#or why seeing that dusty mirror makes them feel so... wrong...

[sinsofbeauty]

Lovie, could we possibly get a bit of fluff in a Johnny x chubby!reader? Like she can’t find anything to wear bc she doesn’t feel like anything she puts on is flattering and she looks bad in it and is feeling really upset?Asking for a friend ofc 😅

Dinner

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Chubby Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Established relationship, Pet names (Bunny, Baby, Honey), Softer Johnny

Requested?: Yeaahhhh

Overview: You can’t seem to find a single thing to wear, and it’s bringing your mood down lower and lower. Though when your boyfriend comes in the room, he tries to comfort you the best he can.

A/n: Literally love this idea!! I gotchu bb ;3

“Y/nnnn,” 

Heavy footsteps had entered the quiet room, belt buckling under it designated flaps as brown eyes gazed upon your backside. Through the dusty window, the morning sun shone, casting a drab ray of light on your figure. Johnny, who had just stepped in finishing up with his belt buckle, peering you down as you observed yourself in the mirror. You appear upset, frowning when you see yourself and attempting to modify the dress you wore to fit your physique. After glancing at the stacked garments on the bed in the corner, Johnny's gaze shifted to the open closet, which appeared to be nearly empty. 

“We goin’ thru clothes today bunny?” When he noticed your face, he raised his eyebrows and questioned. 

Glancing across at the bed, you suddenly became dissatisfied. In a short period of time, so many different outfits were worn, yet none of them seemed to attract your interest. “I wish,” You stare back in the mirror and say, huffing a little. “I’m just… trying to figure out what I want to wear.”

“What’s wrong with that dress?” Johnny asked, gesturing to the one you were wearing. 

What was the issue with it? The colors? The patterns? Perhaps the horrible way it molded itself around your body? Nothing you've worn in the past twenty minutes has made you feel good about yourself; everything just looked awful. From pretty blouses paired with skirts to dresses that are long and short? Simply put, you weren't feeling it today. You felt so insecure about it that it upset you. Even though it wasn't his fault, the mere question from Johnny disturbed you. You felt yourself involuntarily tugging at your stomach in an attempt to cover it up.

“Just look at it…”

Johnny had indeed taken one good look at you. His attention swept over your entire body, taking in every exquisite curve that your clothing effortlessly embraced. The thin material snatched your breasts and the remainder of your waist as it flowed down around your hips. He didn't find anything wrong with the apparel or the way you looked wearing it. The man gave you a small shake of his head before raising his gaze once more to meet yours. 

“You don’ like it?” He asked, taking a couple steps towards you. His head loomed side to side as your facial expression grew more and more confused. “I think it’s beautiful on ya’ baby.” 

Johnny had taken your hand and lifted your arm above your head, spinning you around to face him. His eyes observed you closely in it’s half lidded state before turning you back around. Facing the mirror you were looking at before all you could make was a disgusted face. Though that soon faded when the man pressed his body up against you from behind. Your eyes became a little wider as he began fiddling with the straps and smoothing out the creases that were sticking out of your dress. 

“This ones a lil’ tight,” Johnny murmured softly, his voice like a low rumble bouncing off walls. 

“Is it?” You say, your chest suddenly shifting with disappointment. “I… don’t like the way I look in it.”

“Why not?” His voice hinted with curiosity.

“It’s just… I’ve tried so many things. They don’t look appealing, most… not as flattering as I’d hoped.” 

Johnny’s movements stopped, which made you look up at the mirror. “I think it’s more than flattering.” A smile appears on his face when his large hands take your hips. “Y’know what I think?” 

“Hm?”

“I think I could take ya’ out in this one. How ‘bout dinner?”

“Johnny, this dress isn’t good enough for dinner.” 

His smile widened as all he could do was chuckle. “Really sugar? Cause I could jus’ eat chu’ up~.” When Johnny began to attack you with kisses, you squealed and laughed as he buried his face in your neck. Your body was enveloped by his arms, leaving you exposed to his comforting warmth. His teeth scraped and nibbled at your throat as you reached for his hair and yanked him away. “Ah- careful! You’ll start pullin’ on other strings-“

“Johnny Slaughter-“

“Y/n L/n,” His eyes squinted at you, making your cheeks fluster. “I think that dress is lovely on ya’. Anythin’ ya’ wear, you’re a beautiful woman.” His head leaned down and kissed your temple. “My beautiful woman.”

He just knew how to make your heart flutter. Given that Johnny wasn't always good at consoling people, you treasured these moments. Something like this, where he truly sought to convey his feelings, even though he wasn't always the one to do so? It sets butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile when you saw Johnny as considerate and positive as opposed to cold and uncaring.

“There’s the smile I like to see,” He said with a chuckle, planting a firm kiss on your cheek. “Can I get a kiss?”

“Hmm, no.” 

“Give me a damn kiss woman.”

You giggle moving your head, your lips colliding with your lovers as you both hum in sync. All he could do was nuzzle his head with yours when he pulled back. “You’re awfully… cuddly today.” 

Withdrawing from you, he grabs your hand and spins you around to face him. “Don’ like it?”

“No- No I like it!” You say placing your hands on his chest and patting him softly. “It’s just a little… different?”

“Is it? Ya’ like it when I’m more stern and rough wit’ ya’?”

“It’s what I’m used to honey,” Johnny gave you a mischievous look and a huff when you lightly tapped his face with your palm. After that you made your way over to bed, piled with clothes that you’d taken from your closet. 

“I’m serious though,” He says, the heavy footsteps of his boots trailing from behind you. The man’s hand had taken yours, lowering it as it held one of the dresses you put on before. You look up at him, confused with your eyebrows well raised. He takes the dress from your hand and looks at it, before placing it back down on the bed. “I wanna take ya’ out.”

“If you think taking me out will make me feel better-”

“How ‘bout our spot?” He said, making you pause your words. “Anythin’ ya’ want. I’ll even throw in some drinks if that’s whatcha like.”

You gave Johnny a major side eye before sighing, closing your eyes and running your hand through your hair. “So persuasive,” You state, making him chuckle. “Fine, but we’re coming straight home afterwards.”

[your-favblondie]

The Genius

ART CREDIT: novalise1 on Twitter

(I found this on Pinterest so if I'm wrong please correct me)

Hi again, thank you guys so much for the amazing support on my last post!! And I hope this post also lives up to your guy's expectations.

Word Count: 2.1k (and somehow 11k characters?! TuT)

-----Younger Armin ( Bowl Cut ) -----

Armin wasn't exactly the most social type back then, so I imagine for you two to get close enough to date you must have spent quite a bit of time together.

I can think of a few ways you two may have met and gotten close. Maybe you guys sat next to each other in classes, were sparring partners, or maybe you were there for Armin all the times Mikasa and Eren seemed to have forgotten he was also a part of their friend group.

It had been just a few minutes after lights out when Sasha shook me out of bed and yelled whispered for me to grab my coat and follow her. By the time we were out of the cabin a few of the other girls had gotten up and were grabbing a few items. Sasha led our small group until we reached a clearing in the forest, a good distance from the bases. "Sasha, what's all this?" I asked her as the rest of our group ran over to their own friends. "It's a party, Duh." She said looking at me with a goofy smile until Connie yelled for her to come help him roll a joint. I watched her run off and then made my way to a group of my classmates sitting in a circle. Jean, Ymir, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin Arlet all sat around a small bonfire. Spewing out a few 'hey's and 'hello's before claiming a seat in the circle. Jean and Ymir were in some argument over brunettes or blondes being cuter, and next to them Eren sat trying to carve a spoon out of a small log. Mikasa and Armin were talking about something I couldn't really make out over the sound of the fire crackling and Jean and Ymir arguing. As I watched the fire crackle all I had on my mind was why the hell Sasha had brought me along. It's not like I'm antisocial but I hadn't really established many close friends and the ones I had were human meatballs now. So a party wasn't the most comfortable place to hang out. Before I could continue my thoughts I got distracted by Mikasa getting up pretty abruptly and running after Eren who had somehow broken the log he was carving and wanted to look for a new one. Doubt we'd see them again tonight. My eyes flicked over to Armin and as we looked at each other, a mirror of slight shock reflected on both our faces. Before either pf us could look away I burst into laughter at Mikasa's weird behavior and Armin just stared at me even more confused than before. "I'm sorry it's just I never see anyone so serious act like that, I'm not trying to be rude she just catches me off guard," I tell him, feeling like he may have kinda misunderstood me. A shy smile pulls on his lips as he looks back at me. "Yea it is kinda odd isn't it?"

And that's where your friendship bloomed from. A right place and right time you could say. Though Sasha says it's all thanks to her.

Over time the two of you became really close. While Armin read you'd sit near him fiddling with your own hobbies. Sometimes you'd get caught up in him and end up spending a few moments watching him while his eyes scoured over dusty pages.

Armin was such a sweet friend, always asking how you are, being there to talk, explaining the stuff you don't understand from class to you a million times until you understand.

And once again you both were at a party when your guy's relationship finally takes the next step.

Through a stupid game of truth or dare...

Sasha scans over each and every one of us as she carefully picks her victim. "Jean!" She exclaims and Jean looks at her with an annoyed expression. Sasha and Connie have been picking on him all night, each time either giving him the truth of exposing his crush on Mikasa or the dare of letting them draw on his face. This time was no different as Sasha added a small horse on his forehead that would definitely not be gone by tomorrow. After Sasha got done we all burst out laughing. "Hey!" Jean yelled, "It's my turn alright so shut it!" And of course, I had responded to him with a snarky "Okay, Horse face" Jean turned to me with a sarcastic smile and asked me truth or dare. "Dare" I chose nervously. Jean turns to Connie and they start to whisper between themselves before Jean turns to me with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Kiss Armin."

So now here you and Armin were. At first, he'd be kinda shy about y'all's relationship but I could see you bringing out a more confident side of him.

He would be the type to remember all the little anniversaries, picking you a small bouquet for your first month.

Now I can't see him being great at making gifts but he would try his hardest!

Would definitely choose you as his partner for almost all group activities. Don't think that means he's gonna let you do no work, oh no no no. This man would rather teach you it a million times than let you get by being ignorant. (Sees this as an act of service kinda love lol) Told you before with the most serious face that " Knowledge was the greatest currency he knew"

Speaking of acts of service, that and praise is probably his love language. Of course, he would love holding your hand, a little bit of cuddling, or a few pecks on the cheek. But when he wants to show his love for you he'd tell you what he's thinking and just genuinely spend a lot of time with you.

I can't see him being big on any forms of PDA, except hand-holding. Hear me out though, I think he'd be the type to hold pinkies instead though.

I could see him writing you hundreds of love letters he'd never give to you but be too scared to get rid of them in case someone else (Jean and Connie) read them, or God forbid you saw them.

He would swap books with you if you were an avid reader. ( Would want for you guys to make matching bookmarks as a kinda of date!! )

But if you were more of a sporty type then he'd definitely love to watch you play, even if he cares nothing for the game itself. Maybe even give you some pointers he noticed or help you strategize. After watching you for awhile he would be able to go on like hour-long rants breaking down each and every little detail and rule of the game and way overthinking it.

Now if you guys for whatever have a fight he'd be quick to apologize because he'd never want you mad at him. (Still believes he's right though, just won't tell you that )

Definitely has a few red flags and will work on some of them.

When he's struggling with all the things going on with Eren, one of his main stress relievers would be you playing with his hair, tracing your nails against his scalp.

If you ask realllllyyyy nicely he just might let you braid his hair or tie it up. Even though he knows he won't hear the end of it from the others.

Surprised you a few times with flower rings he made for you.

I could see him being really involved in the wedding planning. If it was up to him either a light purple or sea blue color theme.

In a more modern au, I could see him offering to paint your nails for you if you ever complain about it being able to get them done. He would spend hours trying to perfect it and maybe it didn't match the reference perfectly but they were perfect to you ♡

(These are less relationship-focused and more so things I think about Armin )

Struggles so much with Eren always doing everything so rashly and getting into trouble that he never lets anyone help with it. I feel like he may have had a fear of being replaced or left behind by Eren and Mikasa because he isn't as strong as them.

Just someone tell him he's making the right choices and that he can't make everything right. He needs to hear that.

Jean and him are really close and hang out a lot. Jean is a way more chill and less stressful friendship for Armin compared to half of his other friendships. I can see Armin feeling like he needs to be a therapist friend for everyone, outside of just Eren and Mikasa too, big people pleaser.

Jean just really knows how to chill and not ask a lot of Armin, of course they've talked about heavy stuff before but it's a lot more talking from both of them rather than Armin needing to comfort the other person. Every once in awhile Jean actually is the therapist for Armin.

He does grow out of that though. Starts to become a lot more set in reality after seeing all the deaths in the recon missions. Some meaningless little drama isn't something he needs to focus on helping a fellow cadet out with. Still holds onto some of his people-pleasing tendencies but has figured out a lot of his priorities in his personal life.

I think Armin truly believed that fighting those bullies back in his childhood wouldn't have been the right choice and wasn't just because he was weaker.

I could see him knowing how to play a ton of card games that he learned from his grandpa.

I also think at one point he learned how to sew from Eren's mom. Eren would tease him by saying things about how he's "finally fitting into his girly hair" Then when he actually tries it and sees how hard it is and how much better Armin was he quits the teasing comments.

I think Armin has a lot of trust issues in almost everyone after figuring out Annie was a traitor. To him, they seemed pretty close and had a good understanding of each other. But Annie's betrayal really shattered some of his innocence and trust in the world.

One time he told Connie that if he walked around barefoot he could get flesh-eating worms. Connie was a bit more than traumatized by that information.

As sweet as Armin seems he is honestly so manipulative. It can hardly be noticed by anyone except maybe Commander Erwin or Levi but Armin's a bit too smart to try it on them. He accidentally tried to manipulate Commander Erwin one day over something small and when Erwin subtly commented on it he almost died of shock.

I could see Armin having a lot of respect for his superiors but not being the type to follow them blindly. Like the smart kid who isn't afraid to correct the teacher. And yes he was that type of student, to an annoying extent.

Armin as a student mostly just studied the material he was being tested on to a point where he was confident he knew it. And then would dig extremely deep into any topics that interest him. He knew every type of rock that existed inside the walls but couldn't remember his 12 multiple facts.

He definitely isn't antisocial or introverted. A little shy, yes, but mainly he's just a extrovert or ambivert who's not very loud. In no way has he ever been afraid of talking to people or making his thoughts known.

Speaking of talking to people, him and Hange are total geek besties. The spent hours looking at the hardened titan skin fragment and theorizing on all sorts of topics

I think when he was younger he saw a really huge pond and thought he had some how found the ocean inside the walls.

Probably would spend days going on picnics with his parents and reading in flower fields before the wall break. Once tried to bring Eren and Mikasa on one and never got any reading done.

This man's library card would be personalized in his favorite color (sea blue) and bedazzled.

I could see Armin being a really big Jazz and blue grass guy. Mostly because it's non-lyrical and doesn't tend to distract him as easily.

Would bust down to some Megan thee stallion and nasty redd. I mean, look at that stance-

————————————————————

Sorry to all those hoping for older Armin, I STILL haven't watched season 3/4 of AoT so I don't really have too many thoughts on older Armin other than that ma is SOOO FINEE Soon enough I'll write for him, and yes there will be another poll for writings posted after this post!! I like when you guys interact with the story's makes it feel really personal. And thank you again to everyone who liked and reposted my last post!! It did so much better than I ever expected. A Big thank you to all my new followers. I'm so glad to have you guys as followers!! And I hope this post is just as good as the other if not better.

[girafficparka]

Tagged by @continuous-spec for a WIP. Here’s a little something from Advanced Comparative Anatomy - the sequel to my me2 shakarian fanfic Comparative Anatomy (you can find it on ao3).

This sequel (to be set just prior to and during me3) is a long way from being posted on ao3, but I’ll do anything for @continuous-spec so, here we go:

~~~

He was surprised to find his room exactly as he had left it, all those years ago, when he had left for the active duty portion of his military training at 19. He had returned a handful of times when on leave, moving out for good when he joined up with C-SEC several years later. It wasn’t dusty or anything - it has obviously been care for during his long absence - but he was surprised the room hadn’t been repurposed into…something. He suspected utility, versus nostalgia, had been the cause. Why change up a perfectly good bedroom?

Garrus placed his bag on a table and went to the closet. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. In his duffle bad he had a set of fancy clothes from Kasumi, a few changes of undersuits for his armor, a few spare heat sinks just in case, but not much else. While armor worked fine for dinner on the Citadel, on Palaven turians didn’t wear their armor unless they were on active duty. He would have to ask his dad for a change of clothes. Garrus turned to go do just that but was stopped by a bundle of cloth being thrown in his face.

Once he had pulled the clothing from his eyes he caught Solana smirking at him from the doorway. “I figured you only had guns in that bag. It’s Dad’s so, you know, don’t spill anything on it,” she said before wandering off. Garrus sighed and closed the door.

He glanced down at his omni-tool to check the time - not quite enough time to take a full shower, but he could freshen up a bit. Taking his clothes, he moved into the attached bathroom and proceeded to splash water on his face, neck, cowl, and hands. He ran a buffer down his fringe a few times and checked the effect in the mirror: good enough. He began to change his clothing and then had a moment of panic when he realized Solana hadn’t gotten him gloves.

While not really necessary for a family dinner, Garrus had a feeling his father would not miss Garrus’ dulled claws. Being a former C-SEC officer, he knew exactly what conclusions Castis would make.

Garrus left the bathroom and went to Solana’s room - down and across the hall from his own - and knocked. “Sol?” he called. Through the closed door she softly replied, “It’s open.”

Garrus opened the door to find Sol sitting at her desk, leaning back in her chair and staring at him. She raised a brow-plate in a questioning glance.

“I was wondering if Dad had a pair of gloves I could borrow,” he said.

Solana looked even more confused. “Gloves? But you’re home, why would you need…what’s wrong with your hands?” she asked suddenly, standing up and marching towards him. Garrus briefly thought about hiding them behind his back, but that felt childish.

He regretted his hesitation when Solana grabbed his hand and lifted it up between them. “Why are your…talons blunted? Garrus, are you dating an asari?!”

Garrus nearly choked. “W-what? No! And how do you know…I’ve just been too busy to sharpen them. Why-”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m 26. I know why turians blunt their claws.”

Garrus felt heat rise up his neck. “I…don’t want to talk about this right now, Sol.”

Solana gave him a look of such disappointment that Garrus was reminded, shockingly, of their father. She dropped his hand. “What else is new?” she said, turning her back to him to return to her seat.

“Sol-”

“Gar, if you aren’t here to talk to me, to tell me something, anything, about who you are now and what you’ve been doing, then I guess…I’ll just see you downstairs.” she said, sounding defeated, younger. Garrus sighed. He closed Solana’s door and then turned back to her. She looked up at him with carefully guarded hope.

“Can I at least sit before we begin the interrogation?” he asked and Solana’s expression broke into a smile. She waved her hand to her mattress.

“Absolutely. Make yourself comfortable. I have a lot of questions.” she said. She turned her chair to face him fully, now.

Garrus sat down, glancing at her excited expression with wariness. “I can’t promise I can answer everything…right now. I’d still like to speak with Dad first. Hell, you can listen in, but I don’t want to have to tell that part twice so…”

“Who did you blunt your talons for?” she asked, blue gaze gleaming.

Garrus choked. “Not…ahem…not pulling any punches with this interrogation, are we?”

Solana rolled her eyes. “Who, Garrus?”

“I’m not sure…I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

“Spill, or you aren’t getting those gloves.” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a sly smile.

Garrus sighed. He had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of sighing this visit. “All right, I’ll tell you. But! I need you to keep an open mind. And not tell anyone. Especially Dad…and definitely not Mom…”

“You’re stalling.”

“All right! Fine. I wasn’t…lying. I’m not dating anyone. Not really. It’s just this thing-”

“A booty call?”

“What?”

“It’s human slang, it means…casual sex, a hook up. Who are you hooking up with casually?”

“Spirits! I cannot believe we are discussing this…”

“Stalling,” she crooned.

“Shepard,” Garrus finally admitted in a whisper. He looked up, shocked at Solana’s silence. He had expected something; a laugh, a scream; but instead she…she looked like she was about to explode. Solana’s gaze was wide with shock, and Garrus heard a growl rumble from her subharmonics.

“Commander Shepard? First human Spectre, Shepard? The one who worked for Cerberus?!”

[organised-disaster]

Here you go @randosfandos and @baxieblur-turnip since you wanted it so much I'm ENSURING you see it the second you check your notifs

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER II

I shower, scrubbing my sweaty body. The breeze from the roof of the Justice Building air-dried me slightly, but it feels nice to finally be showering. My hair isn't especially dirty, and it's irritating trying to dry it, so I make a conscious effort to keep it away from the water. The soap smell is soothing. I can't quite place it.

I scrub my face. I get soap in my eyes. I no longer feel happy about the soap. I wash the soap off of me and out of my eyes as I think about today. It's the day of the Reaping, meaning I need to be prepared, just like every year, to potentially be sent to die.

Or watch someone I care about get sent to die... Yumi would tell me that she loves me in a situation like this. She did every year before she passed away.

Yumi. My older sister. Never did well as a Career. Yumi was gentle, empathetic. A bleeding heart, even. She couldn't bear to hurt anyone. If someone hit her, she'd ask them why instead of hitting back.

I step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my torso. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yumi and I didn't look similar to each other. Yumi's nose was softer and rounder, her eyes kinder. Yumi's hair was a dusty black, much lighter than my charred colour. Yumi was cheerful and radiated warmth and welcoming.

I can't stop seeing her instead of me when I look in a mirror, though. I knew Yumi's face as well as I know Sera's. I know that while her eyes were warmer, they were still as narrow and catlike as mine are. They still looked just as harsh in the wrong lighting.

I know that while Yumi's default expression was a soft smile, her anger still looked the same as mine. Anger was so rare, so jarring, that I couldn't help but memorise it.

I know that while I rarely smile at anyone but Sera, Yumi had dimples and creases identical to mine. I can't stand to smile at my reflection anymore. It's impossible not to see Yumi.

Sometimes I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in my smile as well. I wonder if she loves her exactly the same as I do. I wonder if she blames me exactly the same as I do.

I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in her own smile also. Yumi's narrow face didn't especially resemble Sera's, but Sera's eyes and Yumi's were similar browns, although Sera's eyes practically glow from the inside. Sera's smile has the same comforting quality as Yumi's.

Yumi was just as good with people as Sera, just as patient as Sera. Just as kind. Just as sweet. Just as trusting.

I wanted to be like her when I was younger. I know now that Yumi's thinking never did anything good for her. She needed to be vicious. Capable of taking a life. She wasn't, not when it mattered most.

I'll give her that. Yumi passed on her own terms. Yumi knew what she wanted. Yumi stuck with it. With her love for humanity. She's braver than me in that sense.

She was so much like Sera, it's almost like they're the same person. Perhaps that was the reason I got so close with Sera after Yumi died.

Or maybe the reason was because Sera loved Yumi, too, and felt her loss as much as I did.

There's a lump in my throat. My vision blurs slightly. I wipe my eyes, clearing my throat. I splash cold water on my face. Today, of all days, is a bad time to think of Yumi.

I violently scrub my face again, this time with my towel to dry it. I look up into the mirror by accident. My fringe is completely soaked. My eyes are reddened. There's a brief flash of Yumi's face across my vision, angry and full of hate.

It's gone as quick as it arrived. I hurriedly turn away from the mirror. I dry myself, keeping the mirror behind me the whole time.

After I'm no longer sticky, I pick up my clothes from the floor and start to get changed. A nice button-up and trousers. The shirt is grey, and the trousers are white, both slightly worn as they originally belonged to... I glance at the mirror again.

Yumi glares at me. She sniffs and wipes her nose as she finishes putting the clothes she wore on the day of the Reaping on. I leave the bathroom, and my sister, behind.

Sera is sitting on my bed, toying with her hands anxiously. Her eyes are trained on my clock, watching every second quietly thunk by. The sound of the clock is almost muffled by her uneven breathing and the occasional thump of her heel when her bouncing leg makes contact with the floor.

She smiles up at me when she notices me in the doorway, stopping her jittering. Her hands continue to shake slightly, as does her leg. Her eyes dart to what I'm wearing, then back up to my face again.

Her smile vanishes, if only for a moment. It's back so quickly, it's almost like she didn't react at all. She remembers, then. Well, how could she have forgotten?

Yumi was just as much Sera's sister as she was mine. If Sera wasn't at my house to talk to me, she was here to talk to Yumi. If Yumi was out, chances were that she'd be doing something with Sera.

Sera screamed louder than I did. Sera's grief was known. Sera gained sympathy.

Such an apathetic child...

No reaction whatsoever..?

Her sister...

How awful...

A monster, that's for sure...

I block out the whispers of District Four as I sit down next to Sera. As she always does when we are close like this, she leans into me. I put my arm around her and let her rest her head in the crook of my neck. She sighs deeply, her breathing calming down.

I know how deeply Sera craves the comfort of touch. I have always been averse. In general, if someone is making contact with my skin, it's because they're trying to hit me until I don't get back up.

But I also know how good it feels to be near to Sera. For our hands to be locked together, for our shoulders to be touching, for her breath to be on my neck.

Sera is gently gripping the hand attached to the arm I'm holding her with. She carefully traces lines along my palm with her thumbs, following the creases. Sera likes repetitive things like that.

There are a million things I could say to Sera. But just like every year, I don't need to say any of them. Now is not a time for words. Words come later. Words come after. And some words come never.

Words used to express relief. Words used to state gratitude. It's considered awful luck to say things like that. Especially when the people selected only have a one-in-twenty-four chance of coming home.

No matter what, there'll always be at least one grieving family. Sera's family has always been so lucky. Seth, Sera's brother, is only about a year older than I am. He's too old for the Reaping now. He's never been pulled.

Sera hasn't been pulled before, either. I hope she stays that way. I don't know what I'd do if she didn't. I've never thought about it, either. If I think about something like that, it starts getting hard to breathe.

I can't really think about it. My thoughts just won't go there, and if I force them to, they don't stay for long. I don't like it. I stay away from things like that. They belong at the very back of my mind with everything else.

I don't have to worry about that. Sera won't be pulled. I won't be pulled again. We're going to be okay.

Sera's switched from massaging my palm to fiddling with the hem of Yumi's shirt. She's started her gnawing of her lower lip, the already damaged skin bleeding slightly.

Her eyes flick to my clock again. I once again hear her breathing grow uneven as some degree of panic sets in. I squeeze her a little tighter, pull her a little closer.

Sera tears her eyes from the clock. Sera has a death grip on Yumi's shirt. I gently pry her fingers off, squeezing her hand when Yumi's shirt is free. Sera's tenderising of her lip ceases. Sera sighs and surrenders as we fall over together on my bed.

Sera adjusts herself to be resting her head on my chest, her feet hanging off the edge of my bed. Sera only ever wears one pair of shoes. A clunky pair of worn leather boots that fall off her feet at every possible occasion. They slide off, one actually hitting the floor while the other clings for dear life onto her ankle.

I hope my heartbeat doesn't speed up too much. It'll probably make Sera's head bounce if it does. I let my head fall back onto my pillow, my neck already hurting from my observation of Sera's boots.

Sera starts to toy with my hair, running it through her hands. She's always loved to compliment how shiny it is, how smooth I keep it. She always goes on to say how she wished she could have her hair as tidy and clean and nice-to-the-touch as mine.

I never said anything to her. Perhaps I should have. I would have liked to tell her that her tousled mess was charming. That it framed her face. That it brought out her smile.

I would not have liked to tell her that it made her look like Yumi, who wore her unkempt, unruly disaster in almost the exact same way. I don't think Sera remembers, but her hair was kept neat once, too.

Back when Yumi was still alive and Sera's mother was still around. Sera saw her family a lot more when she was younger, her brother not yet graduated, and her father not totally responsible for their income.

She had to brush her hair every couple of hours and apply some sort of gel to it, but it stayed in place. The kind of cutesy style that made little girls an object of affection for all the little boys.

She was maybe around seven when she properly met Yumi. She had come over to my house and accidentally walked into Yumi's room, briefly forgetting which was mine.

Yumi was fourteen at the time. She had been so sweet with Sera. By the time I realised that Sera had gotten lost somewhere, she was already playing some sort of complex game that involved knots with Yumi.

I tried to join. I wasn't good with knots then. I'm better now, but I still struggle with complicated ones. Sera has always been so talented with her hands. She's always had such nimble fingers.

I finally tied a knot. Yumi couldn't untie it. Neither of our parents could untie it. Sera couldn't untie it. That memory has resulted in this sweet mental image. Of Yumi sitting on the floor of her room, her little sisters next to her, puzzling over a knot tied by the least competent one.

That mutual lack of understanding for how I created such a thing was a building block for their relationship. I don't quite remember what became of the knot. I believe I gave it to Sera.

Sera has always admired Yumi. Sera saw the way Yumi wore her hair and decided it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. She mimicked Yumi in other, smaller ways that she still does to this day.

A little flick of the hand here, a tonal shift there. Sera saw how Yumi played with her hair when nervous and started doing it herself. She does it automatically now, pinching and rolling her blonde locks between her thumb and forefinger.

I absently run my hands through Sera's curls. My fingers snag on knots, and I hear Sera wince as I work them out. I groan.

"Sera, did you brush your hair this morning?"

Sera doesn't respond. She's pretending to be asleep. I know from experience that Sera takes at least ten minutes to fall asleep; it hasn't even been three. I sit up, Sera sliding down my chest, then sitting up as well.

Sera won't meet my eyes. I sigh and rub her face.

"You need to take care of yourself, Sera," I say, disappointed but not surprised. Sera tends to neglect things like this. Only small things, and she doesn't really resist, but she doesn't do them if she's not prompted.

Brushing her hair is a bad one. She almost never does it. I have to do it for her most of the time. Once, I didn't see her for four days because of an especially busy week for both of us.

It took me ten minutes to clean the accumulated grime off of her body and at least an hour to work the knots out of her hair. I scolded her the entire time for her forgetfulness. I wasn't surprised that her family didn't remind her, considering that her father and Seth were out fishing for a good three days. I assume Sera avoided them on day four.

"I know, Rumes. I'm sorry," she mumbles. "It's just... I didn't have the time this morning." Sera's excuse is flimsy. I stand up and walk over to my dresser, locating my hairbrush. I walk back over to my bed and sit down. Sera obediently turns to show me the back of her head.

I start to slowly run the brush through her tangled mop.

"I think we both know that isn't true, Sera." I'm not trying to be accusing. But I'm not trying to be nice.

Sera winces, both at the fact that I've caught her and because of the knot the brush has just caught on. It rips out a little of her hair as I work it through.

"I... It's..." Sera sighs. "It's a little hard, you get it?"

I don't. I really don't get it. Self-care has never given me any trouble, but I don't dare mention this to Sera. Telling Sera she's strange for not washing her face won't help her. Reminding her that she needs to do it will.

I've never been completely certain if her poor care of herself was because of her faulty memory or something else. I'd love to blame it on her memory, but Sera's general... erraticness is probably to blame.

She'll start tasks and forget about them entirely, she'll lose track of time, she'll forget to drink water... It's not really a surprise that she forgets important things anymore. She remembers to eat, at least. That removes some level of worry I have for her.

"Yes," I lie. This seems to reassure Sera. A part of her hair bounces back into shape as I finish pulling the brush through. I start again at my next chosen section, running my hands through what I've brushed. For a long time, there is no sound but our breathing and the soft, gentle noise of the brush through Sera's hair.

"You remembered to wash it. That's good," I say aloud, recalling its pleasant smell and softness when I hugged her earlier. I should have praised her then.

"Thank you," says Sera, a little uncertain. I regret speaking almost immediately.

Sera sighs and fidgets. Her other boot fell off at some point.

"You look like her, you know," she says quietly. I force the brush so hard through her hair it slightly yanks her head back. It was an accident. I hope.

"Sorry." There's a long silence.

"You really do, though. You look like Yumi," Sera finishes.

"Can we not talk about this, Sera?" I ask. Sera huffs.

"You can't just pretend she doesn't exist because she isn't around anymore," says Sera, more certain this time.

"I'm not," I respond levelly.

"Then w-w-why do you keep acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you never cared." I yank the brush suspended in Sera's hair.

"Hey, look at that. It's stuck," I say, letting go of it. It remains in Sera's hair. She reaches around to the back of her head and pulls it free, handing it back to me.

"Stop doing that, Rumi," she says, sounding like she's dealing with a small child.

"Doing what?" I ask, starting to brush Sera's hair again. Sera sighs.

"You know exactly w-w-what I'm talking about, Rumes. Don't change subjects to avoid things," she says. I don't avoid things. I'm not avoiding anything.

I voice this. Sera sighs again.

"You do, though, Rumes. You are. It's okay if you miss her. I do, too," says Sera. I finish brushing her hair and throw my hairbrush at my back wall. It thunks onto my dresser again.

"Can we just not, Sera?" Sera turns around to face me.

"I think w-w-we should, though," she says. I don't want to listen to her anymore. "I think w-w-we need to talk about her."

"We don't. There's nothing more we could say," I mutter.

"Rumi, you get so... distant. Around this time of year, you just avoid talking about her entirely."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to talk about a dead woman?" I snap.

"Yeah. Lots," Sera responds softly. "But you talk about her." I stiffen.

"You like to mention her from time to time, anyw-w-way," says Sera. "You joke about how Yumi w-w-would do this, Yumi w-w-would like that, blah blah blah."

I turn away from Sera, no longer enjoying this conversation.

"Rumes, you talk about her like she's just... aw-w-way," says Sera thoughtfully. "And I think that's good, I do, because -"

"Stop." Sera sighs softly.

"Rumes, can w-w-we just talk -"

"Stop."

"Rumi, it's not healthy to bottle these things up. If you don't w-w-want to talk now, that's fine, but -"

"I don't want to talk about it at all," I interject. "I don't need to, I don't want to, I won't. It's that simple." Sera needs to drop it. I'm fine. I'm acting normal. I always behave like this.

"She died for a good reason, okay? And I think w-w-we -"

"A good reason? You think it was good?" I interrupt. Sera looks startled.

"Rumes, that's not w-w-what I -"

"Oh? It's not w-w-w-w-what you m-m-m-eant?!" I shout, imitating her stammer.

"Rumi..." Sera's definitely upset. I've crossed a line. I don't care. Maybe she deserves it, just this once.

"Why don't we all just celebrate, huh?! 'Cause Yumi's dead! That's GREAT!"

"Rumi, just stop..." Sera mumbles.

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up! I can't hear you under all those extra letters!" I find the wound and tear it open.

"Rumi, w-w-w-why are you -"

"Oh, get to the point! How hard is it to talk?!" Sera flinches. She pinches the crooked part of her nose. She always does that when she gets self-conscious.

"Rumi, please just calm down," says Sera, voice gaining a pleading quality. I ignore this.

"Calm down?! You want me to calm down?!"

Sera's eyes start to water.

"Oh, don't you start crying AGAIN! You're so bloody emotional all the time!"

"You don't even have emotions!" she snaps back. Sera gets up off my bed.

"Maybe the reason you act like you don't care is because you really don't!" My sheets are pulled taught as I clench my hands. Sera angrily kicks her foot into one of her boots, looking for the other one. "Maybe you didn't cry at her funeral because you didn't love her!"

"Of course I loved her! She was my sister!" I shout, following Sera as I kick her boot from my bed into my wall. She snatches it off the floor and slams her foot into it.

"She w-w-was my sister, too!" Sera shoots back.

"No! No, she wasn't! Yumi was never your sister! No matter how close you think you were, you were never her sister!"

That's hurt her. She stops for a moment, tears threatening to start rolling down her cheeks.

"I loved her. Doesn't that mean something?" For just a moment, I feel a sliver of regret. It vanishes.

"Doesn't mean anything. You never meant anything to her," I snarl. This is untrue. Yumi did truly care about Sera. But now I just want to hurt her. Sera mumbles something.

"Huh? Speak up!" I demand. "You wanna say something? Say it to my face!"

"At least I'm not the reason she's dead," she says. There's utter silence.

"What?" Sera is completely crying now.

"At least," she repeats. "I'm not," she continues. "The reason she's dead."

"So you're saying it's my fault, then?"

Silence.

"N- no, I... No, I'm sorry. I got angry."

"No, I get it."

"Rumes, please, I didn't mean it. It w-w-wasn't your fault."

"It was, though. It's my fault. And it's always going to be my fault."

"It's not! I got angry! I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've never been that angry before. I'm sorry. If it's any-w-w-one's fault, it's mine. I could've -"

"Just stop, Sera."

"Rumes..."

"You can go now, Sera."

"But -"

"You can go now, Sera. Go home. Say hi to Seth for me."

Sera nods. She tries to hug me. I gently push her away.

"I'm sorry, Rumes."

"So am I." Sera opens the door.

Sera hesitates, standing in the doorway.

"Yumi w-w-would have said you look nice."

The door closes.

[naruto-imagine]

Idk how to put this and all butttt I'll try.. How would Hidan & Kakuzu react to their s/o (who's kinda chubby) being upset and down about their figure because somebody was nasty to them?

I'm on a roll. 3 posts in one night? *throws away my walking stick* LET'S GO.

Hidan

He would be pissed. And this is before he finds out it's because someone was nasty to you about your weight. When you make a comment about how gross you felt, Hidan would roll his eyes from where he was on the couch, his arms stretched out on the back of it. "For fucks sake. How many times have I gotta tell ya? You're fine." You stand there in the doorway, holding onto your arm and you look down to the ground in shame. Not from Hidan's words but from what that person said to you earlier. Their vile words echo in your head and you can't help but start to tear up. Hidan hears your tears patter on the wooden floor boards beneath your bare feet. His dusty pink eyes look over his shoulder at you. He softens. But only the tiniest bit. He sighs loudly, getting off the sofa to walk over to you. "Don't fucking cry about it... geez..." He says these words gentler. He swings his arm around your neck to bring you into his solid chest.

Through small sniffles, you admit to him what had happened. Now he's doubly pissed. "Why do you listen to them?!" He kissed his teeth with a loud smack. "Right." He releases you from his grip and walks towards his scythe. "Where'd you last see 'em?" Your eyes snap open and you run over to him, holding onto his wrist, begging for him not kill them. Because you sure as hell knew that was what he was going to do. He smirks at you teasingly. "Relax. I'm just gonna fuck 'em up a little." He whispers under his breath. "And then sacrifice them to Jashin."

Kakuzu

You told Kakuzu what had happened today. The comments someone had made. Kakuzu was never really one to take part in a conversation so most of the top it was like you were talking to a brick wall. Small talk was not his thing. He isn't one to cave in to emotions either. So knowing that Kakuzu wouldn't really say or do anything and rather than keeping your feelings bottled up, you told him / the wall how your day went... and that you were now feeling pretty shitty. You try to keep smiling but then you look in the mirror. You could see Kakuzu in the reflection sat at his desk, counting his money and you could see your figure. There was absolutely nothing wrong with how you looked but that person's words haunted you. Clung to you like a leech.

You lift a hand to cover your eyes, not wanting Kakuzu to see you cry. However he could not miss the jolting motion of your shoulders as you tried to hold back the hurt. A large hand grabs a hold of your waist, pulling you towards the bed. Kakuzu had gotten up from his desk in such swiftness that you were already in his lap before you realised what had happened. He sat on the edge of the bed with your legs either side of him, his massive hands holding tightly onto your hips which made you wince in pain.

"I thought you better than that." His right hand sunk deeper into the plumpness of your hip, making your breath hitch in your throat. "Listening to mere words." You felt ashamed. He was right. Why did you listen? But it's so hard when you don't have the strength to fight back. Your thoughts were interrupted by Kakuzu's nose making contact with your chest. You could feel his hot breath through his mask which made you quiver in delight, butterflies fluttering within the pit of your stomach. His eyes were closed, listening to the little sounds you made from his touches. "We're all made of flesh and bone." He lifted his head, his bright jade eyes looking into yours. He was frowning, like always, but this time he held a look of desire. "I have no care for such things."

Screaming. I love Kakuzu. Come to me DADDY. 😝

[certifiedwerewolf]

I never posted the chapter where I introduced Lucy in TGOJW so here's the scene where she was introduced. She's so fun. I love her.

It had, of course, been just a regular ass cabin, a little dusty from unuse but otherwise normal as hell.

It’s not normal as hell now. There are sigils on the wall, recognizable warding, and a summoning circle on the floor. Half guttered out candles sit around it. And in the middle of the circle, a tween girl lies unconscious.

Dean is at her side in an instant, patting her cheek and sighing in relief when she opens her eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? What happened?”

“What do you want?” she demands.

“You’re unconscious in a summoning circle,” Dean points out. “I was trying to help you.”

“I wasn’t unconscious. I was communing.”

“With…?”

“Ugh.” She stands up, and begins clearing away the candles. Now that he’s not panicked, Dean can see that there’s no actual summoning ingredients. Okay, well, maybe she’s just got hold of some partial accounts and tried them out. Still, the symbols are a little too good, they should probably find out where she got them and, ideally, burn it.

Unless it’s a website. Can’t burn those. Maybe they can get Charlie to, though.

“So,” the girl says once she has all of her candles tucked into her hands. She looks up at them with a demented smile, the kind that a kid wearing black lipstick and black combat boots and a spiked collar with her camp shirt and khaki shorts might practice in the mirror. “What do you know about Satan?”

“Satan,” Dean says. “Satan. Like from the Bible?”

She nods. Dean looks helplessly to his brothers. They know lots about Satan.

“I know he’s the world’s worst roommate,” Sam says drily. Dean snorts.

“And he has daddy issues coming out of, like, every orifice.”

“He is an entire mountain of dicks,” Adam deadpans.

They all look over to John. He raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me, I never met the guy.”

The girl stares up at them. “Who are you guys?”

“Ghost hunters,” Dean says. Beside him, Sam holds up one of the cameras they’ve brought along for verisimilitude. “We were told this cabin was unoccupied.”

“It is. That’s why I’m here. It’s a nice quiet place where no one will bother me while I commune with the forces of darkness.”

“The forces of darkness.”

“Yeah.”

“And those forces would be…?”

“Oh. You know. Hell.”

“Can you be more specific?” Sam asks. “Like a specific force from hell?” He glances at Dean. “Can you give us a name?”

She squints up at him, a squint that bizarrely reminds Dean of Crowley, and says, slowly, “No, no names. Just… general forces. Demons. Devils. Souls of the damned. That sort of thing.”

As one, all four men let out a collective breath. It sounds like this girl isn’t in contact with anyone from Hell after all, just in possession of a partial summoning spell.

“So where’d you learn to do that?” Dean asks, squatting down to get a better look at her summoning circle. “The communing, I mean.”

“Read it in a book.”

“Your parents know you’re reading books on communing with Hell?”

“My parents are dead,” she sniffs haughtily, in a tone that says yeah, dead parents, you feel bad yet? He only just doesn’t roll his eyes.

“Well, you shouldn’t mess around with stuff like that,” Dean tells her. “You could piss off the wrong people. And trust me, the Queen of Hell is a personal friend of mine, and you do not want to get on her bad side.”

Being twelve, she doesn’t feel the need to resist rolling her eyes.

“The Queen of Hell is a personal friend of yours? Yeah, right.”

“She is!” Dean grins. He loves these kinds of conversations, where the things he’s saying are taken for bullshit. “And her son is my roommate!”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying,” she says. She squints at him again. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“I would never!”

She doesn’t look like she particularly believes him, so he makes a heart-crossing motion. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

She squints at him. “Lucy,” she says slowly.

“Lucy.”

“Fiero.”

“Lucy Fiero,” he repeats. “Well, okay, Lucy. What can you tell me about Cabin #13?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Floating Through Space - Harry Styles

a/n: im literally bursting from excitement over this, i’ve been working on this fic for so long and im pretty satisfied with how it turned out so i hope you’ll like it too! pleas please PLEASE don’t let this flop bc it means a lot to me 🥺 the song featured in the fic is obviously an existing one, i linked it into the right place so you can listen to it and get the vibe of it, that song is what inspired the whole story so i recommend giving it a listen! leave your thoughts and reactions, i can’t wait to read what you thought about the fic!!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

warning: drug use, smut and everything thats wrong with patriarchy lmao

word count: 25.7k

masterlist

This dressing room is no different than the other one thousand you’ve been to. The plaster on the wall is all cracked up, the red bricks peeking from under it in the corner, the dusty couch looks like it’s been through hell and just sitting on it would probably give you STDs. The mirror on the wall is cracked, the few water bottles you’ve gotten are not even cooled, they’re a warm room temperature. The glorious life of a musician, right?

Moments like this you question why you didn’t just choose to be the obedient daughter and became a surgeon like your parents always wanted you to be. You’d have a steady future and a nice income, a decent career instead of having to perform at a different bar every other night for nicks and pennies that barely cover your rent at the end of the month. But that wouldn’t be you. Wearing scrubs, smiling at patients, throwing out your dignity along with your dreams, you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you chose that life. Besides, you’d still be in school, barely nearing the halfpoint of your education if you decided to go along with your parents’ plan and it’s clearer than daylight that the school system is just not for you. It would be pure torture if you had to sit in classes for a decade just to work a job you never even wanted.

Looking around the small dressing room you cast your eyes over your band that consists of three people. It’s a temporary set up from three guys you met along your way, all of the struggling musicians as you and you saw the as opportunities. Places would rather have a band play with several men in it than just put one single woman on stage and pray for the best. It’s the sexist part of the industry not enough people talk about. You can’t even count how many pitying stares you’ve gotten through the years when you stated that you want to make a career as a solo female singer.

“Honey, you ain’t making it without at least one man behind you,” is what they’ve always told you. So you’ve gotten yourself three until you could stand on your own two feet without a male backup. You’re using them just as much as they are using you. They were already a band when you joined them, the lead singer just disappeared to thin air with her boyfriend and left them incomplete, so you joined forces to navigate your way together in the depth of the music industry, looking for that big jump everyone is dreaming about.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror you fix your eyeliner, checking yourself once again. Your thrifted checkered suit looks radiant on you especially with the neon green see-through top underneath, showing off a black bralette. It’s a male suit, hanging a little baggy on you at places, but you still feel like you’re pulling off the look. Your thick eyeliner makes your eyes appear even bigger than they already are and your hair is in an unruly mop of curls, making your appearance complete.

You’ve received tons of critiques over your outfits, but they are the only thing you are not changing on yourself.

“Don’t wear men’s pants.”

“You’d look better in a dress.”

“Why do you look like a guy?”

“What a shame to hide such a gorgeous body in clothes that weren’t meant for girls.”

Each and every comment is burned into your mind forever and you’ll never stop fighting against the judgment women has to face for not being the conventional beauty all females are expected to be.

There’s a knock on the door and the person behind it barges in without waiting for an answer. The tall, bald guy rushes in, looking a little stressed, but that’s kind of the normal for the owner.

“I’m not sure how to say it, but… you are not performing tonight,” he simply states and your anger sets in faster than ever. You’ve had gigs get cancelled, but not minutes before going on stage. However, he is still not done with his little informative speech. “And your instruments need to be used by another band tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Trey, the drummer jumps to his feet. “No way I’m letting someone else play my drum set!”

“You’ll get half the money if you let it happen,” the owner answers.

“Wait, what band did you find minutes before start?” you ask in complete shock.

“There’s this group celebrating a birthday in the VIP section and some boy band is apparently with them. Birthday girl requested to have the stage for them.”

“And you’re just cancelling on us that easily?” you snap.

“Not that I have a choice. If I don’t do it they are leaving and I’m losing a big amount from the night. Sorry guys, but this is strictly business.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you laugh bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. This would have been a great chance for all of you, you’ve been trying to get a gig here for months, knowing that a lot of people from the industry fancies it, you might have caught someone’s eyes, but it’s definitely not happening now.

“Are you letting them use your stuff or not?” he urges, hands on his hips as he looks at the four of you impatiently.

“But what about our gig? We’ve been on the waiting list for months, when can we actually perform?”

“Uh, I don’t know. We’re pretty booked, maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Summer?” you gasp in disbelief. “It’s fucking February!”

“Are you lending them your stuff or not? I don’t have the time for your little tantrum!”

“Yeah, if we get the money they can use it,” Connor, the bass guitarist answers before you explode right then and there. The owner walks out with that, leaving the four of you behind, forgotten and humiliated.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Trey groans, plopping down on the couch, covering his eyes with his tattooed arm.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you scoff under your breath, reaching for your bag to grab your pack of cigarettes you keep in it especially for cases like this, whenever you are about to go around and punch every living thing in the face in your reach.

Kicking the backdoor open you lean against the cold brick wall as you light the cigarette and start puffing vigorously, trying to get as much nicotine into your system as possible. You notice a group of guys standing near you in the alleyway, laughing on something, having a great time, oblivious to how hurt and angry you are feeling just a few feet away. You hear frictions of their conversation and it’s clear they are British judging from the accents that are hitting your ears. You finish your cigarette pretty fast and immediately reach for another one even though you know you shouldn’t have even smoked that first one, but you just can’t help it. It’s either the smoking or you’re going after the owner and kick him in the balls for being a bitch.

“Oi, can I ask for one?”

Glancing to the side you see that one of the guys has approached you, smiling at you warmly he nods towards the pack in your hands. Nodding you hold it out for him and he takes one. Before he could even ask for the lighter, you throw it at him and he catches it easily.

“Thanks,” he nods, holding the cigarette between his lips before lighting it and passing the lighter back to you.

“Lou, you really shouldn’t smoke,” you hear one of the others speak up as the rest of the group slowly joins you and the one you just helped out.

“S’fine, don’t act like me motha’,” he shrugs, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“At least not before we go on stage,” the blonde one shakes his head at his friend and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, so you’re the band that’s gonna play?” you ask with a forced smile, already feeling your blood boiling. Who the fuck they are and why do they deserve to steal your gig?!

“We’re just playing a couple of songs,” another speaks up shrugging his shoulders. “No big deal.”

“Glad it’s no big deal to you, because it would have been to the band that was robbed from tonight because of you,” you spat at them, clearly surprising them with your harsh reply.

“I assume you are part of that band, right?” the on with the curly hair speaks up, his green eyes burning down at you.

“Nice job, Sherlock,” you groan, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“You could play with us,” he offers, the others nodding in agreement.

“I don’t need your pity,” you scowl at them. “Bringing me on stage to try to make yourselves look like the good guys is not necessary. I’m just fed up with people like you.” The truth is coming out of you easier than ever. All the years on injustice is seemingly erupting from you, pouring down on these five.

“People like us?” the dark haired one asks with a confused look.

“Yeah,” you nod with a bitter chuckle. “Five conventionally hot guys grouped together for a band, making every girl between the age of ten and thirty scream just by a wink. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m betting my head that you’ve had it easier than others.”

“It’s not nice to assume things when you don’t know anything about us,” Curly speaks up, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I’ve seen enough not to care about what’s nice and what’s not,” you chuckle shaking your head as you take another long puff from your cigarette and throw the butt to the ground, stepping on it. “Who are you even? Some Back Street Boys 2.0?” you ask, folding your arms on your chest, earning a heartfelt laugh from the blondie.

“I kinda like her,” he smirks around his friends. “We’re called One Direction, you haven’t heard of us?”

“Not even once,” you shake your head.

“That’s kinda humbling,” the one with the cigarette smiles. “We’re from the UK. I’m Louis, that’s Liam, Niall, Zayn and Harry.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you guys didn’t just take my gig and lessen me with half my paycheck,” you smile at them sweetly before rolling your eyes.

“Wait, what? They’re not paying you because of us?” Liam asks.

“We only get half the money for lending you our instruments.”

“Let us pay the other half then,” Harry offers right away, but you just laugh at him.

“It’s not about the money, Prince Harry,” you smirk at him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s about justice. How is that air that you just waltz in here and take our time and chance? What if there’s a producer out there who would have liked our music and offered a record deal? What if someone would have taken a video of us performing, put it up to YouTube and it would have gone viral? I assume you never had to go through this phase where you have to beg for every minute on stage so you can at least earn enough money to pay rent. You don’t seem like the type of band who had to perform in smelly bars four times a week for a ridiculous amount of money.”

They stay silent and you know you were right.

“I’m not saying you had it easy, but I’m sure you have no idea what it could have been. And I’m fed up with men walking over others just to have what they want.”

“Look, it wasn’t our intention to ruin your gig. Have your set with your band and then we’ll play a few songs too after that,” Liam offers, but you shake your head.

“No, we weren’t supposed to be just your opening act and it’ll turn into that. So have a nice evening, enjoy your showtime, I’m out.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall you walk back into the building and grabbing your stuff from the dressing room you move out to the bar area, desperately needing a drink.

Sitting on the last stool at the bar you ask for straight tequila and two vodka shots knowing it’ll do the job for the evening and pulling your phone out of your bag, you open up Google. Searching the name One Direction you’re met with quite a few hits and you start scrolling through them, reading about the five boys you just had an encounter with. Just as you thought, they didn’t start off as a traditional band, having put together at a talent show just three years ago, getting such a major push so early in their career, they have no idea how struggling it is to make it in the industry. They surely had their fair share of ups and downs, but they will never know what it’s like to sweat blood and tears for your dream when everyone just wants to drag you down and tell you you’ll never make it.

The shots and half of the tequila is gone, your band joined you to at least get wasted as you watch the technicians set the stage for a band that’s not you, but gonna play with your stuff. Sitting on the stool you’re having a fairly good time thanks to the alcohol when you spot Harry making his way towards you in the crowd.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready backstage?” you ask with an eyeroll as he joins your little circle, the guys eyeing him curiously. Ignoring your comment he pulls out a piece of paper handing it to you. As you unfold it you almost want to throw it back at him.

“This is to make up for what you lost tonight,” he says nodding down at the check in your hands.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” you firmly answer, but Trey grabs the check from your hands.

“But I do!” he snorts. He is such a pig.

“Let us do at least this one thing for you. We really do feel bad for taking your time and the offer to come on stage with us still stands.”

“No thank you,” you shoot him a fake smile before downing the rest of your tequila, the drink burning down your throat. Looking back at Harry you keep your eye locked on him as he watches you intently. He is a good-looking guy, you have to give that to him, but the circumstances you’ve met under just made it impossible for you not to hate him for the privileges he is being handed every day while you fight your way through life.

Harry sighs in defeat nodding as he licks his lips. For a split second, guilt takes over you for the way you’ve been acting towards him and the other boys, but then you remember that you don’t even know him. For all you know, he can be a royal asshole with the face of an angel. You can’t let guilt chew you and spit you out, you have to keep your guards up.

“Alright. We really are sorry. I’ll… see you around,” he nods before turning around to walk away.

You watch them perform their biggest hits, the whole place going crazy over the impromptu One Direction concert they just got for basically free. The VIP area is going crazy over the boys and with each sang song, you feel yourself getting more and more hopeless about your future as a musician. Here you are on a Saturday night, robbed from a job you’ve worked hard for, watching five British boys take your place on the stage that’s supposed to be yours tonight. You catch Harry’s eyes quite often while he is on stage, he keeps glancing in your way, a hint of guilt glistening in his green irises as he sings their songs with perfect vocals. You can tell he feels bad for the situation and you didn’t make it any easier on him or any of the boys, but you’re not really one to beat around the bush. They deserved to know what others in the industry below them have to deal with every day. It’s not always as glamorous as people might think and you’re the living example of that.

You don’t stick around for long after the boys are done on stage, you help your bandmates pack their stuff and head home before Harry or any other members of One Direction can find you.

Walking past the news stand that’s on the corner of your street, you stop upon seeing your own face smiling back at you from the cover of People Magazine, the title catching your attention.

“Grammy nominee Y/N Y/L/N shares her secret to her one of a kind fashion style.”

Grabbing the magazine off the stand you pay for it and continue your way home, holding the copy to your chest with a warm feeling in your heart.

It’s been only a week since the nominations have come out, but it still feels like a dream. You didn’t just get nominated in the category of Best New Artist, but your album Hands of Power got nominated as Best Album and your biggest hit of last year, Sleepless is running for the title of Best song. Three nominations the first time earning a spot on the list. Not bad.

Just as you walk into your place, your phone buzzes, the ever so smiling face of your manager staring back at you from the screen.

“Hey!” you sing into the phone, holding it to your ear with your shoulder, taking off your boots as you walk further down the hallway.

“Are you home already?”

“Yes, just arrived.”

“Great, I’ll be there in ten,” she announces and ends the call. Chuckling you just shake your head, dropping the phone to the coffee table before you move to the bedroom and change into something more comfortable. The flared jeans looked fire on you today, but you rather wear something looser when you’re at home.

You barely have the time to start the water for a tea when Taylor storms through your door using her keys you’ve given her some time ago. She is wearing all white that looks fantastic with her almond skin tone, a knitted sweater tucked into a maxi skirt, paired with strappy heels, she is always so elegant and perfectly dressed for whatever occasion.

“I have knee-shaking news, girl!” she announces as she throws her purse to the couch before joining you in the kitchen.

“I’m going to be the next Bond girl?” you joke smiling to yourself as you get two mugs from the cupboard.

“Better than that!” she cheers. “You are going to perform at the Grammy’s, baby!” she screams throwing her hands into the air as your jaw drops to the floor.

“You’re not just kidding with me, right?!”

“I would never play such a dirty joke with you. It’s one hundred percent true, I had an hour long phone call with some bloke today and they want you.”

“Yes!” you scream in excitement, jumping up and down like a child that just got a pack of candy. “I’ll make the Grammy’s my bitch!” you cheer, making Taylor laugh.

“Alright, Miss Dominatrix. We still have a lot of things to discuss and there’s one more thing about the performance.”

“Oh God, is this the part where you say something that ruins it completely?” you sigh in defeat as you take the kettle and pour the water into the mugs, dropping a filter into each.

“I don’t think it ruins it,” she shakes her head, but you have a feeling you won’t like what she has to say. “They want it to be like a… joined performance. You’d start off with Sleepless, then it would kind of mesh into your partner’s song and they would end it with one of their own songs.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad,” you nod.

“See?” she smiles warmly.

“Do we know who I’m going to perform with?”

“Harry Styles.”

You almost drop both mugs the moment the name is mentioned, but you manage to get them to the kitchen island and slip them to the counter, Taylor giving you a questioning look at your wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s… gonna work,” you clear your throat.

“You’re not sure your duet with the biggest male artist can work? Why is that?”

Licking your lips you try to find the right words to say it, but you’re not even sure why you got so shocked over it. Probably because the last time you saw him, you were still nobody, playing gigs at no name bars and he took your spot on the stage with One Direction. It’s weird, but since you’ve finally made it in the industry, you haven’t crossed paths with him and this would be the first time you meet after seven years.

“I’m not sure if he remembers it, but we’ve met before.”

“You and Harry?”

“Yes. I was playing with The Gambits years ago, it was before I started putting out covers on my own. We were supposed to play at this bar but they cancelled on us, because One Direction was there that night and someone wanted them to play instead of us, so we lost the gig. I had a pretty… harsh conversation with him and the band, basically telling them that their pretty man privilege is what ruins the careers of talented women.” “Oh Jesus, Y/N. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Taylor sighs leaning on her elbows on the countertop.

“Not that it’s something that would just come up in a conversation,” you shrug. “And as I said, he might not even remember it. It was a long time ago.”

“I know you are all about your rebellious past, good for you, but sometimes you’re making my job really fucking hard,” she sighs, grabbing her phone, already typing a message to God knows who. “Starting beef with Harry Styles before you even made a name for yourself? Who does that?”

“It’s not beef!” you protest. “I just gave them my piece of mind.”

“We’ll see what he thinks about it. I have to make a few calls,” she announces before walking out, already on the phone with someone.

Sitting on a stool, staring into your mug you think back at the time you met him. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were fighting to stay afloat, trying to make through the days, barely hanging on a thread. You didn’t know that five years later you’d sign your first record deal as a solo artist and seven years from that night, you’d be a Grammy nominee. It was a long and challenging time for sure with way more downs than ups until you finally got on track and you’ll never forget where you came from. Not when even as an acknowledged artist, you still face judgment and hatred no matter what you do. Being a solo female singer sometimes feels like harder than being president of the country and there are just so many things that need to change in the world of music, you will never stop fighting for girls that are in the same shoe you once were.

Through the years you’ve followed the career of the boys, especially Harry’s. You read about Zayn’s parting, their so-called hiatus and how they all went solo soon after. Genre-wise Harry’s work is what stands the closest to you, and you’ve witnessed all the backlash he has faced during his time in the spotlight. The shaming for whatever women he chose to date, his choice to get into acting and the way he has been dressing. People just don’t seem to understand they can’t have control over any of these and they’ve tried to bring him down one too many times, but he has been thriving lately, anyone can see that.

Your mug empties out by the time Taylor returns, taking her previous stop at the kitchen island.

“Alright, I set up a meeting with Harry and his manager for tomorrow. They still haven’t decided on the performance and apparently, Harry would like to meet you before giving his answer.”

“Oh God, he remembers me,” you growl under your breath.

“Or maybe he doesn’t and just wants to meet the person he is supposed to perform with. We can never know. We’re meeting them at his manager’s office at eleven tomorrow.”

One night is enough to make you go crazy over such a small thing as meeting someone. It’s not like you are nervous to see him because of who he is, it’s more about knowing what he thinks about you after all these years, in case he remembers you. He saw you as a struggling artist at rock bottom and though your encounter didn’t last long and he didn’t know you on a deeper, personal level, you still fear that he remembers and thinks that you’ve lost yourself over the years.

Authenticity has been a huge issue in your life. Early in your career, everyone wanted to change you. The way you dress, your hair, the style of music you write, nothing was good enough as it was, they wanted you to become someone else, someone who was not you. You fought all attempts until the right person came through and accepted you as yourself, but a tiny voice in the back of your mind kept telling you that they succeeded, that somewhere along the fight you did lose yourself and became what you always feared to be.

Meeting Harry is like meeting a piece of your past and having to face what you’ve become. It’s going to be like a mirror right in front of you and what you’ll see might not be what you expect.

Wearing your bright red dungaree with an oversized vintage shirt and a pair of white sneakers, you definitely don’t look like you’re dressed for a business meeting, but when did you ever? Pushing your hair back with a pair of cat eye shades, you leave a little earlier, knowing well traffic is horrible in these hours. You arrive to the office building just minutes before eleven, Taylor has already texted that she has arrived and which office you should come to. When you finally find the door you’ve been looking for, you take a moment to yourself before knocking.

“Come in!” a male voice calls out and you walk in. Taylor is sitting on the sofa that’s pushed against the wall on the left, a man is sitting behind the enormous desk and then there is Harry, standing by the window, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black slacks, and old Rolling Stones t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame as his eyes meet yours upon your arrival.

“Hey, I would say I’m sorry for being late, but I’m actually exactly on time,” you smirk, closing the door behind you. The man stands from the desk and walking around he meets at the front, holding a hand out for you.

“Perfectly on time,” he smiles warmly. “I’m Jeffrey Azoff, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”

“And this here is Harry,” he motions towards the man who has stepped closer and as you look back at him, you’re met with a blank expression for a moment so you can’t figure out if he remembers you or not. But then, a tiny smile tugs on his lips as he holds his hand out for you.

“We’ve met before, right?” he simply questions, and your eyes flicker over to Taylor in a kind of “See? I told you!” manner before you look back at Harry and shake his hand.

“Yeah, we have,” you nod. “A long time ago.”

“Congrats for your nominations,” he smirks, his hand letting go of yours and your let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, thank you. Back at you.”

“Alright, why don’t we start this discussion? We have a lot to go over,” Jeff suggests and you sit beside Taylor while Harry stays near the window, as if he is trying to soak up the sunshine coming through it that’s painting his skin a golden shade.

The concept is simple. The performance would be a mashup from Sleepless and Harry’s song Golden with an exciting and fresh way of mixing the two songs together in the middle, making your song flow into his in a smooth and effortless way. The songs sound compatible and you already have an idea how to mash them together for the transition, but you can’t help but feel doubts over the performance.

“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.

“Not to come off too harsh, but why is my song the first one?” you ask, earning a few puzzled looks. “If Harry finishes it off, he is going to be the one people will remember more and he’ll get the applause as well. The riffs in the songs allow them to be switched, how come it’s not me who comes second?”

You can see the shock on Jeffrey’s face at how straight-forward you were about your concern and that you even dared to speak up about the issue. He clearly hasn’t had to face anything similar before and when he glances at Harry you follow his gaze as well, but instead of shock, what you see on his face is amusement. He is smirking, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares back at you.

“She has a point,” he nods and you take a deep breath. For a moment, you really thought this is going to be the part where you are thrown off and Harry makes the performance only his.

“I, uhh—this is what’s been requested,” Jeff answers and you tilt your head.

“Okay, can we make a request to change it?” you simply ask, eyeing Taylor next to you who is typing on her iPad vigorously, taking notes of everything that’s said. She is already used to what you’re like, she is not even surprised you came up with the prompt to change.

“Hold on, so just because you want to be second, you get to be?” Harry questions, but he doesn’t come off as harsh, it seems like he is entertained by the conversation. “Does this mean I don’t deserve to be the second one?”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” you answer, taken aback from his accusation and you hate to admit, but he is right. You addressed the issue, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spot either.

“Alright, so then we need to seek a solution that benefits the both of us,” he offers, walking closer from the sunlight and you follow his every movement.

“We could do some kind of medley? Do an ultimate mashup from more songs and have more smaller parts split between us, finishing it together,” you suggest and he nods.

“That could work, but I have something else on my mind.”

“And what would that be?” Jeff asks, a little lost about the situation as he watches the two of you exchange ideas.

“We could write a song together, a duet, and perform that instead of our solo stuff.”

“What?” you snap right away. “You want to write a whole new song just for the Grammy’s?”

“Why not?” he smiles carefreely. “We have almost two entire months to do it, albums have been written in shorter periods, I’m sure we can handle just one song. And I think a collaboration would be a hit for the both of us now.”

You look at Taylor who just stares back at you, ignoring the panic in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she tells you. “I can see the collaboration working, it could be a huge hit.”

“And what, we’re gonna release it as a single after the show? Whose song is it going to be? I don’t have an album coming up until next year, do you get to have it on your third one then?”

“We can put it out as just a single. No one has to have it on any albums,” Harry replies. “If we released it after the show, it would be just the right timing. Neither of us had any new songs out in a while.” Clenching your jaw you’re trying to find a way out of this collaboration, though you’re not even sure yourself why. Taylor sees right through you, knowing well you’re planning your escape, but she has other plans apparently.

“Y/N, let’s have a few words outside,” she pushes herself up and pulls you with her. Once the door is shut behind the two of you she starts right away. “What the fuck is your problem? The song is a huge thing, it would be an instant hit with him on it!”

“Why do I need a song with him to stay relevant?” you question, folding your arms on your chest.

“No one said it’s about that. But we both know it would be a great push to your name that Jordan has stomped over not so long ago, calling you a Feminist Nazi.”

“Don’t even fucking mention him!” you whisper yell, refusing to even think about that trashbag of a man that ruined your life with his fake accusations.

“Look, I know what you are thinking, that you’ll be seen as just an object next to him, a pair of boobs and nice legs, but that’s not his brand. He doesn’t need you to be sexy next to him, he is known for his honest and real works that go farther than just twerking and being a hoe. We both know he produces meaningful music, so why are you so against it?”

“I just… I-I’m scared to work with him,” you finally admit and it’s the first thing today that surprises Taylor.

“Scared? Thought you’re not scared of anything,” she huffs.

“I never said that,” you give her a look. “Harry met me when I was nobody, it was just me and my big mouth, trying to find my breakout. What if we start working together and he sees that I completely lost that version of myself? I would feel like a liar, an impostor.”

“You are overreacting,” Taylor sighs. “You’ve changed on your way here, but I doubt you are that far from the girl he met before. I know we didn’t meet just a few years after, but I can assure you, you’re still that big-mouthed pain in the ass who fights every norm in the industry like no one else.”

You know she is right, she is always right. Taylor knows you too well, that’s why you love working with her, but sometimes, her honesty throws you way off, especially when she is stating the truth.

The two of you rejoin the two men in the office and they both look at you with anticipation as you fold your arms on your chest and move your gaze over to Harry.

“I would… love to work on a song with you.”

When you agreed to work with Harry you didn’t think you’d find yourself heading over to his house a few days later to have a writing session, but he offered right away that day in the office and Taylor accepted it before you could protest. You’ve had a day filled with meetings and fittings and now you’re rolling up his driveway after punching the security code in that he shared with you over text.

You’ve exchanged numbers on the spot and just like that, you’ve become one of the few people on this world that could contact Harry Styles anytime they want to.

You chose to be casual for the occasion, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie, you like to be comfortable whenever you’re working on new music and Harry’s presence won’t change your ways about that. You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest you’re still afraid of being alone with Harry and do such an emotional thing together as writing a song.

The front door opens just as you get out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Harry walks out wearing a pair of shorts and a green hoodie, looking like he hasn’t left the house all day.

“Hey, you found the address easily?” he asks smiling as you walk up to him.

“Yeah, everything went fine.”

“Do you want something to drink or eat maybe?” he offers as the two of you walk inside. If you’re being honest, you’re starving, the last time you had anything to eat was between two meetings around ten, but nothing since then, just a granola bar. But you’re a first time guest, you can’t just eat up his fridge, like you’re old pals, right?

However, Harry can see right through you.

“You haven’t had anything in a long time, right?” he softly asks and you purse your lips, feeling awkward already and you haven’t been here for more than two minutes. “I can make you a sandwich, if you’d like.” “Harry, no need, I—“ “No need, but I want to. Come on,” he nods at you, making you follow him into the kitchen. “So, who would have thought we would be here now, huh?” he smirks at you as he gathers the ingredients and starts working on your food while you sit on one of the stools at his kitchen island.

“Not me,” you admit chuckling. “I kind of didn’t think I would see you again, I mean, personally. I was seeing you a lot on TV after that.”

“Now might be a good time to confess that, that night wasn’t the last time I saw you.”

“What?”

“I went to one of your gigs a few weeks later. Stayed at the back, I just really wanted to see you play.”

“And what did you think?” you ask tilting your head to the side. Harry smirks, his eyes meeting yours before they return to the food under his hands.

“You absolutely smashed it. And I felt even worse for taking your time away that night. The people were robbed from a mind-blowing performance and had to see five annoying guys clown on the stage,” he laughs making you chuckle too. “I wasn’t surprised when your name surfaced a few years later. Knew you’d make it at one point.” He joins you at the island and slides the plate in front of you with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” you mumble smiling shyly before you start eating and only after the first bite you feel just how hungry you’ve been. “Now that we are at it, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you guys back then. I feel like I was a bigger asshole than I should have been and the whole situation wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“No need to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You were absolutely right. We had no business being on stage that night and what you said actually made us think about where we came from and appreciate our career more. You were right about having it easy at the beginning. We never had the phase where we had to push our way to the top like other artists, our first days were broadcasted on TV, giving us the biggest push ever.”

It’s good to hear he is not holding grudges against you for whatever went down in the past. You eat in silence while Harry types a response to a message on his phone before turning it with the screen down to pay his full attention to you.

“I actually just messaged Niall that we are working together and he is losing his shit over it,” he chuckles softly.

“You guys still talk?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Not all of us thought,” he adds, pressing his lips together.

“You miss being with the band?”

“It’s… good to rely on someone in certain situations. As a solo artist, you only have yourself and that’s about it. But I think you already know that.”

“I never really liked being in a band,” you admit.

“How come? I think you fit in well with The Gambits.”

You shrug, chewing on your bite slowly. It’s probably not the best time to admit that you prefer working on your own, when you’re about to get into a duet with him.

“I uhh… I always imagined myself being a solo artist and I just couldn’t stay with the guys too long, especially when I got my record deal.”

“Why?” Letting out a long breath you lick your lips looking at him.

“I would have never made it in a band with three guys. It would have always been about which one I’m sleeping with, who am I having an affair with or if I’m lesbian because I’m not hooking up with any of them. This is just how it goes for women.”

Harry stays quiet, taking your words in as you finish the sandwich that was literally lifesaving. You wash the plate even when he tells you to just leave it in the sink, and once that’s done, the two of you move over to his little home studio in the basement of his house.

“So, where do we start?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in one of the armchairs while he grabs an acoustic guitar and sits on the one next to you.

“How do you usually start writing?” he asks scratching his chin before he rests his hands on the body of the guitar.

“Well, most of the times I write when I’m pissed about something,” you huff and Harry smirks at you.

“Nothing pissed you off lately?”

“Not enough to make me write a song,” you point out. “See, this is one of the reasons why I was hesitant to write a song with you. It doesn’t come that easily for me.”

“And what were the other reasons?” You shut your mouth at his question, you weren’t expecting him to pick it up, but apparently, he listens more than you thought.

“It’s… a long story.”

“And we have all the time,” he smiles slyly. “But of course, don’t feel pressured to share. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other more so we can work together easier.”

Harry starts strumming his guitar gently, playing random riffs as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip. Taylor asked you to try and be more open than you usually are and though part of you wants to keep the wall high between you and him, something is telling you to try and reach out to him.

“I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face next to you. In duets between a man and a woman, females are often seen as just an object, a sight for the eyes but not as serious artists. I worked hard to be taken seriously and I was hesitant about collaborating with you even though your music is not necessarily what I should fear.”

Harry looks back at you with an unreadable expression and you feel like he is judging you for standing up for yourself. Your fight for yourself is often mistaken as “being a bitch” or “being too sensitive” and the amount of times you’ve been told to just chill is upsetting.

“Well, good thing then that I won’t write music about twerking,” he then finally speaks up, a smile breaking his blank expression.

“But you do write a lot about sex,” you point out with a smirk.

“That I do, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist at the same time.”

“You’re right,” you nod smiling.

 The writing process turns out to be harder than you thought. You’re not specifically inspired and Harry is the person to just throw things around until he finds something he likes. The two of you put together is kind of chaotic as you try to come up with something useful.

Two hours later you have a raw version of a melody that could serve as a chorus, but nothing else, no full melody, no lyrics. And if you’re being honest, you don’t like that chorus that much either.

“It’ll be fun to just stand on stage for three minutes and do absolutely nothing, because we couldn’t write anything,” you groan, sliding lower in your seat, rubbing your face with your hands.

“It’s literally our first session and we have plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t stress about it.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You don’t know how not to stress?”

“I literally haven’t had a stressfree day since about 2007, so no, I don’t know.”

“You can’t chill even when you smoke?” he asks and you give him a puzzled look. “What, you smoke, don’t you?”

“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”

“No, I’m not talking about cigarettes,” Harry chuckles softly. “You don’t smoke weed?” You shyly shake your head. “Really? I would have sworn you’re the type to relax with a good joint. Want to try it?”

“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Why not?” he shrugs and walks over to the little side table in the corner of the room and reaching into it he simply pulls a little plastic bag out with three joints in them.

“Are you just casually keeping joints around your house?”

“I don’t really smoke them, they make me feel sleepy. But some of my friends like it so I keep a few around,” he explains as he takes one out and puts the rest back. “You want to try?”

“I-I’m not sure… I have to drive back home.”

“You can stay for the night, I have three guest bedrooms,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Again, not trying to pressure you, I’m just offering.”

“Are you gonna smoke?”

“We can share one if you want. I would recommend smoking one by yourself for the first time.”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as you watch him tip-tap the joint a little, rolling it between his fingers before he takes it between his lips and reaches for a lighter. “Wait, shouldn’t we do it somewhere outside? The smoke is gonna get stuck in here.”

Harry stops, thinking about what you said and he nods. Grabbing the guitar he asks you to follow him and the two of you move up and out to the terrace, sinking into his lounge chairs. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you watch Harry light the joint and take the first few puffs. As he exhales the smoke he holds the joint out for you and you take it, hesitantly putting it between your lips as you inhale for the first time. You can’t help but scowl at the taste, the whole act of smoking feeling strange after years of smoking your last cigarette. You keep it down a little before puffing the smoke out and passing the joint back to Harry.

You keep switching until you make it past half of it and you finally start to feel the effect of it. You feel light, like you’re floating in the pool that’s in front of you, you can almost feel the water touching your skin yet you’re still dry.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, blinking at you with hooded eyes.

“I’m feeling… fine,” you chuckle softly as you take the joint from him and drag from it again. “Do you do other drugs?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, not often though. I’m not trying to pick up an addiction,” he smiles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Have you done anything?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Didn’t have the money for it before and then didn’t have time later. But I never really felt the need either.”

“And you said you put down the cigarette as well?”

“Yeah. I knew I had to do that sooner or later, it was starting to change my voice and I couldn’t have that.”

“That’s what we always told Louis, that his voice will turn to shit if he keeps smoking,” Harry chuckles softly, dragging from the joint before he passes it over to you, not much left of it.

“Did he ever stop?”

“I think he put it down when his son was born, but I don’t know if he started again.”

You give the joint back for him to finish it and you watch him put it out in the ashtray before he sinks down in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a bit, breathing steadily. You find it amusing how you can still see the guy that handed you a check years ago at that bar, trying to make things right, but he also looks like a completely different person at the same time. He is more mature and open in his mindset and just the way he approaches things in general. The Harry you met seven years ago was still searching his way, but the version lying next to you now is a lot more confident in who he really is.

“Want to take a picture?” he hums keeping his eyes closed.

“What?”

His eyes peel open and turn to face you, a smug smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been staring at me. Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

“You are way too full of yourself,” you scoff and pushing yourself up from the lounge chair you walk over to the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the way the light is dancing on the surface.

You never really thought about what weed would feel like in your system, but it feels oddly tranquil and relaxing. In a way your body feels a little strange, like it’s not even yours, but you also sense everything very… loudly.

“You alright?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind, the tapping on his feet signaling that he is walking closer to you.

“Yeah,” you nod without taking your eyes off of the water.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What?” you breathe out turning to face him.

“Do you want to go in?” he rephrases his question with a small smile.

“I don’t… have a bathing suit,” you answer and the moment the words leave your mouth they feel so ridiculous even when you were just stating the truth.

“Okay, but you are wearing underwear, aren’t you?” he smirks. “Or I’m completely fine if you want to go in naked,” he adds smugly.

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “Can you… maybe give me a pair of shorts? I’m fine without a bra when I come out but I would rather have my underwear on dry.”

“Sure,” he hums and turning around he jogs back into the house while you stay right there, staring at the water again.

With each passing moment you get calmer, the outside world and everything in life that’s not happening right in this moment eases into nothingness, your mind numbs in the best way possible.

When Harry returns he is wearing a pair of yellow swimming shorts, two towels are thrown over his shoulders and he has a pair of white shorts in his hands.

“This is the smallest thing I have, I think it’ll be fine,” he comments handing you the shorts.

“Thanks,” you nod before he shows you the way to the closest bathroom where you change out of your clothes leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the counter, you put on the shorts that are a little big on you, but once you’ve tied the strings it seems to be staying up steadily. Your simple black bra is not showing more than what a bikini top would, so you feel fine walking out in your attire.

Harry is sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs moving around in the water. His head lifts hearing your steps and he smiles at you, standing up when you arrive.

“Fits fine,” he nods, taking a look at the shorts.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

Walking over to the steps you dip your feet in first, testing the temperature before you start going in further, Harry following you right behind. Just as you expected, the water feels smooth against your skin, warmly caressing and swallowing your body as you get in, the surface reaching your chest. You let your arms move around, feel how the water runs through your fingers, it’s amusing and you enjoy it probably more than you should. It’s just water, but right now it feels like a pile of clouds.

“I know I suggested to smoke and then swim, but please don’t drown into my pool, I won’t be able to talk myself out of that,” he chuckles, easing him into the water until it reaches his neck.

“My life is in your hands, Harry,” you smirk at him before you follow him and let the water swallow your whole body up to your neck.  “This feels so nice.”

“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.

“Mm, like I’m… floating through space.”

“In a sense, you are floating in the water,” he chuckles. “You don’t feel sick, right?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smile at him shortly.

You move over to the edge of the pool, laying your arms to the side, holding yourself up so your legs could float in the water. You watch Harry dive under and swim across the pool, reaching the far end before he pushes himself over to you.

“When I went to see you perform there was a song I really liked, but I never found it anywhere later.”

“Which one?”

“The chorus went like… Crashing and crumbling, I’m fighting for my breath, Today won’t be the day I’m meeting death…”

You suck on your breath, surprised how well he remembered the lines even after so many years. He recalled them perfectly, even singing the melody a little with them.

“I never recorded it in studio,” you admit quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because it felt too emotional and I didn’t want it to be just out there.”

“What was the name of the song?”

“It’s called Till I Die. I wrote it when…” You take a deep breath, feeling heavy just by talking about it, but something is urging you to share it with him. “I left from home right after I graduated high school, broke contact with my parents completely and I had a few very rough years, trying to just… keep myself alive, I guess.”

“Can I ask why you left your parents?”

“We had very different visions of what I should become. And I didn’t intend to live the life they imagined for me. My parents are very… traditional, my career in their eyes is just some kind of circus when I’m the clown on the stage. They don’t take any of it seriously and they made it very clear at the beginning that they don’t want me to become a musician. I was supposed to become a surgeon, my dad is one and my mom is in criminal law, they both worked very hard to get to where they are, but they don’t think that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.”

The last person you shared it with was Taylor and though it feels odd to open up about these old wounds again, but having Harry as the one listening to you just feels right.

“You haven’t talked to them since you left?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“And they didn’t even try to contact you?”

“Well, I made sure they couldn't. Changed my number first thing I set my feet outside the house and I never left them any of my addresses. I know it sounds cruel, but I didn’t want to do anything with them after the shaming they put me through when I told them I don’t want to become their perfect little daughter. They told me that I could consider myself disowned from the family if I dare to even write a song.”

“Woah, that sounds really tough.”

“It was,” you nod. “I wasn’t asking them to support me in any other way apart from just being there for me. It’s not like I wanted to spend the money the put aside for my tuition to buy guitars and tour the country, I just wanted them to… accept who I am, but apparently, I asked for too much.”

You feel tears forming in your eyes, but you wipe them quickly. It’s been long since the last time you let the thought of your parents, you’ve been good at keeping these feelings bottled up and in the deepest end of your mind. It’s not like you’re going around and just share your trauma with anyone you meet, but it felt comfortable to share it with Harry.

“I’m sorry about that. Everyone should have a support, especially in our job.”

“I had… myself,” you chuckle bitterly. “Became pretty good at relying only on myself.”

“I’m guessing it’s another reason why you prefer working alone, right?” he smiles at you softly.

“You could say that,” you nod into the water.

“I know it’ll sound cheesy, but… if you ever want to talk, I’m here,” he offers.

“Oh, are we becoming friends?” you ask chuckling.

“We’ve known each other for long enough to be friends, am I right?” he smirks, splashing some water in your way.

“We met a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Everything I know about you is from articles and gossip sites and I think you can only say the same thing,” you point out.

“Okay, then let’s get to know each other.”

“What, do you want to play 21 questions now or something?” you huff.

“Damn right,” he smirks.

And that’s exactly what you do. Swimming around in the pool you ask each other questions, some are funny, some are more serious and you slowly start to get to know each other, seven years after meeting for the first time, but in a way it feels like it’s been just last week when you were talking in the alleyway.

The weed soon dies down in your system, leaving you incredibly tired and it’s only then you realize it’s already past one am. Pulling out of the pool, you both grab a towel drying yourselves up before making your way back into the house.

“The guest bedroom next to mine has a bathroom so I think that’s the best one. I can give you something to sleep in if you’d like,” Harry offers as you follow him down the hallway.

“I think I’m fine in my sweats, but thank you.” He shows you the room, tells you how to change the AC if you feel too cold or hot and then bidding goodbye he is about to go to his own room when you stop him.

“Thank you for… today. I know we didn’t get far with the song, but… I liked hanging out with you,” you admit with a shy smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about the song, it’ll be fine. And I liked it too. We can make it a regular thing, if you want. You can come over, we’d chill and try to cook up something for the song.”

“I, uhh… Yeah, that sounds good,” you nod, he shoots you a smile before turning around and disappearing in his room.

The morning doesn’t turn out at all any awkward, especially because you don’t get to stay around too long. You have a meeting at eleven so you have to leave in time to go home and get changed before that. Harry makes you coffee, which is lifesaving, the two of you sit at the terrace as you drink it and you arrange to meet in two days to try and have another, hopefully more successful session for the song.

You genuinely enjoyed your time with Harry and to think that you didn’t only smoked weed for the first time with him, but also opened up about your parents, you feel a kind of connection forming and you can only hope you’re not gonna regret it later.

You move on with work after leaving from Harry’s that morning, you have some fittings for upcoming photoshoots and an interview scheduled, so there’s not much time for you to sit around. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Harry again at his place for another session and you feel buzzed about it. You meet Taylor for lunch, sitting on the terrace of your usual place she is talking you through everything that’s coming up the next week, just like you always do so then you can put work aside and have a real chat.

“So how did the writing session go?” she asks, digging into her salad that she always asks with extra chicken.

“The writing? Not so well. But we had a good time,” you truthfully admit.

“Good, good! You’re finally making friends!” Taylor grins, satisfied with the news. You just roll your eyes at her, turning back to your food right when you notice that your phone has been blowing up with notifications.

Huffing you grab it from the table with the pure intention of muting it down completely, but then you see that several people have texted you the same link and it bugs your curiosity so you open one of the messages and tap on the link.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan, feeling your rage already pushing up your spine, clouding your vision in red.

“What?” Taylor snaps, reaching for her phone out of reflex.

“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”

“Who? Jordan? That fucker never learns?” Taylor hisses, her thumbs vigorously typing on the screen immediately.

“Someone asked him about me on Twitter and he dared to call me a lying bitch! I can’t fucking believe this man!”

You and Jordan worked together on a project a while ago. You were supposed to write lyrics to a song he was composing and it was meant for an upcoming popular Netflix show, so the anticipation around the song was huge, especially when word got out that Ariana Grande might end up singing it. During your time working together he very blatantly tried to hit on you, which you politely shut down, because one, you didn’t intend to date someone you were working so close with and two, you just simply weren’t into him. However, he couldn’t take rejection the way a mature, almost thirty years old man should. It started off very subtly, but once you’ve had a chat with him to stop posting obnoxious and suggesting things about you on his social media, because it’s making it hard for you to be taken seriously as an artist and that people will just see you as another celeb which you don���t want to be, he just completely lost his shit. He called you different names on Twitter a few times, the worst were Feminist Nazi and a cock teasing slut, and he just somehow never fails to mention that you lied about your intentions with him, when you were clearer than daylight that you didn’t want a thing from him other than work.

When you realized he isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, you took him to court, dragged his ass in front of the judge and won the case, which ended with him having to pay you thirty thousand dollars and he was ordered to clear all his platforms from your name for good. You really thought that taught him a lesson, especially because against your will, the case got some publicity and he ended up making headlines about the fault accusations he made about you, but it seems like he didn’t have enough.

You wouldn’t worry that much about his new tweet, knowing that he is the one lying, but the trials took a toll on you. It was at the beginning of the time when you were making yourself a name and even though you won, his accusations stung for some people and some even thought him to be the victim. You fell out of two brand deals and an important interview in the upcoming months which was a major setback and all for what? Because a man couldn’t accept rejection? The sad part is that if it would have happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have had to suffer any effect of it, people don’t tend to question a man’s words when he is showing this charming and nice persona to the public. If you accused him the same way you would have been dragged and titled as a sour crybaby and Jordan’s life would have carried on the same way.

The peaceful lunch soon falls through as Taylor turns on her beast mode to at least get the tweet down as soon as possible, already contacting the legal team you worked with before. It has to be against what you agreed on at the end of the trials, he can’t just go around and drag you again without any consequences.

In just about twenty minutes, the tweets disappear from Jordan’s feed, but you know it was already late the moment he posted it. If something gets out on the internet it never goes away, there are probably hundreds if not thousands of screenshots floating around that will preserve his words forever.

You part ways Taylor as he heads to an immediate meeting with the lawyers you worked together previously, she tells you to try not to worry about it, but you can’t just turn it off in you, that’s not how it works.

Making your way home you keep riling yourself up about it, thinking about what it’s gonna cause you this time, what opportunity is going to be taken because a man has called you a lying bitch, even after winning the previous trial against him that proves how big of an asshole he really is.

Changing into a casual attire you head to Harry’s place a little earlier, hoping it’s not a problem you get there an hour before you were supposed to. Arriving you’re a little taken aback seeing that there is another car parking on the driveway that’s not his and you immediately regret coming here, but before you could leave, the front door opens and Harry walks out. You couldn’t have left without noticing, the security system must have signaled your arrival when you punched the opening code in.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks instead of questioning your early arrival.

“I uhh—I’m sorry for being early, I could go—“

“Don’t be silly, come on in!” he waves at you and you walk up the stairs. “Two friends are here but they were just about to leave soon,” he explains as you walk in.

“Sorry for crashing the party,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“The more the merrier,” he smiles. “You seem a little stressed, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just… It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” you hear a woman’s voice from behind and turning around you see a smiley brunette walking towards you, a shy looking guy following behind her.

“Sarah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sarah, my drummer, and that wanker over there is Mitch, my guitarist.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with both of them you realize they look familiar from pictures you’ve seen from Harry’s tour.

“I saw that ugly tweet today, that guy needs to be kicked in the balls,” Sarah sighs with a sympathetic smile, Harry’s ears perking up.

“What tweet?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Sarah.

“Oh, just… Jordan Wells thinks it’s fine to drag people with absolutely no truth behind his words,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile.

“Jordan Wells? The name rings a bell,” Harry hums.

“He is a music producer,” Mitch chimes in.

“I think he was supposed to write for 1D one time, but the deal fell through. Guess we didn’t miss out on anything,” he jokes and it brings a genuine smile to your face.

“You surely didn’t,” you comment under your breath.

You chat with Sarah and Mitch for a bit before they decide to head out, but Sarah asks you to come around sometime they are hanging out and you gladly say yes, wanting to know her and Mitch better, they seem like great company and even greater musicians, it’s always good to meet people who are like you.

As Harry walks his friends out you make yourself comfortable on the couch, reading Taylor’s texts about the update on the recent actions, she has gotten in contact with Jordan’s team and legal steps will be taken if Jordan doesn’t show any sign of improvement in the very near future.

“Hey, want something to drink? Wine or beer maybe?” Harry walks in as you look up from your phone.

“Wine sounds fucking fantastic,” you breathe out earning a soft chuckle from him. You follow him into the kitchen and watch him get a bottle of white wine with two glasses. “I hope Sarah and Mitch didn’t leave early because of me.”

“Oh, not at all. They knew you’d be coming over and would have left around this time, so don’t worry about it.”

He joins you at the kitchen island with the two glasses handing you one and you take a sip from it with a satisfied hum.

“So, want to talk about this Jordan ordeal?”

“There’s not much to talk, really,” you shrug. “He is a jerk and I just can’t seem to get rid of him and I didn’t even date the guy…”

“What did he do this time?”

“Oh, he just casually called me a lying bitch on Twitter, so that’s fun,” you let out a fake laugh, raising your glass before taking a big swig from it.

“Not that creative, if you’re asking me,” he jokes making you laugh. “It’s a very plain choice of words.”

“Yeah, not as good as his best which was calling me a feminist nazi.”

Harry almost chokes on his wine as you say the words, coughing a little while you watch him with an entertained smirk.

“That’s… an interesting way to express his opinion about you,” he answers diplomatically.

“Right? I was thinking about getting a sign of it, like a Live, Love, Laugh one, in the middle of my living room.”

“Would be a wonderful touch of décor,” he smirks. “Alright, I have a proposal for today’s session.”

“Shoot it.”

“You seemed to enjoy your weed experience the last time, I thought we could give it a try again, but we would try to write this time as well.”

“You want to write while smoking?” you ask raising your eyebrows at him.

“Only if you want to. I just thought it would relax you a bit, might even come up with some interesting ideas for the song.”

“Are you trying to turn me into an addict?” you narrow your eyes at him and he just holds his hands up innocently.

“Told you, no pressure,” he smirks angelically.

“I feel like I’m not even coming here to work but to meet with my new dealer,” you chuckle making him laugh. “Okay, we can… give it a try.”

 An hour and one joint per person later the two of you are lounging in his living room, he is sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar on his arms while you are curled upon the sectional, fumbling with the strings of your hoodie.

“We should just… fucking steal a song,” you snort, finding your comment hilarious.

“Which one were you thinking about?” Harry smirks your way, his fingers gently strumming some random melody on the instrument.

“I really want to have a Madonna song to be mine,” you sigh dreamily.

“You’re a fan?”

“Oh, I grew up on her. I have an elaborate choreography for Hung Up,” you snort.

“You need to perform it for me.”

“No fucking way,” you laugh shaking your head. “Not even weed can make me dance for you.”

“Come on, I need to see that choreography, you can’t just hint it and then never show it to me!”

“Nah, not happening,” you laugh, sliding lower down in your seat, your head resting against the armrest of the couch.

You listen to him play the same melody over and over again with your eyes closed and though you really like what you are hearing, no words are forming in your mind that could serve as lyrics. Your phone buzzes on the cushion next to you and grabbing it you see a text from Taylor.

Taylor: Lawyers are on the case, we’ll have more tomorrow, don’t stress about it too much. Night! Xx

Sighing you drop the device back next to you, covering your eyes with your arms.

“You alright?” Harry softly asks.

“Nah, I just want to… disappear,” you sigh, tired of this fight you’ve been fighting for way too long.

“Is this about Jordan? He is a fucking ass, most people know it.”

“But not everyone!” you snap throwing your hands up. “And that fraction that still believes that he is saying the truth is enough to ruin my life. I’m fucking fed up with the injustice women have to face because of the patriarchy we are forced to live in!” Pushing yourself up you run a hand through your hair, hugging your knees to your chest. “It’s so fucking upsetting, like everything I do goes straight down the drain because of one little thing and I’m stuck with trying to rebuild my whole future plan.”

From a sudden urge, you move down to the floor, lying down on the fluffy rug that runs under the couches and the glass coffee table. It feels nice, kind of grounding to lie flat on the floor, especially because your senses are all messed up again because of the weed, but in a good kind of way.

“You worry way too much on longterm things. Try to stay in the moment a little more,” Harry tells you, putting the guitar to the side so he can move his feet to the floor, leaning onto his knees. “You can’t control this much what happens in the future, you should only care about today. And today, you’ve done good, you made it through another day, you did what you had to do and that’s it. Stressing about tomorrow or the next week or next year is just way too much to deal with all the time, twenty-four-seven, three-six-five, that’s just no way to live.”

Lying on the floor you stare up at the ceiling seemingly blankly, but your mind starts to swirl over what he just told you. The worlds are running around, mixing and mingling until something starts to form, making you gasp.

“Grab the guitar,” you tell him, sitting up abruptly. He pulls his eyebrows together, but does as you told him to, holding the instrument on his lap as he waits for you to instruct him more. “Play that… that melody you’ve been playing, but a little faster.”

He turns his attention at the guitar, trying the strings out a few times, feeling the melody under his fingers before he starts playing it just how you asked as you slowly start to sing the lines you have just thought about.

“You made it through… another day, you made it through another day… You did it, let’s celebrate…”

The lines fit perfectly with the melody he has come up with and the more you sing, the wider his smile grows as you move along in the forming song.

“Some days you feel you’ll break, but you made it through another day, yeah, you did it, let’s celebrate…”

“Don’t fucking stop!” he chimes in, never stopping the riffs, trying out new things as you go, slowly perfecting it together with the lyrics.

“Twenty-four-seven and three-six-five, you made another day, you made it alive! Made another day made it alive!” You sing loud and clear, completely lost in the melody Harry is playing, the lines just flowing out of you, like a dam has been taken down and now everything washes over you at once.

When the chorus is about to come up however you run out of ideas, your eyes meet Harry’s and he sees that you’re stuck. His eyebrows knit together, tongue runs along his lips before he starts playing the melody of the chorus and takes over the singing as well.

“So today, baby, remember it’s okay! We’re all floating through space, today, baby, remember you’re okay! We’re all floating through space…”

He plays a little with the lines, repeats them, tries a few times before he stops singing, you are now standing up, watching him end the melody, neither of you saying a word as he room grows silent. A sudden urge drives you to go closer and you sit back down to the floor in front of him, your eyes casting over the now silent instrument on his lap. Looking up your eyes meet his and you feel like the air is kicked out of your lungs.

You’ve heard so much about moments when you feel yourself pulling towards someone, when it’s like a magnetic field but you never actually experienced it until now. Staring back at Harry you feel that pull everyone has talked about and you finally understand what they were trying to say. It’s like there’s a string coming from your chest that’s connected to him and he is tugging it without even doing anything.

Reaching forward he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers dancing down the side of your face as you catch his eyes wander down to your lips. Sucking on your breath you feel the moment, you know what he is thinking about because you think about the exact same thing. Kissing him. You are desperate to find out what his lips feel against yours, what he tastes like, what it’s like to have him so close to you.

“You want to kiss me,” you whisper and it’s not a question, more like an observation.

“I do,” he admits with a soft smile, but doesn’t move closer. “Can I?”

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to do in our situation,” you breathe out, though you don’t agree with the statement fully.

“You think too much,” he chuckles softly, leaning closer just a tad bit, but there are still a few inches between the two of you. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“Then we should just do what we want to,” he suggests with a small smirk and he looks ridiculously handsome with his dimples and shining green eyes that are glued to you.

“And then what? We’ll just go on like it never happened or there’s going to be more happening? How are we supposed to—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry closes the distance between you and him and presses his lips against yours, swallowing the rest of your stammering speech. Whatever doubts and hesitation you felt just a moment ago, it all vanishes into nothing as you melt into his kiss, his lips caressing yours gently, softly capturing them, savoring and tasting you with caution, giving you the chance to pull back anytime, but nothing in your body can make you stop kissing him in this moment.

His palms cup your jaw as you push yourself up, slowly making your way to straddle his lap after he has blindly put the guitar to the side, hands coming to rest on his shoulder for leverage. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you close until your chest is pressed up against his, lips never disconnecting in the kiss.

Kissing him feels like second nature, like it’s not even the first but the hundredth time, but on the other hand, every touch and tiny sparkle is so new and unusual, you’ve never felt like this before.

Harry slowly pulls back, pecking your lips a few more times before he stops, nuzzling his nose against you in an adorable and innocent way that brings a smile to your lips.

“Doesn’t it feel good to just do whatever you feel like doing?” he asks with a soft smile, making you laugh.

“Kind of.”

“Nothing has to change. Or something can, it’s up to you.”

“You are so upsettingly cool and respectful,” you blurt out chuckling and it makes him laugh, his head falling back against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I guess?” he smirks with a shrug.

“See? Respectful!” you grin, your hands moving up to cup his face. The pad of your thumbs gently tap against his dimples that are showing thanks to the wide smile on his lips right now. You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him again, even though your rational side is trying to make you stop. You just can’t, his lips are screaming to be kissed and who are you to deny that?

You’ve been running errands all day. Following an early meeting you ran to your favorite vintage store to get another armchair for your living room. Then you went grocery shopping because your fridge has been ridiculously empty the past two days and later you had a quick fitting for a few outfits you are supposed to wear in the near future. You’ve ran into a few fans too, having small chit-chats with them, taking photos, so it’s been a busy day.

It’s been a week since you and Harry have kissed and despite your fears, it hasn’t been awkward at all. He didn’t bring it up, but you don’t feel like he is pretending it never happened, which is kind of a great balance. He is giving you just enough time and space to figure out what it really meant to you, because quite frankly, you have no idea.

Obviously, you find him attractive. You’d have to be completely blind to say that he is not handsome and just simply good to look at. You’re attracted to him and not just to his looks, but to his whole persona.

It’s just you’re not sure it’s a smart idea to start anything with the man you’re working with and though you know Harry is nothing like Jordan, part of you is still scared the whole thing will happen all over again if you get involved with another man from the industry.

Workwise, everything is going well. You’ve successfully finished the song you started that ominous evening and have started recording it in Harry’s home studio, working some more on the melody, bringing a lot more into it than just a single guitar. What more, you’ve been coming up with new ideas for other songs, lyrics popping up in either your or Harry’s head and you just keep sharing them with each other, saving them for later once the song for the Grammy’s is done.

Heading back to your place you get a call from Harry, his smiley face appearing on the screen of your face as you accept the call and his accent fills the car through the speakers that are connected to your phone through Bluetooth.

“Hey, hope I’m not calling in the middle of a meeting,” he greets you and you can tell he is smiling.

“No, I’m just on my way home. What’s up?”

“I’m meeting with Sarah and Mitch for dinner tonight, thought you’d like to join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends, I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with me.”

“But I like spending time with you,” he chuckles softly, a blush making its way to your cheeks at his words.

“Are you sure you want me there? What about Sarah and Mitch? I crashed your last meeting with them as well.”

“You didn’t crash anything, Y/N. And I’m positive I want you there, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And just so you know, Sarah asked if you’d be joining us, so I assume they wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Oh, well, okay then. Send me the time and place.”

“Wonderful!” he beams, his enthusiasm making your chest warm.

By the time you arrive home he has already texted you the details and you have just one hour to spare before you have to head out. You opt for a quick shower and an outfit change, switching up your ripped mom jeans and simple t-shirt to one of your favorite jumpsuits. It’s a little baggy, but the waist is cinched in with an inbuilt corset, giving the whole fit a very interesting twist.

Arriving at the restaurant Harry has texted you the address of, the waiter escorts you to the terrace at the back that’s a lot more secluded and you feel yourself relaxing that you probably won’t get photographed. Harry is the only one who is already at the table, sitting with his eyes fixed on his phone, but he immediately puts it aside when he sees you approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey! You look amazing!” he greets you pulling you into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks, a simple white shirt tucked into it, a knitted cardigan thrown on, a typical Harry outfit. “And thanks for the invite,” you add as you take the seat next to him, assuming Sarah and Mitch would like to sit next to each other.

“Don’t even mention it. We’re friends, it’s really nothing. I’m glad you could make it.”

The way he called you friends is giving you mixed feelings. Part of you is happily jumping up and down at the fact that he considers you as a friend, given how you don’t have many of those. It’s been hard opening up to anyone since you’ve made a name for yourself, you’ve ran into occasions a lot when people wanted more than just your friendship from you and it made you rather closed off when it comes to making friends.

On the other hand, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Is that all you are? Just friends? More importantly, is that all you want to be, or more?

Sarah and Mitch arrive soon after, joining you at the table and the waiter takes the orders before leaving the four of you alone. It seems like they genuinely like it that you’ve joined, so you can enjoy the evening a little more relieved.

Sipping on some amazing wine, you eat and talk and you feel like you’ve known these people your whole life. You especially like Sarah, she is so open-minded and funny and you think they make a great couple with Mitch who is obviously more closed off, but it’s obvious how much he worships his girlfriend.

Sometime in the evening, when you’ve already had two glasses of Chardonnay and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable, you move closer to Harry without even noticing, leaning against him gently and his hand rests on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze under the table, making you want to move even closer to him to feel more of his touch, to get more of him.

Neither Sarah, nor Mitch questions the two of you being a little cozier and you’re thankful for the safe and stressfree environment they are providing, not making you overthink what you do, just letting you enjoy the moment.

At the end of the evening, you can’t shake the thought that you don’t want to say goodbye to Harry just yet. He pays for everyone’s dinner, leaving a generous tip for the waiter and you stay back at the table while Sarah runs out to the restroom and Mitch takes a quick call from his father, leaving you alone with Harry. His hand is still resting on your leg, a little farther up, but still in a very safe zone in the middle of your thigh.

Turning to face him your eyes meet his, his green irises glistening in the soft lighting and he looks so beautiful, you just want to kiss him again.

“Do you have plans after this?” you find yourself asking.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

“That sounds like a nice plan,” he smiles at you warmly and you just know that if you weren’t out in the public, he would have leant in for a kiss and you wouldn’t have stopped him.

When Sarah and Mitch return all four of you head out and they don’t question when you follow Harry to his car. They say goodbye and Sarah makes you promise to join them some other time too and you happily say yes to the invitation.

Not much is being said on the way back to your place, he plays some music quietly as you navigate him through the streets.  

“Welcome to mi casa,” you smile as you key the two of you into your apartment you’ve been living in for the past few years.

It’s nothing luxurious, just a tad bit bigger than what one person would need as a home. You would have been fine living in your previous home you lived in before you’ve gained fame, but you needed a much bigger closet so you were forced to move. It’s a two bedroom apartment with one big bathroom, an open concept kitchen and a spacious living room. And of course, a closet as big as your bedroom. It’s the perfect size and you haven’t even thought about buying a bigger place just because you can, it would be a waste of money and space. The interior is very much vintage with all your mismatched furniture and colorful walls, but you think it’s quite cozy and just the ideal space for you.

“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water.

“Some water would be great, thank you.”

Filling up two glasses you hand him one as you lean against the counter, silently eyeing each other. It should be clear to him that you had intentions with asking him to come over, especially after being your cozy with each other during dinner, but you’re a little lost in what you should or even want to do. You just know you want him close.

He drinks up his water, his eyes meeting your gaze as a small smirk tugs on his cherry lips.

“You want to kiss me,” he states, using the exact same words you used the night when you kissed for the first time.

“I do,” you nod, feeling a little breathless.

“Then do it,” he simply answers, making you smile.

“Cool and respectful, as always,” you grin at him as he moves closer, stopping just a few inches away from you, your feet almost touching. Reaching up his fingers gently caress the side of your face and you feel yourself already melting under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a shiver running down your spine at his words. You close your eyes for a moment, giving yourself the chance to pull out of it, but you realize you don’t want that, not even the tiniest bit. Opening your eyes they meet with his gaze before you move closer, closing the distance between you and him, lips meeting in a warm and chaste kiss.

Though it grows a little hungrier, you can tell he is still holding back a little, giving you the chance to stop whenever you want to, but you don’t intend to. Pushing yourself closer to him, your arms curl around his neck as his hands grip your waist, your tongue meeting his as you deepen the kiss and melt into his embrace.

Pulling back you grab his hand and head to the bedroom, going back to kissing him the moment you reach it. You easily slide his cardigan off his broad shoulders, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants before taking it completely off, throwing it somewhere to the side. You smirk against his lips, hands wandering down his naked chest and you can’t push down a moan as you feel the warmth of his chest muscles under your touch.

When you feel him try to blindly figure out how to get you out of your jumpsuit with not much luck and this clears your head for a moment to realize what is about to happen. Pulling back your gaze meets his and he stares back at you with caution, ready to stop whenever you tell him to, but that’s not what made you pull back.

“Harry, I…” “We don’t have to do anything,” he softly tells you, his fingers dancing down the side of your face until they reach your chin and he pulls you in for a delicate and slow kiss.

“I want to,” you whisper. “It’s just that… I want you to know that I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man before.”

Searching in his eyes you look for any sign of what’s going on in his head wishing you could just simply read his thoughts.

“You’ve never been with a man?” he asks, seemingly not as surprised as you expected him to be. You nod, licking your lips, waiting for any kind of reaction, a part of you expecting to be upset, though you know he has no right to be mad at you for any of it. “Do you want me to be the first man?” he then asks, with a loving and warm smile as his hand on your hip pulls you against him playfully.

“Yes.”

“Then help me get you out of this jumpsuit, because I can’t figure it out for my life,” he chuckles making you laugh too.

You show him where the corset opens and then get you out of it with joined forces, finally leaving you standing in just your underwear. Harry’s gaze runs down your body, a look of hunger and passion shining through his green irises as he pulls you close again, kissing you with a lot more vigor this time.

Soon enough, his slacks slip to the floor and you climb to your bed, Harry following closely, climbing on top of you before rejoining your lips. Your knees open up wide for him, allowing him to sink his hips between your thighs, his crotch meeting your heated center, a moan slipping out your lips when you feel his erection rubbing against you through the material of your underwear. He kisses his way down your jawline and neck, gently sucking on the soft skin, peppering kisses along your collarbones before he reaches your chest. He easily unclasps your bra and slips the straps down your arms before getting rid of the barrier that’s been keeping him away from your naked chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathes out shakily, before his lips wrap around your right nipple, his hand cupping your other breast. You keep whining and whimpering as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple before his mouth moves over to the other breast, giving it just the same amount of attention.

He kisses down your stomach, glancing up at you as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties silently asking for your permission to go further, still so respectfully looking out for you. As an answer, you lift your hips up so he can easily slide the material down your legs and throw it to the side.

“Oh fuck!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your bud, playing with it oh so perfectly, making you shudder. If you didn’t think Harry was perfect, his tongue work is now surely making a statement on that.

With every lick, kiss and suck he pushes you closer to your release that’s nearing in a fast pace like never before. Reaching down you lace your fingers through his chocolate curls, tugging on the lightly, making him moan against your core. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, but you want to cum with him inside you, so you pull him up, lips meeting again as you still taste your own juice on him. It’s heavenly.

Without breaking the kiss you reach down and into his underwear, palming his fully hard cock, earning a satisfied growl when you wrap your hand around him. The feeling is quite unknown, you’ve only once had to face a penis before, it happened back in high school when you were still figuring out what sexuality meant to you. Gave a wobbly and quite short handjob to a guy from the grade above you, never even talked to him again. The experience left a major effect on you, never even got close to being intimate with a man, but being with Harry now is putting everything into a whole new light.

“Do you have a condom?” he mumbles against your lips, clearly just as excited to carry on as you are.

“Yeah,” you nod and let go of him, rolling to the edge of the bed so you can dig into the drawer of your nightstand, successfully finding the little silver packet. Tearing it open you hand it over to Harry and get back to your previous position as you watch him kneeling up, rolling the condom on carefully. Your lips part when your eyes fall on his cock, seeing now how big he really is. Harry catches your eyes and leaning down he kisses you softly.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?” he kindly tells you, but you smile at him coyly.

“You might be the first man I’m with, but your dick won’t be the first thing to be inside me,” you answer with a smug smirk and it brings an amused look to his face.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss as he settles himself back between your legs.

Though you really tried to sound confident the other moment, you still feel a little nervous about it and Harry senses it right away. Holding himself up on one arm he cups your face in his other, kissing you slowly, taking his time with his lips, as if he is trying to make you forget about everything else but his lips.

“Are you still sure about this?” he softly asks, looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes, but there’s none.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you,” you nod and reaching down between your bodies, you take him in your hands again, positioning him to your center.

Harry captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he pushes into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, feeling a little tight around him, but not in an uncomfortable way.

“You alright?” he asks once he is almost fully in.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you breathe out with a small nod. He pecks your lips and slowly pushes all the way in before he starts to move out and then slide in again, picking up a not too fast but still firm pace with his movements.

You gradually get used to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, it’s surely a whole different experience than using a dildo or any kind of toy you are used to. The thought that it belongs to him is bringing you a sense of intimacy you haven’t felt in a long time.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you dig your fingers into his hot skin that’s coated with a thin layer of sweat as he keeps moving, slowly picking up his pace as you both get closer to the endgame.

“Harry, faster, please!” you plead, legs coming to wrap around his waist so he can thrust in deeper, making you go completely nuts from the way your orgasm is already forming in the pit of your tummy.

He obeys without a second thought, slamming into you faster and harder, making you continuously moan his name, the room is filled with moans and panting, the slapping noise of his hips meeting yours.

Harry buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, definitely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. You just grab a handful of his hair, shutting your eyes closed as you feel yourself nearing the end.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, barely hanging on.

Instead of stretching it out and trying to play with you, Harry clearly wants you to combust. Reaching down between your bodies his index and middle fingers find your clit and he starts circling on it, adding that little extra you needed to fall over the edge.

Moaning and whimpering under his massive body, your orgasm washes over you in waves, bringing you such an intense satisfaction you’ve never felt before. He keeps up his thrusting and just a few moments later his movements fall out of his rhythm and mumbling your name over and over again, he gasps as he rides his high while you’re still trying to catch your breath following your own.

With a heaving chest Harry rolls off of you, gets rid of the condom and throws it to the small bin you keep next to your night stand and then lies flat beside you as you both just silently stare up at the ceiling, very much in the best kind of after sex haze.

“How are you feeling?” he then asks, rolling to his side, his hand coming to rest on your bare stomach. Turning your head to the side you crack a smile at him.

“I feel like I’ve just been properly fucked,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh wholeheartedly. Rolling to your side his arm falls to your waist as you scoot closer, your face only a few inches from his. He is so pretty up close, his features never fail to amuse you, hard to believe he is a real human, lying right next to you.

He closes his eyes a little, letting his head sink into the pillow as his fingers delicately dance up and down your side and back. You feel like you owe him to say something, dropping a major detail about yourself in a heated moment.

“I had two girlfriends,” you speak up, his eyes fluttering open to your words. “The first one was when I was eighteen, we dated for almost a year, then I briefly dated a guy, but it was barely just a month. And I had my second girlfriend when I was twenty. We were together for two years.”

“Are you still friends with them?”

“I still talk to the second one. Her name is Mila. We broke up because she moved to Spain for a job for a year and we didn’t want to do long-distance. Then we just… grew apart, but we still talk sometimes. She lives in Atlanta now, she has a girlfriend and she told me that she is planning to propose soon.”

A soft smile tugs on your lips as you talk about her. She was an important person in your life in a time that was truly challenging. Mila supported your dreams, she went to a lot of your concerts and she was the first one you called when you got your record deal even though you weren’t together anymore. She has seen you go from performing in dodgy bars to rocking the stage of arenas.

“Congrats to her,” Harry smiles through tired eyes. Reaching up he tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning closer he envelopes your lips in a soft kiss.

“We really shouldn’t have done this,” you hum, though you can’t wipe the satisfied smile off your lips.

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

“So what? We aren’t allowed to like each other?” he smirks cockily.

“You like me?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear,” he chuckles rubbing his eyes. “But yeah, I do like you, Y/N. A lot.”

“I… like you too,” you admit shyly. Leaning in he kisses you again before pulling you to his chest as he lies on his back.

“Can I stay the night or you want to throw me out?” he hums closing his eyes. Chuckling your snuggle to him, making yourself comfortable, enjoying the warmth of his body after so spending so many nights alone in this bed.

“You can stay, but you have to behave.”

“Oh I will behave my best, don’t worry.” A chuckle rumbles through his chest as you both fall silent and soon enough, drift off to sleep.

You wake up tangled in the sheets, but no one else is lying in bed with you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you look around and though there’s no sign of Harry in the room you spot his clothes on the floor. That’s when you hear the pots and pans clinking somewhere outside and you smile to yourself. You pull a t-shirt on with a pair of clean panties before heading out, finding Harry in your kitchen, wearing your pink fluffy robe and nothing else as he is making what seems to be pancakes.

“I don’t remember hiring a chef,” you joke walking closer, sliding a hand down his back as you lean against the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I really wanted for you to wake up but I was afraid my growling stomach might wake you up,” he chuckles as he flips the pancakes in the pan with the spatula.

“Found everything you needed?” you ask, walking over the fridge to grab the orange juice.

“Yeah, you have a neatly organized kitchen,” he hums. “Sorry for snooping around though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pouring the juice to two glasses you hand one to him which he thanks softly before placing the golden pancakes to the plate on the counter and pours another bunch into the pan.

Sipping on your juice you watch him move around, making breakfast in your robe and you can’t help but smile at the sight of this fine man in your kitchen. Harry catches you eyeing him and he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, his voice still a little groggy and husky.

“I just… really want to kiss you,” you shrug placing the glass to the counter.

“I think we are over this whole asking for permission thing,” he smirks, stepping closer he leans down and kisses you gently, tasting like orange juice and something sweet, he has probably ate one of the pancakes. His hand that’s not holding the spatula finds your waist, the t-shirt bunches up on your side as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss before you hear sizzling coming from the stove.

“Whoops, not trying to burn the place down,” he chuckles as he turns to the pan and flips the pancakes. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his jawline before stepping away from him to set the table for breakfast.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks over breakfast.

“I have a meeting with my label on Saturday, but nothing else.”

“I’m having a few friends over Saturday evening, kind of a late Grammy nomination celebration. Want to come over?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good,” you nod smiling.

“I was thinking that maybe you could spend the night and then we can finish recording on Sunday.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

Harry takes a quick shower after breakfast before heading out, promising to call you later and though it still feels a little odd that he says goodbye with a kiss, you very much like this new setup between the two of you.

Friday evening Taylor is over at your place, she loves helping you sort out promo stuff you get sent all the time, especially because you let her take whatever you don’t want, half her closet was meant to be worn by you.

Sitting on the floor with boxes surrounding the both of you, you’re digging through them with a bottle of wine, some 90’s music playing in the background, it’s a nice and relaxing evening.

Your phone lights up with a text on the coffee table and you already know it’s from Harry. You haven’t stopped texting since he left from your place just a few days ago.

Harry: Do you think it’s a look for the Grammy’s?

He attached a photo of himself in all denim, looking very much like 2001 Justin Timberlake at the AMA.

Y/N: Should I match and pull a Britney?

Harry: Is that even a question?!

“Okay, who’s the girl?” Taylor asks, making you tear your eyes away from the phone’s screen.

“Huh?”

“Last time I saw you smiling like this at your phone you were talking to that girl you met at that award show. So who is it this time?”

“It’s… not a girl,” you admit, placing your phone back to the coffee table.

“Oh, did a guy finally manage to sweep you off your feet?” Taylor gives you an amused look, genuinely surprised to hear that this time it’s a guy that has you wrapped around his finger. “What is his name?”

“Harry,” you shortly answer and see her eyes widen.

“Wait, is it… Harry as in Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Oh my God, I knew I could feel some sexual tension between you two at Jeff’s office!”

“There wasn’t any, what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see it because you were too busy trying to blow off the duet, but it was radiating from him.” She gives you a look, putting the sweater she’s been examining to the side. “So, how are things? Are you guys an item, or…?”

“We didn’t label anything, he just said he likes me and I like him too. And he… spent the night the other day.”

“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“

“Yes, we had sex,” you confirm blushing.

“That’s like huge! The first man you’ve been with!”

“I know,” you chuckle.

“How was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you truthfully admit with a sigh. “I didn’t think it could be this good with a guy. Maybe it’s just because it was with him.”

“He surely looks like a guy that takes good care of his girl. So what’s gonna happen? Are you guys together?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care about names and labels, he just likes to do whatever he wants and if I’m being honest it’s kind of refreshing. We are just… enjoying whatever we have.”

“That sounds very liberal,” Taylor chuckles. “But I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone for way too long, I think he might do good to you.”

“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.

“How is the song writing going?”

“We’re finishing up recording on Sunday. I’ll send it to you when it’s done and we can start all the paperwork and everything.”

“Amazing, you are doing great, Y/N, I’m proud of you,” she smiles and climbing over she wraps you in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Tay,” you smile at her. “Alright, now do you want these lace socks or should I burn them?” you ask holding up a whole pack of them, making her laugh.

Harry said it’s just a chill get together, nothing fancy so you decide to wear a khaki maxi skirt with a shirt tucked into it that was a gift from a fan, your first album’s name embroidered to the front. It’s one of your favorite pieces and you like wearing things your fans make you, gives the whole fit a plus.

Arriving to Harry’s place you spot that there are a few cars already parking on the driveway. You leave your overnight bag in the trunk, grab the bottle of wine you’ve brought and head inside. Unlike every time you’ve been here, the silence is now switched up with soft music and chatters, quite a few people lingering around the house already.

Just as you walk farther inside, Harry appears on the stairs and his face lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey! Did you just arrive?” He jogs down the rest of the stairs and walking up to you he pulls you close for a quick kiss without hesitation.

“Yeah. I know you said not to bring anything, but I hate coming to parties empty handed,” you chuckle softly, holding the wine bottle up.

“Thanks. Have you eaten? Jeff is grilling outside, but help yourself with anything.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Sarah and Mitch are already here, but come on, let me introduce you to a few people.”

Harry takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. He drops the wine off in the kitchen before joining all the other guests. It’s really not that many people, just about thirty of his close circle. Musicians, people he has worked with and stayed close with, people he has known for long. Everyone seems welcoming and open, many already know who you are and it’s always a good conversation start, so there are not many awkward silences, especially because Harry is always near you, making sure you feel comfortable around his friends and it means a lot to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Harry asks, when he finds you in the kitchen, refilling your glass. He walks up to you, placing a hand to your waist as he kisses into your hair.

“Yeah, your friends are nice,” you smile at him.

“I know, that’s why they are my friends,” he smirks, so full of himself. “Want to hear something interesting?”

“Always.”

“I was talking to Adam and our song came up and then out of nowhere I referred to you as my girlfriend.”

Seemingly he is testing the waters, trying to see how you react to the title, even a little afraid of what you might say, but it doesn’t scare you.

“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”

“Are you okay with it? I wasn’t really thinking about it, just slipped out.”

“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.

“You don’t have to call me your boyfriend, call me whatever you want. It’s just a habit of mine, I guess,” he explains, popping some nuts into his mouth from the little jar on the counter.

“Alright,” you nod. Harry stares back at you for a moment before a smile stretches across his face and leaning down he kisses you shortly before taking your hand and walking back to the living room with you.

The last guests leave around midnight. After bringing your bag up to his bedroom you start cleaning up while Harry walks out the last couple leaving. You start loading the washer and put away things you’ve cleaned before.

“Oh, thank you for cleaning, but you don’t have to. I can take care of it later.”

“It’s nothing, I want to make myself useful,” you chuckle softly as you start the washer. Harry comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses into your neck.

“I have other ideas for that,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the side of your face.

“Yeah? What kind of ideas?” you teasingly ask, closing your eyes when you feel his hand slide under the waist of your skirt, moving down your abdomen until it reaches your core.

“Fun kinds,” he chuckles lowly. His other hand turns your head so his lips could meet yours, you’re still pressed up against him, melting against his chest with your back just right, like you’re two puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when his fingers wander into your underwear and they start doing their magic. “Harry!” you whine, reacting intensely to his actions.

“I fucking love hearing my name from your pretty mouth,” he growls, kissing you hard before his lips part from yours and he starts bunching up your skirt.

You don’t protest, in fact, you lean forward, grabbing onto the edge of the counter as he pulls down your panties and you hear the zipper of his pants. Glancing over your shoulders you see him pull out a condom from his pocket and you can’t push down a laughter.

“Did you keep that in your pocket all evening?”

“Wanted to be ready when I finally got you all for myself,” he smirks, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, rolling on the condom.

His hands come in contact with your hips and ass cheeks, giving them a light squeeze before you feel him lining himself up with you. His palm slides up your back as he pushes into you, both of you moaning at the fulfilling sensation.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathes out as he pushes all the way inside before starting to pull out.

“Go hard, Harry. Please!” you whimper as he starts thrusting into you. Harry lets out a growl and slams into you, making you gasp at the harshness of the movement, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

The kitchen is filled with the noises coming from the washer next to you and the slapping noise of Harry’s hips meeting your ass with every forceful thrust he makes. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips, probably already making them red, but you couldn’t care less. You hold onto the edge of the counter, but then you move one hand to cover his on you, needing to touch him in some kind of way.

Leaning forward Harry kisses your back between your shoulder blades through the thin material of your shirt and you moan his name when he hits the perfect spot inside you.

“Shit, Harry! I’m g-gonna cum!” you gasp, perking your ass up more so he can go as deep as possible.

“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”

“I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah? Then hold on for a little longer, I’m almost there.”

You try your best to keep everything inside you under control, your orgasm is really on the edge and you can only hope he is nearing his end too.

“Harry! Please!”

“Fuck, okay, okay, cum for me! Let me feel you!” he moans and his words bring you the release.

You clench around him, moaning and whimpering and it finally pushes you into his bliss too. His thrusts slow down but they are hard and go deep, helping you ride the last bits of your high.

He pulls out and gets rid of the condom before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you up from your position so he can kiss your lips.

“How about we take a shower while the washer finishes?” he suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Mm, good idea.”

Once the song is fully finished you submit it to your label after an agreement that it should come out through yours, but it wouldn’t be tied to your or Harry’s upcoming album. Everyone seems to love it, Taylor is over the moon when you show her the final version and Jeff is just as happy about it. Having only three more weeks left until the Grammy’s, you send them your request to perform the duet instead of the medley they asked. Their answer comes the next day and they are more than happy to have you premiere your new duet at the show. Everything seems to be on track.

Following a rehearsal for the Grammy performance, you’re staying over at Harry’s, just eating takeout and having a lazy evening after a whole day of working. You’ve put on a new Netflix movie, but every time you look at Harry you feel like his mind is somewhere far away.

“Want to share what’s on your mind?” you ask softly, not wanting to be pushy, you’re just trying to be there for him.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” He looks up at you, clearly hesitant whether he should share it with you or not.

“About what you said about your parents.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. Pausing the movie you turn all your attention to him. “What about it?”

“I was just talking to my mom the other day, she is coming here for the Grammy’s and I thought about how you… won’t have your parents there with you.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, but then I thought about how you said you haven’t even let them contact you since then and that maybe they’ve changed their mind about the whole situation. You’ve clearly proved them wrong with building yourself a career, maybe they can now see that what they did was wrong.”

You remain silent, chewing on his words. You’ve been great at not thinking about your parents these past years, it feels weird to have a conversation about them out of nowhere. Harry takes your silence as a warning sign, though that’s not the case.

“You know what? I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s not really my business, I shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry,” he shakes his head.

“What… would you do if you were in my place?”

Harry looks at you, surprised you are willing to continue the conversation. His hand finds your thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I think it might worth a shot to just… contact them. See if they want to maybe get in touch again.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then… you know you made the right decision leaving. I know it’s scary, but I think you should take a chance.”

“I’ll… think about it,” you nod shortly.

“Take your time, do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get comfortable in his embrace before starting the movie again.

Two weeks before the show you are headed to a fitting with Harry, your matching sets are nearly done, but they needed you to try them on and make sure they fit just perfectly. True to your and Harry’s extravagant fashion, this performance won’t lack any over the top fits either. It was clear from the beginning that you would be matching, but you made it clear that you want to bring it to the level where you’d be wearing the exact same outfit, so now there are two sets of suits in the making, the pattern of the whole two piece is recalling a kind of space vibe, blues, purples and black meeting in the colors with hundreds of embroidered stars and planets littering the fabric with additional crystal stars to make it even more extra. It’s truly one of a kind, especially paired with the sheer, tulle shirt you both will be wearing underneath.

“We look fucking great, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you stand next to each other, examining yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the small podium.

“We really do,” you smirk, satisfied with how the performance is coming together. It’s gonna be the perfect way to celebrate both your first Grammy nominations, a huge milestone in your and Harry’s career as well.

Grabbing his phone he quickly takes a picture in the mirror of the two of you, pulling you to his side as you smile into the camera through the mirror. Then you leave him alone on the podium as they are pinning his pants to make it the perfect size. Stepping to your bag you fish your phone out and reading just the first few words of Taylor’s last message she sent about ten minutes ago, you feel all blood rushing out of your face. Tapping on the notification you start reading.

Taylor: Please don’t lose your head, but we are dealing with this.

She attached several articles and you start digging through them.

“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”

“Harry Styles cozied up with Y/N Y/L/N at dinner with friends.”

“Can we expect some hot make out sessions at the Grammy’s from Harry and his new beau?”

And then there’s the absolute worst.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N going to take Harry Styles to court too?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble under your breath, vigorously typing back to Taylor to take them down. Two pictures have been leaked from the time you had dinner with Sarah and Mitch, it’s so odd because it’s been weeks since then, where were these pictures all along? Not that it matters, all you want is for them to be gone.

Against your better judgment, you go online and check your social media even though you know you shouldn’t snoop around now that it’s out there. No surprise, you and Harry are trending, but the reactions are very much mixed.

The impact of your case with Jordan is still major. It doesn’t matter that you won, people are still questioning whether he said the truth or not and now they are afraid you might drag Harry down just like you did with Jordan. That you are just trying to use his fame to get more attention and then ruin his career, making a victim out of yourself again, because apparently that’s what you’ve been doing.

You’re not only being dragged, but all of a sudden, nothing is about the music and the art you are making, people just want to know if you’re fucking Harry Styles or not. A lot of the times you’re not even named, only referred to Harry’s new lover or what’s worse, his hookup. You’ve lost all the credit you worked so hard for and for what? Because you dared to have dinner with a man?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asks walking up to you. Your eyes snap up at him and he immediately sees the shock and anger in them, setting panic in him as well. “What is it?”

“The fucking… pictures,” you hiss handing him your phone so he can see the articles for himself. He scrolls through them with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before handing the phone back once he has gotten to the end of it.

“Let’s finish this up and head home, okay? We’ll figure it all out.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you nod, trying your best to keep your anger at bay while the designers finish up on the outfits.

An hour later you walk into your place, talking on the phone with Taylor, discussing the situation though there’s not much you can do at this point. It’s all out, the pictures can’t be taken down. She suggests to just keep quiet for now, she’ll call Jeff to see what could be done as damage control.

Throwing your phone to the bed you feel your whole body shaking from the anger, it’s agonizing to know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll figure it out,” Harry speaks up, trying his best to calm you down, but it’s not really working this time.

“Stop saying it, you don’t know that for sure. I can’t believe this bullshit is happening all over again,” you breathe out shaking your head.

“Again?”

“Yes! I’m being fucking dragged for something I shouldn’t be.”

“People will always have controversial opinion on everything, you can’t get them all to like you.”

“It’s not about liking, Harry!” you snap. “I couldn’t give a damn about people liking me, but they discredit my work. Have you read those articles? I’m seen with a man and suddenly, I’m not even seen as an artist anymore. I’m not even my own person in some of them, just a girl who is linked to you. How is that fair?” “It’s not, but stressing yourself about it until you’re sick is not gonna help anything,” he retorts in a firm voice.

“So I should just sit around and so nothing while watching all my work go to shit?”

“Nothing is going to shit! This is how it goes, there’s always something people talk about but they will forget about it in a week. That doesn’t take anything away from what you’ve proved through your career.”

“Now that’s a lie. Because if they did forget about things in a week, they wouldn’t be bringing up the whole Jordan thing now. I dared to stand up for myself against a man and look where it took me to! I’m the drama queen, the lying bitch who likes to ruin men for apparently no reason and they see me as a threat when it comes to you too. People are talking about how I’ll take you to court as well, they think I’m just using you even though they know nothing about me! And the worst part is that it wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a woman. Whatever happens, however we react to the situation, it will never have the same effect on your career than it will have on mine.”

“So what, you’ll just live your life without ever doing anything that’s gonna upset people? There will always be someone who’ll judge whatever you do, you can’t do anything about that and if you let them get to you now, they’ll know they can mess with you easily.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore everything? And not do a single thing about it? It’s easy for you, you’ll walk away from this without a scratch on your name, because you are a white man who can do no wrong in the eyes of the world.”

“Okay, now you are being mean for no reason.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you retort. “And you know what else is part of the truth? That I’m not even having it the worse. There are women who are even more targeted because of their religion, their skin color, their nationality or sexuality and people don’t even realize how hard it is for any of us. I’m sick of the injustice we have to live with just because of our gender!”

“I do acknowledge the problem on hand, I’m aware of it and I’m all for doing against it, but we are not gonna solve it instantly, it’s a long process. Sometimes we just have to pull back a little, be smart about things.”

“They will never stop about this,” you shake your head, stubbornly clinging onto your opinion. “I won’t be seen as a serious artist anymore, just some girl who was linked to you. It’s fucking done, over.”

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” Harry asks with caution.

“Exactly what you are thinking about,” you reply with a bitter laugh. “I can’t be a respected artist if I’m with you.”

“That’s not true. It will die down, they will see that you are more than just who you’re dating and everything will be fine.”

“What’s not fair is that I have to work for it to be fine while you are still the same artist you were before it all blew up. Don’t you think it’s unfair?” you call him out and part of you knows you’re being mean and unnecessarily rude to him, but you just can’t control it any longer. You need to let it out and unfortunately, he is the one who is here to take the blame.

“It is, but what are you expecting me to do about it? Release a statement asking people to only talk about my dating life to make it equal? What can be done is that we try to fight this together, show them that you’re more than just a woman who is linked to a man in any kind of way.”

“Yeah, like realization is just gonna hit them,” you snap. “I’m at a turning point in my career, Harry. Whether I win a Grammy or not, this time is going to have an impact on my future. If I’m seen as just a girl linked to you, I’ll never make it. I’ll be forgotten and dragged again and I can kiss my career goodbye.”

You know you were way too harsh, but it’s what you think to be the truth. You didn’t fight your way to this point in life just to be seen as a man’s girlfriend rather than the artist you truly are. And right now, you can’t see yourself get out of this situation without letting go of Harry.

“Y/N, please don’t let this ruin what we have. We can get through this, you can’t let them control your life this much. Who are they to tell you what to do? That’s not the Y/N I know, come on!”

He tries to step closer, reaching out for you, but you take a step back, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“I would prefer to be alone now,” you sternly say, folding your arms on your chest, closing yourself off from him as you don’t even look at him, because if you did, you know you would break.

“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“

“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.

He stares at you, hoping you might change your mind, but you’re quite set on this. He knows you well enough to know you won’t budge anytime soon. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly turning around, he heads towards the door as you’re already fighting your tears back. He stops right before he is about to walk out.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he quietly says before walking out, the door shutting closed behind him.

The sobs start immediately and you fall to the ground, tears soaking your cheeks, already missing him more than anything in your life. You really thought it would be different this time, that things might get better, but you were naïve.

The next two days go by in a blur. The whole fucking internet is filled with those damn pictures of you and Harry, nothing has been about any of your Grammy nominations or even about your music, you’ve officially became the woman Harry Styles is dating.

Harry was titled as a Grammy nominee in every goddamn writing that surfaced, he was completely credited for his work while you could be happy if your name was written correctly. With every new article, your faith in having the career you worked so hard for lessened until you felt hopeless. You’ve officially became a dumb celebrity, just a woman who was known to be dating a man in the industry.

On the evening of the second day you have enough. You just read yet another degrading piece of you that was clearly written by a man, they once again talked about your case with Jordan, joking about history repeating itself and you swear you could scream and throw a tantrum like a baby at how useless and helpless you feel.

You put your laptop to the side and reach for your phone, dialing Taylor’s number.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks right away, knowing well how hard these past days have been. She came over the evening you sent Harry away and tried to comfort you, but nothing could help you that night.

“Hey, I want to ask you to do something and not try to talk me out of it.”

“Oh God…” she sighs, already knowing you’re about to do something stupid according to her.

“I don’t want to perform at the Grammy’s.”

“What? With all due respect, are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m not stupid. But I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, this has got to be the most ridiculous move you’ve ever tried to pull. Why do you want to throw such a huge thing away?”

“I can’t… sing that song with Harry. If I stand on the stage and sing with him… I just can’t do it, Tay.”

“Of course you can! Suck it up! I know you miss him and it fucking sucks what’s happening, but you have to do it!” she tries to convince you, but you’ve already made your mind up.

“No. I’m not doing it. Please let them know that it’s going to be just Harry performing.”

And with that, you end the call.

Taylor knows better than to try to fight you, she doesn’t call back though you know she wants to murder you right now probably, but she’ll come around, she always does. You make yourself a tea hoping to relax your nerves with it though you know nothing can help you now. You wish you had someone to rely on, someone you could talk to right now, but usually Taylor is that person to you and lately Harry has been your support, but you can’t call either of them. The rest of the people you consider friends… they are just not that close to you. You’re left alone, again.

As your gaze wanders over to your phone, a thought pops up in your mind that makes your hands sweat. You think back to the conversation you had with Harry about your parents and you can’t shake the urge off to finally make that call.

“Fuck it,” you breathe out and grab the device, opening up the contacts until you find what you’ve been looking for. Your thumb hovers above the call button for a while before you finally tap on it and start the call. It rings four times before a voice speaks up on the other end.

“Halo?”

“Hi mom,” you reply and hear a gasp from her at your voice.

There’s less than a week left until the Grammy’s. For your own sake, you haven’t been online outside of answering work emails, you just can’t deal with the shit show your life has become on the internet.

You haven’t left your home unless you really needed to go somewhere, did most of your meetings over the phone or videochat and postponed a fitting as well. You’ve officially caved yourself up in your apartment and you are not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Taylor keys herself in, she hasn’t even mentioned that she might drop by, but you’re not surprised. She is probably here to try to bring you out of this pity party you’ve been holding for days. When she sees you lying on the couch in sweats and messy, unwashed hair, she sighs, shaking her head.

“You really need to pull your shit together, Y/N.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your fuzzy blanket up to your chin.

“No, you’re not. This is not the bad bitch I know.”

“Bad bitches have bad days too.”

“This is not a bad day, you look like a fucking zombie. This is not what a Grammy nominee should look like days before the big show.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m performing or anything,” you shrug, but the look in Taylor’s eyes make yours go wide. “Taylor, I’m not performing, you informed them about it, right?”

“This is why I’m here,” she sighs walking closer, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I never cancelled on your performance.”

“I told you I’m not doing it!” “I know, but I was hoping you might come around. But you seem to be still acting like a stupid bitch, so that didn’t happen. However, I’ve gotten an interesting email today.”

She pulls out her phone and opens the email before handing it over to you. Shooting her an unhappy look you start reading.

-

Hi Taylor!

I got your email address from Jeff, wanted to write to you myself. I’ve officially pulled out of the Grammy performance so it’s going to be only Y/N in it. We are also working on a statement to release over the whole ordeal and my lawyers have been after the bigger gossip sites to get the articles down. I want Y/N to have the Grammy experience she deserves and I know it can’t happen with me in the performance. Tell her that I’m sorry for ruining it for her, she deserves so much more. I’m sorry she was brought into this.

I hope to see you soon, take care!

Harry

-

With parted lips, you look up at Taylor who is smiling softly at you.

“He… pulled out for me.”

“He did. Talked to Jeff on the phone, they have already let them know Harry wouldn’t be performing, they will make it official tomorrow.”

“But he deserves this just as much as I do. He is a nominee too.”

“Well, seems like he values you more than his own success.” Taylor lets out a long sigh and scooting closer she places a hand to your knee. “Look, I know you’re upset about how the media treats you just because you were seen out with Harry, and I know that you’re afraid of getting labeled as just the girl he dates and not get taken seriously as an artist, but you can’t let them stop you from living your life how you want to. There will always be judgment, there will always be men who are worse than trash and want to bring you down, but you are stronger than that. Pushing Harry away and being alone for the rest of your life is not a solution. What you can do to put them to their place is give them a big fuck you, date the hottest man in the industry and continue being the bad bitch that you are, fighting against the way you are being treated. Speak up, show them who they are dealing with, share your truth, like you always do! But you can do all of this with Harry by your side. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy, don’t make yourself miserable because we live in a world where men are still placed above women. Fight for the change but don’t forget to think about yourself as well in the process.”

You feel the tears sting in your eyes. The weight of this past week is just way too heavy to carry, but Taylor is right and you are realizing that you’ve made it harder for yourself. The sobs come before you could stop yourself and Taylor pulls you into a hug.

“I know, I know. It fucking sucks, but you can’t let them win,” she soothes, running her hands up and down your back. “Show them how big of a bad bitch you are and get the man too.”

“You think Harry still wants to be with me?”

“I think that man would be on his knees for you in a heartbeat if you asked,” she chuckles pulling back. “Statement about the performance will be released tomorrow. That’s how long you have to figure it out,” she tells you with a knowing look before leaving you alone with your thoughts, however you don’t have to think long what you have to do.

You have not been the only one these past days took a toll on. The fight the two of you had left Harry completely drained, angry and helpless. He hated that he was the reason you weren’t credited as the talented artist that you are and he couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make it better. That’s when he came up with the idea of pulling out of the performance.

Now he is ready to spend the remaining days until the award show hidden from the world, not even leaving the house. Everyone close to him knows he is better not to be disturbed now, so he is quite surprised when the security system lets him know that someone has arrived.

As you drive up to his house you spot him immediately, stepping out the front door with a shocked look on his face, probably expecting you to be the last person to be there at the moment. You wipe your sweaty palms against your thighs as you walk up to him, feeling anxious to see him and talk to him, especially after the last conversation you had.

“Hey, I’m sorry for coming here without calling or anything…” you shyly start, stopping in front of you.

“Don’t be silly. Come… Come on in,” he clears his throat inviting you inside.

You’ve walked through this front door so many times in the past almost two months, but this is the first time you feel so odd, standing out, like you have no place in here and it’s all thanks to yourself.

“Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Harry walks past you but then turns to face you, talking to you with such warmth and kindness, even after how you acted, putting blame on him for something he has no control over. It completely breaks you and can’t stop your eyes from watering as you look at him. You really hoped you’ve run out of tears in the past days, but it seems like that’s not the case at all.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out shakily and you step closer to each other at the same time, he envelopes you in his strong arms and you fist his shirt at his chest. “I know it was none of your fault, I just got so desperate and afraid that it might ruin what I worked so hard for.”

“I know. And you were right about everything. Everything you said was true and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t right to be mad at you just because you have different privileges, it’s not like you can change who you are. So I’m really sorry about that, and also for pushing you away when you were just trying to be there for me. I was so stupid,” you breathe out, wiping the tears sliding your cheeks down away.

“You just panicked, it’s okay. Don’t apologize for wanting to protect yourself.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder you wait for your sobs to die down before you look back up at him. Reaching up he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at you warmly and that smile alone ensures you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the right person.

“Taylor showed me the email you sent her,” you bring it up, clearing your throat.

“You deserve it all to yourself so people can see how amazing of an artist you are.”

“I’m not doing it without you,” you shake your head stubbornly. “We wrote the song together and we’re gonna perform it together or else I’m not doing it either.”

“Y/N, you know if we step on that stage together they are gonna twist the whole thing and make it about something else. I want you to have this opportunity for your career without me ruining it with just my presence.”

“Fuck them, if they take it as something it’s not. They are not gonna take the chance away from us to perform our song. If they are such fucking dumbasses that they make it all about what’s between us, that’s their own personal problem. If I need to, I’ll go on a Twitter rant and tell them this myself. I want you on stage with me or else I’m not doing it either.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, pressing his lips together as he stares back at you, probably realizing you are dead serious about pulling out of the performance and he is right. He doesn’t even know you were the first one to cancel on it, you’d do it again without hesitation.

“I guess we are performing then,” he cracks a small smile and throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down, lips smashing against his, the kiss mingling with giggles and smiles.

Harry wraps his arms tight around your waist, pulling you up from the ground as he spins you around, making you squeal as you hold onto him.

“I have to call Jeff to call the Grammy’s not to post the statement,” he hums against your lips and he pecks them a few more times before letting go of you to quickly make a call to his manager.

You move over to the couch in his living room as he talks to Jeff, who is luckily very understanding about the sudden change. Hugging your knees to your chest you watch him pace the floor, exchanging a few more words with the man on the phone before ending the call, his gaze dropping to you again. Sitting beside you, he kisses your temple, dropping an arm around your shoulders as you lean against him, head resting on his chest.

“I called my mom,” you drop the bomb suddenly and you can feel him tense up for a moment, probably shocked by your words.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head your gaze meets his as you carry on. “She was… very shocked to hear my voice.”

“I bet,” he hums. “What did you talk about?”

“I just… asked how they are doing and told her that I’ve been thinking a lot about them. She sounded genuinely touched by it and said I’m always welcomed for dinner or lunch if I’d like to see them.”

“That’s amazing! See, I told you they would love to hear from you!”

“Yeah,” you smile at him softly. “I think I want to go over sometime after the Grammy’s.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”

“Would you please come with me?”

Your question catches him off-guard he seems surprised that you would want him there, but then his expression softens as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I would love to, if you want me there.”

“I do,” you nod.

“Then it’s settled,” he smiles warmly as you lay your head back to his chest, his fingers gently dancing up and down your arm and for once in your life you finally feel settled, like everything is going to be fine.

Highlights of the 63rd Annual Grammy Awards: Y/N Y/L/N blows up stage with new hit duet

The killer duo surprised us all with a brand new duet titled Floating Through Space, performed it together on their big night. Wearing matching galaxy themed suits, Y/L/N and Styles have closed off the evening with probably the most success, the latter winning two out of his three nominations, receiving the award for Best Music Video and Best Pop Vocal Album with his latest album, Fine Line, while Y/L/N was titled best new artist, becoming a Grammy winner early in her career.

Tabloids blew up earlier this month when the two singers were photographed cozied up at dinner with friends, speculations started about their possible romance, but Y/L/N has made a clear statement on the question with her red carpet appearance before the award show. Wearing a head to toe black Gucci gown paired with a dramatic cape, the message “I’M AN ARTIST, ASK ME ABOUT MY ART” painted onto it in red, making a bold statement about her opinion on the way the media has been treating the star.

Both singers remained silent on their alleged romance, but proved to be the best of their time with their joined performance with their new emotional duet. Following the song’s debut on stage it was released to the public as a single right away, taking over all charts with its overwhelming success.

Listen to Floating Through Space now on Spotify and Apple Music!

Your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel as you stare up at the home you grew up in. It looks almost the same, sometime through the years you haven’t been around your parents have painted it a light blue color from the paste yellow, but it’s still… the same.

“Hey.”

Turning to your right you look at Harry who is smiling at you warmly as his hand reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, you’re still their daughter.”

“That’s not what they told me the last time I was here,” you whisper, feeling your throat closing up.

“We all say things in the heat of the moment. Seeing how happy they were about this lunch proves that they regret what happened.”

Nodding you take a deep breath to get ready for whatever is going to happen. Leaning over the console you pull Harry in for a kiss and it calms your nerves a little. Getting out of the car he takes your hand and squeezes it to let you know he’ll be right by your side all along. As you walk up to the front porch a sense of strong nostalgia washes over you.

You didn’t have a bad childhood, your parents provided you so much growing up, it’s sad to think what it has become. In a way you feel more anxious than walking the red carpet a week ago for the Grammys even though you’re just meeting your parents, but this is a turning point in your life that needed to come sooner or later.

“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be fine,” Harry murmurs, kissing your forehead before you ring the doorbell, feeling weird that you come here as a guest, not as someone who belongs here.

You hear footsteps approaching on the other side, two frames appear through the clouded glass of the front door and then it flies open, pushing all air out of your lungs, clinging tightly onto Harry’s hand. There’s a moment of silence and just staring at each other before the tiniest smile tugs on your lips.

“Hi mom, hi dad.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[oreoambitions]

1.1

They are an hour outside of National City before Alex becomes aware of the exhausted numbness that has taken root somewhere deep within her bones. Her hands on the steering wheel seem like someone else's hands, and it's someone else's eyes on the dusty excuse for a road over which it feels like someone else is guiding the SUV. The static pouring out of the radio seems to be coming from somewhere very far away, even - or perhaps especially - when Nia reaches over from the passenger's seat to twiddle the dial from static to desperate call for help to static again. The map on the GPS device seems almost dreamlike in a strange, shimmering, distracted sort of way. There is a part of her that can't stop thinking it happened so fast, it happened so fast over and over again, and the rest of her is quiet. Focused and efficient. Execute the next task and the next task and the next task until things get better.

There is a part of her that suspects things are not going to get better. In the rearview mirror she can just see Kara, seatbelted in and slumped over, blissfully unconscious the last two hours or so but beginning to stir now. Lena sits in the backseat beside her, face an impassive mask, one hand fiddling endlessly with the bandage wrapped tight around the other arm. It's a gunshot wound - Alex verified herself - but it will put her at risk if they run into strangers on the road. Everyone is going to be a little overcautious for a little while; for so many reasons, it's better to keep out of sight. Hopefully the others understood the seriousness of the message when Alex told them not to travel in the dark, because headlights right now might as well be a flashing neon sign reading "I'm here! Shoot at me and steal my supplies!"

The numb, quiet part of Alex sort of whishes someone would shoot at them so that she could shoot back, and that's a feeling she shoves deep down where she doesn't have to think about it for a while. Better to think about how only the most charitable of travelers might refer to this particular stretch as a road, and about how these aren't off-roading tires and AAA isn't coming to bail them out if she hits the wrong rock the wrong way.

She's trying not to think about how AAA probably isn't coming to bail anyone out ever again when Kara begins to mumble and then abruptly comes awake with a shout and a thrash that might, on a better day, have threatened to overturn the SUV. Alex and Nia share a glance, and Alex prepares for the onslaught of indignant questions. How dare you, and how could you, and how many people did you leave behind, and why in a thousand variations. Alex has been rehearsing answers in her head as if there are any acceptable answers to rehearse, but Kara doesn't ask. She buries her fingers in her own hair and makes a strangled noise that will probably break Alex's heart later when the numbness has begun to fade. And then she says, "Rao, I- There were so many, I- I'm so sorry."

Alex understands that there were so many will be Kara's it happened so fast and doesn't know what to say. She and Nia exchange another glance. Nia reaches for the radio, hesitates, and withdraws her hand. For a long time the only sound in the car is the static and the crunch of tires over dirt and Kara weeping quietly in the back seat until, with a deep shuddering breath, she pulls herself upright and peers out the window.

"Where are we going?" She asks.

It's almost a relief to have an easy question to answer. Alex passes back a ratty packet of tissues from the center console. "There's an old DEO safehouse in the desert," she says. "More like a bunker, really. Colonel Haley had it built just in case. Food, water, weapons, and shelter for a couple dozen people. Should be a really nice radio there too." She doesn't mention that the facility was built just in case Kara - specifically Kara - decided to turn on the American government, and she doesn't mention the kryptonite she suspects is still buried deep underground there. Those are details relevant to another life and another world.

"The DEO doesn't mind us squatting in their club house?"

Alex's fingers tighten on the steering wheel until her knuckles are white, and she's surprised to find she has to swallow hard before she can speak. "Pretty sure there is no DEO anymore," she says, "But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Kara swallows too, audibly, and her voice is rough when she says, "National City?"

Lena answers, "Lost."

Kara doesn't ask what Lena means by that, and the absence of the question is almost more difficult than trying to answer it might have been. It happened so fast. But Kara knows that. She knows how fast it happened because she was there at the parade when it all went to hell for National City. She knows because even she, super speed and all, could not keep up. Not that she didn't try and try and try until she solar flared. Not that Alex and Nia didn't try alongside her until it became a choice between Kara's life and a losing battle to save a city already half dead. In the end, that choice was surprisingly easy.

Alex swallows again and tries to relax her hands on the wheel. The parade is something from someone else's life. It’s something that happened to someone else, maybe some other Alex, some poor asshole who is going to carry around some gnarly emotional scars when this is all over. It has to be some other Alex because this Alex has responsibilities, and responsibility #1 is to get Kara to safety. Everything else - next steps, grief, anger, denial, whatever - can wait until they are safely underground. Almost there now. Just a little further.

They have maybe another three hours of daylight. The quiet focused part of Alex is thinking about the other two SUVs behind them, and when they might have left the city, and whether Kara is going to be able to sleep if they're still waiting on people when the sun goes down. She’ll need the rest. There are no sunlamps where they’re going and no one in this car has any idea how long it might take to recover from a solar flare without them. They’re twenty minutes or so from the safehouse now as they turn onto what is more clearly a dirt road and not potentially just a wide trail or perhaps a dry riverbed.

"We got Barry on the phone before the signal cut out," Nia is explaining. "He and Oliver are getting some people together and they're going to meet us here in a couple of days. It's a long, dangerous trip but we all agreed it was worth trying to rendezvous. We don't know how long this is going to last."

"Kate?"

"We haven't been able to raise anyone from Gotham."

Alex tries not to see Kara digesting this information in the backseat, tries not to see her putting the pieces together. Somehow so long as Kara is living in the old world, the old world is still alive, and Alex is still going to be okay. They're all going to be okay. They're going to get far, far away from this and wait until it blows over, and it's going to be fine. The dead will stay dead and the living will stay living and they’ll go on with their busy, blissfully insignificant lives. For a moment longer, Alex can still think these things to herself and almost believe them.

And then Kara says, "It's everywhere, isn't it."

Nobody answers that. Lena squeezes Kara's knee and offers her a thin, sad smile. Nia gazes out the window with tired eyes and a distant expression that Alex suspects is a mirror of her own. And Alex watches the road, quiet and focused and numb.

[seriesxwriting]

I’m gonna end up in prison anyway.

JJ maybank x you! <3

JJ is upset about jhon B being in prison and takes it out on you… but JJ soon realises he’s in the wrong and apologises confessing his love for you at the same time <3.

Warnings- kissing and swearing. I think that’s it.

Also just wanna say that I know all my writing has been outer banks characters but more characters are coming soon I promise. I’m just obsessed with this show at the moment :)

“JJ your an idiot!” I yelled at him once he’d climbed in to the speeding car explaining what he had tried to do. “well I’m going to end up in jail anyway so who fucking cares” JJ ran his fingers through his blonde hair avoiding eye contact with me sitting tight in the seat next to him.

“I fucking care JJ” I mimicked him in a calmer tone.

He looked at me still panting from the run “you alright?” Pope eyed his best in the mirror from the front seat. “Just a shit day” he inhaled and exhaled loudly turning his whole body away from me and staring out the window.

What the fuck was he thinking trying to bust jhon B out with that plan! We needed to prove his innocents not go on the run again.

Ki drove us back to where we were staying in silence. Her and pope went off in to the night talking about some random stuff, giggling some might say flirting. “y/n” he called out when I was walking away from the car minding my own business “what”.

JJ came around to my side climbing out of the white suit he was dressed in tying it around his torso.

“You still mad?”

“I’m not even mad JJ I’m -just worried” I stuttered trying to think of the right words so I would give him any clues to how I really felt about the boy.

“John B is in prison! I needed to do something It’s him you should be worried about” “I am! But I’m worried about you as well your acting like an idiot your not going to prison JJ so stop blaming all your shit on that, it’s not down to you we’re all doing everything we can to free him but your choices there down to you! So watch them”

“None of you are doing anything” he scoffed, I went closer to take his hand in mine. “why do you think your going to prison?” I whispered looking up at his beautiful eyes holding his hand in to my stomach.

“Because I am! Im going to end up in prison anyway so what’s the point” he shouted pulling away from me looking up at the sky with the roll of his eyes.

“well I’m not gonna let you!”

“You can’t do anything about it y/n were all fucked! ki just got kicked out of her parents house Pope hasn’t been home for days! My dad is a dick head- so is Sara’s and you, I don’t even know what your doing here you could go back home to you warm fluffy bed any time you wanted… John B is already in prison it’s just a matter of time before we’re ALL in there too” he shouted at me with tears in his eyes.

I wanted to hug him because he was in pain but he’d hurt me.

“FUCK YOU! I’m a pogue”

“are you? Do you want to be in prison with us” JJ asked me calmly with a hint of a smile.

I pushed him on the chest and he stumbled back a bit looking at my face knowing he’d hurt me.

“your upset …about John B I know, but you don’t have to be such an asshole! If you wanna fuck your life up and go prison be my guest JJ… but you won’t see the others in there, don’t say I didn’t try to help you because that’s all I’ve EVER tried to do” I shouted with a tear sliding out my dolled up eyes. Side looking him before turning my back with attitude and leaving JJ stood there. Alone.

I couldn’t believe I was actually in love with that ass, he’d never spoken to me like that how I knew he was just hurt.

But I wasn’t going to take that it’s not acceptable, no one should be spoke to like that and if he wanted me to forgive him he was gonna have to work for it. I went to sleep soon after that, on the beat up sofa with scrappy blankets feeling empty inside, though I didn’t get much sleep overall.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, playing back the conversation in my head overthinking it. finally getting to sleep around five am.

“Don’t tell me how to wax my bored!” Is what I woke up to.

My head was clanging from lack of sleep and the sun glaring down at me through the dusty window.

“Boys, SHUT UP” I sailed out to them, not being in the mood to be awake yet “sorry y/n! JJ is just being an idiot”

“what else is new?” I wondered to pope coming out into the straight heat blocking the sun with my hand.

Kiara and pope laugh at me while JJ stood there looking guilty underneath his sunglasses. His face showed that he regretted what happened last night but I really wasn’t interested at the moment. He’d pissed me off.

“Don’t you think he’s using to much wax?” Pope pointed at the bored in JJ’s hands.

“don’t tell me how to wax my bored! Jeez”

JJ lifted up his sparkling sunglasses up on to his head in anger at pope.

“I’m just saying…” “guys seriously stop it!” Kiara looked up giving them daggers clearly getting annoyed. “Remember when y/n suggested you shut up, listen to it!”

“wait shhh.. do you hear that?” JJ rotated his head and eyes away from me peering in to the distance of the road “is that…” I trailed off listening out. Jhon b swerved around the corner in his van with a huge smile on his face. The feeling in the air changed immediately.

“JHON B?!” Kiara jumped over the sofa throwing her magazine on the floor running towards him excitedly flopping in to his arms

The boys followed jumping in to a happy group hug I didn’t Wanna disturb. Though it did put a smile on my face.

“what the hell bro?” JJ slapped John B on the back with a beautiful smile fixed on his face. It was nice to see him genuinely smile.

“They let me go” he smiled shrugging while everyone took a step back.

“Come here” jhon B laughed putting his arms out to me, I’d stayed in the dorm frame the whole time just watching. I bounced over and we met in the middle hugging tightly. “Ugh it’s so good to have you back” I whispered softly

“but they just let you go?” Pope questioned confused.

“Sure did- charges were dropped, wheres Sarah?” He looked around and then at me.

“She didn’t come back last night” JJ sighed so I didn’t have to answer “she went to meet wheezie and didn’t come back” he explained again in more detail when John B looked at me for answers again.

Suddenly out the corner off our eyes we saw a speedboat heading to us, with topper and Sara. The confused ,but happy to be reunited, pogues all ran towards it but gently my wrist was grabbed. Stopping me from following.

“can I talk to you?” JJ asked with a sad soft face pointed to the floor,

“maybe if you actually look me in the eyes for once” I told him while folding my arms defensively so I’d get out of his grasp.

“I’m- sorry I’m so sorry y/n, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that you didn’t deserve to hear that, it came from a place of anger and worry and sadness it wasn’t meant for you”

“That’s what I said to you JJ, I also said I was here for you but you can’t push me away like that” I attacked him with guilt “I know that…” “but theres a reason” JJ fixed his top setting it straight and looked dead into my eye.

This time he took my hand…myy heart beat quickened as I grew more nervous thinking about all the possible things he could say.

“Uh… okay, I really like you..y/n” JJ confessed with a smirk.

“W-what?” My words didn’t know how to come out and my body insisted on making me look like an idiot. I forgot got how to control my body, my mouth was open in shock with What the boy had just said.

“me?”

“Yes, you” JJ’s laughed filled my ears flicking his blonde hair out his eyes . “I said all that’s shit to you yesterday because I know I’ll never be good enough for you… and that hurts so I fucked things up.. but I don’t wanna fuck this up”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, I like you too” I told him softly snaking my hands up to his face holding it so he was looking at me. It was all such a rush.

“but you need to work on your eye contact because you have such pretty eyes” I smiled against his soft lips before kissing him.

Our tongues entered each others mouths and my hand held on to his blonde hair for support. We both pulled away out of breath and burning with the excitement of young love. leaning out foreheads on each other’s.

“Fucking hell y/n, I’d thought out every possibility about how this would go but none of them where like that” he breathed quietly, giggling holding my waist and bringing me closer to his body.

“I promise I won’t ever shout at you again”

“I can deal with the shouting JJ ,it’s the part where you put your self down! That hurts me because I believe in you”.

He looked taken back, “no one- has ever spoke to me like you have” he whispered in realisation, “well then you better fucking listen to what I have to say huh” I raised my eye brow chewing on my bottom lip

JJ nodded his head grinning down before pulling me in to a hug.

“thank you” he whispered in my ear. “For what?” I looked at him funny “for not giving up on me” “no I like you too much” I shrugged looking at the floor to distract my smile.

“I promise I won’t ever give up on you” I told him seriously.

JJ beamed and leant in for another kiss warming my heart and securing me in his strong arms.

[ninebluehearts]

Only in your dreams

Summary: Your aunt made your life a living hell. You couldn't escape from her even in your dreams. Until you found him.

Warnings: Abusive guardians, abusive relationship mentioned briefly, manipulation, dead parents (reader), depression, anxiety.

A/n: Hey guys! This was kinda sad one, but I mean- if you guys want a part 2 with a happier ending then let me know and I'd be happy to write it! Enjoy 💕

-------------------------------------------------------

You ran back into your room, loating the suffocating nostalgia that you couldn’t seem to escape. You’ve run up these stairs over a million times in the thirteen years that you lived there. And here you are now, running up the same old, dusty stairs eight years later. And just like before, it’s to get away from her.

Your Aunt was always there for you as a child. She assisted with homework in any way she could, allowed you to work at a small, rundown ice cream shop down the street over the summer, and even took you in when your parents got too sick to take care of you.

To everyone in town, she was a hero. To you, she was the villain. Your Aunt Martha hid her abuse behind smiles and threats. Half the time, you didn’t even realize she had maniplulated you until you were sobbing in your bedroom, wondering if you were the problem.

You cursed your parents every day for allowing this wretched woman to take you, struggling to understand how nobody could see past her little facade. At the age of five, your parents got too sick to take care of you. So, they signed you over to her, insisting that she could care for you the best.

Boy, were they wrong.

It wasn’t the lying or manipluation that got to you, it was the hateful remarks about your appearance that did. She hated you for inheriting your Father’s eyes and even grew jealous of your hair, which was a replica of your Mother’s. There wasn’t much she could do about your eyes, but she constantly begged you to dye your hair a different color. Any color. As long as it didn’t look like hers, she would leave you alone.

But these small features of yours were your favorite. You loved gazing at the mirror and seeing your parents in you, relishing the way you looked like a perfect mix of them, not just one or the other. Even though you were angry at them for a million reasons even they couldn’t control, you still missed them every day. And Martha treating you as her personal servant really didn’t make you feel any better.

And even now, she still treated you the same way. After your abusive boyfriend finally left you for some other girl, you had no other choice than to live with your aunt again. It was either that or live on the streets. Though, it wasn't practical, the streets were tempting.

You just left in the middle of an argument, something you never even dreamed of doing. You had asked her what your Mother was like growing up. You thought that after all these years she would've calmed down and treat you like a human. Like family. But no.

She immediately started screaming at you, calling you ungrateful because she raised you, not her. Then argument turned into a rant about how she hated your Mother. It was obvious that she was jealous of her, though you didn't understand why.

After enduring her screams and name calling for the next twenty minutes, you decided to get up and leave. She starting screaming after you, demanding that you come back and talk to her. But you didn't listen. You just wanted to hide in your room for as long as you could.

Though, the only place you could ever truly hide from her was in your dreams. And even they were infested with her hatred most of the time. You were spiraling deeper into the darkness every time the day reset and continued your circle of hell.

That was, until he showed up in your dreams.

Nothing ever broke your cycle. Your living hell was the same everyday: Cook, clean, school, work, serve your Aunt, and repeat. Even in your dreams. No new faces ever appeared. Until now.

Your dream was a slightly different version than the one before it. You had been running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, trying to make Martha's every wish come true so that maybe, maybe you could get a break.

As you were running to get the coat she had asked for, you slammed into what felt like a brick wall. But when you looked up, you were met with the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Ones that weren't familiar. Then their owner spoke.

"Oh, goodness! Are you alright?" He asked as he reached down and grabbed ahold of your arm, lifting you up with ease. "I'm so sorry about that, love, I wasn't looking where I was going."

You found it kinda funny how just one stranger could scatter your brain this much. It was like he'd gone into your head and pulled out any knowledge of how to speak. You brought your hand to your head, trying to sooth your growing headache.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I was the one not looking where I was going. Are you okay?" You were amazed that you managed to form a reply, but you hoped you could keep this up. When you looked back at the stranger, your eyes reunited with his. Chills ran throughout your body, a feeling that was again, unfamiliar.

"Oh, no, I'm alright. No injuries here." He said with a somewhat nervous laugh, his eyes darting from you to random areas of the room. Why is he nervous? That was when you looked down and noticed how you were still gripping his forearms for support, which you didn't really need anymore.

"Oh! Right, sorry, again." You quickly released his arms, trying not to acknowledge the small, red crescents on his arms from your nails. "Sorry, but have I seen you be-"

That's when the ground began to shake, followed by a scream that could only be described as savage. You had broken Martha's rule. Don't talk to strangers. And now she was coming for you. Her vicious grin glued to the backs of your eyelids.

Your body was in its usual state of panic when you woke up, which was usually followed by some kind of muffled scream or gasp. But you didn't scream this morning, too focused on trying to figure out who that man was..

-

For the next month, you would wake up and search your memories for the beautiful stranger, but you were always met with disappointment. You began to feel foolish, asking yourself how you could be so stupid.

Tonight, Martha was at her book club meeting, discussing the newest Stephen King book. You never did understand how she could read those things and not walk away even a little bit queasy. Makes sense, monsters love other monsters. You silently hoped Stephen King would write a book on your Aunt, now that would be a best seller.

With your Aunt gone, you had some uninterupted time to yourself, meaning that you could finally read the book you found at the library last week. You weren't allowed to have things like books or computers, unless they were for school. And even those were used with supervision.

But the librarian seemed to understand your situation with just the way you smiled at her. She let you take the book home after making you promise to take it back in three weeks.

You really didn't know why you were drawn to the book so much. It wasn't even the book you wanted; Romeo and Juliet, by the way. No, this was a book about lucid dreaming, something you've never heard of before.

Once you opened the book and read the first chapter, you couldn't stop. This was the key to getting him back. You could see him again and you wouldn't let him go, you knew that for sure.

You quickly hid the book back under your dresser and jumped into your bed, willing yourself to go to sleep. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you were finally able to relax enough to fall asleep.

-

When you opened your eyes you were in a room filled with absolutely nothing but darkness. Limbo. You remembered reading about this place in the book; this was the place where your imagination was supposed to roam free.

So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and let the thoughts come in. The first thing that came to mind was your childhood home. The little brown house in the suburbs that always glowed with the orange leaves in the Fall. You could almost smell the sweet rot of the yellow and orange leaves, mixed with the chilly Autumn breeze.

And when you opened your eyes, you saw exactly that. The same small, brown house surrounded by the season's fallen leaves. You didn't waste even a moment, you jumped up the front steps, taking two at a time.

You flung the door open, letting it hit the wall behind you. "Hello? Is anyone home?" You called out, the anxiety creating a tight knot in your stomach as you slowly made your way through the house.

"Love?" You heard a man call out. It was him. The man from before. In your peripheral vision you could see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen, drying his hands with the familiar live, laugh, love towel your Mom loved.

"You're here?" You asked, not meaning for it to sound like a question.

"If course I'm here where else would I be?" He walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Are you alright? You seem a bit off."

"I-" But before you could speak, there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, must be the mail. Will you grab it for me love?" He started walking back into the kitchen, tossing the towel on the nearest surface. "Dinner's almost done by the way!"

You stared at the now empty space in front of you. It's Sunday and it's already -you glanced at the nearest clock- six o'clock. Why would we have mail? You thought as you walked over to the door to grab the mail off of the floor.

The majority of it was either junk mail or for you, but the last one was addressed to him. To Steven Grant.

"Love?"

Then you woke up.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Invisible Pain ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 1,860ish

Summary: You struggle shopping for a dress.

Notes: this is Part 2 to my other story Invisible Pain. Please read it before reading this. This is based on an experience I had last week. I literally had a panic attack in the dressing room.

“Are you getting a new dress for Tony’s party on Friday?” Natasha asked as you and her finished working out together.

“I don’t know,” you responded. “You?”

“Yeah. Want to go together later?”

“Sounds great.”

It had been a few months since the team found out about your rheumatoid arthritis. They had all been extremely supportive and caring, as well as overprotective. It took you tattling to Fury to get Tony and Steve to let you train again. Not to mention Bruce’s constant check ups and blood tests. Tony had even upgraded your watch to make it easier on himself and Bruce to track everything.

During the time since your illness came out, you and Tony had also become an official couple. To no one’s real surprise. He was so sweet and understanding about your illness, and had truly read everything he could on the subject. You in turn were caring and understanding about his struggles with PTSD, like you had been when you were friends.

“Hey honey,” Tony greeted coming into your shared room as you were trying to get undressed. “Need help?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You mind helping me undress? I’m struggling to get my shirt off.”

“Sure thing.” Tony came over and began taking your shirt off. “Are your shoulders bugging you today?”

“Yeah. I tried not to use them too much in training today, but I couldn’t help it.”

Tony shook it head slightly and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You need to be more careful.”

“It’s just my shoulders today, Tony. And I took some meds before you came it. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed as he finished taking your shirt off for you, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Do you need help in the shower?”

“I’ll be fine, Tony.” 

“You sure? Cause I can be of some help.”

“Maybe tonight.” You leaned in and gave him a small kiss. “I have to hurry so I can meet up with Nat. We’re going dress shopping for the party on Friday.”

“Oh? Need help?”

“Nope.”

“Will you send me a picture?”

“I’d rather not. I’m trying to see how speechless I can leave the great billionaire, playboy.” You walked into the bathroom with a wink, shutting the door behind you.

~~~

“How about this one?” Natasha wondered, holding up a dress.

“Sure, why not?” You replied, adding the dress to the growing pile in your arms. With your shoulders already aching, the rest of your arms were slowly following. “I think that I’m ready to go try them on now. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold all these.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the fitting rooms. I’m just going to take one more look around before I start trying some on.”

You nodded before heading to the fitting room. Entering one, you laid the dresses out of the bench along the wall. You locked the door before trying to undress yourself. You sucked in a breath and winced as your shoulders screamed at you to not take your shirt off. Biting down on your bottom lip, you pulled your shirt over your head anyway. 

Slightly panting in relief, your head feel back and your eyes closes. You were trying to mentally cope with the pain. Taking another deep breath in, and slowly letting it out, you looked down at the dress on top. You lifted it so that you could see the back, revealing a long zipper. You sighed, upset at yourself for not noticing it sooner.

Because of your arthritis, you were unable to reach your back. So you wouldn’t be able to zip up the dress. You lifted it up and looked it over, sighing once again. The dress wouldn’t be able to be slipped over your head either. Putting the dress to the side, you began going over the other dresses in the pile, finding the same issue with them as well. Leaning back against the wall, you slid down it and buried your face in your hands. Why couldn’t you like a dress with a zipper on the side? Or, the bigger question, why do you have to have arthritis? 

You began to silently cry and panic slightly. How were you ever going to get a dress and surprise Tony? How were you ever going to be able to go dress shopping alone? There was a slight buzz on your wrist and you knew FRIDAY was sending information on your condition to Bruce and Tony, but you didn’t care at the moment. 

You don’t know how long you were sitting on the floor like that before you were interrupted.

“Hey, in there,” Natasha called, knocking on the locked door. “How’s it going?”

“Umm, it’s fine,” you replied, not sounding very convincing.

“Yeah? Find anything yet?”

“Not yet… uh, nothing’s fitting or looking good.”

“Really? Why don’t you show me? Maybe your mind is deceiving you.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’m good. I think I’m just going to get dressed and go home. I’ll just wear something I already have.”

“Are you sure? I can go grab someth—“

“I’m good, Nat. Really. If you found something, go buy it and I’ll meet you out front.”

“…Okay. Meet you out front.”

~~~

It was painful getting your clothes back on. You could tell that Natasha knew that something was wrong, but wasn’t willing to push you about it. You went straight to your room, locking yourself in the connecting bathroom. You quickly swallowed down some medicine before putting some arthritis rub on your shoulders. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to touch your hands together behind your back. On hand was going over a shoulder, the other was trying from the lower part of your back. Checking in the mirror, you could see that there was about 5 inches separating your hands from meeting. Tears trickled down your cheeks as you tried to push yourself to make them meet. 

“Honey?” Tony’s voice came from the other side of the door, with a slight knock. “Are you okay? FRIDAY’s sending Bruce and I some readings.” Instead of answering, you just let out a strangled sob. “Sweetheart? I’m coming in, okay?” FRIDAY unlocked the door and Tony quickly came in and pulled you into his arms. “What’s going on?”

“I—I can’t—I couldn’t—“

“Hold on, honey, you’re panicking.” He lifted you up so that you were sitting on the counter, and he cupped your face. “Just breathe, Y/N. Just breathe. I’m right here. And when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I couldn’t find a dress.”

“Okay, that’s fine. You can wear something you already have.”

“No.” You shook your head slightly. “I couldn’t find a dress I could put on myself.”

“Oh.” Tony nodded, finally understanding.

“And I just wanted to look nice and surprise you.”

“Honey, you always look nice. Even when you’re dusty and have blood on you after a fight, you’re always the most beautiful person to me.”

“I just wanted to surprise you and I can’t even dress myself!” You slammed a fist against the counter.

“Woah! Honey!” He quickly grabbed your hand and pressed small kisses to it. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Why does it matter? I’m useless anyway, or I will be, sooner than we all want to admit.”

“Stop right there!” Tony held your face so that you had to look at him. “You are not useless, nor will you ever be. Yes, you have your struggles. But you are a fighter and have proven that you aren’t one to give up. Why now?”

“I’m just so tired of it, Tony… I just want to not feel this way anymore… I want to be able to dress myself and not have my joints screaming in pain every time I move. I want to be able to have sex with you and be able to enjoy every single second of it… I want to consider the possibility of maybe having kids, without my joints telling me no… I want to be normal.”

Tony chuckled, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. “Honey, there is no such thing as normal. And that is okay. It hurts me to know that you are struggling through all this and that there is so little I can do. But, I will be by your side through whatever you need. You need me to brush your hair and wash your body? I’m there. You need me to make the bed or help you dress? I’m there. You need me to do all the work during sex? I got you. I am here for you, even when the time comes that you may be wheelchair bound. I am not leaving and Bruce and I will not stop trying to find something that eases your pain.”

“I love you, Tony.”

“Love you too.” He pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Now, how about we go dress shopping again and you let me enjoy helping you into a dress, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

Dress shopping with Tony was actually enjoyable. It helped that he was treating you like a queen the whole time. He helped you into each dress, occasionally pressing gentle kisses onto your exposed skin. He praised you in each dress, telling you how gorgeous you looked but that it was up to you whether or not you got the dress. None of the dresses though were calling to you, which wasn’t making you feel much better. 

“I have one more idea,” Tony said after you had just said no to the last dress in your fitting room. He quickly unzipped you. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushed out of the small room, leaving you confused. You cringed at you got out of the dress and put it back on the hanger. Hugging your mid section, you stood there, nervously waiting for Tony to return. When he did, he came back with a dress that wasn’t exactly on your list of choices.

“Tony, I don’t know,” you told him, shaking your head a little. 

“I know it’s usually not your style, but could you just try it on. For me?” 

He knew very well that you had a hard time saying no when he used his big brown eyes and asked like that. 

You sighed, “Fine.”

Tony was way too excited to get you into that dress. You let him, just wanting to make him happy, as he was just trying to do with you. You tried not look in the mirror at all as Tony helped you into the dress. 

“Done,” he said softly after getting you all zipped up.

You took a deep breath and finally examined yourself in the mirror. You were shocked. Yes, you would have never picked this dress out for yourself, but it was perfect. You looked at Tony in the mirror, who was silent.

“It’s perfect, Tony,” you said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. He smirked as he made eye contact with you in the mirror.

“No,” he responded at the same volume. “You’re perfect.”

Notes: Again, every experiences arthritis differently. This is just a sample on how I feel it. Thank you for reading and your support! If you enjoyed this please check out these:

My Superhero - Steve Rogers x Reader

Purple - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here’s a sneak peak of more of my work to come:

2 - Out Of Time: Morgan Stark x Mom!Reader x Dad!Tony Stark

3 - Avengers x Teen!Reader

4 - Out Of Time: Uncle!Steve Rogers x Niece!Morgan Stark

5 - Tony Stark x Reader

6 - Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

7 - Sam Wilson x Reader

8 - Bucky Barnes x Patella Alta!Reader

9 - Tony Stark x Autistic!Reader

10 - Tony Stark x Reader

I also have more arthritis/autoimmune disease fics to come as well. So follow me to read more!

[onlyonekenobi]

A little 1k deancas wedding ficlet from the lovely @seraphlm ‘s prompt “special occasion shoes” And what better time to upload than this, the day of their wedding!! read on ao3

Dean stared at himself in the dusty little floor-length mirror that Ellen had drudged up for the occasion. As he turned to inspect his shirt for wrinkles, he had to admit it: he looked pretty good.

Having decided against wearing his suit jacket (“I bought that at a thrift mart so I could wear it around and lie to people. It’s got no business at my wedding.”) he was dressed down in just a white button up, slacks, and a forest green tie, which had been purchased new last week. (“To bring out your eyes,” Cas had smiled so sweetly, handing it over at the store.)

The look was simple, but effective, and now there was just one thing missing.

“Sammy?” he called, not breaking eye contact with himself in the glass.

“Yeah?” Sam called back, popping his head around the back corner of the room.

“Where’s my boots?”

Sam’s mouth fell into the hard line it took on when he was trying to make a split second decision between lie and avoid.

“Boots?” he repeated, a pitch-up in his voice. “You came here in your boots, but why would you need those n-”

“-not my work boots, Sammy,” Dean cut him off. If he wanted to avoid, Dean could at least make it difficult. “My boots.”

He could practically hear Sam swallow; glancing up in the mirror, he could absolutely see the panic in Sam’s eyes.

“Oh. Uh. Right. Yeah, your boots. Uh-”

“Sammy.”

“Okay, yeah, um. I thought… it’s just, I thought we agreed… that you were gonna wear your dress shoes?”

“My fed shoes?” Dean snapped back, finally turning around “Hell, no! That’s why I ain’t wearing the jacket.”

“They’re just shoes, Dean,” Sam practically begged. “And it’s your wedding-”

Dean cut him off there, sensing Sam rev up to argue a mile a minute. He didn’t have time for that today.

“Exactly, Sammy. It’s my wedding. I can wear whatever I want, and I want my cowboy boots!”

Sam’s mouth thinned into another line, his shoulders and chest full of an almost comical amount of tension. A beat passed before he said, “Okay. Fine, I’ll go grab them.”

Dean sighed and turned back to the mirror, trying to artfully muss his hair as he heard Sam leave. It was almost perfect when a soft knock fell against the door.

“Dean?”

He whipped around, chest rapidly filling with the warm feeling of static.

“Cas?”

“Sam came out here looking for Claire. He seems to be hoping she’ll take his side in some debate about your attire.”

Dean considered that. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to tell us we’re both wrong.” He could almost hear Cas smiling in response.

“Well,” he heard from Cas’s disembodied voice, “I just snuck over here to tell you that I’m barefoot.”

Dean blinked. “You’re barefoot?”

“Mhmm,” Cas chirped. “You know how I like to be barefoot so I can feel the ground?”

“‘Course,” Dean grinned. “And how’s this carpet treating you?”

“Very well, thank you,” Cas smiled into the door, his head leaned up against it. “But I like it because it makes me feel connected to my surroundings- more like me. And I wanted to feel that way when I married you.”

Hearing those words caused a pleasant hitch in Dean’s breath. They were about to get married. Like, married married.

“I love you,” he said, before he even really realized what he was doing.

A little scuff sound came through the door as Cas tilted his head up along it. “I love you,” he laughed, sounding pleasantly surprised at the sudden change of subject.

Dean felt his ears burn as he joked back, “Well, guess it’s good we got that settled. But, uh, yeah, I wanted to wear my cowboy boots. For kind of the same reason.” He paused for just a moment, but Cas stayed silent, letting him continue. “They’re nice, ya know? But in a- in a me way. Sam wants me to wear my fed shoes. But everything about those is fake. And I wanna just be me right now. For… for you. For us. You know? This is for us.”

“It is for us,” Cas smiled. “And I think you’ll look especially handsome in your boots. Of course,” he tilted his head again, “you would look handsome in anything. Or nothing.” (Dean blushed deeper.) “But yes, I think you’ll look very nice in- oh-”

A muffled voice cut Cas off. Dean heard something like laughter, followed by a whispered “Thank you” and a distinct chuckle from Cas.

“Cas, buddy?” Dean tried. Yet another chuckle answered him.

“It seems Sam made the mistake of telling Claire where he was hiding your shoes. Here-” he whispered conspiratorially, carefully opening the door just a crack. There, in the tiny space, appeared Dean’s treasured cowboy boots.

A broad grin swept over his face as he grabbed his shoes with one and caught Cas’s fingers in the other. “Heh, thanks,” he laughed quietly. Cas squeezed his hand in answer, and for a moment, they just stayed like that.

It was Cas’s soft voice that eventually broke the silence with a “Well,” and Dean could tell, somehow, that he was grinning at the floor. “I guess I’ll see you out there.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, his whole chest fit to burst. “See you real soon, sunshine.”

“I love you.”

Leaning down so as not to pull Cas into view, Dean brushed his lips across his fiancee’s knuckles and let them linger there. He didn’t know this, but Cas had brought his free hand up to rest on the door, as though he could hold Dean’s face through the wood.

Tears were starting in Dean’s eyes, and though he tried to wipe them away, they fell in earnest. He didn’t know this either, but he would be crying again in about twenty minutes (and that time around, Cas would be able reach up and cradle Dean’s cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb; Claire would immortalize this moment in a photograph, which now sits on their mantle).

“Always,” he answered, and he slipped on his shoes, more ready than ever.

[raewritez]

Still

based on this request: I’m thirsty for a love triangle. Maybe Sokka and Zuko fighting for the reader’s affection. And she chooses ____!

warnings: one swear word right there ⬇️, aangst, simping

It fucking hurt.

Sure, Sokka knew Zuko was good now, and he knew that the two of you had history. But he couldn't have prepared himself for the ache that took place in his chest whenever you would choose to sit by Zuko around the campfire, when you would tease him in that playful tone of yours, when you would smile at him and it seemed like the sun beamed a bit brighter. It hurt because Sokka didn't get that anymore. Or maybe he did, but he was too blinded by jealousy to process the fact that you cared about both of them. In Sokka's mind, your gaze was always on Zuko, on his stupid fluffy hair and his oh-so-perfect stupid face. Your hand was always somewhere on him; on his arm, around his shoulder, on his face when you healed the cuts that resulted from your latest skirmish. He could only clench his jaw, standing and storming off to where he could be alone with his misery. He'd feel your eyes on him as he walked away, probably widened in confusion and your head probably tilted in that stupid, adorable way that made Sokka's heart melt every time. But he'd continue, not sparing you a glance. It's not like you cared, anyway.

You did care.

What was his problem? Things hadn't been this tense between you and Sokka since you first met, since he labeled you as the enemy and scoured you with his glares. But that was months ago. You weren't used to this standoffishness, not used to the way he'd turn on you and leave you in the dust. No, you were used to Sokka, your Sokka. The one that held you when you cried when the Earth Kingdom fell and Zuko sided with his sister, the one that teased you mercilessly with that lopsided grin of his, the one that raced you to the top of mulberry trees to see who could get the best fruit. The one that came to you when his mind was racing, face nuzzled into your neck as your fingers pulled his hair loose from his wolf-tail. That was your Sokka, not the stranger that walked away from you now.

Your concerned gaze was broken by a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Hey, you ok?"

You forced a smile, turning to Zuko. "I'm fine. Just tired. Your story put me to sleep."

He scoffed, bumping you and turning away to hide his grin. "Well, it's actually my Uncle's story. You can blame him."

"I'm sure I'd be more interested if Iroh was telling it," you grinned. "Maybe you're just a bad storyteller."

"I'm a great storyteller. You're just a bad listener."

"Mhm. Sure."

He let out a breathy chuckle, eyes darting to your face. Spirits, he'd missed you. This is what he'd longed for those three years; this closeness. Memories of his childhood ran through his mind - memories of playtime and friendship, of two best friends who had nothing to fear but curfews and monsters under the bed. Zuko had fought and struggled, had chosen right and chosen wrong, but all those choices had led him here. Back to you. And now, his body lit aflame by your touch and his heart skipping by the song of your laughter, he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.

He was thrilled to have you back, but it was different. Before, in the painted halls of the Firenation palace and under the maroon quilts of his mother's bed, he'd had you all to himself. Now, he had to share. It was strange, seeing you laugh so boisterously with Toph or hug Aang so closely, seeing you walk arm in arm with Katara as you went into town for groceries. He was in much better standing with the group now - he knew he was forgiven for his mistakes and was welcome to share in the friendship they so generously provided. He was overwhelmingly grateful, but he cherished the moments he spent with you. And they'd have been better, if not for the other boy in the group.

Zuko had no problem with Sokka. Quite the contrary, he admired him for his leadership and laughed at his jokes, and the time he spent with him was something he enjoyed. But he envied him. Zuko saw the way the Water Tribe boy looked at you; like you were the sun itself and had put all the stars in the sky just for him. He saw the fondness in the other boy's eyes when you spoke, saw the comfortability in his movements as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He had to remind himself that the two of you were close - that you'd spent months traveling together while he chased you all over the world. He'd guessed you would be close, but it seemed he'd underestimated the power of your love for your friends and this boy. Because you were brighter when he was around, eyes flickering to him as if on instinct whenever he arrived at the campsite. Your eyes grew tender and your voice soft, and Sokka's affection mirrored your own.

Your eyes locked on his, and he felt like he could drown in them forever. Your lips curved into a grin, and his worries and insecurities were washed away as quickly as they came. You stood up, offering him your hand. "Come on, let's get ready for bed."

He took it eagerly, smiling up at you in a way that made your heart warm. You reached up to ruffle his hair, skipping away and laughing at his indignant "Hey!" before he caught up to you and flicked your forehead. You swatted his hand away, glaring up at him. He only smirked before walking ahead of you.

You grabbed your bedroll, laying it out on the dusty ground. Zuko laid his close by. After putting out the fire and bidding goodnight to your friends, casting a sad look to Sokka's figure which sat idly upon the cliffside, you made your way inside and shut your eyes, Zuko not far behind.

///

Yep. Sokka was annoyed. He thought going for a walk would clear his mind, maybe preoccupy his thoughts with something other than you, but he guesses he was wrong. It was impossible when he could hear your laughter all the way from camp, no doubt directed towards the Firebender. He swallowed roughly, picking up his pace. He couldn't stand it; you and him. Sokka had no problem with Zuko. They were friends! Well, pretty much. Zuko had proved himself to be loyal, and there was no reason for him not to be trusted. He was cool - a little awkward albeit, but hey, Sokka can understand where that would come from after spending three years as an isolated, ponytail-wearing, Avatar-obsessed banished prince. He had no problem with Zuko, really. He guessed that he just...missed you.

Katara said he was jealous, something he promptly waved away, dismissing her with a wave. She'd rolled her eyes and called after him, "You can't ignore it forever, Sokka!" Ok, whatever Katara.

He was not jealous. He didn't care about the time you spent with the fire bender, or the way you seemed happier now that he was around. He didn't care that he hadn't talked to you in two days, and he definitely didn't care that your sleeping bag was sidled up cozily next to Zuko's.

"I'm so stupid," he muttered, lowering himself to the ground. He swung his legs over the cliff, feet dangling in the air. He turned his head, catching glimpse of the dying embers in the campfire, Toph's rock tent and Katara and Aang's sleeping figures, and you, asleep with your arms stretched in Zuko's direction. He held his head in his hands, sighing frustratedly. Yeah, maybe he was a little jealous. But really, why wouldn't he be? He used to sleep next to you, he was the one who made you laugh and woke you up in the middle of the night to sneak a ride on Appa. Now what? It'd been days since the two of you had a real conversation, so different from the constant chattering and jokes that had made his time saving the world so much more bearable. He missed you. So, so much. Spirits, what he would give for a day with you, the ones like you used to have. Where you would do whatever you wanted and usually end up scolded by Katara, but those were the days that made him forget the war and the reality of his unfortunate circumstances, when his heart was light and his worries quenched.

Those days meant everything to him, but he was afraid they were expendable. Because now you spent them with Zuko without so much as a glance his way. Sure, it wasn't like he was making much an effort, but still. You'd told him about Zuko; about the friend you'd lost to banishment who'd come out like his father. He'd thought you were crazy when you said with such conviction that he still had some good in him, but had comforted you nonetheless. He sat with you in his arms and told you the story of the time he got beat up by a penguin back home. He felt proud when he made you laugh.

You meant everything to him, but maybe it was different for you. He knew you loved him, although maybe not in the way he was beginning to question his own love as being, but he knew you loved him. You made sure he knew; in your smiles, in your words, in your touch. But he also knew you loved everyone else - the way you talked with his sister and softened her edges, allowing her to rest from the motherly role she put herself in and taking her under your arm instead. The way Toph latched onto you, teasing you with utter fondness and accepting your help without resistance. The absolute adoration that Aang held for you - resting his head on your shoulder and coming to you with his troubles, always searching for your guidance in his trials and relying on your strength and unwavering faith in him.

But it seemed different with Zuko. With him you were unbearably gentle, reassuring him of his value and rekindling the lost friendship of children ripped apart. It was obvious to everyone; the pure affection you held for this boy. It was obvious to Sokka, and, spirits, it stung. Because had you ever looked at him like that? Had he ever made you laugh as loudly as you did for Zuko, who was seemingly not even trying? He didn't know and it ate away at him, clawing at his chest and leaving it burning. Maybe he was in too deep now, too lost in love and bitterness to see the olive branches you offered him and the way your eyes darkened when he turned them away. It was fine. He was perfectly fine and would continue to be fine, even as Zuko's hand reached out for yours. Even as he felt you slipping away, even as he was alone. So terribly, painfully alone.

———-

part two?👀

[its5amgotosleep]

Hickeys and shattered hearts / Maria Hill x Stark!reader / Natasha x Stark!reader

A/N:This one's kinda sad but also kinda cute idk

Warning: Light angst, cursing ofc.

дорогой - Sweetheart

---------------------🕸🕷----------------------

You were new to the Avenfers despite being Tony Starks sister. They didn't know he had a sister because he never told them per your request. And only introduced yourself during the battle of New York showing up in an iron suit.

Although you had already worked for Shield even before Tony did as an agent. You helped him build some of his suits, even made your own

Tony and you were slightly different from each other with you being more on the nicer and sweeter side but still had his wit and sass.

You got along with the rest of them team really well, especially with a certain red headed assassin. Natasha had gotten to like you a lot after a few years of being colleagues, though was a complete wreck at asking you out.

Now you and the Avengers are in Sokovia battling with Ultron and his iron legion alongside new additions. Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.

"So when do you think help is on the way." You blasted through the robots that were lined up. "Any minute now cavalry."

"I didn't say we should leave.." You hear Natasha as you land to the ground. "There's worse ways to go." She finishes, you open your mask to breath a little better. "This isn't exactly how I planned mine to be." You said taking a few deep breaths.

"Where else am I gonna get a view like this." She motioned about the floating country. "Only once in a lifetime." You try to see through the smoke.

"I hope you like the view Romanoff. It's about to get better." Fury says through the coms as the helicarrier emerges up from the clouds and smoke. "Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty but she'll do."

"Fury you son of a bitch." You and Steve say as you looked in awe at the flying ship. "Oh, you two kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I wouldn't really call her my mother, but yes I do kiss her with my mouth." You grinned as mask closed again ready for the second wave. Nat didn't know you were in a relatiowith someone only till a few weeks ago.

You were searching up on new technology to improve you and you brothers suits. Recently discovering about Nanotechnology, after days of research you've only managed to create a protoype for only the helmet.

You heard the door knock and said out a come in. "Hey, Y/N have you seen Bruce?" Natasha came in as you still had on the mask thst only reached the bottom of your neck.

"No sorry, haven't seen him since like an hour ago. Maybe he's in his room I guess." You shrugged as the mask slowly disappeared like it was dissolving from your face.

"Whoah how'd you do that you fuckin wizard or something." Nat looked at you surprised. "Cool right?" You grinned at her as you put the tech on a mannequin.

"I'll go find him, sorry to bother you." She smiled a little. "Yeah no problem." You focused on the computer. She was nearly out of the room when she noticed a bruise on the side of your neck.

Once you turned around a little it showed more purple and red spots on your neck. "Y/N.." She trailed as you looked up at her. "Yeah?"

"What happened to." She motioned to her neck and you looked at her in confusion. "Huh? Why? Is there something wrong?" You asked still confused.

"Look at the mirror." Her tone laced with a hint of jealously. "I don't what's- Oh!" You cut off your own sentence when you saw you reflection in the mirror. Red and purple marks scattered on your neck.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry you had to see that!" Shrieking you activated the mask again hide them and your embarrassed face.

You hit your head on palm of your habd a few times chanting to yourself that you were stupid to not notice. "Look, it's ok, I've seen worse. Do you want me to help you with it?" Nat brushed of the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"No no, I don't want to take away more time from you. I can just cover this up with some make up." The front of the mask opened as you had a sorry smile for her. But Natasha wanted to stay longer, she wanted to stay with you.

"Ok just, just call me if you need anything." She said as you let out a final apology and a thank you. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, please call Agent Hill immediately please." You command the A.I thingking that the ex russian spy was gone.

"What is it Stark? Somethibg happened?" Maria said from the other line. Natasha hid behind a wall to eavesdrop, yes it was wrong, but she just wanted an answer to her question.

"Don't Stark me Hill, you know what exactly happened." You spat before sending a photo to her. "I can't believe you didn't tell me before I left!" You sighed running a hand through your hair.

"I don't get what- Oh, Oh!" Maria stopped midway when she saw the photo you sent. "Well you didn't exactly say anything when we were-" "Don't you dare finish that sentence Hill or I will slap you across the face." You threatened through gritted teeth.

Natasha left not needing and not wanting to hear your conversation. She only asked for Bruce to have an excuse to see you.

Now she's left to go to the gym to blow off some steam and to avoid her heart from shattering entirely.

"I think I know who you're talking about. You two together the whole night at the party right?" Clint said as he smirked at you as you flew past him.

"You're seeing someone and you didn't tell me? I feel betrayed- I am betrayed." Tony sounded genuinely upset over the fact that Clint new and not him.

"We agreed not to tell anyone, and that anyone including you brother." You said matter of factly.

You saw Clint rushing behind a rock with a little boy trying to get to cover from the iron legion who were about to rain bullets on them.

Also noticing a blue and silver trail speeding towards them, you land right infront of Pietro and Clint shielding the three from the bullets, after they were done it was your turn to start beaming at them.

"What you didn't see that coming?" Opening the front of your mask to smirk at Pietro who looked at you like you were crazy.

"After this Fury, I'm gonna take a break. I've seen enough robots for the year. Person I am seeing you owe me a date." You say taking down a few more robots.

"I am going to pretend I didn't see her nod her head and smile. Stark you two have sone explaining to do before any dates will happen." Fury eyed Maria giving the 'Really? You two?' look.

The three of you got on to one of the ships to the helicarrier. "I'm sorry for what's about to happen." You apologetically glance at Pietro about Sokovia.

"Not exactly the way I wanted my chapter to end, but I guess it's something. This is where my family was made, this was also where it was destroyed, and where my twin and I made into well.. Whatever we are." His thick accent following through every word..

After the battle with Ultron, the civilians were given the help that they needed. "Having fun staring at the wall? It's an interesting wall don't get me wrong." You smiled as you walked towards Natasha.

"What'd you call me for? You need help finding Bruce again?" You asl as she shook her head turning to fully look at you.

"Not really, I just wanted to tell you something." Nat looked nervous which surprised you for the very first time. "It's about you."

"Me?" You pointed to yourself. "I- jesus christ this is harder than I thought." Nat let out a heavy sigh as you put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey its ok, take your time." You reassured her.

"I like you." She knew that you knew what it meant and was expecting to take your hand of her shoulder but you didn't. "I'm sorry Nat I really am, you're an amazing person."

"I know you can't, that's why I'm telling you this to let it out of my chest." Sadness was evident in her tone but she had to accept the fact the you can't love her back.

"I'll go beat up Hill if she hurts you." Nat joked as you pushed her shouler lightly. "We still friends?" You mumble as you pulled her to a hug.

She reciprocated by wrapping her arms around you. "Always." She said against your shoulder. "I better not find you downing a bottle of vodka later." You threatened as she just chuckled.

"I'll try not to." She says as you pulled away from the hug to glare at her. "No promises дорогой." She playfully smirked at you.

Natasha swore to herself to be there for you until the end. Not as lovers but as friends. Always and forever

Natasha left with Steve because they were evaluating the new recuits for the Avengers, she asked you if you wanted to come with her but you declined saying you were gonna meet with someone.

"Hey.." Maria said as she leaned against a wall seeing you walk down the halls. "Hi, were you waiting for me?" You ask as you walked closer to the Agent.

"No I wasn't." She simply replied as she looked at you and smiled "Really? Cause you looked like you were waiting for me." You raised a brow at her staring at hers, cold blue eyes thst somehow radiated warmth whenever she looked at you.

"Maybe I was maybe I wasn't." She smirked at you causing you to roll your eyes by her answer. "What were you doing before going here?" She asked as you two walked together.

"Oh I jusst rejected someone." You sighed rethingking what happened earlier. "Was it Natasha?" Maria says non chalanty.

You looked at her with a 'how the fuck.' face. "How the fuck did you know?" Your eyes wide as they can be. "I've known for a while know. At first I was worried about it."

"Oh yeah? Why so?" "Because I love you and you love me, simple as that." She gave a quick peck before walking ahead of your blushing face.

"Atleast kiss me properly Agent." You caught up to her and pulled her down for a proper kiss, instinctively placing her hand on your waist.

You pulled away as Maria was about to deepen in. "Although I'd love to but I only said for a proper kiss." Now it was your turn to give her quick peck before walking ahead of her.

"This so very cringey but also so cute at the same time." Coulson solighed as he saw the whole thing happen.

-----------------------🦅🕴️--------------------

[pixie88]

G'day!!

I'm in a prompt-y mood!

We all know Nina loves the good stuff 🍺, but what if Ellie was the one who gets wasted? Maybe she tries to give Adam a show? 😜😈🥳

Nellie

Chapter 6 - Yours Truly.

A/N | Hey @aussieez so you asked for it and here it is (FINALLY)! When I got this ask I thought yay! Nina, then I thought "oooh I could bring Nina into YT!" Hence why this ask has turned into a chapter rather than just an ask. Please don't hate me for this! I have kept away from the plot of the story for those who aren't up to date.

A/N 2 | This also includes @aussieez other ask “Nina, pissed as a fart and tries to say "she sells seashells by the sea shore" because, well ... why TF not? 🤣”

Comments & reblogs welcome! Let me know what you loved and hated about this chapter!

I understand if you don’t want to be tagged so just pop me a message to be removed, but also let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Summary | Nina and Ellie have a drunk night on the town.

Check out previous chapters here  - HERE.

Wattpad | Here.

Word count | 1.9k

Warnings | 18 + Only! Angst, Fluff & NSFW.

Pairings | Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy!

With all the stress of the last few weeks Nina had arranged a night out for her and Ellie, getting into the full swing of things she's had a few glasses of wine making her a little tipsy. She's looking through her wardrobe for something to wear when Adam walks into their bedroom, she looks over her shoulder at him. His eyes roam over l her body, black stockings and lacy lingerie "see something you like?" he smirks before wandering over to her.

He wraps his arms around her, his chest presses into her back. His lips pepper along her pulse line sending every nerve ending on edge, "Ah, ah, ah!" she dances out of his grasp "I need to get ready!" she pulls out a dusty pink dress from the hanger, placing it on the bed before checking over her makeup in the dresser mirror.

Bending over so her arse is in his direction as she straightens up again her fingers slip under the lace against her cheeks stretching fabric before it pings back against her skin. She heard him groan, smiling mischievously, she turns towards him "something wrong?" she bit her bottom lip, "I'm just admiring my beautiful wife!" he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Admiring? Is all you want to do?" she teases him, grabbing a pair of heels from the wardrobe she steps between his legs, he looks up at her "I think you already know the answer to that!" she turns and sits on his lap bending to pull on her shoes making her cheeks rub against his crotch.

A growl catches in his throat, she leans back onto him, "Fuck, Ellie!" he whispers against the shell of her ear. She takes his hand and glides it along the inside of her thigh as he reaches her apex, his fingers slip under the lace, she stops him and replaces his finger with hers. "Ell?"

"If you touch me, I'll never leave this room on time!" she turns to straddle him, looking into his eyes as works her fingers against her core, he captures her lips. She can barely catch her breath, pulling away, she smirks "I want you to watch me!" he looks down, he can feel his own arousal begging to be released. She moans as she gets closer to her high, "scream my name, beautiful!"

She falls "God, Adam! Yes!" she pants as she comes down from her high. She smiles seeing him all flustered, climbing off his lap, he takes a deep breath. Leaning down, she presses her lips to his before pulling away, "I better get dressed!" she winks.

Pulling on the blush pink dress "Do you think this will be ok?" she looks herself over in the mirror one last time. He appears behind her "Stunning as always!" he wraps his arms around her and rests his head on her shoulder "Kids asleep?" she asks resting her hand over his.

"Yep, they went straight off. I think Mum and Dad shattered them!" He places a kiss against her neck "I hope you have fun tonight!" he reaches his back pocket, pulls out his wallet before pulling out a note and placing into her bra, "Adam are you tipping me?" she jokes.

"I just want to make sure you have a good time tonight!" he winks at her in the mirror.

An hour later...

"I can't believe that guy thought we were sisters!" Nina is giddy after the strangers comment, "you have aged well! Even Nan doesn't look like she's seventy odd!" Nina smile is beaming.

"Ok, stop!! I won't fit my head through the door if you continue! Subject change please tell me, you and Adam will have another baby soon?!" Ellie smugly smirked at Nina's question, "wait...are you?" she narrowed her eyes at Ellie. "No! I wouldn't be drinking if I was! We have talked about it, but we decided with everything going on at the moment, maybe now isn't the best time!" Nina sighs, "but you kids are having fun practicing!" she winks, Ellie almost chokes on her drink.

Nina turns towards the barmaid, "Give us three each of your best shots!" Ellie looks at her in horror "Come on, it's your night off! Blow off some steam!" Ellie doesn't argue instead she knocks them back with her.

After four more rounds of shots they are giggling like two school girls, "y-you gotta do it one more t-time!!" Nina begs her "F-fine, okaaay!" Ellie's words are slurred, but she clears her throat "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?!" Nina howls again, "A-Adam t-tinks he c-cany thell h-how drunk I's am b-by getting moi to say that, but..." she points her finger "t-the j-jokes on h-him I's cany s-says zits d-drunk twos!"

"Als gets m-me t-to says seashell sells, she's by the sea door!" Nina looks confused "Waait t-that's n-not hows i-it hoes!" the pair laugh realizing what she said. "Ah Ellie, y-you knows I-I like y-you the bestest g-girlfriend..no w-wife Adams e-ever had! I-I thought I ad saw h-him in loves before b-b-butts...he worships y-you hands y-you d-does him!" Ellie blushes, "T-thank y-yous! N-now more shits...I's mean shots!" the pair cheer before ordering a few more rounds.

A few hours later...

Their bedroom was empty, she heard that the shower in the ensuite was on, biting her lip an idea pops into her head, and she stripes down until she's naked. The steam from the shower filled the bathroom. She reached for the curtain and jumps in behind him, he's washing his hair and hasn't noticed her jump in.

She notices the muscles on his back twitch at the realization that she's back from her night out. "Hey beautiful, did you have a good time?" he says washing the shampoo out, she presses her lips against his board shoulders. "Ah uh! You?" she asks, watching his body cover in goosebumps as she peppers kisses against his skin, he stops the shower.

"Yeah, we had a good night!" he says, running his fingers through hair, she grips his butt and squeezes his cheeks "What you doing, beautiful?" she moves closer and reaches to grasp his shaft "I'm just feeling up my husband." She works against his length, feeling it stiffen with each stroke, she hears him groan as he drops his head forward.

She continues to pepper kisses over his back, he can't bare it anymore spinning himself around he claims her lips. He pushes her against the tile wall, lifting her up wrapping her legs around him he smirks against her lips. "Is this what you wanted, Beautiful?" she gasped his lip between her teeth, "I think you already know the answer to that!" she mocks him.

The pads of his digits move over her already wet core making her moan, he pushes his fingers into her "Shit!" she hisses against his lips. She grasps at the nape of his neck, "let me take you to bed!" he groans against her lips.

Holding her close, he steps out of the shower with her still wrapped around him, he moves into the bedroom, and he pins her against the wall. She giggles, "all I've thought about all evening is your little performance! I'm going to make you scream so loud they will hear you from the house!" his lips move to her neck "I think we can be as loud as we like!" she baits him bucking her hips against his hard shaft "Ellie! Keep doing that, and I'll bend you over that bed!" she giggles "Is that a promise?" she asks.

He nips her earlobe on the way down to her collarbone, "what was that, Beautiful?" he smirks against her, "I said is that a promise?" he shushed her quickly pressing his lips to hers. She moans a little too loud against his lips, "don't hold back!" he smirks, "only if you don't?"

He answers her question by putting her down and pushing her towards the bed, laying her hand flat against it, he runs his cock over her throbbing heat before he pushes into her deep, his hands grasp her hips. He draws all the way out just leaving in the tip before he pistons his hips forward into her again, "Ohh!" she moans.

She clenches around him, his pace speeds up and she begins to move her hips to match his. He groans, "Ellie! Fuck! Keep doing that..." she continues her movements, which pushes him deeper with each thrust. He pushes her barriers, he's hitting the walls of her cervix, "that feels so good, Ellie! Fuck! I love you!!"

He leans over as he keeps moving, his finger's moves between her legs and works against her clit "Oh god!" she moans, he loves having her like this. "Adam...harder!" he flips her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress. He thrusts into her again making her arch off the bed, she pulls his lips to her "Ellie, I'm not going to last much longer!" she smirks against his lips "c'mon then handsome, give me everything you got!" he pistons his hips into hers as her own climax is building.

She gets closer to the edge until she falls over it "ADAM!! YES! YES! YES!" she moans. Not letting up each thrust is more powerful than the last, he slams into her over and over again, he quickly pushes her towards the edge again, "Come again, baby!" he says as he kisses her neck, "let me ride you!"

He pulls out of her before his back presses against the mattress and pulls her onto of him, parting her folds entering her again. She moves slowly making him groan, "baby, you got to move faster!" he grasps her hips as he bucks his. She grabs his wrist and pins them above his head, "you taking charge, beautiful?" he smirks up at her.

"Maybe!" she plunges down onto him, letting go of his arms, he groans, "Do you know how hot you looked on top?!" he grins running his forefinger down her body to her apex. He works against her clit, he captures her lips as she moves making her body tingle, he pumps into her fast and heavy, his nails dig into her skin at her hips.

She presses her hands against his chest and moves to meet his pace, her walls clenches round him, "Come on baby! Come for me!" he whispers against her lips. She hits her high "Ohhh!" she cries out. "Fuck!! Ellie!" he falls after her.

Panting trying to catch their breath, he claims her lips again, still in her state of euphoria she looks down at him smiling. She collapses on the bed next to him, "I love you, Adam!" he rolls onto his side "I love you more, Ellie!" his fingers trace the inside of her thigh before gliding over her slick slits, "Adam..whatcha doing?" his fingers push into her once more making her arch into his touch.

The next morning...

Tears roll down her face, her heart breaks "Adam...I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, but these last few weeks our lives have been flipped upside fucking down...and it's starting to make me wonder will our marriage survive this? Because if I'm completely honest?! I'm not sure it will!"

The blood drains from his face...is this the end of us?

Chapter 7

@aussieez @secretaryunpaid @lem-20 @irisofpurple @rookiemartin @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @palmaviolet @wombatsxkookaburras @pixie-b

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬4

Warnings: nonconsensual touching, fingering, deceptive behaviour, allusions to abuse.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: I haven’t updated in a minute but I got the yen to come back to Arvin so here we go! Also working away at my gif requests which are super fun :)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The fight echoed in your head as Arvin buttoned up the front of your dress, although a few were missing. He helped you to your feet and you leaned on him heavily, barely able to see ahead of you, let alone support yourself on your shaky legs. You climbed the stairs as your mind passed through a tunnel of shock. You didn’t realise you’d even left the living room until you were lowered onto the bed.

Arvin sat beside you, his hand on your shoulder as he spoke softly. You didn’t understand his words as you turned your face away and tears trickled down your tender cheek. You weren’t sad that Roy was gone, you were embarrassed that another had seen what you let him do to you, and terrified of the nice man with the pistol. 

Was he really so nice? You barely knew him at all and he’d had a gun under your roof. Sure, Roy had a rifle but that was for hunting. You couldn’t say or even try to imagine why Arvin had a handgun.

The lamp clicked off and the end of the chain clinked against the long stem. You laid in the dark, not daring to move, and after hours of dazed disbelief, you dozed off, your back wracked with pain from the tension and awkward position.

You woke with a stiff neck, a swollen face, and a weight in your chest. You sat up slowly and held your forehead as the bed shifted. Arvin dumped an armful of Roy's old flannels into the open suitcase at the foot of the mattress. You blinked and rubbed your eye as you leaned on one arm. You yawned and stretched your shoulders.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"I'll see him today," he said as he pulled open the chest of drawers and grabbed the stained and torn denim from within, "make sure he stays away for good."

"What? Arvin," you bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees, "he's my husband."

"He didn't act like one," he continued to toss Roy's clothes haphazardly into the bag, "he beat you!" He stopped and put his hands on his hips, "he never talked to you nice and…" he stopped and shook his head and closed the suitcase. He zipped it up with a sigh, "I heard him that first night. I figured, you weren't my wife, I could live with it. Well, I can't. You deserve better than him."

"It's not that easy. I can't just toss him out--"

"No, I did," Arvin insisted, "and I'll keep him out."

"You shouldn’t have done that. Last night. He'll be mad."

"So?" Arvin hauled the bag off the bed and dragged it to the door. The bottom of his shirt moved and revealed the butt of the gun sticking out of the top of his jeans.

"Are you gonna make sure with that?" You asked as you turned your legs over the side of the bed, "you can't just shoot him, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course, but he doesn't know I won't," Arvin looked back at you, "I'm gonna make breakfast then head out… how's your head?"

"Feels like there's a rock in my temple," you groaned and stood, "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"No one but you, huh?" He challenged, "Look, I won't hurt him, I promise, but I also won't let him hurt you."

You neared him meekly as you hugged yourself, "why?"

"Because you do," he said, "because if you won't save yourself, I will. I have to," he looked down at his scuffed shoes, "I seen too many girls, too many women, hurt in my life. I ain't that old, you know? But I can't stand no more."

You watched him go and listened to him descend the old stairs. You frowned and flinched as you glanced around and caught a glimpse of yourself in the antique oval mirror your mother had left behind all those years ago. You looked as bad as you felt, worse; you couldn't help but be comforted by Arvin's concern, in fact, it felt good to have someone who cared about you.

🚬

It was hard to concentrate that day. Even a chore as simple as the dishes or sweeping the floors took twice as long as usual as your mind strayed to the night before and fears of what was to come.

You tried to convince Arvin to leave the bag there but he wasn’t folding, not like you. You admired him for that, but at the same time it made you squirm. Something had changed. He was no longer the sweet young man staying in your attic, he became the indomitable and angry man waving the gun around as he spoke about killing others without so much as flinching.

You remembered what he said. He’d killed a man before, or was it men? It wasn’t like you had anyone who could or would help you. You doubted Roy would come back even if you wanted him to, and on that front, you just couldn’t be sure. He was your husband and it was improper to put him out but let another man sleep under your roof.

The only woman in town who’d dared divorce her husband was Carmen Dolan and there was no where in town she went where people didn’t whisper about her; at the store, in church, and even on the sidewalks. It didn’t matter that her husband was sneaking around or that he was little better than Roy in his manners. It was a small place and people had too much time to talk.

Well, how many friends did you have there? Noreen couldn’t be called as much and all the girls you knew in school were married and too busy to keep up those old teenage ties. You could bide them at the sewing circles, they never were very nice, and you went to church out of obligation not out of a need for that ridiculous shallow socializing of housewives. Besides, you’d failed at all that, hadn’t you?

Then you began to worry. What if Roy flipped and hurt Arvin? Or Arvin hurt him? The suitcase would hardly be taken with a thanks. If Roy was ashamed enough he might just grumble and ignore the other man for the rest of the day, but if he wasn’t, he might just pick up where they left off last night.

You were hanging out the washing when a faded old Chevrolet drove up the dusty drive. You squinted past the stiff jeans as it steered closer and the engine stopped. Arvin climbed out and jingled the keys as he went around the other side. He took out a paper bag and crossed the yard.

“How was your day?” he asked with a smile.

You stared, dumbfounded. How could he act so… normal?

“Wh--what happened with…” your voice trailed out and you unclipped a pair of his jeans.

“Roy? Oh, he took his things and tucked tail after lunch,” he scoffed, “he didn’t look too good. Probably didn’t feel good neither.”

You nodded and dropped the jeans into the basket and tucked the pegs into your pocket. He crinkled the paper bag and stopped you from reaching to the next pair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head and stepped back so that his hand fell from your arm.

“I know last night was-- hard. I only did what I had to, not anything I wanted to,” his brows drew together, “here.”

He held out the paper bag and you eyed it warily. You chewed your lip and he stepped closer.

“Please, it’s, uh, I want you to have it,” he said, “you deserve it and maybe it is an apology. I went a little far but… I don’t regret it. Roy got what was coming.”

You took the bag and he tucked his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t have to get me nothing,” you said.

“Like I said, I wanted to. You do all the hard work here,” he replied, “and I’ll finish this up.”

He reached up and took down the next pair of pants and put them in the basket with the rest. He moved down the line as you watched him, the bag under your arm. You didn’t move, just watched. You looked over at the Chevrolet and frowned.

“Where’d you get the car?” you asked.

“Used,” he said as he folded a shirt in half and dropped it into the basket, “they had it down at the shop for a while now and I told the boss to take out installments from my next few checks. He didn’t mind much, he ain’t been able to get rid of it. Some work to be done but--” He lifted the basket and neared you, “you didn’t look yet?”

“Inside,” you said, “I didn’t wanna just leave you out here with all that.”

You nodded to the laundry and he pointed you toward the house. He followed you up onto the porch and through the screen door. He stopped to slip off his shoes and continued on after you into the living room. You put the bag down on the end table and uncurled the top.

You pulled out the large square and held up the record. The man who stared back at you had sparkling blue eyes and black hair. Elvis Presley smiled as if it was all a funny joke.

“There’s more,” he said.

You set down the record against the arm of the couch and reached into the brown bag again. You pulled out the fabric and a finely tailored pink dress in the latest style unfolded before you. You stared as he neared and he took the bag from the table. He revealed the last piece from the bag and set them down on the carpet, a pair of brand new heels.

“Why did you do all this?” you shoved the dress at him, “I can’t accept it.”

“You can,” he stepped back, “and just so you know, I’ll be paying my rent to you direct now.”

He sidled past you and took the album from the couch. He went to the record player and slid the vinyl from the sleeve. He carefully placed it on the player and lined up the pin. He turned back to you and crossed the room. He pulled the dress from your hands and let it slump over the couch cushion.

“Do you know the shimmy? I could show you? It’s the new thing,” he said as he took your hand, “you just move your hips, bend your legs a little, keep your arms out like this.” He moved slowly at first as he drew you into the middle of the room, “just with me, to the rhythm.”

“I can’t,” you protested, “really, I’m not a dancer.”

“Me neither, but it’s fun,” he tugged on your hand, “come on.”

He sang out of tune as he kept his hips moving. You watched him and tried to copy him, hoping to placate him long enough that you could escape to the kitchen. The dress, the album, the dancing, it all felt so wrong.

As the song ended, he brought you close and wrapped you up and slowed down. He swayed you with him as the record kept spinning. His eyes clung to yours.

“He didn’t know what he had,” he said.

“Arvin, I gotta start supper,” you whispered as you pushed on him, “please.”

“I got you the new dress so we could go to the drive-in,” he kept you against him, “Friday night. You like Audrey Hepburn?”

“I… haven’t seen much of her,” you confessed, “Arvin, really, the ham--”

“He’s not coming back,” he released you reluctantly, “I told you. I told him.”

“He’s still my husband,” you crossed your arms and looked down.

“Is he? He never treated you like his wife.”

“It’s the law--”

“Divorce him. You’ll keep the house, it’s yours. Your daddy left it to you.”

“And do what? I can’t afford it on my own--”

“You got me.”

“You won’t stay here forever,” you uttered.

He didn’t say anything and narrowed his eyes. He shrugged and turned away. “You have options and Roy is the wrong one,” he said, “you can’t hate yourself that much.”

You barely heard him and didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t and left him to Elvis’ soft tones as you went to pull out the honey ham. You still had some of your sweet mustard left in that jar from last year or maybe the apple sauce. It was easier to focus on the food and not the madness of men.

🚬

The nights and days drifted by like sand in a glass. Whenever Arvin was there, even when he was in the attic and you were below, you were painfully aware that it was only the two of you in that big house. You weren’t afraid for yourself really, he hadn’t done anything to you. You should hate Roy for how he’d been to you all those years but you didn’t want to be the reason he got hurt.

But as the time went by, it was also harder to tell Arvin no. You never thought anyone could be overly helpful, especially after Roy’s indifference, but you were overwhelmed by his presence. He was always lurking around when you least expected, watching you, waiting. He always offered to finish the chore or kept you from doing it entirely. You should be thankful but it made you feel more guilty than anything.

When Friday came, you carried on your usual routine. You were mopping when the Chevrolet pulled up. He’d spent the night before with his head under the hood. He said it wasn’t too bad for the price and the repairs were minimal and none so urgent. 

The car door closed then his steps walked up onto the porch. As he entered the house, you hit the mop against the wall and kept your head down, swiping back and forth against the wood. He didn’t dare to step past the threshold and mess your clean floors.

“You should finish up and get ready,” he said.

You looked up at him and feigned ignorance. You hoped all day he would forget about the movie. You didn’t want to wear the dress, it made your wedding ring chafe just to think of it. You focused again on the mop and kept back stepping away from him. 

“Maybe not tonight, Arvin,” you said, “I’m tired.”

“You don’t have to work yourself sick,” he leaned against the doorframe, “really. You can always just take a day and… relax.”

You put the mop in the bucket and rested it against the wall. You took a deep breath but didn’t look at him.

“I don’t think we should go at all.”

He sighed and rubbed his cheek, “Really? Roy hasn’t even tried to come back. Hasn’t even tried to apologise. In all these years, did he ever once say sorry to you for anything?”

“Maybe not but I married him. I made that decision and I have to see it through.”

“Not like that,” he tutted, “besides, it’s just a movie…”

“Just a movie,” you repeated and walked over the drying floor, “alright then.”

He watched you and the thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. He let you go as you grabbed the railing and ascended the stairs. You felt his eyes on you, even after you turned down the hall, as if he could see you through the walls.

“We got time,” he called up, “no rush. It’s not even close to dark but I don’t want you to worry about… all this.”

You didn’t reply and closed the bedroom door. You sat on the end of your bed and clasped your hands. You still felt terribly trapped. You didn’t think so much of what Roy would say, he always said the worst. You thought about your father and how disappointed he would be. You knew he wouldn’t have let Roy treat you so bad if he was still alive, but he would still be sad if he knew how it all worked out.

🚬

You hadn’t been to the drive-in since you were going steady with Roy. It was a singular occasion and an unpleasant one. He got drunk and couldn’t drive home so you had to get behind the wheel and pray you didn’t crash. It wasn’t that you couldn’t drive, you just hated it. Thinking of it then, you should have expected all that came after.

Arvin pulled in as the sky dimmed slowly and he left you to go to concession and grab popcorn. When he returned, he handed you a box of chocolates as he cradled the large paper bag of kernels. You thanked him and opened the box, distracting yourself with the chewy caramels covered in milk chocolate. You offered him some as you looked around and waited for the screen to flash into motion.

There were a few families among the patrons but mostly teenagers, couples and groups, rowdy as they impatiently hollered for the film to roll. You hadn’t heard of this one, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Arvin said he read about it in the paper and it was supposed to be a flick meant for ladies. He said he didn’t mind as he liked the actors.

When at last it was dark enough, the movie began and you set the box down on the seat and munched on a handful of popcorn out of courtesy. The credits began and you were quickly swept up into the life of Holly Golightly. You were almost agog to think that a woman could live like her. City life seemed so different, so free, so scary. And she didn’t let all those men rule her.

You felt Arvin slide closer to you and his arm snaked around your shoulders. You tensed as you focused on Hepburn’s waifish voice and offkey plucking of the ukulele. You tried to ignore him as you felt his warm breath and the kiss on your temple made you wince. Your eyes flicked over to the car on the other side of you, then the next. The audience was rapt.

His hand grazed along your skirt and he kissed your cheek. Your heart raced wildly. You wanted to stop him but didn’t know how. And he was so sweet and he did so much for you. He’d brought you all the way here and kept Roy from cracking your head open. Could you really say no?

“I know I said it already,” his hand lingered on the pink fabric, “but this looks wonderful on you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you kept your wide eyes on the screen.

“Really, you’re beautiful, honey,” he purred as he nuzzled your throat, “living so close… it’s hard…”

He pushed his hand under your skirt and up between your thighs. He wiggled until you parted your legs and grabbed your chin with his other. He turned you to face him and crushed his lips against yours. He leaned on you until you were flat against the seat and he brought your legs up onto the leather as he held himself over you.

He kissed you even deeper as his fingers tickled over the front of your panties and crawled up to the top. He slipped his hand down the front of your underwear and you whimpered. When he touched you, you were afraid but confused. It felt good, better than anything you’d ever done with Roy.

You gulped and turned your head as you gasped. You grabbed his shoulder and shuddered. His fingers delved between your folds and swirled. You murmured and squeezed his arm.

“Please, I’m-- I’m still married, we can’t--”

He nibbled at your neck and blindly reached up to grab your hand. He gripped the ring on your finger and forced it off and flicked it away. It rolled under the seat as he rasped against your throat.

“He’s gone,” his fingers danced around your clit eagerly, “don’t you understand? I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back, honey.”

“Arvin, I--” you squeaked as the waves swelled and flowed down your legs and you were caught in the tide, “please…”

You closed your eyes, your mind stormed with how wrong it was but your body pulsed with delight. He pushed his fingers further back and the heel of his hand pressed to your bud. He curled his fingers inside of your and you moaned as he rested the weight of his pelvis against his hand. He rocked his touch in time with his hips, as if he was fucking you, and kissed you on the mouth again, swallowing up your desperate cries.

Your legs wrapped around his as you came and you tilted your pelvis as you rode the high. He lifted his head to watch you orgasm and your lashes fluttered as you succumbed to the ecstasy. You squirmed as he slowed his fingers and stilled his hand entirely. You were out of breath as he stopped at last but kept his hand nestled between your legs.

You covered your face with your shaky hand and exhaled deeply. He pulled your hand down and rubbed the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he purred, “a nicer one.”