#i wanted to pretend to be sick tomorrow so i can get out of work but i think mom is against it

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Yangyang x fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Unprotected vaginal sex. Creampie. CNC themes. "Forced" breeding. Breeding kink. Mentions of exhibitionism. YY curses in German. Pet names-- YY calls reader "his bunny" (that'll be a recurring theme if i ever write about him again) and reader calls him "little sheep".

| wc: 2.5k

| aurora's note: …I’m on a cnc kick. Sorry. Blame Twitter. I was about .0002 seconds away from adding mommy kink to this too, ok. Everyone say "thank you, aurora" for sparing you all lmao

You’ve been teasing Yangyang for so long that he’s beginning to wonder if he did something wrong— He dyed his hair pink for you since he knows how much you like it! And he did the laundry, all the dishes, he cleaned the house, made you dinner on your anniversary… Where did he go wrong? But it’s not that he upset you. Quite the opposite, actually, because ever since he dyed his hair for you, all you’ve wanted to do is fuck him 24/7. You wanted to keep him home from work all day, every day just for the sake of milking him dry… and you didn’t care if he’d sleep or not… You just- Fuck- You needed him so badly, but you knew that you couldn’t have what you wanted, so you withdrew slightly, trying your best to keep your hands to yourself because if you slipped up for even a moment then you’d have to go all in.

“Can you pass me the gochujang?” Yangyang asked as he stirred the pan on the stovetop. You agreed with a nod, opening the cupboard above your head to grab it from the first shelf, only… it wasn’t there like normal. No, it was higher up on the third shelf, a tad out of your reach. “You got it?”

“Yeah, one sec.” You stretched up high to grab the container, but your finger tips only grazed it, sending it shuffling an inch backwards. You huffed. “Who the Hell put it where it doesn’t belong?” Still, you tried your best, even putting a knee up on the counter to give you something to push up on to get more height.

“Don’t hurt yourself—“ Yangyang immediately abandoned the stove to step behind you, hands firmly grasping your hips to hold you steady while you finally got the gochujang and landed back on the floor safely.

You hesitated. Standing pressed against the counter, Yangyang’s hands on your hips, his breath hot on the back of your neck… You were slipping into dangerous territory which you’d tried so hard to avoid for so damn long. So you attempted to avoid the inevitable and shrug off his touch by accusing him of not putting the gochujang where it belonged! He apologized quietly. But his hands didn’t waver like you wanted, instead they tightened on your hips, and he pressed further against you. Inadvertently, your gaze flicked to the clock on the stove. 7PM. Dinner was supposed to be ready by 7:30PM so that he could go work out with Kun and Hendery at 8PM, then he would be home and in bed with you by 10PM— And you would pretend to be asleep like usual in order to avoid having him think he could finally fuck you.

“The food’s gonna burn,” you warned quietly.

Yangyang reached over to turn off the stove. The sizzling in the pan slowly died out, and the kitchen went quiet,

“You’re gonna be late to the gym.”

“I’ll cancel,” he whispered in your ear.

“You have work tomorrow.”

“I’ll call in sick.”

“You can’t fall behind in rehearsals before tour.”

“Not much anyone can do about it if I’m sick…”

And then Yangyang’s lips were pressed against your neck, leaving soft, gentle, teasing kisses, as if he were waiting for you to elbow him and kick him out of the apartment because all you’d done for weeks is look the other way when he showed any interest in fucking you. The erection pressed against your ass proved just how torturous those long weeks without your attention had been. How could you neglect him? He did so much for you. All he wanted was you…

Suddenly you spun around, letting Yangyang readjust his grasp onto the opposite hips now that you were facing him, and you immediately began kissing him passionately. He seemed a bit caught off guard. For the first few moments, he didn’t kiss you back, but once you tangled your fingers in his long pink hair, he was a goner, kissing you with so much passion that you tilted back into the counter, your head brushing the cupboard you’d fought with minutes prior. His hands wandered down until he found the soft spot right under your ass where he could grab you and lift you onto the counter, the perfect height for him to fuck you. 

It was completely unceremonial the way Yangyang pulled your pants down to your ankles and you simultaneously tore his shirt off his body all at the speed of light— Like the two of you were a pair of starved dogs who couldn’t hold back from feasting on their next meal. Your shirt went next, then his pants and underwear. Yangyang fiddled with your bra for a moment before unclasping it with a victorious moan vibrating against your nipple that he took into his mouth. The hold you hand on his pink hair tightened, urging him to move things along faster, having him stand up straight so that he could palm his erection with one hand while the other fell down to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit while two fingers teased your entrance to get you wet at quicker pace. You moaned, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

What happened to holding back? You promised yourself that you wouldn’t give in— Especially now when he was feeding your delusions about lying to his friends, coworkers, and bosses about his wellbeing just so he could stay home with you all day to fuck you dumb… or vice versa, if you ever had it your way. Honestly, you were distracted by the surprise that his hair was still so soft after all the dye and products he had to use to keep it such a bright pink color, and even then it was already fading, so he would have to decide sooner than later if he wanted to freshen it up or dye it a different color. Knowing hair dye, you knew that the pink wouldn’t come out or be covered up easily, so the unfortunate reality was that he would have to go a dark color… You hated that. The best thing in the entire world was whenever he would come home with some kind of new bright hair, like his famous pink or your favorite platinum or gray colors.

“Why’ve you been ignoring me?” he asked prior to a quiet grunt as he slid his fingers into your wet hole.

“Because—”

He hit your g-spot once he was inside and curling his fingers upwards.

“Because—”

And then he scissored his fingers open to stretch you wide enough for his waiting cock.

“Because I didn’t want to fuck you!”

He hesitated. “What?”

That wasn’t what you meant… It sounded wrong when you said it like that, but he was being a nuisance with his fingers, and it was the only way you could think to spew out your thoughts quickly before another pathetic moan could escape you.

“I mean… You’ve been so busy… Rehearsing, recording, working out, having meetings… I didn’t want to distract you…”

Slowly, his fingers thrusted into you again, but it was so slow that all it did was remind you that he was inside you rather than him trying to push you towards an orgasm.

“I didn’t think we’d have any time, Xiao Yang…”

He moaned at the nickname, his eyes rolling while his eyelids shut. “You’re so silly sometimes,” he whispered, curling his fingers again to make you arch your back and moan out his nickname for him. “I always have time for you.” He leaned in close to kiss your cheek. “Why do you think I keep dying my hair pink?”

That did it for the both of you— Within an instant, you were reaching out for his cock to stroke it while he stepped closer to the counter and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. He took one last moment to appreciate that warmth of your tight walls wrapped around his fingers, then he pulled them out, only to replace them with the tip of his cock both of you were working together to line up at your entrance.

“You just wanted me that badly, hmm? Had to keep yourself away?” He grinned smugly.

With a roll of your eyes, you wrapped your legs around his waist and put one of your hands on the small of his back while the other remained in his hair. Yangyang let you take the lead by having you contract your legs and push on his back so that he slowly started pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch until he was completely inside, his length twitching with excitement.

“Go on, then, pretty boy, show me how much you missed me,” you told him.

“Ah, sheise,” he moaned in response, rushing to fuck you as a rough pace that made it hard to keep your legs wrapped around him. You didn’t want him going anywhere though. It’d been so long, both of you were so pent up, there was no reality in which you would ever let the two of you go on without fucking each other for so long in the future.

Yangyang’s thighs slapped against the cupboards underneath the counter you sat on every time he thrusted all the way inside of you. In and out. Tip to base. The sound of the two of you panting and moaning echoed throughout the apartment, the constant pace of his thrusts surely letting the neighbors know what you were up to. What if you guys took too long… What if Kun and Hendery came by to see what was wrong, why Yangyang missed their scheduled gym time for the first time in years— Honestly, you wouldn’t have cared, you would’ve kept going even with his friends watching, but you wondered if Yangyang would’ve stopped due to his embarrassment of being caught with his pants down and ball deep in his girlfriend.

“Harder, Xiao Yang,” you pleaded with him.

He pressed one hand against the cupboard over your head to support himself while fucking you even faster and leaning in to kiss you as a distraction from the way he was getting noticeably closer to his orgasm even though it hadn’t been that long. At least he was cute after denying him for so long… His desperation left him incapable of speaking or keeping his eyes open, and there was no way for him to fight against the tight hold your legs had around his waist.

“Fuck— Mein hase—“ He toppled a bit. “Need you to cum first…” He trailed his hand from your waist to your clit to rub fast circles around the sensitive bud, hoping to race you towards your orgasm faster than his own was approaching. “So fucking pretty when you take my cock, hase.”

You tugged on his hair, and Yangyang faltered slightly with a blissful moan. “So fucking pretty when you fuck me, Xiao Yang.” You won that battle. He immediately submitted to your Dominance with just a rough pull on his pink hair. “Make me cum, baby. Just like that!” Your hips bucked against his, the counter creaking under you.

The faster his fingers worked, the slower his hips went, but that was okay because you were finally teetering on the edge, your orgasm creeping up on you sooner than you thought possible… Maybe it really was a bad idea to stay away from him for so long. Not only was he desperate for you, but you were obviously just as eager to feel him in you again, his thin but long cock pistoning inside of you while his fingers expertly played with your clit the way you taught him. He really was the best listener. Your best boy.

“Yangyang!” you moaned.

Suddenly, you were cumming before you could warn him. Your walls tightened violently around him, causing him to hiss while flicking your clit even faster to make sure you properly rode out your high.

“I’m cumming— Sheise—“ He jerked his hips back like he was trying to pull out of you and instead elect to cum on your stomach, but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was the hold your legs had on him tightening, forcing him to stay buried inside of you. “Wait, wait, baby, I’m cumming—“ He struggled again. You held true.

“Cum inside of me, pretty boy.”

His legs shook under him as Yangyang couldn’t fight off his orgasm any longer. With a defeated moan, he came inside of you, panting in your ear, a cry of disbelief overtaking him. The two of you hardly ever fucked without a condom, so the idea of taking birth control consistently was… Well, not really important to either of you. With your hips tilted up, and him being held inside of you with nowhere to go, the thought of getting you pregnant scared him slightly, but even worse was that it made his orgasm hit him even harder. He could be the one to knock you up, to claim you. Everyone’d know you were his. His damn friends who took up so much of his time, preventing him from getting home to you, they would know you were his.

“I’m cumming again—“

Now you were the surprised one. Never before had Yangyang cum twice in a single round of fucking… And he didn’t even take time to fuck you again, building up to the orgasm. No, it just hit him like a ton of bricks. He remained in you, riding out his second strong orgasm that took his breath away, his hand wrapping around the cupboard handle tightly. When he tried to pull out of you again, you didn’t let up as either of you expected— No, you stared at his red cheeks, his heavy lidded eyes, and his jaw hanging agape, admiring the way he looked so fucked-out all because of you.

“Please,” he begged quietly.

You shook your head. “Gotta make sure it sticks.”

He moaned again, biting his lip and looking down at where your bodies met, the creaminess of his two loads already seeping out around his cock, standing his pelvis and the inside of your thighs.

“You’re so pretty when you can’t think straight, baby…” You smiled at him, brushing his sweaty pink hair out of his face. He blushed in response. “You’ll have to call in sick… I don’t think you’ll be able to leave bed tonight or tomorrow.” He gulped at the thought. “Pretty boy.”

Yangyang leaned back in to kiss you one more time. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there was a knock at the door. “Liu Yangyang! Where the fuck are you?!” Shit, Kun sounded pissed…

Yangyang tried to pull out of you again, as if he hadn’t learned his lesson yet, you weren’t letting him go, not even for his friends. He accepted his fate willingly. With a quiet sigh, he said that he’d text them that he was sick… and that he couldn’t make it to work the following day… You smiled at him, content with that conclusion, patting his pink hair to show your appreciation.

[weirdlizard26]

i think i should be allowed to redo my teenage years as a treat i think i just need to be 11 again and then everythings gonna be ok

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[fingertipsmp3]

I love waking up to a text from the assistant manager telling me someone I worked with yesterday is poorly (with what girl??? Is he contagious?????) and asking if I can pick up a shift today or tomorrow

[toastsnaffler]

argh..

[vbecker10]

Aww, You Do Care

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are an analyst for SHIELD and you are going for a simple surgical procedure. All of the Avengers wish you luck and Loki does his best to pretend he doesn't care.

Warnings: Loki being a little annoying but that's expected, mentions of a surgery happening but it isn't described and I skip from the day before to the day after so the surgery isn't shown at all

A/N: This is 100% self indulgent lol I'm actually going for this same surgery in the middle of August so I wanted to write how the team would respond to what was happening.

You close your laptop when the meeting ends and stand up, pushing in your chair. Loki stays seated in the chair next to you, finalizing his notes and Steve walks over to you from the other side of the table.

The super soldier pulls you into a tight hug and says, "Good luck tomorrow, Y/N."

"Thanks," you reply with a smile when he lets you go.

"My turn," Natasha says, pushing him aside. She hugs you tightly, "Good luck. Text me if you need anything."

"I will," you promise. "One of my friends is coming to stay with me for a few days so I should be okay."

Thor hugs you from behind, almost picking you up off the floor, "I hope everything goes well."

"Thanks," you laugh when he releases you.

Loki gets up, "Do you mind?"

He motions towards the door and you move out his way without saying anything to the God of Mischief. Tony rolls his eyes behind Loki's back then gives you a hug as well.

Loki stands with his hands in his pockets as he waits for the elevator and you join him silently.

"Why was the team so insistent on wishing you luck?" Loki asks without looking at you.

"I'm having an operation tomorrow," you answer.

"An operation?" Loki asks, his voice holds no emotion but you see a hint of worry in his eyes when he looks at you.

"It's not a big deal. I didn't bother to tell you cause I figured you wouldn't care," you shrug.

"I do not," he agrees and the doors open. "Out curiosity, not concern," he clarifies and you smile to yourself, looking down, "What type of surgery?"

You follow him into the elevator, "They are operating on my sinuses." You touch your cheeks then the bridge of your nose to indicate where the procedure will be performed.

"Why?" he asks, still trying to act as if he is unconcerned and merely curious.

You sigh, "You know how annoying you think it is when I can't stop sniffling or sneezing?"

"Yes," he nods. "It is quite irritating that you cannot breath silently and constantly sound as if you are unwell."

You roll your eyes but that was pretty much the response you expected from the younger prince. "Well it turns out there a reason I'm always kinda sick. There's something wrong with my sinuses so my doctor is going to remove the infected tissue and then reshape my sinus cavities so they work better," you tell him with a little description as possible.

"Oh," he nods, his eyes meet yours for a moment then he looks back at the elevator buttons.

"So, I'll need to find a new way to bother you since simply trying to breath won't do it anymore," you joke.

He chuckles, "I have no doubt you will find a way. You are one of the more tiresome Midgardians I have met."

"Hurtful," you tell him sarcastically when the doors open on his floor. "Try not to miss me too much. I'll be back in a few days," you wave when he steps out.

Just before the doors close fully Loki says, "Good luck, Y/N."

You stand alone in the elevator wondering if you had heard him correctly.

The day after the surgery, you lay in bed reading when your friend knocks on the open door to your bedroom. "You have a visitor," she says, pointing down the hall. "Feel like seeing anyone?"

You look at her a bit confused, a few of your friends were stopping by tomorrow afternoon but no one had texted about coming over today. "Umm, sure. Who is it?" you ask.

She shakes her head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh... that's- okay. Yeah, you can let them in," you tell her hesitantly.

"Hello," Loki says when he walks into your bedroom a moment later.

You look at him, too stunned to respond as you sit up more in bed. You adjust your sheets and put the bookmark back in your book before setting it next to you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes showing a hint of concern as he observes your post surgery face.

"You remember that time the hulk slammed you into concrete a bunch of times?" you ask him.

He nods, "Vividly, yes."

"Kinda like that expect face first," you point to the bruises covering your cheeks and bandages supporting your nose.

"Well..." Loki smirks, "You do look as if that is what happened."

"No, I wanted to bring you this," he conjures a small potted plant and you look at it in surprise. He puts it on your nightstand and says, "I heard it was customary to bring flowers when someone is in the hospital but you have said before that most flowers aggravate your allergies so that did not seem like a suitable option. I know you have several plants similar to this one in your office so I thought you might like it."

You laugh but stop yourself quickly, the muscles in your face are still incredibly sore. "That was mean," you tell him, touching your cheek lightly. "Did you just come here to tell me I look awful?" you ask in a joking tone.

"Wow," you say quietly, touching the green leaves gently. You look up at him and smile even though it hurts, "Aww Loki, you big softy, you do care."

"Do not tell anyone," he says seriously then he returns the smile, "But of course I care."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[ragingbookdragon]

The woman sits down beside him on the park bench as he watches JJ run around with the toy soldier in his hand, yelling commands and jumping over playground equipment, pretending to be his dad. She smiles and leans over, asking, “Which one is yours?”

He eyes her from the corner of his hood and mutters, “Tyke with the action figure.”

She smiles wider. “He’s cute. JJ, isn’t he?” She points to a young girl following JJ around with her little nurse box. “He plays with Amelia a lot.”

“Yeah?” He’s not exactly interested in the conversation, but one look tells him she’s a tired mom who just wants to talk to someone not in “Mom-Land” 24/7.

“Amelia was really sick as a baby. When she was well enough to play…a lot of the kids didn’t want to play with her. Said she’d make them sick.”

“Cancer?” He asks before he can stop himself, and she blinks before she nods.

“Free now, but kids can be cruel.” She waves at JJ when he looks over. “JJ was the first to play with her. They like to play soldiers and medics.” A laugh escapes her when JJ tumbles and calls for Amelia, and the little girl bends beside him and starts opening the little box of toy supplies. “Is your wife working?”

He wonders if it’s a hope for a mom friend but he shakes his head. “Not married. JJ’s my godson.”

“Oh? But the woman who brings him?” She blinks. “I thought she was…”

“Missus Price is my CO’s wife. She and him took a vacation. I’m watchin’ JJ.”

“You must be close with them,” she surmises. “I thought she was your wife. She’s always so nice and sweet.”

He smiles at that. “Missus Price is a good one.” He whistles sharply all of the sudden, and JJ’s head pops up in the grass before he gets up and hauls Amelia with him, running over.

JJ mock salutes. “Reporting for duty, sir!” He looks at Amelia. “Lia, you have to salute.” The little girl follows in suit and the woman giggles at them.

“It’s gettin’ time for lunch,” he says and JJ whines.

“But Uncle Simon, we just got to the sandpit.”

Simon glares at him. “Soldiers need sustenance for survival. Without it, you’ll starve.”

JJ’s eyes widen and he turns to Amelia. “Medic, I have to leave my battle station.” He salutes her and she does it back clumsily. “Ready for sustance, sir.”

“Sustenance,” Simon corrects and stands up, placing a large hand on his head; it dwarfs the boy’s skull, fingers going over his eyes.

“Unc’ Simon, I can’t see,” he giggles.

“C’mon Banshee,” he says and nods to the woman before he starts walking.

JJ follows, but stops, a faint pink covering his cheeks as he hurries back and hugs Amelia tight. “Bye Medic Lia.”

Amelia hugs him back and smiles with a wave as the woman watches the young boy run next to his godfather, spouting off about enemies in the sandpit and the security of the nation.

The woman hurriedly rises and picks up Amelia, following with, “Wait!”

Simon stops and turns, looking at her expectingly.

“Um…Amelia and I will be back tomorrow around ten…if JJ and you want to come back and play?” She smiles, feeling heat on her cheeks and Simon gazes at her before he looks down at JJ who is nodding rapidly.

“We’ll be ‘ere,” he agrees and the woman smiles.

“I’m glad,” she holds out her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

He takes her hand and shakes it, his grip firm but warm and inviting. “You as well.”

As they walk off, JJ looks up at him and asks, “Do you like Amelia’s mum?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “I just met ‘er, Banshee.”

“I like Amelia’s mom. She’s nice. She always brings me a snack.” He takes Simon’s hand. “I think you should like Amelia’s mum.”

“I’ll think about it.” He says, and happens a glance back at the woman who is listening intently to her daughter vividly depict her playtime with her friend; a small smile graces his lips and he thinks to himself, “I’ll think about it a lot.”

[alcoholfreenayeon]

G!P Yujin?

All Night

CW: G!p Yujin x reader, fluff, nsfw, smut, oral, public sex, creampie

A/N: Here you go bestie🙃hope you like it!

Yujin laughs as you tell her a story about work, it’s like your favorite sound, her laughter and you can’t help but smile at her lovingly. She sighs softly as she looks at you happily, her fingers intertwining with yours.

The two of you continue your walk, you both had gone out to a cafe but now spent almost an hour just roaming around, enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company. It was good, almost perfect actually which is why it wouldn’t last. She was going away on tour for about a month tomorrow. A month of not being able to see her, talk about torture. You had already tried everything you could think of to convince her not to go but of course it was work, her job and she couldn’t just not go but it did manage to make her spend every free moment till then with you.

You led her to an empty bench where you both sat, leaning against each other and sitting in silence for a few moments. The gloominess of Yujin leaving in a few hours begins to set in and you pull her closer, pouting a little and burying your head in her shoulder. She sighs and kisses your forehead, rubbing your back trying to comfort you a little.

“Baby, you don’t-shouldn’t be too upset. You know this happens a lot. Not this frequently but…”, she kisses your forehead again, hoping to cheer you up a little.

You hold her a bit tighter, “Can’t you just pretend to be sick or something…”

“Eh? How long will I pretend”, she chuckles, finding your protests cute. “Besides I’m sure the time will pass by quickly”

“It won’t”, you disagree stubbornly.

Yujin sighs, “At least be a bit more positive.”

“I can’t. Not when you leave me so cruelly.”, you argue, pouting again.

“Hey, don’t say that, I’m not leaving you…I am but not that way.”, she takes a deep breath, “It’s not like I enjoy being away from you either, it’s hard for me too cutie.”, she gives you a small nudge.

You keep your grip on her, “Then stay. Please. Just one time.”

“Baby, you know that’s not how it works, look, anything I can do to make it up to you? Something you want? Something you want to do, I’m ready for it if we’ll be able to by tonight.”, Yujin tries to convince you.

You huff and pull away from her folding your arms, “you can’t bribe me…..”, you then glance at her for moment and look away again, “a kiss, no so many kisses and hugs. Just keep holding me and loving me till you have to go.”

Yujin giggles and throws her arms over you, lifting your face and giving you a small kiss before giggling some more as you try to fight off a smile. “You lose, you are smiling”, she teases.

“I am not and I didn’t!”, you bark but you know it’s only a matter of time before you end up smiling and giggling uncontrollably.

Yujin smirks, “right is that so…”, she then grabs your waist and pulls you on her lap making you yelp and then holds your face before kissing you deeply. You wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her back, your face flushing from her suddenness and also because anyone could just walk by and see the two of you making out. However it was cut short when in the middle, you began to feel something poking you from underneath.

“B-babe?”, you ask with a small smile, a bit surprised but you also can’t help but feel giddy at getting her hard.

Yujin grips your hips tightly, “I can’t help it. Not after this. I want you. Now.”, She says defiantly.

“H-here?! Now?!”, you ask in disbelief. You both were on an empty park bench for God’s sake. It would be so easy to get caught here. But for some reason that began to turn you on a little. “But…”, you look at her nervously.

Yujin grins, shushing you, “Shh…don’t worry, you know what, since you don’t want to do it, will you at least help me out.”, she smirks and leans in, kissing your neck before whispering seductively in your ear, “I do love it so much when you suck me off. You are so good at it….can you please do it for me princess.”

You take a deep breath, you really shouldn’t, if you were to think out pros and cons of getting caught, the cons would far outweigh the pros but Yujin was right. You were good at sucking her cock. You liked how she likes it. The way she would sigh and stroke your hair when you do good. You crave that, to give yourself, all of yourself up for her.

You purse your lips and look at her, “…Fine but we need to be careful. I don’t want to get caught and you definitely can’t get caught.”, you slide off her lap, looking around.

She smirks and slowly gets up, grabbing your face and kissing you slowly once more before taking your hand and leading you away from the bench towards the trees, before you both end up in a clearing. It wasn’t quite as far as you hoped it would be from the walkway but it was still enough that no one would normally stumble upon you both especially at this time.

You nervously check once more before turning to find Yujin quite close to you, she can’t stop smiling. You loved that smile so much. You roll your eyes playfully at her before getting on your knees, taking a deep breath as you prepare yourself.

You pull down her pants, almost getting hit in the face as she’s already hard and ready for you. She grab her cock by its base, stroke it gently a few times while you slowly put the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it drawing a sharp moan from Yujin. You continue, stroking her base gently while taking her a bit deeper. Yujin sighs happily, stroking your hair, her eyes closed. You bob your head dutifully taking a bit more of her length every few bobs, gagging a little towards the end as she starts to hit the back of your throat. This continues before a few minutes, Yujin’s moans becoming louder and more frequent, her grip on your hair tightening each time you take her whole cock in and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, being in public and sucking your girlfriend off was turning you on more than you’d like to admit.

You decide to step things up, taking her whole length in but keeping your head there, not pulling back and swirl your tongue around her cock greedily making her gasp. You then pull back for a moment and try to repeat it but as soon as you feel her cock hit the back of your throat, Yujin groans and grabs your head tightly with both her hands. Then to your surprise she takes a ragged breath and pulls her cock out quickly. You catch your breath, coughing a little, your mouth a sloppy and look at her questioningly.

“What…what’s wrong?”, you ask between breaths.

Yujin looks like she’s focusing hard herself, “Y-you were going to make me cum doing that. I didn’t want to. Not in your mouth at least.”

Your eyes widen, “No! You can’t! Not my face, we are in a park for fucks sake!”, you immediately reject the suggestion though a tiny part of you wanted her to change your mind.

Yujin smiles, her eyebrows rising, “I meant your pussy. I want to fuck you so bad but your idea sounds kinda nice. It’ll be fun to show off what a slut you are for me.”

You feel your cheeks redden, “No..that’s not…”, you quietly say.

“Anyway, we can get to that later.”, she says pushing you back playfully making you squeal and fall on your back. You glare at her and she giggles excitedly as she gets on top of you.

“Are…are you sure this is a good idea? It’ll be really embarrassing if we get caught now. It was bad enough when-”, you try to ask but get cut off as she begins to kiss you, pinning your arms either side of your head. You instinctively spread your legs and then wrap it around Yujin.

When she enters you, you close your eyes, whimpering as she stretches you before a slow moan comes out. Yujin grins, enjoying your reaction as she slowly goes in deeper and deeper. She begin thrusting steadily, gripping your wrists tightly as she feels your pussy contract and clench around her. You lose focus of everything else around you, your mind only on Yujin, her weight on top of you, the way her cock was stretching you out, hitting the deepest points of your pussy, the sounds of her body hitting yours. You moan with need each thrust, unable to get enough of her and Yujin feels the same, each thrust being harder than the previous. Soon enough she’s ramming her cock roughly into you, lost in the pleasure, she can’t help it. Your pussy makes her lose control.

As she keeps thrusting, you feel your orgasm build up quickly, your legs tightening around her before your eyes roll and your entire body shakes as you cum. Moaning out her name, you cum hard, your pussy gripping her cock tightly as if it’ll never let go causing her to groan and squeeze your wrists. As your orgasm fades, Yujin begins to thrust with renewed vigor, watching you cum had made her even hornier and now want really wanted to cum.

If she was fucking you before, she was pounding you now, ramming her cock in you relentlessly, her ragged breaths revealing that she’s close too. However, this had just turned you on more and you felt another orgasm building up rapidly and just as you thought you were going to cum again, Yujin slams her cock as deep as she can, her cock enlarging and throbbing as she begins to fill you up. The feeling of her spilling her load so deep in you pushed you over the edge and your eyes become unfocused, you scream as you came for a second time, your body buckling and jolting from the pleasure.By the time you finish cumming, Yujin still isn’t done, her cum still spilling in you.

You sigh loudly, slowly grinding your hips against her, trying to milk her more. Finally she groans and collapses on top of you, letting go of your wrists. She looks up and kisses you passionately and you wrap your hands around her neck kissing her back.

“A-are you done now”, you ask breathlessly, teasing her a little.

“For now”, Yujin says with a smirk.

“F-for now?”, you question her.

She catches her breath, smiling at you intently, “well yes, we are going home and I’m going to fuck you some more. Weren’t you complaining that we won’t be able to spend time together from tomorrow or well…tonight. I’m going to call in sick and say I’ll be a bit late in the morning and I’d meet them straight at the airport. For now, I need you.”

You look at her in disbelief, blushing a little, out of words.

She giggles and pokes your nose, “Ok no need to be so shocked, ready up, we need to leave soon if we are to make the most of the night.”

“T-the night. Like the whole night?”, you stammer.

She sighs playfully with a smile, “Baby….sometimes you act so dumb. Yes I’m going to fuck you the whole night. I don’t care. Don’t tell to take it easy because I need my energy for tomorrow. In fact, you’ll need to take it easy for a couple days when I’m done with you”

You bite your lips, squeezing your legs together at her suggestion and get up hastily, ready to go. Yujin puts her arm behind your waist, grinning as she leads you towards your home, whispering what she has in plan for you…

Taglist(open): @keervah @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

My request could also work with carmy and Michael too btw 👀🤭 whatever tickles your muse

There Goes That Dream.

carmy berzatto x female reader, michael berzatto x female reader

warnings - pure angst. sorry about this. happy valentines day!

masterlist. inbox. valentines masterlist.

“What’s on your mind, Bear?”

Michael has been watching his little brother carefully for the last thirty minutes. Carmy’s deep in thought, lip bitten between his teeth, eyes unfocused and dissociated.

“Nothin.”

“Right.”

Michael doesn’t say anything else, just allows Carmy to sit in the silence for a minute. He knows he’ll have to fill it eventually.

“Just thinking about Valentine’s.”

“Uh oh,” Mikey laughs, shoving his brother’s shoulder. “You having big feelings, bud?”

“Shut up,” Carmy grumbles, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I’m thinking about asking someone out, but I’ve left it too late. It’s literally tomorrow.”

“Dude. That means it isn’t too late. You’ve still got loads of time.”

Carmy looks over to where you’re laughing with Natalie, both of you giggling over something she’s showing you on her phone. It’s always been like this, for as long as he can remember. You slotted right into the Berzatto family as if it was your last name too.

Carmen fell in love with you that day. He’s loved you every day since.

It’s been ten years, give or take. He’s learned to live with the fact that he loves you, the way people adjust to new climates, or life altering injuries. He knows he has no choice but to carry on.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both single. Unattached to anyone, ready for a new connection. And if that isn’t a sign from the universe, Carmy doesn’t know what is. He’s sick of waiting, sick of pretending like he wouldn’t take a bullet for you at any given moment. He figures it’s now or never. He’s waited long enough.

“Carmen,” Michael says firmly, shaking him back to reality. “Whoever it is - she’s a lucky girl. The worst thing that can happen is that she says no. You’ll be okay.”

Carmy nods, knowing that his brother doesn’t understand, not really - but he’s trying to. You’re not just some girl. You’re the girl.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna do it. Later tonight, I think.”

“Good man.”

Mikey leaves him alone, smacking him on the back as he goes. Carmy’s buzzing with anticipation, ready to finally commit to the one thing he’s thought about doing every single day for the better part of a decade.

He stands in the kitchen for a while, trying to concoct the perfect plan. Eventually, he figures that it is literally now or never… and he has to choose now. He makes his way out to the living room and over to Natalie.

“Sugar, have you seen-”

“She’s outside. Out front.”

She already knows who he’s looking for. Because he’s only ever looking for you.

Carmy swings open the front door, ready to yell your name, when he sees you.

You’re sat on the curb, with Mikey next to you. You look like you’re deep in conversation, your eyes never leaving the older man’s face. Carmy figures you’ll be done soon, so he waits on the front step for you.

You laugh, and Mikey gets closer to you, so your thighs are pressed together on the cold sidewalk. Your eyes are still on his, and there’s this look that Carmy can’t quite place. He’s never seen it before, but it’s intense - focused, grounded, warm. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach, suddenly. He doesn’t like it.

Michael cups your face in his hands, and Carmy knows exactly what’s about to happen. He can’t look away, no matter how badly he wants to.

You meet him halfway, leaning in to kiss him with a passion that can only be created by time. Yearning, pining, waiting - that’s what this kiss is. It’s an amalgamation of patience.

You separate, lungs heaving, beaming grin on both of your faces.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for so long,” Carmy hears you say. “Years, Mikey.”

You’re both laughing, blissfully unaware of Carmen’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces mere feet away.

Michael was wrong, earlier. The worst thing that could happen is this.

[scientia-rex]

I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.

I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.

It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.

I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.

Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.

[janeyseymour]

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)- pt 2

After some pushback from the first, I knew I had to write a second part, and quick. this should placate most of you.

Summary: the aftermath.

Part 1.

WC: 2.25k

tags: @lakita-fisher @weeeeeeeeee3 @lilsmeaux @@morgana-larkin

You somehow make it home unscathed- you could barely see as you drove through your tears, your breakup playlist on full blast. You guess you’re officially done. With Melissa already having a new woman, you wonder just how much you ever even meant to her.

As soon as you’re pulling into your spot, the waterworks hit in full- as if they weren’t already. You rip off the jersey and hat that you wore out, not caring where they land as you throw them into your front room. You had bought a bottle of wine to share with the redhead that you fell madly in love with to celebrate getting back together, and hopefully a big win, but now that seems wrong to drink on your own. You reach for the vodka instead.

You don’t show to school the next day, calling out claiming that you’re sick. And you are. Your heart hurts more than you ever thought possible, and your hangover is killer. You spend the morning laying in bed, eyes rimmed red. The redness won’t be going away any time soon.

Melissa saunters into the school, happy that she hasn’t seen your car in the parking lot, and doing a little dance because her team won. She’s also quite happy that she was able to rebound with last night- even if she didn’t particularly enjoy the woman that she spent her time with. She much rather would’ve spent time with you, but… you were… are a Cowboys fan.

“Someone’s happy,” Barbara chuckles. She thinks she knows why. “Did you have a good night at the game?”

“I did!” Melissa grins. “I took this girl I met at the bar, and-”

The kindergarten teacher’s face drops. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to let the ticket I had for Y/N go to waste,” the redhead shrugs. “So I asked Lena if she wanted to go with me to heckle the Cowgirls fans.”

“Oh no,” Barbara whispers. “Oh, no. no. no.”

“What? I figured after Y/N and I, I should get myself back out there.”

“No,” Barbara states again with fire. “Oh good god.”

“What?! What, Barb?”

“I- I have to go make a call,” the kindergarten teacher grabs her coffee mug and heads out quickly. She closes her classroom door as she dials your number.

Your phone starts ringing far too loudly, and you groan. You glance at it and see Barbara’s contact picture light up.

“Hello?” you groan into the phone, just barely sitting up. Your voice is rough, both from the tears and the fact that you haven’t spoken since last night.

“Sweetheart,” your coworker whispers to you. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Home,” you grumble. “Sick.”

The kindergarten teacher frowns. “Sick? Lovesick?”

“Heartbroken,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly. “She was there with someone else. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, dear,” Barb sighs quietly. “If I had known that she was talking to someone else, I never would’ve told you to go for it. In fact, when she came in dancing today I thought it was because the two of you got back together.”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. “She had her tongue down someone else’s throat.”

“Honey, I am so sorry,” the woman tells you softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell her genuinely. “You didn’t do anything wrong but try to help me.”

“Can I do anything else for you?” Barbara asks.

You sigh. “Just… when I come back to work tomorrow, pretend I was sick? I don’t feel like having Janine jump down my throat.”

“I can do that,” the kindergarten teacher says softly. “And please know that even though the two of you aren’t involved anymore, we are all still on your side. You’re still a part of our-”

“It’s okay,” you sigh sadly. “I know that you’re all Melissa’s friends, and I don’t want to put any of you in an awkward position having to pick sides. She’s been here longer; it’s all hers.”

“Sweetheart,” Barbara breathes.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay, Barb. Thank you for trying to help me,” you mumble before hanging up.

By the time you hang up with her, the students will begin trickling in, so Barbara doesn’t have time to go speak with Melissa about the situation at hand.

But at lunch, Barbara simply grabs her lunch and picks up the redhead’s that is already out on the table.

“Barb,” Melissa gasps.

“My room. Now,” is all the kindergarten teacher has to say to get her friend to follow her out of the staff room and down the hall, head hung like a child being escorted to the principal’s office.

When they get there, Barbara sets down their lunches at her desk and pulls a chair up for Melissa.

“Barb, c’mon,” your… ex-girlfriend groans. “What gives?”

“What the hell were you doing out with another woman?”

The second grade teacher immediately gets defensive. “Y/N and I-”

“Y/N went to the game last night… dressed in Eagles gear and ready to cheer for your team because she loves you,” the older teacher says sternly. “And you threw it in her face that you were done with her and already moved on.”

“She- what?”

“She spent close to a thousand dollars on sports gear last week to try to win you back. She wore Phillies gear, she wore Flyers apparel, she wore a Sixers sweatshirt, she even wore a jersey from the Union, and on Friday, she wore Kelly green to show you that she’s in Philly now.”

“Didn’t show up in a Hurts or Kelce jersey though,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

“Because she was saving that for last night when she was going to win you back with the ticket that she managed to get next to you!”

Melissa’s face drops. “She- fuck.”

“She’s not sick. She’s heartbroken right now.”

The redhead bites her lip. “I fucked up takin’ Lena, didn’t I?”

Barbara nods. “She was crying when I called, and she told me she was heartbroken to see you with some other girl’s tongue down your throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” the kindergarten teacher nods. “That word.”

Melissa breathes out heavily. “Do you…” she shakes her head. “She’s still a Cowboys fan.”

“Melissa Ann, you love her. She loves you. She’s perfect aside from that one fact, and when she tried explaining herself to you at school, you wouldn’t let her get a word out. Hear her out, and even then… if she does love the Cowboys, are you really going to let something as trivial as a sports team rivalry come between you and the one person that you love?”

“I…” the redhead bites her lip. “Do you think I have a chance at winning her back?”

At that, the kindergarten teacher shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t try… although, I would end things with this new woman you were making out with last night.”

The end of the day could not come sooner for the second grade teacher. She’s debated texting you or calling you, but she feels this is something that she has to do in person.

So as soon as she’s finished for the day, she runs out. She leaves her lunch bag in the staff room, doesn’t wait for her work wife; she just books it. She’s tearing out of the school parking lot in the direction of your apartment complex.

The entire drive over, she’s preparing what she’s going to say to you, but once she’s standing on the door mat that you have sitting outside your front door, it all leaves her brain. She knocks a few times before stepping back.

Who the hell is at your door? Could it be Barbara checking on you? Or maybe she said something to Janine or Jacob, and they’re here to make sure that you’re okay? With a groan, you sit up and stand from the couch. You’ve been sitting there for so long wallowing in your self pity that you leave an indent in the cushions. You check the peephole, and… why is Melissa standing at your door?

You open the door, not caring how you look right now.

The sight of you hurts her heart. Your hair is messily tied up, you haven’t changed out of your pajamas, your eyes are still rimmed red… you just look so heartbroken right now.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” you try sound angry, but it just comes out pathetic.

“No,” she says softly. “Hun, I’m-”

“Here to break up with me?” you sigh. “You made it pretty clear we were done.”

“Can I come in?” she asks quietly. The woman sounds so unlike herself.

You shrug and leave the door open as you walk away. She follows you in. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh as you curl back into your mountain of blankets. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be civil the rest of the school year, I’ll leave you and your friends alone, and then I’ll find another school in the area to work at.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to work with your ex-girlfriend,” you sigh. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out.”

“Y/N,” Melissa says so softly, and she has her eyes trained on you. They’re filled with sadness. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I thought we already did,” you spit out. “And if we didn’t, I know you had your tongue down another woman’s throat last night anyway, so if you don’t break up with me, I’ll do it for you. Then you can make me the bad guy when you-”

“Barb told me what you were trying to do,” the redhead admits softly.

“If you would’ve just listened to me, you would know that I didn’t necessarily have a choice in who I rooted for when it came to football. My father, who is my idol and best friend so don’t you dare say a single bad thing about him, loves the Cowboys. He insisted on buying me the Prescott jersey despite the fact that I didn’t want him spending that money on me to begin with.”

“I should’ve known with you growing up near Dallas,” she sighs.

“But I’m here now,” you continue. “And once I talked to him and he told me that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So I did. I bought all of this Philly stuff, bought a ticket to the game and showed up in a hat and Hurts jersey, only to see you with someone else. So… it’ doesn’t matter.”

“Hun, I never wanted her.”

“Well, you got her.”

“The whole time, I was wishing it was you.”

You rub your temples.

“Barb told me she helped you,” the second grade teacher admits. “If I had known… I would’ve been-”

“Any time they brought me up, you shut them down,” you fire out. “You wouldn’t let me speak to you at all.”

“You avoided me too!”

“I was trying to give you space, and when I did try to talk to you, you shut me down and told me you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl.”

“How can I fix this?” Melissa asks as she comes to sit down next to you. “I’ll do- I’ll do anything.”

“I thought you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl,” you taunt her. “And you have your new girl now.”

“She isn’t my girl,” the redhead tells you sternly. “You’re my girl. She’s some random girl I picked up at a bar while I was trying to distract myself from missing you. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you- I didn’t even sleep with her. She was throwing herself at me, but I couldn’t.”

“So what are you saying?”

“And then today when you didn’t show up to school, Barbara told me what you did and how she helped you… she talked some sense into me; asked me if I was really going to let a stupid sports rivalry get in the way of loving the one person I truly adore. The answer is no. I was… an idiot. An absolute idiot.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “You were.”

“So… I’m here, begging you to take me back. Please, Y/N,” Melissa tears up. “Please. Please don’t walk away.”

“Melissa, you hurt me more than you know,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” she promises you. “Please.”

You take a deep breath for huffing it out. Secretly, you were hoping she would come back to you. And the opportunity is right here in front of you. “It’s… it’s going to take a bit for me to fully forgive you.”

“And I understand that entirely. I was a real jackass. I’ll make it up to you however I can.” She pulls you into her arms and kisses your temple gently. “However I can.”

That ‘however’ is by having her take you to another Eagles game- with the entire Abbott crew. You wear your Hurts jersey, hanging off of her the entire night, and you cheer for your new team.

The other ‘however’ is by getting her to take you to a Phillies RedOctober game at Lincoln Financial field. When they play their celebratory song after clinching a spot in the World Series as NLC champions, you know that you’re no longer dancing on your own (tiesto remix). You have Melissa by your side. 

[lauraneedstochill]

“All yours” (modern!Aemond Targaryen, college au, part 1)

🔥 part 2: First time for everything

author’s note: the idea came out of NOWHERE. I reread my The Greens (modern!au) — and then this thing happened. to keep up with the tradition I’m posting it as it is (I may regret it when I wake up lmao), hopefully, some of you can enjoy this silliness! ✨ • Aemond doesn’t lose an eye but he still has a big scar (let’s pretend Luke missed by a couple of inches) • I originally said that he’d be into sports however I’m yet to pick a sport for him so the description is very vague (I’m open to suggestions!)

words: ~3000 (I TRIED to cut it short... but alas)

warnings: none, I think? they just swoon over each other (and a cheeky blond makes an appearance again ;)

⋙ It’s impossible not to know who Aemond Targaryen is when pretty much every girl on campus has a crush on him. The tall athletic guy with chiseled cheekbones and bright eyes who wins one tournament after another, manages to stay at the top of his classes but barely talks to anyone and has a handful of friends. Even the scar on the left side of his face — a faded red stripe from his temple and down to the cheek — only adds to his appeal although you suspect it’s mostly due to people not knowing how he got said scar. Come to think of it, there isn’t much to know about him at all: he’s not on social media, rarely goes to parties, stays out of trouble and doesn’t even like his pictures being taken. There is a certain charm to that mystery yet you also can’t help but respect his intelligence and perseverance. (And you may find him attractive, but that’s a given.)

⋙ You share a few classes with him, and he usually sits nearby although you think it’s purely a coincidence. He once gave you his pen when you forgot yours, and he also sometimes stands behind you in line for coffee in the nearby cafeteria but you never really interact. You catch him looking at you a couple of times and you don’t think much of it. You might’ve thrown a glance or two at him, too, since there’s no crime in that.

⋙ You get paired up for a project by mere chance: your best friend fell sick and his mate missed the class for whatever reason so you and Aemond are the only ones without a partner, and Mr. Harrold tells you to work together. Aemond approaches you when the class is over.

“Hi” — “Hi” you say in unison. There’s a glint of a smile on his lips, his eyes studying your face.

“I’ve got two training sessions today, can we maybe start tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Sure, tomorrow sounds fine,” you nod. “Meet me in the library at 3?”

You quickly discuss the books you’ll need, and he casually asks for your number so you could text him the details. While you’re typing it, you miss the grin that appears on his face. Truth be told, you’re too busy thinking of how good his arms look with his sleeves rolled up.

⋙ The next day, he’s only five minutes late. You don’t even notice, wrapped up in reading, until he rushes in, a tad disheveled and very apologetic. You are about to tell him it’s no big deal when you notice blood on his hand — or more so on his knuckles. He looks like he wants to avoid the subject but you are truly shocked at the sight.

“Should I worry about the other guy?” you muster a smile, looking him over with concern.

“He deserved it,” Aemond mumbles as he sits next to you, averting his gaze.

He goes to dig some books out of his bag when you take his hand — you do so without thinking, it almost comes out as a reflex. While you examine his bruised skin, Aemond pretty much forgets how to breathe.

“It’s not that bad but will swell up in the morning, so you need to apply some ice,” you tell him, fingers gently brushing over his. “Here, this is the next best thing I can think of,” you grab your cup of iced coffee and put it to his knuckles. When you glance up at Aemond, you see him looking at you with a stunned face expression, and you realize that you might’ve overstepped a little.

“I’m sorry, you probably already know what to do without my advice,” you move to pull back the cup, but he suddenly covers your hand with his other palm.

“Don’t,” he breathes out. “This feels nice.”

Within a few seconds, his cheeks turn red.

“The ice, I mean, you were right about applying the ice,” he corrects himself, and you can’t help but smile wider. The most popular guy on campus is blushing because you held his hand, and there’s something very endearing about this moment. Or maybe it’s just him.

You push that thought away and divert the conversation to your assigned project. He keeps his hand intertwined with yours for the rest of the evening, both of you acting like it’s no big deal.

⋙ The next time you see him, he brings you coffee, and somehow he guesses your order perfectly. You meet up a few times a week, and he makes sure to come in time. Always prepared and polite, he buys you coffee regularly and insists on carrying all your books. You now sit together in classes, he shares his secret Spotify account with you and you learn that you share a passion for reading. Aemond also gives you his hoodie when he notices that you’re cold on your way out of the library one evening. He pulls the hoodie up over his head and his T-shirt comes up, too, exposing his lower abdomen and the tight lines of his abs. You take a deep, long breath, pretending that you didn’t see a thing.

And sometimes his hands brush yours and his gaze lingers on your face. But it’s another thing you try not to think of.

⋙ He mentions in passing that his training will get more intense as the competition season begins. At this point, you’ve been meeting for a couple of weeks pretty regularly, and you feel a slight twinge in your heart at the realization that you’ll see him less often. What you don’t expect is for him to stand you up. At any other time, you might’ve cut him some slack, but it just so happened that you are in a really bad mood since the moment you woke up, and him not answering your texts only rile you up.

You are so annoyed, you come into the locker room with little to no hesitation. Most of the guys already left but you still hear a couple of them whistling at you, and you flip them off. Aemond just got out of the shower and when you see him, he already has his jeans on and stands next to his locker searching for a clean shirt.

“Dude, your girl looks pissed,” one of his mates comments, and Aemond gives him a perplexed look. And then he turns to see you, your eyes burning holes in him, and his face pales.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters. “We were supposed to meet, weren’t we?”

“Yep,” you drawl with a frown, and his face falls even more.

He doesn’t have time to explain as you hear another whistle.

“Nice ass,” it’s Jeff, one of the frat boys who’s famous for not keeping his hands to himself. You are about to shut him off but when Jeff looks up at you, his smirk disappears.

“Woah, I didn’t know it was you!” he raises his hands in defense. “My apologies to your ass,” he glances behind your back, terrified. “...To you, I mean my apologies to you!” he backs off. “Hey, it was meant as a compliment, tell your boyfriend I’m not his punching bag!”

“You need to google what a compliment is, you idiot,” you scoff at him, and Jeff all but runs off.

The room is awkwardly quiet, and Aemond’s friends quickly get out, leaving you two alone. He barely has time to open his mouth before you press your hand to his chest, making him stumble back purely out of surprise.

“Care to explain what the hell was that?” you hiss at him, your gaze burning. “My boyfriend?!”

“I didn’t say that, he made an assumption,” Aemond clarifies.

“Jeff was the one you got into a fight with?” you suddenly figure out. “But why?”

“He was talking shit about you,” he says, clearly displeased.

“And you decided it was worth a fight? I could not care less if he — ”

“I do,” Aemond cuts you off. “And I think it was worth it,” he punctuates with so much certainty, it takes you aback.

In the next second, you realize that your hand is still on his bare chest — it’s warm and toned, his muscles tense under your touch — and you are standing very close to each other. It’s very, very hard not to think of.

“Um, thank you, I guess,” you step back with your gaze still on him. “I-I shouldn’t have barged in here, it wasn’t very —”

One of your legs bumps into a bench, your eyes widen — and you are about to trip over when Aemond catches you. With a blink of an eye, his hands are on your waist as he brings you closer again, and this time the distance between you two is even shorter. You involuntarily look at his lips and when you glance back up, you catch him looking at yours.

If he kisses you right now, you won’t mind. In fact, you will probably enjoy it. Probably a lot.

Aemond clears his throat and pulls back.

“I’m sorry that I stood you up, the coach didn’t let us rest for a minute,” he explains with a repentant tone. “I wanted to send you a text, I really did. And then it just went out of my head.”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you give him a wan smile. “You warned me that you would be busy.”

“Still, it was rude on my part,” he insists. “You have any plans for the evening? We can still go to the library, I’m all yours for today.”

The way he phrases it makes your heart skip a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to concentrate.

“They closed earlier,” you sigh. “Something about updating the catalog.”

Aemond only thinks for a second.

“I, um... Live close by. Maybe you can come over? No one will bother us there,” his smile looks sheepish and unsure but there’s a hint of eagerness in his voice. And he is still very much half-naked.

“I happen to be completely free,” you say as your concentration goes out of the window.

⋙ Aemond apologizes again, profusely. He gives apologies in the locker room, on your way out, in the cab — and when you get out of the car and he opens his mouth again — you turn and firmly place your hand over it.

“I think I got it the first time,” you tell him, and he looks amused with your act.

You feel him smiling, his lips tickling your palm, and you move your fingers away as your cheeks heat up.

“Quite fierce, aren’t you,” he remarks.

You don’t notice a sidewalk curb but Aemond does — his hand finds yours when you are a moment away from stumbling again, and he tugs you closer. He doesn’t comment on it, asking you about your day instead. There are a few other parts of your body where you want him to put his hands on, you think.

⋙ His apartment is unexpectedly huge — four bedrooms and a living room, high ceilings and large windows, and you can’t hide your bewilderment. He half-heartedly explains that his dad left it to them after the divorce.

“Oh, so it’s not just yours,” you conclude, relieved. “Makes it look like less of a palace.”

“I have my own, actually,” he almost looks ashamed, and you find his modesty ever so adorable. “I’ve repainted the walls, and the place needs some air. So I’m crushing here at the moment.”

He tells you that his older brother Aegon mostly hangs out in his gallery, Helaena took a week off to visit her friends, and you already know that their youngest — Daeron — studies abroad.

“Mum recently moved in with her boyfriend,” Aemond nonchalantly adds while showing you to his room.

You realize that it’s just the two of you. The thought of it warms up the lower part of your body, anticipation tingling in your abdomen, but you do your best to keep it together.

Luckily, you get easily distracted by the beautiful interior, his sister’s plants and paintings, and rows of photos on the walls, and you try not to gawk at the surroundings. Aemond tries not to gawk at you. You both fail.

“Feel yourself at home, I’ll go look for my charger,” his hand grazes your back after he opens the door. Aemond leaves you standing but the feeling of his touch remains. You have to pinch yourself to get back to reality.

⋙ You see his bookshelf that stretches from one end of the room to the other, and excitement bubbles in your chest as you rush to take a closer look. There’s a plethora of books of all colors and genres, paperback and hardcover, and you energetically look through the rows filled with them. You reach for one of the books on the upper berth, standing on your tiptoes but it causes you to lose balance. The only reason you don’t fall flat on your back is because Aemond’s hand swiftly lands on your waist, steading you. He turns you around to him, and your faces are suddenly only inches apart.

“Are you always this clumsy?” he chuckles lightly, his breath fanning over your skin.

Only when you are around, apparently.

Aemond’s lips part, his brows raising, and he stares at you, surprised. And then you realize that you said it out loud. Before you get a chance to correct yourself, he lets out a laugh, and you feel your face flushing. You close your eyes in embarrassment, trying to steady your breath, and his laughter dies down. He firmly locks his hands around you.

“What’s on your mind?” Aemond murmurs after a minute of silence.

You, you, you. Fearing that there’s still a chance that you are misreading the situation, you vaguely respond:

“A lot of things,” but your voice comes out strained and quiet.

When you don’t hear him replying, you open your eyes — your gaze immediately meeting his. The warmth from his hands slips into your body.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Aemond asks in a low tone, his eyes a shade darker in this lightning. You shake your head because talking seems like an actual challenge right now.

“Kissing you,” he confesses, maintaining eye contact.

You inhale sharply, a wave of relief washing over you. And then something else sparkles inside, tightening your chest, and the well-known burning sensation blossoms right under your navel.

“You should,” you tell Aemond, and it’s the only confirmation he needs.

He crashes his lips into yours with fervor, pulling your chest flush against his and knocking the breath from your lungs. His hand cups your face, guiding you even closer, his mouth greedy and intent with its every movement, and your head goes dizzy with longing. The kiss is both tender and heated, and you lose yourself in the moment, only thinking of how soft and supple his lips are, and how ineffably good they feel.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Aemond mumbles against your mouth.

“Only been a month,” you manage to say while his lips move from your jaw to your neck.

“Long before that,” his words burn the spot just below your ear, making you shiver. “Ever since you argued with Mr. Harrold that Zelda Fitzgerald wrote ‘The Great Gatsby’ and her husband was a total — hmm, how did you call him? Yeah, a total nitwit,” he cackles.

You glance at him with your mouth ajar:

“Aemond, that was last semester.”

“I didn’t know how to approach you,” he admits, abashed. “And I didn’t want it to be weird or to mess it up and — ”

You shut him off with another kiss, and he hums in satisfaction. His thumb softly rubs your cheek while he deepens the kiss, his mouth exploring yours. His other hand dares to move lower, squeezing your hip and making you sigh at the alacrity of his. It’s simultaneously overwhelming and not enough but he still holds back a little, not crossing the line just yet.

“Wow, can’t believe this is finally happening!”

You break the kiss, startled by someone’s voice. A blond guy is leaning on the door frame, a pair of glasses and a grin on his face. Aemond groans into your shoulder, his hands moving to your waist.

“It’s Y/N, right? I’m this dipshit’s brother,” he shamelessly walks closer and extends a hand. You reluctantly go for a handshake, but he plants a quick kiss on yours.

“Aegon,” Aemond says with a warning tone.

“Oh, don’t grumble at me, I’ve been listening to you talk about her for months,” his brother’s smile widens. “Now Hel owes me 50 bucks.”

“Why is that?” you squint at him.

“We made a bet. I said he’d grow a pair and ask you out before the year ends. Glad I was right,” he snickers.

“Well, technically...,” you can help but laugh.

“He still didn’t?” Aegon fakes a gasp. “I apologize on his behalf, I taught him better than that!”

“Can you please fuck off already?” Aemond glares at him, irritated, and Aegon rolls his eyes but takes the hint.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, kids,” he winks at you and walks away.

“I like him,” you exclaim.

“I don’t,” Aemond retorts and pulls you in for a kiss as soon as the door closes. “But I will let him win the bet.”

“Is that so?” you cock your head with a smile.

“Yeah,” he pauses, his face getting serious, and he almost looks scared while asking: “Will you go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to,” you agree without a second thought, and his lips twitch upward, making your heart swell with affection. “Where do you plan on taking me?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Aemond says cryptically, his eyes never leaving yours. “May be more than just one date,” he sounds both daring and pleading. You gently trace the line of his scar, and he relaxes at the movement.

“So you are all mine for a while, huh?” you joyfully assume, earning a laugh from him, and he leans in, his hand lovingly caressing your face.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” he whispers before closing the distance between your lips. ➡ part 2: First time for everything

• listen, I looked at his face and I thought there’s no way girls won’t find him attractive, with or without a scar. so yeah, this version of Aemond is more confident. I may do a second part? maybe more headcanons (love confessions, meeting his family, moving in together, etc.)

• I kinda want to write for Aegon, too... I mean, just look at the original photo and tell me he doesn’t seem like the sweetest fuckboy ever! tagging @greenowlfactif, @kyuupidwrites since you asked (I hope that’s fine 🥺)

✨ recent fic: “My first choice” (she’s Aegon’s bestie, inspired by “Little women”) 💌 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————————

I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 14

Part 13

Eddie opened his door to a line of first graders, chatting happily as they did despite the early morning. He greeted them all. Shawn came in quietly, like he usually did but there was something a bit more somber about him. Eddie kept an eye on him and his mood seemed to brighten as the day went on, so he didn’t think to mention it to Steve. 

But then the next day Shawn was late to school. And then the day after that he was absent entirely. Shawn hadn’t been late or absent a single day this year. He’d been gunning for that perfect attendance award. It prompted Eddie to call Steve during his lunch, not as a concerned teacher, but as someone closer. 

Steve didn’t answer the first time and Eddie tried not to get too worried. They were both getting busy with work. Maybe Shawn was dealing with a seasonal flu. There were a million things it could be. After the school day ended, he was about to call again, when Steve’s name flashed on his screen.

“Hey”, he picked up immediately.

“Hey”, Steve answered. “Sorry, I saw your call earlier, I just couldn’t-it wasn’t a good time. And I should have sent you a text that Shawn wouldn’t be in today.”

“It’s no worries, babe”, Eddie said as he walked out of the school. “Is everything okay?”

He thought he heard an intake of breath. Or maybe a sob, or a hiccup? It was hard to tell like Steve was covering his mouth.

“I thought Shawn might be sick but are you okay?”

“I’m…a little under the weather. So I’m gonna have to take a rain check on you coming over.”

“I can still come over, keep Shawn company while nursing you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to babysit.”

Eddie smiled tenderly as he got into his van. “You know it’s not like that when it’s Shawn.” Eddie was already considering him his own pup. “Besides, weren’t you supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow?”

….”Okay, only if you don’t mind getting up early on a Saturday morning.”

The next day, Steve watched the clock with dread. Billy had been coming around once a day to antagonize him. But he wasn’t much of an early riser. The last thing he needed was for him and Eddie to cross paths. So far his ex had been a nuisance, but hadn’t actually done anything criminal. At least not in this house. Steve would’ve felt silly for calling the cops. 

But the stress had him aching and tired and struggling to do even basic things. He didn’t want to admit that it was rejection sickness. Because that felt like admitting he wanted Billy. He was able to get Shawn dressed and gave him a list of items they needed from the store. 

“I need to lie down, I’m still not feeling well. When Mr. Eddie comes, let him know that’s all it is, but I still don’t wanna contaminate him, okay?”

“Okay”, Shawn nodded. 

Steve hid away in his room, able to hear and see Eddie’s distinct van when it pulled up. He texted him, telling him that the door was unlocked and to let himself in. They waved to each other from the window and then he heard Eddie greet Shawn. He hoped Eddie would be satisfied with Shawn’s explanation and didn’t come up. If he smelled him now, Steve would have to tell him everything.

But he heard them leave and he checked the window to be sure, getting there just in time to see them both waving at him. Steve smiled, blowing Eddie a kiss which he pretended to jump for, catching in his hand and bringing to his heart before stuffing it in his pocket. 

Was he in love?

He might be in love.

-------------------------

Eddie pushed the cart forward with Shawn sitting criss-cross in the basket, reading the back of a cereal box. Eddie had the list Steve wrote clutched tight in his hand.

“Hey pup, your dad wrote blue dish soap? Do you know why he’s specifically put blue?”

Shawn looked up and shrugged, leaving Eddie in the dark still. A particular scent, he could understand. Dish soaps came in all sorts of fragrances. But Steve had just written down ‘blue’.

“Can we get candy?”, Shawn asked, putting the cereal box down.

Eddie knew better than to give into a child’s sweet tooth whims. But he also knew he might be craving something chocolatey later. And that Steve could definitely use a pick me up.

“You know what’s better than candy?”, Eddie said before grabbing some premade cookie dough, causing Shawn to gasp and get a sparkle in his eyes.

It wasn’t on the list, but whatever Steve was coming down with, fresh baked cookies couldn’t hurt.  He drove back to the house, not really taking notice of the blue car driving in the opposite direction, but definitely noticing as Shawn sank down in his seat, like he didn’t want to be seen. He kept that to himself though, as he rose back up when they parked. Eddie handed Shawn the lighter bag of groceries and they came inside. Steve was on the kitchen floor, cleaning up glass.

That alone wasn’t too alarming. What had Eddie on high alert was how sour he smelled. Anxious, afraid, like he’d been spooked.

“Watch out Shawn”, Eddie said, taking the bag from him. “You hang out with some tv while I help your dad out, yeah?”

“Okay”, Shawn nodded, scurrying off. Eddie set the bags on the kitchen table and knelt in front of Steve.

“Hey”, he whispered. “Did something happen?”

Steve looked up, bags under his eyes that weren’t evident from the window. Compounded with his scent and Eddie had a hunch that he wished wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry”, Steve said, brushing the rest of the glass into the dustpan. “I lost my balance and- I’m sorry.”

“That’s nothing to apologize for”, Eddie said, rising up with him and watching him throw the glass away. “But something’s up, I can smell it on you.”

Steve stiffened. “Smell it? Smell what?”

“Steve…are you…going through-”, Eddie cleared his throat and fumbled with his hands. “Is this rejection sickness? Because I thought I was pretty open about courting you and I thought things were going well-”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not you Eddie, I promise. It’s…” Steve bit his lip and whimpered and Eddie wasn’t strong enough to stay away. He crowded Steve against the counter, hands on either side of him while he rubbed their cheeks together. This close, Steve’s scent was more nuanced. There wasn’t just the stench of a sickness, but something else there. The hint of another alpha. He looked into Steve’s eyes, a heavy question in his gaze.

“Billy, my ex, Shawn’s sire, he showed up a few days ago”, Steve admitted, lip trembling a bit. “And he’s been showing up once a day just to, I don’t know, terrorize me, convince me to take him back? I don’t know what his actual goal is.”

“Stevie, baby, why didn’t you say anything the first time?”, Eddie asked, cradling his face. “Did he hurt you? Or Shawn?”

Steve shook his head. “He hasn’t hurt us. He doesn’t even really touch Shawn that much he just”, he hesitated before recounting to Eddie what had been happening the past few days. 

He dreaded hearing someone at the door. But he also knew if he didn’t answer, Billy was likely to break down the door. He distinctly remembered the alpha doing so one time in their old apartment when he thought Steve was cheating on him. So he opened the door and Billy always shouldered his way in.

In his mind, Steve knew a fight between them could go either way. That wasn’t the issue. The problem was subjecting Shawn to that. It was why no matter what, he’d never initiate a fight with Billy. It was why he didn’t want to call the cops unless either of their lives were in danger. It was also why he tried not to escalate things when he could.

So when Billy grabbed him, he didn’t fight back. He only spoke up when Billy pushed him against the couch and started to scent him.

“Get off!”, he hissed, hands pushing back now.

“Careful, I’m sure Shawn can hear us. Now is he gonna come down and see his parents fighting, or having a friendly wrestling match?”

Steve growled and Billy matched it with one of his own, teeth bared. He came by everyday, forcing his scent on Steve, determined to wipe the other smell on him. It was horrifically similar to their relationship before. All the possessiveness and roughness that came with it, none of the tenderness of actually being claimed. It was like he was resetting Steve’s hormones with each scenting.

Steve took in a deep breath. “You just missed him. We had an argument because he wanted to get rid of the things that smelled like you.”

“Babylove, I asked if he hurt you.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t really he-”

“Scenting you by force, pushing you around like that even if it doesn’t make you bruise - that’s hurting you sweetheart.”

Steve collapsed against him and Eddie held him tight. Steve said he had just missed Billy and Eddie hoped he counted himself lucky. He tried to keep anger from making his scent bitter. Steve didn’t need that right now. 

Shawn poked his head in. “Can we make the cookies now?”

“Cookies?” Steve looked up from Eddie’s shoulder. “You didn’t stick to the list?”

Eddie shrugged. “Are you gonna say no to warm chocolate chips?”

“Nooo”, Steve sighed.

Eddie spent the rest of the day there, as he already did most weekends. But as day turned into night and they settled into bed, Eddie asked something of Steve that he didn’t think he’d be asking for a while.

“Let me move in with you.”

“What?”

“At least until Billy backs off.”

Steve pretended to still be brushing his hair in the mirror. “I don’t want you running into him. I thought that was obvious.”

Eddie came up from behind, arms wrapping around his waist as he watched their reflections. “I’m serious about courting you. I want you to accept my bite one day.” He kissed Steve’s shoulder three times, bare in the tank top he was wearing. “And that means I’m willing to fight for you. Including a pissy ex.” Billy couldn’t see what a prize Steve was when he had him. But Eddie could and he was never letting him go. “Do you want it Stevie?”

He met Steve’s eyes through the mirror and kissed the back of his neck, then the side of it, just missing his mating gland. Throughout the day, Steve’s scent had mellowed out and now it was turning peppery with arousal.

“Yes”, Steve breathed out, hips rocking back.

“Then I’m gonna earn it.” Eddie turned Steve around and dropped down to his knees. “And I think I’ll do a little earnin’ now”, he grinned.

Part 15

Taglist

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre @a-lovely-craziness @sharingisntkaren

[abigails-gf]

abby anderson x f!reader.

a/n: hi! (i couldn't find the original ask in my inbox so here's a screenshot!^^) it's been so long since i last wrote something. so i apologize if this isn't as good as my other work! <33 (also hope it's ok i made it an f!reader !!) since anon didn't specify what reader might be insecure about, i went with things i've been insecure of lately: my body and all of my friends making progress (having jobs, going back to school) etc. while i struggle to get a job, haha. so, ehm... sorry if this isn't so good. i hope you like it though !! please don't be shy, send me requests! i seriously need to get back into writing !! and any feedback is welcomed!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 mwaah ! 💌

how you can help palestine, israeli themes in tlou, more ressources !

"baby, hurry. we're gonna be late." abby said, coming out of the bathroom. you were standing in front of your shared closet, staring at it.

abby looked at you and sighed. "what's wrong?"

you two had been invited to dine out with a few friends, to celebrate one of your closest friends' getting the job they wanted.

you shook your head. "i have nothing to wear." you answered. she chuckled. "kiddin' me? half of our closet is yours." she walked towards you while buttoning her shirt. "c'mon, what's wrong?" she asked once more.

you looked down at the clothes scattered on the floor. "nothing fits me the way i want it to fit. nothing. i look awful in all my clothes! i don't even fit in some of them!" you finally let out, frustrated, on the brink of tears.

abby hugged you. you hugged her back tightly. "i'm ugly, my clothes don't fit me anymore. i don't fucking know what to wear!" you cried. abby hugged you and rubbed your back. "shh, s'alright. don't be so mean to my girl." she whispered.

you both stayed in silence for a moment before you pulled away, looking down at your body. "what am i supposed to do? go out naked?" you sat down on the bed. "what now? i'm supposed to go and celebrate my friend getting a new job while i've been struggling to find one for years? supposed to pretend i'm doing okay, feeling good?" you scoffed, tears falling down your cheeks.

abby sat down next to you.

"hey, hey. look at me." abby spoke softly. you looked into her eyes and took a deep breath. "we don't have to go if all of this overwhelms you, okay? i can just call them and say one of us is sick." you shook your head.

"we all go at our own pace. s'not your fault it's harder for you to find a job. it's not your fault people don't answer your applications or reject you. okay? you're doin' your best, sweetheart. i've seen you overwork yourself, trying to perfect your CV, rehearsing for interviews. you're doing the best you can. i promise." she smiled softly, taking your hand in hers. "as for your clothes not fitting you..." she looked at the floor filled with clothes. "it's not your fault either." she looked back into your eyes. "clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around. okay?" you calmed down a little. "if these clothes don't make you feel pretty, we can go and get you some new ones. new ones that will fit you, and make you feel as pretty are you are." you nodded.

"you're the most beautiful woman i know, sweetheart. prettiest girl." she said to you. "and you work so hard. it's not your fault if people can't see that, it's not your fault if people can't see your potential. you're doing your best and that's what matters most. alright?" you smiled a little, her words cheering you up a little.

"now, we're gonna pick out some clothes from your closet. some you feel comfortable in, and then we'll go out and have some fun. and tomorrow we can sort out the clothes that don't fit you anymore. how's that sound?"

abby always knew how to calm you down, to reassure you. she always knew what to say.

"sounds good." you said. you kissed abby's cheek. "thank you for always putting up with me." she chuckled and kissed your forehead. "no, thank you for trusting me, baby."

she helped you pick an outfit, helped you do your hair. she made sure you felt comfortable in how you looked, made sure you felt somewhat pretty. she held your hand at dinner, encouraged you to tell your friends about the interviews you did and how they went.

they told you the same thing she had told you earlier "it's their loss if they can't see the potential you have."

you all spent a nice evening, around a nice dinner, talking about your lives. abby was glad to see her girlfriend feeling better, talking proudly about her progress.

abby knew how hard it was for you, to speak positively about yourself. she was proud that you managed to do so tonight.

[steveharringtonat3am]

helloo! I was thinking about Steve being soft about reader. Reader is sick and can't take medicine, like reader has a fear of swallowing pills something like that and Steve is there to help the reader. Thank you very much!! I hope you're having a good day too! 💕

You’ve always hating being sick. You can’t really remember when it started, maybe when you were small and got a fever so high your mom had to run a cold cloth over your forehead so you wouldn’t overheat. Or maybe when you caught that cold and your throat was so scratchy you wanted to just pull it out.

But you weren’t a little kid anymore, so you had to tough it out.

The next day at work was horrible. Your whole body hurt, your throat was aching and dry no matter how much water you drank, and you couldn’t stop sneezing. You told Steve you were busy with work, to avoid the daily lunch break phone call. You knew he would hear your illness in your voice and you couldn’t bear to burden him like that.

Steve was the most caring boyfriend you’d ever had. He was always going out of his way to do things like picking up your favourite snacks, filling up your car with gas, even taking bugs from your apartment outside. He had never seen you sick before and you just know he’ll go overboard.

You barely manage the drive home but the need to curl on the couch and watch movies all night is enough to push you through.

‘Dinner is a problem for later.’ You think to yourself as you toss your coat onto a chair, stumbling to your bedroom to change into one of Steves’ sweaters and a pair of pyjama pants. A chill has suck it’s way into your bones and you quickly burrow onto your couch and wrap a blanket around yourself. You about to turn on a movie when your phone begins to buzz. A glance at the screen, glowing with Steves’ cheesy smile and you wince. He knows your home and he definitely knows something is up since you always call on your drive home since you like the company.

“Hi baby!” You pick up, trying to keep the sore throat out of your voice.

“Hey babe. Haven’t talked to you all day! You want me to come over? I can bring takeout.” You grip your blanket in uncertainty. Your apartment is definitely riddled with germs and getting Steve sick would be worse than him seeing you like this.

“N-no no it’s alright. I’m feeling a bit tired so I’m probably going to bed now.” A weak lie that you know he’ll see right through.

“…It’s six o’clock. Are you feeling alright baby?” He’s so concerned you could cry.

“Yep! Great. Timeforbedokaybyeiloveyou!” You hang up quickly, tossing your phone to the other side of the couch in embarrassment. Hopefully you’ll wake up better tomorrow and you can pretend this never happened.

The knock on the door startles you awake. You blink as your eyes come into focus, crawling out of the warm cocoon you had built to stumble to the door. The light of your oven reads 7:06. You swing the door open and your heart sinks immediately. Steve, still in his work uniform, holds bags of takeout, a soft grin on his face.

“Hi sweetheart.” He greets you with a soft kiss on the cheek before slipping into your apartment. You lock the door, guilt settling in your stomach.

When you join him in the kitchen, he’s unpacking the food. He sets a large container of soup in the microwave and your mouth waters just a bit.

“I could tell you were feeling a bit under the weather so I got you some wonton soup from that place you like. And I picked up some tylenol in case you were achy and some regular cold medicine if you want that. It’s cherry flavoured.” He smiles so sweet at you that you might cry.

“I-I can’t take tylenol.” You know you should thank him, but the bottle of pills is the first thing on your mind.

“Why not?”

“I just…I don’t like swallowing pills. They feel like they get stuck in my throat and they just don’t-don’t go down.” It sounds stupid saying it but you know you should. You had never been able to get down pills, unless they were so tiny you didn’t notice.

“That’s alright babe. How about I split it and you try that?” You inspect the pills as you decide. The groove in the middle means splitting it is safe, and you think you could manage each half.

“Okay…” You watch carefully as he severs the pill with a knife, grabbing you a glass of water to wash it down. He hands it to you and pretends to not watch.

It takes you a second to get over the mental hurdle, placing the piece in your mouth and immediately taking a gulp of water. The pill manages to get lost in the liquid and you swallow with ease. You take the other piece and swallow once more. When it goes down, you show Steve with a smile and he grins proudly.

“Good job babe!” He pours you some soup, grabbing a bowl of fried rice for himself as you both head to the couch to eat. You relax into him as the soup calms your throat.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Steve.” You smile up at him and he mirrors it.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”