#slowly but steady im working through it lmao

[fandomxo00]

okay so imagine this:

Period sex in the shower

im in writers block a bit so this is me forcing myself to write lmao its cute tho very comforty for me

it was your day off of work and Logan had to work sadly. You had eaten supper, taken a shower and written a little before heading to bed. You kept his food in the fridge and you hoped he'd wake you up when he got home.

Luckily for you, you just couldn't fall asleep your mind racing of your boyfriend. you were on your period so all you really did today was lay around, in pain, eating chocolate and junk. You cried at a movie, used your heating pad, wrote about Logan in your diary. You'd thought about him all day, whether it was the feeling of his hair between your fingers, or rough wrinkled skin on his face. you wanted to press your lips against his and never let go. you really just wanted him to hold you and you hoped he'd give you a massage. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the house making your heart pick up. Now he definitely knew you were awake.

You turned on your back, kicking off the sheets, only dressed in your granny panties and pair of extra baggy pants that Logan liked to steal from you. logan slipped off his boots and coat, you sighed when you heard the shower turn on. you groaned getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. you saw your naked lover in the shower his body glistening with water, his dark thick hair pooling together. Logan turned towards you before clearing his throat.

'c'mere baby.'

"im not feeling too good."

"that's alright, you know i don't mind." he dipped his chin looking into your eyes to tell you he knew what was going, when you asked him to pick up chocolate and chips on the way home.

your stripped off your pants and underwear before sitting on the toilet to remove your tampon. before washing your hands and then getting into the shower. your hands reaches out to musclely back, your thumb rubbing cover a few freckles before sliding your hands down around his waist as you kisses the dip of his spine. Logan's natural musk invading your senses. he turned around his hands coming to your hips, grasping on to the flesh of your love handles as his lips collided with yours in a soft kiss.

you felt a frown wobble at your mouth as you kissed him. an overwhelming feeling of love and appreciation washing over you as the man you loved so much held you in his arms. you've never felt so safe, warm and special before. Logan whispered sweet things in your ears, telling you he loves you, that your his girl. almost always praising you but then you'd do something bad like reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. you watched him slowly rise to half mass just from touching and kissing you. you started stroking his beautiful cock. you were serious the vein that ran from below his belly button to the mid shaft his cock. god you loved licking that vein teasing him and you wouldn't get in trouble for being forward.

but when you had his cock shoved your throat your hand craddling his balls, milking him fucking dry and you ripped an orgasm of out him. his hand would come to your hair because he asked you to stop. but you didn't. you waited to hear the safe word but he didn't, you knew you both liked when you got punished. logan would tug you up to your feet his hand soothing over your stomach. you were on your period, he was going to be gentle with you but he also knew being rough made you fucking soaked.

his hand came around your throat as he gave you an open mouth kiss before scooping you up like you weren't over two hundred and something pounds. you moaned into his mouth as his cock ground against your pussy. his cock sliding into your entrance, your tight entrance sucking him in. your fingers tug into his back as he groaned loudly into your mouth. his hips were steady as he fucked you taking his time in order to not hurt you. you were sensitive on your period and going hard made your cramps worse. but if he spoke to you lowly as he fucked you, talking you through it so you would relax in his arms.

logan would come inside of you as you fluttered around his cock, trying to keeping your muscles relaxed even in an orgasmic haze. logan washed the two of you up before getting you a pad and panties, pulling them on you after you toweled off. you took more time in the shower then he did, but after you got dressed you just moved into his arms.

cuddling into his chest and smelling his body wash, his mouth was minty fresh as he kissed you softly. you were obsessed with this man. the two of you cuddled up to watch a scary movie, logan leaning over to casually make out with you. distracting you from the plot of the movie as his wet lips slide against yours. when he parts a string of saliva connects the two of you. you moved forward to smear it against his lips as you snuck your tongue into his mouth. his hand moved steady circles on your stomach, his other hand rubbing at your shoulders.

you broke away from the kiss to moan, before moving your back towards. "my back is so sore, bug please."

"course baby." logan murmured, kissing the side of your neck as his large firm hands moved over your shoulders. engulfing the skin in his tan warm grip, before pushing his fingers into your muscles. a moan fell from your lips as he continued to knead. his cock stirring in his pants, the plan was to say nothing as of now. if you wanted him he'd give you anything anywhere anytime. logan's focus was solely on you and easing your discomfort. something he rarely did for you but then he started humming one of your favorite songs, "heart like yours." by williamette stone. you completely melted into his touch before he leant you against the couch to rub at your leg muscles. seriously rubbing at the muscles in your thigh, behind your knee, your calves, your feet. he wanted you completely at ease, as he brought you to his chest to hold you close.

"you ready for bed, baby?"

"yeah,lo"

"alright lets go."

"carry me?"

"course darling."

@jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[burning-thistles-bt]

"I'm proud of you."

Chapter 168 Excerpt

[jazzyblusnowflake]

You've got some cool headcanons for Nuzi and Vuzi, but what about the third? You got any for EnVy?

Wow i suck at answering these on time smh. sighhhh, in my defense i procrastinate answering some questions cuz i don't wanna just put together some random stuff and call it a day-

i actually wrote some stuff for some asks before but had to delete it last minute cuz i thought its worth putting more time than that, i guess TvT sorry, im probably taking this too seriously idk.

My eNVee headcanons TvT:

[yall know the drill, the drone versions only, the human versions aren’t involved, and no nsfw- for now.]

k so, light envuzi involved too, Uzi is the mediator here, whether u consider her a friend here or their mini toaster in the middle- also there's some of the stuff from my future version where V is safe and sound thankfully. and also maybe some stuff from their past too.

With how N was realizing that V was lying or hiding stuff from him in a constant manner, naturally he grew to grieve the loss of who V USED to be, and with that loss he tried to accept that he has to let her go, because the V he fell in love with was long gone. despite this, when they both started teasing each other over their relationship with Uzi and N started to bite back a bit at Vs behaviors with more self confidence, they grew to form a completely different kind of relationship. Uzi was just having fun seeing them try to win her over lmao; but in the end they kind of started enjoying eachothers company again. Uzi felt happy seeing them get closure for the things they went through and was more than happy to support them through it.

Back at the manor V was fixed up after J and N, she was one of the later drones added to the family, she hardly spent much time at the manor at all before the great yeetening happened- she was originally a maid drone for a family before she was broken and dumped in the drone corpse junkyard. Maid drones are programmed with sweet and soft AIs with more round/short body shapes to have a friendly image in a household, they are made to be able to deal with both adults and kids, and they are best made for cleaning and setting up the house in mind. N was made as a butler/chauffeur before getting broken and yeeted in the junkyard [yes he can drive]. Due to V getting broken for some sort of mistake during work, she was left scarred after her reboot to make any more mistakes, which left her slightly jitter-ish and clumsy. Tessa put N in charge to help her around and although at the beginning V didn't talk much and felt unsure, slowly N became her safe space- especially since Tessas abusive parents remind V alot of her old household. N in turn thought V was always cute, he helped her with her work, having more steady hands, which ended with a lot more hand touching and blushing on both their ends :p

N was the one that suggested glasses for V which Tessa decided to try doing to see if it would help her visual efficiency in any way, and it did. V as a DD often tries to rely on her real eyes rather than look through her main visor, the glasses remind her too much of N...

N and V sometimes used to get out of the manor in secret spots to spend some time away from the chaos to help V calm down. during this time they would read books, learn stuff from each others past lives, and sometimes draw lol, but V just liked watching and listening to N, she felt happy with him. although unlike N, V felt a bit nervous around the animals in the area XD

N and V actually have shared kisses, just not on the lips. with N kissing her on the back of her hand as a gentleman and V giving him kisses on his cheek [Tessa's idea of a cute plan to put them under a mistletoe lol], but Vs last words to N was a promise to give him a kiss before she became comatose. as more drones in the manor stopped working and Ns efficiency and work became less useful to the manors occupants due to him wanting to spend time with V all the time, Louisa and James started becoming more impatient with Tessa's drones, which lead to the whole "get rid of them" line...

back in the current time V is obviously trying to protect N in her own traumatized way; but even then, most of the things she had done to "shelter" N, was probably not the best choice one could make, and some of it was done out of jealousy towards N and Uzi getting closer. However, slowly she started convincing herself that N deserved someone like Uzi. V had convinced herself that she deserves nothing. She was willing to give up everything for N and keep him safe from the beginning, even if it meant knocking N down a few limbs/heads just to keep him away from danger- which is problematic in itself. she made choices based off fear and urgency. she was always traumatized.

When N and V started getting along together a bit more and hanging around a bit in the human cities- V takes N to a bookstore she found once and they spent the whole day in the shelter of the store reading different old books. V still does not admit she did this to see N happy again lol.

When N started showing V affection again, V started becoming heavily touch starved and dependent on him again, just like the manor days, which she feared, which caused a minor set back for a while where she tried to avoid N. Uzi had to come and fix this shit cuz apparently only she can scold 2 dinosaurs without feeling intimidated. after N and V kiss for the first time PROPERLY after the whole solver BS ends, V just gets more touch starved and she hates both N AND Uzi for this lmao.

N and Uzi know that one of the only ways to make V calm down is to act soft with her, occasionally praising her and calling her nice things; even when V is literally threatening to bite their head off- [shes bluffing-.......mostly.]

N is usually the one that initiates any closeness with V. after their first kiss, N does tell her that she's done stuff that he might not be able to casually forgive, but at the same time he has seen her grow, and she does have good in her that he still loves her for.

V has nightmares and hardly ever sleeps, and when she does, its usually cuddling N or Uzi.

V tries to wear her glasses more often in the future. N likes it a lot :"3

V is surprisingly a good mom :p [spoilers for my au lmao bye] but yeah, since her original OS was for a maid, she still has some functions to be good with little ones. she cant help herself, she just really likes babies and kids.

N likes sometimes ballroom dancing with V for old times sake...

[i think this is as far as my brain will allow me, please excuse me as i jump off a cliff :") ]

[inhibitionfreewriting]

Ludwig idea

He has a hair dying stream where you have a previously picked out color so you dye his hair and then reveal to him that you put matching colors in yours. I was thinking kinda like billie eilish style where the roots are a bright color so they can stay hidden under a hat until you reveal it on stream

:)

reids my sweet. my love. one of my very first interactors. my darling dear. im so sorry this took so long ♥

this one is for you

--

Marbles was quite literally a gamble and that's what Ludwig liked about it. It could be anything. Another subathon, squats, pushups, wear your clothing for a stream, you impersonate each other for a stream, cooking stream, drunk stream and the list goes on and on and on. Lucky enough for you, and unlucky enough for him, it was to dye his hair and with you being there during this day, you were able to help champion for specific colors.

"No chat I'm NOT going to do 'Twitch Purple'," Ludwig groaned, shaking his head while you giggled, running a hand through his hair.

"I dunno, I think purple would look nice here... chat what about a really just bright orange? Or bright red?" It was so hard to sway chat from a shade similar to purple, but you ran your hand through his hair instead, messing with it. With purple staying at a steady near 80% of votes, Ludwig covered his face before throwing his hands up.

"FINE! Fine fine - we will do purple. Fuuuuckin' purple..." 

"It's okay chat, you can trust me. I'll get the right shade of purple. I'll make it if I have to." An affectionate wave of messages erupted in chat which made you smile as you leaned on Ludwig's head, wrapping an arm around him. "I can run to the store tomorrow and we can plan for like. Let's say Friday so I can fresh bleach your hair and then we can dye it on stream. How's that ludbuds? Can't do it all in one go, might turn him into Slime and bald him." You laughed and Ludwig shook his head, clapping and adjusting in his seat while you released him.

"Now that my fate has been decided, I suppose we should move onto what everyone is here for. Only Up."

--

A few days later, and after much trial and error, you managed to get a relatively close purple dye that would at least on first application be the right shade.  You knew that because you had decided to throw it in your own hair. There wasn't a better way of knowing it would come out right than trying on a test strand.

Now that your hair was mostly dry and tossed up into a beanie, you gathered your supplies and met him in the stream room. He was sitting and scrolling through Youtube shorts, turning to greet you when he sees your reflection. "You know we can back out of this hair dying thing at any point, they'll forget."

"Lud, I called you Slime once a year ago and they have not dropped it. People comment on pictures of us 'slime and his girlfriend' for fun." He barked a laugh.

"Okay, you're right."

"Usually. Can you turn around and turn your stream on already?" You giggled and wrapped a towel around his shoulders as he clicked to go live and started talking to chat. Just an easy stream, shooting the shit, dying his hair. Without thinking, Ludwig reached to the back of his head and before you could stop him, scratched and covered his fingers in dye. "You are so stupid, give me your hand."

> hes so fucking stupid lmao > u should literally tape his hands to his chair

"What are you- is that conditioner? That's not going to get this off my hand."

"Oh yeah because you're so beauty smart. It's always worked for me." You wiped at his hand with the towel and started to smear conditioner against his skin, pulling the dye out of it. Slowly it was erased and you shook your head, not realizing that you had been leaning close enough to get dye on your beanie.

> beanie ruined > they got purple on their forehead > 💀💀💀 they're perfect for each other

Ludwig started to laugh, using his clean hand to try to pick the dye off of her forehead, smearing it worse.

> STOP STOP > DUMBASS ALERT > they don't have a real job do they

"Huh?" Looking into the camera and glancing at the screen you groaned, wiping your hands on the towel. "This is why we can't have nice things." Without thinking about the fact that your hair was supposed to be a surprise, you took the beanie off and tried to pick up as much dye as you could off the fabric. There went your mint beanie, that was perfect and clean for a very long time, but now you'd have to painstakenly take purple hair dye out of it. Ludwig reached up with his clean hand and touched a part of your hair, seeing the purple halo of your roots.

"That's why you wouldn't let me in the bathroom," his voice was soft and probably a lot more affectionate than needed, but you could feel your cheeks heat up, did the mic catch that? "You look amazing..."

"That wasn't supposed to be the way the reveal went... I was going to pull it off at the end..." You took clean conditioner and rubbed it against your forehead, trying to get the other bits of dye off your skin.

> this is way too intimate for stream > get out get OUT GET OUT > GET A ROOM

"Okay chat chill, it's not that big of a deal, except it is because LOOK at how hot they are."

[guiltiestlove]

you're so right, simon would be a needy guy lmao

soooo how about #15 from the smut prompts with simon :) he deserves to be taken care of

(I'll be 🥩 anon)

It’s been a long week and your boyfriend, Simon Blackquill, needs you.

Simon Blackquill x gn reader ~1080 words

N/SFW, MDNI !

cw/tags: blowjob, facefucking, deepthroating, hairpulling, kinda rough sex, petnames, established relationship

notes: i plan on editing/expanding on this a bit and uploading to ao3 bc hey i keep getting carried away LOL im still remembering how to write short things apparently lmfao

Your boyfriend had burst through the apartment door with a groan. Distractedly muttering grievances to himself, he neglected to see your resting figure on the couch and headed straight toward your shared room. While Friday evenings were usually scheduled for just the two of you, he had been tasked to stay late and finish up some particularly demanding casework today.

Thrilled to finally spoil your lover after such a grueling week, you quietly lift yourself off the sofa and make your way to the bedroom. The door’s hinges quietly squeak as you push the door fully open and rest your hand on the knob. The slightest smirk creeps up your face. “Hey, baby. Rough day?”

Simon’s eyes light up as he turns to you, like a switch is flipped. “Darling…” Having only taken off his coat and shoes, he stands hip cocked, tie askew. It’s a view somewhere between professional and casual that only you get to see. And it’s such a gorgeous view. He continues as you stare. “I did not see you in the living room.” With a hungry look of his own, he rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, drawing your attention to his hands and arms. He takes one step forward, his eyes somehow focusing even more on you. “I assumed you to still be out picking up groceries.” You don’t even let him finish. Eagerly you move alongside him, grabbing his arm and dragging you both onto the bed.

With a huff you’ve pulled the large man on top of you, much to his surprise but even more to his delight. You respond intending to tease him slightly, “I got home a few hours ago! In fact I was waiting so very patiently for the most handsome man to come through the do—“ He’s staring at your lips and letting you speak until he can’t take it anymore. He interrupts you mid-taunt, and his lips feverishly meet yours, while your arms gladly wrap around his neck.

Almost begrudgingly, his mouth pulls away from yours. “You see, my patience has grown too thin, my love.” He can’t bear to move any farther away from you than this. Already your legs are tangled, breath fanning each other’s faces with hands running through hair. You search his face at this response—you want to see the fire in his eyes. But he greedily buries his face in your neck and grinds against you with pure desire. He leans toward your ear. “I need you. Please.”

You’d do anything for him in this moment. Now he’s biting and panting down your neck, and you can barely get your sentence out between moans. “Ah, Simon, tell me what you want, baby. Hhh-Anything for my good boy.” You feel him press his dick against you even harder, and your own wants are growing more difficult to ignore by the second. Managing to untangle himself from you for a brief moment, he unzips his pants and positions himself against the headboard, short of breath already. “My cock.. please.”

He watches you slink out of your shirt, and for a moment you’re still. His eyes are soaking in every inch of you as you then lick your lips and speak. “Simon…” You’re on your hands and knees now. “What do you want me to do to it? Tell me what you need.”

He takes a deep breath attempting to steady himself. “Your perfect mouth engulfing my cock. I need your warmth around me… I—I need you to devour me, my dove. Please. I beg.�� He can barely get out the last words, he’s already so worked up.

You crawl towards him, slowly pulling down his briefs with your teeth. He hisses and slams his head back with probably too much force, but it’s an excited reflex. On your knees, you reach and feel up his sides while you arch your back, savoring his moans. Scraping your nails down his torso, you can’t wait any longer, and you lick from the base of his shaft to the tip, eliciting a drawn-out whine from your boyfriend. Caressing his balls with one hand, you slowly wrap your other around the base of his shaft and begin lightly kissing the tip of his cock.

His gaze could burn a hole through you, he wouldn’t dare take his eyes off this gorgeous sight. He carefully runs a hand through your hair and you lean into his touch. “I think you should—“ You kiss his hand. “—take what you need.” His face somehow turns paler, and his cock twitches in your hand. “A—ah..don’t hesitate to double tap, my love.” Your eyes are uncharacteristically blown out, and you throw a pillow onto the floor, clamboring down as quickly as possible. You can’t move or get the words out quick enough. “Of course—now please, Simon!”

The look on your face mixed with your desperate pleas gives him an intoxicating feeling of desire. You catch a glimpse of a sly, proud smile as he repositions himself. As he grabs a fistful of your hair, you excitedly grab at his hips and take him into your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue makes you dig your nails into his skin. Hesitantly he begins thrusting into you, checking your face, but that only turns him on more. Your half-lidded eyes, and dripping mouth are heavenly. His pace quickens and force grows, as you happily let him use your mouth as he needs. The mixture of slopping, wet noise with Simon’s ever-growing whimpering has you trying to grind against the empty air, you’re so desperate.

It’s almost too difficult physically to take him like this, but it feels so good, you don’t care how ruined your face and throat are right now. Moaning around his cock is too much for him. “God. Oh, fuck me. Ah..ah.. going to come..” Your tongue swirls around him, making sure to focus on his sensitive tip, as you forcefully help guide his hips in and out of your mouth at a rhythmic pace. With an ungodly cry and snap of his hips, you feel him release down your throat. The taste is delicious, only for you, and just makes you want more of him.

With a lick you remove his cock from your mouth, your face beautifully stained and hair completely disheveled. Simon is still staring down at you, just more relaxed and certainly more out of breath. He pulls you up for a kiss and whispers in your ear, “Now, my darling, tell me what it is you need.”

[jeanboyjean]

PART 2: we're not friends

a/n: im thinking i may just update this on ao3 bc posting on tumblr is such a struggle for me LMAO idk why but i feel like it takes so much more work. anyway hope u enjoy!!! wc: 4.2k MASTERLIST | AO3 taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @plutoccult @milky-aeons

Hands wrap around your waist, holding you firm, grounding you against a solid body. Your body is on fire. Warmth envelopes you, spreading from your limbs and heating you to your core. Hair tickles the side of your neck when he dips down to trail along your shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses on your skin. Your head tilts away on instinct, baring your neck, leaving you open and vulnerable. He takes the invitation, tongue dancing on your skin as his lips capture and suck into a particularly sensitive area above your collarbone. Electricity shoots through your veins, lighting your nerves on fire. You gasp. A sharp intake of air traps in your throat and you’re suddenly weightless, knees buckling and falling into him. He, who grips you tight and pulls you even closer. Somewhere, in the back of your head, you’re aware that you’re not the only ones here. There are others present and there’s bass heavy music pumping in the background, but all you can see is him.

All of your senses are inhibited. The room swims around you, tilting and turning as if you’re out on sea but he stands solid, an anchor holding you steady. Your limbs feel loose and heavy; the little coordination you do have is going into keeping your arms wrapped around his neck to cling tight. A woody scent draws you in, mixed with a hint of pepper and musk, making your head spin. All of your senses are tuned in on him, him, him.

There’s a nip at your ear and then he’s saying something, voice low. You strain to hear his words, barely making them out over the music that’s growing louder and louder. The world rotates on axis and lights blur together as pressure builds in your head, ready to explode.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You wake up in a cold sweat. An upbeat melody blasts from your phone - your alarm, jolting you from your slumber. You reach out to silence it, blinking your eyes wide, shaking your head clear. A flush waves over your body as your memory of your dream flits across your mind. Holy shit. What was that? Air fills your lungs as you take a deep breath and you hold it, releasing slowly. 

You’re no stranger to spicy dreams - you’re human and you have needs just like everyone else. This one though had felt so vivid, so real, you swear it could have really happened. Your skin tingles from the memory of hands tangled in your hair, gripping your waist, trailing down to your hips. Your fingertips reach up to lightly touch your lips, recalling the feeling of having someone else touch them with their own. A small sigh escapes you when you graze the side of your neck, where he had been, sucking as if wanting to leave a mark. The anticipation for what could have happened hums in your body and you curl your toes, squeezing them tight to slow down the racing in your chest. 

Honestly, you wish it had been real. It’s been almost a year since you had last had any contact with someone that wasn’t purely platonic. This latest dream is a new addition to a series of related thoughts you’ve been having lately.Might as well add that to your list of sexual frustrations resulting from your dry spell - dream about unknown stranger who you don’t know anything about except that they’re good with their mouth … check. That's it, you really need to get laid. As Eren would say, you’ve got cobwebs forming between your legs from lack of use and as good as your imagination is, this is getting out of hand and you need the real thing. 

You drag yourself into the shower, turning the knob down to lower the temperature a little more than you would usually tolerate. The cold water soothes the heat flowing in your veins, calming the flustered thoughts racing in your mind. You stand there for longer than you need to, letting the water run over you. Across from you, the glass of the bathroom mirror begins clouding from the steam. As the fogs in your brain clears and the tension in your limbs releases, you try to organise your thoughts for your upcoming day. 

The familiar scent of your shampoo is wafting around the shower stall when realisation hits you. Today’s the day. It’s Wednesday, which means it’s the day of your first bio lab with Jean. Jean being your lab partner, the one guy who genuinely seems to hate your guts. You need to be extra collected, because this is going to be your first real test.

You try to hope for the best - for all you know Jean could have just been having a bad day when you first met him. From what Historia had told you, he’s actually known to be pretty friendly normally and apparently top of the class. That’s exactly the kind of energy you need right now and you’re manifesting that you’ll be able to get through the lab with no hiccups. Maybe you had just caught him at the wrong time. Hopefully, you’ll be able to hit it off like a house on fire today … you’re willing to give him a pass if he’s able to get rid of the stick up his ass. 

When you’re done washing yourself, you shut off the water and wrap yourself in a towel. With all of the events of the morning and your musing in the shower, you’re running late again. Frantically, you rush to get dressed and do your makeup to look presentable enough for class. One day you’ll be able to have the energy and willpower to be a morning person - but today is not that day. You’re out of breath by the time you skid into the kitchen where Mikasa stands at the counter spreading jam on a slice of toast. She looks up at you with a knowing smile. 

“Running late again?” 

You nod, anxiously grabbing your water bottle from the drying rack next to the sink and filling it with water. “Yeah, fuck’s sake. I need to start waking up earlier,” you groan, watching the water rise slowly.

She snorts. “Maybe if you went to bed a little earlier you would have better luck. I could hear you watching tiktoks when I was going to sleep.” 

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to keep you up,” you say sheepishly, turning the tap off and screwing the lid back on. “I fell down a rabbit hole watching people guess how much money each other makes. You know how it is.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes, chuckling at your words. She lifts her toast up in your direction, eyebrows raised questioningly. “You having breakfast?” 

You glance at your phone and see you’ve got half an hour until class. It’s a 20 minute walk to campus; if you want to get your coffee before your lab you’re going to have to leave now. You do a quick toss up in your head, weighing up the options and decide you would rather sacrifice your breakfast than your morning caffeine hit. These 8 AMs are going to be the death of you. 

“No, I’ve gotta leave now,” you tell her regretfully, shaking your head. You start to turn away, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. 

She frowns, stopping you before you go with an outstretched palm. She shoves her uneaten slice into your hand. “Take this and eat it on the way. You can’t run on nothing.”

You take it gratefully and give her a quick hug, squeezing tight with your arms. With no time to waste, you make your way to the door. As you leave, you call out your goodbyes to her. 

“Love you! See you tonight!” 

Fluorescent lights flicker above you and a faint citrus from cleaning solution lingers in the air as you push open the doors to your lab room. Rows of benches stand in front of you each with stools tucked underneath, some already occupied. Jean is already inside, standing at a bench with his lab coat on and equipment set up neatly on the table. His eyes are focused down at an open book in front of him, a pen in hand as he skim reads the text. You smooth down the front of your own coat as you wind your way towards him, your lab guide and pencil case tucked in the crook of your elbow. His head turns in your direction when he hears your feet stopping next to him. 

“Hey,” you say, setting down your things carefully. You offer him a warm smile and lift your hand in a hesitant wave. “How are you?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, lips pursed. There’s no humour in his eyes when he speaks, “You’re late.” 

You frown, looking up at the clock on the wall above you. You’re right on time. “No, I’m not? Class hasn’t even started yet.”

He leans against the side of the bench with his body facing yours. Goosebumps raise the hair on your body when he looks you slowly up and down and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “We’re supposed to be here at least five minutes before to get set up.” His lips twist. “You’re lucky I’m here.”

It takes everything within you to not roll your eyes. A quick glance tells you that you’re definitely not the only one rocking up to class on the dot. Coming in early may technically be a rule for labs but it’s more of a suggestion than anything; no one actually takes that seriously. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you wave your hand dismissively. “I had to finish my drink before Levi would let me into the lab.” 

Jean shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he takes a seat. You catch something about priorities as he turns away to look back down at the contents of today’s lab. You stick out your tongue at him as you pull out a stool to sit down. It seems Jean’s sour attitude has not gotten any better and you’re going to be stuck with this again for the next three hours. 

Levi strides to the front of the room to begin the lab. “I trust you all read the pre reading for today’s class,” he begins, hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s an easy one today. We’re just running over the basics, looking at some slides in your microscopes and collecting some samples for you to analyse later.”

Beside you, Jean taps his pen against his paper softly. His pages are filled with underlines and annotations, unlike yours which are notably blank. He's wearing the same jeans and worn sneakers as Monday, but undeniably he looks good. His hair is loose and falling over his face, jaw clenched tight emphasising the sharp slope. His long legs rest under the bench, feet tapping on the ground, whereas yours dangle in the air, barely reaching. He catches your eye when you sneak a glance at him and his pen stills. He drops it down on the table and leans back, folding his arms in front of him, eyes on you as if in challenge. You turn your attention back to Levi, ears hot, hoping you don’t look as flushed as you feel. His eyes bore a hole into the side of your head and you can't ignore it, making you want to itch. Everyone around you starts moving when Levi announces the start of the lab and you perk up, eager to get started. In the corner of your eye, you see Jean move beside you.

“I’ve already got everything set up,” Jean says, getting up again, pointing at a microscope sitting on the bench. 

“Thanks.”

“I’ll do the swabs, can you get the petri dishes ready?” He asks, pulling a tray of tubes and sterile equipment between the two of you.

“Sure,” you reply, happy to have something to do. You don’t necessarily like being told what to do, but it’s nice that for once you’re not the one that has to take charge and lead the way.

You work together in surprising harmony and the hours fly by with little trouble. The few words you do speak to each other are direct and to the point, instructions more than anything. Jean makes no effort to make any small talk and you decide to just give him the same energy back. If nothing else, it keeps you efficient, letting you finish with half an hour to spare. Even Levi seems surprised when he comes around to check on you, giving a quick nod and permission to leave early once you’ve cleaned up after yourselves. It’s a relief, since your lack of breakfast is starting to catch up on you, the one piece of toast from Mikasa doing little now to satisfy your otherwise empty stomach. 

As you wipe down your bench, you clear your throat to get Jean’s attention. “So … we need to write a report on today’s lab. When do you want to meet up?”

Jean shrugs next to you, unplugging and packing away the microscope. “I don’t mind. How about tonight so we can do it while everything’s fresh?”

“That works for me,” you reply. “Might as well get it over and done with.”

He nods and closes his lab book. His name is written on the top corner of the cover in bold capital letters, the lines of the black ink sharp and jagged like a statement telling you “back off this book is mine!” It seems fitting, what with his standoffish attitude towards you. You’re afraid he might actually bite your head off if you dared to look at his notes. 

“Meet at the library after we’re done with lectures? I’ll be done by four.” You suggest.

“After four’s good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” 

His reply is all the confirmation you need and your head nods in a quick acknowledgement as you pick up your things to leave. 

“Okay, see you then.”

Today at 16:08

Jean Kirstein (bio guy): Hey, my lecture finished late. I’m heading to the library now. See you in 10 minutes.   You: no worries! i’m here already You: im on the 3rd floor in one of the study rooms Jean Kirstein (bio guy): [👍 reacted to your message] 

You place your phone back on the table. You’ve been in the library for the past hour, trying to make summary notes for the lectures you’ve had today. In reality, all you’ve been doing is killing time scrolling on social media while you wait until Jean is done. You sigh, opening up your word document again, side by side with the lecture slides. If you don’t get this done today, you’re going to regret it because you’re just going to fall behind with all the content and then you’ll never catch up. It's still only the first week of semester so you definitely can't afford to set the tone by slacking off already. You scroll through the notes you had taken during class and start adding the information you had missed, trying your best to write things in ways your future self will be able to understand. 

The sound of the door opening makes you jump and you look up from your screen to see Jean walking in. Instinctively, your back straightens and you sit up in your seat, immediately on high alert with his presence. He nods his head at you in greeting, setting his bag down on the table. Something feels different about him compared to when you saw him earlier this morning and you realise this is the first time you’re seeing him without a jacket on. His black T shirt hugs his frame, a little tight in the arms, emphasising the muscles which flex when he reaches up to remove his headphones. He places them down next to his bag and runs a hand through his hair to let it fall back into place. The hem of his shirt raises to reveal just a sliver of his abdomen - smooth skin with a light dusting of hair in the centre. Without you even realising, your lips part ever so slightly as you watch him with wide eyes. 

His voice breaks your trance. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s okay," you tell him, blinking innocently. "I’ve been here for the past hour anyway, just trying to finish my notes."

“Oh, nice,” he pulls out the chair next to you and takes a seat. “How was the rest of your day?”

You’re surprised. This is the first moment you can think of where Jean has asked you anything in order to get to know more about you. Could this be the start of a change in heart? 

“It was long,” you groan, slumping forward on your chair with your chin resting in your palms. “I can’t believe it’s only the third day. I wish it was the holidays again.” 

Jean tilts his head. His hair is tousled from the wind, strands framing his face, getting longer towards the back to graze the tops of his shoulders. He reaches into his bag, pulling out his laptop and lab guide. “What did you do during your break?”

Warmth fills you with his question. Maybe this really is the turning point in your brief acquaintanceship. You try not to let it show but you can feel the corners of your lips lift in a small smile as a flush warms your cheeks. “Nothing really! I went home to visit my family and just relaxed.” You fiddle with the edge of a sticker on your laptop. “How about you?”

Jean lets out an indifferent grunt. His eyes harden and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. “It was fine. I kept busy,” he says stiffly. He opens a new word document on his laptop and starts typing. 

You want to ask him more. You want to know more about him - anything really, just a crumb would be enough to satisfy you but he’s giving you nothing. He gives no indication of wanting to continue this conversation and honestly, this hot and cold from him is really cramping your style. You shift around on your seat, sucking air between your teeth. God, could he be any less awkward?

“Let’s do this on google docs. I’ll share it with you. You can work on talking about which samples we chose today,” he says, cutting the silence.

You nod in response. “Okay.”

The tension is killing you. You don’t know how you’re possibly going to make it through this study session. It was different earlier in the lab because you had both been so preoccupied with your own tasks, only interacting when needed, but now that you actually have to work together and collaborate? The air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The little angel on your shoulder tells you to be patient and stick it out, while the devil on the other side tells you to poke the bear and do whatever it takes to break the ice. 

You try to concentrate on your screen so you can get started on this lab report but you’re too hyper aware of his presence next to you.  You can barely even breathe, out of fear that the sound will be too loud, and you can’t sit still, the anxious energy overflowing from your limbs. A heavy sigh leaves you in a whoosh, your toes wriggling in your shoes and legs kicking restlessly under your seat. Your fingers come up to play with your necklace pendant, a family heirloom given to you by your father when you had started university. Although it’s normally your good luck charm, today it offers little comfort. Beside you, Jean’s fingers twitch from where they rest on his keyboard. One hand drops to his knee and slowly curls into a clenched fist. Your eyes flick up from following the movement to his face and you jolt at the way he’s scrutinising you. Soft lines crease his forehead as he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“Are you … okay?” He asks, flatly. It feels more like an insult to your character than a question of genuine concern. 

You deflate, sinking into the back of your seat. Your hands find each other, twisting your fingers together to seek some comfort. The tension in the room is palpable; it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just a little awkward that’s all,” you try to say with a light laugh. It sounds fake to your own ears. “Maybe we should get to know each other a little, since we’re gonna be spending so much time together.” 

Jean lets out a noncommital grunt. He leans forward to flick through his lab book, making an intentional effort to not meet your eyes. “I don’t see what the point is. It’s not like we’re friends.” 

Your movements still. It’s another strike through the heart. You have honestly never been rejected from bare minimum human decency like this before. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

“Oh…” you say dejectedly. “Never mind then I guess.” You shake your head, turning back to your screen, lips curving down in a pout. The light tapping of your fingers on your keyboard fills the room as you start typing, wanting to appear busy. “Not like I wanted to be friends with you anyway,” you mutter under your breath.

You sense Jean stiffen beside you. Yikes, you hadn’t meant for him to overhear that.

He doesn’t say anything, instead just continuing to go from reading through his notes to typing on the document. You watch as his words pop up on the document, reading them as they appear. He’s definitely smart, or at least he writes well and he knows what he’s talking about. You’re no slouch either though. You straighten up. Fine, two can play at this game. If he wants this to be strictly business then so be it. The sooner you pump out this report, the sooner you can go home. 

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are done. Barely half an hour passes before you’re sitting back, stretching out your arms, letting out a slight yawn. Jean scrolls through the pages, double checking your work. He seems satisfied, giving you the benefit of a quick nod before shutting his laptop. You follow his lead, closing your screen. You still haven’t finished your notes from before but you’re hungry and definitely in need of some dinner. 

Jean studies the stickers scattered over the outside cover of your laptop, sacred memorabilia of all your favourite things. His eyes linger on the worn pictures and slogans and his mouth opens slightly, as if on the edge of saying something. You self consciously run your hand across them, feeling the familiar smooth edges.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” You ask him, your last attempt today to make some small talk. 

“Nothing much. Might hit the gym then have dinner,” he responds.

“Oh cool,” you nod. “Yeah I’m gonna go home and eat something now too,” you tell him even though he doesn’t ask. 

He looks at you. His eyes focus on yours, different shades of brown pooling together sucking you into their depth as he searches your eyes. The faintest hint of stubble graces his jaw, the early stages of a five o’clock shadow that hadn’t been there when you first met him. You’re reminded again how little you know about him despite the years you’ve shared as classmates. Is he normally clean shaven? What does he do in his spare time? Does he have friends? Why does he have it out for you? You try to shake off the thoughts. Classic overthinking. This is the last thing you need to be worried about. Like he said, the two of you aren’t friends and have no need to be anything more. 

“Well, I better go now,” you say with a flourish as you get up. This is as much awkwardness as you can take for today. You can’t wait to go home and complain to Mikasa about how weird your interactions have been with Jean. 

“Sure. Thanks for the good work today.”  He says while unlocking his phone and scrolling through his notifications.

“Uh ... no problem. You too?” you drawl, making a face. Good work today? What is he - your boss? You get up and sling your bag over your shoulder. You lift your hand up in a small wave. “See you in class.”

His eyes follow you. The tips of his fingers lift in response, phone still in his hands. The corners of his mouth twitch up ever so slightly. “See you later.”

Shaking your head, you leave the room and close the door behind you. You quickly glance through the small window at Jean who hasn’t moved from looking down at his phone before turning away.

Man, what a weird guy.

you added bio guy to jean’s contact after he added his number just in case you forgot bc ur bad with names oops

jean is really a menace here im so sorry (am i?) 

[weebsinstash]

Ok so, about Heart of the Lycan King, right?

-protagonist and her pack are explicitly African which is cool!

-that's about where the pleasantries end. Her parents died when protagonist Natasha was 14 and she became a slave. Now 20, her Alpha and mate Mateo keeps their matehood a secret and makes Natasha strip naked and watch as he has sex with his girlfriend Camilla (appropriate name lmao) and this disgusting absolutely rancid fucking dickhead even forces Natasha to strip naked and watch and also suck him off after he's slept with Camilla and he even walks up and just blatantly pinches and twists her nipples for no reason until they're basically bruised (OUCH!!! KILL HIM!!!)

-Natasha has a naturally thick body so everyone calls her fat. She was naked and Camilla makes a comment that "maybe her tits are so saggy because someone is sucking on them" and Mateo literally drags still naked Natasha into the dining room where the pack is still eating and asks if anyone has touched her and they all call her fat and saggy and make fun of her, and then some fucking beta male parrots a rumor that Natasha sucks people off and Mateo is like visibly fucking jealous and furious? Over a rumor? And he even asks the guy "who" and the guy says "idk" and even when Natasha says "if I was sleeping wirh someone you would feel the pain I feel through the mate bond when you sleep with Camilla" (get his ass) and that kind of calms him down but he's STILL mad?

-the real reason Natasha is treated like shit besides being an Omega and an orphan is that her wolf is brown and white and there are myths that two toned wolves bring rhe destruction of whatever pack they're in so. They harass her over folktales

-there are werewolves AND lycans with the lycans being stronger which is usually the case in these stories. The lycans are slowly dying out because they don't have enough females and they usually die in childbirth so the lycans take unmated female werewolves every 3 years but most of them die too

- before they meet officially, we are introduced to the male lead a la switching to his POV. He's the current Lycan King named Aiden and he's a green flag so far, talking about how he yearns to find his mate to have a bond and that special love and affection, like he even says maybe he should visit human settlements to see if his mate is there, he doesn't care WHAT his mate it, he just wants to meet them and love them 🥺 meanwhile Natasha just got caught stealing money from Mateo's room to escape gnfjfkfkf AIDEN RESCUE HER SOON. Also he's a professional soccer player!

-Natasha is described as being a slightly darker skin tone than most of her pack, but then Aiden and Natasha are described as being the same skin tone which I like, almost all of these stories have exclusively white characters or white love interests. Tbh I expected him to be white hearing his name was Aiden so, some good rep in this story!

-Aiden walks in on Natasha mopping (thankfully, Aidens arrival kept Natasha from getting brutalized for being caught stealing since they need Natasha to help clean before the king gets there) while Camilla and Mateo berate her and Mateo almost hit Natasha right in front of the king before he noticed who else was in the room. Aiden is INSTANTLY incensed that this pack hits women even as he cannot tell Natasha is his mate yet. We Stan a king 🤴

-UH OH SISTERS WE GOT A TROPE REVERSAL! Aiden, walking up to Natasha, slips in one of the puddles of water, quote "making some weird sounds as i try to steady myself, flailing my arms, positive im about to kiss the floor" (DWEEB lmao) when Natasha catches him from falling (and it's emphasized her hands are rough and calloused from years of work)

-THEY BOTH FALL AND SLIP N SLIDE ACROSS THE FLOOR TOGETHER AND HE HUGS HER SO SHE DOESN'T HIT HER HEAD 🥺

-it's touching and meeting her eyes for the first time that finally jolts the mate bond. Hearing him describe the mate bond is such a huge green flag all around. "It's like I've been asleep all this time and I just woke up, experiencing the greatest joy I've ever felt in my life" like he loves the bond and he loves her so much and he doesn't know her name. I know sometimes the mate bonds can be creepy but there's also something so pure about the love you know 🥺 when everything goes right anyways

-"I knew that I would absolutely die for this woman. In seconds, this woman became essential to my entire being. I was existing but I wasn't alive, now im living, finally I'm whole" 😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️ and then he notices she's crying in fear and she has bruises and instantly asks who did it to her. NOW KILL HER PACK BRO DO IT DO IT DO IT--

-BRUH no hate but the female narrator, the voice she uses for Aidens wolf, Leo, way too deep, she just sounds like she's about to try and make the Grudge a-a-a-a broken neck sound. Listening to Leo speak is literally cracking me tf up

-Dumbass fucking Camilla steps forward, "oh your eminence, she's just so clumsy :) she trips and falls all the time, isn't that right Natasha" and Aiden lets Natasha walk away as he vows he's going to find out what's going on and take her away

-yall uh Natashas wolf is actually fucking useless. Natasha herself says her wolf barely ever even speaks to her and Natasha is like "do you think we can trust him as our mate" and this depressed fucking mutt deadass responds "no one has ever loved us and no one ever will" YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE HER FRIEND AND PROTECTOR? Honestly Natasha is a better person than me bc I would've started hating this wolf already. Its your fault Natasha gets treated like this you cowardly fucking oreo

-Aiden starts calling her '"Nala" which is Swahili for present/gift because "you are my gift, my everything"

-maaaaan so usually you guys know depending on the circumstances that I'm not a real big fan of the removal of consent in some of these stories but we got a green flag kidnapper right here. Aiden is outside with Natasha about to take her away and she's like "can't you just reject me here? You don't have to take me somewhere" and starts TELLING HIM "no you don't want me, I'm cursed, I am not worthy of love" and Aiden is just like "ok well, im really sorry but you're really not going to like this" and just. Scoops her up and prepares to kidnap her (GOOD) but they keep talking and she agrees to give him a chance (but he can tell she doesn't trust him and has some kind of plan and is probably going to run away when his backbis turned)

-Aiden is about to drive off with Natasha when Mateo, fucking cuck runs up "actually I lied, Natasha is still my mate, I didn't reject her" you absolute fucking liar. This absolute fucking moron has the gall to tell Aiden to his face "I already have a woman as my Luna but I didn't reject Natasha so she could have a place to stay, a cursed wolf isn't good enough for you, you dont deserve that BITCH" TRANSITION INTO AN INSTANT ASS BEATING

-except Natasha is too much of a good woman and saves Mateo from getting hurt before Aiden hurts him that badly :/ gdi girl. He's literally been sexually assaulting and beating you. Idiot. Idiot. Absolute idiot. Nevermind, Mateo is correct Aiden IS too good for her. This dumb bitch actually starts up this "you're just the same as them, solving things with violence. This is MY fight" like obviously no it is not, you literally had a perfect escape plan put right in front of your face coupled with the opportunity to teach your abusers a lesson and you went "🥺 no I can't trust anyone I'll just flee into the night with no food or money or place to go" like obviously you were never intending to fight anything you were just going to run. Like I'm actually getting fucking furious she has the gall to talk to Aiden like this when she's literally been paraded around naked

-"no one has ever helped me or looked out for me so why would I trust you" idk maybe because it's literally your fucking destiny and within 5 seconds of meeting you he very quite literally said "I don't care if this pack bring in the most money in the country, I WILL burn it to the ground for whats been done to her" like you actual fucking moron Natasha, you are bringing me physical fucking pain like girl he's literally being morw supportive of you than your wolf

I'm at work right now and my earbuds died so I can't listen to any more while they're charging but, it's a pretty interesting story so far! I dunno if I'll listen to the end since it's over 100 chapters and that very easily gets expensive but, I'll stay tuned for now and share any juicy details with you guys :) I still have to finish my post about The Silent Alpha because oh my god guys that shit is getting WILD

[beyondspaceandstars]

That Black Tee

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, fingers, slight metal arm kink, sex against a wall, semi-public sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: It was such a simple thing. Just a simple black tee-shirt. But the way Bucky wore it had you practically melting -- and he seemed to realize it, happily granting your needs A/N: idk guys there was just something about that black tee-shirt bucky wore in episode 4 of TFATWS. it got my mind wandering. and i love practicing writing smut i hope im getting better at it lmao

Masterlist

You knew you absolutely, utterly fucked the second Bucky took off his jacket, revealing that damn black tee.

So simple yet so fitting, so accentuating. He looked casual and cool yet incredibly powerful and dominant with that metal arm fully on display thanks to the short sleeves. Between that damn shirt and the hard expression he wore, you were pretty much done for. It took all you might to not march over to him right that second.

Bucky appeared to be aware of all this as he turned to you, feeling your eyes wandering shamelessly over him in that shirt. He just looked so… him. Not a soldier, not some asset, just him. And he was hot.

He shot you a little smirk, making your eyes widen, suddenly unreasonably worried your boyfriend could read your mind.

You two must’ve been too caught up in your silent communication because the next thing you heard was Sam asking if you were okay.

You jumped and forced yourself to look away from Bucky. "Yeah, Sam," you nodded, "I’m fine."

He hummed, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

But before you could answer, Bucky felt it was his time to chime in. "She’s a little distracted."

Your eyes widened again, this time sending a signal to your boyfriend to shut the hell up. He wouldn’t look at you and instead just laughed to himself.

"Distracted?" Sam questioned.

"I- I’m fine, really-,"

Bucky cut you off, "Actually, I need to talk with her about something."

Your jaw went slack as you tried finding some words of explanation, something to save yourself from this situation as you could see Sam’s concern growing. But nothing was able to come out before Bucky was grabbing your hand.

"You can’t talk to her out here?" Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, profusely. "It’s a very private matter. Incredibly serious. Just between me and her."

"Bucky-," you just about yelped as he started walking to one of the off-shoot rooms from the living space. Sam tried asking more questions but Bucky promptly shut him down by slamming the door. Hard. It was a miracle the thing didn’t just fall right off its hinges. For whatever reason, that suddenly turned you on even more.

You stood there in the middle of the room watching as Bucky slowly turned to you. He had a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took in your nervous yet needy state. Your thighs were practically in pain from how hard you were trying to squeeze them together, wanting some relief to your core that was set ablaze by him. Him and that damn outfit. That damn hair. His damn face- God, you just needed your boyfriend right now.

Bucky walked towards you slowly, intensely. You tried averting your eyes to save yourself from crumbling but he stopped you. His fingers came to your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He appeared to be just as eager.

"What happened back there, doll?" He asked just barely above a whisper. He held your chin firmly.

"What- What do you-,"

He chuckled. The fucker chuckled at your flustered state. "What do I mean? I mean that look you were giving me. How those eyes were peeling off my clothing piece by piece. Made me want to take you right there."

Bucky’s words went straight to your core. The wetness was pooling profusely, practically soaking through your jeans. You let out a little whimper as his thumb brushed over your lip.

"It’s your tee-shirt," you whispered, surprised that you could even find any sort of words in your dazed brain. He was way too intoxicating.

Bucky’s face shifted in surprise. "My shirt?"

You nodded. "It just… looks good on you."

He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle. You pouted at his reaction which he took as the opportunity to quickly place a kiss on your lips. You tried moving into him, grinding your body with his to beg for more, but he stopped, forcing you two apart.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled as his hand left your chin and slowly made its way down your body. Over the curve of your clothed breast, down your stomach, to your hips… the hand finally dipped under the waistline of your jeans. Without much warning, two fingers traced your folds, dipping slightly in to collect the wetness. He gave a few thrust, teasingly. Bucky groaned. "You’re this wet just from how I look in my shirt?"

You gasped, nodding. Embarrassment wanted to coarse through you but the pleasure from Bucky tracing his fingers to your clit was too much. Slowly, he started with circular motions, making your body jolt. You squealed in surprise. Bucky smiled down at your reaction.

He kept it up, adding pressure every now and then as he continued. Your legs began to shake forcing you to grip his arms in support. Bucky noticed this and brought his metal hand to your hip, steadying you.

He picked up the pace, his eyes boring into yours intensely. You let out a breathy moan at the sight of him, looking at you so hungry and aroused.

"Come on, honey, cum for me," he mumbled, still working on your clit. Every now and then he’d stop to dip a finger in as if gaging your wetness. In those moments you’d groan, waiting for the contact to come back. He never let you suffer long, though, finding his way back to your clit quickly, keeping the pressured motions. "Be a good girl and cum for me, doll, and I’ll fuck you real nice against the wall just like you deserve."

That was the final straw. His words alone practically sent you over the edge. Your body shook as the first orgasm pulled through you, lighting fire throughout your body. Your hips bucked and twisted uncontrollably, almost trying to get away from the touch but Bucky didn’t lighten up. He worked you through it, whispering sweet praises in your ear, making you lose it even more.

Once you came down from the high, Bucky wasted absolutely no time gripping your hips and pushing your back to the nearest wall. You yelped in surprise before his lips attached to yours, rough and demanding.

He lifted you up and grabbed your legs, circling them around your waist. You took the opportunity to grind into him feeling his erection hit your covered core. It lit a new fire in you making you gasp at the feeling.

Bucky moved his lips down your face to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You whined and grabbed onto that fucking tee shirt, still trying to push into him, wordlessly begging him to speed up.

"Eager, doll?" Bucky asked. You could practically hear the dumb smile on his face and it made you want to slap it off. But all you could do in response was nod.

He placed one more kiss on your lips before his hand made its way back down your body. This time he popped the buttons of your jeans open. Briefly, he placed you back down to pull your jeans to your ankles. When that task was done, you were back wrapped around his waist, now feeling the erection more prominently. You let out a deep, uncontrollable moan when it hit.

As if he understood your annoyance, Bucky quickly undid his own jeans. In your dazed state, you must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, your panties were just pushed to the side and his cock was breaching your walls. You two were in sync letting our moans and groans at the warmth, the wetness.

His arms held you tight as he began his thrusts, so precise and strong. You were backed into the wall forcefully, enjoying the pressure and pleasure combining into one. Your boyfriend groaned above you, sounds going right to your core which was made evident by the squelching sounding in the room.

Bucky kept his thrusts up as his metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. His body held you up with his other arm, giving you a second to marvel in his strength. It was always such a treat when it came out in the bedroom. How he could hold you down or hold you up had your mind spinning half the time.

As his thrusts began to pick up, his metal hand started with the circular motions again on your clit. The coldness meeting your warmth was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands fisted his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. You let out a surprised moan at the whole sensation which Bucky seemed to like as he gripped you harder. Your brain was going fuzzy, drunk even, as he pounded you into the wall flawlessly.

"Bucky… B-Bucky…" you choked out.

"Hmm?" You could tell he was staring at you despite your eyes being fluttered shut. He was taking in every inch of your face contorting in glorious pleasure. It seemed to drive his thrusts faster, the circular motions on your clit picking up as well.

"I- I’m gonna-,"

"You gonna cum again, doll?" He asked, a little mockingly. You would’ve bit back if you weren’t in this state but you couldn’t do anything, just take what he was giving. You nodded weakly. "Alright, honey, that’s it… Cum for me, come on. I got you."

It was like Bucky flipped that last switch as his strength and speed picked up. You yelped, clinging to his shirt even tighter.

One final push on your clit was all you needed before you were crumbling in his arms. Your body shook as your orgasm flooded you with ecstasy. Bucky didn’t want to let up with the trusts, though, chasing his own orgasm and thoroughly working you through your second. He kept pounding, his hand opting to leave your clit to grope at your breasts under your shirt. The metal hitting your skin in a new place made you squeal again.

The sounds and motions were it for Bucky as the next thing you knew, he released inside you, coating your walls and thrusting in and out, letting it leak onto your skin. You moaned at the sensation.

Bucky gave a couple more weak thrusts before he let out a final groan and stilled inside you. Both his arms now were around your waist, pulling you close as you two panted, coming down from the pleasure.

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Your hands left his shirt and came up to his hair, where you ran them through his short locks.

"Was that what you needed, doll?" He asked, voice breaking through the heaviness of the room.

You giggled, "Exactly what I needed."

"Hmm," he sighed and straightened back up. He pecked your lips. "Guess I gotta wear this shirt more often."

You gasped, slapping his chest lightly as he laughed. But you couldn’t totally disagree. "I wouldn’t complain if it made an appearance every now and then."

Bucky shook his head, "I don’t understand how a black tee shirt can get you going, doll."

After he spoke, he slowly removed himself from you, letting you down from the wall. Warm wetness began soaking your thighs feeling so intimate, so hot, it almost made you almost suggest round two right then and there but that didn’t seem on the table after Bucky handed you some tissues to clean up. Not to mention the fact there were people in the living area.

You shrugged, readjusting your shirt and pulling your jeans back on. You watched as Bucky also readjusted his appearance. "It’s because it’s on you," you insisted. "You could walk around in the most ridiculous outfits and I’d still beg you to jump my bones."

Bucky let out the most joyous laugh at that. He walked back towards you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed a kiss on his lips, which he hummed happily into.

"I’m flattered," he mumbled. The light blush across his cheeks confirmed his words.

You smiled, "What can I say? I got a hot boyfriend and he should know it."

Bucky placed another kiss on your lips. "Oh, trust me, I think he knows it now."

You let out a giggle and pulled away from his grip, despite a little protest. "Come on," you said and motioned towards the door, "we should probably leave this room before we get any shit from them."

"Oh, you’re getting a lot of shit once you come out of that room," Sam called from the other side of the door, making both you and Bucky jump. "Might as well stay in here."

You groaned at the words, your face and neck suddenly becoming hot in embarrassment. Bucky just chuckled, somehow finding everything amusing, and wrapped an arm around you.

"Worth it, though," he whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t at all argue. Just glancing between the wall and that black tee made you suddenly hot and bothered all over again.

Bucky picked up on your gaze, once again practically reading your mind. With a suggestive smirk, he asked, "Round two?"

You bit your lip as his hand began running over the curve of your ass.

"Fine."

Bucky didn’t waste a single second before whisking you off your feet

[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!

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

hiii!!! can i request a hange x reader fic where they are having a being intimate or having a moment and Levi walks in. and is like wtf. but praises hange on their choice of women? ( could you use a mix of they and she for hange please!)

Absolutely!

I just know Levi would be the type to act disgusted, but internally he's actually really happy for Hange that they finally found somebody :')

Quickly

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff, a little smut but they get caught lmao

Summary: Hange is busy doing work when their S/O comes to visit them, so they let them stay for a bit. But, as soon as they get to fooling around, Hange realizes they forgot to lock the door.

Words: 1.9K

"Knock knock."

You push the door to Hange's office open casually, not even waiting for any sort of confirmation from them that you were allowed in—after all, Hange never said 'no' to any of your visits. It was essentially your office too now, since she had given you a spare key to "come over whenever you'd like and for whatever reason you'd like". You understood the implications of what she was saying, but pushed the thought to the back of your mind, accepting the key graciously.

"Ah, hello Y/n." Their voice echoed through the room, their back turned as she fiddled with some equipment and papers on her desk, working vigorously as usual. You shut the door behind you, stretching your arms above your head as you strolled over to your lover.

Your arms wrapped around her waist from behind the second you got close enough, burying your head in their neck—a cheeky way of getting their attention that never once failed.

"Baby, I'm working." She chuckled in mock protest, but based off of how quickly they dropped their tools and looked up from their papers, you doubted she was planning on stopping you.

"I know," You breathe against her neck, slowly and meticulously luring them further and further from her work. "But I missed you~."

"What do you want?" Hange suddenly asked. It wasn't in annoyance, but a genuine question. "Do you want something in particular?"

You sat there silently against her shoulder for a moment, pondering. What did you come here for? Mostly, you were just bored and lonely—stable duty wasn't the most appealing job—but you didn't have anything planned when you came over.

"I dunno..." You mumble. "Just wanted to see you..."

Hange chuckled, freeing herself from your grasp and turning to face you. "That's fine." They say, hooking their arms around your lower back to pull you up, and you wrap your legs around her waist as she starts walking.

After a few seconds, she'd sat down, and you heard the distinct scratching of the chair against the floor as she scooted forward. You were in their lap now, body pressed up against hers so closely that you could feel the rise and fall of their chest with each steady breath. They'd already scooted the chair up as close to their work desk as they could, and even your lower back was pressed semi-uncomfortably against her wooden desk, you didn't mind at all. Your legs were to either side of her, and you faced the back wall blankly.

"We can stay like this for a while." She muttered, her left hand slowly rubbing up and down your back while her right picked up the pen and started to fill out the stack of paperwork on her desk. You chuckled—Hange's inability to pry themselves from their work was evident as always.

You settled down, your breaths leveling to slow, easy pace as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, finding deep solace and tranquility in her embrace. Your eyes shut against her, and you slowly breathed in their scent. It was very distinct—somewhat musky, yet also smelling of ink and fresh paper. The tension evaporated from your muscles as you sunk further into them, the warmth of their body and the gentle rhythm of their heartbeat lulling you to sleep in her arms.

After a certain amount of time—you weren't quite sure how long—something stirred you awake, and a groan involuntarily left your lips as your eyes peeled open.

You were still in the chair, and in Hange's embrace, but the sound of pen on paper had ceased, and you could only assume that they had finished their a while back.

Her face was now pressed into your shoulder, and both of her hands had snaked under your shirt and onto the bare skin of your back. If you didn't know better, you'd assume she was asleep, but you heard a soft chuckle pass your lover's lips, the exhalation brushing warm air against the nape of your neck.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Are my hands too cold?" She spoke gently and quietly, a stark contrast to her usually loud tone. She didn't want to bother you with her usual loudness immediately after you had woken up.

"Now that you mention it, a little." You mumble, closing your eyes in a vain attempt at getting more rest.

"Sorry. Here, I'll move them." They make good on their words, removing their hands from yours and moving them up to your head, pulling it up from her shoulder. She cups your face in her hands, one side in each palm, and pulls you towards her face for a chaste kiss on the lips.

Finally starting to wake up, you move your lips back to hers after a moments hesitation. They return the kiss eagerly, hands moving to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Their lips are warm and soft against yours. Perhaps a little chapped, but you had long gotten used to the feeling.

Teasingly, Hange moves her hands down, letting them slink to your waist, purposefully dragging of the sides of your breasts on the way down. Their tongue left their mouth, dragging up your bottom lip teasingly.

You pull away in shock, wiping the small trail of saliva connecting the two. "H-Hange—!"

They lean their head back, letting out a hearty laugh. "Sorry, I just wanted to see what you would do!"

Despite playing it off as a joke, her hands never left your hips. In fact, their grip only tightened.

"Unless..." She teased, hands slowly riding up, causing your shirt to rise and expose your stomach. "You want to keep going?"

A pink tint rises to your cheeks as your shirt continued to rise up your stomach, Hange's eyes shamelessly staring down at your exposed skin, thoroughly enjoying the view.

"Hange~," You whined, squirming under their grasp and trying in vain to fight off the tingle in the pit of your stomach. "We're on duty, stop being horny!" You laughed, causing Hange to giggle as well.

"What's the harm in it? I've down my work, and so have you... You locked the door on the way in, you nobody'll catch us anyway. I'll be quick about it~..."

You sighed, debating on whether it's really worth it. After all, captain Levi would surely chew you out for it if he caught you and Hange getting frisky. But the door was locked, so you decided it would be alright. Just this once.

"Fine..." You sigh, "Just be quick about it."

Hange's eyes lit up with excitement at your permission, immediately pulling your shirt up, not taking it off completely, but pulling it up enough to expose your breasts, still hidden by your bra.

Hange's lips went to your chest almost instantly, peppering the area with brief kisses. Her hand slunk lower, cupping your crotch in her hand, causing you to hiss in a breath of air.

Her lips detach from your chest with a pop, smirking at you before moving up to gaze at your face—flushed and slight sweating from arousal.

She swooped in to kiss you, lips connecting with yours and moving against each other passionately. Slowly, but deliberately, her hand moved up and down, grinding against your clit through your clothing, making you squirm with impatience.

You whimpered quietly, the sound being muffled by Hange's mouth against yours. The two of you separated for a very brief moment, breathing heavily as saliva connected your lips, before you dove right back in, kissing more fervently than before.

Finally, you two pulled away, catching your breaths amongst the grips of passion. Panting, you put your forehead to theirs, smiling against her.

"I love you Hange." You exhaled, your warm breath teasing Hange's wet and parted lips.

"I love you too." She panted, emphasizing her point by grinding her hand against you a bit more forcefully this time, the pleasure causing you to moan quietly, spurring Hange on. "So hurry up and take your pants off."

You obey immediately, almost as if your body was moving on its own, unzipping your pants, preparing to slide out of them until a subtle noise behind you caught your attention. You turned your head in confusion, and your eyes widened at the sight of captain Levi, clearly unamused, in the doorway.

"L-Levi... Hi!" You sputter, fumbling desperately with the zipper of your pants in a desperate attempt to play off the situation. But it was too late, the damage had already been done.

Levi stared for a moment, his usual dead, unamused face ever so prominent. Finally, after a silence that felt like eternity, he sighed, stepping towards the desk.

He plopped down a stack on papers on Hange's desk, causing a few loose papers to blow from her desktop and onto the floor.

"You're on duty, Hange. You too, Y/n." He deadpans. "Now is not the time nor the place to be doing... this."

You look to the side out of embarrassment, pulling your shirt back down as you refused to meet his eye.

"Hange, Erwin needs these filled out by next week. Stop fooling around with Y/n and get it done."

"I-I apologize Levi, I'll get it done as soon as possible." Hange cleared her throat, trying her best not to sound affected, but her wavering voice betrayed her, clearly slightly embarrassed.

He scoffed as he turned his back, walking out as if this were a normal occurrence. "Yeah, yeah. I don't really care anyway, just make sure this gets done. And don't make a mess, either." He says, eyeing the clear disarray of the room.

He turns to leave, but stops in the frame of the door, turning to give Hange a side-eyed glance. "But, you know, for everyone in the Survey Corps, you chose a pretty good woman." He states, shutting the door immediately after his statement, preferring not to witness the calamity.

Hange breaks out into a fit of giggles while your entire face heats up into a red blush of embarrassment.

"Of all that," Hange sputters in between giggles. "Of all that, he chooses to focus on 'my choice of women'?!"

Meanwhile, you bury your face in your hands, wishing you could just sink into the floor and never be seen again. "I thought I locked the door..."

"I guess not, darling." They tease, planting a purposefully short kiss to the edge of your jawline. This time, you're more firm in your stance, taking a hand and putting it on her forehead, gently pushing them away from your neck.

"Nuh-uh! Not this time, Levi said you have work to do." You manage to regain your confidence enough to push Hange away.

"Ughhhh, fine." They groan dramatically, gently pushing you off their lap as they scoot their chair to their desk.

"You act as if it's your life support. You can go an hour without sex, Hange."

"Impossible." Hange retorts back immediately, a joking tone to her voice.

"Right," You sigh, stretching your arms above your head, "Anyway, I'm gonna take a nap on the couch." You plop down on the cushiony fabric, making yourself comfortable before pulling a blanket up to your shoulders.

"Okay," Hange's voice echoes from across the room. "Just don't be upset if I wake you up later."

You scoff quietly at the remark, rolling onto your side and closing your tired eyes. "You dork. I'm going to sleep. Love you."

"Love you, too." They reply immediately, ignoring the papers on her desk, staring at you instead.

You'd already fallen asleep—your exhaustion from the day catching up to you—and Hange took the moment to admire your beauty as you slept peacefully.

"I'll be waiting right here when you wake up, okay?"

This also isn't proofread, I have an appointment early tomorrow morning and I don't wanna fall asleep halfway through :'D

Hope you enjoyed anyway!

[hufflautia]

Oblivious

Summary: Hufflepuff is smacked with the realization that he’s oblivious—literally.

~~

Hufflepuff walked through the halls with Slytherin while telling her what happened today.

“She said she’s liked me for months!” he gestured around with his hands. Slytherin took in his words with an odd feeling settling in her chest. It wasn’t exactly comforting to hear another girl pining over her best friend who she’s had a crush on since third year.

“I can’t believe I never got the hint,” Hufflepuff continued as they came to a stop in front of the Slytherin common room. “I’m so oblivious sometimes. A girl could smack me on the head and I wouldn’t realize she was into me.”

Slytherin, who had been leaning against the wall across from him, walked over and smacked his head.

“Ow!” Hufflepuff stared at her, his brows knitted. “What the hell was that for?!”

Looking slightly amused, she stared back at him expectantly. But when he said “What?”, her smile faded.

“Are you serious?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Her expression hardening, she shook her head. “You really are oblivious,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

Hufflepuff watched as she put in the password to her common room. He stared at her back, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong. Why did she get so angry all of a sudden?

Slytherin stepped through and was about to shut the door in his face when it suddenly clicked. Hufflepuff quickly stuck his foot through the small opening before she could close the door.

“Wait!”

There was a pause, and he heard a sigh. The door inched open enough for him to see her cold expression. Guilt washed over him.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his hand still pressed against the wood of the door. “I just realized what you meant and fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner, it completely flew over my head. I don’t know if you still—...well, if you’d like to—.... I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, but I…” He stopped when he saw how confused she looked. He had a tendency to ramble on and on when he was nervous.

Hufflepuff took a deep breath and exhaled. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

He held his breath, waiting for her response. Her expression was unreadable, and he felt a cold drip of panic. Shit, what if she was just joking before? Maybe I read it all wrong, she—

Before Hufflepuff could react, Slytherin flung the door open and kissed him. Their teeth clashed at first, and he had to grab the side of the doorway to steady himself from the sudden force of impact.

But he didn’t care. Not one bit.

Hufflepuff leaned forward when she pulled away, his lips trying to follow hers. He slowly opened his eyes to see Slytherin staring back at him, her eyes soft.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she whispered.

He blinked, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Damn,” he breathed. “I really am oblivious.”

A/N: Hey lovelies! First of all, thank you for 900!! I made a separate post to give my thanks, but I thought I should do it again <3

Secondly, happy one-year anniversary to Chapter 2 of the slytherpuff series (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ I just realized this today when I checked the date that I posted Chapter 2 (it was truly out of the blue lmao I was curious) - it was actually on July 3rd but that's ok! Speaking of the series, I'm currently working on chapter 5 - stay tuned for that (maybe in the coming weeks?? I don't know, I have work and it's truly a drag).

Anyways, I came up with this fic idea in MARCH but I didn’t have the time to write it until now. It’s inspired by a reddit post that someone had screenshotted and pasted on Tumblr with some commentary and was then posted on Insta, which is where I found it. I wish I could link the reddit post but I’m unable to access it via reddit. I’ll add the screenshot I took below!

Check out my masterlist and lemme know what you thought of this one-shot! Feedback makes me happy <3 If you prefer to stay anonymous, the anon option for asks is available. Thanks for reading!

Tag lists are open✨ Let me know via ask/messages/comments if you want to be added or removed.

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[t-lostinworlds]

Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.

It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.

You two get it done right away in the right way.

You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.

But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.

"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.

On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.

"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—

"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."

Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.

And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.

With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.

"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.

"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.

Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.

He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.

"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.

With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.

Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.

"Come here and give me one last kiss."

"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"

You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.

"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.

"Places you two!" Jessica called out.

Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.

You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.

The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.

"Ready and action!"

You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.

"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.

"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.

"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.

Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.

Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.

"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.

Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.

Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.

"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.

The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.

Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.

"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.

"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."

Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.

"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.

Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.

"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."

"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.

"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.

Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.

"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.

"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.

"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.

But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.

"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.

"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.

It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.

But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.

At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."

All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.

Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.

You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.

You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."

Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.

Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.

"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.

Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.

You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.

Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.

"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."

"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.

You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.

"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."

"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.

"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"

Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.

"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"

"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.

"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.

"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."

"Aw, thanks bro—"

"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."

"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.

"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."

You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.

"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"

With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.

"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."

You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.

"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."

***

It was finally time to get back to the hotel.

You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.

The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.

"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.

A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.

Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.

"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.

"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him

"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.

"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.

Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:

"Just let me take care of you."

A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.

Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.

In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.

He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.

Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.

"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.

"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.

"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.

"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.

With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.

The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,

"Tom, what if—"

"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.

"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.

With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."

Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.

"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.

Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."

You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.

With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—

"Not going anywhere."

-:-:-:-:-

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[damerondala]

Suture Up Your Future

i was watching reservoir dogs last night and that scene in the beginning with mr. orange is so intense i wanted to write some bad batch AnGst that mirrors it (and yes, the title is a queens of the stone age song, im really just snatching ideas from everybody huh lol). im also not too knowledgeable about trauma wounds like this and how to patch them up, but i did my best so pls be nice lmao im a sensitive bitch

Pairing: Platonic Bad Batch x Gender Neutral Reader / Platonic Tech x Gender Neutral Reader 

Warnings: adult dialogue, severe wounds and blood loss, wound suturing, sad batch ™ but with a happy ending! yay! 

Word Count: approx. 1.4k 

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Say it for me, Tech.” You were met with an agonistic cry instead of the words you needed the trooper to say. Not only to reassure himself, but you as well. “Say it,” you nearly screamed while he lay there bleeding out, “You’re going to be okay, fucking say it. You’re going to be okay.” 

“I,” a sharp intake of breath made his chest heave and a new wave of fresh blood come out of his gaping wound, covering your hands in the warm substance, “‘m guh be oh-okay.” 

“There we go, come on Tech, come on buddy breathe for me.” 

~

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you woke up that day. Hunter asked if you wanted to stay on the Marauder while he, Tech, and Crosshair went on a supply run. Hunter sang his reassurances to you, fully knowing you had a point when you reminded him that this planet was not the most welcoming place for outsiders. Especially the army of the Republic. But Hunter made sure they had civilian clothing to disguise themselves; this was the closest planet you all could get to at the moment, with the little fuel you had, after all. “In and out, just like that,” the sergeant cooed with a snap of his fingers to enunciate the last word of his promise. 

Echo, Wrecker, and yourself gave your best wishes to the group, then retreated back to the hull of the beloved ship. Echo toying with a new prosthetic he and Tech had been working on, Wrecker subjecting poor Gonky to yet another workout, and you occupied yourself with some tidying up. Maker knows that five busy soldiers plus one even busier medic, patching up said soldiers on a regular basis, equaled a filthy ship that was in dire need of some elbow grease. 

What none of you had expected however, was the very early return of the three bad batchers, one of them being supported by the other two. Barely able to walk and blood leaking out of his abdomen. 

Panic set in your gut upon the sight. Wrecker and Echo already in front of you, screaming their concerns and questions while you scrambled back into the ship to clear the table that was littered with empty dishes and Tech’s projects, then sprinting to your medkit to snag the supplies you’d need to treat a wound such as this. Returning to the table just as Wrecker set his vod down on the flat surface that, might you add, was much too small for his six-four frame and much too dirty for the situation at hand, but would have to do. Considering the severity of the scene before you. Tech had an enormous gash — you guessed from some sort of large knife — that ran from the bottom of his left ribs all the way to the front of his abdomen, ending just above his bellybutton. 

“Fucking bounty hunters,” Crosshair growled from behind you but you couldn’t afford to pay him any mind, Tech was damn near about to bleed to death if you didn’t act quick. You could curse the people who did this to your friend later. “Echo, he’s going to need more blood. Get Wrecker hooked up to the blood draw.” You ordered while applying pressure to the gash, Tech’s blood slowing at the contact, but still steadily seeping through your fingers. Normally Wrecker would pout about being hooked up to a machine but the sight of his friend dancing with death made him move quicker than any of you had ever seen, ripping his shirt sleeve up so Echo could begin drawing blood. 

The scene felt like a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, one that never stopped no matter how badly you wished you could just wake up and it would all be over. Instead, you were sweating through your shirt, a few tears stained your cheeks, and you were fucking covered in blood; Tech’s blood, to make the matter even more chilling. Everything happened so fast, you desperately wished you had gone on the run instead of Tech. Maybe that way you could all be sitting around this table, playing cards and giggling at Echo and Wrecker’s bickering over who’s cheating by now. 

“What do you need me to do?” Hunter stepped to your side, prepared to do anything in order to save the youngest of the squad. “Get the gauze and alcohol out of my pack.” You threw your head in the direction of the stocked medpack sitting on the table near Tech’s legs. Hunter opened the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to you, Crosshair on the other side of the table taking the gauze from Hunter’s hand. Ready to stuff the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding more until you could properly suture him up. Dumping the alcohol inside the gash caused Tech to gasp, eyebrows furrowing and body going taut at the pain you inflicted on him. You pleaded with him to relax and help you in reassuring himself that he would be fine. Both you and Hunter continuing the verbal comfort while Crosshair unraveled the pristine white gauze and began shoving it into Tech’s side, dying it crimson almost immediately. The pressure from both yours and Crosshair’s hands did a good job at stopping the blood loss, just enough so you could begin really cleaning him up and sewing his abdomen back together. Hunter helped with handing you the needle and thread and you began puncturing Tech’s skin and pulling the thread through the tissue. 

Cries and mumbles of curses came from Tech’s lips, his face paler than any of you had ever seen before. “Shhh…eh..it,” Tech groaned as you diligently worked at his stomach. You silently thanked whatever celestial  power that was out there for slowing down the blood flow to a much more manageable pace. Crosshair’s efforts clearly paid off, you mentally noted, as you watched his steady marksman hands slowly remove the gauze while you advanced with your stitching. 

“Blood transfusion is ready,” Echo suddenly appeared, ready to start replenishing the blood Tech had lost. “Just in time,” you managed a half-smile, not entirely sure of where it came from. But looking back, you think it was out of hope. 

Tech’s glazed eyes silently caught the way your mouth curled up and he was infinitely grateful for it. To him — and the other members of the squad — you were a beacon of light in the cruel and unforgiving war you all were in the midst of. It was easy to let the darkness and the violence consume them, but the second you joined their squad as their senior medic, there was that sudden sense of hope; you were something that made all of it even more worth it. 

The entire procedure of fixing up your friend honestly was a blur for the most part. One second they were dragging Tech’s limp and bloody body up the ramp, the next you all found yourselves slumped into chairs, over crates, hell, you were nearly passed out from exhaustion on the floor next to the table Tech was splayed out on. His wound clean and stitched to near perfection, and Wrecker’s blood slowly being pumped back into his veins, bringing that beautiful, healthy tan back to his features. 

Being so tired led you to neglect the dried blood all over your arms and shirt. In your haze, you remember Wrecker gently grasping your biceps and heaving you off the grimy ground, urging you to wash up and change. When you began to protest, the gentle giant rubbed up and down your arms in an effort to persuade you, “He’ll be fine, kid. You stitched him up real good. Plus, you know how queasy he gets with blood. He’d want you to get cleaned up.” Just as the final syllable left his mouth, you felt the soft cotton of your extra shirt being brushed against your forearm, Crosshair’s arm extended to you from his place on a ration crate with a nod in your direction. A silent way of showing you he agreed with his older brother — we got him, don’t worry. 

Your squad member’s wisdom proved to be true. Stepping out of the fresher in a new shirt sans sweat stains and blood, and your skin nice and clean, you were greeted with the sight of everybody crowding around their youngest vod still laying on the table. Weaseling your way in between Hunter and Echo, you found Tech awake. Albeit less sharp than he usually is, but still awake. Breathing. Fucking alive. The weight of dread that had been crushing your chest was suddenly gone, letting your lungs fully expand for the first time in hours. A soft hand found Tech’s cheek, the tips of your fingers accidentally bumping the edge of his goggles and another smile gracing your face, this one out of relief. 

“Told you you’d be okay.” 

[stxphxn-strange]

playing pretend

a/n: hello hello hello! i have a prompt fill for this Dark!Stephen AU from @ironstrangeprompts and im just gonna post it before i can start second guessing my writing lmao

tw: mentions of torture, injury, implied past abuse

Prompt: Dark!Stephen AU. The avengers never really notice Stephen’s pacifist to-a-fault superheroing style until one day a magical incident corrupts him/magical entity possesses him. They’re treated to a completely unhinged and lethal Stephen, the avengers realize just how much Stephen was holding back, what with his quick work dispatching all of them, resulting in very heavy injuries. However, he takes special interest with Tony Stark, whom he has been dating for a few months now. He has Tony all strung up in the middle of the battlefield in front of the other broken and beaten avengers, he taunts and tortures him. “Being a doctor and a sorcerer is so very useful, I can break you in very precise manners, put you back together and then do it again.” When he gets bored of Tony’s screams and decides to end him permanently, Stephen suddenly snaps back to normal. The real Stephen has been battling internally to gain back control, knowing that he’s about to kill the love of his life gives him the final push to break free. He portals them all to safety and to receive medical help. Cue heavy angst and Stephen trying to make it up to them but especially Tony, who insists that everything is fine and that he knows it wasn’t the real Stephen. However they both know that Tony is just putting up a brave front and is undoubtedly traumatized by the incident. Up to the author on if they want to end it in a bleak or hopeful tone.

It took Tony a few minutes to register his surroundings when he woke up. He wasn’t lying in a makeshift coffin of bent metal, broken bones, and the ruins of the building. The familiar baritone, the melody of his waking world, wasn’t hollow and cruelly taunting him. Stephen sounded like himself, soothing and loving and reassuring but worried and tired all the same. Tony heard guilt in his partner’s voice, delineating his dream, his memory, from the present. He wanted to follow that voice, the real Stephen’s voice, and leave the past behind them. Guilt was eating away at Stephen as he tried to calm Tony down and wake him up. He defaulted to the standard promises and phrases when Tony had nightmares, but this time was different. This time Stephen was the cause of the nightmare, and he knew it. No matter how much Tony said it wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay, Stephen knew he had to repair the pieces of Tony’s trust he’d obliterated.

Tony thrashed again in his sleep, feebly kicking the air in front of him just like he did on the battlefield. “Stop!”

“Sweetheart,” Stephen began, unsure of what to say. “Tony, wake up. You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Stephen!” Tony groaned and thrashed again, his eyes still shut as he fought to wake up. “This isn’t you… don’t do this.”

Stephen barely held back tears as he spoke again. “It’s over Tony, I’m back. I’m me again. I won’t hurt you, I promise I’ll never hurt you as long as I live.”

Tony was shaking when he finally woke up, unsure if he was even breathing. He opened his eyes hastily, studying the look on Stephen’s face. Stephen looked concerned, even worried, but unsure of himself as he murmured soothing nonsense to Tony.

“Breathe, Tones,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just breathe, we’re alright. I’ll leave you be once I’m sure you’re okay, and—”

Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare. Don’t go… please don’t go Stephen.”

“I can’t risk scaring you again Tony. I’ve already hurt you enough, it’s not fair to keep putting you through this,” Stephen argued, fighting his urge to hug Tony back.

Tony only held on tighter, determined not to let Stephen leave.

Stephen still wanted to disappear, but he quickly understood that Tony wouldn’t let him go that easily. The mechanic was still shivering and trembling, slowly starting to calm down as Stephen hesitantly hugged him back.

++++

They both woke up at the same time, almost four days later. Stephen woke up slowly, feeling like he was underwater or in a fog, while Tony started awake across town.

It was pitch dark in the room, the heavy curtains drawn shut to keep out any intrusive light. It was the middle of the day, judging by the clock Stephen kept on his nightstand, but he couldn’t feel the sun on his face, or see any light from his window. He was bathing in pitch black. At first, he thought he was dead, doomed to an eternity in darkness, when something red bloomed and came to life beside him. Even now, his Cloak was always dramatic, comforting as it covered him like a blanket.

As his eyes adjusted, Stephen registered Wong and Christine on the other side of the room, just studying him.

Christine was the first to meet his stare, rushing to his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Stephen grimaced in pain as he shrugged. “Not great, thanks.” There was something else on his mind, but he was too afraid to ask. He was almost too scared to hear the answer.

Luckily, Wong spoke up before Stephen could ask. “You slept for three and a half days, Strange. How much do you remember?”

“Something attacked the Compound… I think it was me,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Wong began, gentler than Stephen had ever heard him.

“Possessed or not, I still attacked!” Stephen sat up, paying the price as he rose quicker than his body could handle. “It doesn’t matter if I saved everyone, not if I almost killed them first.”

Neither Wong nor Christine spoke, and the cloak simply wrapped tighter around Stephen’s shoulders.

“You did save everyone,” Wong said finally. “And you banished whatever entity possessed you. We still haven’t figured out what it is, but…”

Wong’s voice trailed off as Stephen stopped listening. His head started to hurt as he remembered, in searing detail, more of what happened and what caused him to snap out of the state he was in.

Tony was near silent, his voice failing him after hours of tortured screams. Somewhere, somehow, Stephen knew that he was the one hurting him, the one causing Tony so much pain even though he promised never to hurt the hero. He wanted to stop, to end all of the carnage he’d brought to the Compound, to his friends who were starting to feel like family, to Tony… but he couldn’t. The hand controlling his impulsive strings was strong and steady, and it wouldn’t rest until Stephen finished its bidding.

His movements were mechanical as he strode, like the marionette he’d become, to stand in front of Tony.

And Tony just looked at him with a defeated, almost calm look on his face.

Stephen’s voice sounded distorted when he spoke, preening with a twisted smile as he bent to look upon the man of iron. “Accepted your fate?”

“You won’t be the first person I’ve loved who’s hurt me,” Tony said, between pained breaths. “There’s nothing to say.”

Stephen tried to back up, to keep himself still, but he couldn’t fight the influence of his controller and struck Tony again. “Arrogance is unbecoming.”

Tony inhaled again, deeper and more pained this time but somehow even calmer. “Go ahead and finish the job. I won’t hold it against you, Stephen.”

Stephen was hyperventilating when he heard Wong’s voice again, pressed against the headboard of his bed like he was backed into a corner.

Christine approached him tentatively, resting her hand on one of his shoulders.

Stephen recoiled away from the touch and curled up on himself like a turtle retreating in its shell. He ducked his head under a pillow, shaking in fear and pain from moving too quickly. “Did I… did I kill him? I remember everything until I was about to… please tell me I—”

“You didn’t.” Christine cut him off, hoping to keep her friend from spiraling further. “Wong said you saved everyone, and that includes Tony.”

Stephen sobbed just hearing his partner’s name. Guilt wracked his entire body as he cried harder and harder, his magic running through his veins. Was he not this exhausted, he’d probably set fire to something from his high levels of stress and fear, but all he could do was cry until he fell into painful sleep.

++++

He didn’t finish it.

He didn’t listen.

Tony remembered the horrified look he saw on Stephen’s face, the remorse in his eyes as he sent a vaguely corporeal figure of dark energy through a portal.

Tony remembered the way Stephen apologized again and again as his eyes started closing, overwhelmed by the pain seizing his mind and body. A part of him hoped that Stephen had listened, that maybe the last thing he’d see in this life would be the face he’d come to absolutely adore…

… But he’d woken up sometime later in the MedBay, wanting to see Stephen more than anything. In spite of everything that’d just happened, or maybe because of everything that’d just happened, all Tony really wanted was to go back to sleep, preferably in his partner’s embrace. That really didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

Tony almost didn’t notice Peter pacing around on the ceiling, in fact he didn’t know his pseudo son was even in the room until he suddenly landed a few feet away. “I feel great, Kid. Definitely not like I took a ton of bricks to the face.” He didn’t remember the gory details of the fight, so Tony couldn’t say whether or not he was being literal.

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY said, a hint of worry in her voice. “And good morning. It’s currently half nine on Tuesday. I’ve been asked to inform you that Col. Rhodes has returned from Washington and has volunteered to lead all reconstruction projects for the Compound. He’s also asked me to keep you updated and will be coming to see you this afternoon.”

Tony sighed. “Thank you. Wait… that means Rhodey came back early?”

“He did,” FRIDAY replied simply. Her voice sounded like what a nod looked like as she continued. “Would you like me to tell him that you asked about him?”

“Sure, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to rush to see me,” Tony replied, knowing that Rhodey would probably come anyway. He was maybe the one exception to what Tony had told Stephen earlier, before…

“Col. Rhodes will be here within the hour,” FRIDAY announced.

“Thanks Fri.”

Peter, who had started pacing on the ceiling again, asked what Tony had been wondering since he woke up. “Where’s the Doc?”

“I dunno, Pete. I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony admitted. “Fri, you wouldn’t happen to know… would you?”

“As far as I can tell, Doctor Strange returned to the Sanctum following the… altercation… on Thursday,” the AI reported.

“What? Altercation? What happened?” Peter landed on the floor again, looking more worried than Tony thought he deserved to.

“There was just a small wizarding mishap, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He shrugged, trying to reassure Peter as much as he could. “Not even an emergency, Underoos. We would’ve called for you if it was.”

Tony also didn’t want Peter to see what happened. Maybe he was sheltering the kid, but he didn’t want Peter to ever find out about the attack on the Compound. It was bad enough that the team, even in their varied states of consciousness, saw what they did. They saw the fear in Tony’s eyes, saw him slowly surrender to Stephen’s ruthless attacks until he just stopped trying to fight the sorcerer. Tony knew he couldn’t parry these magical attacks, couldn’t break the spelled restraints… but he didn’t want Peter to see how easily he’d given up.

If Peter had more to say, he simply chose not to ask about it. Instead he just shrugged. “Glad you’re okay, Mr. Stark. May heard from Pepper that you got hurt, so I wanted to swing by… no pun intended.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that calling me ‘Tony’ is fine?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes warmly. “I’m fine, Pete. Not up for working in the lab today, I’m afraid, but—”

“That’s okay! My suit isn’t going anywhere, we can upgrade anytime,” Peter replied. “I promised May I’d be home for movie night, but I just wanted to come see you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You’re a good kid, Son. Get home safe, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in working condition.”

“Thanks IronDad!” Peter was gone in a second, leaving Tony in the quiet with his thoughts.

“Fri?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Still here, Boss.”

“Will you… will you tell Stephen I want to see him?” Tony asked.

Maybe he was the spoiled brat everyone believed, or maybe he was exhausted and touch starved and showing signs of an addictive personality. Tony didn’t know, he didn’t care, and he just wanted his sorcerer back.

“I’ll let him know,” FRIDAY replied, softer than normal.

++++

“Stephen, it’s been days. Days since the attack, days since you holed yourself up in my library like you’re going into hibernation—”

“Good morning to you too, Wong.”

Wong may have laughed at Stephen’s attitude if he didn’t feel so bad for him. Stephen was completely out of it, so much so that he didn’t even realize how late in the day it was. “It’s almost eight, Strange.”

Stephen just sighed. “Did you need something from me?”

“Stark is asking for you again. I think you should see him.”

“You said that yesterday,” Stephen muttered.

“I’m saying it again now. I know you, Stephen, I can read you like any book in here.” Wong began. “You’re trying to outrun your guilt but you know it’s not that easy. Ignoring Tony isn’t going to make things go away, and it’s not going to make either of you feel better. He misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

“I don’t know how I can even look at him after what I did… he trusted me,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his lap. “I broke his trust.”

“Not willingly, and he knows that,” Wong reminded him. “It wasn’t you, Stephen.”

Stephen ignored him, beginning to tremble as he thought back to what Tony had said to him. “He told me he wouldn’t hold it against me… that I wasn’t the first of his loved ones to hurt him. I don’t know what I could do or say to prove to him, let alone to the team, that I’d never hurt them again.”

“Hiding away in here isn’t helping to prove that,” Wong said.

“You just want your chair by the window back,” Stephen accused him.

“Of course I do! But I also care about you and your happiness. If you need anyone to vouch for you, I’ll be here,” Wong replied.

“That sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me.”

“I have. Go now, before it gets too late.”

Stephen opened a portal to the tower, just outside of the lab. “I doubt Tony would be asleep, he’s always awake.”

His suspicions were confirmed as he closed the portal. Tony was in his lab where Stephen thought he’d be, a mug in one hand and a pen in the other.

Stephen’s entire body trembled with nerves as he opened the door, the cloak knocking loudly and dramatically to make his presence known.

“FRIDAY, Quiet Place Protocol please,” Tony said. He looked up and smiled sadly at Stephen as the lab’s usual blaring music shut off. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stephen suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too scared to get any closer to Tony, afraid to hurt him, but at the same time all he wanted was to hug him.

The cloak made the first move, flying off of his shoulders and resting on Tony’s.

“Aww, hi Levy.” Of course Tony had a nickname for the relic, he had nicknames for everything and everyone.

Stephen found it annoying in the most heartwarming way, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony sat down at his workbench.

“You can come over, you know?” Tony asked, half teasingly. “I told you I don’t bite, Steph.”

Stephen felt like a marionette again as he walked towards his boyfriend, but his heart was in control this time. He wanted to protect, to cherish, and to spoil the man in front of him with nothing but love and attention. He was just afraid, still unsure of himself as he studied Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I know.” Tony opened his palms on his lap, silently asking to hold Stephen’s hands.

Stephen let him, trembling harder as Tony held him gently. “I don’t know what happened, Tony. Something took over me, and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve never been overpowered like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. But please listen when I say that I promise it’ll never happen again, I mean that’s a given if you leave me, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony said firmly. “I know you weren’t voluntarily doing all of those things.”

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Tony…” Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tony I could’ve killed you. The entire time I was trying to break the curse, to get that thing out of my system, I almost killed you. And you almost let me do it.”

“I did.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. Tony had that calm, accepting look on his face mixed with a kind, trusting expression. It was the same look he’d given Stephen in the ruins of the Compound, and it hurt. It didn’t feel like an apology would be enough to make things right, but what else was there to do now? “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony slid his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into the hug they’d both been needing. “I’m fine baby, it’s okay. It’s over.”

Stephen knew it wasn’t just over, and he knew Tony knew it too. But in the moment he was too fatigued to fight about it and let Tony hold him closer. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Tony replied. “Not to be cheesy or whatnot, but I do sleep better with you next to me.”

“May I take you to bed?” Stephen asked, sounding even shyer than when he normally asked that. “Please? I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t object to a nap.”

Tony nodded, shifting to press a chaste kiss to Stephen’s lips. “That sounds nice. FRIDAY, save and shut everything off please.”

“Engaging ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol, Boss,” FRIDAY reported dutifully.

Tony scoffed. “Remind me to never let you and Peter give Fri name suggestions again.”

“You could just change it if it bothers you that much.” Stephen chose to remind Tony of that instead, even though they both knew Tony was secretly fond of the movie references hidden in his protocols. “Besides, that serves you right for calling me Gandalf all the time.”

“If the shoe fits, babe,” Tony said. He stood up, keeping an arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist as they left the lab and headed for the elevators.

Despite feeling safe and loved in Tony’s arms, more than he could have ever hoped to be and probably more than he deserved, Stephen was still anxious. He felt out of place in the Tower, never mind the fact that he usually spent half of his time there, and he felt even more out of place amongst the team.

“How are the others?” He asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’re getting better.” Tony saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. Stephen would see right through it, and that wouldn’t help him process everything. “Carol and Thor are both bored of training with each other, but no one else wants to spar with either of them yet. Or with Natasha, for that matter.”

“Does anyone ever want to spar with them on a good day?” Stephen asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“You’re all a bunch of sore losers who can’t rise to a friendly challenge” Natasha quipped, suddenly materializing in front of the couple. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he here?”

“Natasha, I—”

Natasha pointedly ignored Stephen. She never disliked the sorcerer, she was actually indifferent and had no issues telling Tony that, but Tony’s trustful, rather soft nature was a concern of hers. It worked in her favor, sure, but she was really trying to be a better friend to Tony and look out for him more. It was this concern that motivated her to look at Stephen with disgust. Natasha wasn’t scared of him, she took heavy damage in the attacks but it was more minimal compared to some of the things she’d put his friends and family through.

Tony was acting as if none of that happened, and that couldn’t stand.

Natasha frowned and glared at Stephen as she addressed Tony. “Tony what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t play dumb and tell me you’re not following. What are you still doing with him? You barely sleep more than an hour without waking everyone up screaming from phantom pain and nightmares! Do you think we can’t hear you yelling and begging for Stephen to stop torturing you and just kill you? Because we all do!” Natasha took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And after all that, you’re holding him like nothing is wrong? I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving sometimes.”

She stormed off before Stephen could defend himself or before Tony could respond. Her words echoed in Stephen’s head as Tony continued to lead him down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the penthouse.

Stephen sat dejectedly on the bed as Tony shuffled around the room, grabbing a few blankets from the closet. He didn’t say anything as Tony made a little nest of pillows and blankets, the cloak joining the haphazard pile the minute Tony curled up under a throw. Eventually Stephen allowed himself to lay down, offering no protests as Tony hugged him again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, mumbling into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I know,” Tony said simply. “Relax sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He was still tense, curling up smaller in Tony’s arms. “Are you okay?” The sorcerer asked.

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured him. That was half true. He was fine, to a point, but there were things bothering him that he had no idea how to tell Stephen about.

Eventually they would have to face the music and talk about everything, and they both knew it. For now, Tony was somewhat okay with ignoring it, clinging to the hope that having his Stephen back would keep the memories at bay.

Tags: @stark-strange-love2 @salty-ironstrange-shipper @funkylittlebidiot @richieleeparker @chocopiggy @hatakehikari @taruyison 

[mxvladdy]

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate! 

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing. 

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file. 

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack. 

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet. 

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.   

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves. 

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens. 

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.” 

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master  that we will be taking the rest of the day off.” 

“We?” 

“Of course.”  He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep. 

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves. 

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely.  It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist. 

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler. 

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.�� He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply.  He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.” 

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.  

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face.  “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.” 

“By what?” 

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders.  Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others. 

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage,  just his regular old human. 

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too. 

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?” 

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild.  Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless.  You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot. 

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.”  Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!”  He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!” 

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly. 

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted. 

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!” 

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods. 

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the  taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

[bonesofapoet]

Stars in High Tide

[ sam wilson x you ]

author’s note: so i rewatched tfatws then completely rewrote what i was working on the first time i watched this :) anyway, im a bit rusty and a bit terrified i keep writing for new characters so pls be gentle, we’re working through some Angst with this one lmao. pre tfatws, post endgame, grief tw, implied death

word count: 954

It was peaceful, the way sunlight fell over the water.

The rise of the sun was slow and steady in this gentle blue hour, all melancholy and serene. It gave way to the coveted brilliance of golden hour, over time. Deep navy blue melted through shades of indigo, lilac. The air became rosy when the sky became warm honey, oranges reflecting off the cool water. Bright beams were kaleidoscopic off waves ebbing and flowing with the tide.

The sound echoed in your ears, soft and familiar, hid the sound of footfalls coming up behind you, then stopped on your right. He crouched down on the ground, stretched out long legs to lean back on calloused palms. He said nothing.

Sunshine had just begun to illuminate the world, and by extension, your heart. Golden hour intensified until it evened out, faded into the shadow of oblivion.

After a few minutes of silence, your voice found it’s footing, found stable ground to stand on. It was quiet though, held the kind of distance one reserves for memories still a little raw, still tender pinkish and swollen around the edges.

“You know, during those five years – I read a quote that stuck with me for a while. ‘Nature is a haunted house.’” a pause. Leaned back on your hands and felt the warmth of the sun slowly creep over your bare feet, up your legs. Your eyes slid from the calm waters over to Sam, watching you with soft eyes.

“I didn’t really understand, at first. Then the next morning, I came out here to watch the sunrise again and I – well. I felt it, Sam. It was just ghost after ghost, hovering next to me in this sea of people simply gone.” a deep inhale, exhale. “It was just me, and the water, and our memories.”

As if to mirror your secret, silence crept into the cracks, the break in conversation. It cowered behind the whispers of willow leaves when the breeze blew gentle and warm. Waves rippled and lapped at the shore, while Sam, for once, wasn’t quite sure what to say. His chest felt tight, heartbeat slow and steady, a direct contradiction of his mind which did nothing but race. Tension held in his shoulders, you saw him go still out the corner of your eye.

Eventually, he reached out to you, fingers skimming along your lower back to curl around your side. You relaxed into him, felt that lingering piece of heartache ease. Sam knotted his hand into the fabric of your clothing while he held you close.

That was all you needed just then, to feel him solid, real, near.

Your name tumbled off his tongue, quiet and drawn out. It dripped with the tender sweetness of an old lover, a hint of fear lurked in the wings of his crafted ease. Your chest cracked open – quick and quiet, but painful all the same – and you stopped him before he could start. Five months was a long time back, but it was also no time at all. These spells would would come in with the tide, but they would shrink away just the same.

Moments in time, you said to Sam after the first three months – after the novelty of a grand homecoming wore off and the graceless era of transitions and new lives had begun. You didn’t know how else to explain it. Sam knew grief – knew you – close enough to know what it was you couldn’t quite say. We’ll work through it, his hand wove through your own and gave a gentle squeeze.

As for the vibrant morning sun, she had finally broken through swaying branches hanging low, sage green leaves illuminated. The silhouettes were a patchwork of beautiful lattice windows to the brand new blue sky. It felt welcome, when warmer rays snuck through and swept across your face, a lovely change to the gloom that had nestled in your heart.

It felt even better when Sam gave your waist a squeeze, pressed a kiss to your crown. A quiet laugh, humorless, yet somehow very much not, spilled through his lips.

“A moment in time,” he repeats, hushed. “My love, always the optimist.”

“Well, someone has to keep up morale while you’re off gallivanting across the world.”

A smile had entered your voice, slowly and brightly climbing out of that dark that snuck in every so often. A kiss was pressed to Sam’s jaw.

He pulled away, just enough to see you. The ghost of a grin lingered on lips trying to keep serious. “Oh, so I gallivant now.”

Stated, not questioned. Your sullen composure cracked just a little bit more, and the lingering feelings of your past slid back into the water until their next unexpected arrival.

“Saving the world seems a little over done, doesn't it?”

“Oh come on,” he’s laughing now – you both are – and his fingers unwound from your clothing, arm loosened around your waist. Neither of you were aware how tightly he kept you close. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Shoulders shrug, you make an indifferent noise. “I mean.”

“What,” Sam grins, pushing himself to his feet. He reaches a hand to you, pulls you up to stand beside him. “Don’t tell me you don’t like to brag.”

You pull a face, the last of your words mix with a giggle. “Is that what you think I do?”

“That’s what I know you do, I get to hear about it every time I come home-”

“Who says-”

“Everyone on the block-”

The bickering continues, all lighthearted and love-struck, making up for lost time. The louder the laughter grew, the warmer the morning blossomed, the fuller your hearts became. You realized, as Sam carried you inside – haphazardly – there were no ghosts here, not anymore.