Advice For Writing Relationships

Starving is NOT an option when you're my friend!

Little things that help moods:

- getting enough sunshine - opening the curtains - eating regular meals - short walks with your favourite music - don’t stay up until 3am - don’t try to relate to negative tumblr text posts - get off tumblr/social media if it’s unhealthy - shower - don’t stay in bed the whole day - plan out your day - listen to music - change your clothes - set yourself small goals - say yes to fun events - drink water, it takes 5 seconds - talk to a close friend - remind yourself: a bad mood can lie to you - you’re not unwanted or hopeless - you deserve love so be nice to yourself

“When you love someone, when you care for someone, you have to do it through the good and the bad. Not just when you’re happy and it’s easy.”

— Lauren Olivier

Being a woman holds value. Know your worth and don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise, ladies. 💕✨

Eu nunca fui muito bom em falar de mim, por mais que eu sinta às vezes que só faço isso, eu nunca fui muito bom em lidar com fins, talvez por isso dizem tanto que eu fujo de compromisso.

Zant

Plssss y/n and harry are at a party that is full of celebrities including The Weeknd (God I love him) and Harry finds out he has dated y/n. (y/n not famous, she is a normal person) lmao I need to see Harry all jealous

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

With a laugh, you slide from the barstool as he approaches, arms finding their way around his neck as he pulls you in for a long overdue hug.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he murmurs, squeezing at your hips once before letting go.

You brush the hair from your face as you lean back, fighting a rather large smile. “Harry invited me,” you tell him, nodding your chin toward the sulking man on the stool behind you. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here?”

Abel laughs, arms crossing in front of his chest. “I didn’t either, but something told me to come out tonight and I guess…now I know why.”

“Please,” you snort, clocking the suggestive look in his eye, but blushing, nonetheless. He always knew the way to your heart was flattery, and you can’t deny that you’re pleased to see your old friend. “How’ve you been?”

He launches into an explanation of his wild week, and you nod appreciatively, listening to each detail as he recalls it. 

You’re excited to see him, having not really heard from him for a few months, although you suppose you understand why. 

But no matter the reason for the disappearance, you give him your undivided attention, happy for the brief connection.

It’s not until Abel begins describing the hassle going on with his label that you feel a familiar arm snake its way around your hip. 

With a subtle tug, you find yourself now sitting firmly on a lap. Harry’s lap, to be specific. And you know him well enough to know the pressure of his fingertips along your hip is indicative of his annoyance.

You smirk, letting your hand rest over top his as Abel continues speaking, oblivious to the subliminal argument you and Harry are currently having.

His knee begins to jostle beneath you, anxious and irritated. You liken it to that of him tapping his wrist impatiently as if telling Abel to hurry the fuck up already.

In return, you squeeze his palm between your fingers. Once. Twice. Calm. Down.

The arm around your waist tightens. Until your back is softly jerked against his chest. No.

You wonder the reason for this behavior. Sure, his jealousy makes an appearance once in a while, but not usually around his own friends. Not in a place like this. And not around someone as sweet as Abel, who is so far back in your past, you can hardly remember it.

Harry’s chin finds your shoulder. Rests there. Jaw clenched. Fingers now tapping your hip. Hurry.

You nestle back into his embrace, relaxing against his large frame as you exhale softly. Easy.

“—so, I wasn’t really sure what to do, you know?” Abel shrugs, glancing toward the rest of the room before looking back. “But what about you, huh? Wasn’t sure I’d see you around for a while.”

Harry’s grip tightens.

“Oh, no, this isn’t really my scene,” you agree quickly, laughing a bit as you straighten up, attempting to loosen the hold on your hip. “But with Harry’s tour starting soon, figured I’d swing by before he heads off.”

“That’s right. That’s so cool, man. Heard it’s is gonna be huge,” Abel replies, eyes flicking to Harry as he offers a supportive grin. “Yeah, hoping to swing by the L.A. show sometime.”

Appreciative of the kind gesture, you offer Abel a thankful smile before glancing over your shoulder toward the still very sullen man keeping you planted to your spot.

You had expected him to at least pretend to look happy. Offer a grin of his own or even return the compliment. Pleasantries having always been his speciality.

But tonight, for some odd reason, he only frowns. “Yeah, thanks…man. Listen—” Suddenly, he’s standing, forcing you from his lap as your feet hit the floor and his fingers weave around your upper arm. “—we gotta head out. Thanks for dropping by, though.”

And with that, you’re gingerly yet forcibly slung toward the direction of the exit.

“Wait, Har—Harry,” you hiss, twisting back around to call a quick, “Sorry! It was so good to see you. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Will do,” Abel laughs, tossing a hand up in greeting before returning to his friends and you return to the 6-foot man-child dragging you out of the party.

“Harry,” you warn as his palm outstretches to shove the double doors open and pull you into the dark night. “Harry, my arm—”

He lets go within an instant once you’re safe and sound on the sidewalk, and you stumble toward a steady footing.

His eyes, narrowed and dark with livid displeasure, find you. He stands tall. Still. Offering no explanation for his behavior as you’re left to brush your hands down your dress.

“The hell was that?” you huff, straightening up as you study him. “Since when do you manhandle me—”

“What the fuck was with you?” he retorts, hands finding his pockets as he jerks his head toward the building before raising his voice in mimic. “‘Oh, Abel, I missed you so much, it’s been so good to see you, let’s so do this again.’”

Your glare begins to mirror his, hands finding your hips as you scoff, “That’s not how that happened and why do you even care?”

“I fucking care because…” He hesitates, making a noise himself as he looks out into the street, mulling over his response. “Because it was fucking weird.”

You lean back. “What? What was weird? We were talking—”

“Yeah, why?” 

Your brows pull together, eyes falling over his hardened expression. “What do you mean why? Cause we’re friends.”

“Yeah? Is that all?”

The lilt in his voice is venomous and you can feel your muscles recoil as you hesitate. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs as if suggesting you figure it out yourself, and you’re positive you don’t like the implication.

You take a cautious step toward him, pointer finger raising in the air as you murmur, “You better watch your fucking tone, Styles. Whatever it is you’re trying to say? Don’t.”

His head cocks to the side. “What? You don’t want me to say that I think you used to fuck him?”

There it is.

You can feel the swell of livid outrage form deep in your chest as you move back. “That’s what this is about.” Not a question. A statement. A glaringly obvious acceptance. “You’re jealous he and I used to see each other.”

His glare deepens at the carefully worded phrase. “I’m not jealous—”

“Ha.” Your laugh is bitter. You look away, head shaking with disbelief. “No, that’s good. That was a good one. Because if you weren’t jealous, then why the fuck are we out here instead of in there?"

Harry straightens up. Grits his teeth. Doesn’t respond.

So, you respond for him. “Because he’s in there…right?”

More silence. More confirmation of the truth you’d almost be flattered by if he hadn’t made such a scene. 

You have two options, you realize now. 

Continue standing in the middle of the street screaming at each other as the people around you awkwardly watch. 

Or talk him down.

Even though, truthfully, you’re not sure why you have to talk him down when he’s the one acting like a child.

But it’s then that you’re reminded of the times Taylor has been in the room. Or Camille. Or Kendall. The times when you’ve never felt more out of place in this world of his. Standing beside him as he catches up with an old lover.

And despite reminding yourself that it doesn’t matter who was in his past as long as you’re in his future, it doesn’t diminish that devil on your shoulder reminding you how different you are from his very specific type.

No matter your confidence in your relationship, it doesn’t erase the small trickle of doubt that works its way in when you see them together.

And the only thing that truly brings you back to reality is the tender tone of his voice as he reminds you that you’re the only one he sees in a room full of people. 

It’s a kindness that makes a world of difference. 

A kindness you see he needs now.

Slowly, your resolve fades, anger dissipating with each second that passes.

You step closer to him, small hands smoothing up his chest until you can cup his cheeks. He tenses, curious of your intentions as you begin to stroke the soft skin beneath your fingertips. Calming him. 

“Abel and I met a long time ago,” you tell him softly, noticing the flex in his fingers at the admission. Still, you carry on. “We dated—briefly—and it ended on bad terms. We weren’t really a good fit as partners. But, later, we became friends. And he’s the one who told me about the party where you and I met.”

Harry’s brow cocks upward. Yet, he doesn’t speak. He waits.

“I see him maybe once a year if that. And always in a crowded, social setting. He will always be a good memory in my past. But you…you, Har, are my future.”

Now you begin to see the understanding. The relaxation in his muscles. In his expression. In the way his hands find your hips to pull you a bit closer. Have you near.

“And in a room full of Abel’s…I only see you,” you can’t help but add a bit cheekily, and you’re rewarded with his smirk.

“Wow,” he mumbles, head shaking softly. “No, that was bad. Is that how dumb I sound when I say it?”

“Hey.” Your hand slaps at his chest. “It was cute.”

“Yeah. Sure. All right, angel, whatever you say.”

You pull your lip between your teeth, fighting a smug grin. “It was kind of cute the way you got so mad.”

Now, the glare returns, and he rolls his eyes while attempting to let go.

But you hold steady, pulling at his jaw as you laugh, “No, really. Got all grumpy and mad. Everybody wants to steal my girl, yeah? Is that—I mean, was that what was going through your—hey, where are you going?”

But he’s already striding down the sidewalk, leaving you behind as you chuckle adoringly. For a moment, he doesn’t reply. Simply walks down the street as you’re left to wonder.

Then, he turns. Smirking yet again as he calls, “I’m taking you home. So I can show you exactly what happens when someone tries to steal my girl.”

Your face flushes, thighs already attempting to clench together as you swallow apprehensively.

Then…

You follow.

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It's important to be mindful of your thoughts and try to practice positive thinking. This doesn't mean ignoring or denying negative emotions or challenges, but rather reframing negative thoughts in a more realistic and balanced way.