Charlie Puth, Last Night In Foxwoods

This is Liam. Always giving to the fans. Always loving us. Always and flawless performance. These acoustic versions you can hear him so well. Rest well my ❤️

Rio de Janeiro, June 2018

The urge to be his 'little' girl is real

Please 🙏 one chance

I need a sticker for surviving 2023 so I made one and thought I’d share it with you all too. Reblog to give everyone stickerssss

Harry filming the Daylight mv and shelving it for an entire year, waiting for the very end of tour to drop because the narrative is a ring leader (Harry) leading a circus (his fans) doing all these things just to perform his wacky talents and bring them happiness and keep them together as a unique family and to reassure them that at the end of the day, no matter what happens, they have him and he has them. A perfect and painfully emo way to say goodbye to an era.

I like my men older, grumpy & fictional 😏

+ Spencer Reid

I love grumprry so much

sunshine (part 3)

In which y/n just wants to get this whole virginity thing out of the way, and Harry needs to grovel a bit before she forgives him.

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Y/n is drunk. 

She doesn’t know who’s apartment she’s in, or what the drink in her cup is. She also doesn’t know where Maddie is, or how she’s going to get home tonight. All she knows is that she’s sad and drunk, standing alone in some random kitchen while a party goes on on the other side of the door.

It had been Maddie’s idea to take y/n out partying tonight. She saw y/n’s tear stained cheeks as soon as she walked through the door, and had immediately coaxed her sad roommate into her arms. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked y/n, pulling back and staring into y/n’s teary eyes. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

Y/n didn’t want to talk about it. She was too embarrassed to admit what happened, cringing everytime she remembered the way her heart broke when Harry laughed at her. She just wanted to forget about it. 

Maddie’s solution was going out and drinking. Y/n hesitantly agreed, as her other option would have been to lay in bed and cry, and that just seemed really sad and pathetic.

Now that she’s here though, her bed sounds a lot better than this party.

She’d taken three shots with Maddie and had been feeling fine for the first 15 minutes she was there – but then Maddie had been whipped away by a group of her friends, and y/n was left alone. The shots started to get to her, making her wobbly on her feet, and her head started to hurt from the flashing lights and pounding music. 

This really wasn’t her scene, and it didn’t help that she was all alone. 

She stumbled over to the makeshift bar looking for a drink, preferably water. But apparently there was no water anywhere in this college apartment, so she’d been given some spiked lemonade instead by some shirtless frat guy who had appointed himself as this party’s bartender. 

This was a terrible idea.

She just needed somewhere quiet to be sad! She hates having to walk past all the groups of people crammed into this living room. It’s hot and stuffy here and she feels dizzy and her eyes are dry from how much she cried before she got here. Someone steps on her foot, which makes her stumble sideways, and then she bumps into some tall girl who glares at her meanly and it makes y/n feel horrible and miserable and stressed out. 

She spends 10 minutes looking for Maddie, and though she fails to find her roommate, she does find an empty, quiet kitchen. She huffs out a sigh of relief. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. 

With her watered down, kinda gross, alcoholic lemonade in hand, she hops onto the kitchen countertop and swings her legs sadly. As hard as she may try, she is not a party girl at heart. She always ends up wanting to leave, and she always ends up feeling kinda lonely. 

And (honestly) she does not enjoy being drunk that much. It makes her wobbly and extra emotional. And it also makes her tummy turn a little bit. And her head is starting to pound on top of the way it’s spinning. 

She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the cabinets. She would give anything to just be back in her room with her books.

Someone bursts into the kitchen, and it makes y/n open her eyes with a startled jump. She stares at the person awkwardly as they totally walk past her, completely unaware that y/n was even in the kitchen at all. 

The kitchen newcomer is someone that she vaguely recognizes as one of Maddie’s friends – Jared, maybe? – she briefly wonders if he might know where her roommate is. 

Jared walks to the pantry and rummages through, retrieving a bag of BBQ chips which he pops open and starts devouring. The way he crunches and munches on the chips makes y/n cringe, but she says nothing and just sips her drink quietly. She hopes she can just go unnoticed…

Jared opens the fridge and the refrigerator light fills the dark kitchen, illuminating y/n’s silhouette. Jared finally notices her. 

“Yo…” he says, eyeing her up and down. “Y/n, right?”

She nods awkwardly, sipping her drink again. She’s gonna drink herself to oblivion simply because of all these nervous sips. 

“What’s up!” he says enthusiastically, putting the bag of chips down and wiping his crumby hands on his pants. 

“Um, nothing much,” she squeaks out. “Do you– do you know where Maddie is?” 

“Oh yeah, I was just with her outside! We got the munchies so m’getting us some snacks.” Y/n nods. At least she knows where Maddie is now. “What’re you doing in here all alone?” Jared asks. 

“I’m— um. Just wanted some quiet time, I guess.” She chews on the inside of her mouth nervously. 

“I was surprised when Maddie said you were here today…” Jared takes a step forward, standing right in front of her knees, “we don’t get to see you enough. You’re always hiding when we come over.”

She chuckles nervously. Another sip from her drink, no matter how gross it tastes.

Jared reaches a hand out to rest on y/n’s thigh. Her eyes bulge out of her head, her drunk head a little too woozy to comprehend what’s going on. His hand feels sweaty and invasive, unlike Harry’s… who felt warm and soft. 

Ugh. Harry. Stupid Harry. She pushes him out of her mind.

“You should hang out with us more…” Jared continues, using his hand to spread her legs so that he can step between them. Y/n, loose limbed and sluggish from the drinks, just lets it happen. It’s weird and kind of uncomfortable… but she has yet to formulate a true reaction. “I think we’d vibe…”

I think we’d vibe? Is that boy code for something? She blinks at Jared with tired eyes. She really just wants to be in her bed right now. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jared asks. Huh??? The confusion on y/n’s face must be apparent, because he chuckles and bites his lip. He has this weird look in his eyes that y/n thinks is supposed to be sultry but just makes him look kind of dumb. “Come on… it’d be fun.”

“Umm…” y/n is so confused. She hadn’t realized that this is where her conversation with Jared had been going, but now she feels like it’s obvious. His hands on her legs and then I think we’d vibe. This was Jared… making a move?

Normally, y/n would be repulsed at the thought of it. This would be nothing more than a drunk hookup with someone she doesn’t know or trust. She’d never do that! She’d push him away, and walk straight out of the kitchen without a second thought, because Jared is gross and y/n has standards. 

But that was old, romantic y/n. Present y/n is different.

“Ok,” she says simply. How bad could it be? It’s not like she’s saving her first kiss for someone special anymore. And maybe this time, she won’t bring up the fact that she’s a virgin! She’ll just go all the way, get it over with, and then nobody will be able to laugh at her–

Jared’s hot, wet lips make contact with y/n’s mouth. He tastes like barbeque chips and beer. His tongue immediately forces its way past her lips, licking into her mouth, and his hands unceremoniously migrate from her legs to her ass. He’s not gentle as he starts groping her ass, and y/n’s eyebrows furrow together uncomfortably. 

She tries to reciprocate the kiss – it had been so easy when it was with Harry! – but Jared kisses like a fish, his mouth agape while he sucks on her lips uncomfortably. His lips feel hard and tense, unlike Harry’s gentle kiss and soft, pink, candy lips. He groans as if he’s turned on and grinds his dick against y/n’s center.

Y/n can’t take it anymore. She pulls her lips off of Jared, too grossed out to even pretend to be into this kiss. Her mouth feels like it was invaded, and she’s realizing that her drunk brain has made a terrible lapse in judgment.

There was no way she’d be able to hook up with this guy, let alone kiss him for any longer! She was insane for even considering losing her virginity to some random guy. That’s just not her. She’s not random or spontaneous… she’s nervous and insecure and needs to feel loved and cherished when her first time comes around. Not … used and gross, the way she’s feeling now. And definitely not when she’s too out of it to even walk straight. 

She massively is starting to regret kissing Jared, and uses her hands to push him off.

“Um… I don’t–” Jared starts kissing down her neck, and y/n shrugs away. His kisses feel like a slobbery pitbull drooling all over her throat. “Let’s stop,” she says.

Jared either doesn’t hear her or just ignores her, now dry humping y/n. It feels gross and prepubescent, little ruts of this guy's dick against her most intimate region. When Harry had done it, it had been welcome. It had been Harry! The cute guy who would come sit in her room when there’s a party going on and would help her with math! But this is so… gross. She barely even knows this guy, and he’s making her feel yucky and wrong and uncomfortable.

She hates this – all of it – and tries to close her legs, but Jared’s hips are still between her thighs so she can’t. Her stomach is rolling, the aftertaste of Jared’s barbeque flavored tongue sitting in her mouth, and she’s feeling overwhelmed. “Stop,” she mumbles again, her hands pushing harder on his shoulders. 

“Hm, why?” Jared whispers, coming back up to kiss the corner of her mouth. She can smell the alcohol on his gross, hot breath, and she turns her head to the side, dodging him. 

“I don’t– I’m not–” she stammers over her words. Her cheeks are turning hot and she’s squeezing her eyes shut to try and regain composure. Jared is licking her earlobe now, and it feels horrible. She pushes harder. 

Neither of them hear Harry entering the kitchen.

He’d been lingering around the apartment quietly, the way he usually does at parties. His friends had noticed that he’s in a particularly bad mood tonight for some reason – but Harry doesn’t say anything about it. He just sulked quietly among the groups of people. 

Maddie had stomped her way over to him at some point that night, and grilled him for why y/n had come over so upset that day. “Harry!” she huffed, “What’d you do? Did you make y/n cry?”

His frown deepened, “She was crying?” 

“Yes!” Maddie blows her hair out of her face. “She was all sad and mopey. I brought her here for a good time but she was still pouty after, like, three shots. I thought you were helping her with math, what happened?” 

“She’s here?” Harry turns alert. He sits up, his brows furrowed in his grumpy way, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Where?”

Maddie shrugs. “I dunno. I lost her like an hour ago.”

He was up and searching for her immediately. He checked the bathrooms and all the empty rooms, walked around the apartment with attentive eyes, checked within the huddles of people to see if y/n was hanging around them. 

His last hope was the kitchen – but even then, it didn’t seem like she was in there. Just a couple making out, something that he didn’t want to impose on. He was just about to leave, when he heard the smallest, familiar voice, squeaking out stop. He looks a little closer. 

His heart stops when he realizes it’s y/n. 

“What are you doing?” Harry quickly steps forward, tugging Jared off of y/n.

Y/n snaps her legs shut now that Jared has been removed from between her thighs, while Jared turns around to face Harry with his hands in the air. “What the fuck, man?” Jared spits out.

“She said stop,” Harry fumes, taking a protective step in front of y/n. 

“Bro, fuck off, it’s none of your business–” he tries to reach a hand towards y/n, but Harry blocks him. “Do you know this guy?” Jared asks y/n.

She gives a disgruntled nod. She’s half thankful to see him because he interrupted that awful kiss with Jared, but the other half is sad and embarrassed and filled with the insecurity she felt when she’d left Harry’s apartment. When he’d kissed her and then laughed at her. 

“Get out,” Harry grunts to Jared, nodding his head to the door. His eyes are dark and mean, and even in the low light of the kitchen, Jared can tell that Harry is not the guy to mess with. 

“Whatever,” Jared scoffs, leaving the kitchen.

Harry turns around. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Y/n ignores him, hopping off the kitchen counter. Her left foot, however, has fallen asleep and twists underneath her weight painfully when she lands on the ground. Harry reflexively wraps his hand around her waist so that she doesn’t fall, and pulls her into his chest. 

“Hey, hey–” she tries to regain her footing, but this time the drinks in her system make her wobble side to side. Harry’s grip on her tightens, “Stop.” 

“Let go,” she whines, wriggling in his hold, “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

He lets go when she asks, not wanting her to feel scared or uncomfortable since she looks so out of it, but stands in front of her firmly, eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” she sniffles.

“Who’s taking you?” he asks again, taking a step to the side to block her when she tries to walk around him.

She’s silent for a second, trying to figure out her options. “I’ll walk,” she decides.

He lets out an exasperated breath. “Y’can’t walk home right now.” She’s way too out of it, and it’s probably over a 30 minute walk. “Let me drive you.” 

“No,” she pouts, trying to brush past him again. “I’m not talking to you.” 

“M’sorry,” he sighs, “M’sorry for making you upset, I-I didn’t mean to.” He’d been confused when she’d left him so abruptly (he’d still been catching his breath and calming his heart from that kiss when she ran off), and dismayed when he found out he’d made her cry. His eyes are earnest and pleading, “please let me drive you home.”

She wipes her eyes, a few sad tears hanging on her lashes that she refuses to let fall. “Fine.”

But only because it’s cold outside and her head hurts and she’s too scared to walk home at night.

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“Are you cold?”

Y/n ignores Harry, staring out of the passenger’s side window while they’re stopped at a red light. 

“Y/n?”

Still no response. He sighs frustratedly. She’s obviously cold, with goosebumps on her skin and shivering in her seat. He reaches to the back seat and grabs one of his sweaters that he’d worn to class earlier, throwing it in her lap. “You can’t just ignore me all night.”

Y/n swallows thickly, eyeing the sweater in her lap, but refuses to put it on no matter how cold she is. “I’m fine.”

Harry looks over to her. She’s clearly not fine. 

Her voice sounds strained and teary, and he can practically feel the lump in her throat. She’s on the verge of tears, sitting in his car with glossy eyes, chewing the inside of her lip, a habit he’s noticed she only does when she’s sad or anxious. 

“Tell me what I did wrong, please. Talk to me.”

The first tear falls from her lashes. She’d done so good, holding in her emotions all night, not crying even though she was drunk and miserable! 

But Harry sounds so earnest and desperate. She wants to trust him, wants to revel in the comfort she only feels in his presence. But she can’t stop replaying the way he laughed at her in her head. 

“Please,” he begs. 

Her resolved crumbles. “You– you laughed at me,” She takes a shuddery breath, trying not to start sobbing. “When I told you I was a virgin. You thought it was funny.” 

Realization dawns on him, “oh, sunshine…”

“But it’s not funny. It’s normal!,” she continues, “ Like, I-I just want it to mean a lot.. I need it to be with someone I like, someone I trust. I can’t do casual, I’m-I’m not like that.” She wipes her tears away furiously, “and you laughed at me when I told you that!” 

“I wasn’t laughing at you!” he says desperately, but she huffs and rolls her eyes. The tears are falling freely at this point and he’s dying to wipe them away. He’s annoyed that the light turns green, forcing himself to look at the road and keep his hands on the wheel when all he wants is to hold y/n’s hands. “I-I get it, I’m sorry, that was dickish of me to laugh, but I wasn’t laughing at you!”

“Yes you were,” she grumbles petulantly, “You literally laughed in my face.” 

“No,” They pull up to a stop sign and he glances over at her, “I was just… surprised! Cos you know… I just didn’t expect it. You’re cute and nice and I just… I was surprised. I thought you were just, like, playing a joke on me.” 

“Well, I wasn’t,” she huffs in her seat, crossing her arms angrily and staring out the window again.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says again. He looks over at her sadly, his heart aching. He wants it all to be right again, he can’t handle having her cry. “I get it… wanting to wait for someone special. I wouldn’t laugh at that– I think trust is the most important part.”

She sniffles, but stays quiet. 

It’s a few minutes later when she sadly squeaks out, “you were my first kiss, too.” 

Harry’s heart breaks in his chest. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna fix this.

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He parks in front of her apartment building when they get there, and rushes out of his seat to open y/n’s door for her. 

He tries to help her get out, offering his hand like a gentleman, but she refuses him and hops out of the car all by herself. She struggles to stay upright, though, desperately holding herself up with the car door as she stumbles, still pretty drunk and discombobulated. 

At some point during the car ride she decided to suck it up and put on Harry’s sweatshirt. Not because it was comforting and smelt like him. Just because it was cold outside. 

He follows behind her as she stomps up the stairs to her apartment door, and stands patiently for the next three minutes as she fumbles with her keys, trying to fit them in the lock. When she (as he expected) fails to open the door, she angrily shoves the keys into his hands and stands off to the side with crossed arms. 

He doesn’t find himself offended by her grumpy behavior. He deserves it, he supposes. Plus, it’s not that hard to deal with her angry huffs and little stomps and furrowed eyebrows. 

She’s a much cuter grump than he is, that’s for sure.

He unlocks the door for her and holds it open, and she beelines for her bathroom. She needs to brush her teeth immediately or else she might throw up from that horrible kiss. And her mascara is getting all clumpy and making her eyes sting. 

Harry goes to her kitchen, grabbing a pack of Advil that’s just sitting on the counter after filling up a glass of water for y/n from the Brita in the fridge. He hears a loud bang and a whiny owwwww from y/n’s bathroom, and chuckles to himself. She’s like a little clumsy baby deer. 

He remembers the last time, how many times she’d stumbled over herself, how many times she’d almost tripped and landed on her face. How he’d accidentally walked in on her changing last time. How sweet and soft she looked, tucked into her bed with her little stuffed bunny. 

He shakes his head to himself. He undoubtedly has a soft spot for her. She’s wriggled her way into his heart and melted him into a heart shaped puddle. He… he doesn’t ever want to see her cry again. He just wants to hold her, keep her safe, tuck her inside of his pocket and make sure she’s happy forever and ever. 

She’s sunshine. She doesn’t deserve to be sad.

This time, he knocks before he lets himself into her room, giving her ten seconds to compose herself before peeking his head in. His eyebrows crinkle when his eyes land on y/n.

“Why’re you on the floor?” he asks, quickly putting the water and tiny red painkiller on her bedside table.

“I dropped my earring,” she pouts, not looking up at him. She’s on her knees, patting around herself and desperately searching for the butterfly shaped studs she’d been wearing that night. She sounds like she’s about to burst into tears, “I-I can’t find it.” 

Harry sees it glimmering behind her. He kneels down next to her and picks it up, holding it in front of her face. “This?” Her wide eyes glimmer as she nods, taking it from him and walking on her knees all the way over to her desk to put it in her little heart shaped jewelry dish. 

She’s already nicely dressed in her pj’s (a fuzzy pair of pink pants paired with a tank top so that she wouldn’t overheat tonight) and she’s finished her drunk girl night routine (no skin care – just a makeup wipe and messily brushing her teeth), exhausted and ready for bed. 

Harry holds out a hand to help her up from the floor. This time, she doesn’t resist. She’s tuckered out, too sleepy to maintain this grudge. All she wants is her bed.

Harry’s hand feels warm as her smaller hand wraps around his palm, and she lets herself be pulled up by him and guided to her bed. He lifts up her blankets for her and uses a steady hand on her hip to ensure that she doesn’t fall sideways while she climbs into her bed. He tucks her in, pulling her duvet up to her chest, and without her having to ask, he picks up the little stuffed bunny who lays sadly at the foot of her bed. 

She watches him with round eyes as he kneels down next to her bed, tucking the little bunny in right next to her. Her skin looks soft and dewy, her hair framing her face in delicate wisps. She stares at Harry with wide, unwavering eyes, still glossy and red-rimmed from all the tears she shed today. 

He hates himself for being the cause of them. It takes everything in him not to lean forward, brush the hair out of her face, and kiss her sad, pouted lips. 

 “All good?” he asks instead.

Her fingers wrap around her stuffed animal gently, and she gives a shy nod. 

He smiles, “Okay.” His eyes are soft and caring, a wonderful contrast to the last time he tucked her into bed, when he’d been so gruff and stoic. Y/n has always found herself easily distracted by his pretty green eyes. They used to be so dark and mysterious, back before he’d started tutoring her. Before he’d kissed her. But now, there’s a glimmer in them that makes her feel warm. 

There’s just a certain softness to him tonight… one that she hasn’t ever witnessed. Her heart glows in her chest when his hand reaches out to rest on her arm gently. She loves the way his palm feels on her skin, loves looking into his eyes and seeing him stare right back at her. He gives her arm a soft, reassuring squeeze, and starts to stand up. 

Y/n takes a sudden breath. “Harry?” she quietly calls out his name. 

“Hm?” He pauses immediately. His name sounds wonderful falling from her lips. He wants to hear it over and over again. 

“Can… can you stay?” Her fingers twist around the bunny’s ears nervously. “Just for a little bit.”

He’s frozen for a second. She bites the inside of her lip nervously. She knows that he cares – she can feel it – but still, she braces herself for the sting of rejection. 

“Yeah.” He sits himself down on her bed, and finally lets himself brush her hair out of her face. “I can stay,” he murmurs. 

She exhales softly, a puff of relief floating in the air in front of her. Her eyelashes flutter shut as his fingers softly graze her forehead, then down to trace the apple of her cheek. He smiles as she nuzzles her face closer to his hand, silently asking for more affection. Like a little kitten, he thinks as he cups her cheek with his palm, petting her softly and smoothing her hair back. 

She smiles contentedly to herself. She can’t even remember why she’d been so insistent on refusing Harry’s help tonight, why she’d ignored him in the car and fought his offers to drive her home. 

This moment… it’s perfect. She could stay here with Harry forever. She snuggles into her duvet and pulls her bunny closer to her chest.

Harry stays there, petting her hair and staring at her sweetly, until her breathing evens out and the smile slowly fades from her face. 

That night, y/n dreams of curly brown hair and green eyes. Visions of warm hands and gentle touches cloud her mind, with flashes of sweet words and the name sunshine falling from rosy pink lips. 

She also dreams of a soft kiss being pressed to her cheek, and the feeling of chocolate curls brushing against her face while a deep voice murmurs goodnight against her skin. 

That part wasn’t 100% just a dream, though. 

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A vanilla iced latte with oat milk is gently placed in y/n’s line of vision, just a few inches away from where she’s tapping her apple pen against the library desk. She looks up, confused. 

The latte bringer is Harry, his pretty curls covered by a beanie. 

 “I saw you studying.” His green eyes glimmer as he swipes his finger across his nose. “Thought you might want a treat. To keep you motivated.” 

“Oh…” she puts down her pencil, and sits up a bit straighter. “Thanks,” she smiles nervously.

He nods. The air is tense. They haven’t seen each other in a few days, the last time being when he brought her home and stayed in her room until she fell asleep. She’d woken up alone, with only the remnants of his boyish scent lingering on her sheets… but her heart had felt full. 

She remembers him apologizing, and she remembers his earnest eyes and how he’d begged her to tell him what he did wrong so he could make it right. And she, of course, remembers how he’d tucked her into bed, and how his hand had cupped her cheek.

But, even despite his kind eyes and peace-treaty latte, she still feels nervous around him – especially now that she’s stone cold sober. Drunk y/n had been perfectly fine leaving everything in the past and snuggling into Harry’s touch, but sober y/n is obviously an overthinker. 

How was she supposed to act, when Harry had given her the best first kiss ever and also made her cry for hours straight right after? What was she supposed to say, when he’d rescued her from her failed attempt of a casual hook up and then driven her home and tucked her into bed with her stuffed bunny?

“Do you want to sit?” she asks. 

He nods, immediately taking a seat next to her. She takes a sip of her latte, and it’s perfect. It’s exactly what she would’ve ordered for herself. 

“Your midterm is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Harry fidgets in his seat, nervously using his thumb to pinch at the skin of his pointer finger.

She nods. “M’nervous.” The past five hours have been spent at the library, doing more practice problems. 

“You studied really hard. I think you’ll do well.” She must’ve finished all the problems in the textbook by now, Harry thinks. Y/n shrugs in her seat, looking down at her latte discouragedly. “I mean it,” Harry emphasizes, ducking his head down to catch her eye.

“I’m just worried I’ll make some stupid mistakes. Or that I’ll blank and forget the trig rules.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” he says. His hand moves forward, as if he wants to reach for her hand, but he holds himself back and just rests it on the table. “You’ll overthink it and start freaking out. Just pretend like you’re doing more practice problems instead of a test. You were doing fine when we were studying together last week.” 

They both pause, remembering that study session. The one that ended in a kiss and tears. 

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. Y/n takes a sip from her latte. 

Neither of them acknowledge the awkward incident. 

“Just imagine you’re in my room doing problems again. Don’t stress out too much. You’ve got this.”

She nods, sighing heavily. Harry watches her fingers as she fiddles with a ring that she’s wearing on her middle finger. 

“Thanks for driving me home, by the way,” she peeps. “The other night.” 

He nods, “of course.” She’s opened the floodgates, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The magnificent kiss, y/n running away, Harry finding her at the party, driving her home, then staying with her until she fell asleep. “Do you… do you remember anything that happened that night? After the party?” 

She doesn’t know if he’s referring to his apology in the car, or how he’d stayed in her bed and brushed his fingers through her hair as she fell asleep. Either way, she remembers. Her voice comes out barely over a whisper, “yeah.” 

He nods, eyes flickering down to his own hands. “I meant it,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Everything I said. I shouldn’t have laughed, I- I didn’t mean to…” He shakes his head to himself. “It was stupid, and m’sorry. I hate that I hurt you… that I like– ruined the moment–” 

“It’s fine–” she stammers, trying to brush it off. She doesn’t want it to be a big deal, she’s already embarrassed and bringing it up again just makes her want to… crawl in a hole. 

He sits up straighter, “it’s not fine. I was a dick.” He looks into her eyes, “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

She blinks at him.

“Please let me make it up to you.” His hand, resting on the table, inches closer to her. 

Harry cares… she can feel it. She can see it in his eyes, in his small mannerisms. She’s not making it up – it’s real. It feels warm and wonderful, like she’s a flower and sitting in the warm embrace of the sun.

Y/n can’t help but softly smile to herself. “Okay,” she whispers.

She slides her hands forward, and their fingers brush in the middle of the table. 

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part 3 hope u loved it :( epilogue is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (aug 12) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u think and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!

sunshine (epilogue) - In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

sunshine masterlist

my roman empire