone, stared at the ceiling, pulled the pillow from under her head, and screamed into it.

“Ahhh! What the fuck?” she yelled, the sound slightly muffled by the fabric covering her entire face. “I love my fans? What the fuck is wrong with me?” She pulled the pillow from her face and simply clutched it as if it would bring her back to reality. It was working up until she came to a very important realization.

Harry-fucking-Styles sent me an Instagram message.

I’m sure you have more than just me as a famous fan. I can’t be the only one. I do know who he is, but I don’t really know much of his stuff. I watched your reaction to Harry’s House and then listened to your most recent album. I found No Fun and Lucky for You through the recommendations. Now back to the important accusation at hand: the lyrics to No Fun??? Excuse me???

She sat there frozen, the lyrics to No Fun were suddenly gone from her brain as if they were never there. No Fun, lyrics, sad. Ohhh.

Thank goodness it was a momentary lapse in memory because she did not want to look up the lyrics to her own song just because Harry Styles muddled her brain.

i do not know what you’re talking about 👀

“Like the shadow of my mother / In the background” “With the shadow of my father / Having no fun” “With the shadow of my brother / I was a mistake“ That shit hurt

i’m so sorry 😭 it’s meant to invoke the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness i initially wrote it during a bad time and ali (novo amor) helped me put the finishing touches on it

It’s beautiful Truly The subtleties of it just pull at your emotions It’s both painful and soothing

oh my gosh, thank you so much 😭🙏🏼 i’ll have to let ali know “melancholic lullabies” someone told us

That’s exactly what it feels like Perfect way of putting it | “i’ll have to let ali know” Please do! Did anyone else work on it?

nope! Just us 😌😌 we released it back in 2019

She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. Does she let her followers know that she got recognized? Does she let her friends know or should it be kept private? What else should I say? She thought. She wanted to keep the conversation going because what is the likelihood that a famous musician - let alone Harry Styles - would message some random person? She also wanted to be casual no matter how not casual she felt.

Thank god for messaging because if it was in person she would have barely kept it together.

hold on. you said you listened to my most recent album??? THE harry styles listened to MY album

I thought it was only fair because you listened to mine Did you just casually make an album in your freetime?

this interaction is ridiculous 😩😩 it feels like it’s not real. i think i’m still dreaming

Not dreaming and this is definitely real

again, ridiculous and to answer your question kind of? since i’m in a music school a lot of students end up creating EPs or full albums of their own so making music isn’t anything special i guess? the album grew from a throwaway piece i wrote years ago that i pulled out of storage for my studio production class i realized it had a lot of potential and decided to run with the sound and feel and i ended up producing 13 songs 😗✌🏼 actually in the process of making another album 🤪 sorry for the spam

That’s so cool All by yourself? And don't apologize, I’m the one who asked!

well if harry styles insists… i guess i won’t feel bad yes 😳 all by myself both of them because i like making things difficult wanna make an appearance on the next album? 👀

She had to shoot her shot, there was no way in hell that he, Harry-fucking-Styles - as she kept saying - would make an appearance on a music students random-ass album that they were working on out of their dingy New York appartment. But she would regret not asking.

Smooth I’ll think about it

oh my gosh i was (mostly) joking! you’re a very busy and famous man, i didn’t expect an answer let alone a “i’ll think about it” gosh, what is this day? it feels fake

Holy shit, holy-fucking-shit. “I’ll think about it” she reread the message over and over. That response was the closest thing she’d ever come to making music with Harry Styles and she was totally okay with that.

Your sound is so soothing, I’m not sure I’d want to mess with that.

Ah, there it is. She realized. He’s letting me down easy.

They continued to message sporadically throughout the day but the time difference made it a little awkward once the hours started to pass. Harry was “somewhere in the UK” (his words) and she joked back that she was “somewhere in New York”. They mostly talked about their mutual love of music and what it was like to create something you were proud of. She asked him if he felt a lot of pressure to please fans and critics alike because his music was on such a massive scale; while he asked her if she felt like she could make music she liked or if she also felt pressure to create music she thought others would like, the professors in her case. She ended up sending him a voice memo in response to that question.

He pressed ‘play’.

“Hi,” she started, “I know this is random but I felt it would be easier to explain via a voice recording because I have a lot to say. I apologize if my voice wavers, I’m actually quite nervous” she continued.

“So, I can’t say much on wanting to please at a massive scale, but um, I definitely think there’s a sense of wanting to please the professors and the outside critics that are invited to give feedback. But I’ve found that in my first year and into my second one I would produce (and I’m using that term loosely) material that I didn’t necessarily like all that much just because I was looking to get a good grade and please those around me. Like now I’ve found that because I’m making things that I love and that I’m proud of, I'm able to defend it to the reviewers and it’s easier for me to verbally explain why I decided to do X instead of Y.” She paused, taking a breath before continuing.

“I guess I couldn’t really like, defend or explain my stuff before because I was just producing what I thought others would like. It also got exhausting and frankly I was burnt out because I just wasn’t happy with what I was making. Like, why make things you don’t like just ‘cause you think others would, I guess, ’vibe’ with it.” A soft chuckle came from the recording, “I’m not sure if that makes sense but uh, yeah, I suppose that’s my response… okay bye.” The voice memo ended with her dragging out the ‘e’ in bye.

Harry paused as the words sank in. He talked to the same handful of people everyday and even though he adored them like none other he always found it so refreshing to be able to talk to new people about music. Especially the insight of someone who was going to university specifically for music production. Harry knew that music was a world in which people could communicate via massive distances and it could traverse the gap of spoken language, but there was just something so personal about sharing the way one created music with someone else.

He wasn’t sure if what y/n shared in the voice memo felt as personal to her as it would have to him had he sent it, but there was just something so intimate, not in the sense of physical or romantic intimacy, but intellectual intimacy. The act of y/n being open and vulnerable and allowing herself to share that insight with someone she didn’t even know. That one minute voice memo was what opened the door to the two of them being able to have deep, meaningful conversations where they got to learn how each other's musical mind worked. And it wasn’t anything romantic, it was two people bonding through shared experiences even though their lives were drastically different. It was the beginning of their collaborative album. Whether it was a figurative or literal album.

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blueberry-ovaries · 2 months

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PLAYLIST - HIRAETH

A playlist for Hiraeth - or the songs i listen to when writing :)

I also imagine the audio where it’s like “i’m not a violent dog i don’t know why i bite”, if you wanted to feel more sad, imagine that :D (Isle of the dogs, audios are so sad)

HIRAETH - Winnie’s personal playlist

I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski

‘Tell your baby that I’m your baby - I bet on losing dogs - I know they’re losing and i’ll pay for my place’

Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridges

‘Know it’s for the better - Know it’s for the better - Know it’s for the better’

‘If you were a waiting room i would never see a doctor - I would sit there with my first aid kit and bleed’

Not Strong Enough - Boy Genius

‘Always an angel never a god - Always an angel never a god’

Chemtrails Over The Country Club - Lana Del Ray

‘You’re in the wind, I’m in the water - Nobody’s son, Nobody’s daughter’

The Archer - Taylor Swift

‘Can you see right through me - They see right through me - They see right through me’

Matilda - Harry Styles

‘Nothing about the way you were treated ever seemed especially alarming ‘til now- So you tie up your hair like it’s no big deal - You can let it go - You can throw a party full of everyone you know’

You’re On Your Own Kid - Taylor Swift

‘Just to learn my dreams aren’t rare - You’re on your own kid - You always have been’

‘My friends from home don’t know what to say - I looked around in a blood-soaked gown - And I saw something they can’t take away’

Cigarette Daydream - Cage the Elephant

‘You were only Seventeen - So sweet with a mean streak - nearly brought me to my knees’

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

‘I’m gonna serve it to you - And that ain’t what you want to hear - But that’s what i’ll do’

Angel of Small Death and the Codine Scene - Hozier

‘With her sweetened breath - And her tongue so mean - She’s the angel of small death and the cosine scene - With her stare blonde hair - Her arms hard and lean’

Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Ray

‘Will you still love me when i’m no longer young and beautiful - Will you still love me when i’ve got nothing but my aching soul - I know you will, I know you will’

The Fruits - Paris Paloma

‘For if i’m going down - I guess i’ll take you with me - Screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing’

Dog Days Are Over - Florence + The Machine

‘So you better run - Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father - Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers’

‘Leave all your love and your longing behind - You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive’

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

‘When everything feels like the movies - Yeah, you bleed just to know your alive - And i don’t want the world to see me - ‘Cause i don’t think that they’d understand’

I’ll Make a Man Out of You - Donny Osmund (Mulan)

‘Did they send me daughters - When i asked for sons? - You’re the saddest bunch I ever met - But you can bet before we’re through - Mister, i’ll make a man out of you’

Fine Line - Harry Styles

“We’ll be a fine line - We’ll be a fine line - We’ll be alright - We’ll be alright’

Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

‘Don’t know if you love me or you want me dead - Push me away, push me away - Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay’

‘Fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet - Talk so pretty but your hearts got teeth’

Kiwi - Harry Styles

‘She worked her way through a cheap back of cigarettes- Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect’

Sign of the Times - Harry Styles

‘We never learn we’ve been here before - Why are we always stuck and running from - The bullets? The bullets?’

Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus

‘But she doesn’t know who I am - And she doesn’t give a damn about me - Cause i’m just a teenage dirt bag baby’

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

‘Wise men say “Only fools rush in” - But I can’t help falling in love with you - Shall I stay? - Would it be a sin? - If i can’t help, falling in love with you’

Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley

‘You look like an angel - Walk like an angel - Talk like an angel - But i got wise - You’re the devil in disguise’

Everlong - Foo Fighters

‘I’m over my head - Out of my head she sang - And I wonder, when I sing along with you - If everything could ever feel this way forever’

I’m Still Standing - Elton John

‘I’m still standing better than I ever did - Looking like a true survivor - Feeling like a little kid - And I’m still standing after all this time’

History of Man - Maisie Peters

‘He stole our youth and promised heaven - The men start wars yet Troy hates Helen - Women’s hearts are lethal weapons - Did you hold mine and feel threatened?’

Work Song - Hozier

‘When my time comes around - Lay me gently on the cold dark earth - No grave can hold my body down - I’ll crawl home to her’

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo

‘’Cause who am I, if not exploited - And i’m so sick of 17 - Where’s my fucking teenage dream?’

‘And I wished people liked me more - All I did was try my best - This the kind of thanks I get? - unrelentlessly upset’

Francesca - Hozier

‘My life was a storm since I was born - How could I fear any hurricane? - If someone asked me at the end - I’d tell them “put me back in it”’

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

‘There will come a soldier - Who carries a mighty sword - He will tear your city down - Oh lei - Oh lai - oh lord’

Honour to us all - Lea Salonga (mulan soundtrack)

‘Help me not to make a fool of me - And not uproot my family tree - Keep my father standing tall’

Reflection - Lea Salonga (mulan soundtrack)

‘Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me? - Why is my reflection someone I don’t know? - Somehow, I cannot hide who I am, though i’ve tried’

Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift

‘They say, she’s gone too far this time - Don’t blame me, love made me crazy’

Boys Will Be Bugs - Cavetown

‘I eat sticks and rocks and mud - I don’t care about the government - And i really need a hug - I feel stupid, ugly - Pretend it doesn’t bother me’

‘I’m not very strong but - I’ll fuck you up if you’re mean to bugs’

Two Birds - Regina Spektor

‘Two birds on a wire - one says come on - And the other says i’m tired’

‘Two birds of a feather - Say that they’re always - Gonna stay together - But one’s never goin’ to let go of that wire’

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

‘I like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings’

End Game - Taylor Swift

‘Big reputation, big reputation - Oh, you and me got big reputations - Ah, and you heard about me - Oh, I got some big enemies’

Seventeen Going Under - Sam Fender

‘I was far too scared to hit him - But i’d hit him in a heartbeat now - That’s the thing with anger - It begs to stick around’

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) - Edison Lighthouse

‘She talks kinda lazy - And people say she’s crazy - And her life’s a mystery - Oh, but live grows where my Rosemary goes’

I Love You So Much- The Walters

‘I’m gonna pack my things and leave you behind - This feeling’s old and I know that i’ve made up my mind - I hope you feel what i felt when you shattered me soul’

‘So, please let me go - But I love you so (please let me go) - I love you so (please let me go)

TAG LIST:

@malarkgirlypop @mads-weasley @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @grumpy-liebgott @executethyself35 @fxxiva

#band of brothers #babe heffron #ronald speirs #bandofbrothers #dick winters #eugene roe #george luz #hbowar #band of brothers #donald malarkey #hiraeth #winnie hayes oc

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puffpasstea · 1 year

Text

Help!

A/N: here’s an overly specific SATELLITE blurb about a situation I’m currently dealing with. Except, despite my best efforts, I don’t currently live with Harry Styles, so my thing in real life has a slightly different ending. Mostly writing this for myself, not gonna lie, lol. But I hope it can bring someone some comfort too.

summary: Alice can’t get her antidepressants and shit happens. This is the unglamorous, unromantic side of mental illness. warnings: mentions of mental illness, prescription meds, Harry being a supportive partner. —

I pushed my bangs off my forehead, dotting moisturizer onto the outlines of my face and rubbing it in. I could hear the faint sound of Harry’s singing, downstairs, in the kitchen. He’d clearly made it to The Beatles playlist, which means he’s making breakfast.

I need somebody (Help!)

not just anybody (Help!)

you know I need someone

heeelppp!

I closed my eyes, smiling, as I listened to him belt out alongside John Lennon on the speakers. He’d been on a Beatles kick lately. He and Mitch were rediscovering the Lennon-McCartney hits, but they got all flustered and weird whenever I said that their partnership was kind of similar, minus the years of toxic rivalry. this new found obsession gave me comfort, thought. It’d become something of a routine for Harry to listen to the same songs every morning. I loved hearing him sing along as I got ready for the day and tracking his activity by the song that he had reached.

I opened the medicine cabinet and reached for my morning meds. The bottle felt light, I was running low, so I made a mental note to call my psychiatrist later today. ———

Help me if you can, I’m feeling dowwwnnn

and I do appreciate you being ‘rounnndd

In the kitchen, Harry hummed to himself, flipping the omelette in the pan, and gyrating his hips the way he usually did onstage. He was still in his sweaty running clothes, but boy did he look good.

I stood in the doorway, watching him, and wondering how I got so lucky. He was perfect. Harry turned around, getting startled when he saw me, but not for long. The surprise immediately gave way to mischief. He smiled, raising an eyebrow and dancing his way towards me. With his body facing mine, he reached a hand behind him, turning the stove off, and then wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “Dance with me.” He demanded.

“W-what?” I laughed, kissing his lips. “You stink” “C’mon, Matilda, dance with me.”

Won’t you please, please help meee?!

—

I wasn’t the kind of person to congratulate herself very often, mostly because I always found faults within even my biggest accomplishments, but I must admit, I was proud of myself this time. for managing to remember the refill I needed, getting over my anxiety long enough to schedule the follow up without any external help, and even making sure it would get refilled while I still had a few pills in my older bottle. In all my years of being on antidepressants, this had never happened. I usually put off making the calls because of how anxious they all made me, waited until the last possible moment, when I was one pill away from running out, and then having to pay a whole lot of extra money for some temporary pills to tide me over. But, it appeared Harry’s encouragement and support were starting to rub off on me. For once, I had my shit together. Or so I thought. "I’m sorry what?! What do you mean you have no record of the prescription? No, it’s fine. I’ll call my doctor. Thank you.”

just my luck. I felt heart racing in my chest. My breath quickened, my hands felt clammy. I can’t do this…

—

“honey, I’m homeeee!” Harry’s voice announced in the distance. As always, he was back from his morning run and would probably want to make breakfast soon. I ran back upstairs and jumped into bed quickly, shutting my eyes and pretending to be asleep. Moments later, Harry walked in. “oh, she’s asleep.” He whispered to himself. He made his way over to my side of the bed, pulling the blankets over me and tucking me in. The scent of his sweaty workout hung in the air as he leaned over and gave my forehead a quick kiss. I’m a horrible person for lying to him…

—

“Babe? Hand me the salt please?” My hands shook as I reached into the spice cabinet and grabbed the salt container. I waited a moment for it to steady before turning towards Harry, but it was too late. He’d noticed. “What was that?” damn him and his attention to detail. “what was what?” Maybe if I pretended not to know what he’s talking about…

“Your hands are shaking. Look! Do you seriously not feel that?” The salt container slipped out of my hand and went crashing into the ground.

“fuck!” I jumped as the shards of glass hit my leg. “you alright?”

“yes, god! I’ll clean it up okay? Let it go already!”

Harry frowned, staring at me, no doubt confused by my overreaction.

I rushed to the broom and began to busy myself with cleanup, trying my best not to focus on the fact that Harry was still fixated on me.

“what’s the matter, Alice? Talk to me.”

shit. Now he wanted to talk.

when I said nothing, Harry walked over to me and grabbed the broom, prying it out of my hands and setting it aside. “Look at me. Why won’t you look at me? Alice! What’s going on with you?”

“nothing.” I whispered, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. “it’s clearly not nothing, baby.” His hand cupped my face, gently tilting it so my eyes would meet his. “Is - is this about the other night? Cuz, if it is…you know, I don’t care about that…it’s no big deal!”

“the other night?” It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh, god, no! Harry, no!” I pushed his hand off my face, turning away from him, and tiptoeing around the glass remains of the salt container to find a seat at the dining table. “so, you couldn’t cum. Big fuckin deal. Happens to the best of us! It’s no reason to be embarrassed, really.”

“Oh my god, shut up, Harry, will you” as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how rude I was being. “Sorry.”

Harry followed me, taking a seat next to me. He had clearly run out of things to say, so he stared at me expectantly, awaiting some kind of explanation.

“I, uh, look,” I cleared my throat. “Headaches, anxiety, dizziness, nausea, uncontrollable shaking, flu-like symptoms including chills and body aches, irritability, difficulty getting and maintaining arousal….” I was out of breath and positively blushing. So, I paused, looking away from Harry’s intense gaze. His brows furrowed, shaking his head in confusion.

“these are all symptoms of withdrawal.” I said matter-of-factly.

“sorry, withdrawal?”

“from my antidepressants.”

“you- you haven’t been taking your meds?” His expression had now changed from confusion to concern.

“I haven’t been able to!” The frustration that I’d been refusing to confront for days now bubbled to the surface. I exhaled loudly, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“Why, why not?”

“I’ve run out….and, I don’t know. I called my doctor. She said she sent the prescription over to the pharmacy, but-“ I was full on sobbing now. harry, to his credit, jumped right into action, pulling me out of my chair and onto his lap, rubbing my back. I let myself cry for a second before catching my breath and speaking again “every time I call the pharmacy they say I need to tell her to do it again. And, I- I tried. Her secretary doesn’t- she doesn’t-“

“breathe, baby, breathe.” Harry squeezed my shoulders gently.

“I keep trying to explain to her, but she doesn’t get it. And I’m so bad at this confrontation thing…I get so anxious and….”

I buried my face into Harry chest, sobbing like a child. He sat there, completely still except for the hand that continued to rub my back soothingly.

“honey, why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asked when my cries had died down.

“it’s embarrassing, Harry! It’s, like, so dumb. I should be able to do this one thing by myself. I didn’t know how to tell you that I’d failed to obtain a simple fucking refill.”

“‘S not dumb-“

“oh but it is!! Why would you wanna be with someone who can’t sort out her own problems and cries all over your clothes at the most minor of inconveniences. How exhausting is that?!”

“Baby, this isn’t minor.” The hand that had been rubbing my back suddenly stopped. He used to to pull me away so he could look into my eyes as he spoke. “Alice, you need this medicine to function. How are you supposed to sort it out on your own if literally you can’t function? Hmm? This isn’t like your vitamins or whatever. Miss a day and it’s no big deal…this is like the biggest deal!”

hearing him explain it made everything sound logical, in my head, though, I felt like a helpless idiot who could get dumped for mentioning it out loud. “does that make sense? Plus, it’s what I’m here for. You can tell me these things, baby. I can help. I can call on your behalf and sort it out.”

I nodded, wiping the stray tears in my eyes with the back of my arm. “Guess I just don’t know how to ask for help, sometimes.”

“It’s simple, really, you can just say ‘help! I need somebody…help! Not just any body’” I rolled my eyes, shoving my elbow into his chest.

Harry laughed, continuing to sing. “Help! I need someone. heeeelp!”

“alright, John Lennon. I get it. So, could you please help me?” “it would be my pleasure.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles blurb

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alyxovert · 2 years

Note

can you do one based off the new harry styles album?

HARRY’S HOUSE STARTERS

elysian • (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful & perfect

music for a sushi restaurant

→ ,,you’re sweet ice cream.“

→ ,,i want you.“

→ ,,i love you, babe. in every kind of way.“

→ ,,music for whatever you want.“

→ ,,could we live with just a taste?“

late night talking

→ ,,thing’s haven’t quite been the same…“

→ ,,i’ll do everything i can to help you through.“

→ ,,i just wanna make you happier.“

→ ,,i can’t get you off my mind.“

→ ,,i’ve never been a fan of change.“

grapejuice

→ ,,i was on my way to buy some flowers for you.“

→ ,,but i got over it..“

→ ,,there’s just no getting through without you.“

→ ,,you’re always there, so don’t overthink.“

→ ,,just me and you.“

as it was

→ ,,why don’t we leave it at that?“

→ ,,in this world, it’s just us.“

→ ,,nobody’s coming to help.“

→ ,,he just wants to know that you’re well.“

→ ,,i don’t wanna talk about the way that it was.“

daylight

→ ,,you never listen.“

→ ,,i hope you’re missing me by now.“

→ ,,ain’t gonna sleep till the daylight.“

→ ,,there’s life out there.“

→ ,,you ain’t got time for me right now.“

little freak

→ ,,somehow, you’ve become some paranoia.“

→ ,,i was thinkin’ about who you are.“

→ ,,just thinkin’ about you.“

→ ,,i spilled beer on your friend, i’m not sorry.“

→ ,,i disrespected you.“

matilda

→ ,,it’s no big deal.“

→ ,,you don’t have to be sorry for leavin’ and growin’ up.“

→ ,,it’s none of my business, but it’s been on my mind.“

→ ,,you don’t have to go.“

→ ,,i know they won’t hurt you anymore.“

cinema

→ ,,i’m not gettin’ over it.“

→ ,,i guess you’re all mine.“

→ ,,i just think you’re cool.“

→ ,,am i too into you?“

→ ,,i want all of you.“

daydreaming

→ ,,give me all of your love.“

→ ,,give me something to dream about.“

→ ,,stay until the morning.“

→ ,,it just feels right.“

→ ,,lovin’ you’s the real thing.“

keep driving

→ ,,jump off the roof.“

→ ,,should we just keep driving?“

→ ,,i will always love you.“

→ ,,choke her with a sea view.“

→ ,,just act normal.“

satellite

→ ,,am i bothering you?“

→ ,,don’t you know that i am right here?“

→ ,,i can see you’re lonely down there.“

→ ,,i don’t wanna talk to you.“

→ ,,give me a day or two.“

boyfriends

→ ,,fool, you’re back at it again.“

→ ,,they take you for granted.“

→ ,,they don’t know.“

→ ,,he don’t wanna be alone.“

→ ,,you know the game’s never ending.“

love of my life

→ ,,you were the love of my life.“

→ ,,maybe you don’t know what’s lost till you find it.“

→ ,,it’s not what i wanted, to leave you behind.“

→ ,,it’s unfortunate.“

→ ,,i won’t pretend that i’ve been doin’ everything i can.“

been a while since i got a request done, albeit late. i don’t know how to feel.

thank you, anon! for the request… and for giving me a good reason to finally listen to the album. it’s honestly rare for me to find an album and like every song on there, so this was a great surprise.

[requests : open]

damn i need to finish my other requests

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ti-the-huffle-witch · 2 years

Text

Since Harry's House came out, I have come to the conclusion that Matilda is my favorite song. So I listen to it on repeat every day.

I want you to imagine me, a 5'2, 22 yrs old genderqueer goblin, listening to Matilda for the actual 600th time that day, while painting my diy tarot card deck, as one does, and a half thought pops in your head and instead of pushing it aside, I noticed it and ran with it, allowing it to take up my time.

Allow me to explain why I believe Matilda is actually about Zayn. Hear me out.

"You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal", and you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels, nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now, so you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal"

Zayn tried to pretend everything was oki while he was in the band, even though he was obviously going through a lot of shit. Yet he continued to smile and act as if nothing was wrong. Harry admitted that he started going to therapy and working on all the trauma from his past, including from being in One Direction. It's very possible Zayn would be a topic he would be working on. And now that he's older, wiser, more mature, he's starting to really see what drove Zayn away.

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside, you showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days, it's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

After Zayn left, he was constantly asked why he left and all that good shit. He would simply say for his mental health and say he never wanted to be in a band and wasn't happy in the band but accepted the opportunity when it presented itself. But he never really gave a lot of details. The boys would be the only ones that would know just how hurt Zayn was. But after he left Zayn found himself and was happy again. Harry saw that. He saw that he could find himself again and be happy again and still do what he loves.

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast, you framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh, you don't have to go, you don't have to go home, oh, there's a long way to go, I don't believe that time will change your mind, in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

In his house, as we've seen through Gigi, Zayn has used some as his own art as house decor. And his clothing style has changed since his days in 1D. Harry might be trying to say that if Zayn wanted to, he could come back to 1D with the line 'you're just in time, make your tea and your toast'. But then says it's oki if he doesn't want to come back to the band, using home as a symbol for 1D. Saying that the things that hurt him in the past can't hurt anymore if he doesn't give them the power to.

You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know, and not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

Harry wants him to know its oki to let his past go. That he has every right to cut off anything and everyone that hurt him or might remind him of his trauma. He can celebrate his success with others but not included his 'family', referring to their management team and Harry and the other lads, since it was the management team that made him feel like he wasn't anything more than a way to make millions, and the lads for not being able to comfort and protect him, and possibly if they also had made him feel like they didn't care at all. And he doesn't want Zayn to feel bad for leaving the band and growing up and maturing and for doing what was best for himself, and that Harry isn't mad or hurt about it anymore cause he can see it now.

You can see the world, following the seasons, anywhere you go, you don't need a reason, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

He wants Zayn to understand that he can do what he wants and do what he wants and he doesn't owe anyone an explanation cause he got to where he is now all on his own and he doesn't owe anyone else credit for his success.

You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know, you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know, you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry, no

These last two parts are basically the same as before but Harry's saying that he's proud and happy for Zayn for finally feeling stable enough to settle down with the person he loves and starting a family and that Zayn finally has a family that will love him unconditionally and defend him and protect him and the support system that he deserves and the support system that he and the other boys should have been when Zayn needed them. And if Zayn still feels like he owes the boys an apology for leaving and searching, and finding, what he needed and deserved when he couldn't find it within the band, within the 4 boys who were supposed to be just like brothers to him, then Harry needs him to let that feeling go and see that he and the others, and even us fans, are not owed anything and that he never has to apologize for protecting himself.

Matilda was Harry's apology for being cold and angry with Zayn for leaving, his way of forgiving him even though there was nothing to forgive, and his way of letting Zayn know how happy and how massively proud he is of the person Zayn is now.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Ilysm 🤍

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