#I’ll use any and every opportunity to make something angsty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finerllines · 2 years

Text

love, rory [bestfriend!h]

a/n: hiya thank you all for being patient and i hope this part gets you excited for the next part!! there's not too much harry in this one but i think it's still pretty fun!! please reblog and comment if you enjoyed the fic and if you wanna be tagged in the next part lmk :D

summary: richard is in his comeback era while harry has triggered his downfall

wc: 9.2k+

cw: none, a little angsty

prev part

///

This is bad. This is beyond bad, this is terrible. Everything is terrible.

Charlie hopes that her efforts to keep her panic eyes at bay are working, because they are in a crowded park with lots of families around. The last thing she wants is to attract any attention from ‘normal’ couples.

She has no idea how this happened. How she let this happen. It was just supposed to be lunch with Richard. Just one lunch for Richard to say whatever he had planned to say, and then they would go their separate ways and she’d finally block his number, forgetting that the meeting ever happened.

Instead, however, she finds herself seated across Richard, for the second time, with Rory between her legs, hands circling her waist protectively. She’s on guard, of course she is. Her daughter is the most important thing in her life. Her top priority, her only priority. She must put Rory’s needs before her own, and if that means giving her an opportunity to know her father then so be it.

The repeated reminders to herself that everything Richard says is bullshit were useless.

“I know I’ve abandoned you, and her, but I want to make it right. She won’t remember all of this, and she’ll never have to know, because I’ll make up for all the lost time. It’s okay if you never forgive me but don’t give her a reason to need to forgive me. She doesn’t deserve it. Please don’t make me hurt her the way I hurt you.”

She forgets that they were at one point in a committed relationship, that they used to know everything about each other. The only good thing about your partner walking out of your relationship is that it’s easy to get over them, you are too blinded by rage to miss them or reminisce. But he keeps saying all the right things. And while her brain tells her to stay on guard, her heart is more than ready to trust again, eager to return to that confident and self-assured person she was before he left. More importantly, that’s how she wants Rory to view her mother, an accomplished and confident woman. Not someone who was abandoned by the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

So, when he asks to meet Rory ‘as a family’, all she can do is whisper a wary “okay, sure”, as if every other thought had fled her brain.

Her agreement brings them to the park, on a picnic mat next to the playground.

The wariness has subsided a little. Richard seems to be sticking true to his promise and letting her direct how this interaction would go. She doesn’t want to hand Rory to him and send them off to the playground assuming that the little girl would be okay with a stranger taking her away. Sure, Rory was comfortable with Harry almost instantly, but something in Charlie’s gut tells her that this isn’t the same. Maybe it’s because everyone knows Harry is good with kids, he is basically England’s most sought after godfather, and Richard happened to run away at the first inkling of a baby. Either way, she reminds herself to push her own skepticism away and take cues from Rory, who so far hasn’t really seemed to notice the new man sitting across from her, her attention fully occupied by the toy car in her grip.

How do you introduce a baby to a stranger, Charlie asks herself. It’s not like introducing a new pet to your home – Rory is not interested in climbing over Richard and giving him a good sniff to sus him out. The best she can do is try and help him get Rory’s attention by prying the car out of her hand and passing it to him. Sure enough, the little girl’s eyes follow the toy with confusion, but despite Richard’s waving and Charlie’s encouragements, all she does is crawl over to him to reach for the car, completely uninterested in reciprocating the greeting.

“Rory, you don’t wanna say ‘hi’ to mummy’s friend?” She holds Rory’s hand and waves at him, “Say ‘hi’ Richard.”

Rory’s arm falls limply in front of her when it’s let go off. She simply looks at him with wide eyes, not saying or doing anything.

Richard clears his throat. “Hi Rory, can I play with you?”

Lying down on his stomach, he peers up at her and slowly reaches for another toy car and starts driving it in front of her. After some hesitation, Rory joins him in pushing and pulling her car around on the mat. And as much as Charlie hates to admit it, the smile that emerges on Richard’s face is a little infectious. Relief and excitement are written all over his face. Having your daughter ignore you can’t be a good feeling.

While he doesn’t manage to go from zero to a hundred (like Harry managed to), he did get a wave back and a giggle out of her, and when he placed his hand palm up on the mat hoping for a high five, Rory did wrap her hand around his thumb instead.

When the playground got more crowded later in the afternoon, Charlie insisted on taking their leave. Richard walked them to the car and pulled silly faces over her shoulder as she buckled Rory into the car seat.

“Thanks for letting me do this. I had a great time with her, and I think she likes me.” His voice is soft, and his eyes portray a shyness that is not normally there.

Charlie lets him take a step towards her when she turns to face him. This is the closest they’ve been since … well since he left.

“You’re welcome. It went well I think.”

His eyes brightened. “Does that mean I can see her again? Does that mean I can see you again?”

She bites her lip. “We’ll see, we can text about it, I guess. But do not come to my house uninvited ever.”

“I promise I won’t. That was stupid of me, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head aggressively. “You can trust me. I made a mistake but I’m back to make it right.”

Unsure of what to say, she just nods. “Alright. See you next time, possibly.”

On the drive home, she replays the little playdate over in her head. Everything went fine. Father and daughter seemed to get along fine. But is fine enough? She can’t help but compare Richard to Harry, something she subconsciously did ever since meeting Richard. It’s a little hard to compare first interactions, Rory was groggy and hungry the first time she met Harry. But every time after that, she was more than happy to play with him. In fact, she was in Harry’s arms every day after that.

Maybe she’s being too harsh, Harry had the advantage of being in her home and being around them every day. Plus, a lukewarm reaction is definitely better than a negative one. She has to give Richard a fair shot, he is Rory’s father, and it won’t be fair to deny her of that relationship just because of some personal bias towards Harry. Giving her daughter a chance to grow up with both parents is more important than her own feelings, she could never take that away from Rory.

Just thinking about Rory growing up to realise that her father didn’t love her enough to stick around from the beginning, and that her mother didn’t love her enough to put her first made Charlie feel sick. She can protect Rory from feeling unloved and unwanted.

She will.

Somehow Charlie’s life has taken a sharp left turn in a span of a month. Not only is Richard not blocked, he is also one of the few people she texts semi-regularly. She has no clue how it happened. All she remembers is getting a text from him thanking her again when she was lying in bed after their little family reunion and scheduling another playdate together the next week.

She figured it couldn’t hurt, a little trip to Costa won’t hurt anyone. She was right, she and her daughter came back from the coffee shop unscathed. But it did lead to her agreeing to another meeting with Richard, and another, and another, and another. Now, as she sits on a towel watching Rory and Richard build a sandcastle, she sifts through every conversation, look, and gesture that brought her to the beach with her ex-boyfriend and her daughter.

The beach seemed harmless enough, it’s a public place and definitely child friendly, however the fact that he would be in a state of undress completely flew over her head. She either managed to overlook that fact somehow, or just took it for granted that she is incapable of being attracted to a man who made her feel small and insecure.

When he whipped off his shirt seconds after putting his stuff down, Charlie stood frozen, eyes glued to his chest for a good couple of seconds. He must have felt her eyes on him because when she fails to look away quick enough, he shoots her a boyish smirk, which sends a rush of heat up her neck and face, finally forcing her to snap out of it and look away.

Red flags immediately start waving in her head. This is dangerous territory, retreat. As much as she’d like to be rational and heed the warning, her heart is stubborn and won’t move on from how handsome he is. She hates to admit it but the time apart did his body good.

He was always a looker, that’s what drew her to him in the first place, but he somehow got more attractive. His body filled out a bit more, and the sun is doing him lots of favours by hitting his skin just right, making his eyes and smile brighter.

Annoyingly, Charlie finds herself sneaking glances at Richard throughout the day – when he holds Rory’s hand to slowly walk her down to the water, when he looks back at her for reassurance after making Rory laugh, and when he hands her an ice cream with a soft smile.

They sit around a cooler bag for lunch, picking at the sandwiches and fruit that Richard packed. He does up a little plate of foods she previously approved for Rory and guides her hands to encourage her to start eating. Charlie notes his movements are less timid. He still handles her watchfully, trying to gauge Rory’s reaction to being touched by him, except his movements no longer stutter.

Rory’s been exceptionally well behaved the whole morning, happily rolling around in the sand and kicking her feet up with excited shrieks when her feet get lowered into the sea. It’s been an action packed morning and she’s completely justified in whining and kicking up a big fuss, refusing to eat her food.

A long, high pitched whine escapes her lips as she pushes Richard’s hand away. Her lips form a deep pout, eyes widening to look at her mum as if pleading for something.

“What’s wrong? She hurt?”

Charlie smirks at Richard’s unease. “Nothing’s wrong, she’s just a baby, and this is what babies do. They whine and cry when they’re tired or hungry while also refusing to sleep or eat.”

His expression doesn’t relax.

She returns her daughter’s pout and opens her arms. Rory instantly takes the invitation and crawls over for a cuddle. “You’ll have to get used to it. Being a parent is more than giggles at the beach.”

“I’ll … have to keep that in mind then.”

The pair sit in silence as Rory drifts to sleep in Charlie’s rocking arms after stubbornly eating a couple of blueberries and a piece of bread.

Eventually, Richard gets bold enough to slide closer to them. He strokes Rory’s back once slowly. “She’s adorable.”

“I guess we did good.”

He chuckles lightly. “Yeah. Crazy to think that she’s half of me. Half of us.”

His words are weighty. They both know it.

When she doesn’t respond, he continues. “Is she like me?”

“A little. She’s quite outgoing, likes attention, likes to perform.”

“What are you trying to say then?” he asks playfully. It’s been a while since he joked around with her.

“You know I’m right. You’ve always loved telling your stories and getting a laugh from everyone and I liked watching from the side.”

“Hey,” he says, tucking a finger under Charlie’s chin to make their eyes meet, “I like hearing you talk about us, about what we used to be. We were good.”

She doesn’t know what reply would be appropriate, so she chooses to keep quiet. It has been a while since she’s properly looked into Richard’s eyes.

Maybe Richard isn’t as magnetic as Harry and doesn’t cause emotion to build and build in her chest, only to gently deflate the build back up again, but he’s familiar and comforting all the same. As much as she hates to admit it, it feels nice to see Richard shoot her flirty smirks and order her favourite ice cream without having to ask, it feels nice to have someone want to rebuild a relationship with her, even if it’s not a romantic one.

She decides to let herself lean in. They are just two adults trying to co-parent for the sake of their daughter, nothing more. So what if he makes her blush? Their daughter had to come from somewhere. This is good. Rory gets a chance to be raised by both parents, and maybe once she shirks off the abandoned single mother reputation her parents will see Rory as the blessing she is. Rory will get to have a full family, parents, grandparents, the works.

The only issue with committing to co-parenting with Richard is that she definitely can’t put off telling Harry about it now. No more secrets, she owes him that much.

Turns out the universe hates Charlie because again, the opportunity to deliver news to Harry is taken away from her.

“What’s this?” Harry asks as he holds his phone in front of his laptop camera. A grainy photo fills the screen.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Charlie.” His voice is short.

She squints trying to figure out what she is supposed to be looking at. Then, her jaw drops.

“Is that, is that …”

“You and Rory with Richard? Yeah.”

“Wh-what? H-how?” she stutters with bewilderment, “Who took that photo?”

“Some fan, I don’t know.”

“Why would they take a photo, you weren’t with us?”

Harry’s silent for the first time this conversation, seeming to have run out of answers. “H, why did they take a photo?” His hand holding up the photo starts to tremble ever so slightly. “H, what aren’t you telling me?”

“What aren’t you telling me?” he counters.

“Harry.” Her voice is stern now. “Look at me.”

With a huff, he lowers his hand to reveal his tense jaw and furrowed brows. Charlie doesn’t say anything. She’s run of words.

His hand drags down his face slowly. “Because people saw us at the park the last time, so they think monkey’s mine and you’re cheating on me.”

It’s Charlie’s turn to clench her jaw and furrow her brows. “What.”

“That day in the park, someone took a photo of us and we were holding hands and stuff so they think we’re together. You can’t make out Rory’s face they just, they recognise you, so they just assumed.”

“They?”

He clears his throat.

“The fans. The internet.”

The ground disappears beneath her feet. Every hair on her body stands up, her skin feeling cold and prickly. She hears Harry saying her name faintly, but she can’t make out his voice clearly over the ringing in her ears.

“When was this?” Charlie’s whispering now.

“I don’t under-“

“When did the park photos first get posted.”

“Um,” if she could get her eyes to focus through the tears, she would see the dread on his face, “the day after. The day I left.”

Harry could practically hear the wheels grinding in her head.

“You knew,” she finally says. “You told me to stay offline because of promo. That was right after you left.”

“Love, I –“

“You lied to me. How long did you think you could keep this up before I found out?”

Her tone is so flat that he isn’t sure whether she’s asking him a question or making a statement.

“I was trying to get the photos taken down, I didn’t want you to get scared for no reason.”

Charlie snaps out of her reverie.

“No reason?” Her gaze is piercing, ice cold. “You know damn well I have a good reason to be scared. I think you’re just fucking selfish.”

“Selfish?”

He has the nerve to look offended, she thinks.

“You don’t want me to keep Rory away from you, don’t want me to realise that Rory being seen with you is dangerous. I said over and over that we have to be careful, we can’t just make last minute trips to the park in the middle of the day, but you insisted. Turns out,” she’s close to shouting now, “we were fortunate enough to not be followed home, to not have you walking into my home holding my baby plastered all over the internet, for everyone to see and speculate.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” she laughs humourlessly, “Because I think, no, I know that if you didn’t see the photos with Richard, you would never have told me that millions of people have photos of my daughter.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t want to worry my best friend. And everyone would’ve forgotten about Rory if you weren’t seen parading around with Richard. Who the hell brings their baby on dates, with the man that walked out on them no less? You’ll just let anyone hold Rory then, huh? Have some self-respect, if not for yourself then for Rory.”

“Richard is Rory’s father, he has more of a right to hold Rory than you.” Harry’s jaw snaps shut. “And who I let be around my daughter is frankly none of your business. What, you spend two weeks with her and suddenly know what’s best for her? I am her mother. You do not have the right to tell me how to parent her. And it wasn’t a date, not that it matters. Heaven forbid that Richard had a change of heart and decided that Rory is someone worthy of love. At least he cares enough about Rory to suck up his pride and apologise, unlike you who doesn’t give a shit about her safety.”

He chooses to ignore the words directed at him, feeling too fired up to think rationally. He goes for the low hanging fruit instead. “C’mon, you can’t be stupid enough to think that Richard really changed that much in just one year. He obviously has some sort of motive and you’re dumb enough to fall for whatever bullshit he’s feeding you.”

A bitter taste fills his mouth the moment the words leave his lips. He opens his mouth to take it back, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Fuck you.” All the bite in her voice is gone, reduced to something breathy and shaky.

She disconnects the call not trusting herself to keep it together any longer. Frankly, she’s surprised she’s still sitting up right because all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and will the ground to swallow her whole.

How the hell is she going to do literally anything else for the rest of the day.

Taking advantage of the lump in her throat, she calls work to take a sick day and cancels the sitter. Her head feels like it’s filled with static with her consciousness bouncing from one crisis to another.

But when she sees Rory smiling to herself as she plays in the playpen with the blissful obliviousness only a child can have, it seems like everything stands still. That smile is something special. Nothing else matters. Not her own feelings and definitely not Harry’s feelings.

“My sweet girl,” she coos, reaching to pick Rory up. Her cheeks are rosy and her little baby teeth are on display as she stares at her mother with an open mouthed grin.

The tension in Charlie’s body slowly dissipates as she rocks side to side, her daughter cuddled close to her chest. As if sensing her distress, Rory doesn’t wiggle or kick her legs, simply pressing her cheek firmly against her mother’s chest and reaching her little hand up to rest on Charlie’s neck, as if she’s trying to soothe. Charlie tries her best to repress the memory of what just happened, mindful to not squeeze her daughter too hard.

It’s only when Rory mumbles “mamama” that she breaks and starts to cry.

“Harry!”

“Huh? Sorry, I’m listening.”

Harry was in fact not listening, in fact he hasn’t been listening for the past couple of hours, or days really. It’s hard to be excited for a new era, new album, and new tour, when all he wants is to go home and grovel at Charlie’s feet until she forgives him. He can’t believe he was stupid enough to say all that shit to her. If he heard anyone disrespect her and her daughter like that, he would deck them immediately, cameras be damned. But he can’t punch himself silly, so he settles with mentally berating himself. It’s hard to absorb what everyone else is saying when every word he said to Charlie is constantly replaying in his head, only pausing when he does his daily internet browse to make sure no new photos of Charlie and Rory have surfaced.

Normally, he would tell himself to get lost in his work. It’s a little hard to do that this time when so much of the album is about the person he hurt, and it doesn’t help that there are a couple late additions that hit especially hard right now.

He reads through the prepared list of pointers on what to say to skilfully answer questions about the photos with Charlie and Rory yet say absolutely nothing. He sighs. He never wants to have to talk about them in public ever, especially not to Howard Stern.

“So, Harry, I want to talk about a couple of very interesting photos that have emerged over the past couple of weeks. This is, as your fans have deduced, your long time friend and who we presume to be her baby. This picture of the two of you holding hands looks particularly romantic.”

He schools his expression, trying to maintain his unbothered façade. “Sure,” he says simply, hoping that it comes across nonchalant rather than through gritted teeth.

The studio breaks out in polite giggles assuming that his reply is part of some bit he is doing. “Is that all you’re gonna give us I mean, the fans want to know.”

“Really? Well, like you said my fans know that the woman in the photos has been in my life since I was a kid, and they know that I care about the people in my life a lot.”

“Oh, so you’re confirming that the woman in the photos is your childhood best friend, Charlie? That’s good to know. For someone who’s been around you for so long we know very little about her.”

He hates that Stern knows her name. “Umm, well there isn’t much to know. She’s just a regular person, regular job, regular life. So, not much to talk about.” His non-statement is punctuated with a challenging eyebrow quirk as if daring Howard to say anything else about Charlie.

“Okay, I guess that is all Harry Styles wants to give us today everyone.”

Harry has never been so glad to talk about Sarah and Mitch. He’ll have to thank them for taking the heat off him later.

When he’s finally done with a long day of clenching his jaw and biting his tongue, he’s stopped in the carpark by his assistant. “Your apartment security needs you to pick up a package when you get back. They say it has to be by today.”

He assumed that it’s just a wardrobe item from Lambert that needs to be approved, so he’s fully confused by the bouquet of flowers awaiting him. He pulls out the little card.

Dear H,

Congrats on the new album! I know everyone will love it and love you just like we do. I’m proud of the star you’ve become, and Rory and I can’t wait for you to come home, she wants to celebrate with her Uncle Harry. xx

Love, Charlie and Rory

The fact that he made it into the lift before starting to cry is a feat. This wasn’t a breathy, body-wracking kind of cry. He doesn’t even realise he is crying until tears start falling onto the card that he can’t seem to peel his eyes from.

Friends fight all the time, but Harry and Charlie aren’t regular friends. She must have arranged for the delivery before the dreaded call because he isn’t convinced that she’s misses him right now. Why would she.

His heart plumets back to the bottom of his stomach. What is supposed to be a career milestone is now marred by his jealously and possessiveness over someone he has no right feeling that way towards.

He wants to celebrate with them, more than anything. He wants to dance around the living room with Rory in his arms while Charlie drinks in the album with his mum and sister on the sofa. Like a family.

With a restless heart, he squeezes his eyes shut and goes through the rollerdex of memories of the three of them to soothe himself to sleep.

Charlie feels like a terrible friend when she needs to be reminded that her best friend’s third album is dropping via an email invoice from a florist, a florist that she doesn’t even remember engaging.

She was excited for the release. The sitter has been booked for the night of the One Night Only show, where she intended to debut the Gucci flares Harry bought her to match with him a little, ever since the date got confirmed. Now, she supposes, it’d be stupid of her to assume that he even wants her there, tainting a celebratory night with memories of their falling out.

Was it just a falling out though? There was a finality about it that left a funny feeling in her chest. But there is no way she’s going to be the one to reach out and apologise first. Sure, she said some hurtful things, but so did he. After having forgiven Richard, a task she previously thought would be impossible, she’s frankly over being forgiving.

If she sits unoccupied in silence for too long, the fear that Fine Line may now be the last album release she gets to be a part of would creep in. If she had somehow foreseen this falling out, she would have made more of an effort to celebrate with him that year.

It doesn’t help that on the day of release, Charlie receives a package from LA addressed to her with no return address – not that it’s needed, there’s only one person who would send her stuff from LA. She’s hesitant to open it. Maybe he’s shipped her old books and things back, like an actual break up. That would hurt.

The offending package stays sealed on the coffee table all day, floating in the back of her mind as she moves through a long day of corporate work and mum work. When Rory waddles over and drags it onto the carpet with a thud, she knows that the package can’t be a coffee table fixture any longer.

“You want to see what Uncle Harry sent huh, lovie.”

Rory, wide-eyed and rosy cheeked, leans onto her shoulder for support as she mumbles, “Yummy.” That’s her new word of the week.

Sitting the package in her lap, she slices it open with shaky hands, pre-emptively wincing.

The first thing that greets her is a folded piece of lined paper, clearly ripped out of a notebook. Setting that under her thigh – she’ll tackle that later when she is at liberty to sob into her blanket – item after item gets pulled out of the deceptively small box. Unfolding the pieces of clothing reveals a hoodie with ‘Harry’s House’ printed on the right corner and a shirt with an upside down flowerpot plastered on the front. Accompanying them is a Rory-sized sweat set with the same branding, packed with a note saying, ‘Maybe seeing my name written on her pants will help her learn my name xx’.

A wave of emotion washes over her, breath hitching. She’s confused. He writes as if nothing had happened between them, as if certain he’ll be back to cuddle Rory the moment her bottom lip turns downward.

Leaning to the side to release the note, she unfolds it, which takes an embarrassing amount of tries because she is full on shaking now. Her chest is tight. Her lungs don’t fill fully with air.

Dear Charlie,

I promise to apologise for what I said but I want to do that in person. I understand if you don’t want to see or hear from me, so while I’ll miss you at the shows (you also have Manchester tickets if you change your mind), it won’t feel right if you’re not part of this release. It probably makes me even more of a prick to send you stuff with my face and name all over it but it’s a good thing that being a prick comes naturally to me.

I want you to have something from this release because a piece (a big piece) of the album is yours, just like all the previous albums. You’re my muse always, and now monkey is too. So many of these songs are for you. I’m not going to embarrass you, and me, by telling you which songs were inspired by you and the life we’ve shared. If you can bring yourself to, I want you to listen to the album knowing that there’s no Harry without Charlie, and there are a few songs that I wrote after spending those weeks with the both of you. They were too good to be true and I needed to immortalise those feelings somehow.

I’ll earn your trust again, swear on my life. I want to be in monkey’s life forever, even if it means sharing her with someone else. You can scream and hit me, send me a Christmas list every year, or make me play nice with Richard every day. I’ll do anything. Call if you or monkey need me, and I’ll be right there.

Please let me see the both of you again. I love you. Both of you.

Love,

H xxx

Charlie blinks furiously to try and hold the tears back, eyes stinging from how hard she’s been staring at the letter, reading his words over and over, only forcing herself to look away when her vision gets too blurry.

There’s a good couple of hours before midnight when the album comes out. Hopefully the nightly chores are enough to occupy her mind. She doesn’t know if she’ll make it to midnight if she has to sit in her thoughts for more than a minute.

You’re my muse always. There’s no Harry without Charlie.

That’s all she hears in the back of her head in between each song as she makes her way down the track list, back resting against her headboard. Her mind inadvertently scans each title and lyric for something, anything; anything to help her make sense of what Harry meant.

As It Was lulls her into a false sense of security. That must be the one about her, a song about childhood and change – she ticks all the boxes. A subconscious sigh of relief escapes her lips when the next track starts.

Honestly, Charlie’s not sure what she’s so scared of, this isn’t the first time he’s revealed that she’s inspired songs. He did tell her flat out that he started writing Falling after he woke up from their phone call during an extremely drunk and emotional night. Yet, none of that quite compares to the intimacy of being deemed someone’s muse, a prominent enough source of inspiration for this album to somehow belong to her despite having said or heard nothing. Like she lives in his thoughts, through the flings and the sold out shows, still lingering.

The next two songs are easier pills to swallow. She doesn’t love being reminded that Harry loves love and has good sex, but the years have taught her how to switch off the possessive part of her brain and just enjoy the good music. Needless to say, she’s a little blindsided by the chorus of Matilda.

It’s definitely not subtle. Vague, yes. But not subtle. Doesn’t help that he sent Rory a Matilda picture book like month ago.

It’s like a slap in the face.

She wants to dig up her anger towards Harry and feel offended and hurt, be mad at him for harbouring these feelings about her life as if she didn’t deserve to know. But she knows she can’t, the emotional turmoil and confusion wasn’t enough to turn off the rational part of her brain.

She remembers what he told her: you’re doing such a good job raising her, she’s such a happy baby.

She is starting her own family, with her, Rory, and maybe Richard. Richard probably doesn’t love Rory yet, but he must be on his way. So, Harry’s right, she is starting a family that will be full of love.

This new rush of motivation builds within her until the croon of Boyfriends registers and knocks all it down. She’s sitting up now, eyes narrowed and face scrunched as if the song is a nuanced piece of poetry filled with metaphors and symbolism, instead of a pop song that blatantly slags off shitty boyfriends and relationships.

It just seems a little too on the nose. He did call her stupid, and if she hadn’t hung up on him, he might have called her a fool as well.

Squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose, she wills the creeping feeling that this song is about her and Richard away. He only found out about Richard a couple weeks ago, she reassures herself, there’s no way he wrote, recorded, and produced this song in time.

Unfortunately, one of the other possible explanations might be even worse – he wrote this before Richard was back in the picture, meaning, again, that he has felt this way for more than a month and he just failed to tell her, for whatever reason.

If Harry really thinks that she’s an idiot for letting Richard back in and wanting to be part of a loving family, then she’s crushed. Especially because that would make Rory a clumsy mistake. Collateral damage. A product of her stupidity.

A shiver shoots up her body as she jolts out of her reverie, finger hastily pausing the album.

No, there’s no way. How could she even think that? This is Harry, her Harry. All he’s done is love her, and the tenderness in his eyes whenever he looked at Rory simply cannot be faked. Also, he would never air his disapproval to millions before speaking to her about it. Despite how shitty his words were, he’s not that scummy.

Tilting her head back to rest against the headboard, she shakily gasps through her mouth as if crying silently. Soon, her breaths quicken, chest rising and falling dramatically. She’s sobbing, but there are no tears. A pathetic sight, truly.

She hates herself. Truly. Turns out being abandoned doesn’t make you more independent. Just desperate for love and approval.

She feels alone and admonished, like she should have known better than to have her hopes pinned on two men. And when she feels like this, the only thing her heart craves is Harry. Her Harry. The Harry who begged her parents to let her come along with Anne to his X Factor audition because having her backstage would make him sing better.

Before she can second guess herself, she reaching for her phone and sends a quick message, not even thinking before pressing send.

It’s good.

With a sigh of resignation, she locks her phone and slides under the covers, ready for the day to end. She turns away from the side table before the screen awakes with a notification.

I’m glad. xx

“You wanna dance, Rory?”

Charlie’s making her morning coffee with a smiley baby standing by her on a little babyproof stool.

“Yay!” Rory wears a bright open-mouthed grin, showing off her growing teeth. She’s swaying back and forth, smacking her hands on the countertop.

She’s such a happy baby.

“Hey Google, play Late Night Talking by Harry Styles on Spotify.”

Gripping the safety bar in front of her, Rory starts giggling and bouncing along.

Another weekend, another play date with Richard. They’re going to farmers market to let Rory do some arts and crafts with the other local children. It’ll be their first time being co-parents in front of others. Charlie spent all night trying to decide how much of a couple they should be. Most of the other parents would know that they had separated, and because of that stupid photograph, everyone knows that they have reunited in some capacity.

She’s not looking forward to the watchful eyes.

Just when she thinks enough time has passed for the town to no longer find her little scandal exciting, fucking Richard comes back into the picture to invite another season of viewers.

“I’m going to get her cleaned up and changed. Make yourself comfortable, or … reacquainted I guess.”

It’s the first time Richard has made it through the doorway since leaving. He didn’t officially move in when they were together because he insisted on keeping his house as a ‘creative getaway’. In hindsight, that should have been a glaring red flag, especially since ‘creative’ is not how anyone would describe Richard. But it all worked out, in a way. Now that she trusts him to carry her daughter, she figures that he can be trusted to wait in the living room.

When Charlie returns to the living room, Richard is studying the coffee table book about photography she bought as home décor after he left, appearing to be midway through a lap around the living room.

Charlie checked every romance cliché after being abandoned. Cut and dyed her hair, blocked Richard and any mutual friends (or more accurately, his friends that later became ‘their’ friends), and did a deep clean of their previously shared house before redecorating everything – she tried looking at the bright side by constantly telling herself that being alone meant that she could finally decorate how she wanted, without having to accommodate his ‘boy junk’.

The easy to clean, minimalist aesthetic was swapped for a more eclectic one, one that felt her own and cosy. A mustard yellow footstool to accompany a burnt orange rug in the living room, a pair of cow mugs as ornaments on the shelf, and a High School Musical poster she found in at the bottom of her drawer. It’s not like she has one night stands to impress, so why not do her morning skincare next to a Troy Bolton poster blu-tacked next to the dresser. In hindsight, the minimalist living room would be easier to babyproof, but growing up surrounded by colour can’t be a bad thing for a baby.

As much as she hates to admit it, the romcom heroines were right.

Changing these things did feel like she was ridding herself of the past, ridding herself of the Charlie that people were okay leaving behind, the Charlie that was pitiful. It marked the start of a new life for herself.

Seeing a piece of her ‘old life’ in her new living room does feel strange. She can tell he feels strange too. Out of place. From the kitchen, she watches Richard move about as if he’s in a museum, inspecting and observing, occasionally picking things up to get a closer look, hands returning to their place behind his back every time. She tries to get a read on his expression. The coffee table book gets no reaction, his mouth staying in a straight, tight line. Her CD collection, however, gets a brow quirk and a scoff, the latter in response to the Harry’s House CD that accompanied the clothing.

Guess their little man rivalry is still not over.

He doesn’t comment about what she’s done to her house. In fact, he doesn’t say much to her the whole morning. He played nice in front of the other parents at the market, cracking jokes and skilfully skirting around questions about their relationship. He also did well with his daughter, who seemed to finally start to recognise him, helping her reach for markers and stickers, and giving her little high fives. His odd lukewarm energy was only directed at Rory when the radio playing throughout the market started playing a familiar song.

It took a couple seconds for the little girl to register and recognise the synth, but when she did, she turned to look at her mother, as if for confirmation that she is hearing one of the Uncle Harry’s songs. Rory shared a smile with Charlie and used the crafts table to stabilise herself as she bounces along to the music.

“Yeah Rory, it’s Uncle Harry. You like this song, don’t you? My clever girl.” Charlie pushed Rory’s hair away from her eyes. In her periphery, she saw Richard’s face drop into something unpleasant.

It was like his mask slipped for a split second, the change in expression so sudden and abrupt. By the time Rory turned to face him, hoping to dance with him, his features evened back out.

Despite how closely they were being watched, Charlie doesn’t think, or at least she hoped, that anyone else sensed that change in Richard. If not, the rumour mill would not stop turning, spinning some sort of story about a rivalry about these two men competing over her daughter.

Charlie decides to say something once they get back and has Rory’s lunch settled.

“Is something going on? You’ve been kind of quiet today, and at the market you became a little strange.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows. There is something in his tone that makes Charlie feel like she’s being challenged. “Yeah, you think?”

She fights hard not to roll her eyes. She doesn’t want this to escalate. “We were together for two years. I think I can tell when you’re a little off.”

“Okay, tell me then.”

“You have just been more quiet than usual and when Rory wanted to dance with you, you didn’t try to engage with her like I expected. On any other day I’d think you would have jumped at the opportunity to -”

“- jumped at the opportunity to what? Gain your approval? Win you over? Seems a bit too late for that.”

She’s confused by his sudden animosity. “No, not mine. Rory’s.”

“Hah. Seems like its too late for that too.”

“Okay, what’s going on?”

He leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. “Nothing, nothing.” He takes a sip of water. “I’ve just realised that Harry fucking Styles is always going to be one step ahead of me and I don’t know why I try.”

“Harry?” she asks. After a beat of silence, she asks again. “What does Harry have to do with anything?”

“You tell me because for some reason, even when it comes to my daughter, he wins. I thought that a couple weeks head start can’t be that much, I’m her father. Yet for some reason, he’s managed to win her over before I could get a fair shot.” He rolls his eyes then mumbles, “She must get that from you.”

Charlie takes a beat to stew over his words. There’s something about what he said that makes her stomach turn. At first, she thinks it’s his tone, that mix of condescension and arrogance, as if he was robbed of something, as if she robbed him of something.

“Richard, if something is bothering you just tell me what it is and stop speaking in code. Whatever weird competition you think you have with –“

She freezes midsentence, unblinking.

“What?” he asks.

Her head snaps to face the man in her kitchen. Rory, who appears to be oblivious to the tension in the air, continues to fist smushed blueberries into her mouth.

“How did you know Harry met Rory before you?”

He thinks for a second, then says, “Because you have his album lying around and photos with him on the fridge. And c’mon, one of his new songs play and Rory is somehow able to recognise it.”

“No, you specifically said that he met her a couple weeks before you.” A beat of silence passes. Then, the lump in her throat grows so large that she has to physically swallow before she can speak again. “I think,” she pauses to steady her voice, “I think you lied to me. You lied to me about not knowing that I kept the baby.”

“Woah, lied is a bit of a strong word Charles,” he says, still trying to keep his tone casual.

Charlie’s having none of it. She’s over being lied to and made to look the fool.

She goes straight in, sounding nothing short of accusatory. “Why did you come back, Richard? Because of some sick game you think you have with Harry, some sick game that you’ve decided to drag me and my daughter into?”

“Oh, so now she’s back to being your daughter is she?”

“Please, you don’t have to act like you care about her anymore. Tell me the truth. Now.”

“Fine,” he throws his hands up like he’s being accosted, “do you know how humiliating it is to find out about your daughter from everyone else? How much it sucks to be sent link after link of Daily Mail articles because your daughter has apparently been photographed with Harry Styles? For fuck’s sake.”

“Do you know how humiliating it is to have basically the whole town know that your long term partner doesn’t love you enough to stay and raise a child with you? You didn’t even stay long enough to talk about it, ask whether I wanted to keep or abort it. The minute you heard I was pregnant you took off spouting some bullshit excuse.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Is that what you want to hear? But I spent years being compared to Harry. Your friends, family, neighbours, everyone. All they talked about was how sweet Harry is, how successful Harry is. He may have managed to charm everyone else in this town, but he has not fooled me. I see him for the cocky douche he is. I tried to be nice to him because he’s your best friend or whatever, but I’m tired of being the bigger person and ignoring his stupid smirks and snide comments. And because you decided to go parading around with him and Rory, all I’ll ever hear is how good he looks with her. I can’t let that fucker haunt me even after I’ve washed my hands off of you.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” she goes to pick Rory out of the highchair and hugs her protectively to her chest, “but doesn’t just look good with her, he is good with her. And whatever perceived rivalry you have with Harry doesn’t justify anything. I’m sorry your male ego is hurt but all of that is in your head, and if you thought that you could be a good father by being fuelled by your pride, then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.

“You lied to me, and you lied to my daughter. What was your plan? To play the role of a doting father until you got Rory more attached to you than to Harry, then disappear from her life again once you felt satisfied? Get a grip Richard, you’re almost 30. No one is playing these stupid games but you.

“I know those years meant nothing to you, but it meant something to me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d think about someone else for once and never come near me or my daughter ever again.”

Richard scoffs, face straining so hard that he’s almost vibrating. “Fine. Don’t come crawling back to me for help when Mr. Popstar gets too busy for the both of you. If you want to be delusional and think that he’s going to stick around this little town for you, you are more than welcome.”

His gaze on them as he leaves is so piercing that she instinctively cups the back of Rory’s head to shield her.

When the door slams shut, her daughter flinches in her arms a little. The silence is deafening, ringing in her ears as the weight of what just happened slowly sinks in.

Mindlessly, her body moves to wash the dried food on Rory’s face and seats her in the middle of the play area. Charlie’s body all but crumples onto the sofa, eyes staring straight ahead. Feeling tears start to well, she tips her head back to look up at the ceiling, willing them back into her eyes. She refuses to cry over that piece of shit ever again.

At least she managed to keep herself from screaming. The last thing she wants is to scare her daughter.

She’s such a happy baby.

She feels like she’s underwater. Everything around her is blurry, head filled with muffled voices. Her head feels like it’s rocking, being pushed and pulled by the rolling of waves as she slowly floats to the surface. Like the sharpness of taking a deep gasp of air, there is a pinch in her chest that forces her to come to her senses and digest the intensity of the last fifteen minutes.

Apparently, she is incapable of keeping people from walking out of her life. Even with her best efforts and best intentions, she managed to push away two people from Rory’s life - one person twice - all before she turns two. That has to be some kind of record.

It’s funny, she feels raw and wounded. Richard came and plugged this hole in her heart, the hole that he happened to leave behind. And yet now, she is in no hurry to mend that hole, to rebuild those walls and go back to not needing anyone else. Making amends is admitting defeat, admitting that Richard had the power to hurt her; trying to undo the damage means acknowledging that there is damage, and wearing her weakness on her sleeve.

She’s tired.

So what if people know that she’s unwanted goods? You can’t break what’s already broken. If people want to come in and out of her life, so be it. The only person she needs to protect is Rory. People can use her until they lose interest for all she cares. They just can’t use Rory. She’s more than happy to be an emotional punching bag if it means that she keeps her daughter sheltered from it all.

Harry was right. She is stupid. Stupid to think that Richard had a change of heart and stupid to be so ready to let people into Rory’s life. Good thing Richard left as soon as he came. Rory didn’t get a chance to get attached to him, unlike with Harry.

Harry. She needs to apologise to Harry.

Charlie is a coward. A coward and a pushover.

All the pink cowboy hats and feather boas in the train carriage are mocking her. She keeps her head tipped downwards, staring down at her phone, hoping that none of the fans recognise her.

She knew this was a bad idea. But when Anne calls telling you how excited she is to finally be going to a concert with you again, how do you say no. She can’t exactly tell Anne that her son called her stupid and a crap mother, so she’s still too hurt to see him, but turns out he was right so she is also embarrassed.

The train to London was nerve wrecking. All she could think about was what to say to him when they finally met, if she should apologise first, and if they should talk then and there. Some higher power must have been working in her favour because the train got delayed just enough to allow her to make it for the concert while skipping the pre-show socialising in the friends and family area where Harry was sure to have made an appearance.

Leaning against the train window, the roughness of the tracks causes her head to jostle around. It’s a welcomed disturbance. It keeps her anchored to reality, stopping her from getting too lost in the mental image of Harry’s face when he spotted her in the crowd. If she had blinked, she would have missed it. Just the quickest flash of realisation, brows falling for a split second, almost impossible to read from so far away. She has no idea if it was relief or disappointment. It didn’t help that he proceeded to avoid eye contact with her for the rest of the concert.

So, she fled. Using Rory as an excuse, as per usual. She told Anne and Gemma she had to catch the next train home and couldn’t stick around to wait to see Harry. After smiling apologetically when Anne half-heartedly scolded her for not bringing Rory with her, she wedged her purse securely under her arm and legged it, making her way to the station amidst the swarm of fans who were still screaming and crying from the experience.

It is only when she locks the front door behind the babysitter that she lets her guard down, shoulders slouching and face falling, exhausted from contorting her face and body to hopefully emanate the vibe that she was happy to be there. She was, truly. She loves supporting him. Supporting him just becomes ten times more exhausting when you are constantly self-conscious about how you are being perceived by the thousands of people in the arena, and worried that you are unwanted.

Despite how drained she is, sleep does not come easy. She is restless, her head refusing to stop going a hundred miles an hour. She isn’t even thinking about anything really, it’s just white noise, refusing to go away.

Finally, she reaches for her phone. Squinting at the sudden brightness, the text is typed and sent in less than a minute.

Sorry I couldn’t stay, but I’m proud of you. Electric as always.

Her heart settles when the small ‘delivered’ sign appears.

When she wakes up, there is no reply.

taglist (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part): @harrysfolklore @behindmygreyeyes @suspectedstyles @celestial-holland @xcaitlin101x @outofthisworl-d @haz-nn @zaynshoes @lissymarie22

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #harry styles writing

194 notes · View notes

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Note

hi there lovely! i've read a few stories you've written and i'm absolutely smitten by your works! the way you portray simon is exactly how i imagine him to be. i really love how detailed you can write all your fics and i'm here for it!

i have a few questions + request tho if you don't mind and please you can just skip the question or request if you feel uncomfy with it! :)

my request: could you write anything for ghost x (f) reader what takes place in like 1700's/1800's (anything historical) with an angsty trope but happy ending? (i really love historical ff's)

question 1: i still haven't read the roommate series but i've seen that it has 4 chapters, did it already end or will there be more chapters? (i really want to read it when it ends because i can read it all in one sitting then lmao)

question 2: do you plan on writing another series with ghost? (i'm just really in love with that big guy and the way you write him is just... the perfect combination. please don't feel pressured! i'm just really curious)

question 3: do you have any tips for people who want to start writing? english is not my native language and i really want to start writing but i'm quite insecure:(

these were my questions and i hope i wasn't bothering you!

btw i really like how friendly you answer another anon's asks!

thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to read all of your amazing works!

keep up the great work and ily!🤍

Hi anon! Thank you so much for liking my work, you don't know how much I appreciate it. I'll just go down the list of things you sent in order and answer them!

Request: I absolutely can! I'm a huge fan of historical stuff. I will try to come up with something that would work but right now it would either be some kind of regency period drama or it could be cowboys! If you have something specific feel free to send it in my inbox!

Question 1: The Roommate Series is not over! There are still plenty of parts/extras I have planned. Sorry you might have to wait a while.

Question 2: yes!! I’ve got other ideas with the big guy that I’ll be working on eventually

Question 3: I have a few tips for new writers

Practice! I hate when people says this I know but they’re right. Just write whatever comes to mind no matter how “bad” it is. Bad is subjective which means that it might not be bad. I still practice with my writing every day

Have fun! Writing is about expression and writing is a part of yourself. Have fun with it. Write that cheesy romance, write that really easily solvable mystery. If it makes you happy and you’re having fun then that’s all that matters

Other peoples opinions don’t matter! If someone makes fun of what you write, tell them to go fuck themselves. Did they spend hours, days, years, writing something from the heart and using blood sweat and tears for it? No so why would what they say have to matter. If it makes you happy, then that’s what’s truly matters. Don’t be afraid to write something because you don’t think it’s good or because your first language isn’t English! Just have fun and let yourself be happy!

I hope that was helpful!! I like talking to you guys so keep sending in asks. Hope you have a good day anon and keep writing!!

#asks #mwuah

9 notes · View notes

just-some-sad-kiddo · 1 year

Text

This morning, I woke up a little before my alarm and did a little bit of journaling since I don’t like going on electronics first thing in the morning. It was nice to get some thoughts out. I’m thinking that when my Google home arrives, I’ll set it up to play some easy, gentle music in the morning. I also need to get a blindfold or something for my morning meditation because I get distracted too easily when I open my eyes but I always forget to keep them closed.

I think I want to try putting boba into the Yorkshire tea. I mean, it’s just milk tea. They just call it tea here, of course, but for me it’s milk tea. Charlotte told me that there was a good Asian food shop in York that she and her friends go to sometimes.

I need to ask Shannon if he wants to visit for Christmas. Mom said that she’d pay for his ticket if he did since Dad wouldn’t be obligated to at that point. I hope that he does decide to come since we did have a lot of fun when all of us went to England together the last time.

So, I’ve started writing my thoughts on paper during the day so that I don’t get distracted while I’m trying to work. I think I might also start doing a handwriting journal since, honestly, my handwriting could be better.

I need to start working on my GCSE shit. That’s the English version of the SATs but I need to figure out how they work and how to study for them. I was hoping that i’d be able to find some kind of remote option for school since that’s what I’m used to, but all of the remote options don’t work for me. First off, they’re expensive as hell and second, they never have any art courses. It makes sense that you have to do art in-person but my last school experience was so miserable that I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. I’ve really been spoiled lately with my online learning i’ve been doing for the past year. I wear what I want, eat what I want, work when I want, and I can wear my headphones so that I don’t experience any sensory overload. I can’t do pretty much any of that shit at Selby which is just fantastic. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever failed a class due to my literal disability. Oh, wait. I have. Multiple times. Of course, when I expressed my concerns to Mom, she did the thing where it’s illegal for me to be upset. Honestly, why do I tell her anything anymore? She does this every time. If I went back through my journal and looked, I’d probably find a thousand times she’s done this. I seriously need to remember not to say anything negative around her ever. She’s the only one who is allowed emotions. Who cares that I had a meltdown earlier today because Athena and Eris wouldn’t stop fighting? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. I’m just an angsty teenage pessimist who doesn’t have any real problems.

This house is really cold, but nobody wants to turn the heat on because of how expensive electricity is right now because of the Russia/Ukraine war. I can’t even step into the kitchen barefoot or my feet will literally freeze. Trust me, I tried it yesterday. Worst mistake of my life.

I’m really, really excited to start working. I turned in my resume today at Gingers, but I don’t really think I’ll get the job. For one, I didn’t have a UK phone number so I put Tony’s on my CV. And, since Angela wasn’t there, I didn’t have the opportunity to tell her that it was Tony’s number. It seems unprofessional to have your parents number on your CV, is it not? But, anyway, when I get my new number I’m going to apply at the list of places Tony gave me. Luckily, everything in Howden closes by 3 anyways. I want to save up money so I can perm my hair nicely and also get my workout clothes and duffle bag for the gym. I also would like to get a Squarespace subscription so I can get myself a professional website to host my work. And buy a not-shitty printer.

I went to the park. It was nice, although I did get lost on the way. I also got lost when turning in my CV. It makes things harder that everyone drives like a psycho here. Literally insane.

The lock on the door is still fucked up so Tony called locksmith so come fix it. In the meantime, I wanted to go to the gym so Paul drove me. I would have taken the bus, but much like in Fort Collins, they stop running really early. Also, they’re really expensive and all owned by private companies that don’t communicate with eachother. Thing is, I didn’t realize I’d have to get an induction as I’d never heard of that before. We call them orientations in America, but I’d never heard of that either. In fact, it seems I’m the only one whose never heard of that because everyone else knew what was going on. Anyway, I’ve set it up for 10:00am Saturday.

The gym is near these flats which are apparently very dangerous according to Tony and Paul. They say they’ve had the most bodies they’re from drugs and people jumpin’ out of windows. I forgot that Paul was also in the medical field.

#easybreezy

0 notes

tvrningout-archived · 2 years

Note

4 & 5!

@never-surrender | munday for multi's | accepting!

4. which muse would you say is the most fun to write personally?

ahhhh that’s a tough question and it may come as a surprise bc i haven’t written her against many people, but i think chiyo is the most fun for me to write, followed closely by kaiya! it doesn’t surprise me bc chiyo is my oldest muse and the one i’m most attached to :’ ) and her personality for me is just very fun to write -- i get to write way too much about her personal feelings as well as write her being a filthy memer who sends you silly puns and weird videos at 2 am. she’s a muse who offers me the opportunity to write something serious like her growing to love herself and understanding people aren’t as fickle as she thinks while also giving me the chance to write her being silly and teasing and a big ol’ nerd. plus her personality sets the stage for nice slow burn friendships and romantic ships which are!! my favorite <3 overall 10/10 lady who i love to bits!!

and my sweet baby kaiya :’ ))) i love writing her bc she’s just so!!! good!!! actually she’s not just a good egg but the best egg!!!! she’s so soft and warm and accepting and so full of hope and light despite everything, and it makes writing her such a comfort tbh :’ ) she’s another character who thinks they’re the Worst, and once again, i have a lot of fun getting to write the development that goes into her changing the way she sees herself! plus i love getting to write flowery, pretty things with her bc she loves comparing people to nature and admiring the world around her :’ ))

let me just say tho!!! i have a ton of fun writing everyone on my blog, especially the ones i’ve had the pleasure of developing with my partners!!! chiyo and kaiya are just comfort oc’s for me at this point (´꒳`)♡

5. any difficult muses? Or ones that are hard to write for?

hmm, i’d say i usually have difficulty writing a muse if i let them sit for too long, which usually happens if i feel there isn’t a lot of interest for them. it’s kinda hard for me to remain excited when i feel alone in that excitement ;n; but sometimes i also just don’t connect as heavily to some muses, or i’m so focused on a certain character that i can’t wake up someone else. it used to be that way for sei! for the life of me, i couldn’t get his muse to wake up until recently. i dunno? his character just kinda woke up one evening like hey : ) write me being angsty : ) so i did and here i am writing him without too much difficulty!

i’ll also say canon muses are always harder for me to write, which is why a chunk of the ones i offer are on the “ secret ” muse roster. i only keep k.aigaku and s.uma openly available bc they’re the easiest ones for me to connect to, but my inspo for them can still waver, and i still choose my oc’s over them a lot of the time. k.aigaku not as much bc i’ve developed him so much, but still. i think this comes from my brain having a need to dissect and analyze every bit of info i’m given on a character, which takes time and rereading whereas with my oc’s, most of that knowledge is burned into my brain asdfg

#never surrender #there was no reason for me to talk that much i'm so sorry jess asdfgh #but thank you for sending these in!!#get ready to ramble | ooc

1 note · View note

dark-noctis · 3 years

Text

Favorite tropes/AUs list to inspire writers

I personally find these posts very helpful when I'm experiencing writer's block, which I currently am, so I thought why not do something like this in the hopes of getting inspired myself along the way. If your writing has any of these tropes, tag me. I want to see them so badly

Romance:

- Angry love confession but make it a bit more angsty: Character X risks their life to save character Y and they barely make it out alive. Cut to X waking up only to be greeted with an absolutely furious Y. They ask something in the context of why are you so mad at me, dumbfounded, but Y just yells because I love you

- Hurt/comfort is top notch for friends to lovers slow burn, to be honest. BUT it's before the relationship is established, and they're touching each other way too much, the line between friendship and something more intimate utterly blurred. The hug extends longer than it should, the one who's comforting the other strokes the other's hair in a way that can't be platonic, that type of shit. The pining and inner panic. Bonus if it's queer.

- Rivals/enemies to lovers and forced proximity. Either they're united under the same goal, locked away, or any other plot device you use to improve this. The slow burn and banter this trope serves is probably unmatched.

-Character X is bilingual. Before a particularly dangerous mission or the aftermath of a catastrophic event, Character X calls Character Y a word of endearment in their native tongue (could be love, darling or anything you wish really) and Y only understands what the word meant when they hear it with context days/weeks later. (Preferably enemies to lovers again)

- Okay this one is a personal favorite. Character X confesses their feelings for Character Y, truly believing that their love is unrequited. The dialogue goes something like Say that again / Don't mock me, please / You misunderstand. I am not mocking you, [name], I am asking the person I love to tell me they love me again.

- Characters X and Y had a really bad fight that ended in X saying they never want to see Y again. A few weeks/months/years later, Y goes to X, about to die, says that they wanted to see X one more time before dying then loses consciousness. Ultimately up to you if they die or not, but I love the angst either way.

-One MC being completely oblivious to the other one's jealousy. So fun to both write and read.

Character arcs & plot:

- Fantasy/sci-fi MC going BAMF. I don't care if there's romance for this or not, I just love it. Sheer show of power. Awestruck enemies. Aftermath that leaves the MC questioning their morality. God-tier.

- Already low-key morally grey protagonist slowly turning evil. Bonus points if it's in fantasy and their actions are grander than they could ever be in contemporary. Because let's face it, the sunshine friend becoming a cheater doesn't really do much, but a hero turning against the people who they would have sacrificed everything for mere months ago? Phenomenal.

- One MC being extremely hurt, bloody and bruised, knocking on the other MC's door, saying I didn't know where else to go and collapsing before the MC can even make sense of what's happening. Except that they're the most unlikely person —either a protagonist/antagonist, hero/villain or similar dynamic— they would ever go to, but MC has no other choice but to help. Not necessarily romantic, but that also works just as well. (Again, probably works best in fantasy. Apologies to my contemporary writers, I swear I'll do you good.)

- Usually emotionally distant character being really honest and vulnerable and loving when drunk. This isn't necessarily meant for romance, it can be a friendship, mentor/mentee bond, found family, or QPR. Anyway, the MC is vulnerable for the first time in front of the other(s) and they find it endearing, their bond naturally strengthening after whatever progresses.

- The private school friend group trope will never get old for me. Especially if they're overtly pretentious and elitist, and the whole book is just a mockery of that whilst still developing the plot & character arcs efficiently.

Some other things I love:

- Literary references. This usually appears in works with Dark Academia themes like The Secret History, but your work desn't necessarily have to be like that. Quotes in other languages, references to classics, quoting poetry.

- Mythology retellings. Bonus if it's something other than the Trojan War, there are rather a lot of books on it. (And I eat it up every time, what about it?) Doesn't have to be Greek Mythology, I love seeing more unique ones, especially Egyptian and Norse.

-Poetic language. This is more about the writer's style and the scene being written, but I love flowery language at times if it flows well and doesn't outshine the plot & characters.

AUs:

(This part is for my fanfiction writers. I adore you all. Anyway, getting to the point.)

- Modern Royalty AUs for historical dramas or period pieces. When I tell you that this AU is so good if you want to write forbidden romance and angst I mean it.

- It may be the biggest cliche ever, but I'm weak for coffee shop AUs. Sue me, but they're comforting. Amazing opportunity to write fluff, if you will.

-Can't go wrong with the aftermath of torture + hurt/comfort combination.

-Reincarnation AUs. Pretty self explanatory, I think. Bonus points if it's matched with a soulmate AU if you're writing romance and they fall in love in each life time.

#writing prompts #my writing #writing prompt #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #tropes #dialogue ideas #ship dynamics #enemies to lovers #fantasy #villain x hero #hero x villain

974 notes · View notes

genshinlover101 · 2 years

Note

Can i req jean x gn reader who's known her since childhood? Reader used to be a Knight of Favonius who decided to go into the abyss to avenge their family. How would Jean react to reader becoming stronger and more stoic after what they've seen in the abyss?

Her Reaction to Your Change from the Abyss

Character: Jean x gn!reader

Warnings: none

A/n: I’m going to be honest I didn’t mean to make this as angsty as I did? I kind of gave it a bad ending and I hope that’s alright

• Jean knows firsthand the monstrosities you’ve experienced after your family’s death at the hands of the Abyss. Ever since you both were younger you’d support each other through thick and thin, you both owed each other a great amount.

• When you grew older, Jean watched you turn blood-thirsty and vengeful against the Abyss. She knew better than anybody what the Abyss was capable of, and with Varka around, she couldn’t support you. All she could do was vehemently advise against your plans.

• She didn’t want to lose you, anybody but you. She waited patiently every day for you to return when you left for the Abyss, never fully knowing if her other half would return safely or not.

Jean ended up drowning herself in work to distract herself from your absence. Usually, you two would be together like glue whenever given the opportunity, this feeling of missing was strange to her. That was until she heard her office door slam open, Lisa stood underneath the frame. “Hurry, you must see this dear Jean. They’re back,” Lisa said slightly winded.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jean slammed her desk and stood up. “I’ll be going then,” she dismissed herself going to the plaza in the center of Mondstadt. There you were standing beside a fountain, looking at the running water. She rushed to your side, “excuse me, pardon me,” she said trying to slide past the crowd of citizens.

You felt a tight tug at your wrist, turning to see the culprit was Jean. “I’ve got you,” she snarled. Her hands traveled up to your cheeks, her blue eyes analyzing every aspect of her face to see if this was some sort of sick joke. Her voice trembled. “You have no idea how much I worried for you the night you left.”

Her head drooped and rested on your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat to confirm this was reality. Only for her big blue eyes to look directly into yours, looking for any sort of reaction from you other than silence. What she saw was unfamiliar, you were right in front of her, but at the same time, you weren’t. “Say something,” she said desperately. “What’s wrong? Are you injured?” She inquired, her hands now searching you for anything wrong or out of place.

“It’s nothing Jean,” you mumbled under your breath. She froze at the sound of your voice, something obviously wasn’t right. Her brows knitted together in frustration.

“You’re lying,” she backed away from you, pointing a finger at you in accusation. “There’s no way, somethings wrong. If you just tell me I can fix it,” she stammered, trying to find any excuse to blame for your behavior.

“Trust me, I’m fine Jean,” you asserted. She knew you all too well though, or at least, she thought she did. The old you would’ve reassured her more, would’ve cared to tell her about your journey. You would’ve joked around with her, and given her a great big bear hug when she approached you first. She looked down at her shoes, her fists clenched, she had a deep feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was going to change for the worst.

“That’s not true,” she whispered so quietly that you couldn’t make it out. “I’m sorry, I should’ve gone with you despite Grand Master Varka’s orders. Maybe then… maybe then I could’ve known what changed you.”

She ran away, disappearing within the crowd that concealed you to wherever she might seek refugee too. You didn’t even bother to chase her, something that the old you would’ve done without a second thought. How weak, you thought.

#jean x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #jean gunnhildr

180 notes · View notes

nanamislvr · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅

sypnosis: Gojo has lost his lover and it marks 2 years since she’s been gone, today is the day he’ll see her again.

pairing: gojo satoru /fem!reader

warnings: character death, blood mentions, angst, mourning, death blaming

a/n: when I think of gojo losing someone he loves it’s always really angsty and he tends to try to push it down to avoid those feelings, anyway i love him

Gojo is the strongest sorcerer in japan. Curses are usually nothing to him, the ones that are created from sadness left behind can be crushed like a bug with a snap of his finger. However there’s one curse he can’t seem to kill no matter how bad he tries, his cursed energy doesn’t work. It’s not one he can see with his six eyes, he can’t hear it’s groggy voice at night talking like a broken record, but he can feel it. He can feel the heaviness in his heart that weighs him down every time he passes by your photo.

He can feel the curse tug at his heart strings each time he thinks of you by his side. Every time he’s reminded of you the whole in his chest gets bigger. No matter what Gojo Satoru does, this curse is no match for him.

If you were here still, you’d probably tell him to get up from the bed he’s been in for a month and go get some sunlight. You’d probably open the curtains and make him stand in front of the window and he would argue with you like a kid. Then you’d scold him and he’d laugh and he’d be able to hear the sound of your laughter echoing through the room one last time. If only you were here, but you’re not, so the curtains remain shut and your husband stays in his bed with a pillow stained from dried up tears.

The sound of his front door opening up should startle him but he doesn’t pay any mind to it, nor to the footsteps that only seem to get closer. His head doesn’t perch up when a shadow outline appears on the wall either.

“Satoru—”

“Suguru, you know I never go in on this day” he cuts in, finally looking up at the figure that stands at the edge of the bed.

“I know, believe me I do, but everyone else is out and I can’t do this one alone, it’s at the cemetery that she’s at”

Gojos eyes slowly look at Getou with something unreadable. It’s not worry, it’s not fear it’s almost like those cerulean eyes are begging. They’re begging Getou to just go and pretend that he never said those words. The cemetery that he’s talking about is one that Gojo hasn’t ever been to. It’s the one you’re at, the ones he’s avoided for almost 2 years. He thinks about that at night, the fact that he pulled a cowardly move to not see his wife off as she goes 6 feet underground but he remembers that seeing you die was too much. Ever since that day, he’s been scared to go to that cemetery because he’s sure if he saw your tombstone, he’d really be cursed.

Part of him wants to tell Getou to leave. He’d rather stay in his bed today and get swallowed up by tears and the curse that is well known as grief. The other part of him is you, standing by his side and giving him the “you know what you have to do” look. You’d tell him to go out not so he can get some sunlight or to pick up some sweets from the bakery on his way home, but to go out because he needs it, because he needs to go to the cemetery to grieve.

“I’ll go.”

“So where is it?”

“Nanami took care of it already”

“Huh? Then why did you call me out here? You know I don’t come out on this day and of all places you call me here?” his voice begins to shake.

Today marks two years that you’ve been gone. Two years since Gojo has seen your smile that makes his heart swell. Two agonizing years that he’s dealt with this curse of grief following him every place he goes.

“I didn’t know he took care of it, he just texted me when we got here. I know I should have told you but we’re already here Satoru, use this as an opportunity”

Gojo ignored Getou, walking away until he saw you standing. You didn’t move or talk, you just smiled at him the same way you always did. He knew at that moment that if he walked away from this cemetery he would keep living in the same sorrow that he’s been trying to get rid of.

With a sigh Gojo turned back to the cemetery, walking down each path until he reached the one with your last name. He kneeled down until he was on one knee, staring at your tombstone. All he did was take a deep breath and suddenly tears started to fall from his eyes followed by an ache in his heart.

“I’m sorry I never came to see you, I know it must have been lonely,” he mummers, gently tracing the letters of your name on the stone.

Everything starts to rush through him. The last memory he had of you sits on replay but this time he can see it so vividly as he traces the tombstone. You were in his arms with blood seeping from your side. He was taking you to the hospital after you both took care of a curse, or after you took care of too many curses to protect him. Your eyes were barely open when he teleported to the hospital, gaining odd looks from everyone. He remembers the way your eyes fluttered open and how you held onto his hand loosely before speaking.

“I-It’s not your fault, Satoru”

He remembers your hand falling from his grasp, how the only tears falling were his. You had a smile on your face before you spoke, it was the same one you gave him when you’d try to make him feel better. Even at death, you worried for the strongest, for the honored one, for your Satoru.

“Why did you have to protect me? Y-You could have been alive right now if you just let me handle it” he sobs, gripping the stone.

He never knew why, why you killed all of those curses on your own when he was right there with you. Normally he could kill them in a flash but there were just so many that he couldn’t keep a tab on you. They piled up and it was either run or let the curses get away, but you had a third option. Save your husband. Gojo will never know why you didn’t just let him take you to safety, and he never will.

“I’m sorry for making this sad, I’m sorry for being too late, I’m sorry..”

Gojo’s sobs turn into throaty cries. As more tears stream down his face, the weight on his chest lightens like he’s crying out all of his grief that’s been shoved down. It goes like that for an hour until his dull cerulean eyes are swollen and no more tears are able to escape. His mind is empty now, or maybe it’s just too exhausted to think. Numbness starts to set in until a tall figure looms over Gojo from behind.

Getou stands to the side with flowers in his hand, reaching out for the white haired man. They’re daisies, your favorite.

“You haven’t bought your wife flowers, I’m sure she’d like that,” Getou smiles, handing over the bouquet to Gojo.

“I’ll be in the car, come when you’re ready”

Gojo stares at the flowers for what seems to be minutes. If tears could come out they’d be pouring down his face right now but all he can do is sniffle.

Daisies weren’t even your favorite until he got you some for the very first date. He remembers how you smelled them and ran to your kitchen for a vase. How you kissed him on the cheek and said “They’re my favorite kind of flower n” The thought makes his heart feel warm for the first time in 2 years.

“Here’s your favorite flowers, my love, I’ll be sure to bring more when I see you again tomorrow. I love you” he chuckles, placing the bouquet onto your grave.

On the way to the car Gojo could swear he saw you smiling at him from the corner of his eye. The curse of grief still tugs at his heart from the sight of you but at least now, it’s not totally unbearable.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah”

That night Gojo sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, gripping onto a pillow that he so desperately wished was you. He even took a shower with the shampoo you used to use just for some sort of comfort. It felt unusual to cry and not shy away every time something reminded him of you.

From then on, Gojo did keep visiting you with daisies every single day. Some days would be hard, he would sit with you for hours sobbing and asking why you did what you did, but other days would be nice and he would tell you all about the new students at school. He still has a lot of mourning to do, he can tell when he looks in the mirror and questions if it was his fault or when he tries to find someone, anyone to blame but despite the hard process of mourning his wife, the curse that’s been with him for quite some time has been getting easier to deal with.

Grief is a curse that Satoru Gojo can finally bare.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanamislvr.gojo #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader

114 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe.

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

2K notes · View notes

lunaastoir · 3 years

Text

fluff/relationships w the mondstadt crew

characters included: diluc, kaeya, and jean

gn! reader as always <3

tw: fluff??? domesticity??? crack??? ideal relationships w people who will never be real??? also mentions of alcohol!

an: so i’m back w a sequel to my “fluff/relationships w the liyue crew” since you guys seemed to really like it <3 thank you my heart is literally melting 😩 this post was getting too long so i excluded some of the characters but expect a part. 2 (more like part 3 but part 2 to the mondstadt version)!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc

man. this MAN.

that’s it, that’s the headcanon.

he would literally be the most doting lover in the softest ways

SUCH a soft romantic like you thought you knew love??? nah this man will show you what love is

will constantly leave you things around the winery to convey his silent thank you’s and appreciation for you putting up with him being busy for most of the day

it’s always the most thoughtful things ever too like-

you mentioned how nice it would be to have some fresh lemonade with the hotter weather outside but it was too late in the day to actually go to the market in search of fresh lemons

the next day you walked downstairs only to be greeted with a pitcher of cool lemonade with a side of lemon bars

there was a note attached to the handle of the pitcher <3

“i recall you mentioning how lemonade would be perfect for the warmer weather so i decided to make some for you this morning. i hope it’s still cool by the time you drink it. love, d”

pls sir your hand in marriage

he secretly loves it when you usher him to bed after waking up in the dead of night to see him working by candlelight on reports

soft hands on his cheeks gently whispering about how, it’s been far too long and come to bed, darling and there will be time for this in the morning

his protests are light given the dark purple hues under his crimson eyes but he’ll still make a little fuss

don’t let this man fool you tho he’s so so touched that you care enough to check up on him and drag him to bed!!

sometimes on the days he has a bit more free time, the two of you will quickly grab your dinners and race to the highest spot in the winery to watch the setting sun

these moments are always filled with laughter, something you’ve found you’re easily able to pull out of diluc, simply because it’s you

uncontrollable sobbing

he would let you paint his nails black like the angsty man he is

frankly he would let you do anything to him if it makes you happy <3

ok but wait diluc w bLACK NAILS?? AND RINGS??? i would die on the spot ⚰️

on the topic of makeup, this man is surprisingly really good w it

i like to think he learned after practicing on kaeya when they were younger bc kaeya was really into makeup

you found out after babysitting klee one day and trying failing to draw eyeliner on the sweet girl after her “big brother ‘bedo!”

you hastily grabbed some wipes, gently wiping off the messed up design before attempting to dive back in

diluc however, had some down time so he decided to check up on his favorite chaotic duo

only to be met with a pile of dirtied makeup wipes, your frustrated expression, and klee’s growing jitteriness

swiftly moving to your side, he quietly asked if you needed help

you glanced up quizzically before handing him the eyeliner, already looking around to find more makeup wipes when this inevitably goes wrong

to your utter surprise tho the eyeliner is perfect??? two perfect winged lines??? in less than a minute??? WHAT

you just stood there like 😦 before diluc got back up and handed you the eyeliner

you were short-circuiting, klee was ecstatic, diluc was worried about you

ok last thing abt diluc

crack! warning but the both of you like lowkey pranking kaeya

for diluc it’s revenge on his annoying brother; for you it’s good - natured sibling rivalry fun

every time the two of you see kaeya, one of you always swipes something of his

small things really, it could be a pen or a handkerchief

one time, diluc swiped kaeya’s spare eyepatch and from the looks of it, kaeya’s only spare black eyepatch bc he was frantically looking for it yk he’s desperate when he even asked diluc if he saw it

the two of you spent an hour nearly laughing your asses off

all in all, life w him is so sweet

kaeya

pretty boy? pretty boy.

while i can’t guarantee stability, life would never be boring w this man that’s for sure

piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides

he LOVES it, the feel of you on his back while he’s walking around mondstadt most likely carrying you to your commission

he finds it comforting especially since he can hear the rumble of your voice against him while you recount stories, or just babble on about everything under the sun

he is SO dramatic so obviously when y’all reach the site of the commission he has to kill all the monsters even tho the both of you agreed to split it up evenly

he makes quick work of his set before stealing some of yours much to your chagrin

you scold him but can you really be mad at him when he looks drop dead gorgeous freezing the hilichurls the answer is no, no you cannot be

oh my god ok wait-

he does this thing where he tries to spook you in public

so say you’re getting groceries at the mondstadt general store

you round the corner just minding your own business, looking around, taking in the sunshine

and suddenly you just hear someone drop in behind you but before you can register anything you hear a soft “boo” and hands circle your waist

you jump SIKE let’s be honest you shrieked

meanwhile kaeya’s just laughing his ass off

you can hear his rich peals of laughter while you attempt to regain your bearings

he does this so often you SHOULD be used to it but you really aren’t bc mans is SNEAKY-

he cards his fingers in your hair whenever you’re speaking

he doesn’t know why, it’s just a cute habit and he finds the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing

oH on the topic of comfort, kaeya really likes resting two fingers on the back of your neck???

ik he seems like the type to throw his arm around your shoulder which yes he totally is but during more serious conversations his hand automatically seeks out the warmth of your neck

your neck feels amazing especially during the warmer months due to his chilly fingers contrasting with your warm skin

he likes that he’s able to access such a vulnerable part of you and you would willingly let him

HE GETS YOU MATCHING OUTFITS

no i will NOT take criticism on this i just kNOW he’s that type of guy

it would be those stupid “i’m his” and “they’re mine” sweatshirts like BYE

it’s so cringy but for some reason it’s oddly adorable and you truly despise it but you can’t seem to say no whenever he asks

you pretend to ignore the look of pity diluc throws your way whenever he sees you like this

kaeya really loves accessories so i think he would be the type to give you a promise ring or something similar to show that he truly does care for you

he would brush it off, flirting a little like usual before handing you the ring

with the way his cheeks softly darken though, you know he’s being genuine

TICKLE FIGHTS ik i mentioned this for childe but shhhh

he has tickle fingers??? his hands just loOK like they’re itching to tickle someone so you’ll most likely be the unfortunate victim

he will not show you mercy. at all. he’ll tickle you until there are tears streaming from your eyes, your face is hot, and your voice is hoarse from laughing so damn hard

it gives him such a rush of serotonin its SO CUTE

i feel like this goes without saying but he’s super into pda,,, anything and everything is on the table

hand holding? duh. ass grabs? ofc. carrying you bridal style around mondstadt? why not

ik he’s typically very playful but once the relationship reaches a certain stage, he’ll slowly start to let down the walls that surround his facade

very very slowly show you the more realistic parts of him

the real, damaged pieces of his soul

he’ll be carefully monitoring your reaction though, any sign of fear or disgust will have him recoiling within himself again and you most likely will never see his true nature ever again

SO BE CAREFUL 👹

once you’ve seen the parts of him he’s offered to you, the hushed whispers of his past, and the uncertain lines of his future, he will take off his eyepatch

pretends like he’s not super nervous but he’s SWEATING-

the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen though hands down

you can understand why he covers it up but you would like it if he felt comfortable enough to take off the eyepatch occasionally when he’s with you

also!!! sleeps with his eyepatch side facing you (in the event he wears it to bed)

if this happens you KNOW he trusts you bc it’s his blindside <3

anyways life w kaeya will never be boring but he is a very complicated man

stay with him though, i promise it’ll be worth it

jean

the key to jean’s heart is coffee and food

GET HER COFFEE AND FOOD

i am begging you she deserves it 😭

the poor woman works so hard bc the knights are so mf understaffed, this is literally the best way you can ever show her your love and appreciation when she has work

she will MELT if you have a hot shower and dinner waiting for her when she inevitably returns later than she promised

will completely refuse at first with, “you did not have to do this, it’s too much” but shush her as you shOULD bc she deserves the entire world

she’s the definition of “you do something for me, i’ll return the favor ten times grander”

you leave a flower on her desk bc it reminded you of her??? you’ll wake up to find a whole bouquet of the prettiest windwheel asters you’ve ever seen the next morning along with a thank you note

she’s so sweet BYE

she gets flustered extremely easily so you obviously use this as an opportunity to tease her

when you’re in public rest your hand on her waist and inch it higher until your hand is underneath her shirt and in contact with her warm skin

she’ll actually short-circuit its quite adorable

sometimes y’all will be cuddling and you’ll hear whispers of her insecurities

“am i a good grand master? will i ever be as valiant as vanessa?”

reassure her!!! tell her that she doesn’t need to be like vanessa, she’s already amazing as jean

if you haven’t seen her in awhile, track her down and schedule a lunch date

she never misses appointments and if it’s for you, she’ll gladly make time to see you even if she has to stay up even later than usual

OH-

GIVE HER MASSAGES

she has so much tension and the sorest muscles from hunching over papers and running around on errands

if you sneak into her office and quietly stand behind her before gently pushing down on the sore tendons of her neck, she’ll genuinely fall over on her desk

so make sure you steady her 😀

after you feel how tight her muscles are though, you drag her to barbara bc she needs a healer asap 😭

while most of your time is spent in her office - you helping out in the ways you can while jean is overseeing knight duties - you still have your fair share of life outside of the favonius headquarters

jean never likes to sit still so whenever you have free time, the both of you head off looking for monsters to clear

bouken da bouken???

adventuring w jean is seriously the funnest thing you could ever do

it’s just non-stop you accidentally getting into trouble and her having to come help you

even tho the both of you are dead tired after fighting, what? 20 hilichurl camps now??? the laughter and joy in your eyes shows how you both truly loved every minute of it

it’s both a stress reliever, good fun, and a work-out <3

you’re definitely prone to getting dragged to angel’s share w kaeya

kaeya and jean sometimes hang out after work at the tavern so inevitably you’re dragged along too

all three of you are drunk out of your minds which just makes everything a MILLION times funnier

kaeya slurring over his words makes the two of you start cackling endlessly while diluc just shakes his head making sure to not give you more wine despite your pleas

angel’s share ft. kaeya and bartender diluc are always the best times fr fr

life with her literally feels like y’all are married

so much domesticity it’s so NICE ALJDKSFH

your house is always so clean and the color scheme is impeccable bc jean has such a good eye

you have a chore schedule 😎 but it almost never works out bc jean ends up doing everything without you knowing-

you always confront her abt it and she’s like 😁 “i had some time so i did them! no worries tho” like i- time??? where bitc-

oH- she has amazing style so you can bet shopping w her is literally the best experience

she takes you to all of the hidden gems some places lisa recommended and helps you pick out things

will 100% get really blushy if you come out in something and ask her for her opinion tho she’s literally the cutest

basically jean is a sweet girl who deserves the entirety of teyvat that is all.

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3

477 notes · View notes

jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

Text

Prologue (OHTY)

Open Heart: Third Year Rewrite

Book: Open Heart, Book 3 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1K Premise: A new year, a new relationship, and a new Edenbrook. Will everything go as smoothly as they had planned?

Author’s Note: That summary sucks but this is my OHTY rewrite. I plan to make it dramatic. And angsty af. Here we go! Hope you like it.

Prologue: His Beloved

Caroline's eyes roamed the cavernous space, taking in the upgrades with something akin to wonder. Even from afar, he could see that sparkle in her eyes, the curiosity that was ever present whenever she beheld his newest innovation. It was enough to inspire anyone to conquer the world itself.

Now more than ever, something burned in his stomach: The urge to hold her. The despair and rage at being unable to.

As the seconds ticked by, his wife remained silent, nodding and humming here and there. Her soft, expressive brown eyes fell on the new kiosk at the reception desk and she quietly chuckled. A delicate, gloved hand hovered over the gleaming surface, almost as if she was afraid to touch it.

“These are the same ones I suggested for the Princeton tech lab.”

With the words, came a memory, unfurling before Leland's mind like a heavy mist. Their last trip to Paris, gazing at the Eiffel Tower from the patio of a small but elegant café. Caroline's hand in his from across the table as they talked about the Princeton project, her smile far more beautiful than the whole city in Springtime.

“You thought of everything, my love.” Her eyes met his with such sadness, he was certain she remembered too.

“We will be the prime research facility on the East Coast by the time we're done with the renovations,” he told her, willing her to understand he was doing everything to remedy their situation.

At this, her smile turned genuine, shining with pride. “You're going to help so many people.”

Leland almost scoffed. He didn't give a damn about other people.

Before he could blurt out the bitter words, however, Arthur, his driver, approached with a single nod at Caroline. She sighed, returning her gaze to Leland.

“I must go if I am to board the train on time.”

“If you miss it, you can always just take the jet. It's much faster and comfortable anyway.”

Her soft laugh was the best thing he'd heard all day.

“You know me, my love. I will enjoy the view of the countryside any opportunity I get.” And this time, when she paused, there was undeniable misery in the way her eyes shone. “Plus, you know I'm a nostalgic old woman. Train travel will always have a special place in my heart.”

They had met on a train for the first time many years ago.

The words hurt more than the prospect of not seeing his wife for months. They had mutually decided that time in the serene seaside town of York would be beneficial for her. Rather, Caroline, unable to bear their forced distance much longer without breaking down into tears, decided this was the best temporary solution.

“Shall I wait outside?” Arthur asked politely.

With a start, Caroline seemed to wake from a reverie. “I'll be right out, Arthur.”

After the driver disappeared through the glass doors, Caroline turned to Leland, her body almost quivering with the restraint of keeping its distance. Instead of the customary kiss and hug goodbye, they simply gazed at one another, Caroline with palpable despair, Leland with renewed determination.

“Goodbye, my love,” she murmured, the sound almost lost in the hubbub of the atrium.

Leland heard it, though, as loud and final as the clashing of iron bells.

“Goodbye, Caroline.”

Before long, she turned on her heel and walked out the doors with as much dignity as a broken heart allowed.

Leland, meanwhile, remained fixed to the spot, watching her go. The pain of his own suffering was muted by the fierce rush of conviction. The determination to find a cure was the last tether holding him to sanity.

Before he could move or even think about anything else, a note of delighted laughter echoed nearby. His eyes fell on a couple, traversing through the atrium hand in hand. The lively brunette gazed up at the tall and seemingly brooding man, her eyes sparkling with adoration. When the man finally submitted to her teasing , it was clear that he, too, was completely besotted by her.

“... not a hospital. More like an Apple store,” she was saying.

“What the hell is an Apple store?”

“Oh, that's right. You're a sworn Android user, I forgot.”

Ethan Ramsey rolled his eyes.

“They're phones, Lilac. The rivalry between the two is absurd when people use them equally to waste their lives away.”

This time, it was Lilac Allende who rolled her eyes, but not without a loving smile. “You're such a senior citizen sometimes.”

Ethan halted his steps at that proclamation, tugging at their joined hands and pulling her close to him. Lilac's small cry of surprise melted into one of knowing amusement under the intensity of his roguish smile. Without much preamble, he leaned in and whispered something that made her both blush and nod, impressed.

“You're an incorrigible flirt, Ethan Ramsey,” she tried to admonish, but the effect was tarnished by how pleased she sounded.

Ethan, undeterred, murmured something else into her ear. With a very serious expression, he pulled back to look into her face. There was no humor left in their expressions as they gazed at one another, only pure longing and affection. Then, he held the tip of her chin in gentle fingers, like the most delicate of songbirds, leaned in and kissed her.

Leland glanced away, unwilling to accept there could be love and affection in the world. Teeth clenched, his eyes returned to the couple before he could avoid it. It was almost as if they were flaunting their romance for everyone, including Leland, to see.

They couldn't do anything for Caroline and now they taunted him.

The bitter burn of jealousy and rage pumped through his veins like a poison with every beat of his heart.

That the two doctors could touch and love so unabashedly was…unacceptable.

“Have a good day,” Lilac whispered to her beloved before moving away.

Their hands were still clasped and Ethan seemed unable to let her go. He tugged her again and Lilac looked at him curiously. The man looked on the verge of saying something, his throat working in the small pause. Then, appearing to change his mind, he kissed her forehead instead.

Ethan Ramsey didn't have to say a goddamn thing for Leland to know. Leland had looked at his Caroline the same way before uttering the three words.

Love.

Ethan was in love with her.

The solution struck Leland with such intensity that he remained immobile. It was so simple, he felt like a fool for not having thought of it before. At last, he knew of a surefire way to secure Caroline's cure.

“Sir?” His assistant, Parker, enquired when Leland silently beckoned.

“Have Ethan Ramsey meet me in my office this afternoon,” he commanded simply. “Make it clear the meeting is not optional.”

***

Author’s Note: The following chapters will be longer! I won’t have a posting schedule. I think I’ll just post these bad boys as they’re ready. Approximately weekly? Thank you so much for reading this far!

As a side note, this will be Ethan x MC centric. I will try to include other characters but I can’t promise you much. Also, I’ve kept some things from the original mess that is book 3, but the overall plot will differ. (Hey crazy idea but if any of my mutuals wants to write for other characters, hit me up?)

Chapter 1 coming soon!

*Tagging in a reblog*

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #My writing

300 notes · View notes

emmyhem · 3 years

Text

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always.

warnings: very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :(

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself.

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again.

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him.

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head.

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke.

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses.

Had you gotten the time wrong?

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio.

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend.

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine.

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest.

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left.

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder.

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him.

“Hi, my love.” he cooed.

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily.

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it”

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you.

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.”

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him.

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that.

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed.

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.”

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground.

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration.

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.”

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.”

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room.

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted.

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.”

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.”

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes.

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely.

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak.

Was that what he thought about you?

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face.

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend.

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you.

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.”

Yeah right.

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back.

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word.

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty.

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted.

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words.

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked.

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you.

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room.

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?”

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door.

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you.

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk.

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.”

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know?”

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out.

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away.

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back.

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning.

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid.

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.”

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath.

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu”

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night.

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper.

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney.

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly.

“Lu,

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you.

Yours always,

Y/n”

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest.

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation.

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you.

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button.

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks”

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake.

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.” his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-” his pleads were cut off by the dial tone.

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen.

pt. 2

504 notes · View notes

goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go.

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story.

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot.

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.”

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly.

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly.

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze.

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him.

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship?

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting.

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation.

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words.

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch.

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset.

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

#im sorry #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #professor reid #spencer reid fluff #mgg

526 notes · View notes

ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Text

Family Fatality-Awesamdude

Gn!reader x Sam x Son!Tommyinnit …. It be angsty and sad with a happy ending. Also, does not follow what actually happened in the lore!

Small note: I think this is the last fic I’m going to write in first person. I think a lot of people enjoy the use of second person more and it’s also a bit easier for me to write in second person. The only reason that this fic is written in first is because it’s a part two and I want to keep it consistent. If you have thoughts about this, feel free to message me!!

Part One: Family Matters.

Check out my masterlist here

Y/N believed it was a bad idea from the beginning. Call it parental instincts. But unfortunately no one believed them… until it was too late.

Y/N’s POV

I knew it was a bad idea.

I should have listened to my gut.

Tommy should have listened.

Sam should have listened.

We should have known better.

When Tommy told Sam and me that he wanted to visit Dream in prison, I instantly said no. That boy had been through so much trauma and manipulation because of that green wearing bastard, I didn’t want Dream to ever be able to see Tommy again.

Sam was more into it. It was less of wanting Tommy to be able to see Dream and more he wanted an opportunity to show Tommy the prison. But he was for it. Sure he knew what Dream did to Tommy and hated the blond for it, but he also understood Tommy’s desire to see him.

We told Tommy we would talk it over and let him know our decision.

I really didn’t want him to go.

Sam talked me into it.

That night after we put Tommy and Stella to sleep and crawled into our own bed, Sam began to explain his side further. He told me about how it might be nice for Tommy to get some closure. To be able to see Dream completely trapped in prison with no way out. It may help stop the nightmares.

That’s what convinced me in the end.

As much as Tommy would try to tell us he was fine, his dreams told us otherwise. More often than not, we’d wake in the morning to find Tommy had crawled in bed between us or that he would be sitting in the rocking chair in Stella’s room. He never told us exactly what would happen, but we could tell.

I just wanted them to stop. I wanted my boy to be able to feel safe in this house. And if that was the only way to have it happen… I had to let it happen.

Tommy was thrilled with our verdict. Threw his arms around us in a huge hug and kissed our cheeks. I did my best to put on a happy front, but it was difficult. Sam could tell. Tommy could tell. Heck, I’m sure that even baby Stella could tell.

I was wrapped in another hug by Tommy and was pulled close to his chest while he buried his face in my hair.

“I’ll be alright baba… I promise.”

Liar.

My stomach was in knots the day he went to the prison. I woke up with enough time to see them off. I gave both of them extremely tight hugs, forcing them to promise me they would be safe before sending them off, telling them to be back in time for dinner.

I watched the two walk toward the horizon and stood there watching long after they disappeared from view. The thing that snapped me from my swell of anxiety and nerves was the sound of Stella crying.

I immediately jumped into action, closing the door and rushing toward her room. I carefully got her out of her crib and began our usual morning routine. “They’re going to be fine baby,” I cooed as I changed her, “They’re going to be just fine.”

I knew she couldn’t understand me. I knew I was saying that more to try and convince myself of that. Thinking if I said it out loud it would make it true… it wasn’t true.

The whole day I could help but worry. I tried to focus on Stella, on taking care of her, playing with her, making sure she was okay, but I found my thoughts drifting back to Tommy and Sam and the visit. I couldn’t help but wonder how it was going, if the two were safe.

The pit in my stomach deepened when our usual dinner time rolled around and there was no sign of the boys. I tried to contact one of them via communicator, but no response. I wasn’t surprised. The prison was so heavy laced with obsidian it was nearly impossible to get a signal in there. I watched with a heavy heart and a knotted stomach as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sky and still, no boys. Stella’s bedtime came and I was forced to put her down alone, Sam and Tommy still nowhere to be found.

I tried to remain calm. I sat on the couch and stared at the TV as a movie played. After a while, I realized my knee was bouncing like crazy and that I was halfway through the film but I had no idea what the hell was happening. I reached over and quickly shut off the TV. The black screen reflected the scene behind me, letting me see what was behind me.

I immediately jumped at the sight of my husband standing in the doorway behind me. My hand flew to my chest as my head whipped around to look at him. “Sam!” I exclaimed a bit breathless, using my free hand to push myself up from the couch to completely turn to him. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

Sam didn’t say anything. He only stared at me. That confused me. He usually rushes right for me, shouting hello, and wraps me in a hug and kisses me sweetly… Why is he just staring at me blankly? “Sam?” I questioned, taking a few steps forward toward him. He still didn’t move. Sam just stared. As I grew closer, I could see that his eyes were rimmed red and the usual light that filled his eyes was completely gone. It was really freaking me out. “What’s wrong?”

It was then I noticed that he had entered alone. Tommy hadn’t come in with him. That sent a fury of butterflies to stir in my stomach. “Sam? Where’s Tommy?”

That was the question that broke the dam.

I watched as Sam’s bottom lip began to quiver and a hushed sobbed echoed throughout the room. “I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered out, another sob escaping him. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s legs seemed to give out from under him, causing me to rush forward as my husband fell to his knees. I sunk down to my knees and quickly cupped his face, gently tilting his head to look at me.

Sobs were still falling from his lips as his eyes met mine. I rose my eyebrows at him, not wanting to rush him but still wanting to know what the hell was going on. I didn’t have to wait long for his gut wrenching words.

“You were right.”

It instantly clicked. I was right. That’s why Tommy wasn’t here. I was right. I was right to not want him to go. To not want him to see Dream. Something happened. Something bad happened. I was right.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I was too far. I failed him. I failed to protect him. I failed our son. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.”

Time seemed to stop at Sam’s words. Sam kept babbling words out through his sobs, but I became unable to hear him any longer. A loud ringing filled my ears and I watched as my own vision blurred.

He’s….

He’s dead….

Tommy…

Tommy is dead.

Dream… Dream killed him.

A gut wrenching sob ripped itself from your throat as you fully registered what your husband was telling you. Sam’s arms instantly reach out and wrap around you tightly, bringing you into his chest. Your hands fall from his cheeks onto his chest as you clutch his shirt, burying your face in him as you sob.

You’re not sure how long you’re there, kneeling on the floor sobbing. Slowly, and I mean slowly, but surely, your sobs die down until the only noise filling the room are soft sniffles.

“I was right,” you manage to croak out, pulling yourself away from your creeper hybrid husband to look up at him.

“You were right,” Sam echos, moving one of his hands to cup your cheek and tilting his head down to rest his forehead on yours.

You let out a watery laugh as you close your eyes tightly and relish in the gentle contact.

“God. I have never wanted to be wrong more in my entire life… I wish I wasn’t right.”

The next few days passed slowly. The sky seemed to be constantly dark and everything seemed gloomy. Even Stella was more somber, as if she could tell something was wrong. And she probably could. She had gone from spending almost every second with her older brother to not seeing him for days on end in the blink of an eye.

Sam still had to work. He had to force himself to go back to that damned prison with that bastard and listen to his taunting laughter through the cameras as he mocks the Warden’s pain. It takes everything in Sam to hold back and not barge into the cell and kill Dream himself. He knew that wouldn’t bring back Tommy and wouldn’t make him feel better, but even still.

The house seemed so quiet. Even with Stella babbling and cooing, the rooms had never felt more quiet and empty. I found myself searching for Tommy’s voice, his laughter, his whole presence everyday only to be disappointed when my search came up empty. I tried to play some of his favorite music discs, but tears would fill my eyes as I realized I would never hear him sing along to them and the silence that would have usually been filled by him babbling about the disc was too deafening for me to want to listen to them again.

The worst part, I found, was when Sam would get home. I was always happy to have my husband back. Always more than willing to hug and kiss him in a greeting. A welcome home. But everyday, I’d try to turn to greet Tommy two. I would be waiting for two blonds to appear in my home, even though I knew only one would be home. My heart would break over and over as I searched for the boy that I knew wouldn’t be there.

I let out a sigh as I finished up the last dish I had prepared for dinner. Sam should be home from work any minute now. I set the table, thr-- two places and the food in the middle, Stella in her high chair. Now all there was to do was wait for Sam.

As I finished up, I heard the front door open. “Honey! I’m home!” Sam’s voice called out. A soft smile placed itself on my lips as I turned around and made my way to the front door.

“Hey honey welcome--” The sentence died on my lips as my eyes met what was at my front door. My husband had not come home alone. Instead of the one blond that I had seen come home day after day, had been joined by another blond.

A familiar blond.

The blond I had spent the last several days missing and mourning.

Tommy.

“Tommy?” My voice croaked as my eyes met his icy blue ones.

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he gave me a soft smile, “Hi baba.”

A sob let my lips as I raced forward and wrapped my arms around the middle of the boy I call my son. His arms immediately wrapped around me as he pulled me tightly to him. His face turned down and buried in my hair as I nuzzled into his chest. My fingers clutched at his shirt that rested on his back, trying to prove to myself that he was here. That Tommy was back and actually here. Here in the flesh.

“How--How did you? Why are you? What the?” I babbled out, tilting my head up to try and look at him.

“We can talk about it later… For now I’d just like my parents to hold me.”

Another sob escaped my lips as I moved my head back to its original position. Sam’s strong arms wrapped around the two of us, pulling us close to him. Our little family was back together again. How? I don’t know. But I didn’t care. Tommy was back.

The sound of Tommy’s stomach rumbling broke up from the sweet moment. I let out a small laugh as I carefully pulled away from the hug. I let my hand come up and cup the boy’s cheek. “How about you go sit at the table? I’ll get another plate.”

He gave me a quick nod, leaning down and kissing my cheek before making his way to the table.

“STELLA!! I MISSED YOU!”

I laughed again and turned to my husband, giving him a smile. “He’s back?” I whispered the question, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“He’s back.” Sam confirmed, placing his hands on my hips, pulling me close to him. He then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, one I instantly returned. The kiss said it all. Tommy was back. Our family was back. We were whole once again. And I’m going to make sure that it stays that way.

That sucked. I’m sorry. But if you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like and maybe a reblog and comment telling me what you liked about it. Until next time!

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt one shot #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude one shot #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit one shot #son!tommyinnit #family fatal #ray-ray-writings #requested #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp one shot #dreamsmp imagine

169 notes · View notes

mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years

Text

falling | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj never meant to fall in love with you, it just happened

warnings: cursing, drug use (weed), little angsty, SOFT JJ, fluff, fluff, fluff

a/n: thank you for this amazing request sweet anon! i hope you enjoy it!

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

6.5k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

Rain is something that every Kildare resident has become accustomed to. The rainy summer months were simply a nuisance to everyone who lived in the OBX.

You couldn't quite understand the contempt the people of this town had for the bad weather. To you, the rain was refreshingly familiar. It reminds you of splashing in the puddles with your older brother and being playfully scolded by your mother for tracking mud into the house. The rain is your childhood.

When you spot the dark clouds on your way out of the house that morning, your mood becomes instantly brighter. You play upbeat music as you walk to visit your dad at work.

Your father is the manager of Kildare’s finest Resort and Spa so you practically grew up there. Making friends has never come easily for you and so some of your finest childhood memories were made running through the grass fields in the courtyard and being the honorary taste tester for the kitchen staff.

The rain gives you an extra skip in your step and you rush through helping your dad with some of his paperwork so you can get back outside quicker.

Not every Kildare native has the same mindset that you do. To JJ Maybank, the rain is a reminder of the days he was forced to stay inside with his father. The cracking thunder reminds him of being hidden under his bedsheets in fear, with no one to comfort him.

The blonde’s fingers quickly fumble to punch in the well-known number of his best friend. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, until the crackly sound of John B’s voicemail box fills his ears. He tries Kiara and even Pope, before ultimately giving up.

The one day his bike is in the shop, it rains and none of his friends answer their phones.

Despite every instinct he has, JJ knows he has no choice but to walk home in the rain. His clothes are already sopping wet against his skin even after a brief minute of standing under the downpour.

He shivers, arms wrapping around his body as he prepares himself to make the journey home.

Before JJ can even take one step forward, a bright yellow blob moves towards him, catching his attention. The blob slowly morphs into a figure as it approaches.

“Hello,” a sweet feminine voice calls out to him. JJ’s brows instantly furrow at the sight of the teen girl in the bright yellow raincoat, holding an equally bright, yellow umbrella.

“Um, hi?” he replies over the sound of the rain, his voice coming out in more of a questioning tone.

You quickly move your hand so that your small umbrella is covering both of your heads.

“Thanks,” JJ mutters, still confused. You offer him a sweet smile. He takes the moment to scan your face. You're easily one of the most gorgeous girls he's ever seen and he wonders how he's gone this long without noticing you.

“You looked like you needed it more than me,” you explain with a shrug, eyes falling away from JJ’s piercing blue ones. “Where are you headed? I didn't drive here but I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind if I borrowed his car to take you home.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh, um, your Mr. (Y/L/N)’s daughter right?” You reply with a simple nod. “It's fine, I'll just walk.”

Your lips pull down into a sudden frown and JJ has an intense urge to make you smile again. “It would be much faster for me to drive you,” you urge, “Plus, if you walk home without an umbrella, you'll definitely catch a cold.”

JJ can't help but smile softly at your kindness which you eagerly return with one of your own. “How ‘bout you just let me borrow your umbrella then?” he asks jokingly.

“Well that would work, but this is my favorite umbrella.” This is a lie. You have two other umbrellas just like it at home.

“Well I guess you'll just have to give me a ride home then,” JJ gives in.

Your smile grows as you link your arm with the blondes and pull him to your dad's fancy sports car. JJ gives you directions back to the Chateau and you oblige.

The two of you make conversation for almost the entire drive, only breaking when you stop to turn up a song you like. JJ is pleasantly surprised when you never mention the length of the drive or the rundown houses you pass.

A few minutes later, You pull up to the chateau, putting the car in park. The car goes quiet besides the sound of rain hitting the rooftop.

JJ looks over at you with a soft smile. “Thank you, really, for the ride,” he tells you genuinely as he gathers his things.

“Any time, Maybank.”

Over the next two weeks, you start to spend a little more time at the hotel, bumping into JJ anytime the opportunity arises. The blonde is used to eating his lunch on his own in the back room, but when you ask if he'll join you for lunch on the golf course, he can't possibly say no.

“So then my friend John B had to practically drag me out of the water,” JJ says, continuing his story about getting stung by a jellyfish. “I couldn't walk for three straight days.” His words are muffled by the bite of the sandwich he has in his mouth causing you to giggle. JJ smiles at the sound, wanting nothing more than to make you laugh like that again.

“You know I've always wanted to learn how to surf,” you tell him, causing his eyes to widen. “But after your stories, I might not,” you add with a laugh.

“You've never been surfing,” the blonde asks in disbelief to which you respond with a head shake. “How long have you lived here?”

You smile. “All my life.”

“You've lived here all your life and you've never been surfing?”

“I've been paddleboarding,” you offer with a sheepish smile.

JJ chuckles slightly at your lame joke, but mostly at how adorable you are. “Come surfing with me tomorrow,” he says, softly grabbing your hand in his causing you to blush hard.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I have the day off and my friends and I were planning to go anyway.”

Your eyes widen and you gulp slightly. “Your friends are going to be there,” you ask warily.

JJ nods in confusion. “Yeah my friends will be there, unless,” a look of realization sweeps over his face, “Oh. You don't want to go with my friends.” His hand drops yours onto the blanket you brought.

“No,” you tell him earnestly, grabbing his hand back. “It's not that I don't want to go with them, it's that I don't think they will want me there.” JJ looks at you in confusion. “You and your friends are the most looked up to friend group on this island. It's an unspoken thing that everyone wants to be you guys. I just don't think they'll want me butting into your group.”

JJ frowns. Is that really what you think of yourself? The blonde has only known you for a few weeks, but at that time he's decided that you are the kindest, most selfless person on this island. Why you are unable to see that, is beyond him.

It's the first moment in JJ’s life that he has the sudden urge to kiss you. But he can't, he knows that. He knows it won't be the last time he gets this feeling (not with your perfect pouty lips and kind heart around him all the time), but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind for now.

“(Y/N),” he says, drawing your attention back up to his eyes. “Trust me, they'll love you.” What's not to love? But he doesn't say that last part out loud.

JJ doesn't know it, but this moment is also the first time you have the urge to kiss him. The urge to wrap your hands around his neck and pull his lips to meet yours. Your heart rate increases rapidly and you push the thought aside as well.

With promises of meeting the next day, you bid JJ goodbye, the butterflies in your stomach not diminishing until the blonde is out of your sight.

The next afternoon you spend thirty minutes trying on all of your bikinis. You want more than anything to have a good impression on JJ’s friends.

You are slipping a pale green tank top over your bikini as the doorbell echos through your house. “I'll get it,” you tell out, hoping no one gets to the door first.

Grabbing the rest of your things and shoving them into your tote bag, you quickly run downstairs. When you make it to the door you spot your older brother Sam reaching to open it.

“Sam wait,” you yell, rushing to open the door first. You pull the handle revealing JJ. He's dressed in a pair of grey cargo shorts, a worn black tank top, and his infamous red snapback. “Hey,” you say with a smile.

“Hey.”

“(Y/N), where are you going,” Sam asks from behind you. You turn around to see your brother giving you a look that resembles that of a worried parent.

“I'm going surfing with JJ and his friends,” you tell him quickly. JJ waves at your brother, slightly intimidated by the tall boy.

Sam looks over your shoulder at JJ before snapping his eyes back to you. “Did you tell mom and dad about this?”

You roll your eyes lightly. “I'm not ten, Sam,” you say sarcastically. “I don't have to get permission every time I leave the house.”

Sam’s eyes move back to JJ, only to see that the blue-eyed boy is already looking at you. “Keep her safe, will you?” he asks with a sigh.

JJ looks at your brother. “Of course,” he promises.

You smile, kissing your brother on the cheek. “Love you, Sam.”

He responds with the same and the two of you are quickly moving off your front porch and towards the street.

JJ watches your expression as you approach the pogue van, expecting some sort of disgust of their old vehicle.

He opens the passenger door for you, making you blush hard, before moving to the driver's seat. “Sorry it's not the nicest car,” he says as the van sputters to life, slightly cringing at the sound of the old engine.

“What are you talking about,” you say with an honest smile, “This is literally the coolest car ever.” You stick your hand out the window letting the wind hit it as giggles escape from your mouth.

JJ’s lips stretch into a wide smile at the sight.

The two of you laugh and sing along to whatever song comes on the radio. It's just like the night you drove him home from the hotel except now, the sun is shining bright above you.

When JJ pulls the van up to the front of the run down Chateau, you feel your palms begin to sweat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask the boy next to you, not taking your eyes off the front porch.

JJ smiles. “They're gonna love you,” he says confidently, “Now come on before I die of heatstroke.” He hops out of the car, running around to your side and helping you out.

You chew your lips nervously as the two of you walk up the steps and across the front porch.

“We're here,” JJ announces as he opens the door for you.

The first thing you notice when you enter the little house is the pungent smell of weed. Despite not smoking yourself, you don't mind the scent. The second thing you notice is the three teenagers sitting on a worn couch.

A girl with curly brown hair throws her hands up into the air. “JJ’s brought a girl home,” she exclaims with a chuckle.

The blonde beside you rolls his eyes. “Shut up Kie.”

The girl who you assume is Kiara, stands up, and runs over to you. Much to your surprise, she pulls you into a tight hug. You stand there in confusion for a second before hugging her back. “I'm Kiara, but you can call me Kie,” she says, pulling away. “Those two dumbasses are John B and Pope,” Kie tells you, pointing to the two boys still sitting on the couch. They lift their chins in a greeting.

“So are you guys ready,” JJ asks, breaking the tension.

The boys stand up and the five of you walk outside before piling into the van. John B and Kiara sit in the front and JJ, Pope, and you in the back.

“JB, where's Sarah,” Pope asks.

“Couldn't make it,” John B replies, “Said she had family stuff.”

“John B, you're dating Sarah Cameron, right?” you ask sweetly.

John B nods. “Yeah, you know her?”

“Not really, we had English together last year,” you say, watching as the brunette boy’s expression remains stoic. “I don't know if she'll like me though. I kind of punched her brother in third grade for making fun of my friend's dress.”

The whole group laughs loudly and you blush hard, not meaning for that to slip out. JJ uses the moment to wrap his arms discreetly across your shoulders.

“I think she'll definitely like you then,” John B says. “That's badass.”

A few minutes later, the van pulls up to a secluded spot on the beach.

“Wow, it's beautiful here,” you say in awe.

JJ nods as he and Kie take the surfboards down from the roof of the van. “This is our secret pogue spot.”

“Oh,” you say looking down, feeling out of place.

Pope hands you one of the boards. “You're basically an honorary pogue if we bring you here,” he says with a kind smile. “Think of this as your initiation.”

You smile back, relieved that JJ’s friends aren't annoyed by your presence. JJ tries to hide a smile of his own, loving that you are getting along with his friends considering they're the only family he has.

The five of you walk down to the beach, finding a good spot to lay down your stuff.

JJ can't take his eyes off of you as you slip your tank top over your head. His little heart can't handle how gorgeous you are. You're wearing a small blue and white floral bikini, leaving little to the imagination.

“You okay, Maybank?” you ask, snapping him out of his trance. He nods dumbly, making you chuckle. “C’mon,” you say, grabbing your board in one hand and holding the other out to the blonde.

This sets him into motion and he quickly grabs his own board and links his fingers with yours. He has to remind himself to take in this moment, wanting to remember the first time you ever held his hand.

“So how do I do this,” you ask once you have paddled out into the water.

JJ nods. “Normally I would have you do some exercises on land first, but I say you just go for it,” he says, floating on the board next to you.

“Great plan, Maybank,” you say with a slight eye roll. “If I die it's on you.”

JJ laughs. “You're not gonna die, (Y/N),” he tells you. “The waves are small today anyways.”

He explains the basics of how and where to stand before demonstrating on a wave. You admire how his tan body moves gracefully on the board. He makes it look so easy and you smile at the look of concentration he has.

JJ ladles back out to where you are when he is done. “Maybank,” you exclaim. “That was amazing.”

JJ smiles wide. “Now it's your turn.”

You grimace. “It's not gonna look like that.”

“Don't worry, that took years of practice,” he encourages before pointing behind you. “Look, there's a perfect wave coming.”

You look at the wave, gulping in anticipation. “Wish me luck.”

“You got this,” he yells making you laugh. Your heart pounds in your chest as you line yourself up the way JJ had. When the wave comes toward you, you attempt to put your foot where JJ told you. Instead, you miss and fall into the water before you even have the chance to stand.

JJ’s heart drops the moment your head disappears under the water. The waves weren't too big and the current shouldn't be strong at this time of day, but he couldn't help the sick feeling he got watching you fall.

The moment your head pops up out of the water he breathes a sigh of relief. The sound of your laughter is enough to calm his anxieties.

You slide back on your board, paddling back over to JJ. “Well that was embarrassing,” you say with a giggle.

JJ smiles with a small shake of his head. “No one gets it on their first try,” he reassures her. “If you stood up just now I would have sent you straight to a surfing competition.”

A few more tries (and fails) later you notice the sun starting to set over the horizon.

“You ready to go back in,” JJ asks from his board next to you.

You shake your head. “I want to give it one more go,” you tell him. “But you go in and watch from the beach.”

The blonde frowns. “Are you sure?”

“I'll be fine, Maybank,” you say with a small smile. “Plus, then you can watch me better when I shred some waves,” you add in a mock surfer voice.

JJ gives you a slight eye roll before making his way to shore. He meets up with the rest of the pogues who are coming back from up the beach where they had found some bigger waves.

“Getting bored of teaching the newbie,” John B asks when he sees JJ.

JJ gently shoves the boy. “No,” the blonde replies plainly. “She just wanted to give it one last try before we head in.”

The four of them watch from the sand as you make your way towards an upcoming wave.

“I bet you five bucks she doesn't even stand,” John B whispers to Pope.

“Hey,” JJ snaps, turning to look at his two friends. “What are you two idiots doing.”

“Definitely not betting on your girlfriend,” Pope says, sarcasm laced in his voice.

JJ blushes at the word 'girlfriend’. “She's not my girlfriend.”

Even Kie rolls her eyes at this. “Yeah, okay.”

They go silent as you get closer to the wave, watching as you paddle along it. In one graceful motion, you position your feet, straightening your legs until you are standing.

The four pogues cheer as you ride the wave. It's definitely not perfect, but JJ couldn't be more proud.

You ride the wave in, throwing your board on the sand as you run-up to the group. “I did it guys,” you exclaim happily.

Running up to JJ, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, practically jumping into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around in excitement.

The blonde puts you down after a minute, reluctant to let go of you. You look up into his eyes, feeling the tension grow.

“You did awesome, girly,” Kie says, drawing your attention away from JJ.

He smiles as he watches you interact with his friends. At that exact moment, his heart feels so full, but he can't explain it.

After everyone is done congratulating you, the six of you gather your things before piling into the van. You tell jokes and chat on the way back to your house.

You give JJ a soft kiss on the cheek before bidding everyone else goodbye. Despite rolling his eyes when his three best friends make fun of him for it, having your lips on his cheek is the last thing he thinks about before drifting off to sleep that night.

Yes, he's definitely falling for you.

Over the next few weeks, you grew closer and closer with the pogues. A few days after your surfing adventure you met Sarah Cameron for the first time, and after that, you were basically a pogue yourself.

When you invited JJ over for dinner at your house, the blonde assumed your parents would hate him like every other kook family. However, your parents and brother treated him with nothing but kindness and respect (how could they not after all the stories you have told them).

Looking back, that was the night you knew you were in love with JJ. Watching him laugh and have meaningful conversations with your family made you fall even harder for him.

Tonight, almost five months after you first met JJ on that rainy night, you are lounging on the floor of John B’s living room cracking jokes with your friends.

You told your parents you were spending the night at Kiara’s, knowing that they would ask fewer questions.

“Kie, pass me the blunt, would you,” John B asks from his spot next to Sarah.

You are sitting next to JJ, your legs stretched across his and your back pressed against the couch. Your eyes watch as John B places the blunt to his lips, inhaling the vapor.

The brunette lifts an eyebrow. “You wanna hit, (Y/N),” John B asks, holding the blunt out with two fingers.

Before you can even open your mouth, the blonde beside you speaks up. “She doesn't smoke JB,” he says annoyed at his best friend for even asking.

You look at him confidently. “Actually, I think I'd like to try,” you say, causing everyone to look at you in shock.

“You sure?” JJ asks softly from next to you. You nod and John B passes you the blunt.

Placing it in between your lips, you inhale like you had seen John B do earlier. Only, when you do it, it sends you into a coughing fit.

JJ rubs your back with a slight eye roll. “Atta girl,” he says with a small chuckle.

It doesn't take long for you to be high out of your mind. You're a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and you probably should have guessed you would be a lightweight when it came to weed too.

At some point in the night, you find yourself sprawled out on one of the hammocks outside in a large, ratty t-shirt you assume belongs to JJ. The stars spin above you and you giggle.

“(Y/N)?” you hear the voice of the boy you're madly in love with, approach.

“Maybank,” you cheer when he finds you on the hammock. He gestured for you to move over and once you do so he plops down next to you.

You're instantly pulled into JJ’s toned chest and you let your head rest easily on his shoulder.

“Is everyone else asleep?” you attempt to whisper, but it comes out louder than you had anticipated.

JJ’s hands find your hair and begin to play with it lightly. “Mhm.”

“So it's just me and you?” you ask sweetly, words slightly slurred from the weed in your system.

He hopes you can't hear how fast his heart is beating from having you this close. “Just you and me.”

“JJ can I ask you a question,” you mumble, the weed making you only slightly more confident.

“F’course,” JJ tells you.

You use your fingers to trace lazy patterns on his bare chest. “How come you never call me any nicknames,” you ask with a pout. “Like I call you ‘Maybank’, y’know and you have a nickname for every one of our friends except me.”

JJ doesn't answer right away and even your wasted mind thinks that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask.

“Because I like your name,” he finally says after a while.

A small “oh” is all you can muster, so the blonde boy continues. “I like saying your name. It's really pretty and I like the way it sounds,” he tries to explain, slightly cringing at his words.

“I like you,” you blurt, but it comes out in a slow drawl.

“What,” JJ asks quickly, eyes widening in shock. When you don't reply, he looks down at you only to find you fast asleep on his chest.

His brain is going a mile a minute trying to comprehend what you said. You must've meant it in a friendly way because there's no way someone like you would like a guy like him. Right?

The blonde lays there for hours, unable to sleep with your words on his mind (and your head over his heart). Finally, he coaxes himself to sleep with the thought that you were high out of your mind and didn't mean anything you said.

The next morning you wake up alone in the bed of John B’s guest room. You have no idea how you got there and have little recollection of the previous night.

You stumble out of the small room with a headache and feeling slightly nauseous.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sarah says with a smile when you appear in the kitchen.

You look around the room, noticing that you were the last one awake. “What happened last night,” you groan, plopping down in the seat between Kiara and JJ

“Well,” Pope says with a smirk. “You had your first official experience with weed.”

You groan again, laying your head in your arms which are folded on the table. You feel a familiar hand rest on your back and you turn your head to look at JJ. He smiles at you and a sea of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, sitting up. JJ pouts at your words and you giggle, leaning over to give him a small kiss on the cheek which unbeknownst to you, makes his stomach fill with butterflies too.

You bid goodbye to the rest of your friends, before stumbling out of the chateau and to your car.

JJ’s eyes follow your body until it is completely out of sight. When he finally sees your car pulling out of the driveway, he looks back to his friends only to find all of them staring at him. “What?”

“Just tell her you love her already,” Kiara says with a dramatic groan causing JJ’s eyes to widen.

John B nods. “Seriously, dude,” he says, “You gotta do it before she gets tired of waiting.”

“What are you guys talking about,” JJ asks innocently despite knowing exactly what his friends are talking about.

“The two of you are madly in love with each other so what are you doing wasting this time you could be spending together,” Sarah reasons.

JJ knows his friends are right, but he doesn't need them breathing down his neck when he does decide to tell you.

You, on the other hand, realized a few seconds into your drive that you forgot your phone. You had turned around and were now making your way back up the porch steps.

“I do not like (Y/N),” lies through his teeth, having no idea that you could hear him clearly through the mesh screen door. “She's just a spoiled, kook, brat that I happened to take pity on. She means nothing to me.”

Each word that passes from JJ’s lips is like a knife to your heart. Completely forgetting your phone, you don't waste any time running back to your car. Hot tears stream down your face at a steady rate as you attempt to get as far away as possible from the boy who broke your heart.

“Okay keep telling yourself that,” John B says to JJ with a small smirk on his lips.

JJ rolls his eyes, but on the inside, he is longing for your sweet lips to press to his cheek again. The dense blonde has no idea that the girl he loves with his whole heart, is currently broken because of him.

Over the next few days, you make every excuse in the book not to see the pogues, knowing that even being in the same room as JJ would be too much.

When Kiara brings by your phone from the Chateau, you immediately break down and tell her what you witnessed. The curly-haired girl wants to tell you the whole truth, but she figures it should come from the idiotic blonde himself.

After three days of not hearing from you, JJ’s worry starts to eat him alive. What if you were sick? Or sad? Or what if you finally realized you were too good for him?

Despite the drizzling rain, JJ takes his bike and makes his way to your house as quickly as he can.

When he knocks on your large oak door and your brother opens it, JJ is immediately brought back to the first day he came to your house. He remembers the pride he felt when you first stood up on that board.

“Hey, Sam. Is (Y/N) here?” he asks, peaking around your brother's shoulder as if you would be standing there like you were that one day.

“No,” Sam says harshly, immediately slamming the door shut in JJ’s face.

The blonde is left there in confusion wondering what is wrong. He knocks on the door again, louder this time.

Sam opens the door again. “What?” he snaps.

“I know she's here,” JJ explains seriously. “I can see her bedroom light from her window and she never leaves her light on.”

Your brother scowls at JJ’s words as if it's an abomination that he knows such an intimate fact about you.

“Leave, JJ,” Sam says, slightly calmer now. “She doesn't want to see you.” He shuts the door again, causing JJ’s heart to break slightly.

What does he mean you don't want to see him?

The blonde steps away from your front door and moves under your bedroom window. The rain is falling much harder now, causing JJ’s curls to plaster to his forehead.

He glances up at your window, suddenly having an idea. It takes him a few tries, but JJ is able to scale your house and make it to your small balcony.

He peers into your room, spotting you laying on your bed, with your back facing him. JJ knocks lightly on your window and you snap your head in his direction.

Your eyes widen when you see his sopping wet form and for a second you forget why you're laying alone in the first place. You rush to the window, undoing the hinges and pulling JJ inside.

Once the blonde is standing in front of you, his words from the other night come rushing back.

“What are you doing here, JJ,” you ask with a small sigh, wrapping your hoodie-clad arms around your stomach.

The blonde frowns. “You called me JJ.”

“That's your name isn't it?”

“Yeah, but yo-you never,” JJ stumbles over his words. “Are you okay? Why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?”

“I was busy,” you say with a shrug, sitting back onto your bed.

“You know you can talk to me, right,” JJ asks as he takes a small step closer to you. “I'll always be here for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay,” you mumble sarcastically.

JJ flinches back. “What's going on (Y/N)? You're not being yourself. You are always there for me and my problems, so you should know that I'll always be here for you and whatever it is you're going through,” he tells you honestly.

“Oh yeah because you took pity on me, right?” you snap, looking him dead in the eyes as a few tears fall down your cheeks. A look of confusion spreads across his features. “Because I'm a ‘spoiled, kook, brat’ right?”

JJ's heart drops to the pit of his stomach as he realizes what you are talking about. His eyes well with tears knowing why you've been hurting the past few days.

“(Y/N),” he all but whimpers. His hands reach out for you but you pull back.“Please, let me explain.”

You harshly wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I think you made yourself very clear the other day. Leave, JJ,” you tell him.

JJ shakes his head as panic builds in his chest. He struggles to breathe as he realizes that he is about to lose you before he even truly has you.

His breathing becomes more and more erratic and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“JJ,” you ask softly, noticing the arising panic attack. The blonde looks up at you, fear evident in his eyes. Despite the pain, he put you through, you still love him and can't stand to see him in pain. “C'mere JJ,” you say softly, pulling him to sit on your bed. You crouch down below him, shushing him softly.

“You gotta breathe with me,” you tell him, making sure he's watching as you take a few big breaths in. He is able to take a few shaky breaths and soon his heart rate has slowed to a somewhat normal rate, JJ collapses into your arms. “You're okay. It's gonna be okay.”

JJ frowns, pulling away from you slightly. “Why are you being so nice to me,” he asks shakily. “After everything I've done?”

You shrug, looking down.

He uses two of his fingers to gently lift your chin so you are looking at him. “Please let me explain,” he whispers and you nod slightly. “After you left that day, the pogues were messing with me, saying that I was so in love with you n ’shit, so I had to say something that would get them to shut up,” he says quickly, wanting to get through his story so you will stop hurting.

“Nothing I said that day was remotely close to the truth. You are the most kind-hearted person on this island, and for me to even say that you aren't, it's just, I'm so sorry,” he says. “I never meant to hurt you, but I couldn't have the pogues thinking I was in love with you.”

Your heart falls at his words. “Because that would be embarrassing, right?” you say, trying to hide the dejection you are feeling.

“No.” You look up at him in confusion. “Because I didn't want you to find out before I got the courage to tell you myself.”

“What?”

“I'm in love with you (Y/N),” he says with a small smile on his face. “I have completely fallen for you. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you are. You’re my first thought in the morning, you’re my last thought before I fall asleep, and you're almost every thought in between.”

The room goes silent and the only sound that can be heard is the rain softly hitting your window.

“Now is where you say something,” he says with an awkward chuckle.

You open your mouth to speak, but everything you want to say to the boy in front of you is stuck in your throat. “I-” you manage to sutter out.

JJ sighs. “It’s okay,” he says standing up, leaving you to fall limply against your bed. “I figured this would happen. You don’t have to say anything.”

When he moves towards your window, your body seems to catch up with your brain and you run to stop him. JJ turns around, but before he can get a word out, you press your lips to his.

You swear you see sparks fly behind your eyes the moment your lips meet his. The kiss starts softly at first and then builds with an intensity that has you gripping his shoulders for balance. This kicks the blonde into motion. He places one hand softly on your cheek and uses the other to tug your waist closer to him.

The intoxicating taste of weed and mint lulls you closer as your lips move together perfectly. Neither of you ever want to stop. Moving your right hand to lace your fingers in his hair, you tug slightly, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile into the kiss before reluctantly pulling yourself away.

“That was…” JJ trails off breathlessly.

“Yeah,” you agree with a chuckle. “Look, when I first met you, I never would have imagined that I would have such strong feelings for you. I never would have thought that I would miss being by your side, or get butterflies in my stomach when someone mentions your name. When I first met you, I never would’ve thought that I would love you the way I do.”

Tears brim JJ’s eyes as your words fill his heart. “So, you…”

“I love you, Maybank,” you say, not looking away from his eyes.

“Say it again,” he asks in a small voice, eyes wide like he can’t believe the words you are actually saying.

You smile wide. “I love you, so much.”

JJ pulls your body tight to his chest and buries his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything,” he mumbles into your neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say.”

You chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder and cupping his cheeks with your hands. You place a few soft kisses to his pouty lips causing him to smile wide. “I forgive you, but only because you're cute,” you tell him.

He blushes slightly, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks and then your lips. Both of you have big smiles on your face when you pull away. “How have I gone this long without kissing you,” JJ says causing you to giggle. He uses the pads of his thumbs to trace your cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful,” the blonde whispers, voice laced with sincerity.

You blush hard and nuzzle your face into his chest. After a second you look back up at him. “Stay the night?” you ask.

JJ nods. “Of course, my love.”

Smiling at the name you pull him towards your closet. “I thought you didn't give me nicknames,” you tease and he shrugs his shoulders.

“That was before,” he says with a smile.

You hum in response, handing him some of his clothes that either he had left at your house or you had stolen from the Chateau. Once he is changed out of his wet clothes, the two of you climb into your bed.

JJ instantly pulls you snug to his chest and you get comfortable and he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of you know that everything will change after today. Everything is different now, but for some reason, it feels normal to the two of you. It feels like this was how it was meant to be. Just you and JJ, together.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Maybank.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist

1K notes · View notes