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bechloeislegit · 1 year

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Secret Love?

Everybody knows Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale have been best friends for years. Everybody knows they have won awards in their fields (Beca as a music producer, Chloe as an actress). Everybody knows they are always each other’s plus one to the awards show. Everybody knows they share a home in L.A. Everybody knows all these things, so they think they know everything about the best friends. But do they really?

Beca Mitchell walked the Grammys red carpet alone for the first time in four years. She felt a vulnerability she had never felt before without her constant companion, Chloe Beale, by her side. Chloe was an award-winning actress, and seeing one without the other at most awards events was rare.

Beca was worried because she had no idea where Chloe was; her texts and voicemail messages have gone unanswered.

“Beca, over here!” one of the multitudes of photographers called out.

Beca would stop and pose before moving on to one of the many media entertainment reporters set up along the red carpet.

“How are you feeling tonight?” the first reporter asked.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Beca responded. “It’s always exciting to be nominated.”

“Where’s your other half?” the reporter jokingly asked.

“I’m not sure,” Beca said with a chuckle. “Something came up, and she had hoped to be here, so we’ll see if she makes it.”

Beca was lying through her teeth, but she wasn’t going to let the reporter know that. After repeatedly stopping by several interview areas and being asked the same questions, Beca finally made it into the Staples Center.

Beca greeted her fellow musicians, most of whom also asked about Chloe. Of course, Beca gave them all the same spiel she gave the reporters.

Beca reached her seat, and looked at the empty one beside her, knowing that some ‘seat filler’ would be sitting next to her for the night. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Beca checked the time and saw they still had about thirty minutes before the show started. She got up, made her way to a quiet place near the back, and pulled out her phone. She was going to try calling Chloe again when she noticed an Instagram notification from Chloe’s acting account.

“I said YES!” was the caption under a picture of Chicago Walp holding a hand and showing off an engagement ring. The hand was the only part of Walp’s new fiancée that could be seen. Even if she hadn’t been on Chloe’s Instagram, Beca knew that hand almost as well as her own; it was Chloe’s.

Beca doesn’t know how long she stood staring at the ring. She was brought back to the present when Stacie came up to her.

“You saw?” Stacie asked quietly.

Beca nodded and asked, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Beca knew she was grasping at straws and was holding onto whatever hope might tell her this was all a bad dream.

“Yes, it’s her,” Stacie said. “Her agent, Gail, confirmed it on her Twitter and Instagram accounts. I’m sorry, Beca.”

“Great,” Beca said with a strained smile.

“Are you okay?” Stacie asked. She could see how pale Beca suddenly looked.

“I’m not feeling so great,” Beca said. “If I win anything, could you accept it on my behalf? I need to get out of here. I really don’t think I want to see a picture of me puking plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow.”

“I’ll get Emily to do it,” Stacie said with some concern. “That way, I can take you home.”

“No, stay. Enjoy the night,” Beca said. “I was already feeling a little sick. At first, I thought it was just nerves, but now I’m not so sure. I probably should have stayed home anyway.”

“If you’re sure?” Stacie said, and Beca nodded. “Okay. Text me to let me know you made it home and that everything’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Thanks,” Beca said.

Beca made her way out of the Staples Center and grabbed a cab. Finally, she arrived home and stood at the front door, remembering when she first bought the house and all that had happened there.

Five years ago, Beca had recorded her first album and was able to afford what she called her mini-mansion. A year later, Chloe told Beca she was moving to L.A. to try her hand at acting, and it was a no-brainer that she would live with Beca. They had been sharing this home since Chloe moved to L.A. four years ago. She and Chloe were happy with the house, and although they could afford it, neither wanted to move.

They were BFFs as well as roommates and were always photographed out and about in L.A. Then, about a year ago, Chloe admitted she had some not-so-friend-like feelings for Beca, and Beca reciprocated those feelings. They were still BFFs, but now they were in a secret relationship, and nobody knew. Beca hated sneaking around but was on cloud nine because, duh, Chloe Beale was her girlfriend. The two were in love; at least, that’s what Beca was led to believe. Apparently, Chloe was as good an actress as her two Oscars said.

It was only because of Chloe’s career that they kept their romantic relationship a secret. Beca was okay with that until Chloe and some new actor on the scene named Chicago were cast as love interests in Chloe’s latest movie. For publicity to hype the film, they were seen out and about as if they were a couple in real life. Beca and Chloe weren’t going out as much together anymore, even as BFFs; Beca wasn’t happy about that. Chloe would smile and tell her that it was her job and just a publicity stunt. She also said it would only last until the movie came out. Besides, Chloe would tell her she would always come home to Beca.

Beca took a deep breath and walked into the house. She made her way upstairs to the room she shared with Chloe and changed out of her Grammys outfit. She then pulled out her suitcases, and without thinking about it, she started packing everything she could fit into them. She then found some boxes to put her personal belongings in. She left anything that Chloe had given her, plus all the photos that had Chloe in them, on the bed for Chloe to find. She left behind the hoodie she ‘borrowed’ from Chloe and always wore because Chloe said it looked better on her; Beca didn’t need it anymore. It was just another reminder of Chloe’s betrayal.

She carried everything to her car and made one last trip through the bedroom and the rest of the house. Then, she got into her car and drove off without looking back.

Beca was about five miles from the house before she broke down and pulled over to the curb. The tears started slowly, and she let them fall unabated.

~Secret Love?~

“Thank God,” Stacie said when she opened the door of Beca’s house to find Aubrey standing there.

Stacie had tears in her eyes and started pacing back and forth. Aubrey closed the door and walked over to sit on the sofa. As Chloe and Beca’s best friends, Stacie and Aubrey knew all about Beca and Chloe’s secret relationship.

“I should have insisted that I bring her home,” Stacie berated herself. “I knew she shouldn’t have been left by herself. She seemed way too calm when she saw the ring on Chloe’s finger.”

“And you’re sure she left?” Aubrey asked.

“All of her clothes and mixing equipment are gone,” Stacie said. “She left some things on the bed. It looks like stuff Chloe had given her over the years.”

“Where do you think she went?” Aubrey asked.

“As far away from Chloe as she possibly can,” Stacie said. “I swear to God I’m going to kill Chloe when I see her. How the fuck can she be with Beca and get engaged to Chicago? If anything happens to Beca-”

Stacie and Aubrey stopped and looked toward the front door when they heard keys jingling. The door opened.

“Beca?” Stacie called out as she moved toward the door. She stopped and glared when Chloe walked through the door.

“Beca isn’t home yet?” Chloe asked as Stacie stood with her arms crossed over her chest, still glaring at Chloe.

“No, Beca’s not here,” Aubrey said, coming to stand next to Stacie.

“Is she still at an after-party?” Chloe asked. “I really need to talk to her.”

“Where were you?” Stacie asked. “Beca waited for you at the Grammys.”

“I, um, had a meeting with some producers for my next movie,” Chloe stammered. “It went longer than I thought.”

“Why didn’t you return Beca’s calls or texts?” Stacie asked.

“My phone’s battery died, and I didn’t have my charger,” Chloe said as she pulled out her phone. “Can I borrow yours to call Beca and see when she’ll be home?”

“Don’t bother,” Stacie spit out. “She’s not here, and she’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming back?” Chloe asked, confused.

“She packed up her stuff and left,” Stacie said.

Chloe’s eyes widened, and she ran upstairs to their room. Tears came to her eyes when she saw all of Beca’s stuff was gone except for what she left behind on the bed for Chloe.

“I don’t understand,” Chloe cried as she made her way back downstairs. “I thought things were going great with us. What happened?”

Stacie stood there fuming while Aubrey took Chloe in her arms and held her while she cried.

“Chloe,” Aubrey said gently. “She saw the Instagram post about your engagement with a picture of you and Chicago showing off your ring.”

“My engagement?” Chloe asked, pulling back to look at Aubrey. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play innocent with us,” Stacie said. “Gail confirmed it on Instagram and Twitter.”

Stacie pulled up Chloe’s Instagram account and shoved the phone in Chloe’s face. Chloe’s eyes widened when she saw the pictures and Gail’s comment about the happy couple.”

“These are photos from the movie,” Chloe said, barely containing her rage. “I’m not engaged to Chicago, nor do I want to be engaged to him. I’m going to kill that bitch.”

Chloe grabbed her phone and screamed in frustration when she saw it wasn’t working.

“Chloe, take it easy,” Aubrey said. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

Chloe quickly plugged her phone into the charger and paced back and forth while waiting for it to have enough charge to make a call. Stacie and Aubrey stood by, watching her pace back and forth.

“The only thing I regret is letting the studio hire that bitch as my manager and publicist in the first place,” Chloe said, seething.

Chloe checked her phone and saw she had enough power to make a call. She first tried Beca’s number, and it went to voicemail. So Chloe started speaking when the beep sounded to leave a message.

“Baby, please call me as soon as you get this. That story isn’t true. I swear to you; it’s not true. Call me. Please?!”

She ended that call and wiped a tear from her eye. She then pulled up Gail’s contact name and hit send. “She’d better answer her-”

“Hello, Chloe,” Gail answered in a sweet voice.

“Don’t hello me,” Chloe snarled into the phone. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing posting pics of Chicago and me and saying we’re engaged?”

Gail laughed. “Just more publicity for the movie.”

“Bullshit!” Chloe yelled at her.

“Chloe, calm down,” Aubrey said, trying to soothe the angry redhead.

“Chloe, look,” Gail said with an exasperated sigh. “The studio wants to hype this movie and told me to do whatever it takes to get more attention for it. This has garnered so much more attention-”

“I don’t give two fucks about how much attention this has garnered or what the studio wanted,” Chloe shouted. “You posted something on my Instagram account that I did not consent to. You will post a retraction on every social media account those pictures are on. You have ten minutes or else, so help me God, I will sic Aubrey Posen on your ass. Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear, you’re fired!”

“You can’t fire me,” Gail sputtered.

“I just did,” Chloe said and ended the call.

Chloe tossed her phone on the counter. She gripped the counter's edge and took several deep breaths to calm herself down. She wiped at a tear that had fallen down her face.

“I need to find Beca.”

~ Secret Love? ~

While Stacie and Aubrey were with Chloe, Beca sat in their living room. She did not know where else to go so after driving around for a couple of hours, she went to Stacie and Aubrey’s.

Beca had only turned on one lamp when she arrived. She was now sitting in the semi-dark living room with dried tear tracks on her face. She needed to talk to someone and finally sent Stacie a text asking when she would be home.

Stacie’s phone pinged, and she grabbed it.

“It’s from Beca,” Stacie said. “She wants to know when I’ll be home.” She furrowed her brow and then said, “Oh, my God! She’s been at our house all this time.”

Stacie immediately texted Beca to stay put and that she’d be home in twenty minutes. Chloe grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

“Wait, Chloe,” Stacie said and grabbed her arm.

“I have to talk to her,” Chloe said with tears in her eyes. “I can’t just-”

“I know,” Stacie said, interrupting Chloe. “But, if she sees you, she’ll react badly before you can say anything. Let me go to her and tell her what’s going on. I promise to bring her back here as soon as I can.”

“Stacie’s right, Chlo,” Aubrey said. “Let her do this alone. I’ll stay with you.”

“Please, Chloe,” Stacie said. “You know this is the best way to handle this. She’ll listen to me. Please, let me do this alone.”

Chloe swallowed and dropped her keys on the table.

“Okay,” she said and sat down on the sofa. “I’ll wait for you to bring her back to me.” Chloe let out a small sob. “Please bring her back to me.”

Stacie gave her a small smile and hurried out the door. Aubrey sat next to Chloe and put her arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Aubrey said. “I’ll make us some tea.”

As they walked into the kitchen, Chloe’s phone rang, and Gail’s name popped up on the caller ID. Chloe picked up the phone and answered the call.

“What!?” Chloe angrily answered.

“I did everything you said to do,” Gail said. “I’m sorry for posting it all without your permission. Now, can we talk about your next project?”

“Too little, too late,” Chloe said. “I meant it when I said you were fired. Now fuck off and lose my number.”

Chloe ended the call and checked Instagram. Gail had indeed printed a retraction and taken down all the photos. She pulled up her Instagram account and posted how the story was false and was put up without her permission by her EX-manager/publicist.

Chloe put her phone away. She wanted to shut it off because of all the new notifications she was receiving but didn’t in case Beca or Stacie tried to reach her. So instead, she sat anxiously waiting for Stacie to bring Beca home.

~ Secret Love? ~

Stacie walked in the door, and Beca looked up at her from the shadows.

“Oh, Beca,” Stacie said and hurried over to her friend. She pulled Beca to her, and Beca sat there, unmoving.

“Beca,” Stacie said as she pulled back to look at her. “Chloe came home just a while ago. She explained everything, and it’s not what you think.”

Beca stared blankly at Stacie. Stacie held Beca’s face in her hands.

“Listen to me, okay?” Stacie said. “Please respond so I know you can hear me.”

“I can hear you,” Beca mumbled.

“Good,” Stacie said. “Those pictures were fake. They were from the movie, and Gail put them up to try and get more publicity for it. Do you hear me? The pictures are from the movie. Chloe didn’t know they were out there until I showed them to her.”

“She is always checking social media,” Beca said. “I’m supposed to believe that she conveniently missed seeing those pics on her Instagram?”

“Her phone died,” Stacie said. “That’s why she didn’t call you or text you back.”

Stacie recounted what happened when Chloe got home.

“Beca, she loves you with everything she has.”

“I read a lot of the comments,” Beca said, staring at the floor. “Chicago wrote happiest man alive. Everyone else was congratulating her on getting engaged and how cute they were together. It was easy for everyone to believe the story because she hid our relationship. The only ones who knew about us were you and Aubrey.”

“I think you should talk to Chloe,” Stacie said. “Let her explain it all to you.”

“Why?” Beca asked, looking over at Stacie.

“What do you mean why?” Stacie asked.

“No one knows we’re together,” Beca said. “This can happen again, and it won’t be fake next time. I can’t bear feeling like this again. It’s too much. There’s nothing to explain, so I’m not going back.”

“You can’t believe that Chloe would allow this to happen again, do you?” Stacie asked.

“You said she didn’t allow it this time,” Beca said. “But it still happened. So I’m not waiting around for the next time.”

“Beca, don’t do this,” Stacie said. “Go talk to Chloe. Look, I believed everything at first. But, if you saw how she reacted when I showed her the post, you’d know she had no idea that Gail had done it. Please, Beca. I’m begging you. Don’t walk away from Chloe like this.”

Stacie and Beca’s phones both pinged with notifications. Stacie looked at hers, but Beca ignored her phone.

“Look, Beca,” Stacie said. “Gail posted a retraction saying it was false. Chloe approved it and put out her own message about firing Gail for going behind her back. See, it’s not real. She loves you, and you love her. Maybe it’s a good time to talk to her about making your relationship public.”

“I can’t,” Beca said sadly. “Her career means too much to her, and I’m not going to be the one to mess that up for her. So it’s best if we end it now.”

“Oh, Beca,” Stacie said sadly. “Her career doesn’t mean as much to her as you do. Can’t you see that?”

Beca stands and runs her hand down her face, wiping away the tears.

“Do you think Aubrey would mind if I crash here for a couple of days?”

Stacie let out a frustrated sigh.

“You know you’re welcome to stay anytime.”

Beca nodded her head and made her way to the guest bedroom.

~ Secret Love? ~

“Did you find Beca?” Aubrey asked as soon as she answered Stacie’s call.

“Yeah,” Stacie said and sighed. “She wants to end things with Chloe.”

“What? Why?”

“What’s Stacie saying?” Chloe asked.

“Put me on speaker, Brey,” Stacie said. “Chloe should hear this.”

Aubrey put the phone on speaker and held it out so Chloe could hear as well.

“Go ahead, Stacie,” Aubrey said.

“Chloe,” Stacie said and paused. “Beca’s inside her head right now and thinks it best if you end things.”

“What?” Chloe said, her voice quivering. “I’m coming over there.”

Chloe jumped up and hurried to the door, grabbing her purse and keys as she went.

“No, Chloe,” Stacie said. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Chloe, don’t!” Aubrey called out, but Chloe was already out the door. “Stacie, I’ll call you back.” Aubrey ended the call as she jumped up and went after Chloe. “Chloe, stop!”

Chloe stopped and turned to face Aubrey with tears streaming down her face.

“I need to fix this,” Chloe said, wiping her face.

“And you will,” Aubrey said. “Just not right now. You know Beca; her mind is made up, and if you go to her now, she’ll retreat farther away from you.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Chloe said. “But what else can I do?”

“Let’s go back inside and come up with a plan to keep you and Beca together.”

~ Secret Love? ~

It was just before six the next morning, and Aubrey was dozing lightly when her ringing phone woke her. She saw Stacie’s name on her caller ID and accepted the call, putting it on speaker and laying the phone on the coffee table near her head.

“Hey, babe,” Aubrey said.

“I was just checking in to see how you were holding up,” Stacie said.

“I’m okay, I guess,” Aubrey responded.

“How’s Chloe?” Stacie asked.

“I got her calmed down and in bed at around four,” Aubrey said. “And she hasn’t come downstairs, so I guess she’s sleeping. How’s Beca?”

“I don’t know,” Stacie said. “She went into the guest room a couple of hours ago. I was hoping she’d go to sleep, but I can hear her moving around. I don’t want to agitate her, so I’m leaving her alone.”

“What are we going to do?” Aubrey asked.

“I don’t think we can do anything,” Stacie said. “We both know Beca won’t make the first move, so it’s up to Chloe at this point.”

“I hate this,” Aubrey said.

“So do I,” Stacie said.

“Brey, I have a plan,” Chloe said as she rushed into the living room. “I know how to fix this and need your help.”

“What can we do?” Stacie asked.

Chloe furrowed her brow and looked around for Stacie. Aubrey stood, picking the phone up as she did, and waved it at Chloe.

“Whatever you need, Chloe,” Aubrey said. “Stacie and I are here for you.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “Here’s what I want to do.”

Chloe spent the next 20 minutes telling Aubrey and Stacie her plan.

“What do you think?” Chloe asked as she finished explaining her plan.

“I think she’ll love it,” Stacie said.

“I have to agree,” Aubrey said. “I think Beca will love it.”

~ Secret Love? ~

It was almost nine when Stacie left her house and hurried over to Beca and Chloe’s house. Aubrey let Stacie in when she got there.

“Chloe’s getting dressed,” Aubrey said. “She’ll be down shortly.”

“Good morning, Stacie,” Chloe said as she came down the stairs.

“Are you ready for this?” Stacie asked.

“Absolutely,” Chloe said. “I need to let Beca know how much I love her, and this should do it.”

“Okay,” Aubrey said. “Sit on the sofa, Chloe. I’ll handle the camera, and Stacie will make sure everything looks okay as we go. Okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe said as she took her place on the sofa. “I’m ready.”

Aubrey readied her phone and stood in front of Chloe.

“I’ll count back from three, and then you start,” Aubrey said, holding her phone up, making sure Chloe can be fully seen onscreen. “Okay, here we go...3. 2. 1.”

“Surprise everyone,” Chloe said. “Chloe Beale here live streaming to all my followers. I just wanted to come on here and clear up a few things that happened yesterday. First, to make sure everyone has heard, I am not engaged to Chicago Walp. He’s a good guy and will make someone a great husband, but that someone is not me. Second, the engagement ruse was perpetuated by my former publicist to promote the upcoming movie that Chicago and I are in together. The studio told Gail to do whatever she needed to do to promote the film, and she took that to mean lying to my fans. That is unacceptable, and I did not give her permission to use my social media accounts to perpetuate the lie.”

Chloe paused and shifted in her seat.

“The second thing I need to do is apologize to you guys. I’ve been lying to you. Despite appearances, Chicago and I are not dating. And I don’t want to be involved with Chicago in a romantic capacity because I’ve been in a committed relationship...with a woman… for a little over a year. I can’t really say too much about her without her permission, but I can tell you that she has been my rock for a very long time. She kept our relationship a secret so it wouldn’t affect my career. It was wrong of me to let her do that because it made the lie of my getting engaged to a man so easy to believe. I love her so much, and she loves me; at least she did. But, after the news about my phony engagement, she left and told me she thinks we should part ways. And now-” Chloe sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes. “And now, I don’t know how I will keep going without her.”

Chloe put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back a sob.

“Stop,” Chloe said, waving a hand at Aubrey. “I can’t do this. I need Beca.”

“I’m here,” Beca said, walking out from behind Aubrey.

Chloe gasped and ran to Beca; Beca wrapped Chloe in her arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Chloe said. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, pulling Chloe tighter to her. “I love you, and I’m sorry for saying we were over.”

“No,” Chloe said, pulling back to grab Beca’s head in her hands and look into her eyes. “I owe you an apology. I fired Gail, and I promise if it’s okay with you, I’ll tell the whole world about us. I never want to go through another day without you in it with me. I love you, Beca!”

“I love you, too, and I want the whole world to know about us because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. As a matter of fact-”

Beca stepped back from Chloe and got down on one knee. Chloe gasped and looked down at Beca.

“Oh, my God,” Stacie whispered. “She’s really going to do it.”

She moved to stand next to Aubrey and whispered, “Are you getting all this?”

“Yes,” Aubrey said. “I never turned off the camera.”

“Chloe, I love you,” Beca said, holding up a ring box. “Will you marry me?”

Chloe wiped the tears from her face and glanced up. Her eyes widened when she realized Aubrey was still live-streaming everything.

“Um, Beca,” Chloe said, reaching down to take Beca’s arms and pull her up. “We’re being live-streamed out to my fans right now.”

“I know,” Beca said, glancing over toward Aubrey. She waved and said, “Hi, everyone! I’m Beca Mitchell, Chloe’s girlfriend and hopefully soon-to-be fiancee.” Then, she turned back to Chloe. “I guess getting engaged during a live stream is one way of letting the world know about us. So, why don’t we ask your fans what they think you should do.”

Beca turned back to the camera. “So, what do you guys say? Should Chloe accept my proposal or not?”

Beca’s phone started pinging with notifications. She pulled it out to read them and smiled.

“Oh, look, SxyStacie says, Say YES!”

Chloe looked over at Stacie only to have her smile and wink back at Chloe. Chloe then looked at Aubrey; she was giving her a thumbs up.

“CBealesMama said you’d better say yes, or your dad and I will disown you,” Beca read. “Thanks, Mama Beale! And based on the number of thumbs up and heart emojis coming through, everyone thinks you should say yes. So, Chloe Beale, will you marry me? Or will you disappoint us all by saying no?”

Chloe stood there with her mouth agape.

“How did you-?” Chloe stammered, looking at Beca. “I’m so confused right now.”

Beca chuckled and pulled Chloe into a hug.

“Stacie told me your plan, and I told her I was ready to propose,” Beca said. “We decided we’d mess with you a bit before I did. So, I came over with Stacie and watched your live-stream on my phone outside. When you said you couldn’t do this without me, I knew it was time to come in and surprise you with the proposal.” Beca pulled back from the hug, saying, “Speaking of, you haven’t answered the question yet.”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed and kissed Beca.

Beca broke the kiss and looked at the camera.

“You guys all heard her say yes, right?”

Beca’s phone started blowing up with more notifications. She laughed and kissed Chloe again.

“Put the ring on!” Chloe said, holding out her left hand.

Beca took the ring out of the box and placed it on Chloe’s finger. Chloe held her hand up toward the camera, showing off the ring.

“My girl has pretty good taste, huh?” Chloe said before pulling Beca into another kiss.

The kiss went on, and Stacie stepped in front of the camera.

“Hi, I’m Stacie Conrad, Beca’s best friend,” Stacie said, smiling into the camera. “Beca and Chloe are going to celebrate their engagement now. They both thank you for your kind words of congratulations and your support. Bye for now.”

Aubrey stopped recording, and she and Stacie raced over to grab Beca and Chloe into a four-way hug.

“We’re so happy for you, two,” Aubrey squealed.

“I knew it would work,” Stacie said. “And it didn’t take much convincing to have Beca come with me this morning.”

Stacie and Aubrey stepped back, smiling at their two best friends.

“I knew I screwed up, and I was coming home to apologize anyway,” Beca said, pulling Chloe to her. “I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I love you, Chloe!”

“I love you, too,” Chloe said, pulling back from the hug to kiss Beca.

As the kiss continued, Aubrey grew uncomfortable, so she grabbed Stacie and dragged her out of the house.

#BeChloe Fluff #BeChloe #Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Stace and Aubrey are the best friends ever #BeChloeIsLegit

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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For steve when the reader is sick not like a cold sick but more of s long term sick and hes all fluffy and caring and loving and supportive

I'm extremely nervous about this one, but I tried. I promise, I really tried.

Warnings for hurt/comfort sorta, angst sorta, no specific mentions of what is wrong, oof--no editing, and then I just ran with some fluff...my version of fluff, I should say... ~1.3k

In Sickness and In Health

“Steve, stop fussing.”

“I’m not fussing. I’m making you food.”

“In that way. You are making food in that way that says you’re treating me like an invalid.”

“Everyone eats, sweetheart.”

“But everyone isn’t—“

“So you’ll be wanting a lemonade with this, I think,” he practically yells over you before you can name it again.

He can’t stop. He’s too proud or too petrified or something, but he hasn’t stopped for an instant. Not in weeks. No missions. Maybe two meetings. He helps you—unnecessarily—get ready for work and wind down when you get back. Every damn day.

It’s very cute and sweet and completely infuriating because he knows. You’re annoyed and feeling so overwhelmingly cared for, simultaneously flattered and exhausted by the idea that you maybe haven’t earned this level of care. All you did was fall ill. All your body did was fail you. The whole thing has been a tough pill to swallow.

You want to be grateful for Steve and all his…Steveness, but damn it, you also just want to feel like the same person you were before, the same person you might be again. Maybe. Except nothing is guaranteed, so it feels like you need to earn getting better even though there’s nothing that you did to lose the privilege of being alive. How do you make something right when you never did anything wrong?

“Don’t give me that face,” he grumps, sautéing something that should smell yummy but only makes you frown harder.

You lean against the kitchen counter and stare—pout really—arms crossed over your chest. No matter how much he feeds you, you’ll start losing weight soon. It’ll be obvious. You’re sure you’ll see that tell-tale change in the way he looks at you. You’re trying to prepare for that day, and it’s too hard to savor these moments when it should feel supportive and loving and normal.

“What face?” Obviously, you fucking know what face you’re making.

“If you’re going to stand there and look like that, at least pour me a drink, too.”

He’s gonna do that thing. That super annoying thing where he makes a satisfied ‘ahh’ sound after tasting a refreshing beverage. You know it’s coming, but you fill the glass with the lemonade that Steve made yesterday (during nearly this exact same conversation) and hand it over.

“Ahh,” he sips and smacks his lips dramatically.

You land halfway between punching him and smiling, so it’s a smirk and a gentle fist-bump to his arm.

“There she is,” he croons. “Now grab a plate.”

“You’re not eating?” Way to make you feel more like an invalid, Steve.

“No,” he argues, tilting some extra liquid off into the sink before transferring the dish, “we are sharing. In bed.”

Well. You’ll be damned. Steve Rogers loathes food in the bed.

He’s cute. That little shit is cute as he insists you tuck yourself between his legs and prop up against his chest. He takes turns with you: him feeding himself, him offering you a bite, you forking your own delicious mouthfuls in, and him asking for a bite without lifting a finger to do it himself.

He insists—as he’s done every night so far—that you two watch your favorite show, or listen to that book on tape you’ve been meaning to start, or play that new album from one of your most beloved artists. Steve just…adores you as if it’s no big deal.

You should love that the world centers around you, right? But it feels weird. It feels wrong in some way.

“I can’t take this anymore,” you finally break to him. “Seriously, you’re either acting like nothing’s wrong or that I’m fragile or both…which is just—“ you toss the plate onto his bedside table and wave your hands about, already tired (but you won’t admit it) “—how are you doing both of those things at once?!”

Steve’s eyes soften as if frowning, but his lips still turn up. He’s made of juxtapositions in every way: old and new, tender and strong, smart but naïve, a rock-hard teddybear.

“Sweetheart, I had an actually laundry list of things wrong with me for my entire life…up until I didn’t. And I may have been sick but it was still my life for a long, long time. I couldn’t just…do nothing. Buck and I were kids, ya know, teenage boys, so he made me do everything he did, exactly as much as he did. He wouldn’t coddle me—hell, he put me in way more danger than my ma ever knew about—and I still got in—“ his eyes go wide “—a lot of fights. A lot of fights which I had no business surviving, honestly.”

“Did all of it anyway.” Steve shrugs. “I’m just doing things with you that I love doing. I want you to live right now as much as I want you every day after this. Please don’t take your time away from me, too.”

Steve cups your face in his hands. “And yeah, I expect you to fight me on this. I fought Bucky tooth and nail for years. I know it feels like you have no control. I know it’s easy to lose sight of the point to anything, to everything.” He releases your face only to sweep his arms around your waist and pull you close, chin tucked over your shoulder so your cheek rests on his soft hair. “I also know that it’s incredibly hard to deny the good stuff when someone follows you around with it and shoves it in your face whenever possible.”

Steve showers your neck with kisses that tickle ferociously, sending you leaning back into him with your full weight, giggling and sighing until he’s had his flirtatious fill.

“A lesson from Bucky?” When your body stops weakly flailing, you feel boneless in a good way for once.

“You know it. That jerk,” he mumbles. “We can do different things. Whatever you want. Just let me still be here, please.”

It’s serious. You know he’s being so serious, but he has to understand. He says he understands. Everything outside your front door is about treating, coping, adjusting, accepting. In here, Steve is pushing normalcy, one thing you want but that feels so out of reach.

“So…by your example,” you tease, dipping your eyes to where he holds you firm, “I should keep picking fights.”

He purses his lips and clears his throat. “I’d prefer you didn’t.” He lightens when that gets another smile out of you. “You should let me love you.”

Steve rolls a finger down your face. “My whole life with you is on borrowed time. I should have been dead for years by now, but everyday I get this—“ he reaches down to thread his fingers through yours “—with you. And yes, sometimes I feel like I’m cheating time, and sometimes I wonder…what would happen if I weren’t here. The only thing those thoughts ever remind me of is that I am here though.”

He leans forward to place a gentle kiss to your lips.

“And you’re really cute when you’re grumpy.”

“Oh, I see,” you mutter into his lips, “you think you can keep being noble about this until I give in to you?”

He’s deliberate and languid in his physical reply, taking his time to adore every failing muscle in your fatigued body, but recovery or not, Steve never wavers.

“Yes, dear,” he whispers softly. “All day. Everyday. Over and over again.”

It’s the same love he showed you before. It’s the same love he’ll show you forever, however long that may be. For either of you. For both of you. Together.

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist]

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff and feels #fluff and romance #hurt/comfort #angst #ro answers

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xocasper · 2 years

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Stress Relief

Pairing: Ray Toro x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Five - Lingerie Warnings: NSFW content Tags: humiliation kink, lingerie, face-fucking, kitchen sex Word Count: 3445 A/N: I’m in a degradation phase right now. I don’t know why. Here’s more oral sex and degradation, featuring Ray this time! I promise there will be praise kinks soon. I don’t know when, but it’ll happen eventually!

Ray loved the guys, he really did, but some days he could feel himself graying.

The stress didn’t usually come all at once, but rather grew over time, weighing him down until Friday came to a close, leaving him with two days to rejuvenate before being swept away once more. It was a wretched cycle, but it was one he’d learned to live with. You had told him a million times to take breaks, remember to eat, breathe, even, but he brushed you off each time with the same lousy excuse: “I’m fine.”

A classic, the same two words you’d been hearing since this started. The new album was taking a toll on everyone, which meant four cranky musicians who couldn’t seem to agree on anything, and it was slowly tearing them apart. Gerard’s consistency was six-feet under, scatter-brained and obsessive, coming up with more concepts than they knew what to do with. Frank wanted to go one way with them, while Ray wanted to go another, spending hours fine-tuning everything until he could barely think. Mikey was caught in the crossfire, trying to be the mediator during each quarrel, only to get snapped at himself. All in all, band practices had become a bloodbath, and the weekends could no longer heal Ray’s troubles.

Luckily, you were his partner round the clock, acting as a full-time solace and his nightly relief. You knew he was wearing himself out, coming home hushed and exhausted after a long day of work, gloom seeming to be his constant mood. He stayed compassionate nonetheless, still worrying himself sick if you seemed even the slightest bit off, attempting to distract himself from his issues by prioritizing yours. It was a sweet mindset, but beyond unhealthy, leaving you just as concerned as him. Ray needed a break, and you were going to give it to him.

When Friday finally rolled around, Ray couldn’t have been more relieved, having half a mind to leave the second Gerard wrapped things up. Again, he truly loved the band, but after being at each other’s throats for five days straight, they all needed a breather. He expected the evening to go as any other–he’d return home and beeline for the couch, flopping down on the worn cushions for a moment before trudging to the kitchen, flipping a coin for takeout or leftovers. It was exhausting, but he still found himself grateful for the moment of peace. Part of him hoped that you had made something small; Ray was the epitome of “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, the bad days turning right around over a home-cooked meal.

He could already feel himself relaxing as he pulled into the driveway, pausing to take a breath before hauling himself inside. Even if it wasn’t any different from the rest of the week, he’d still had a long day. The incessant bickering and lack of sleep put an unshakable damper on his mood, hoping for anything to cheer him up. With low expectations and a pinch of faith, he trudged up the stairs, already relieved to be seeing you again.

Although he was expecting nothing more than pizza and a peck on the lips, he was in no way opposed to the aroma that filled the first floor. You had cooked just for him, something homemade despite the long hours you’d been working. For a moment, he felt guilty, overcome with a worry that you’d been putting his troubles first–weren’t you being smothered at the moment? You had certainly mentioned your coworkers piling their work onto you, so how come you were prioritizing him? Should he be the one taking care of you?

But this was about him. Ray took a minute, collecting himself after the week he’d had, tucking his intense compassion away for a moment. The past few weeks had been tough on both of you, and all you wanted was to show him some love. The least he could do was stop worrying about you for a night.

Full of anticipation, he kicked off his shoes, trying to keep his cool as he strode down the hall. Rounding the doorway to the kitchen, he was met with a truly breathtaking sight. For the first time in weeks, he couldn’t feel the stress and tension that hung in the air, waiting to rain down on the two of you. He couldn’t see your forced smiles, only real ones, eyes glistening with pride and excitement. You were in hardly more than his old t-shirt, and smiling sweetly as he leaned against the door frame.

He couldn’t resist the grin that pulled at his lips either, reaching his arms out as you padded across the floor. Naturally, his hands settled on your waist, yours holding his face as you kissed him. It was slow and meaningful, making up for the many kisses you had missed out on these days, containing more passion than all of them combined. Ray had always been wonderful to kiss, especially in soft settings–his lips were smooth, capturing yours over and over again as his tongue ran discreetly across your bottom lip. You gave in for a moment, letting him deepen the kiss before pulling away.

His lips still ghosted yours, and you could feel his mouth quirk up as he spoke. “What’s all this for?”

You gave him a small smile, pecking his lips once more before responding. “You.”

“Why?”

It wasn’t incredulous, but curious and flattered, Ray in mild amazement that you cared so much. His humility was certainly showing, failing to conceal his sheepish smile as you swayed in his arms.

“Because you’ve been working so hard lately, and you deserved something special,” you said, draping your arms around his neck. “And maybe because I love you, but who’s to say?”

His heart pounded in his chest, outpouring adoration as he gazed down at you. It was almost juvenile, the way Ray felt about you. You shared the sort of romance that made him feel fluttery and nervous, and he always wanted to do his best for you. He almost felt foolish, awfully flustered by his own partner as he gave a toothy grin, replying with a sweet, “I love you too.”

Having run out of things to say, he leaned in once more, keeping his hand on the small of your back as he kissed you. It was dizzying, languid and deep as he parted your lips, pulling you closer while his tongue swept against yours. He had missed this, the taste of you and how you kissed him, passionate and playful as you nipped at his bottom lip.

It was undeniably suggestive, and Ray had no issue mimicking your tone, placing his free hand against your cheek and stilling you as his tongue worked against yours. The quiet moan that slipped out was still loud enough for Ray to hear, motivating him to continue, sucking your lip between his as he pressed your back to the wall. His tenderness had swiftly evolved into something more heated, only pulling away for a moment before tilting your chin up and slotting his lips against yours again.

Subconsciously, his hands slid beneath your shirt, the cotton worn from age. It was your favorite, an old graphic tee that displayed a faded cartoon character, hardly decipherable anymore. The shirt was Ray’s favorite, too, making him smile as his fingers danced higher, humming curiously as he hit lace. He didn’t pause right away, letting your hands wander down to his, sliding them higher up your skin until he reached the curve of your breasts, covered by a mix of mesh and pretty lace.

“You’re home early,” you breathed, head tilting back against the wall. “This was going to be a surprise after dinner, but we’ve still got fifteen minutes to kill.”

He grinned mischievously, his mind swirling with lewd desires. “Don’t worry, I’ll still fuck you after dinner.”

Although a bit crude, it was said with sincerity, his sly suggestion well-received as you leaned up to kiss him again. With your back pressed to the wall and his hands firm on your hips, he had full control, already growing hard as you submitted. His stress had built up over time and he desperately needed a release—one that you were offering with open arms, pressing closer as you moaned against his lips.

You tasted like fucking salvation, Ray only realizing then how tense he had been, his kisses rough and heated as he gripped your jaw, tugging your lip between his teeth as he pulled away. He looked down at you, dazed as you leaned against the wall, your arms still hung around his neck to keep you steady.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he told you, swiping his thumb across your spit-slicked lips, your head lolling back as he pressed it to your tongue.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d seen you like this, eager as you swirled your tongue around his thumb, nearly choking as he pushed it further.

“Easy, honey,” he teased, and you reluctantly parted your lips again, letting him pull away.

Slowly, his hands trailed across your skin, his hands pressing against every curve, taking in the sight while you stood impatient. He quickly caught on, turning you until he was flush against the wall, settling against it while you stood restlessly. Giving a faint, arrogant grin as his touch slipped beneath your shirt, he murmured a single command.

“Strip.”

Once more, he smoothed over your skin and traced the hem of your lingerie, looking at you expectantly. Like clockwork, you stepped away from him, replacing his hands as your shirt hit the floor.

Wrapped in dark lace, you stared up at him, watching as his eyes raked over you. It wasn’t often that you dressed up for him, and he never let on to just how much he enjoyed it, but god, this could not be a one-time thing. He was entranced, admiring you with bated breath—it was scandalous and stunning, showcasing nostalgic passion that hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. Fuck, had he missed this, his hands gravitating to you once more, taking another long look.

“Baby, I’m gonna ruin you.”

He meant every word as they poured from his lips, radiating confidence and sincerity as he leaned back in. It made your stomach whirl, only murmuring a nonsensical “Please.”

Holding your waist, he gave you a final kiss, something messy and carnal before locking eyes with you. Any delicacy they once held had disappeared, replaced with an edginess, rough and dirty, and you knew you were in for it.

“Get on your knees.”

Compliant as ever, you followed his command, gliding your hands down his thighs as you sunk to the floor. His tone wasn’t mean, but rather confident and authoritative, giving you a rush of anticipation that gradually spun into arousal. Rarely was Ray anything but a sweetheart, but when he needed stress relief, you were nothing more than an outlet. Nimbly, you pulled off his too-tight jeans, fingers skating across smooth skin and strong calves as you pushed the denim to the floor. He was fucking irresistible, his legs chiseled and defined from years of performing, peppered with kisses as you nipped at his thighs.

The feeling of your teeth scraping against his skin, eased by lips and tongue had him spilling faint curses, but his impatience was increasing by the second. As much as he enjoyed your affection, he was antsy, tilting your head up after a moment. Giving him a look of faux-innocence was ineffective, Ray growing restless as he towered over you.

“Behave,” he told you, cradling your cheek in his hand.

Much to his displeasure, you kept the act up, shrugging as you leaned toward him again. “I am.”

He scoffed, gripping your jaw a little tighter. “Bullshit.”

You watched as his eyes flicked between you and the oven timer, and you internalized the idea of being interrupted. Obnoxious beeping wasn’t exactly a turn-on, and neither was burning the kitchen down, so you reluctantly picked up the pace. Ray’s warning look quickly melted away, replaced by satisfaction as his hand slid to the back of your head instead.

He was jittery, shifting as you pressed teasing kisses to his erection, each of them featherlight through the fabric of his boxers. You knew he was impatient, cupping him through the cotton as you blessed him with friction, only for him to push you closer. He was in control, and while you knew you shouldn’t push your luck, the sex that followed would be mind-numbing.

Still, you tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock as it stood proud in front of you. He was always impressive, thick and pretty as you pressed kisses across it. Every movement made him shift, filled with an insatiable want as your tongue dragged across the underside of his cock. You watched him close, feeling a similar desire begin to stir as you left open-mouthed kisses on his tip. At the same time, one of your hands wrapped delicately around the base, stroking him gently.

“Was that so hard?” he condescended, his lip caught between his teeth as he watched.

Part of you wanted to retort, but the winning half came up blank, landing on shutting him up instead. Lightly, you licked at the head of his cock, hardly skimming it before your tongue swept across his slit. He gave a small moan, jerking his hips slightly, but you pulled away.

“Don’t you want me to suck you off?” you snarked.

He rolled his eyes, “Hurry up and then I won’t have to do it myself.”

It had an edge of playfulness to it, but it was hardly banter. Admittedly, he was still stressed from work, and at the same time, you were trying to piss him off. Just to spite him, you pressed your hands to his hips and held him to the wall, giving him another sarcastic smile before continuing to swirl your tongue around his tip. This time, he didn’t speak—he didn’t move either, not more than locking his jaw and crossing his arms over his chest, presumably giving you free rein. It was far from that though, and you could tell.

Nonetheless, you continued to take it slow, your hand returning to his cock again as your tongue glided across it, hearing the soft hitch in his breath. It was hard for Ray to be stubborn, clenching his teeth as you sucked kisses into his skin, and then harder when your lips wrapped around the head. He fought every instinct, trying to keep his cool while you taunted him, flicking your tongue tantalizingly before pulling off.

“Are you done?” he asked, staring daggers at you.

You tilted your head, almost pondering the question, and then shrugged. “No.”

With a faint smile on your lips, your tongue lolled out, Ray watching as a single strand of saliva poured off, moaning softly as it landed on the head. Through half-lidded eyes, you ran your tongue across it, drool smearing itself across your lips as you wrapped them around his cock.

God, he fucking knew this was a game to you. The pretty lingerie, the teasing, all of it, and he couldn’t help but grow frustrated as you sat placidly with his dick on your tongue. He knew you were daring him to crack by your frozen frame, but he stood stubbornly, brows still furrowed in frustration. Again, you were split in half, part of you wanting to suck him off like an obedient slut, while the other voted to challenge his authority, and you followed the latter. Ray could only stand there for so long, your pretty lips wrapped around him, heavy on your tongue as you kept him warm.

When he refused to move, you pushed harder, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes as your hand snaked between your legs. Surprise crossed his expression, a breath of fresh air from his grimace, but it wasn’t the good kind—in fact, he was more upset at your audacity, hardly holding back as your hand slipped past your waistband.

You were already wet, turned on by the teasing and the idea of breaking Ray. This was bound to do it, collecting slick on your fingers before pressing them to your clit, rubbing slow circles while he watched. It wasn’t until you moaned around his dick that he moved, the vibration making his hips jerk and ultimately causing him to crumble.

“You’re such a brat,” he said suddenly, pushing further past your lips. “Stop fucking touching yourself.”

This time, you listened, satisfied as you pulled your hand away. That only fueled him more, clenching his jaw before speaking.

“God, you wanted this. You want to be fucked like a slut?”

You simply hummed around him, slowly beginning to bob your head before he pressed his palm to the back of it. He took matters into his own hands, tilting your head up as he eased himself into your mouth, encouraged by a choked moan.

“You dressed all pretty for this because you wanted me to crack, right? Because I’ve been busy and you needed to be fucked?”

He pulled out for a moment, looking at you expectantly. Compliant and burning with sweet humiliation, you spoke up.

“Yes.”

Ray laughed, a low, sardonic laugh, shocked and condescending. “C’mon, you had a lot to say earlier.”

You didn’t speak at all this time, leaning towards him again, but he pulled you away.

“I won’t let a brat suck me off,” he told you, catching your attention. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Just as stubborn, you gave another, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because no one sucks your dick like I do.”

It was arrogant and irritating, and Ray had fully lost his patience, pushing past your lips in frustration. He held your head up as he rocked his hips, moaning at the sensation. “Shit, you’re such a whore,” he choked, memorizing the sight of you.

You still looked just as pretty, sitting on your knees in skimpy lingerie, obediently taking his cock as he thrust into your mouth. Despite the ache in your jaw and the tears that pricked your eyes, you remained still, moaning at every insult he threw your way.

“You look so pretty though,” Ray added, slowing his thrusts and letting you move at your own pace. “My pretty slut.”

You retired your teasing, licking at the base of his dick before wrapping your lips around it, eagerly bobbing your head while he moaned above you. Somehow, it wasn’t enough to stop the buck of his hips, and you gave in yet again as he thrust. You wanted him to use you, wreck your voice and stain the pretty lace, and you knew he wanted it too.

Unable to speak, you tried to meet his hips, listening to the sounds that spilled from his lips. “Is this what you wanted?” he moaned, and you tried to nod in response

It was a poor attempt, but he understood, eyeing you once more before tossing his head back. “You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

Every word made arousal pool in your panties, desperate to get him off as he grew closer. His sporadic thrusts came to a stop as you took over, picking up his rhythm until he could feel his cock twitch. With a string of slurred curses, he pulled you off, moaning as you sat so pretty, tongue out as he jerked himself off.

You were a sight for sore eyes, and Ray couldn’t help but finish, staining the dark lingerie as he painted your chest in cum. Gently, he pulled you forward, sliding his leaking cock onto your tongue for you to clean up the mess, a task eagerly completed.

Panting softly, Ray looked back at the timer and gave a short sigh. While you looked pretty far gone, you weren’t quite ruined yet, and your lingerie was still begging to be stripped off. He spared you a glance, meeting a similar look of anticipation.

“What?” he breathed mockingly, a smile playing on his lips. “You want more?”

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.”

With a wicked grin, he shook his head, watching the clock while you stared up at him. His fingers tapped like a metronome, softly patting against his arm until the sound of beeping echoed throughout the kitchen. Thoroughly pleased with himself, Ray stared down at you, still smiling as he tilted your chin up, leaning over you patronizingly.

“Aw, shame,” he said, his lips turning down in a cynical frown. “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

kinktober taglist: @clichedlovers @halloweenbitch2764 @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohol @couldbegayer1234 @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @house-of-wh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @chronicallythicc

#ray toro x reader #ray toro smut #mcr x reader #mcr smut

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slayonehundredninetytwo · 6 months

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seatbelt

request: Hello, I’ve got another idea for a request! So I had this stomach ache during my soccer game and I decided to sit off the last 45 minutes because I knew from experience it would get worse if I continued to run around—so I was thinking: what if Felix (changed to Jisung) had a stomach ache during vocal recording for one of their songs and he sat in the same spot the entire time, refusing to get up unless called into the booth and not really talking to anyone because the pain was too great. Then they all head back home and it’s still bothering him. In the car he can feel it getting worse, and the pressure with the seatbelt around his stomach isn’t helping, so he tugs it looser and holds it slightly away from his midsection. Maybe one of the members, could be Changbin, notice it and question him, to which he denies how he truly feels. They’re nearly at the first dorm when he can’t hold it anymore—the pain has grown so much during the ride that he was battling naseau—and he throws up right as the van pulls into their street. You can choose how to end it and who acts as the caregiver when he finally gets sick. ❤️

Here they are again, recording a new track for a new album. Of course they were all excited! And of course, that includes Jisung. Being on the producing line, it was something they looked forward to throughout the whole production process, it really brings their ideas to life. But he was struggling to really enjoy it, as a dull ache resided in his stomach, and he struggled to keep his focus. The headphones he wore to hear the singing from inside the booth were squeezing his ears and giving him a headache. His stomach hurt way worse in comparison though. Normally, he would be contributing to the recording and directing the singer in the booth, but today, he sat quietly in his chair, only really contributing when asher for his opinion. Even then, his responses were along the lines of “That’s good.” or “Smoothen it out a bit.”, simple answers that didn’t require much thought.

Chan didn’t notice his friend’s condition. He was in the zone. Changbin however noticed it fairly quickly. Usually Han would be spinning on his spiny chair or moving around somehow as they worked, today, he stayed perfectly still in his chair. Changbin looked at Han, seeing his tired face did not have its usual color, now looking eerily pale.

Changbin quietly pointed at the boy before doing 👌 in order to silently ask “You okay?”

Jisung gave a little head nod, although Changbin was not quite convinced.

Finally, it was time to head home. Jisung couldn’t wait to go home and sleep off whatever was bothering him. He sat down in the car, quickly buckling his seatbelt, eager to return home. As the car took off, he felt so uncomfy in his seat. His seatbelt dug into his stomach, squeezing the already upset organ. The pressure and the movement along the bumpy road were definitely not helping his discomfort.

Changbin had been keeping close watch on the boy, and noticed the way Han tugged at his seatbelt to release pressure on his stomach. He leaned over to Jisung and whispered,

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m okay. A little tired I guess.” he was lying straight through his teeth, and Changbin could tell.

“Okay. Why don’t you lean your head on my shoulder for a bit. We’re almost home.”

hoping to atleast provide some comfort. Han gratefully complied, but couldn’t fall asleep because of the cramping in his stomach and the nausea. But it was still nice.

Even as his eyes were closed, he knew they were about home because they had been turning a lot. Before they reach their dorms, there’s like a million right and left turns, which only added to the nausea. Changbin watch as the color drained from his dongsaengs face as they were just about to pull in. The boy jerked his head up off of Changbin’s shoulder to hopefully avoid getting vomit all over his friend, but was a tad too late, splashing a guppy of vomit on his hyungs lap. He started to cry out of guilt, pain, and definitely from the fever, each sob just made him sicker.

“Hannie, it’s okay, let’s just get you out of the car, alright?”

“O-okay- huUUurk” He retch, splashing out more hot liquid onto the floor.

“Shit.”

The rest of the group tried to make themselves as little as possible so Han could squeeze past them. He made it out of the car with no more mess, but the second he got out of the car, the flood gates were opened- no- RIPPED OFF and the puke flowed out of him like a fountain. It was atrocious. Even the members who weren’t quite as squeamish had to avert their eyes from the grossness in order to not loose their own stomachs.

Once his stomach had completely emptied itself, he shakily sat down on the curb, still crying.

“It’s really okay Ji. Are you ready to go inside.” Changbin said.

He gave a head nod as Chan and Changbin helped him into their dorm, sitting him down on the couch. The couch was already set up with pillows, blankets, and a bucket, courtesy of Hyunjin who had already headed inside to avoid the atrocities that were happening outside, since he had a sensitive stomach and couldn’t handle that. HE gave a gentle smile as he handed Han a bottle of water and some pills.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to get the pills down quite yet, but atleast drink some water.”

Jisung didn’t know if he could stomach even the water, but his throat was destroyed and he knew it could help.

“Thankyou.”

“No problem. I just want you to feel better.”

sorry this took a million years, i worked on it diligently whenever i could but i’m a busy gal what can i say

🫶

#skz sickfic #stray kids sickfic #skz emeto #kpop sickfic #chitchat192

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thejamiei · 18 days

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Jamie’s♥️ Diary … 9/04/2024

So, Just Bear With Me, Grrrrrrr 🐻, he💋 he💋 he💋 Make Sure You Check The Check 💵 And This One And/Or , That’s And And Or Or Is Funnies … 😊

Liek, When You Bare Something, You Take On A Load. So Taking On A Load Requires Time, Hence It Means Take Some Time With Me And I’ll Show You … I Don’t Know How These Words Get Past Spellcheck, It Must Be A Cheap Phone Or Something Like That. Serius?

Artificial Intelligence Is Still Artificial. It’s More Like Artificial Stupidity.

Anyways, It’s 10 Days To Go Until TTPD And Taylor❤️ Already Said That This Album Is For Her, Hence There’s No Promotion For It. I Think She’s Creating New Work For Her European 🇪🇺 Eras Tour 🏟️ So She’s Probably Really Busy. I Get To Go Along With Her As I Have Done On The 1989 World Tour In 2015 … I Wish Swifties Would Stop Insinuating That Lover And Some Of Tays💋 Songs Are About Joe Because There Not. I’mmmmm💋 Also Taylor’s❤️ Back Up So They’re About Mmmmm💋 Eeeee💋. I’mmmmm💋 Taylor’s❤️ Everything !!! Did People Think She Would Write Songs So Beautiful And Good Just For Her To Feel Stupid When They Broke Up Later On. It’s So Obvs.💋 She Allways Plays Her Ace.♥️

That’s Mmmmm💋 Eeeee💋 !!!

So, TTPD Is For Her However, Knowing Tays💋 Babe💋, She Will Create ✨. You Would Not Be Bejewelled Next To A Gorilla 🦍.

I Real💋 Love♥️ Taylor❤️ … 💌

…

Anyways On A Different Note, Israel 🇮🇱 Is Just Exercising Its Right To Protect Its Own Country And There Are Always Casualties In Any War Whether They Be Women And Children. It’s Not Even Palestine 🇵🇸, It Is Hmas Terrorists Who Murdered Whole Families, Took Mothers And Babies As Hostages And Are Always Attacking Israel 🇮🇱 For Years. They Use Humans And Infrastructure As Shields And Some Palestinians Are Also Hmas. So, It’s Not Like They’re Innocent And Far From It. I Get Annoyed When People Who Support Palestine 🇵🇸 Don’t Even Know The Full Story. You Support Palestine 🇵🇸, You Support Terrorists. The Media, Once Again Blows Everything Out Of Proportion With No Fact Behind Their Articles.

In Fact, There Has Been Agreement About The Two Countries Before When Bill Clinton Was American President And It Was The Palestinians Who Broke The Peace Deal When They Continued To Attack Israel 🇮🇱 And Continued To Murder Their Population.

Palestinians 🇵🇸 Are Not As Innocent As They Seem, They Are The Ones Who Wanted War When They Attacked, Murdered And Took Hostage Men, Women And Children Including Infants, Using Their Own Population As Human Shields.

Get Your Facts Straight, Next Time.

And As It Goes For Joke, That Loser Wouldn’t Know Anything And Nether Would Travis Stench. Alls They Know About Is Acting And The Stupid Football. They Both Got The Mentality Of Baboons.

Why Should We💖 Even Get Involved With Something That Doesn’t Even Affect Us 🇺🇸 And Who Are We💖 To Tell Other Countries What To Do ?

As Benjamin Said, “ No Force In The World Is Going To Stop Us … “ And Now We💖 Know Why.

No One Likes Terrorists, And They Should Be Wiped Out Completely. Hmas Uses Palestinians 🇵🇸 As Human Shields. Why Didn’t They Stop Them, Because They Are Also Terrorists. As If We💖 Didn’t Know.

Anyway, I’m Sick Of Seeing It.

I Hope They Go In And Get Rid Of All Of Them And Stop This Insane Madness.

Otherwise, It Would Never Stop, So It’s Not Like Israel 🇮🇱 Has A Choice Anyways … 😊

…

It’s 3:00am And I’mmmmm💋 Sleepies Now … 🕰️

I Just Real💋 Love♥️ Taylor❤️ … ✉️

0 notes

jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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jimsbeetroot · 2 years

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hendrix ♱ jim root

the guitar wizard becomes a father!

One thing everyone in Jim’s circle knew was that he was absolutely head over heels for you. And for a long time, it was just the two of you. For 11 years to be exact. You’d never planned pregnancy because you felt so comfortable in the environment you and Jim had created for yourselves. It was quiet and relaxed. Loud when you wanted it to be, but mostly peaceful.

So that one morning, when you’d woken up feeling as if you’d drunk a 100 bottles of vodka the night before, you knew something was wrong. Jim was fast asleep by the time you’d retrieved from the bathroom where you’d puked your guts out, and by the time he’d awoken from his slumber, you’d already been to the doctor’s office and returned with some unexpected news; you were pregnant.

Children was never something you’d objected to. You loved children, but you were also willing to compromise and have it Jim’s way. But after thinking about it long and hard, Jim had never mentioned that he didn’t want kids. He’d never mentioned them at all, actually.

You wanted to tell him in a lowkey setting. You weren’t even sure what you were going to do yet. Nothing was clear at all. You just knew that you needed to tell Jim.

“You’re acting very strange,” Jim said and took a sip of his morning coffee. He sat by the kitchen counter in a band shirt and his sweats. You’d forgotten just how well Jim knew you. How he could see right through all of your walls, and all of your cover-ups.

“It’s because I have something to tell you.” You smiled nervously and tapped your foot against the wooden floor. “Are you breaking up with m-“

You didn’t even let him finish the sentence before you’d rushed over and sat on his lap. “No! No, of course not,” you shushed him and rested your head on his chest. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him and smiled unwaveringly. “I’m pregnant,”

Jim froze up. His whole body was completely still and for a moment you were worried if he was about to pass out.

“Jim?” You asked out and snapped your fingers in front of his face. He looked down at you with wide eyes.

“Pregnant?” Jim asked and you nodded nervously. “But listen, I haven’t figured anything out yet and there’s lots of time left if we decide to get an ab-“

“You’re pregnant?” Jim asked again. “Yes, Jim. I’m pregnant,” you said and stood up from Jim’s lap. “Ho-When?” Jim asked and stared into thin air.

“I went to the doctor’s office today. I just had a feeling,” you said and put your hands to your mouth, biting your nails in anxiety.

“Are you sure?” Jim asked and you reached for three pregnancy tests you had in your pocket and laid them out on the table.

“Positive,” you smiled. Something changed in Jim’s eyes. From panic to comfort.

“Oh, my God, Y/N. You’re pregnant!”

Jim jumped up from his chair and engulfed you in a massive hug. He laughed into your hair and brushed your back. “We’re gonna have a child!” Jim exclaimed and squeezed you tightly. “Wait-you’re okay with this? What about the album?” You asked and Jim shook his head.

“Fuck the album, Y/N! We’re going to be parents!”

The next nine months went by smoothly. Sure, there was some morning sickness and some serious moods from time to time, but other than that, you were fine. Jim had taken off some time at work to be at home with you in time for the baby’s arrival, and the both of you had been busy enough with fixing the nursery for your little boy. The thought of labour had kept you awake at night, but somehow, you had a boyfriend, who was even more scared than you were. He was so worried for you and your well-being, and had been through your whole pregnancy. He’d developed quite a protective trait as well. Often, he’d catch himself in carrying you from and to the car. He even yelled at Corey once for ‘getting too close to the bump’ when he’d tried to hug you. Of course, you’d found it hilarious, but Jim was dead-set on keeping you - and the baby - safe and sound.

Then the day finally came. It was 2, maybe 3 AM when you’d woken up, all sorts of liquids flushing out of you. Crying and shouting, you’d woken Jim up in a frenzy. He’d carried you to the bathroom, changed your clothes for you, and within literal minutes, the both of you were packed into your truck, all of the baby bags neatly loaded in the back.

The labour itself was about 8 hours long, and when pushing time finally came, a whole different you came out. You were screaming like a Viking, and you held on to Jim’s hand so tightly, you swore you heard him quivering in pain.

He was brushing your hair and kissing your cheek through the whole ordeal, and suddenly, there were baby cries. The most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

“Congratulations! It’s a baby boy. Born at 9:03 PM. Weighs 5 pounds, 8 ounces and he’s 19 inches. Do you have a name?” The doctor asked as he laid your baby-boy on your chest. You looked tiredly up at Jim and nodded. “Hendrix.” You smiled and Jim nodded, resting his head on your shoulder as he watched his newborn baby carefully.

“He’s got your nose,” you smiled. “I hope not,” Jim joked and carefully brushed his long fingers on top of the small child’s head.

#chris fehn #corey taylor #craig jones #james root #jim root #joey jordison #mick thomson #paul gray #shawn crahan #sid wilson #slipknot #slipknot fanfic #slipknot x female reader #children #otp prompts #writing prompt #jim root x female reader #jim root x reader #jim root fanfic

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indieboysarehot · 2 years

Text

QYURRYUS - Julian Casablancas x reader

A/N: I committed so many sins writing, but....I kinda popped off though.Y/N is 26 btw.

Being the (26 year old) daughter of a recording studio owner had its perks. Famous musicians coming in and out all the time, meeting them, and even becoming acquaintances or friends with them was the best experience, and you were forever grateful for your father for letting you come with him whenever he recorded people or mixed what they have recorded. He taught you all you needed to know, letting you even start to mix for certain artists. Another perk, though? You got to hear most music before anyone else got to.

Today The Voidz was recording their album ‘Virtue,’ and you were more excited than you probably should’ve been considering MANY things. Julian Casablancas was your long time crush ever since you were a teenager when you discovered The Strokes, so…you could already tell today was going to be interesting.

You walked over to your father who was practically ordering the band around, telling them who would record next, how he wanted Julian’s voice to really be pulled through the raucous of the instrumental, yelling when they got a good take, and sighing when they messed up. Your dad ran a tight shift at Surround Sound Studios and sometimes you just knew not to get in his way, so, today you didnt. You wanted to talk to the band, but you knew you’d probably fall into the wrath of your father, telling you that you were distracting the men. So…you said nothing.

It wasn’t until everyone decided to take a break that Julian came up to you and complimented your t-shirt.

“I love Sonic Youth.” He smiled charmingly.

“O-oh yeah. My dad gave this to me. It’s uh…it’s from the 80s when they released ‘Daydream Nation’.”

“Oh that’s sick! That’s the first album I listened to by them.”

He smiled again and walked away when one of his bandmates called him over to listen to the track that they recorded. You sighed, a little disappointed that you and he didnt talk a little more, but, at the same time, he was there to work, not to chum it up with the owner’s daughter.

——————

“QYURRYUS” was the track that was being recorded next and, you had to admit, it was your favorite so far.

“Hot track, hot dress, undressing this hot mess. Getting off on the west side, all day on a roof in the west side”

You were entranced by his voice. HOW could someone sound so SEXY using AUTOTUNE!? The talking he did as the first three lines made your heart beat faster and faster, his deep voice making you rather...frustrated. WHY did he have to be so HOT?! And WHY did you HAVE to have a crush on him?! You cursed your dad for booking The Voidz.

Looking away, you blushed hard, your face as red as a tomato. “Hey dad..? I’m gonna step out for a sec, It’s getting a little hot in here.”

“Yeah go ahead, get some fresh air, doll” He replied, a little distracted sounding.

You walked outside and lit a cigarette, trying to get your mind off of the man in the recording booth singing about how he wanted to “undress this hot mess.” God, you wished you were the hot mess he was wanting to undress—

‘STOP! NO! He’s like 40! That’s weird! And like…he’s here to work, not get lucky!’ You reprimanded yourself for even thinking about him that way. You didnt know him and he didnt know you, so why were you acting so awkward? Like c’mon Y/N!!!

You decided to walk back in like nothing happened. The band was still recording the SAME song they were recording since you walked out. Sighing, you sat back down on your stool and watched Julian sing. For some reason, he was looking at you as he sang.

“Hot track, hot dress, undressing this hot mess. Getting off on the west side, all day on a roof on the west side.” He was staring right at you very intensely. Why….?

———————

“THAT’S A WRAP, GUYS! Ya did great! See ya tomorrow bright and early for the next session, alright?” Your dad yelled into the recording room, utterly proud of the men’s work and the mixing that he did.

Everyone packed up what they needed to pack up and, when everyone was walking out, Julian pulled you to the side.

“Hey, Y/N, right? I was wondering if you wanted to listen back to the mix that we did? I’d like a younger ear to listen, yknow?” He laid a hand on your shoulder, smiling.

“Oh..sure! I’d love to, especially since my dad didnt let me listen to the last mix. He said he ‘wanted it to be a surprise’ for me. Ugh..”

“Alright, well, I’ll tell the guys that we’re staying back to listen to the mixes.” He walked off to tell the guys, and, when he came back, was still smiling and being very enthusiastic about listening to the songs.

———————

“God, Julian, they’re great! BUT I think the bass needs to be heavier. Plus….you could ALWAYS use a little more autotune—“

“So you think my voice sucks, yeah?” He joked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Oh fuck you, that’s not what I meant.”

“Fuck me? Oh believe me, I’ve wanted you to all day.” Julian said matter-of-factly

You were taking a sip of water when he said that, making you choke.

“Gotcha choked up, huh. Can’t really blame ya, I am gorgeous and sexy and all around man of the year every year.” The man shrugged, getting up. You didn’t know if he was joking about the whole you two fucking thing or not.

You bit your lip, a little embarrassed. You really felt like an idiot for falling for what he said.

‘You dipshit, of course he was joking—‘

“I wasnt joking, yknow. I’ve been eyeing you all fuckin day and, Jesus Christ, the studio’s owner has got one hot mess of a daughter.”

“O-oh—“

“I saw ya lookin at me too, so dont act like you’re all innocent,” he laughed, “you were practically eye-fuckin me the entire time we were recording!”

You looked at him totally stunned. What the fuck was going on and what world were you currently living in?!

Julian stepped towards you and grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, making you look up at him. “I know you’ve got some…things up in that pretty little head of yours that you’re holding back. And believe me, I’ve got some things I was holding back all day. Like I said, the owner’s got one hot daughter.”

Your eyes were wider than saucers as you stared up at him, totally shocked that this was even happening. Oh god…you knew you were gonna do something kinda stupid with him, but at the same time…you didnt really care all that much. I mean come ON, PEOPLE, IT’S JULIAN CASABLANCAS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE! You nodded at his comment about how he knew you were thinking of some things because…you were. It was very obvious.

The way you crossed your legs, squeezing them together whenever he spoke, the laugh you’d produce when he made a joke, the little shudder you made when he brushed his hand against your tense thigh - those were all tells and Mr. Casablancas knew them well from his years of experience. In simpler terms, you were horny and he knew it.

“So what’dya want, love?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Was this really happening?

“Use your words, cmon, I know you can.” Julian teased, moving in a little closer to your lips, barely brushing them against yours.

“I-i want to like…I wanna..—“

The singer was little tired of waiting, so he kissed you passionately, very lustfully. His hand traveled up your shirt quickly, cupping your chest, kneading the soft skin as his lips devoured yours relentlessly.

You let out soft moans into his mouth, giving him access to kiss you deeper and with tongue. He seemed utterly pleased with himself that the daughter of the recording studio’s owner would be into him and well…put out a little for him. It wasn’t like he saw himself as better than you though, it was more that “I cant believe this is actually happening” sort of feeling. He was just as stunned as you were, but he hid it a lot better.

Pulling away was difficult for the both of you, neither party wanting to end the kissing, but human’s do need air and the both of you were severely out of breath.

Panting slightly, he began: “What do you want? Tell me, I’ll do whatever. You’re hot as hell and I’m down for anything. Really. Your wish is my command.”

You nodded along with what he said. There was one thing you had been thinking about since he stepped into the studio and started singing and that thing was….

Gathering up some confidence, you got down on your knees and then looked up at him, silently asking if it was okay, to which me smiled and said a soft “go ahead, love.” Sucking in a breath, swallowing some spit, and then blinking a few times just to get the disbelief out of your head, you unzipped the singer’s jeans and pulled them down.

You had only done with a couple of times, so you were quite scared if Julian - since he was older and more experienced - would be disappointed in your lack of ability, but here you were, going for it anyway.

Kissing the outline of his member, you looked up with wide eyes, knowing it would drive him crazy. When you had decided that enough was enough with teasing, you got down to business.

Pulling his length out of his boxers, you were nervous, but you licked his member from the base to the head. Julian let out a hiss, telling you to do that again. You did in an attempts to get him to do it again. I mean, the noise was hot as hell.

Bobbing your head was a bit difficult along with not using teeth, but you managed as best as you could. Julian used your hair to help guide you up and down, causing you to moan out just like he was. The sounds made in that mixing room were definitely not traditional music, but…maybe we could call it noise rock in a way…?

He was close, you could definitely tell that much from the way he was bobbing your mouth up and down his cock faster and faster. Your eyes were filled with a few tears, but you sucked it up (haha) and kept going; you wanted to get him to finish. You just had to.

“Fuck, Y/N…goddammit, you’re so sexy”

Since you had a literal dick in your mouth, you couldn’t respond…obviously.

And like that, after a few more moments of your mouth going up and down on him, he finished. You swallowed, trying to show him that you weren’t afraid to do so. He smirked.

“You swallowed, haha” He ruffled your hair and then helped you up after tucking himself back into his pants.

“Y-yeah..of course I did.” You replied, totally shocked at what had just happened.

Suddenly, the door opened and your father walked inside.

“Julian, Y/N, how long have you two been here? We went to get dinner, but we had to leave cuz we were all done and you guys just didnt come.”

Julian smirked. ‘I know I did,’ he thought to himself.

“Well, we just got really hung up on the songs, yknow? She really digs ‘em. Says youre a great mixer, though you probably already knew that she knew that, yknow?” Julian smiled, being rather coy and acting oh so innocent, like nothing ever happened.

“Well…thank you Y/N, but you two should probably pack it up cuz we’ve got an early mornin’ tomorrow, alright?”

“Yessir”

“Yeah dad,” you smiled at him before he left the room.

You and Julian looked at each other, smirking.

“Call me some time, alright?” He said, totally meaning what he it, as he handed you a piece of paper with his number on it.

All you could do was nod and smile back at him.

‘Wow..’ You though, ‘what a night.’

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

I feel dirty.

#julian casablancas #Julian casablancas x reader #Julian casablancas imagine #the strokes imagine #the strokes #the strokes x reader #the voidz #nick valensi #Nikolai Fraiture #albert hammond jr #fab moretti #Fabrizio Moretti #wow #i am embarrassed #woah #woah woah woah #I kinda popped off though

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

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Don’t Worry, Darling (one-shot)

Synopsis: Falling in love with a co-star is something that can hurt, especially when it seems like they’re talking to other people behind your back, but falling in love with a co-star and being unable to help when they’re sick, is even worse.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: COVID-19, sickness, swearing, SMUT (fingering, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

Word count: 11 968 (yoikes)

Please note I’m not trying to make light of the pandemic or the virus and those impacted by it. It’s a very real and serious thing, which is why I decided to use it. Please stay safe and healthy, follow the local health guidelines and if you have the ability please get vaccinated. Let’s keep ourselves and one another safe, frens :)

When Y/N got the call she’d gotten the role of Jack’s ex-wife who’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, she was over the moon. As a Marvel alumnus, she was excited to work with Florence, as she’d loved Midsommar, and knowing she was going to be one of the new faces carrying the next Marvel chapter, she wanted to get to know her. Having played Tony Stark’s adopted daughter since the age of six, she was very protective of the franchise but was excited to see where it’d go.

Then Shia LaBeouf, Chris Pine as well with Dakota Johnson’s announcements coming soon after, Y/N got even more stoked, and with Olivia Wilde leading all of them, she was sure the movie would be a hit.

Shia and Dakota had to drop out due to scheduling issues (which Y/N couldn’t lie – she was kind of happy Shia couldn’t do it), and that's where Harry Styles took over the role of Jack with Kiki Layne Dakota’s Margaret.

Now, when Y/N had seen Harry’s picture next to the re-cast e-mail the whole production had been sent out, she might’ve had a little (a massive, like a ginormous) freak-out. As much as she’d grown up listening to classic rock, due to Robert Downey Jr. and Iron Man, she’d been an avid One Direction fan. Like to the point, it might even seem a bit creepy. Y/N had sort of grown out of the obsessive phase of it all, but most definitely admired the solo albums they’d been able to produce, and when Dunkirk came out, she was excited to see Harry join the acting world, with the amount of talent he had.

The first table read was sort of awkward, and definitely the weirdest one, given how a pandemic had started, and everyone was at their respective homes using Zoom.

Y/N and Florence had been the first to join the conversation about half an hour before the official beginning, and by the time everyone else did, they were crying from laughter and had to excuse themselves from their computers to collect whatever remaining composure they had.

“You two alright?” Oliva Wilde had raised her eyebrow, as the women re-joined, still chuckling. “Will we have to use body doubles for the scenes you two are in?”

“No!

“Nohooo!” both of them yelled through laughter. “We’ll be as professional as professionals are. Which is very professional.”

Then Y/N made the mistake of glancing at Florence’s square, and the two busted out laughing again, spewing apologies in between, but no one seemed to really mind. In fact, it looked like they appreciated how casual and open everyone was being, hoping the set wouldn’t be stiff either when they moved onto filming.

And for the two women, it wasn’t really. Actually, they grew closer than ever. The amount of time Florence spent in Y/N’s trailer was to the point that the two started to talk about just moving in together. After scouring the nearby apartments for rent, they settled on a three-bedroom apartment, as two-bedroom ones were non-existent.

When Harry grew closer to them as well, given how he spent quite some time with both women, they suggested he move in as well.

“You know, what? I changed my mind. You’re taking away our closet, and I don't like that,” Y/N pouted, watching as Florence lifted a pile of her clothes and moved it to her room. “That’s not very ‘treat people with kindness’ of you.”

All he did was flick a finger at her forehead, which Y/N swatted away with a smile. When he’d double-checked about moving in with them (which, mind you was the seventh time, and half his stuff was already there), the two women were ecstatic. They got along amazingly on set and basically having a sleepover with friends every night suited all of them quite well.

At that moment, Y/N was sitting on the edge of her bed, knitting while Harry painted all of their toes and Florence put on facemasks.

“Wine!” Y/N suddenly exclaimed, almost knocking over the light blue nail polish bottle as she jumped up, throwing her needles back on the bed. “We need wine!”

“Do not ruin my masterpiece!” Harry hollered after her, as she waddled away on her heels, toes separated by foam and hight up in the air. She even had to manoeuvre around the carpet to avoid any hairs and fibres that could get stuck inside the still wet lacquer.

It took her a second to find a bottle all three of them could enjoy, given their tastes were so different – Y/N preferred sweet and red, and didn’t care if it was a three-dollar bottle from Target, Harry had a bit more of an expensive pallet, giving preference to something with a more of a lingering aftertaste and in the higher ranges of price point, while Florence liked rosé and white wines.

Taking two glasses in one hand and the bottle with a third glass between her fingers, she shuffled back to her room when she heard the two muttering something in low voices before Harry whispered harshly, “I’m not telling Y/N that!”

“Won’t me what?” Y/N’s question made him and Florence spring back where they’d been engaged in a heated conversation when she re-entered the room, putting the wine bottle and glasses on the nightstand.

Florence waved her off, giving her a smile, she didn’t believe in. “Nothing. Now come on, Harry will do your fingernails now, and I think it’s about time the mask came off.”

And that’s when Y/N’s heart dropped. She’d been in the industry long enough to know how fake people could be, how they could put on smiles so inviting and friendly while hiding their true intentions behind them. She just didn’t think two people she’d found so genuine and sweet would be like that.

And the thing was – it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the two whispering like that and hushing up when they saw her enter the room or even come somewhere near to them.

In the beginning, Y/N had chalked it up to the two being closer, given they had to spend more time together, so they knew one another better, but this time sort of solidified it wasn’t the fact the two were closer, it had to deal with Y/N specifically.

So, she started to distance herself. She’d had enough users in her life to last her for the rest of it. Y/N excused herself from the movie nights they had on most Fridays, she no longer joined in on the cooking sessions and mostly spent time in her room, or on work calls.

When she re-entered the flat, four weeks after their falling out, they watched as she nodded to them, and went inside her room, closing the door, much like she’d been doing for the past thirty days.

“Do you think she knows?” Harry asked, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he hoped the doors would open, yet, obviously, they didn’t.

“Well, I haven’t told her, and unless you did, then I doubt it…”

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“No, but if she’s upset maybe she needs to talk to someone.”

“Or maybe she wants to be alone.”

Harry bit his lip thinking over Florence’s words. When he was upset about something, he himself did like to kind of retreat and become a little bit of a recluse, to sort out his emotions before anyone else tried to jump in and help with it, but the thing was – Y/N’s distancing started the night when she’d walked in on the two of them arguing, and it’d been about the girl in question herself, so he shook his head. “I’ll just ask if she’s alright.”

He took a deep breath and went to enter the room he hadn’t seen in almost a month. “Hey.” Harry poked his head through Y/N’s door, making her swirl around in her chair. She looked adorable to him. She’d changed into a big fluffy nightgown, the hood up, a headband pushing hair away from her face with a green facemask covering her skin. The domestic life flashed through Harry’s head like a freight train, as it was something he craved, but pushed it away. There was no daydreaming before figuring out what was in front of him in reality. “You okay?”

“ 'M fine.” She shot him a quick smile. “Why? Did Olivia send something new for the script?”

“Um, no, ‘s just you’ve been, I dunno – detached a bit?”

“Look, Harry… I may be younger than you, but I’ve been in this industry longer than you or Florence.” Y/N stood and shrugged before crossing her arms. “And the thing is – I don’t care for shit like that. So, you two can gossip and whisper and talk whatever you want about me behind my back. Everyone else is doing that so, you’re not that special. But’ I’d prefer if you did it somewhere else besides my room, my space, and I’ll say this once, but very clearly – we’re not friends. I don’t need friends like you. We’ll be civil and we’ll do our jobs, but…” Harry’s heart broke at her eyes, seeing the pain in them as she nodded and made sure he understood where she stood. “We’re not friends.”

She didn’t leave any room for argument. When Harry left, Y/N didn’t even look over her shoulder to see him exit.

The next couple of mornings she didn’t see them leave nor come back, seeing as Y/N had the week off from filming, but the morning of the seventh day was awkward as hell, given how all of them had to go and get tested, and well, they had their allocated time slots one after the other. Usually, they’d take one car together, but this time, Y/N drove off on her own, while Harry and Florence carpooled on their own.

The tests were always nerve-wracking. If one person went down, the whole production did for at least two weeks. And as much as she hated going in alone, she was glad no one was with her in the car, because as she stepped out, a certain notion swept over her that this would be a lot different than usual.

A doctor dressed head to toe in protective gear motioned for her to sit down, as another processed her ID and work ID. Her leg was bouncing up and down the whole time, and he eyed her. If she could see his lips, she was sure they’d be pursed. “Anything wrong?” He handed her back the IDs before moving to the table where a set of large q-tips seemed to lay in sterile packs.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip and nodded. “Woke up with a sore throat and a small cough appeared on my way here as well. I wiped and cleaned everything down at the apartment I’m staying at and wore gloves and a mask the whole time.”

“Anything else?” the doctor asked, writing down each word as Y/N said. “The feeling of breaking bones, fever, muscle pain, eyes hurting when you look up, lost sense of smell or taste?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a sore throat and a small cough.”

The doctor let out a large sigh, probably from having to wear a full-on hazmat suit. “Alright. Just for safety reasons, so we know who’s a potential contact person, who are you staying with?”

“Florence Pugh and Harry Styles. We’re renting an apartment together.”

“Do you know if they’ve had any symptoms?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head honestly. “And I haven’t really interacted with them this past week, as they’ve been on set, and I didn’t have any scenes to film, and by the time they get back, I’m already asleep, and I’m still asleep when they leave so there’s been no direct contact. We have our own kitchenware, so there shouldn’t be any direct contact. I think.”

That last bit was half-true, seeing as she hadn’t been asleep when they came back, but she might as well have been. The second Y/N heard the door click, she’d place her headphones on or leave the room, only glimpsing the two faces falling as she did that.

The doctor clearing his throat and motioning for Y/N to open her mouth so he could take a swab and then to do the same for both her nostrils, was what brought her out of it. She was so used to it, it was like nothing at that point. “Okay. We’ll need you to stay in the car while the test is being run, and if it comes back positive, you’ll be placed in a separate flat, as to not endanger the rest.”

Her ‘alright’ was barely audible. Fuck. It just felt like the universe was against her. First, the two people she’d gotten closest to were whispering behind her back and being fake to her face, now she might have a super contagious virus to which there was no medicine really, nor was there a vaccine, let alone the thought she’d have to miss filming for potentially more than two weeks.

The thirty minutes of wait were agonizing, her leg bouncing up and down. Y/N’s eyes kept watching the line of cars slowly move forward through the tent and then settle behind hers. She knew Harry was about five cars away, and she was glad he wasn’t closer. They weren’t really allowed to get out of their vehicles while the tests were being run, and Y/N didn’t think she’d be able to not look back at him through her review mirror.

Two more minutes passed when finally, one of the med students in the full hazmat suit came up and knocked on her car window.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“ID please.” It was standard so that no med info got leaked. The only reason she had to rummage through her stuff was, because she’d bite the little plastic card in half if she didn’t throw it somewhere deep inside her bag.

“So.” The man sighed, and he didn’t need to elaborate. Y/N understood, but still, he had to confirm it to her. “Your test came back positive for COVID-19. The production has been informed, and for safety reasons, everyone will have to self-isolate for two weeks.”

Y/N’s head slammed against the back of the seat. “Fuck. Okay.”

“Because so far, you’re the only positive case, you’ll be placed into quarantine. We’ll need the address you’re staying at, and if you need anything from your apartment, we can send someone over to grab a few things. You’ll have to follow the black SUV right there.” He pointed further down the lot where indeed a black SUV stood. “They’ll take you to where the quarantine apartments are. Is there anything immediate you’ll need?”

“I – uh – I need my pills, my birth control that is. I take it every evening. Computer, chargers. That’s the most immediate I can think of. Maybe some food? I didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast.”

Even through the mask, Y/N could see the man smile. “Well arrange that. In the meantime, here’s the number for the coordinators who’ll get you the rest of your things and deliver them to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll call my assistant, and she’ll drive down to the apartment. She knows where everything is.”

“Have you been in close contact with her?”

“Just through the phone. She hasn’t been on set in almost a month, as I told her only to come when it’s an emergency… Guess this is it.” Y/N let out an awkward chuckle.

And truly that was it. With one last motion as to where the SUV stood, she started back up the engine, reversed out of the spot and followed the car to where the ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ production had set up a few quarantine apartments, specifically for actors and crew, speed-dialling her assistant Anna and letting her know of the situation.

“Shit, girl,” she’d cursed. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay,” Anna huffed. “Do you have a spare key for the apartment by any case or do I need to go down to the lot and ask Harry or Florence?”

“Both of them will be at the apartment, given how everything’s shut down, so they should be able to open the door for you. Hopefully, if both of them are negative. If not, call me, I’ll tell you where we hide the spare. Thank you, Anna.”

“Of course.”

As Y/N pulled up behind the SUV, a man and a woman in face guards and masks stepped out. She ended the call and stepped out as well, pulling on a cloth face mask, an envelope in their hands, which they handed to her.

“Your flat’s on the third floor, 367. When you have the list of things you need, forward them to us, and we’ll gather your things.”

Y/N nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

With a sigh, she took her bag and entered the complex. As much as she’d only had a small cough in the morning and a sore throat, walking up those flights of stairs made her winded more than it usually would. Maybe it was the knowledge she had a sickness, or maybe it was stress about missing work and putting everyone on lockdown, or maybe it was the combination of it all with her falling out with Harry and Florence on top.

She placed the key in the lock and twisted, revealing a studio type apartment, and it was so bare it made her heart clench. As much as she felt awkward being around Florence and Harry, their flat was a bit messy, had little pieces of clothing thrown around, giant knitted blankets on the sofas, a candle always lit whenever someone was home. Harry’s shoes were typically all over the place while Y/N’s make up was scattered around everywhere. Literally. Florence and Harry had gotten back early one morning from a night shoot and found her looking under the sofas for one of her lash glues as she started to get ready for the day. They’d made that flat their home for the time being. This… this was nothing like that.

She threw the keys on the small kitchen counter and shrugged off her jacket. They was going to be a long two weeks. At best.

***

Back at their place, Florence and Harry were pacing around, having heard the news that someone was positive, and everything had to shut down for the time being, yet Y/N was nowhere to be seen when a knock at the door disrupted them.

Harry was there and flinging it open in a matter of a second, only to be stopped by Anna instead of Y/N.

“Hey.” His brows furrowed as she and two people all wearing masks and gloves entered. “What’s going on? Is Y/N alright?”

Anna sighed, nodding her head for the two strangers to go towards the woman’s room. “She was the one who tested positive for the virus. Gave me a list of the things she’d need while in quarantine. We’re here to pick ‘em up and get them to her.”

“And she’s not doing that here?”

“Per the safety instructions, she’s been placed in a separate flat in self-isolation.”

“She could’ve done that here. We’d be fine with it,” Florence butted in, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re more than willing to take care of her. She’ll need someone to help her.”

“You both tested negative.” One of the people piped up, carrying a box of books and yarn. “I’m sorry, but she’ll have to quarantine separately until she’s no longer infected. She’s under the supervision of doctors, and she knows if an emergency happens, they’ll be there in ten minutes tops. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

Harry sighed, nodding as the people exited their place, but before Anna could leave, he took hold of her bicep. “Hey, can you please tell her to call me? I just wanna talk.”

“I uh – ” Anna furrowed her brows, showing Harry that Y/N hadn’t said anything to her about the falling out they’d had. “I’ll uh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

With that he was left to close the door and just wait for… anything.

***

In the two hours Y/N had spent in the apartment, she already felt like going insane, having been left alone with her thoughts, so how she was going to do another two weeks after finally getting back into the rhythm of work was beyond her. She didn’t have any of her knitting supplies, didn’t have any of her books (yet), and most likely there was no reason to look at her script anymore, as she’d made up her mind about a lot of things.

There was a knock at the door, and Y/N instantly had a mask on her face and gloves on her hands. She peeped through the peephole and when she saw boxes lined in the hallway, three people in masks and faceguards at least six feet away, only then did she open the door and give them a wave.

“Everything should be here, but if you need anything else just pop me a message.” Anna then pointed at a bag that sat atop everything. “There are the most important things, so you don’t have to rummage through everything and a pizza is on the way while I do some grocery shopping for you. And umm, there’s a paper you need to sing that you know you need to be in self-isolation and that you understand what happens if you’re not.”

Y/N hoped all of them understood she was smiling underneath the mask, grateful for having them help her out like that. “Thank you. So much.”

She rushed inside found a pen and signed it, moving between the boxes to place the papers on the stairs so that they could be safely retrieved. With that, the two assigned people left, leaving Anna to say goodbye.

“Call me.” She pointed at Y/N. “No matter what, even if you just wanna talk for five seconds.”

“Will do.” Y/N nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “If I could, I’d hug you.”

Anna sighed, cocking her head. “Same. And umm, Harry told me to ask you to call him.”

“Yeah, uh thank you.” She knew he probably wanted to talk, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but it still made her stumble on her words. “Take care, Anna.”

“You too.”

***

The next two days Y/N spent worrying as to how to present her decisions to the cast and crew. She felt worse with every hour, and with that had come her thought process, but as much as everyone was going to be impacted by what she was going to do, Olivia would be the one dealing with it most, so later that night she hopped on a Zoom call with her director.

“Hey, girl.” Olivia gave her a warm smile, and Y/N almost melted. God, she loved that woman. She was like the older sister she never had. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. Feelin’ kind of woozy from time to time, throat’s killing me, and I’m fairly certain I’m getting abs from how much I’m coughing.” That made both of them chuckle before Y/N bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. “Look,” she sighed, looking at Olivia. “The reason I called you is that umm… well, I think it’d be a lot more cost-effective for you to re-cast me. We’ve barely shot one scene with me. I’ll be out of commission for two weeks, as a minimum. It could get worse. And I’m definitely not going to be back before I get two negative consecutive tests.”

Olivia shook her head, running down her hands over her face and then through her hair. “Y/N, I really don’t want to do this. There’s a reason we cast you. You’re amazing, and yours and Harry’s chemistry is off the charts. We’re all quarantining for two weeks, and I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time, back on set and killing it like you always do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course, I do! Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“All I’m saying it could take up to a month to get those two negative tests. By that point, you could’ve shot at least a fourth of my scenes. Olivia…” Y/N gave her a small, sad smile. “I know you know I’m right. I hate to pass on this, but I won’t hinder the production. If you want my input, I’ll help with the re-casting, if it takes the guilt away.”

“I still feel like shit this is an option we even have to consider.”

“’S not your fault. You didn’t get me sick. We should be happy it’s just me, not someone else or more than one person.”

***

For two more days, it was radio silence from Y/N, and Harry and Florence were anxious messes. If they could distract themselves from the falling out while on set, then now, having to be cooped up inside the apartment with pretty much nothing to do, was so much worse, not to mention Y/N declined all of their calls and left their messages on read, leaving the only option for checking in either through Anna or what she decided to share on her social media, which wasn’t a lot. But the thing was, Harry knew his best bet was to call Y/N in the middle of the night. Disorientated and barely awake, she probably wouldn’t look at the caller ID once. And he was right.

A bleary face appeared on his screen, eyes squinting as she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. “Hello?” Her voice was scratchy, and Harry’s heart clenched at just how much pain her throat must be in, let alone how she was feeling as a whole.

“Hey, there, lovie.”

It took her a second to comprehend the person who was speaking, and she’d be lying if she said hearing Harry’s voice didn’t bring her some sort of joy. “Hey, H. Are you alright? Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you.”

Y/N hummed, rolling on her side, and immediately regretting it as the action elicited a coughing fit. “Yeah?” she asked hoarsely. “ ’Nd what about me?”

‘How shitty I feel about everything’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m so fucking terrified’, but instead he asked, “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” Y/N croaked out before her body was racked with coughs once more. Harry’s own chest hurt just hearing them. “Fever’s finally down, so I’m getting some sort of sleep. Throat’s killing me though, and they’ve hooked me up to an IV. They’ll be coming in two hours or so to change the bag. How are you?” she asked quietly. “How’s Florence?”

“She’s alright. Upset. Just like I am.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Why’re you upset?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re sick, alone in quarantine and… and we can’t help you. I can’t help you.”

A genuine chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t know you had a medical degree, Styles. Could be my personal nurse. Fetch me my water and shit.”

“No, but at least I’d like to be there for you.”

“Harry…”

“I like you,” he said after taking a deep breath, hoping that the break he’d heard in Y/N’s voice as she’d said his name wasn’t just because of the sickness, but because her heart thudded just as fast as his when he thought of them together, that her mind reeled with the possibilities of where their futures could take them and that whenever they touched, she could feel the electricity that ran through his fingertips, igniting his whole body. “That’s what Florence and I were whispering about all the time. Is that I’m madly crushing on you, and I couldn’t gather the courage to say it to you.”

A strong coughing fit made her drop the phone on the bed and lean over, as she gasped for breath, and through it all, all Harry wanted was to be there. Fuck him possibly getting the virus, as long as he could make it easier for her in some way.

“ ’M sorry,” Y/N whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible as to not aggravate her throat. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologise. You’re sick, you can’t help –”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I assumed you and Florence were talking bad behind my back. I never should’ve done that. And this is not an excuse, I’m not trying to shift the blame from being in the wrong, but I like you too.” She gave him a shy grin that he thought was as bright as the sun. “I really like you too, Harry. I think that’s why it hurt so much to hear you two whispering ‘bout something. And thinking it was about me, and it was something bad, hurt even more, ‘cause I really connected with Flo, and I kinda, well I kind of fell for you. Hard.”

“You did?” His tone was like he didn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

“Yeah. A lot actually… I – I really like you, Harry.”

He couldn’t explain how his heart expanded in his chest while simultaneously was being crushed by his inability to help, by the distance between them, while the hope that glimmered in his eyes at Y/N’s words made her heart break as much as his was, when he asked, “So you won’t resign?”

“Harry,” Y/N made her voice as tough as it could sound with her condition. “I told them to re-cast me not because of you. I’ve been on enough sets and worked with enough pricks, and still gotten the job done. Genuinely, this is not because of you or Florence. I just – I just don’t want to hold up production. You’ll all be out in what – twelve days or something? I’ll be here for at least twice that, if everything goes the way it’s going right now.”

“I don’t want anyone else to play Larie. You are my Larie,” he muttered, which made Y/N smile, but in a true Y/N fashion she just wanted to make others feel better.

“You do know Jack murders Larie in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s mouth opened like a fishes’ while Y/N’s mouth pulled up in a grin. “That’s – that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

Both of them were laughing now, all tension having evaporated.

“I know.” She bit on her lower lip. “But um… we’ve gotta be practical. I sent Olivia my resignation letter already, and she signed.”

She saw Harry sigh and throw back his head at her words.

“ ’M sorry, Haz. I didn’t want to but –”

“I know.” His smile was gentle, understanding. “You always put everyone before yourself. God, this just sucks major ass.”

“Trust me,” Y/N started before being interrupted by another major coughing fit. “I –,” she took in a breath. “I know.”

Her heart cracked seeing Harry’s face and his green eyes, the eyes she’d gotten lost in more times than she’d ever admitted being lined by tears. “I wish I could help you.”

“But you are. Just by – by talking to me, by keeping my mind off things. You’re helping me more than you’ll ever know.”

“When you get out, I’m taking you on a date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. For the first time in a while, she felt good, despite being sick. “Is that a threat, Styles?”

“It’s a fucking promise.”

That night she fell asleep listening to Harry talking, seeing as it became harder and harder for her to do so, so he just took over, telling her stories that lulled her to dreamland where he was there, and she could touch him.

The following days she also had calls with Florence and the rest of her cast to explain the situation, but she wasn’t doing much talking anymore, and one night they’d even seen her almost throw up from coughing so much, which broke everyone’s hearts. They were lucky the only Covid case before Y/N had been a light one, so witnessing just how brutal it could be, made everyone appreciate what they had, but at the same time, feel as helpless as ever.

A week and a half in, that was when shit really hit the fan. Despite her feeling shitty the previous days, now Y/N woke up from the feeling as if she was drowning. She’d fallen asleep while talking with Harry on FaceTime, his features illuminated on her phone. At first, she thought it was just her dream still lingering and causing that effect, but when after a minute or so her lungs still remained on fire, she knew she had to dial the doctors.

In five minutes’ time, an ambulance was at her door, and it was a miracle she’d been able to get out of bed to open it because the second she did, her whole body pretty much collapsed into the arms of one of the nurses.

***

“Come on,” Harry muttered into the phone, pulling on a pair of trousers as quickly as possible and a knitted sweater he took from the floor as he immediately tried to redial her, having heard the call drop. “Come on! Pick up, Y/N!” Her voicemail answered instead.

“Damn it!”

It took Harry seven minutes with the way he was driving to get to her assigned isolation place, only to be greeted by red and blue flashing lights, an ambulance right in front of the entrance, and it took Harry five seconds to feel his heart drop as a team of three doctors wheeled out a gurney on which lay Y/N, face covered in a mask, an IV stuck inside her arm while a huge plastic cover domed over her body.

Without even thinking about himself or his safety, Harry jumped out of his car, rushing towards the ambulance.

“Sir.” One of the doctors extended a palm towards him, keeping him back as Harry tried to get towards the inside of the car. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

“Is that Y/N?” Harry felt like he was spinning out of control, and his mind was dizzy from not being able to take in a proper breath. “Is – is that Y/N?”

“Are you family?”

“I –,” Harry so desperately wanted to say yes, to say he was her boyfriend at least, but he couldn’t lie. “No, I’m just her collegue – friend! I’m her friend. Is she alright?”

“Okay, well is there anyone we can contact from her family?”

Harry nodded, knowing that her mum and dad were on her emergency contact lists. “But her family is out of the country, and they won’t be able to fly out with all the restrictions in place.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed before looking back inside the car. In a way, Harry was happy he couldn’t see Y/N because he was sure if he did, he’d completely break down and crumble to the ground. “We’ll contact her parents, but if you could leave us your number as an emergency contact on place that’d be a lot of help.”

“Okay, uh…” Harry took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and then let it out before reciting the number he used while in the USA and his permanent UK number as well, so he could be reachable anywhere and at any point in day or night, no matter the time.

“Well keep you up to date.”

And with that, the ambulance doors shut, and they rushed away, the vailing of sirens echoing in the dark night, leaving Harry with a hand in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and without a clue as to what to do.

***

In the end, Harry had gone back to his car and cried for what felt like ages, but instead, it was just twenty minutes. He pulled himself together but was still shaking as he made his way back to the flat where Florence basically ripped open the door. Seeing his face told her everything she needed to know.

“She’ll be alright,” the woman muttered as she soothed Harry by rubbing a palm up and down his back, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. “It’s Y/N. She’d pull through an atomic bomb.”

They spent the rest of the night and the following day on the couch, glued to Harry’s phone waiting for any sort of updates. From time to time a text message came from the hospital letting them know what procedures were being done on Y/N, that her parents have been informed, and if necessary, they’d allowed Harry to be the main contact person because of his proximity to their daughter.

Three days later and the quarantine for the rest of the cast and crew ended, yet when they returned to the set, everyone was in low spirits. Especially, Harry – he was miserable. Every moment spent not reciting lines or acting was occupied with the thoughts of Y/N, how she was doing, was she improving, was she still breathing, how he wanted to just ditch everything and run to her, to help in whatever way he could.

“This sucks,” Florence grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as they took a break while re-setting already in for the fifth day of filming, eight since Y/N’d been in the hospital. “Can’t believe they won’t allow a phone in with her.”

“It’s the same policy for everyone, but trust me,” Harry sighed and looked up at the bright blue sunny sky above. “The number of times I got out of my bed in the middle of the night and had the car keys in hand is ridiculous. And the number of times I’ve thought about breaking into that hospital is even more concerning.”

Florence let out a small chuckle and nudged his shoulder. “I’d cover for you if you did. As long as she doesn’t have to be there alone.” She hung her head, blond strands falling down to curtain her face. “Can’t imagine how scared she must be.”

Harry just sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could say.

Something vibrated in his pocket, but he no longer furrowed his brows when unknown numbers called, knowing it was from the hospital. It was nerve-wracking though to pick up the call each time because he had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of bad news, even though he always hoped for good ones.

“Yes, hi. Hello. I – oh,” he put a hand over his mouth and sagged down onto a chair. “Oh, thank god, thank you, doctor. Yeah. Yes, I’ll let her know, and someone will be there to open the flat. Thank you again. For everything.”

He took away the phone from his ear and stared at the ground for a minute before leaping up and hugging Florence, laughter escaping his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s the opposite. Y/N’s out of the hospital.”

“Oh thank god!” Her hands flew to hug him back.

“She’ll have to stay in self-isolation until the two negative tests and will be monitored by the doctors, but she’s out.”

Immediately he was dialling her, and Harry had never been as happy for the invention of a video call, because when he saw Y/N’s face light up the screen, as tired as she looked, it was the most beautiful sight that graced his eyes.

“Hey, lovie.” His voice was soft and low as if anything louder would worsen her state.

Her ‘hey’ was barely audible, but he heard it, and it made the weight of a boulder drop off his shoulders.

“I’m so – I mean we all are so happy you’re back home.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I missed you. Missed everyone, but most of all I missed you.”

Harry was happy they were separated by a screen because if she was anywhere in a five-mile radius, he was sure she would be able to hear his heart beat out of his ribcage at her words. “How are you feeling?”

“ ‘M alright,” Y/N tried to let him know. “Very tired.”

“Then get back to sleep, lovie.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wanna talk to you.”

“I’ll keep talking,” Harry promised. “Like we did before, okay.”

“Okay…”

And so, he did. He kept talking as Y/N listened, and he watched as her eyes slowly closed before she drifted off to sleep. Even though Harry had to go back to filming, he didn’t dare end the call. He’d never end the call.

***

It took a month and a half for Y/N to get those two consecutive negative tests, to feel somewhat human again and when she did, she probably garnered at least seven speeding tickets with how fast she was driving down to the set.

It was the most inconspicuous outfit she could scramble together, consisting of a hoodie and baseball cap, as she watched Harry as Jack lean down to peck the actress’s lips, then step into the vintage car and rev out in the driveway, while a dishevelled Florence started the scene from the side, eyes racking over Jack’s first wife, who was dressed the exact same way, hair styled like hers and even nails painted the same, her character putting all the puzzle pieces together.

“And cut!” Olivia yelled across the lot, nudging Y/N’s side and giving her a smirk. “He’s gonna freak. You’re all he’s been talking about on set. We almost had to put a ban on you as a topic,” she muttered that part so only the woman could hear while telling everyone to re-set, so they could do the scene from another angle, but not before asking the three actors to come and look at the monitors so they could understand how to move in order to keep the continuity.

Y/N moved to the side, ducking her head down as Harry, Florence and Mandy, the actress that took over her role, all leaned closer to watch the monitors. Y/N had to bite on her lip to keep the grin away, as all of them analysed their movements and the scene, nodding along to what Olivia was saying.

“Y/L/N, what do you think?” Olivia asked, grinning.

Y/N stepped forward a bit, seeing all of their shocked faces through her peripheral, as she pointed to the screen, lifting her head so that everyone could see her face fully. “I think it’s great, you might want to step to the side a bit more, Harry, when –” but she was unable to finish the sentence as he swooped her in his arms, lifting her basically off the ground, and burying his face in her neck.

“Watch the hair! Daniele will have a fit if you ruin her masterpiece!” Y/N laughed, holding one of her hands on the base of his neck, the other tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but he just shook his head, and she could feel tears splash her skin.

“Fuck the hair!” He let out a small chuckle, and she could hear the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you so much. I was so scared.”

“Same,” Y/N whispered. “Missed you like crazy. And your stupid, unfunny dad jokes.”

“ ‘M hilarious, lovie, what are you talking about?”

He finally set her down but didn’t let go of her waist, and she smiled cupping his cheeks. “A true comedian, that’s what you are.”

“I know. Why’dya think I got that SNL slot?”

But his eyes, as he gazed into hers once more glassed over.

“Hey,” Y/N cooed wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and we’re both gonna be crying messes, and then these guys will have to deal with that.”

Harry sighed, leaning into her touch. “Happy tears, lovie. All happy tears.”

The two looked at one another as if there was no one else in the universe. And for the two of them, there really wasn’t. Neither had to say what was on their minds, they already knew.

His face was inching closer to Y/N’s, and heart started to beat erratically, not that Harry minded, as his palm rested in the middle of her back. In fact, his own heart mimicked the rhythm, but it stuttered when someone behind him cleared their throat and interrupted their moment.

Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest as he sighed at Olivia’s raised eyebrow.

“You’ll be able to smooch as much as you want, but we need him in hair and make-up.”

“Oli-“

“Now,” she let out a small laugh. “Before Daniele removes my head from my shoulders.”

“Go,” Y/N patted his side. “I’ll still be here.”

“Is that a threat?”

She grinned up at him. “A fucking promise.”

Harry dashed away like lightning, hoping that the quicker he was done, the sooner he could have Y/N back in his arms even if it was for a second, but her attention was taken by a woman with long blond curls, a flowing green slip on her figure; her steps unsure as was the wave she gave her, but Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of her.

“Hey, Flo,” she whispered and brought the girl in a bone-crushing hug, holding onto her, trying to convey how much she regretted her words and actions, especially because they were unwarranted.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

“Me too.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“And I should’ve made sure Harry pulled his head out of his ass.”

That made both of them laugh, and it was nice to do it not only without having to cough up her insides, but to do it with someone she’d connected with and had become great friends with.

“He did that. I just hope if he wants to make another move, it won’t take me dying to push him to.”

Florence pointed at her, a serious look on her face. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.”

A small noise of someone clearing their throat from behind Y/N took both of their attentions for them to go onto the actress who’d been cast as her replacement, the woman coming forward and extending her hand for a handshake with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Mandy.”

“ ‘S very nice to meet you.” Y/N tried to give off as open and accepting of a vibe as much as possible, because she genuinely wanted Mandy to feel respected and that she wasn’t a threat. “Before you think anything if you’re worried about me taking the role, don’t. It’s all yours, so don’t worry about that. I just stopped by ‘cause I hadn’t seen anyone in almost two months. Never thought I’d say this, but fuck did I missed people.”

Mandy shook her head, her smile a lot lighter and brighter now. “I – uh thank you for that actually. I’m a huge fan of yours, and well, can only try and live up to what you would’ve portrayed.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll absolutely kill it, and I can’t wait for the movie.”

It was great to see Mandy’s shoulders drop in relief. “Would it be too much if I asked for advice on the role?”

“No,” Y/N laughed. “But I would say that you should make this role your own. It is yours. You are Larie now. And Harry’s Jack. Make it yours.”

As she said that, she turned to watch Harry who was practically bouncing on his feet, green eyes flitting back to where she was standing, and when their gazes met, neither could help the smiles blooming on their faces.

“You know he messed up a scene once and said your name?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked over at Mandy. “What do you mean ‘said my name’?”

“It was a kissing scene. The wedding bit, actually. As Jack and Larie recited their vows, and he leans down to kiss her, he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll love you Larie, until the very end’. He said your name instead.”

That hit Y/N more than a semi-truck wheeling a ton of bricks would. Yes, she knew Harry liked her, and he knew she liked him, but love was a big word, and for him to admit that, whether it was a flub or not, was even bigger.

Harry was a private person. While he openly talked about what he felt, he guarded heart at the same time, much like Y/N did. But she had to wait until Olivia yelled cut for the day, and had to watch him make a mad dash for hair and make-up before running to the dressing trailer as he didn’t want to miss out on a second he could spend with her. Even as they walked up to their shared flat and he opened the door, his fingers stayed intertwined with hers.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Kinda shitty, honestly,” Y/N laughed throwing the keys to the table and shrugging out of the jacket and taking off the cap, Harry immediately helping her and putting it on one of the racks. “I’ll have to move out, now that I’m not part of the movie.”

“Why? ‘S not like the production is paying our rent, we’re doing it out of our own pocket.”

“Yes, but now that I don’t have a job, I kinda need to look for one.”

“And what says that you can’t live here while you do that?”

“I –,” Y/N’s brows furrowed. “I mean nothing, really… I just… kinda thought because I’m not part of the movie anymore it’d be safer if I found my own place. But um… I think I have something else I’d like to talk about. Mandy,” Y/N dragged out her name a bit, a sly smirk appearing on her face, “told me you had a flub on set.”

Harry’s heart was pounding underneath her palm where she’d grabbed onto the lapels of his dress shirt, so he couldn’t run away.

“I’ve uh,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a couple of flubs on set. Who hasn’t?”

“I don’t doubt that. But she said you misspoke a name.”

She made him look into her eyes and wouldn’t dare let their gaze break. “You said my name during the wedding scene. You said Y/N. Not Larie.”

Harry looked like a cross between a deer in headlights and a fish out of the water, eyes wide with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out, which made Y/N worry a bit.

She placed a palm against his cheek. “Harry? You alright?”

“I – I meant it.” He let out a deep sigh and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. “And when I thought back on it, I don’t remember seeing her face or Larie’s face. It was yours. And the lips I was kissing belonged to you too. I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine. And I know it’s way too quick, for a wedding -”

“Unless you threaten me with it –”

“I –,” Harry stuttered before laughing, all tension evaporating from his body. “No, that I don’t want to be a threat. That will be a question asked with love and hopefully an answer given to it the same way.”

Y/N nudged his nose with hers. “Well, we’ll see. I mean if you don’t kiss me what makes you th–,”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before his lips were on hers, pressing with such gentleness, it made her weak at the knees, and she would’ve crumbled if Harry’s arms handn’t woven around her middle, fingers pressing into the sides, the pressure increasing with each second their mouths were connected.

Harry’s hand drifted up Y/N’s back and settled on her neck as if he could pull her any closer, her own palms slipping over his stomach, pecks and grabbing onto his jaw, fingers lightly scratching at the stubble that’d grown throughout the day. He had to shave every morning for the role of Jack, but each evening she’d see a small, darkened shadow across his skin, and Y/N would be lying that when she’d realised her attraction to him, she hadn’t thought about how delicious it would feel to have it leave small burn marks on the inside of her thighs.

Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs, trying to create some sort of friction which became more and more unbearable as she felt Harry moan into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her lower lip, asking for permission without words, which Y/N granted without a second to spare.

It was heavenly to have him so close to her. She did wonder if the sensation was intensified by the fact, she hadn’t been able to touch anyone properly for almost two months, but that thought vanished when his fingers skimmed underneath her hoodie, brushing against her heated skin. No. It was because it was Harry.

“I –,” he was breathless as he pulled away, but Y/N didn’t let him get too far, her lips attaching themselves to his neck, making him groan in pleasure. “I don’t want to push this too far.”

Her brows scrunched up, as she took a look at him. “What do you mean? If you think I don’t want this, then let me be perfectly clear – I do. A lot.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking glad you do, but… Y/N you just got out of the hospital, where you were on a ventilator. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Not your choice to make.” A devious smile appeared on her face, as she stepped a few feet away and lifted her hoodie over her head, making Harry inhale sharply. “So here are your two options.” Her hands went behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slowly drop to the floor, the green eyes that hadn’t left her now wide as saucers. “Number one.” She toed off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. “We can stop this, obviously, just say the word, and I get to my room, start packing and looking for a new place. We can have some dinner and just chill. Or number two.” Y/N hooked her jeans behind her thumbs and slowly dragged them down her legs, revealing more and more of herself to Harry. “We can go inside your room and make up for the lost time. In every position imaginable, for as long as you want. But.” Y/N’s eyes glimmered with mischief as she made her way to Harry’s room. “I don’t think you wanna take the first option.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning it from the meticulously gelled hairstyle into a mop of messy strands. “You know you’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman.”

Y/N swayed her hips a bit more as she took another step closer to his room, the door meeting her back, and one of her hands went to the doorknob, pressing down on it. “Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss before the first date, and definitely not like that.”

He stood there, hands on his hips, eyes not leaving her body, as she cocked her head. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

They were ten torturous seconds for both, hearts beating out of their chests, but it only took three steps for Harry to cross the hallway, his hand sneaking behind Y/N’s back and pressing down on the doorknob as well, revealing the inside of his room. It was messy, much like her own, but it wouldn’t take too much to rip all off the tossed around bedding leaving a whole bed to themselves.

“You. Are. The. Devil.”

Her smile was nothing short of wicked. “I mean you can listen to the angel on your shoulder.”

“I’d rather listen to you.”

Together they stepped inside, and Y/N nodded. “Making good choices already.”

“Can’t get on your bad side, can I now?”

“I mean you can.” Her legs hit the back of his bed and she fell down on it, Harry leaning over, resting his elbows next to her head. “But bad boys get punished.”

His nose skimmed over hers. Now he was the one smiling like a devil. “I’ll hold you to your word. For future reference, that is.”

That kiss was nothing like their first. This was messy, and passionate, all tongue and teeth, hands grabbing everywhere possible to get the other unclothed. Or at least that’s what Y/N was trying to do, seeing as she was pretty much naked already, and Harry was the one still wearing too much.

Her hands pretty much ripped open the shirt. It one of his expensive Gucci ones, she was quite certain of it, but it didn’t seem like he cared, as he shrugged it off, throwing it to land somewhere on the floor.

Y/N sighed into his mouth as her hands were now freely allowed to run over his chest, over the ink embedded into his skin, over taut muscles that relaxed under her touch, and dig into his sides in an attempt to leave her own marks on him, much like he was going to do to her.

“Think you can take your pants off? It’s only fair.” Y/N muttered into his mouth and his own travelled down to her cheek, then neck and to her chest.

“You mean my trousers?”

Her lips quirked up and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, in this case, I meant pants the British way.”

“And if I’m going commando?”

Y/N pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. “You had nothing underneath all day on set?”

“No! I wouldn’t subject the dressing department to that. But underneath this.” He looked down at his jeans and smiled at her. “I do have nothing.”

“Well then? Get on with it!”

Both of them were giggling, as Y/N tried to unbuckle Harry’s belt, his own fingers mixing with hers as he went for the zipper and the button. He nudged his head towards her. “Your socks and pants come off as well. Or we’ll be unevenly matched.”

Y/N lifted her eyebrow, as she went for her own remaining pieces of clothing. “No socks during sex?”

“No, what kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”

“And if my feet get cold?” She threw them away somewhere.

“We have a blanket.”

As Harry removed his jeans and his own socks, Y/N slipped off the dampened piece of clothing that’d been on her, now both of them completely naked.

“Alright.” He leaned over her again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling them chest to chest. “Happy now?”

Y/N deeply kissed him. “Very. But I think we can make each other even happier.”

“Agreed,” Harry hummed. “Wanna get a taste first.” He attached his lips to her collarbones sucking a bruise there. “Can I?”

She groaned at the feeling, knowing there be a pleasant ache that accompanied mark. “You can. Don’t have to, if you don’t want. No need to do this for me.”

“And if it’s for me?” Harry was moving lower and lower with each word, wet tongue flicking against a perked bud, and making Y/N gasp. “What if I wanna feel you cum on my tongue, and what if I wanna do something I’ve dreamed about for months now?”

His hands were kneading her breasts, mouth having left a trail of kisses down the middle of her stomach as it was moving towards where an ache that’d been left untreated made itself more and more prominent.

“Then please, please, please do something, Harry.”

“With pleasure.”

Luckily for Y/N, she didn’t have to beg any more, as his mouth attached itself to where she wanted him most, tongue sweeping past her lower lips and licking up a broad, steady stripe.

One of her hands went to fist into her hair and the other into Harry’s. “Shit,” she moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Guide me.” He licked a circle around her clit. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Mhgm, fuck, okay,” Y/N breathed out. “I – I mean you’re doing great on your own.” Her chest was heaving as if she was running a marathon, and Harry shifted her legs so that they lay over his shoulders. “But umm, like if you lick around my clit, but like really press down li – oh, fuuuuck, just like that.”

The coil in her stomach tightened with each pass he did, just like Y/N had instructed, small tight circles just how she did with her fingers, only what took her sometimes half an hour, Harry managed to do in less than ten minutes, to have her toes curling and hands grasping anywhere they could find purchase to just keep onto something real.

The vibrations from Harry humming sent shivers straight to her core. “What else, lovie? What else, do you like?”

“If – if –,” Y/N panted, “if you suck on it, but like – fuck – shit! If you kinda keep a seal around my clit, that fuck! Yes!”

The way Harry was eating her out was almost sensational, but what made it even better wasn’t that he just decided to do something and assumed, she’d like it, he asked, he wanted to learn and discover what made her tick and turn, or in this case – cum.

“Harry, ‘m close,” Y/N warned him, feeling the warmth slowly start to spread all throughout her body.

“I’ll get you there.”

He let his lips go for a moment before slipping two of his fingers so that they pinched her clit and moved them slowly but tightly up and down it, while his tongue went to slip inside her hole, and that did it for her.

With a gasp of air, Y/N’s eyes rolled to be back of her head, hips lifting up as euphoria exploded through her veins. Her mind went completely dizzy, and she was quite sure some drool also dribbled down the side of her mouth because she’d lost all ability to function.

“ -o me, love,” Y/N heard as if through a fog, and then felt two soothing palms running up and down her legs. “Come back, love. There you go.”

A drunken smile bloomed on her face, and she ran a hand down it, the same hand that’d grabbed Harry’s hair like a vice. “Fuck. You’re good, you know what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you enjoyed yourself because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

She watched as he straightened out to sit on his knees, her legs still over his shoulders, cock slapping against his stomach, and when she looked down there was a wet patch on his side of the sheets, a sly grin morphing on her face. “You liked eating me out so much you came yourself?”

“What can I say – bringing pleasure, gives me pleasure. And your cunt’s probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. But… do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked, kissing the inside of Y/N’s thighs and watching as she vigorously nodded her head, but he just smirked. “I think I need to test it out. Just to make sure.”

“Harry,” Y/N whined as she felt his fingers skim the apex of her thighs, teasing her.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

With that, he used one of his hands to open up her lips, his thumb pressing down on her already sensitive clit, eliciting a gasp before he allowed two fingers to skim her entrance and then slipped in.

“Still so tight,” he said, watching as Y/N sighed and her mouth fell open, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Told you needed to check if you were ready. What kind of a gentleman would I be now, if I didn’t make sure you could take it?”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “I can take you.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Harry left kisses along her leg, as he continued on with his movements, noting how her hips slowly started to grind down on his palm, so he pushed his fingers in deeper so that the heel of his hand could rest against her clit, making the pleasure intensify. “But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you when all I wanna do is give you pleasure. And you weren’t stretched out enough. Not yet at least.”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Y/N groaned, one arm thrown over her eyes as his fingers hit just the right spot.

“That’s it? Right there?”

“Yes, right there,” she moaned. “Just. Fuck! Just don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Yes, just – just curl your fingers and twist them a bit more.”

And much like the first time, a couple more times was all it took. Her orgasm was even more powerful than the previous and fully knocked her breath out of her lungs. Her legs fell open around his shoulders, stomach and chest spasming from the intensity.

Gentle fingers skimmed up and down Y/N’s arms and featherlight kisses fluttered over her breasts, then chest, neck and finally were peppered across her cheeks.

“Kinda spaced out on me there. You alright? Not too much?”

“ ’M – I’m good. But I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N leaned her head to the side so she could press a kiss against the closest of the swallow tattoos. “Hopefully not. I still wanna take you out on that date.”

Her eyes landed on Harry’s left hand’s ring finger, where a golden band still laid.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted the digits, still covered in her cum before pushing them past his lips and licking them clean. “Forgot to remove it. Hope the prop guys don’t kill me.”

She hated how his eyes sparkled, absolutely knowing what that sight did to her, how it made her stomach flutter and heart thunder against her ribs. Y/N was sure with the force it was pounding, they’d crack.

“Well, if they don’t, I will.” She pulled him down, nails raking on his skin, dragging to rest on his ass as they bit into it. “Now get inside me.”

“Condom.”

“No, ‘m on the pill.”

“I’m clean, I swear, but it’s still not a hundred per cent safe.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’ll buy the morning-after pill. Just need you inside.”

“You sure?” Harry placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. I mean I’m clean, and uh… I just wanna feel you.”

He’d cum once already, and Harry would be dammed if he did it again before having the chance to know how heaven feels like. As gently as possible, he took himself, giving a few strokes before nudging the tip against Y/N’s clit, her sharp inhale stalling him until she nodded.

Her nails dug into his biceps, as he finally slipped inside her, making both of them moan at the feeling. Even with all of the stretching out he’d done with his fingers, and the two orgasms he’d drawn from her, the slickness helping everything to be easy and smooth, Y/N still felt a little sting.

Harry’s head dropped to Y/N’s shoulders and even from under him, she could feel his thighs and stomach shaking, as he tried to hold his composure and give her a little bit of time to adjust.

A couple of deep breaths later, she tapped his ribs. “You can move now.”

“ ‘ya sure?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded her head and pecked his lips reassuringly. “Please.”

His dishevelled and sweaty hair shook as he nodded and slowly drew back his hips so that just the tip of his cock remained in her before gliding back inside. The sight alone was more than enough to make both of them explode, but they wanted to last longer than thirty seconds, especially for their first time together. There’d be quickies for later, now they wanted to have a proper shag.

Bit by bit, Harry’s pace quickened, pearls of sweat gliding down his skin and dampening the sheets below them, much like it was with Y/N. Her leg slid up to rest around his hips, giving him a better angle and more leverage for him to strike the right spot, as he pushed her knee to rest against her chest, Y/N’s head falling back to the pillow.

Her insides were shaking from the pleasure, and it was like an invisible force was pushing down on her chest, as she struggled for a proper breath. “Harry,” she dragged out his name, the word turning into a high-pitched whine.

“I know,” he responded in the same breathless voice. He could feel her tighten around him and wasn’t sure just how much longer he’d be able to keep up the pace. “Touch yourself ‘f me, lovie. C’mon, use those fingers.”

Y/N did as she was told. It didn’t give her that butterfly feeling like it’d happened when they’d been Harry’s, but it did make her cum faster, and the sensation of her gushing around his cock made him lose all self-control and he spilled inside.

It wasn’t enough for Y/N, but she guessed she needed to settle for it. She knew that nothing really ever touched in the universe, that the closest atoms ever come to touching one another is when their wave packets overlap, much like she and Harry were now overlapping, his body lying on top of hers, skin sweaty and frame trembling as he came down from his own high.

“I uh,” Y/N cleared her throat, finger tracing the outline of one of the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest. “When the people came to get my stuff, I umm, asked them to take your rainbow cardigan. Wanted something that smelled like you, so I didn’t feel so alone. Was the first thing I put on when I got out of my hospital gown.”

She felt his body rumble with laughter and a kiss being pressed to her forehead. “I know. Saw Anna stash it inside the suitcase. I uh, I was the one who also put in one of my sweaters. Know how cold you always get.”

She hid her smile against his collarbones. “Thank you. For thinking of me.”

“ 'M always thinking of you… Will you knit me one though?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “Knit you one?”

“Yes. I know you knit –“

“Everyone knits nowadays.”

Harry drew himself back a bit, and she pushed away the matted down strands from his forehead, wiping away the sweat from underneath his green eyes as well. “Yes, but the point is – there’ll be a million other Gucci shirts and sweaters and cardigans. But I’d like to have one-of-a-kind made by you. So, I have something to sleep next to when you’re not next to me.”

Y/N ran a finger along his jawline, biting away her grin. “It’ll probably have mistakes. I’m not that good at it. ‘M not a professional.”

“Exactly.” Harry tilted her head up with a finger and their eyes met. “Which is why it’ll be perfect.”

“The arms will most likely be different lengths in the end.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He pecked her lips before hugging her and not letting go. “It’s flawless for me.”

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

"you're still blushing," x damon albarn

I haven't written something for damon in ages so here you all go <333

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.214

༉‧₊˚✧

Having a roommate was always helpful for when you needed to cut the cost of rent, and to have company with someone that you got along with since you either were not far into relationships to be able to move in with a significant other, or you weren’t in a one - in which by having a roommate, made things less lonely. Me and Damon had known each other for quite some time now as Graham introduced us since Damon was looking for a flatmate at a time where, for some reason everybody seemed as though they were already occupied with people they were living with and sharing rent. Perhaps he was a little too late looking into it, but when Damon and I met, it was practically a match made in heaven. Though he wasn’t the first person I’d want to share a flat with, as I had no idea who he even was, just that he was best friends with somebody I was also friends with, he was perhaps, as oddly as it sounds, the best choice for a stranger to share a flat with. We had been living together since his band was working on their debut album, Leisure, and since then we had developed a very close relationship with one another. We both shared love for the same music, read the same books, and he had a personality which formed out of pure ardor and benevolence, which made it very easy to be able to form a strong bond together. It was very enjoyable living with him, as we wouldn’t avoid each other at all. Whenever both of us were present, there was nothing we would rather do than just spend time with one another. When nothing was going for us on weekends, we tended to just sit there on the couch in the living room, drinking warm, hot mugs of tea made by Damon at his advance, simply chatting about anything and everything. We would talk until the sun had gone down, until one of us had practically fallen asleep on the other, which was usually me, giving Damon the chore of putting me into bed, which I would constantly be thanking him for the following morning. At certain points in our friendship it was hard to distinguish whether we had feelings for each other, or if it was just a strong platonic relationship; other people had consistently pointed out our relationship together, and how we supposedly acted as if we were the happiest couple in the world.

After being asked whether me and him were together or not countless times, I had begun thinking about our relationship from an outsider's perspective, and over time I had realised that I was gaining feelings for Damon as I started to take notice of the little things that he would do. The warm smiles that he would give me; his plump, soft lips curving in a philanthropic manner, almost child-like, filled with pure love and adoration for you that you would instantly urge yourself to reciprocate. The unneeded care that would ensue once he realised that I was sick and needed a day off, bringing me a warm cup of tea in the morning, also mentioning that he wasn’t attending his band session later on in the day because I was his main priority, and that music could wait. The way he would rush into my room whilst I was organising my laundry, his lyric book gripped in his hand with a pen in the other, practically begging me to hear the new verse he had surprisingly conjured up in a couple of seconds - my opinion meaning so much to him that he would force me to read his finished songs, changing whatever I thought didn’t suit. And not to mention his features. His angelic, ocean-like orbs, where your eyes would get lost in them instantaneously; causing you to wonder what sort of resplendent alchemy went forth in creating such adoring pools of blue; his foolproof nose, sculpted in everlasting beauty, locked in the middle of his face, showing there was no flaw in his features, that he was the definition of true excellence, and though not a part of his face, the hair from his fringe that would coat over his forehead ever so softly, so elegantly, the strands, though roughly brushed through, looked as if they had been done professionally by his hairdresser. You were unable to pinpoint a flaw on him - he was the embodiment of elegance. You’d simply wonder whether this kind of beauty exists, and to have it living with me, was unequivocally something my heart was unable to handle.

Stepping into the flat that we both shared, I quickly took my shoes off before locking the door. As I wandered around the apartment, the aroma of smoke was easily identifiable, implying that Damon was inside, and smoking. Once I reached the living space, I saw Damon was sitting on the couch, flicking through the channels on the TV. “You alright?” I asked him, leaving the shopping bags on the countertops of the kitchen. He turned to look at me, a sweet smile painted on his lips before he took another drag from his cigarette. Oh, to be that cancer stick.

“I’m alright.” He replied, putting out his cigarette on the glass ashtray in front of him, then getting up to help me with the groceries. “How are you, love?”

“I’m okay. I managed to get everything we needed before we both died from starvation.” I laughed, folding up the now-empty bags that were once brimmed to the full of things we needed.

My gaze was fixed on him as he shut the fridge door as I leaned my tired body on the counter, him making his way after shutting the door to stand as close to me as he could. There was practically no empty space between us as he held me in an embrace, his face hidden into my neck as he played with strands of my hair gently. “I missed you,” He uttered, my heart now swelled in adoration for the man that was holding me, unaware if my body was able to handle more of his tauntings. Once he pulled out of the embrace, he clung onto my hands whilst staring deeply into my eyes. I couldn’t help but blush deeply as I looked into his eyes, getting lost in the essence of his handsomeness. I noticed his warm smile form into a cheeky grin as I realised that he knew I was going red. “You’re blushing.”

Slightly embarrassed, I scrunched my face together and looked down to the ground. There was no way out of it, one day he was going to find out just how much I had grown a liking for him. Instead of responding, I moved away from the situation and headed to sit on the couch, knowing that he would follow suit. Once we sat together, I grabbed the cigar pack that was left open on the table and put a cigarette between my lips, looking at Damon as a form of asking where the lighter was. He immediately grabbed the lighter from his pocket and pressed it, causing a flame to come out. I leaned closer to him to allow him to light the roll of tobacco, my eyes not daring to move away from the sight of the flame. I felt his eyes staring intently at my features, the tension in the air being more prominent than it had ever been before. When it was lit, I instantly inhaled, exhaling sharply to expose the smoke that had quickly built up in my throat.

“What did you do today, Dames?” I asked him, attempting to instigate a conversation. His eyes were still lingering on me whilst my eyes tried everything they could to avoid embarrassing myself again, with another blush.

“Well I went in to do some recording, today was mainly for Graham’s guitar solo so we finished up early,” he answered, walking to the fridge to grab himself a beer, then coming back to sit right next to me. “Graham tells me you’ve got a crush on someone.”

After almost choking on the smoke created in my lungs, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks yet again, the action moving so fast I could feel my cheeks begin to sting. “Ehm- He told you that?”

“So it’s true…” Damon began, placing his drink on the coffee table, a smirk evident on his features. “I thought he was lying, since we usually tell each other everything, but your face says otherwise.” He added, my heart panging slightly as I felt bad that he thought that I didn’t want to tell him. Oh if only he knew it was about him. If only he knew that what I haven’t been able to keep my mind off for weeks on end was him. If only he knew that he’s all that engulfs my mind.

“Who’s the guy?” He asked, as I felt his body shift ever so slightly closer to mine, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he noticed my stiffness.

“You don’t know him.” I mumbled, staring down at my feet as I felt his breath fan my face slightly, the redness of my cheeks still prominent though I tried to ignore the heat radiating out of them.

“Describe him to me then.” He said, in a teasing manner. Part of me felt that Graham told Damon that it was him, and knowing Graham he probably would’ve done that since he was one of the many who believed that we would’ve been good together since we acted like it. But I wasn’t planning on jumping to any conclusions just yet.

“Uhh well…” I felt my cheeks heat up a bright red again as I looked in Damon’s direction, quickly snatching his beer off the coffee table and taking a sip of it to calm my nerves. “He’s got blond hair, blue eyes…” At this point I was staring deeply into Damon’s eyes, full-well knowing I was redder than ever, hell, I was a tomato. However, as I stared at him, I thought of all the possibilities and chances I would be able to mention to him that I developed feelings for him, and chances that would be handed to me easily. At most, I would probably be forced to go up to him and tell him myself that I liked him, which I had no courage in doing so in fear of absolute rejection. Though the fear of rejection still resonated in my mind deeply, there was definitely no way out of Damon and his questioning - he wanted to know everything, and he wanted to know it all now.

“Hmm… Sounds familiar,” he began, the smirk on his face not leaving any second. “Don’t suppose this crush has a name, does he?”

The next few seconds felt as if they had been stilled. Every single thought that I could have ever mustered in my mind joined themselves together, making my mind and body feel as if the moment we were living in was not real, at all. I felt breathless, ironic to the fact that I had been exhaling large clouds of smoke in the room, but I suppose even when breathing, you can still have your breath taken away from the sight before you. It felt as if I was in a haze, a drunken stupor, a lucid dream that felt far too realistic, but I had never thought that this moment would ever occur in mine and Damon’s time living together, or even in a child-like fantasy, or ever. Our faces were inches apart, my eyes constantly flicking through his bountiful orbs and smooth lips, his eyes fixated on mine, as if he was searching for something. Something to tell him that his suspicions were correct.

“It’s you for god’s sake.” I mumbled before eagerly conjoining my lips with his. I felt as if I rushed myself into it, the feeling enrapturing my mind, my body, and especially my heart. There was no other moment I had felt equated to this as our bodies embraced one another’s, the pair of us slowly allowing what was happening to melt into our minds. My heart was pounding as if my life had depended on it, my mind raced with thoughts so anxious but elated as both our bodies allowed our mouths to brush past one another’s until we were at a loss for breath. Love had never felt so strong, love had never carried this much emotion, this much integrity. I felt as if there was nothing else I had needed other than this moment to characterise its virtue, the intimacy shared overstimulated my emotions, for I felt like balling into tears at this juncture - not out of sadness, but out of pure admiration and alleviation that all this tension over the past couple months was real, that the love we had for each other was real, and not some fantasy that I invoked in my mind. Parting away from him, my eyes were fixated on his features - there was nobody else on this planet that could make me feel such emotion than him.

“You’re still blushing, love.”

#damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #blur band #britpop #my writing #band imagines #90s #90s music #nineties #fluff

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myfanwymusings · 3 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT / FEARLESS (TAYLOR’S VERSION)

These lyrics are from Taylor Swift’s 2021 re-recording of her 2008 sophomore album, Fearless. These lyrics may be modified to better fit roleplay purposes. Please note: every track from the new album has been included, except Love Story (Elvira Remix) and Forever & Always (Piano Version) due to their lyrics being duplicates of lyrics already in the album elsewhere.

FEARLESS

There's something 'bout the way the street looks when it's just rained

I'm trying so hard not to get caught up

You're just so cool

I don't know how it gets better than this

With you I'd dance In a storm in my best dress

I wanna stay right here

I'm not usually this way

You pull me in and I'm a little more brave

FIFTEEN

Take a deep breath and walk through the doors

Try to stay out of everybody's way

You know, I haven't seen you around before

When you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them

When someone tells you they love you, you’re going to believe them

We'll be outta here as soon as we can

All you wanted was to be wanted

All I wanted was to be wanted

Back then, I swore I was gonna marry him someday

I realized some bigger dreams of mine

I've found time can heal most anything

I didn't know who I was supposed to be

I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen

LOVE STORY

We were both young when I first saw you

Hello

Stay away from Juliet

I’m begging you, please don't go

Please don't go.

Take me somewhere we can be alone

All there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It’s a love story, baby just say yes.

Baby, just say yes.

We're dead if they knew

They're trying to tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it’s real

Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess

I got tired of waiting

My faith in you is fading

I’ve been so alone

I keep waiting for you but you never come

Is this in my head?

I don’t know what to think

Marry me, Juliet

You’ll never have to be alone

I love you, and that’s all I really know

I talked to your dad

Go pick out a white dress

HEY STEPHEN

I know looks can be deceiving

I know I saw a light in you

I didn't say half the things I wanted to

You might have me believing I don't always have to be alone

I can't help it if you look like an angel

I wanna kiss you in the rain

Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you

I can't help it if there's no one else

I can’t help myself

I've been holding back this feeling, so I got some things to say to you

I never seen nobody shine the way you do

I've seen it all, so I thought

I think you and I should stay the same

Why aren't you here tonight?

I could give you fifty reasons why I should be the one you choose

All those other girls, well, they're beautiful but would they write a song for you?

WHITE HORSE

Say you're sorry

That face of an angel comes out just when you need it to

I honestly believed in you

This ain't a fairytale

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down

Maybe I was naive, got lost in your eyes

I didn't know to be in love that you had to fight to have the upper hand

I had so many dreams about you and me

I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well

YOU BELONG WITH ME

She's going off about something that you said

She doesn't get your humor like I do

What you're looking for has been here the whole time

Why can't you see that you belong with me?

I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be

You've got a smile that could light up this whole town

Hey, isn't this easy?

You say you're fine but I know you better than that

I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night

All this time how could you not know?

Have you ever thought just maybe you belong with me?

BREATHE (FEAT. COLBIE CALLAIT)

None of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

It's killing me to see you go after all this time

I don't know what to be without you around

We know it's never simple

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

I can't breathe without you, but I have to

I never wanted this, I never wanna see you hurt

Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out

It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend

TELL ME WHY

You might think I'm bulletproof, but I'm not

You took a swing, I took it hard

Down here from the ground I see who you are

I'm sick and tired of your attitude

I'm feeling like I don't know you

You tell me that you love me, then cut me down

You know you got a mean streak

I remember what you said last night

I know, that you see, what you're doing to me

You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day

I'm sick and tired of your reasons

I got no one to believe in

You tell me that you want me, then push me around

Why do you have to make me feel small?

Why do you have to put down my dreams?

YOU’RE NOT SORRY

I've been giving out chances every time and all you do is let me down

It's taken me this long, baby, but I've figured you out

You're thinking we'll be fine again, but not this time around

You don't have to call anymore

This is the last straw

I don't wanna hurt anymore

You can tell me that you're sorry but I don't believe you, baby, like I did before

You're not sorry

I might believe you if I didn't know

I could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold

You've got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know

You used to shine so bright, but I watched all of it fade

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

I couldn't ask for anything better

You look beautiful tonight

I feel perfectly fine

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name

I never knew I could feel that much

You're so in love that you acted insane

He can't see the smile I'm faking

My heart's not breaking cause I'm not feeling anything at all

FOREVER & ALWAYS

Were you just kidding?

I don't feel welcome anymore

Baby, what happened?

He still hasn't called

You feel so low you can't feel nothing at all

I was there when you said forever and always

Was I out of line?

Did I say something way too honest?

I thought I knew you for a minute, now I'm not so sure

Where is this going?

Did you forget everything?

I don’t think so

You didn't mean it

THE BEST DAY

I don't know why all the trees change in the fall

You're not scared of anything at all

I know I had the best day with you today

How my friends could be so mean?

I don't know who I'm going to talk to now at school

I have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger

You're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world

I know you were on my side even when I was wrong

I didn't know if you knew

CHANGE

I believe in whatever you do

I'll do anything to see it through

These things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

The time will come for us to finally win

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

There's something in your eyes says we can beat this

We never gave in

JUMP THEN FALL

I like the way you sound in the morning

Your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

All I can think is we should be together

Don't be afraid to jump then fall

I'm never gonna leave you

I'll catch you

The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry

I'll hold you through the night until you smile

Every time you smile, I smile

Every time you shine, I shine

UNTOUCHABLE

I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why

I'm caught up in you

When you're close, I feel like coming undone

Say that we'll be together

I won't wait here all day

I want to feel you by my side and standing next to me

COME IN WITH THE RAIN

I don't wanna go there anymore

I know all the steps up to your door but I don't wanna go there anymore

I'll leave my window open

I'm too tired at night to call your name

Just know I'm right here hoping that you'll come in with the rain

I could stand up and sing you a song but I don't wanna have to go that far

I've got you down, I know you by heart and you don't even know where I start

I don't know what else I can say

I'm too tired at night for all these games

SUPERSTAR

This is wrong but I can't help but feel like there ain’t nothing more right

I can't help but wish I could see your face

I knew from the first note played I'd be breaking all my rules to see you

I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who's desperately in love with you

Loneliness comes around when I'm not dreaming about you

I knew when I saw your face I'd be counting down the ways to see you

I'm invisible and everyone knows who you are

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR

In the heat of the fight I walked away ignoring words that you were saying

This time I've had enough

I'm so mad I might tell you that it's over

Leave

I'm in love with you

All I need is on the other side of the door

I keep going back over things we both said

If you know everything tell me why you couldn't see when I left, I wanted you to chase after me

I can't even look at you

I don’t need you, but I do

There's nothing you can say to make this right again, I mean it

TODAY WAS A FAIRY TALE

Today was a fairy tale

I used to be a damsel in distress

Time slows down whenever you're around

Can you feel this magic in the air?

I fell in love when I saw you standing there

It's getting so much clearer

Nothing made sense 'til the time I saw your face

YOU ALL OVER ME (FEAT. MAREN MORRIS)

I lived, and I learned, had you, got burned

Swore that I'd get out of here

No amount of freedom gets you clean

I've still got you all over me

The best and worst day of June was the one that I met you

Don't you wish you had me?

Every breath of air I breathe reminds me of then

I watched a part of myself die

MR. PERFECTLY FINE

I've been waitin' for you all my life

Every single day until the end, I will be by your side

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine", how's your heart after breaking mine?

It's wonderful to see that you're okay

Everything revolves around you

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I never got past what you put me through but it's wonderful to see that it never fazed you

WE WERE HAPPY

When it was good, baby, it was good

No one could touch the way we laughed in the dark

Goodbye's so much harder 'cause we were happy

I hate those voices telling me I'm not in love anymore

THAT’S WHEN (FEAT. KEITH URBAN)

Need some space to think about all of this

When can I come back?

All this playing, did you ever think of me?

I'll be waiting at the front gate

I did you wrong, made mistakes and put you through all of this

I'll come back

DON’T YOU

I knew I'd run into you somewhere

It's been a while

I didn't mean to stare

I'm sure she'll make you happy

Don't smile at me and ask me how I've been

Don't say you've missed me if you don't want me again

You don't how much I feel I love you still

Sometimes I really wish that I could hate you

I swore I wouldn't do this

BYE BYE BABY

It wasn't just like a movie

This is the last time I'll drive this way again

I still love you but I can't

I was so sure of everything we thought we'd always have

Seems like I'm becoming part of your past

There's so much that I can't touch

You're all I want but it's not enough this time

I can feel you like you're slipping through my hands

I'm so scared of how this ends

I want you back but it's coming down to nothing

#Taylor Swift lyrics.#inbox memes.#roleplay memes.#roleplay starters.#rpc #rph #rp sources #rp memes.

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

for your eyes only || h. styles

warnings: swearing, references to drugs

word count: 2.5k

summary: harry is feeling the pressure of making his new album...

You were already in bed by the time Harry got home. Though still awake, your eyes were heavy and your body ached for rest. But you’d never been able to sleep without knowing Harry was safe at home.

The slamming of the front door echoed through your house. You listened silently as he hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. You heard him wander into the kitchen, turn on the tap and pour himself a glass of water. After a couple of minutes, he ventured upstairs, heading straight into the bathroom. He began brushing his teeth.

All the while, you stared out the window of your bedroom. It looked out onto the London streets, dimly lit by the street lights. The bedroom was dark, only illuminated slightly by the outside sky and all of its stars and the moon.

Harry had been at the studio all day. He’d been stressing about writing his new album. He had started coming home late and leaving early. You barely saw him anymore. You always left him some leftovers in the fridge for him to eat when he got in or take for his lunch. Every time you tried to ask him if he was okay or if he needed to take a break, he’d just shrug you off and tell you he was fine.

You’d seen a similar thing when he was making his first album, but it was never as bad as this. You’d seen it when he was trying to finish Watermelon Sugar, but it was never as bad as this.

You felt the bed sink beside you, which consequently woke your cat, who was sleeping at the bottom of your bed. His name was Podge. Rolling over to face Harry, you smiled softly at him. You wanted to be angry at him for never telling you where he was anymore or prioritising his album over your relationship, but you just couldn’t be. You always knew where he was. He went to the studio all day and then would go back to Sarah and Mitch’s for a bit during the evening. “How are you?” he whispered, wrapping his arm around your body.

“Tired,” you replied, squeezing him tightly.

He pressed his lips lazily to the top of your head. You smiled at the feeling of his touch. “Go to sleep then,” he mumbled.

“But I haven’t seen you today. And I won’t see you tomorrow,” you sighed. “I just miss you. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, love. You know I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

You sat up, turning back to him. He frowned, propping himself up against the headboard. “That’s the thing. I don’t think you would tell me.”

“What? Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, you never told me when you were making your first album. You never told me when you were trying to finish Watermelon Sugar. You don’t have a great track record of being transparent when it comes to telling me when you’re not okay,” you explained. “Instead, all you do is come home and go to sleep. Then you wake up before me to get to the studio early. And even when you finish at the studio, you go back to Sarah and Mitch’s. She’s fucking pregnant, Harry, give them some time alone.”

He sat there and took it like a small child being scolded by his mother. He played with his fingers as you tried not to shout. You both knew it would only be a matter of time before you broke and all your feelings would come pouring out.

The sound of Podge whining at the bottom of the bed interrupted your heated rant. He plodded his way up to the two of you, settling in between you both. He often did that. He’d clamber up to the top of the bed to sleep between your bodies when everyone was comfortable.

Harry reached down to run his hand along Podge’s soft back. You sighed, throwing the covers off your legs. “I’m going to get a drink,” you told him as you left him alone in the bedroom.

He watched you leave. He didn’t call out or beg for your forgiveness. That was never how arguments were handled in your relationship. He sighed, getting comfortable in bed again, waiting for your return. The sound of Podge purring was enough to calm his nerves as he listened to you pour yourself a glass of water in the kitchen. He listened carefully as you walked around a bit, before he heard the back door open and close.

You often went outside to take a moment to collect your thoughts whenever you and Harry got into an argument. Harry knew this.

You set your glass down as you sat down on the bench against the wall. The fabric was cold against your thighs. You looked up at the bedroom window, wondering whether Harry was contemplating everything you’d said or if he was comfortably falling asleep.

Harry waited for you to return. You never did. You’d gone to sleep in the spare bedroom. The two of you were too tired to take it too further tonight. So, you both slept, knowing tomorrow would either be full of shouting and tears of frustration or pettiness.

However, when Harry woke in the morning, he climbed out of bed to apologise to you. Podge followed after him, his claws loud on the floor. But you were gone. The bed in the spare bedroom was made. He slowly made his way down to the kitchen, his nerves getting the better of him. Had you really left?

There was a note on the kitchen counter by the bowl of fruit. ‘GONE OUT FOR BREAKFAST WITH GEM’. Harry looked over at the clock on the wall. It was thirteen minutes past nine. But he didn’t know when you’d written the note. He quietly poured himself a glass of orange juice and buttered some toast. He went out into the back garden, sitting down in the very spot you’d sat in a few hours earlier.

The weather was nice. The sky was blue and there was a moderate breeze in the air. His phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up to reveal the picture of you he had set as his lock screen. Your slightly pixelated smile was electric through the screen as you cradled Podge in your arms when he was just a kitten.

The notification was from Mitch. He couldn’t make it to the studio. Harry replied quickly, telling him it wasn’t a problem. It was Saturday anyway. Granted, Harry could probably do with a day off. But, even when he lay in bed all day doing absolutely nothing, he was still working.

That was the trouble with making an album: it plays on your mind until it’s finally out in the hands of the public. More so, Harry noticed, with his solo albums. And that was why Harry seemed to spend every waking moment in the studio. He figured that he might as well be in an environment where he can turn his epiphanies into harmonies.

He heard the front door open and close. You were home. Harry finished the remnants of his orange juice. Podge appeared in the doorway, rubbing his head along on the edge of the threshold. Shortly after, you followed. You were standing in the doorway, shuffling awkwardly. “Not going to the studio today?” you asked, sitting down opposite him.

He shrugged, “Might do. It’s still early yet.”

You nodded. There was no pettiness. There was no shouting. There was just silence with intervals of small talk. Harry watched you as you fiddled with your fingers, your knee bouncing. You were nervous, he could tell. “How was Gemma?” he asked.

“She was great,” you replied. “Asked how you were.”

“Yeah? What did you tell her?”

“I said you were fine,” you shrugged. “Just busy with the album.”

He nodded slowly, “Right.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, sitting up straight. You felt Podge run his body along your leg beneath the table. “What? Was I wrong to say that?” you asked, worrying that you’d done something wrong.

He shook his head quickly, “No, no.”

Harry didn’t say anything more. He was closed off. There was something he wasn’t telling you. You’d been with Harry long enough to know this. Usually, he was quite open with you. He told you what felt like everything. But this never applied to his music. His job. You and his job were two separate things. He made that explicitly clear from the very beginning. You were never to get mixed up with his music and his music was never to get mixed up with you. The line between the two was never blurred.

But this meant he hardly ever told you when he was struggling or when he felt like he needed a break from it all. You only ever heard songs when they were finished. You only ever saw music videos when they were complete. You had only ever been to one awards show with him - the 2020 Brits. You had never even seen the inside of the studio. You had only met his band on a handful of occasions, all of which had been on nights out or for celebratory dinners, never when they were rehearsing.

It was like he was leading two lives.

“You are okay, aren’t you?”

He nodded, “Sure. Just a bit stressed.”

You sighed, exasperated, “You always say that! Every time I ask if you’re doing alright, you just shrug and tell me you’re ‘a bit stressed’. Harry, ‘a bit stressed’ isn’t spending every day at the studio. It isn’t spending all night at the piano, trying to get a song just right. It isn’t constantly comparing yourself to other artists, trying to work out what worked for them and what didn’t. It isn’t getting high every time you fuck something up. It isn’t acting like you have no life outside of the music you make.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a life outside of the music I make. Don’t you get it? I’ve dreamed of this my entire life. I reached the top with the band. And once you’ve had a taste of what it’s like to own the fucking world, everything you do becomes about trying to get there again. It’s like a fucking drug. When it’s been in your system once, it lives there forever and you can’t stop thinking about it. You crave it,” he snapped. You winced as you watched him become so worked up, tears of frustration falling down his cheeks. He dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands harshly.

It took you a moment to absorb everything Harry had said. Last night, it had only been a matter of time before you’d broken. Today, it had only been a matter of time since Harry broke. You were sick of it. Harry was sick of it. You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as his words registered, “I don’t know if you need to hear this from me. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually said this to you. But you’ll never be as big as the band.”

Harry looked up, his eyebrows knitted together. He looked offended. As anyone would be, you supposed. “What?” he squeaked out.

“I know it’s brutal. And I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you’re never going to be as big as the band. And it’s shit, Harry, I know. But you’re a fifth of that band. Some fans left with Liam, and some left with Zayn, and some left with Louis, and some left with Niall. And some left with you. And some left with all five of you. But the point is you’re missing four of the components you had when you owned the world. That band was fucking massive, Harry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. You didn’t expect him to. You’d said all you felt you needed to say to him. And, while you knew you’d never be able to relate to exactly how Harry was feeling, you’d seen the devastating consequences stardom has on a person. You pressed on, “You owned the fucking world, Harry. But you owned it with four other guys. And I don’t think you could do it on your own.”

He sighed, nodding, “It’s just hard.”

“I know, baby. But it won’t get easier if you just don’t stop. You need to step back from this toxic mindset you’ve got yourself into. You literally just won a Grammy, give yourself a break,” you said.

“That’s the point. I won a Grammy for Watermelon Sugar. What if I can’t make that again?” he sighed.

“Harry, you’ll never be able to make it again. Surely that’s the beauty of it all, right? Nobody wants to hear you put out another Watermelon Sugar. I can guarantee your fans would be happy to listen to what you want to make,” you said.

It felt so foreign to be talking to Harry about these kinds of things. You’d reassured him and given him advice on all sorts, but never about the music industry. That was his area of expertise. But spending time with Gemma always put you in some sort of healthy frame of mind.

You reached across the table to squeeze his hand. There was no way you could still be angry at Harry for spending so much time away from the house. He wiped away the stray tears that clung to his cheeks. He reached down to cuddle Podge, who’d jumped up onto the bench at some point or another. “Thanks,” he said quietly, finally looking you in the eyes. “I’m sorry for getting so worked up over this. It’s so pathetic.”

“Don’t apologise, H. I love you and I’m always gonna be here for you. Please don’t be embarrassed about these things. I’ll never judge you for being emotional,” you smiled softly.

“You’re too good for me,” he said, grinning across at you.

You leaned back in your chair, shrugging, “Probably. I do think of this relationship as more of charity work.”

He laughed, “You’re so selfless!”

“I know! What can I say, some heroes don’t wear capes,” you smirked.

It was moments like these, with the sun beaming down at the two of you, that you’d missed. Harry was smiling again. It felt like something you hadn’t seen for weeks.

The truth was, Harry had always found it easier to express his feelings through the art of music. And, while this posed many benefits for him, it meant that, when he was trapped with writer’s block, he found it difficult to free himself of the burdening stresses of his industry.

You got to your feet, extending your hand to Harry, “Come on, you’ve not had a shower for days. You stink.”

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