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Penny for your thoughts
Synopsis: You’ve recently been transferred to a UK base and struggle with British currency. Your lieutenant is mortified—and rightfully so.
Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1,286 (approx. 5-6 mins reading time)
Notes:
I thought it was funny when I wrote it, okay? It’s a crackfic. There’s some teasing and playful banter in there, but I can’t label it as fluff.
Warnings: Profanity. Lots of it.
More A/N at the end.
———————————————————————
You’ve been trying to escape the lieutenant’s grip for the past two hours.
The upcoming mission requires close combat skills, he said. You’ll need to infiltrate a facility with minimum weapons and immobilise—but not kill—the targets for interrogation.
You admitted to him that you hadn’t practised in a long time and your combat skills were a little rusty. But Ghost assured you this wouldn’t be a problem and offered a refresher course in ground fighting and submission techniques.
You never imagined this would be an issue when you agreed to it. On the contrary, your lieutenant was an expert in combat, and training with him could be considered a masterclass.
Looking at it now, with your cheek pressed against the floor and your body twisted like a nautical knot, you wish you could take it back.
The mats have become your second skin. Ghost relentlessly pins you to the ground and immobilises your limbs while explaining the mechanics behind each hold. Sometimes you wonder why he gets into so much detail since you can’t hear shit and are practically knocked out.
Yet, he doesn’t give up on you. He advises you to feel the weight shift, urging you to exploit the slightest openings, encouraging you to break free. Whenever he sees you’re struggling or senses you’re uncertain, he taps your hand or leg, giving you clues to help you.
He immobilises you once more, but he pats your back this time.
“Alright,” he says, standing up, “that’s enough for today.”
He walks to the bench, picks up his towel, and pats his neck. You roll on your back and spread your arms.
“I feel like a pretzel.” You whisper.
“Yup,” he confirms, “that’s Jiu-Jitsu for ya.”
Drenched in sweat, you push yourself off the ground and slowly walk to your bag. You extract your towel and begin rummaging through your wallet to find spare coins for a water bottle. You manage to find one pound, but unfortunately, you fall short.
“Lt.?” You call out.
He turns halfway to give you his attention while tugging the velcro straps from his gloves.
“Do you have fifty pennises?”
He stops midway and lets go of the velcro strap. It can wait. His eyes have formed two thin lines, and his eyebrows almost touch each other.
“Do I have fifty what, soldier?”
“I need fifty pennises.” You reply, this time louder, “Do you have fifty pennises?”
His eyes have changed. They’re not squinting anymore. They are bulging. He frantically looks left and right, bringing his index finger to his mouth.
“Shhhh!” He whispers and runs towards you, waving his other hand in front of your face. “Shut your mouth!”
He closes the distance between you and looks behind him.
“What is wrong with you?” He whispers.
You raise your eyebrows and blink rapidly.
“No,” you reply, “what is wrong with you?”
He lets out a sigh and looks at his surroundings once again. He scratches the side of his chin and clasps his hands in prayer.
“Tell me exactly what you want,” he requests more calmly this time, almost begging you, “Make a sentence out of it.”
“I’m thirsty.” You explain.
“Obviously.”
He’s starting to get on your nerves. You open your palm and raise it to his eye level.
“Look,” you order and point at the coin, “I have one pound.”
“I can see that.” He replies and puts his hand on yours, pushing it down so he can look at you.
“The vending machine needs one pound and a half.”
“Say it.” He commands and swallows hard, “The vending machine needs one pound and fifty...”
You clench your jaw and look at him dead in the eyes.
“Pennises.”
He lets out a snort and clasps his hand at the bridge of his nose. He turns his back to you and takes a few steps away. His shoulders move up and down.
“Ah, soldier,” he replies, still looking the other way. “that’s a lot of pennises.”
You run a hand through your hair and sigh.
“I know my pronunciation is probably wrong,” you state and shut your eyes, “but I need them.”
“Don’t say that,” he says between gasps, “you don’t need that many.”
With your eyes still closed, you start babbling about how wrong he is and how you wish you had a million of them so you could escape this hellhole and retire on an island. He squats to the ground and covers his masked face with his hands.
He sounds like he’s whimpering. You might have assumed he was sobbing if you hadn’t known the cause of his stance. But you knew why he was half crying, half laughing. It sounded hideous. It was hideous. You just can’t remember the word.
What’s it called, what’s it called...
You open your eyes. Ghost is walking towards you, wiping away tears from his eyes. He retrieves a fist of coins from his pocket and, muttering something under his breath, chooses two. He pinches a silver hexagonal-shaped coin with his fingers and shows it to you.
“This,” he says, “is fifty pence, or 50p.”
“Pence or p.” You repeat.
“That’s right.” He confirms and pinches a smaller coin with his other hand. “Now, this little one is a penny. Fifty of these are called fifty pennies.”
“Pennies,” you echo and slap your thighs, “See? Was it that hard to explain?”
“Oh yes,” he replies and nods slowly, “yes, it was that fucking hard.”
You lift your palm. “Can I have the big one?” You ask.
“Say it first.” He commands you.
You roll your eyes. “Can I have the 50p, Lt.?”
“Of course, you may have the 50p.” He says and places the coin in your hand, “What you absolutely may not have is fifty….” He stops and lets a repressed chuckle out.
You press your lips together and bite your cheek to not respond to his teasing. But you can’t.
“…pennises, I presume?” You sneer.
“Yeah, no.” He says and vigorously shakes his head, “You don’t want that.”
You wince and rub the back of your neck. Ghost tries to comfort you, telling you it’s ok and you shouldn’t feel bad, but he doesn’t believe it himself. He’s smiling beneath that mask; you can tell by how the grimace alters his voice. You thank him for the coin and walk to the vending machine.
“Soldier,” he calls out, “how many times have you said that word since you came to the UK?”
You tilt your head and try to recall.
“I can’t remember.” You conclude.
“You can’t remember if you ever said it, or there were so many occasions that you can’t count them?” He asks with a trembling voice.
“No, Lt.,” you reply, defeated, “I don’t remember asking another person for that.”
He looks relieved. He lets out a long exhale and rubs his masked face with his palms.
“I never thought I’d ever say this,” he says, “but I’m glad I was the first one.”
———————————————————————
A/N: I wrote this in March, along with this story (yes, they’re very similar). Although I liked the idea and thought it was funny, I initially discarded it because it felt stupid, and chose to post the other one (not like the other one is pure genius). It remains as such, but as I said, it’s a crackfic. I’m not researching how to improve human welfare.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost cod#ghost cod mw2#cod ghost#ghost cod mwii#ghost call of duty
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anything you want
a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 1.6k
summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader
a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!
(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)
—
“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”
Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.
“Where you off to, man?”
“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.
“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.
“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”
“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet.
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.
“What’re you teaching today, trouble?”
“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater.
You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you.
Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.
You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred.
Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt.
Fuck.
There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.
When did you get so close to him?
“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.
“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium.
He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair…
Maybe Chris was onto something…
“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”
Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you. What a dork.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.
And they always are, whether you can help it or not.
Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.
“Like what, trouble?”
Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.
“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.
It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.
“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table.
When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete.
But Luke’s always been there, watching.
Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.
“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.
“You talk too much, you know that?”
Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.
Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.
Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.
Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.
It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.
Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.
Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—
“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”
He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.
He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.
—
“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”
-Lang Leav
ask to be put on general/luke taglists!
luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings
#luke castellan x reader fanfic#luke castellan x dionysus!reader#luke castellan x reader#pjo show imagine#percy jackon and the olympians#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse#luke castellan fluff#thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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༻¨*:· 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ·:*¨༺
༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺
𖦹 remus is used to the same day, and then you come into his life.
༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺
𖦹 please give me some grace. i havent written a full on fic in... a hot second
𖦹 record shop owner!remus x fem!reader (she/her prns)
𖦹 sirius uses he/they prns
𖦹 also. reader moves to england so she doesnt have british accent. yeah.
𖦹 lily evans being the best
𖦹 FLUFF (everyone cheered!)
𖦹 [brief] ANGST (everyone cried!)
𖦹 not proofread
༻¨*:· words ·:*¨༺
𖦹 2.7k
Routine—a very familiar word to Remus. His days were the same. Wake up, go to work, go home, shower, then sleep. He ate the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch. Dinner was the only thing he frequently changed—maybe one day, he would have pasta, and the next, he would have chicken. He hung out with friends on Saturday, and they went to the same pub every time. The topics were usually the same. Sirius met someone new, someone they claimed to be "The One," only for that person to leave their life. James usually talked about training, Lily, and updates on her pregnancy. Since school ended, things had become... predictable.
You walked into the rickety old record shop, intent on finding your favorite album. It broke on the move to the UK, and you needed it desperately.
Upon hearing the bell ring, Remus looked up. It was part of his routine—to see who had entered his shop—and there you stood, tote bag in hand with messy, windblown hair.
After searching through the Rock section for ages, you practically squeal when you see the album.
Remus looks up as you walk to the counter, "Hi."
"Hi," You smile. Your accent throws Remus off, and he smiles.
He looks at the record, then puts it down, "We have this in a white vinyl," He says, "I— I didn't mark it as colored, so you probably didn't see it. I can go grab it for you?"
You eagerly nod, "That would be fantastic!"
He stands, and you realize how tall he is—it's like he's towering over you.
A moment later, he returns with the other record, "They're hard to come by," He scrawls something on the record sheet, then rings up the album.
You thank him and pay, leaving him to wonder if you'll be back.
The next time you see him, he's with a pretty girl. She's got bleached blonde hair and a cute button nose. She's beautiful. Of course, you recognize the tall man—how could you not? He and the girl make their way to the counter; they both order.
"For Remus," A woman calls out.
Remus—that's his name.
Remus steals glances at you the entire time he's at the coffee shop.
"Who's that?" Marlene asks with a coy smirk.
"I don't know. Came into the shop a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, so you have a little crush." Marlene is full-on smirking now.
Remus goes red, "What? No." He shakes his head, "No," He repeats, trying to reassure himself that he doesn't have feelings for you.
"Sure," Marlene mutters, taking a sip of her drink.
Remus rolls his eyes.
About a month passes by until you see one another again. You walk into the shop. Remus looks up when the bell rings, and he smiles.
Sirius is there today, and they go up to you.
"What're you looking for?"
You answer, and he leads you to the section as if you don't know the alphabet. He doesn't mean it that way, you know that.
Still, you tease them about it, and their face goes stark red, "Sorry. I just— Sometimes record shops can be confusing in how they order things. Like, when it goes from 'C' to 'D,' does the 'D' section continue on the other side, or does it continue straight across? You know?"
"I'm kidding around," You smile, "I've been here before. Granted, it was just once, but I know how it works. Thank you, though."
"But of course," Sirius curtsies, "Anything for you..."
"Y/n," You introduce yourself.
"I'm Sirius. Like the star," He clarifies, "Like, that's my name. S-i-r-i-u-s," They spell out.
You giggle, "Nice to meet you, Sirius."
"Nice to meet you. I love your silly accent, by the way."
"You're the one with the silly accent," You shoot back.
"Not when my accent is outnumbering yours."
You tilt your head and hum, "Strangely, I understand what you mean."
"It'd be concerning if you didn't."
"Do you frequent this shop a lot?" You ask, flipping through albums.
"My friend is the owner." Sirius shrugs.
You perk up, "Remus?"
Sirius quirks their brow, "You know him?"
You get hot, "No."
He narrows his eyes, "So, how do you know his name is Remus?"
"Well," You whisper, "I came in a while ago. He was really nice when I checked out. Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw him at a coffee shop, and they said his name when his drink was ready."
"You're a creep," Sirius raises his eyebrows.
"No!" You argue.
"Such a creep." Sirius begins walking away; you rush to follow him, "I'm telling him." He says.
You begin to panic, "Wait! No!"
Sirius keeps walking to the front.
"Sirius," You whine, "Stop!"
"Remus!"
You silently will him to stop.
"Remus!" Sirius calls again.
"Lovely lady over here has something to tell you," He smirks.
If looks could kill, Sirius would be six feet under.
"I just– um–" You sputter out, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me with the record last time I was here."
You swear he blushes, but you don't want to look to find out.
"It was no problem," He smiles, "Maybe I could give you a call if any of their other records come in?"
Sirius smirks from the sidelines.
"Um..." It takes a moment to process, "Sure." You nod assertively, "Yeah. I would love that!"
Remus's world has turned upside down—you keep him on his toes. He stays up because, maybe, you'll call tonight. You eat lunch with him sometimes, and gone are the days when he eats the same thing every day. Gone are the days when he closes up shop at 7:00. Gone is routine.
"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" You ask, wrapping the cord around your finger.
"I'm actually going out," Remus responds. You frown, and your imagination runs wild. What if he's going on a date?
"Hello?" He asks, and you realize you've blocked him out.
"Huh? Sorry?"
"I asked if you wanted to come with me. You can meet my mates. If you want." He spits out. Saying it once is nerve-wracking enough; saying it twice is terrifying because what if you say no? What if you don't want to meet his friends? What if–
"I'd love to!" You cut his frantic thoughts off, and his heart swells.
"Really?" He asks.
"Of course!"
So, now, you're standing in front of a random pub, wondering if he's pranking you. It's been about five minutes, and you know that's not a long time to wait, but your anxiety is getting the better of you.
Then, five turns to fifteen, and you're wondering how pathetic you look.
"Y/n?"
Your head whips to the door, "Sirius? When'd you get here?"
Sirius checks their wrist like they're checking a watch, "'Bout half an hour ago. Did the dimwit not tell you to meet us inside?"
You shake your head, "He said to meet him at the bar. So, I guess he didn't quite specify." You shrug.
"Well, come on in," He holds the door open for you.
You thank Sirius and look around for Remus. He's not hard to spot, and Sirius jogs over to their booth before whispering something into Remus's ear. He looks up and smiles brightly.
"You're here!" He exclaims.
"You're here." You say, tone almost scolding him.
Sirius whispers something else to him.
His face drops, "Oh... sorry for not telling you to meet us inside." His mouth quirks to one side in a guilty expression.
You smile, "It's okay. I forgive you." You sit next to him.
"Oh, thank god," He rests his hand on his chest, "A pretty girl being mad at me would've been my death."
Heat blossoms in your chest.
"So..." James begins, "Now that flirt time is over, can I say hello?"
"Ha!" Sirius barks out, "Flirt time!"
Remus gets warm, "This is James, another one of my school friends. James, this is y/n."
All James says is: "You're his lock screen, y'know?"
Remus kicks him under the table.
"I mean–" James smiles, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I have never seen your face before."
"Smooth," Sirius whispers to James.
You smile at Remus's red face.
"Ignore him, please?" He begs.
You nod.
Sirius and James tell you embarrassing stories about Remus for the rest of the night, and the boy starts to regret introducing you to them as a pair.
At the end of the night, he drops you off.
Rubbing his face, he sighs, "I hope they weren't too much."
You smile brightly, and Remus feels like he could fall to his knees, "I had an amazing time. They're really fun, Remus."
You leave him with a kiss on the cheek—he puts his hand up to the spot and smiles the whole way home.
"I've missed you," You say into the phone.
"I've missed you, too. You should just let me come over." Remus begs for the umpteenth time.
"I don't want to get you sick," You frown, "That would be horrible."
"It wouldn't be the end of the world. We could quarantine together," He smirks, "I could make you soup, and we could cuddle together on the couch and watch some ridiculous rom-com."
"Take a girl out on a date first!" You joke.
"I would if you weren't so busy being poorly." Remus groans.
"So you're asking me out on a date?" You smile and do a little happy dance.
"I guess I am."
He's smug, and you can tell.
A week later, you sit in a fancy restaurant—the kind where the prices aren't even on the menu. Remus is fidgety. He's wearing his nicest button-down, and you think it looks funny on him. He gets red at your comment and looks down at the table with pursed lips.
"I just meant that I'm so used to you wearing those comfy sweaters. You look good, though." You earnestly smile at him.
"You look nice tonight, yourself."
"Well, I'm going on a date with this charming boy. I wanted to impress him."
"I hear he's very impressed."
You insist on paying, but he won't let you. As soon as you pull out your wallet, he snatches it from you.
He kisses you before leaving you at your car, and you don't want it to stop. It's soft and tender, and it's everything you hoped it would be.
One date turns to two, which turns to five, and now you're anxiously pacing in your flat. You're dating Remus; you have been for a few months, and you're not sure when it's an appropriate time to ask the question, but you'll ask tonight. Except Remus doesn't come. He doesn't call, either.
After an hour of worrying, you call Sirius.
"Hello?" He answers—it's obvious he's high.
"Hi. Do you know where Remus is?"
Sirius laughs, "Right here."
"Can I talk to him?"
You hear rustling as Sirius passes the phone.
"Hello?"
"Remus," You whine.
"Hey there. What's going on?" He's calm—too calm. He's also high.
"You were supposed to come over tonight." You frown—it's a fruitless effort. He can't see you.
"Shit. 'M sorry, baby," He frowns, too. You can hear it.
"'S okay. I was just really looking forward to seeing you." You dramatically slide down your wall into a crouching position.
"I'd come over, but, y'know," He wanders off.
"You're so high you can barely walk?" You offer.
He takes it, "Yes."
"It's alright," You sigh, and Remus feels terrible, "Promise you'll come over tomorrow?"
"Promise," He answers.
But then tomorrow comes, and Remus has yet to show up. So you dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. An hour passes until your phone rings, and you're anxious and giddy and hopeful as you pick it up.
"Sorry." Remus's voice is gruff, and you can hear the guilt in his tone.
"It's okay. You can still come over. It's not too late."
"No," He sighs, "I'm sorry, but I can't... I have to break up with you."
Your face drops with your stomach, "What?"
"I can't be with you. I'm— I'm sorry."
"No!" Tears blur your vision, "You can't just tell me we're over. Explain yourself!"
"I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard."
You choke out a sob, "What's too hard? Loving me?"
"No," He sighs, and he sounds tired, oh so tired, "I'm incapable of giving you what you need."
"And who gets to say what I need?"
"Y/n, for your sake, I'm ending this. I can't provide for you in the way you'll need me to."
"Remus," You sigh, "I don't understand. What do you mean you 'can't provide' for me?"
"I can't emotionally be there for you. I'm sorry."
And as you hear the dial tone, you let your sobs out.
You feel empty. Your only friends are Remus's; now you feel like you can't talk to them.
"You're daft," Sirius scolds, "Y/n was lovely, and you break up with her over the phone?!"
Remus hangs his head in shame, "Yeah, I did."
Then Remus looked up and was met with one of his worst fears. He'd been on Lily Evans's bad side more than once, but never like this. He'd only seen this stare a handful of times, but not once was it directed at him, until now.
She marches over to the booth, never breaking her stare, leans close to Remus, and slaps him, "You twat!"
He doesn't know what to say, so he holds his cheek and waits for her to continue.
"You hurt an exceptionally lovely girl for what?! Because you're insecure? Because it was too scary to feel loved so deeply? That girl gave you her all, Remus! And this is how you treat her?" Lily's face is red at the end of her rant, and Sirius tries to hold in their snickers.
Lily narrows her eyes at Remus, "I can read you like a book, Remus Lupin. I know what's going on in that magnificently stupid head of yours! Go apologize to her!"
"I can't," He murmurs, "I've already ruined it."
She rolls her eyes, "You won't know unless you try, and not knowing will eat at you, and you will die confused, sad, and alone."
"She has a point," Sirius agrees, "I mean... we all know you'll just mope around until we push you to talk to her, but by then, it'll be too late. She will have found somebody, and they'll get married, and you'll just be that bloke from when she moved here. Go talk to her."
"What do I say?"
It's almost midnight when a knocking at your door wakes you. Groaning, you get out of bed and make your way to the door.
You undo the bottom lock, keeping the chain in place.
"Yes?" You peek through the crack, surprised to see Remus holding flowers on the other side.
"I'm sorry."
He thinks he's surely blown it when you close the door, but he hears the chain clanking as you fully unlock it.
"What are you doing here?"
Remus wants to cry at the sight of you. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, with red tracing your waterline.
"I—" He has a whole script planned out but seems to have forgotten every word, "I have flowers," He settles on.
"For me?"
He nods.
"What are you doing here?" You ask again, taking the flowers.
"I'm here to apologize. I was a dick the other day."
You tilt your head, "You mean the other day when you broke up with me?"
Remus almost doesn't catch the sarcasm, "I'm sorry. I get so caught up in my head—"
You turn from him, "Come in," You mutter as you walk into your kitchen.
He closes the door behind him and toes his shoes off, "I get scared when I let somebody get too close."
"Tea?"
"Yes, please."
He watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing cups and boiling the water. He's missed you.
"Why let me get close at all, then?"
"Because I like you."
You turn and look at him, "Do you, now?"
Remus sighs, "Look, I fucked up, I know that. Do you think we can try again?"
You walk over to him, "You said you can't give me what I need. What does that mean, Remus?"
"I'm unfit to be with somebody."
"I don't think so. You were wonderful the past three months. So wonderful that I think, if you work on yourself, we can give this another go."
"Can I kiss you?" He asks, leaning in.
"I look terrible," You laugh.
"No," He rests his forehead against yours, "You're always beautiful."
"Kiss me."
hi guys sorry if this is bad😇😇
my lovely mutuals <33
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miss americana: ghost edition
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series summary: The 141 has varying thoughts about Americans which range from finding them wildly entertaining to thinking they’re the worst people on earth. However you challenge their perspectives when you meet them. Something about you makes them feel a little more patriotic ;)
read gaz's edition here!
summary: Living in the UK has been quite a transition for you and there's a few things Simon doesn't mind pointing out (or making fun of you for)
pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x American!reader
warnings: swearing
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the way you make tea is CRIMINAL to him.
“What are you doing?” Simon asked, startling you and causing you to lightly tip over your mug of lukewarm water. “Jesus, Simon,” you gasped, “I’m making some tea.” He did a double take as he examined the mug in your hand and the partially opened microwave.“You have the microwave open?” “Yeah to heat the water,” you responded as if he was asking a rudimentary question. At that moment, Simon could’ve had a heart attack. He quickly went over to you and dumped the water into a stovetop kettle. You crossed your arms over your chest, wondering what had gotten into your boyfriend. To your curiosity, you watched as he heated it until the kettle whistled. He poured it gently into your mug and placed a tea bag in it. “Here,” he said as he handed it to you, “that’s how you make tea.” “I don’t see the difference,” you mumbled before gingerly sipping on your tea and giving him a quick kiss.
He entertains the amazement you have when you see something that you swore was only distinctly “American.”
“You have hot dogs here?” you practically shouted seeing a stand with your favorite mystery meat. He looked at you bewildered as you stopped to stare at the stand. It was autumn and the leaves colorful leaves lay perfectly around the stand. "It's beautiful," you whispered as the sunset illuminated the bright red hotdog meat on the plastic sign. "It's a hot dog stand." Simon replied flatly, "You make it seem like it's the second coming or something." You shot a look back at him as your stomach slightly grumbled. Before you could say anything, Simon pulled you along with your hand firmly placed in his. "We're having dinner at Price's," he reminded as you pouted at his brisk pace. "But Simon," you began to plead before he cut you off. "It's the same thing you get back into America," he informed and you nodded at the commonality of the stand, "probably a little better though."
When you’re in public, he’ll be sure to let you know if you’re talking too loud.
"AND THEN" you practically yelled as you walked around the grocer's. Simon gave a death glare to the stares that met your loud mouth. "Mind just lowering your voice a little, love?" he asked politely as he continued to push the cart down the aisles. "Sorry," you sheepishly replied, "just used to everyone being deaf back at home." You sighed, missing the loud, noisy streets of your hometown and the boisterous laughter and comments from your friends. You just naturally spoke in a louder tone to compensate for it. "It's alright," he comforted, "people here can barely speak over a whisper." You shared a laugh as you continued your conversation without care. You could feel your homesickness temporarily wash away in the moment. It also helped that Simon met any judgmental eyes with a look of absolute menace.
You initially thought him not smiling was only a characteristic distinct to him but you soon caught on to the British way of melancholy or blank stares.
"Why does everyone look so sad here?" you whispered to him as you sat on the tube. After a casual dinner, you looked around to see the other passengers silently looking at their phones or out the window. "It's like everyone has a perpetual frown on their face," you continued as you looked up at him. "Just the way people are," he replied in an attempt to answer your question, "you all are so smiley in the US." You looked at him shocked and put a dramatic hand to your heart. "Not my fault we're just so friendly," you mumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You continued to sit in silence as the train car screeched along the tracks and the train car began to empty. With a handful of stops left, you felt the need to continue the conversation. "You know, I thought it was just you, but I guess it's just a UK thing," you joked before returning to look back at your phone. As you sat there in silence, Simon couldn't help but love the little things you said that always kept him wondering.
Simon will never understand the beauty that is a bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel from a New York bodega after a night of drinking.
"Good morning," Simon smiled, slightly more chipper than usual. You looked back at him as he tussled his messy bedhead. You had gone out for a rare night of drinking with his team and it was clear that someone was feeling a little hungover at the moment. "What are you making?" he asked as he poured you both a cold glass of water. You smiled as you turned around with your masterpiece on a plate. "I made something special," you giddily answered as you pushed it towards him, "this is a New York specialty." As he placed the sandwich in his mouth, you continued. "Here we have expertly prepared strips of bacon, two eggs, and sliced, American cheese of the finest quality. Everything has been cooked to optimal temperature to burst in your mouth and it all lies on a bed of a perfectly toasted, everything bagel," you presented as you smelt the delicacy of your creation in the air. "It's a sandwich," he replied as he swallowed and you rolled your eyes. "It's not just any sandwich, Simon," you corrected, "it is essential to the morning after drinking." He nodded unimpressed as he continued to munch on his breakfast sandwich. "If you don't want it though, I can always take it," you began to say but you were met with his hands snatching it off the plate. "Mhmm that's what I thought big man."
Despite always correcting you, he smiles a bit at your little phrases and terms.
On a slow morning, you walked over to the couch and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Got any plans today?” you asked and he let out a small grunt in response. “I’m thinking we go to the movies,” you suggested. “You mean the cinema?” he cheekily asked and you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, let’s get dressed.” When you arrived, you walked with Simon and saw the growing line to enter the theater. “C’mon babe, let’s wait in line,” you said, walking towards the back and you failed to see his shit-eating grin. “It’s the queue,” he joked, clear sarcasm in his voice and you groaned at his antics.
Finally, the last straw was when you exited the movie and you wanted to relax at home with a good glass of wine. You put up with the teller, sweets, loo, and chips but you drew the line when it came to the next term. Simon’s arm was slung on your shoulder as you discussed the film when you remembered the lack of alcohol at home. “Si, can we stop at the liquor store?” you asked, innocently and you could see a signature smirk flash across his face. “You mean the off-license?” he replied and you lost it. “Oh shut up or I won’t have my parents ship those Costco jeans you love so much!” you replied and his snarky comments silenced. You knew how much he loved those bargain pants that were surprisingly sturdy. He nodded in response before placing a kiss on your angry forehead. “You’re a shithead,” you exclaimed and before he could interject with another term, you put up your hand to silence him, “not another word, London boy.” God, how Simon wanted to correct you and say he was from Manchester.
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty modern warfare#izzie is drawing#cod mwii#modern warfare 2#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#call of duty#mw2 imagine#madebyizzie#mw2#izzie is writing
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hellooo!! lmfao idk if its just me but am i the only one who noticed that pedri absolutely HATES the cold, or he just gets rly cold easily idk but the way he wears his puffer jacket is so cute, anyway i was hoping u could write something related to that?? love ur work btw !!!☺️
cold boy - pedri
summary: pedri visits england for the first time and realises that he was definetely not made for cold weather.
being from an island that is known for its hot temperatures, pedri cannot handle the cold that surrounds him in various areas of barcelona in winter, or anywhere that is close to a minus in the temperature. his coat would be clung to his body, begging for some sort of warmth in these freezing conditions, and this was something that didn't go unnoticed by y/n or many barça fans.
y/n thought it was absolutely adorable, the way he would shove his hands into the pockets of his coat, head and neck covered by the hood. sometimes she would fling her scarf around his neck, just so he could get that extra bit of warmth she knew his body very much needed.
currently, the two were in the uk, back in y/ns home town for a few days of the holidays. y/n was aware of how cold the temperatures usually are in england, which is why she’d made her boyfriend pack as many fluffy sweaters, puffer coats and beanies he had.
pedri was excited for the adventure, the new experience of visiting england, a place he had never been before, but most of all he was looking forward to meeting his girlfriends family once again. he knew how much they loved him, and likewise he enjoyed their presence and the positive, cheery aura her folks possessed.
what he wasn't mentally prepared for was how cold it would be. in all honesty, he thought y/n was exaggerating with the temperatures; he didn't think it would be this cold until it had smacked him right in the face. his nose and tips of his ears had instantly started to turn pink and his lips became chapped, yet he still put a smile on his face whilst greeting his girlfriend's family and laughing at their jokes of how the canarian was finding this freezing weather.
it was now the second day of the couple being in england, and pedri was slightly adjusting to the winter weather. when y/n had asked him to go down to the markets with her, he had refused as he didn't want to spend another second freezing his ass off outside.
but when she pouted and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips, he couldn't deny her anymore.
"thank you! i promise it'll be fun, its not that cold out today." y/n stated as she put on her puffer coat. just a quick look outside begged to differ but pedri huffed and put on his own coat, grabbing his gloves and his beanie before following her out the bedroom.
the two made their way downstairs and as y/n was grabbing her bag, she noticed how cute her boyfriend looked stood to the side, his hair and ears submerged into the wool of his beanie and his hands in his pockets.
she grabbed a scarf and smiled as she made her way over to him.
"here," pedri watched as she reached up and wrapped the scarf around his neck twice. she fluffed it up so he was fully covered, then kissed him on the lips. "now you won't feel as cold."
pedris heart practically leaped out of his chest at her gesture; his cheeks warmed with love and adoration for the girl infront of him, transforming his lips into a shy grin. his arms wrapped around her neck as he pulled her body closer to his so he could lay a kiss onto her lips properly, mouths slotting together and cold breaths mixing as he kissed his gratitude and love into her.
"thank you, but i think i'll still freeze to death." he whispered against her mouth once he pulled away.
y/n chuckled and pinched his side, eyes glaring up into his brown ones. "you'll be fine, stop being a baby."
pedri pouted and snuck his head into her neck. the warmth he felt, all snuggled up into her body with his arms around her waist, was unmatched - no cold could truly bother him whilst he was in his girls arms. he pressed a kiss to her neck and whined once again that he would rather stay inside.
"no, you're gonna have fun, trust me, amor. c'mon." she grabbed his hand, letting him kiss her cheek one last time before pulling him towards the front door.
she really wanted him to see her home town, the markets that she grew up going to every weekend, the views of the sunset, the lights that illuminated the night and kept the town awake, and especially the snow that made everything look like a fairytale.
pedri saw the excitement evident on her face, so his fingers tightened in her hold. he pulled her closer to his body and they both made their way down the streets and to the markets. they laughed and talked about whatever they wanted whilst the snow trickled down and the cold wind wafted around them but pedri could’ve cared less in that moment as he had his girl by his side.
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Dos and Don’ts III
A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me
Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
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I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.
I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.
“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.
“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”
I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.
That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.
I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.
“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.
Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”
I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.
“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”
The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.
“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”
“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.
“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”
His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.
“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.
“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”
“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”
“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”
“I guess.”
“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.
I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.
“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”
“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”
“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.
He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”
“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”
“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”
I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.
By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.
It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.
“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.
“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.
“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”
I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”
“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.
“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.
Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.
“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.
I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.
The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.
“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.
“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”
“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”
“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.
“What?”
“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“
“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.
“Y/n don’t be difficult-“
“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”
“I’m not saying that-“
“Then what are you saying!?”
The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.
“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.
“I’m saying something needs to change.”
What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.
Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.
Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.
“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“
“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”
“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”
“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”
“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.
“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”
He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.
“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”
His voice raises as he talks.
“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“
“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”
“I shouldn’t have to!”
I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.
“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”
There, I’d said it.
His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.
“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“
“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”
“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”
Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.
“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“
“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?
Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.
“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“
“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”
I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?
“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”
I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.
Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.
The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.
And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.
I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.
You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.
I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.
Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.
I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.
It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.
***
The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.
I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.
I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.
I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.
As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.
So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.
I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.
“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”
He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.
“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”
“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”
“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.
“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”
He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”
“They so do.” I reply.
“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”
“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”
“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.
“I will,” I accept his challenge.
“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”
“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”
“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.
“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.
“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”
He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.
I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.
I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.
When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.
“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.
“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.
He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”
When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.
“Sure?” I respond.
Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”
I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”
“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”
He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.
I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.
I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.
“What do you need?” I come up behind him.
“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”
“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”
He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.
“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.
“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”
A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.
We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.
“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.
“Touché mon amie.”
“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.
“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.
“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”
“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”
We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”
“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”
“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”
“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.
I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”
“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”
“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.
“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”
“Like what?”
“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”
“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.
“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”
It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.
“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”
“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.
“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”
“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.
“Really?” He asks.
“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”
“You’re interested in it?”
“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”
“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”
“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”
“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.
“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”
“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”
“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.
“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”
I happily oblige.
We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.
“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.
“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”
“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”
“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”
“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“
“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”
“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.
“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”
“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”
“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”
“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”
I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”
“Bullshit?!”
“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.
“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”
Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.
“Fine. If you want to hear it.”
“I do.”
“I got into a fight with Gray.”
He raises a brow, I continue.
“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”
“Flatmate with benefits.”
“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”
“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.
“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“
“Mhm,” he nods along.
“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”
“The old silent on the home front.”
“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”
I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.
“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.
“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”
“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.
“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”
“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.
“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”
“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”
“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”
His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”
“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”
“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”
“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”
“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”
I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”
“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”
Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.
“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”
“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“
“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”
I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.
“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.
I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.
“Y/n? Y/n!?”
“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.
“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.
I hear him, panicked, on the phone.
“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“
“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.
“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.
A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.
“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.
“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.
“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.
“No you’re getting checked out.”
“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”
He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”
“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”
“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.
Harry’s POV:
I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.
I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.
The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.
I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.
It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.
“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.
I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…
“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”
“But?”
“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“
“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“
“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”
He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.
“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”
We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.
I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.
She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.
The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.
Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.
I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.
I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.
I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.
With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.
Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”
My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.
“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.
“We should never do nothing again.”
“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.
“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“
Her mouth parts. She was asleep.
I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.
I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.
Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.
I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.
I pick up.
“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“
“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“
“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”
I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.
This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.
“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”
The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.
I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.
“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“
The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.
“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“
“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”
Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?
“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.
“I thought-“
“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.
I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.
I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.
But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.
Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.
With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.
I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.
I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.
Y/N’s POV:
I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.
I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.
“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?
“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”
“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.
The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!
I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.
I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.
I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.
Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.
You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better
Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better
Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs
H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead
Y: when did you get your md
H: same time you got yours
Y: I have an md?
H: being stubborn 101
Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text
H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face
Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee
He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.
I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.
We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.
Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.
My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.
I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.
I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.
My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.
“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”
“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”
“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”
“But he never said. He never talked to me.”
She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”
I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”
She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.
“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”
“Was there heart?” She asks gently.
There wasn’t.
That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.
“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.
“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.
“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”
“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”
“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”
“Well Jace better be treating her right.”
“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”
Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.
“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.
Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.
I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.
***
I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.
It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.
I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.
“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.
“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“
“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”
“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.
We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.
“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”
On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.
I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.
“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.
“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”
She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.
“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.
“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”
I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”
“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”
“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.
I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.
“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”
“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”
“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”
“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”
“Yeah!”
“Goals,” I sigh.
Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.
The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.
“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”
“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”
“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.
He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.
Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!
Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”
Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.
“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”
“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”
He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.
“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”
“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.
A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.
As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.
Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.
I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.
***
The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.
I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!
I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.
I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.
“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.
“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.
“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.
“Hmmm half past 7?”
He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.
“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.
“I’ll be the one here missing you.”
“I’ll call every chance I get.”
“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.
“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.
“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.
“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.
“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.
“Just behave,” I warn him.
“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.
After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.
***
Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.
I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.
For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).
But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.
My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.
I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.
“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”
“Did something happen?” I ask.
She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”
I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.
“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”
“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”
“What to do when you act like one.”
“You know what-“
“Woah hey c’mon.”
I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.
“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.
Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.
He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”
“I wasn’t…”
“I could see it in your face.”
“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”
“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”
“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.
It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.
“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.
“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”
“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”
“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“
“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.
“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.
“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“
“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”
It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.
“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.
I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.
“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.
“No I’m trying to call the pope.”
“He might be sleeping.”
He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.
“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“
“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“
“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”
“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.
“I don’t need you right now just go.”
“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.
“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.
“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”
“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”
His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.
The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.
But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.
I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.
“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”
I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.
“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”
“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”
The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.
I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.
“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.
“It is,” someone else says.
“Who?” Claire asks.
“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”
“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.
“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.
“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”
Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.
I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.
I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.
“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”
“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”
Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.
I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.
He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.
Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”
“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.
He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.
“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”
“What does that mean?” Harry asks.
“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”
“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.
“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”
“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.
“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“
“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”
I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”
“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”
We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.
“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”
“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”
We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.
We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.
A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.
Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.
Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.
“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”
The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.
As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.
“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”
“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.
That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.
“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”
“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.
“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”
“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.
“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”
“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”
Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.
“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“
Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.
“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”
“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”
Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.
“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”
“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.
“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”
“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”
They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…
“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.
Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”
“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“
“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”
“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.
This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“
“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”
“Yeah but why-“
“Good.”
He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.
I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.
“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.
“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.
“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”
They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.
It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.
***
After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.
And I wanted Gray.
I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.
I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.
I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.
I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.
I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.
I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.
I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.
“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”
Gray.
“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”
“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”
“I know I-“
“I thought I imagined you.”
“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.
Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?
“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”
“About?”
“About.”
“Gray! What was I right about?”
“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”
“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?
“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”
My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.
“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”
I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.
He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.
***
It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.
What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.
Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.
I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.
I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.
Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,
“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”
“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-
“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”
“Oh I love Copenhagen…”
And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.
As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.
“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”
She raises a brow, “moves?”
“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”
Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”
“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.
“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.
“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”
“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.
“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”
I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.
“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.
“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”
It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.
“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”
I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”
“Bex!” Someone scolds her.
“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”
“That’s not true-“
“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”
They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”
It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.
“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.
“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”
“Sorry,” she says, quieter.
“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”
I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.
But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.
I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.
Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.
When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How was brunch?”
It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?
“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.
“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”
“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”
“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”
“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”
He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.
“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”
“Let’s just drop it-“
“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”
He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.
“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”
It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!
“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”
“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”
“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“
“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”
I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.
I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.
I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.
Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.
The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.
He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.
It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.
Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.
If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.
With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.
I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.
It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.
New tears. Less breaths.
“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”
Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.
“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.
The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.
I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.
“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.
“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”
“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“
“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.
“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.
I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.
We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.
I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.
I keep it on.
I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.
I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.
Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.
The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.
I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.
“What happened to your hand?” He asks.
I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.
“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”
“Did you get it checked?”
“No.”
“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”
“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”
“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.
“Mhm,” I nod.
He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”
I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.
“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”
“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”
“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.
“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.
Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.
***
TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77
#writingsfromhome#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#fic#harry styles angst#harry styles series#dos and donts#harry styles au#like I’m actually annoyed I had to split this up#because it’s supposed to get more interesting#ugh tumblr and its word limit…#musician!harry#well excited to finish the final part tho
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reincarnated lovers soap and moon and thats why hes so clingy
God that would be something. I love a good reincarnation au, I love one character knowing and never being able to really say anything. The idea that Soap seeks out Moon every lifetime and hopes she'll remember him is delicious. Also Soap having to woo Moon again and again, knowing everything she likes and exactly how she works, but also knowing that she's a tough catch even when he knows her so well.
For the purpose of the Cowboy au as it stands now I'm going to say that Moon and Soap could have met when they were younger. It would have been probably while Moon was in college, or maybe fresh out of high school. Back when she was still trying to figure herself out, and working on her thorns. Maybe she booked herself a ticket to the UK with the limited funds she had and figured she'd have some fun in a country where no one knew her. Maybe she wound up in Scotland, at a pub that had too many SAS men crowded in it.
You sip your pint from the corner of the room, watch the raucous excitement of men celebrating something. You don't particularly care what, but it makes you smile. Their joy is infectious, you're not ashamed to admit that. There's a man in the middle of the crowd, --young, boyish, your age you'd bet-- who seems to be the man of the hour. His short cropped hair is ruffled, his shoulder is pat, he's given hard thumbs on the back, and his blue eyes sparkle with pride. You wonder what he's celebrating, you wonder if you've ever seen anyone smile that wide.
His eyes land on you and you look away quickly. You don't want to be accused of staring, not when you're alone in a foreign country. Americans already have a bad reputation without you helping it. When you glance back at him, he's focused on the crowd, talking and laughing with the other men. They push at him a little, urge him to the bar, and lean close to talk to him. You decide to stop staring before you really do get into trouble, tugging a journal free of your bag.
You're half way through your notes of the day when a fresh pint is set in front of you. You look up with a "thank you," and feel the words die on your tongue looking up at the man of the hour. Boyish wasn't quite the right word for him, you realize. He's well muscled in a way that speaks more to his masculinity than his youth, and his hands look worn from hard work when they slide off your fresh glass. It's his eyes that are young, his smile that makes you think he's fresher than he wants to give the impression of.
"Thank you," you smile back.
"My pleasure," His accent is thick, and his voice rumbles pleasantly. You wonder if he's lowering it for your benefit, or if that's his natural register. You blink when he pulls out the chair next to you and takes a seat. "What are ya workin' on?"
You glance at your journal, try to remember your exercises in self confidence. "I'm- it's a log of my trip," You tell him, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes drop to your chest as you move, brief but warm and appreciative before they meet your gaze again.
"Mind if I look?" He asks, holding out his hand. You hesitate before handing your journal over. Confidence, you tell yourself, it's not like you've got anything embarrassing written in there. You have your days written down, and a few thoughts on what you've done
The man flips through the lined pages, stopping near the front to read. You finish your first pint and start your second, watching his eyes move over the page. He flips to the next one carefully, his eyes still skimming. You didn't think you'd written that much about your days. Except that's your all around journal, you don't just have your daily notes in there, you have a few little stories in between the pressed flowers and ticket stubs. Embarrassment floods you. You reach a hand to grab for your journal and he pulls it away from you. Your heart sinks at the familiar gesture. He must see it on your face, because he freezes and closes the journal to hand back to you.
You pull it back quickly, and squeeze it tight between your fingers. "I dinnae get to finish that?" He hums, leaning with his elbows against the table.
"It's not good," You explain, he shrugs.
"Aye, but it's yours," somehow that doesn't hit you as insulting, there's a warmth in his voice, "makes it special, yeah?" You look at your journal and nod. You suppose that's one way to look at it. He tips his head to the side, studying you.
"What?" You ask when he's been staring a second too long.
"You are a beauty," He tells you his eyes never leaving yours, "you got a man back in the states, or are you lookin' for one here?" You can't help the smile that splits your face, or the heat that rises on your cheeks.
"You're a lot dude," You laugh.
"Dude," He parrots with a grin, "ya cannae call your future husband dude."
"It's my last night in town," You shrug, sip your drink, "I can call you whatever I want."
"John," He says, "can call me John."
"How about Johnny?" You compromise. Something in his eyes softens, melting like snow. His voice is just a touch lighter when he says,
"Aye, can call me Johnny."
You think maybe you should've gotten a longer visa. Only because Johnny swears you haven't seen the best Scotland has to offer. You run through your whole trip with him, and he scoffs at your route through the UK. He makes you laugh, like he's known you for years and not an hour. Future husband doesn't feel like such a stretch, or it wouldn't if you thought you'd ever see him again. You won't. Neither of you talk about where you're from, where you're going. There's a silent understanding, that this is it. The wrong person at the wrong time. You never understood star crossed lovers, but here you sit wishing the flame could burn just a little longer.
You only realize how late it's gotten when the bartender yells out for last call.
"Lemme see your book again love," Johnny holds out his hand, you curl your fingers against the cover protectively. He tugs a pen from his pocket, and holds it up to show you. "Just wanna give ya somethin' to remember me by."
You suppose you're amenable to that, sliding the journal over for him to flip to a fresh page. You hum quietly to yourself, watching the bar. It's nearly empty, you've been here longer than you planned to be and you have an early flight home. Johnny shuts your journal and slides it back over to you, clicking his pen shut.
"I'll finish it the next time I see you," He promises. You shake your head with a smile, and he grabs your chin to hold you still, leaning in and kissing you. It's soft and sweet, and melancholic. Your smile feels a little sadder when he pulls away. His doesn't seem to lose any brightness. "Next time," he assures you.
"Next time," You agree.
You take your time collecting your things, let Johnny jog to catch up with his buddies. They smack his back and give him thumbs up, pushing at his head when he blushes and grins. You flip your journal open to check what he left you. Your chest tight when you stare down the little sketch of your face, your penned in fingers tight around a glass, your eyes looking out at the blank page. It looks good, you don't know what he means about finishing it. You suppose it was just a good line.
-
Soap sorts through your bookshelf, waiting on you to finish getting ready for dinner. His eyes land on a red leather spine, and he carefully eases it out of its spot sandwiched between broken paperbacks. The cover is plastered with stickers, and the pages are warped. It's stuffed full of something other than notes, and held together by a piece of elastic across the cover. It's familiar enough for him to ease the elastic to the side and flip through the pages.
Ticket stubs, pressed flowers, pieces of wrappers and wrist bands are carefully pasted to the lined pages. He smiles at your handwriting, traces his fingers over dates and doodles. He stops on a largely blank page, carefully blank, save for the drawing in the corner of you at a bar in Scotland.
His heart clenches tight in his chest. Affection tugging at him, he can't believe you kept this. You never said anything, but he could never forget you. Soap glances around your room, and snags a pen off your desk, quickly but carefully sketching himself onto the page next to you. He loops a quick heart around the old and new sketch and scribbles a messy "I love you" underneath.
He get your journal slid back into place as you exit the bathroom, grumbling about not being able to clip your bracelet on.
"I hate weddings," You complain, when he grabs your wrist to secure the chain.
"Really?" He glances at your pout, "I was hoping to do something special for ours."
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#f!reader#oc: moon#cowboy au#soap x reader#johnny mactavish
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hotel room | H.S
summary: harry & Y/N are friends but it’s a love hate relationship with so much tension you can hardly breathe. this tension isn’t any better when they get stuck in a hotel room together for the night. and it only has one bed.
warnings: SMUT! hand job (f+m receiving), PIV unprotected, sloppy morning sex, teasing, swearing, praise, friends to lovers.
A/N:I have opened my requests! and I’d love to write some from you guys, so send them in here <3
———
“So there’s only… definitely only one room for us?” I say slowly, and the lady behind the counter nods.
“Y/N,” Harry says, “we’ve shared a room before—“
“I’m so sorry the inconvenience— Since the multitude of delayed flights from the storm we’ve had an unexpected influx of last-minute bookings…” her hands are zipping along the keyboard as she is clearly under the pump.
“You’ve been booked under a single room.” She glances up, face turned up apologetically, confirming.
I nod, knowing there’s so many other people needing somewhere to stay right now, there’s no point being picky.
It’s just one night.
Because Harry and I live in the same part of the UK, we usually catch the same planes to and from when we get short breaks from touring with the band.
So of course we flew out for our Australian leg of the tour several hours ago and got stuck at our layover destination, Abu Dhabi.
The storm rolled in quick, putting hour— even day long— delays on flights. So now people are scrambling to book hotels for the next few nights.
Luckily our management got on it as soon as we’d called them about the delay of out flight, but I suppose they only could get us the one room for two.
We get our room key and head up the elevator to the 7th floor.
When we walk into the room there is a single queen bed in the centre of it, and I glance at Harry out the corner of my eye. We are always close to one another being in the band, but never “share a bed” close.
“Don’t stress.” He says.
“I’m not stressed.” I quip.
“Yes you are, don’t try and bullshit me.”
“Harry, we’re adults it’s fine.”
“Hardly adults.” He chuckles.
I scoff at his constant digs, there is a fineline of how much Harry I can tolerate in a day and we are really pushing it.
“Well if you think that then I implore you to take the couch.” I know just by looking at the couch he’d hardly fit on it, and I’m not that much of an asshole to let that happen.
“Oooh, you’re just trying t’get the bed all to yourself? Bloody bed hog.”
I open my bag up, pulling out fresh clothes and my toiletries, “Was just providing you the options. I’m going to shower.”
“Too bad if I wanted one first.” He sighs dramatically, with a little smirk that usually indicates he’s teasing.
“Too bad indeed.” I smile sarcastically at him as I shut the door.
It’s so nice to wash away the gross feeling that sticks to your skin after long flights like we just had.
When I come out of the bathroom he’s laying in the bed, crisp white doona pulled back.
“Dude you’re getting airport germs in the bed.”
He glances up from his phone, eyeing me for a split second— I’m just in sleep shorts and a plain tshirt.
“It’s fine, I’ll just have this side.” He replies, a smile breaking out over his face.
He leaves me no room to respond as he stands up, “im gonna have a shower as well, and then we can order room service, how’s that sound?”
I nod, “I’ll get the menu and have a read through.”
It’s weird how we one minute can’t stop sarcastically niggling and the next we’re back to being normal friends.
I browse through their relatively large menu as the shower runs in the background. If I strain, I can hear Harry gently humming.
I’m happy to see my favourite foods on there… and heaps of deserts.
He comes out shortly after while I’m still reading the menu, and he’s clad in only grey sweatpants, adorning damp hair.
I choose to tear my eyes away from his bare chest, “I’ve figured out what I want to get, have a read through.”
I chucked him the menu and he comes to sit down next to me on the bed.
Im surprised we don’t end up in another debate about the sleeping arrangements, but I think we’re both so exhausted from the flight. The 8 hour plane trip settling deep into our bones.
“They have y’favourite.” He says with a smile playing on his lips.
“Yea, I’m so glad. It’s all I’m craving right now.”
“What are you gonna get?” I lean to look over his shoulder at the menu.
“Maybe I’ll try their tacos?”
“I’m gonna order some of the desert stuff too.”
“Y’gonna be so full.” He laughs.
“It’ll be worth it.” I say, as I stand up to go over to the phone on the desk in the corner of the room.
I ring up and order an unnecessary amount of stuff before giving them our room number and hoping back into bed.
It’s so cozy, and if it weren’t for the food I knew was coming, I’d probably curl up and fall asleep straight away.
We lay together, talking about the plan for the next few days until the food gets delivered with a knock on the door.
I get up to open it, taking the trays of food from the kind waiter.
He groans, “God it smells good.”
We both spread the dishes of food on the bed and quickly start eating.
The TV starts playing reruns of friends, the episode where Ross makes the paste with his leather pants, trying to get them up.
We’re both tearing up with laughter, stuffing our faces with our first proper meal since dinner on the plane over 5 hours ago.
“Holy shit.” He says, and we’re are letting out fits of giggles, as Ross says “—and the lotion and the powder have made a paste…”
“I swear— why did he listen to joey.” I scoff, shoving a bite of food into my mouth.
“No, because the way it just keeps getting worse.” He buries his face into his hands with a pained grin.
We watch a few of the episodes that were playing, sharing the last of the chocolate cookies that I’d ordered.
I stood up to move all the trays our food came on over to the small kitchen bench, leaving them for the morning.
“That was so yum.” I sigh out, content and full.
I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish up my night routine, ready to honestly just go to sleep.
I come out with a small smile on my lips, excited to get back into bed where it’s cozy. Slipping back under the crisp white sheets, Harry turns off the TV.
The room is now dark, “fuck… can’t see now— I gotta brush m’teeth as well.”
“Have my phone.” I chuck it in his general direction, and clonk him straight in the side.
“Ouch.” He huffs, grabbing it and turning the flash on.
He pads over to the bathroom while I roll my eyes at how dramatic he is.
He turns the lights on in there, coming back over to give me my phone now that he can see.
I text a few of my immediate family members to let them know we’d settled into our hotel, choosing to leave out the fact we’re sharing a bed.
I mean assuming that’s what the plan is. I highly doubt he wants to sleep on the couch.
Being the only female in a band of boys leads to lots of assumptions throughout my family unit. Especially with Harry.
They mistake our arguments as ‘pent-up sexual frustration’. Which is far from how I like to think of it.
He steps out from the bathroom, and I turn my torch on so he can flick the light off.
He scrapes a hand over his face, looking to me with tired eyes.
The hotel was relatively quiet now, only a few drunken laughs echoing down the hallway as it nears 12am.
He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself.
I tug my pillow down a bit before turning off my flash.
“Y’tired?” He asks quietly, sounding already kind of groggy.
I hum in agreement, rolling to face him. It’s quiet a few beats.
I can just make out his outline next to me,
I can feel the warmth of his body from where I’m laying. And it feels like I’m being enveloped by it in a strange— yet lovely way.
The thought floats around in my head, images conjuring from the darkness.
I blame this on the 8 hour flight and sleep deprivation.
Usually I can ignore it, but as much as he’s a proper pain in the ass sometimes, I’d have to be visually impaired to say he wasn’t good looking.
And hell he’s laying in the same bed as me without a shirt on.
“Y’staring at me.” He chuckles softly, and I startle a little.
“How can you even see me?” I ask, amused.
“I can’t, can just feel it.”
“As if you can feel it.” I scoff, “I’ll roll over if my eyes being on you makes you too uncomfortable.”
“No, no, wait come back.” He whines as I start to move.
I huff out a laugh, and roll back over to him.
I keep my eyes shut, “better?”
He whispers a yes, and I smile.
I keep that very smile as I drift off, listening to Harry’s slow breathes from beside me, allowing them to lull me to sleep.
———
I can only half remember waking up.
I was warm, heavy, and I felt his body before I saw it.
My eyes had only opened a tiny bit—there was light creeping through the thin curtains, making his unruly hair just visible.
My leg was thrown over his hip, and I was pressed right into his chest. We were fully intertwined, and fuck did it feel nice.
I close my eyes again, I can feel his morning wood. My heart jumps a little in my chest. Maybe I can just roll over— pretend I didn’t feel it, and go back to sleep.
I carefully strain to make the movement, but I instead get pulled closer to him.
He pushes himself against me, a sigh slipping from his nose, and I realise moving may have been a bad idea.
“Fuck…” I hear him mutter against my hair, bucking his hips up again.
“Harry.” I say, voice croaky with sleep. Of course this does nothing.
I have no idea how awake he is, I’m not even fully awake yet. But Jesus, this feels better than it should.
I feel like a horrific person for enjoying the way his clothed-length is pressed into me. But by god I am not strong enough to remove myself from this situation.
“Harry, wake up.” I groaned, squirming a little in his grasp.
He seems to come to it, just enough to realise whatever the fuck is happening in a couple seconds.
“Y/N…? Fuck. what is—“ I feel his body tense underneath me as it hits him, and he probably feels his boner pressed between my legs.
His hand flys up to my thigh that’s resting on his hip, “Holy shit—“
“It’s fine, H.” I whisper, and I’m not really sure why I say that, or what I’m implying by doing so.
Or what it means paired with the fact I haven’t protested to his dick practically grinding against my cunt.
“What do you mean?” He asks, groggily.
“Not sure.” I confess, whimpering a little as he still is hard underneath me. I push into him a bit out of unspoken desire and I hear him swallow.
He doesn’t say anything as he slides his hand up my leg, cupping it on my ass.
I glance up to see his face, his eyes still half-lidded, and his cheeks have a gentle flush to them.
I feel myself getting wetter as he keeps rubbing himself along my thin sleep shorts.
He moans a bit, and I slip my hand between us to palm his cock through his sweatpants.
“This ok? Want me to help you out a bit?”
“God— yes please…” he groans.
I push it underneath his waistband, tugging him out.
He’s heavy and hot in my hand. Glancing down, its bigger than I expected. The tip is flush and red, glistening with the damp beads of precum. Hardly surprising he’s got such a pretty cock.
“Fuckin’ Christ— look at y’little hand wrapped ‘round me.” He swears.
I slowly squeeze the head of it, and that quickly has him bucking into my palm.
His own hand travels between my sleep shorts, “Mind i return the favour?”
I hum in agreement, but he doesn’t do anything, “Gotta hear you say it, tell me what you want.”
I roll my eyes, of course he’s like this in bed, wants to hear how bad I want him.
“What do you want me to say to you Harry? How bad I want your fingers in my wet cunt right now, or how I want you to fuck my clit with your tongue?”
“Want my tongue do you? Because yes that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.” He says, smirking as he dips his hand under my shorts, running his fingers through me.
“No panties… been next to me all night with your pussy so easily accessible. Such a little slut.”
He collects my arousal, carrying it up to my swollen clit. I moan with the action, trying to keep my hand pumping rhythmically.
This proves to be a challenge, as he’s very clearly skilled with his fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Hardly even touched you.”
“Been grinding your dick into me for a bit, actually.” I hiss as he slips a finger into me.
“Sorry, Baby. Did my hard cock get you all worked up?” He teases, and I hate the fact that he’s right.
I give a particularly hard squeeze and he grunts, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He quickens the pace of his fingers, fucking them in and out of me.
“Hard to hate me when I’m making you feel so good, hm?” He kisses my forehead, curling his fingers in me.
I cry out. Fuck— I was going to come.
“Wait, wait, wait— don’t wanna come yet, please…” I clench my thighs around his hand and it stills.
I look up at him, his green eyes burning with desire.
He doesn’t say anything, just leans his head down and places a wet kiss on my lips.
He keeps his fingers pumping slowly in and out of me as we start to kiss.
He brings me close to coming again a few times, just to tease me, but he keeps his focus on my lips— pulling my bottom one between his and sucking on it.
It’s messy and sloppy, edges of it blurred from the morning haze still over us.
“Harry.” I say into his mouth, legs shaking a little.
“Want you in me.” It comes out of me as an unbridled thought.
“Jesus…” he murmurs, stunned by hearing the words fly out of me so openly.
He pulls his lips away, cock twitching in my hand, “you want…”
“You want me to fuck you?”
I nod, grabbing the hem of my shirt and slipping it off.
He’s enamoured by me, it’s clear in his eyes.
He reaches his hand up, out of my sleep shorts and he cups my breast with it gently.
He moves his mouth down to place gentle kissed over them.
“You’re perfect, yknow that?” He says against my skin, tugging me closer to him as I smile at the flattery.
“I’m on birth control too.” I state.
He glances up, and it appears I’ve shocked him yet again, “you wanna take me raw?”
I haven’t gone without I condom in ages… but I trust him.
“We’re both clean, right? I trust you.”
He smiles, “I’m clean. As long as your sure.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of something.
He pulls my sleep shorts off, and I help shuck his sweats the rest of the way down his legs.
We’re warm between the sheets, and he’s peppering open-mouthed kisses along my neck as he lines himself up with me.
He locks eyes with me as he pushes in, and both of us moan at the feeling.
“Fuck— you’re tight.” He squeezes his hands on my hips.
I am blinded with the pleasure of him filling me up, I can’t even think about how bad an idea this could be.
“Feels so good, H.” I groan, scraping my nails along his chest.
“Can feel you clenching around me.” He reaches a hand down to play with my clit.
He’s gonna make me come embarrassingly quick— especially considering he sort of edged me a bit while we were kissing.
He was thrusting into me, a perfect pace to have me squirming in his arms.
I can tell he’s getting close, my name flying out his mouth paired with vulgar words and moans.
“I- fuck- I’m not gonna be able to drag this out if you keeping squeezing m’cock like that.” He pants.
“I’m close, so just come with me.” I plead, the thought of him finishing with me adding fuel to the fire in the pit of my stomach.
“God H, I’m gonna come— hard.”
“Fuck, sweetheart, keep talking.” He says, his skin slapping into mine, chasing his orgasm.
“You’re so pretty.” I blurt, spewing the first thing that comes to mind as I look at him.
He really is, his hair is tousled from sleep and my hands, his eyes half lidded from pleasure and tattooed chest slightly damp.
He swears, bottoming out and coming hard without warning. His hand circles my clit fast, bringing my crashing down with him.
“Harry!” I cry, burying my head into the crook of his neck as I ride out the waves of pleasure.
“Good girl, Y/N.” He groans, still thrusting into me trying to prolong his orgasms.
The high slowly ebbs away, and he stays in me for a bit. Nothing but the sounds of our laboured breathing filling the room.
I think we don’t know what to say, after something like that happens— when it all comes on instinct and you’re without any clue on what it changes.
Our dynamic, though it was a love-hate kind of thing, it was a consistent one. You knew what to expect. Now that this has happened…
“I have no idea what you’re thinking right now.” He whispers, “and that kind of scares me.”
I lay quietly for a few heartbeats, “just… that was really good. And I’m not 100% prepared for what might happen after this, y’know. To us I guess.”
“Well. To keep it simple, I really like you— and that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had so…” he trails off, unsure where to go with the sentence.
“Ok— so this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship?” I sigh in a bit of relief.
“Of course not,” he pulls back to look at me, and a smile spreads across his face, “after all, we are adults.”
———
#best friend!harry#harry styles smut#best friends to lovers#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#fluff prompts#harry styles fanfiction#fanfiction#one direction#oneshots#1d#harries#love on tour#fbh#frat boy harry#prince hair harry
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Fake texts au- pt.15 bffs with the rookies+ "come pick me up I'm scared"
Okay, I was in my feels when I wrote this one, sooo- it's sad as shit 😭, this is a CW, I think?
| Masterlist |
"Well, I didn't ask," You responded to Logan, who kept you company as you walked from your dorm to your university in the UK, he had been struggling with jet lag as he was back home for the two-week break for the Vegas GP.
"Well, why didn't ya?" He called out, you told him to do jumping jacks to help go to sleep, you didn't know how it would help but the thought of him jumping around made you laugh.
"Mate, I've gotta call you back," you looked at the huge crowd of men and women with expensive cameras and microphones in front of her university's gates, "Bruv, there's gotta be a celebrity or someone dead."
"Okay," he said, panting, "I think it worked, imma go sleep," he cut the call.
"Scuse me, imma just pass through, to actually study here," you pushed through the crowd till someone grabbed your book bag and yelled, "IT'S HER- IT'S Y/N L/N."
And then, the chaos started.
The cameras began flashing till you couldn't see, mics shoved in your face making scarps and bruises as people pushed and pulled you, yelling questions in your face.
"How do you know the F1 drivers?" one yelled,
"Are you dating any of them?" came another,
"Is it true you're related to Fernando Alonso?" A woman asked, grabbing your hoodie.
The whirlwind went on for a few more minutes, you tried your best to get out of the storm without saying something that might negatively impact their reputations, but then came those questions.
"How's the cushy life since you've got baby Schumacher's pockets?" you heard someone yell.
You finally found an exit, that's it, just five more feet and you'd be free, you know you could outrun them, "Hey, y/n! Who fucks better?" Some guy called out from behind you.
"Your Mother," you yelled back, throwing a punch at the disgustingly proud-looking, fifty-something-year-old man. Shock rippled through the crowd where laughter had run at the question just a few seconds before.
You used the distraction to run back to your dorm room, only your phone in hand, your bag having been yanked off your back in the mess.
"What the fuck?" You panted as you saw your dormmates outside your room, cash in hand, you pushed them aside and ran in, only to find your laptop and iPad missing, along with the camera Lando had gifted to you, the signed 'inchident' from Max and Charles, the polaroid of you, oscar and Logan camping in when you were teenagers and the 'Build a bear' Arthur had gotten you with him saying an inside joke.
You felt your face warm as anger and tears pricked at you.
You turned around to find the unreadable faces of your dormmates, "Where the fuck is my stuff?" You asked, hoping it was all a joke like you hadn't just lost everything that gave you hope, that gave you happiness.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SHIT-" You yelled, slamming your hand on the room door, making your friends move back, one tried to speak, trying to make excuses, "DON'T CHAT TO ME, FUCK YOU-" you could hear your voice breaking, "fuck you," you did your best not to cry but it was becoming tough to not.
You ran out of the building, and despite their protests, you made your way through back alleys and corridors that only locals would know of, pulling up your hood in case anyone recognised you.
You thought of who you could call, Logan was in America, god you wished Logan was here with you, he wouldn't have let this happen in the first place, you laughed to yourself. Oscar and Arthur weren't around either. Max, Charles and Lando were all in Monaco, and you definitely not going to let Mick, someone you'd known barely for a month see you like this, and he wasn't in the UK.
You wiped your hands down your face, and dialled on your phone, "Alex..." your voice trembled against his cheerful greeting, making him worry, "Can you come pick me up please," you tried not to break down. How did it get to this?
"Yes, give me a few, are you okay? Y/n? Hey-" You cut the call, sending him your location. How were you asking for Alex's help? The same man who'd pat you awkwardly on your head every time he saw you. Someone who'd begun treating you like a little sister, along with Logan, bringing you food from the cafeteria, sneaking in Redbulls. Someone who you'd tease calling your older brother, making him cringe about 'I'm not that much older', so maybe he was the right one to go to.
You saw a car pull up and you knew it was Alex, seeing him through the driver's side window. You got into the car, only phone in hand and the clothes on your back. "Hey, what are-?" Came a protest from George, who was in the passenger seat, but stopped as soon as he saw you sitting in the seat, you really didn't want this to be your first impression.
The car didn't move, like he was waiting for some form of explanation, "You'll see," you whispered, making him sigh and drive.
As he passed the gates of your university, they saw what you had been running from, and both their eyes widened. Alex looked into the back-view mirror at your face and decided not to say anything. George on the other hand, began cursing the crowd, calling some people on his phone.
You couldn't make out what he was saying, too tired and too scared.
"Hey, y/n wake up," Alex moved your arm, startling you awake, you saw you were in a car park and got out the car, following mindlessly, behind George, who was typing his code in. If Alex noticed it, he kept it to himself, but you could tell he was concerned about something.
You followed as they led to the apartment, you sat on the couch, if it were a normal, visit you'd be off the walls about the beautiful place, with floor-to-ceiling windows and plants everywhere, terracotta furniture to match the gloomy blue-grey sky.
"Um, George's place was closer, hope that's okay," Alex spoke, softly like it would spook you. He was right.
"I'll make tea, then," George nodded and walked off.
"M-My phone's dead, I think," you sniffled out.
"Y/n, that's not really-" He began,
"Can I charge it please?" I asked, if I tried to pretend this disaster didn't happen, maybe it would be like it wouldn't have.
He took the phone out of your half-stretched hand, attaching it to a charging cord, a small 'ding' telling you that it was indeed charging.
"Y/n, what happened?" He asked sitting next to you on the sofa.
"They took everything," you began, making him frown, George too, was out of his depth, placing the tray with three mugs of tea, "M-My frie- roommates, sold my laptop and iPad, and all the things I'd gotten from you all." You began, but this time you couldn't hold in the tears that pricked at your eyes.
You cried into the sleeve of your hoodie, curling into yourself on the sofa.
All those memories were lost. You had photos all the way from your childhood on that laptop and now they were gone.
"Oh, um," He went in to hug you and patted your head, making you laugh.
''See! There we go!" He smiled wide, making you laugh more, "Here," he passed you a mug of tea, it had cooled off a little, so you could drink it.
"You punched someone?" Came George's voice, it was the only thing he'd said to you.
You looked sheepishly at your right fist, the knuckles of which had turned a nasty red.
"No worries, I'll go get a first-aid," He said, walking to get it, when he was back he sat you on your other side, "You know," he poured some anti-septic onto a cotton pad, "I think, you handled it quite well, they were some stupid questions," He said as he moved onto your face.
You hissed, "Wait, what?" You asked, "It's already on the net?" You felt another wave of anger and tears.
"Yup," Alex said, moving his phone to you, showing a reel on Instagram, where the man was asking you that question, edited with the 'your mom' sound and a 'thwack' when the punch landed, ending with an edit of you in cat ears and a high-pitched fast-paced song.
"What... the fuck?" You didn't know where to laugh or cry.
"Mate, why the edits?" George asked scoffing.
"Wait, check Twitter," You suggested suddenly seeing the hilarity of the situation, "ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You yelled, gulping the last of your tea, "YOUR MOTHER IS TRENDING??" it wasn't on top of the trending list but it was there.
"Y/n... I think you're going to love this," George showed something on his phone, they'd turned your voice into an audio, and there were already hundreds of videos being made on it on TikTok.
"Fuck my life."
.xX A few hours later Xx.
George had given one of his flannels, noticing how dirty your hoodie had gotten.
The three of you ordered takeout and watched The Walking Dead all afternoon, he genuinely reminded you of a posh London Mother.
In the middle of season 2, George got a call, "Hello-" He began but was cut off almost immediately and you could hear the man on the phone's voice till out.
"WHERE IS SHE?" Another voice yelled, "IS SHE OKAY??" All the sudden noise made George flinch and pull the phone away from him.
He quickly passed the phone off to you, and you were bombarded by three heavily accented Monganesque accents, "Hi, guys it's me," You responded making the call go silent for a second and then they all began screaming again, loudest was Arthur, then came Charlie's voice. Lastly, It was Lorenzo who got both the others to keep quiet.
You used the peaceful moment to excuse yourself to another room.
"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked and you replied with a small yes, he hummed and passed the phone.
"Y/n, oh my god, I saw the posts," Charles began, "Those people were stupid to attack you like that," He comforted you.
"Thank you, Charlie," You said, a small smile on your face.
You waited as words were exchanged in French and you heard footsteps on the other end of the line.
"I'm sorry Y/n, that should have never happened, it is all because of us," his voice rang sad.
"It's okay, Arthur, we'll talk about this when we're together okay?" You responded, and he kept apologising as he cut the call.
Next came Logan's call, just as you were about to call him, "What the fuck is wrong with people?" He questioned, his tone angry, "You could have gotten hurt. Like seriously hurt. This is bullshit." He yelled, but then his voice softened, "You aren't hurt are you?"
"No, not much, I've got a few bruises and cuts but all mint other than that." He hummed as you spoke, and began asking you other questions and you told him about what your roommates had done, you could hear that he was livid but kept trying to be calm for you.
And when Oscar called, that's when it finally hit you again, that feeling of losing everything that you held dear, "Y/n, please don't cry," came his voice from the other end, "Please don't cry while I'm away cause then I can't do anything about it," his voice broke.
"They took all our stuff, Osc, all the way from the first time we met to the last time we got McDonald's together, everything," you sniffled and you could hear the frown in his voice.
"I'm sure we can get it back, don't worry y/n, we'll figure it out, ya know, we've all got your back, speaking of which, you'd better call Max right away, he's with Lando, his bombarding my phone as we speak," He complained, returning some normalcy to your situation.
You cut the call and called Max, and it was Lando who spoke first, cursing at the media and complementing your punch and quick response and then Max took over.
"Firstly, are you okay?" He asked, making you say yes, "Secondly, I've got a lawyer ready, tell me and we'll fight this. We can find a way to get your stuff back." you didn't know what to say.
"Yes, yes, please," you spoke for a little longer before you had to excuse yourself. You had to call someone, someone you know who was going to be livid.
"Hiiiiii," You spoke into the phone, awaiting a response.
"Y/n, how are you, kiddo?" Your uncle's voice rang out. He had been taking care of you ever since you were a teenager, not that you needed much, a place to stay and school.
"I'm fine, it was bound to happen one day," you exhaled at the unfairness of it all.
"I know, I heard what your bastardas friends did," and you could hear the anger in his voice, "Names, and I will get it sorted," He asked making you giggle, he'd always been like this ever since you had showed up on his doorstep.
You told him not to do anything rash but that Max had gotten you a lawyer, he seemed proud of Max for that.
You told him you had to leave since it wasn't your phone you'd been using.
You walked inside, apologising for hogging the phone but George just waved his hand, too invested in whatever episode that was playing. He'd gotten out a bottle of wine (Of course he had,) and he and Alex were busy deep-diving into the show's lore.
He'd kept you a glass, which you gladly accepted.
As the day progressed, you took your leave, but not before George offering you the guest room, saying Alex would take the sofa, which made the other man kick the taller blonde, as you took your leave, having booked an Uber and hotel room for the week, you could still hear them play fighting.
As you were in the car, Mick called you, and you were surprised he had.
"Hey, Y/n! How are you?" He asked,
"Good, you?" You were good at pretending everything was okay, you got an A+ in coping mechanisms class in school!
"Can't be worse than, you know, punching someone," he laughed, you had realised, that the both of you had a sense of humour that really just clicked.
"Oh mate, that was the good part!" You made sure that your payment had gone through with the Uber driver and walked into the hotel. They already had your room ready (courtesy of George, you were sure,) and you only needed to show an ID to be led in, without any other questions.
"Yeah... I saw all the clips on Instagram," He sighed.
"It was kind of crazy, I can't even imagine how it must be for you guys!" You put the phone on speaker and looked through the room service options.
You were going to have lunch in your dorm's cafeteria but that loan had kind of fallen apart, and anyways tea and wine wasn't nearly enough to make you forget the shit show that happened today.
"Mate you won't believe what else happened," You told him about the laptop.
"What the fuck,"
"RIGHT- anyways, I hope they don't get into my drive 'cause I have some in there that is not for public eyes, like imagine they saw the video of your horrible Ghostface impression?" You laughed at him, making him remember the party.
"Oh, Please, it was amazing, I scared you!" He yelled,
"And then you shrieked when Logan did the same to you,"
"Well yes, but he was dressed as Anakin, y/n! I'm not competing with that!" He gasped, shivering at how the hair on his neck raised when Logan did the voice.
"Oh mate please, but that's not even the worst of it, I've got a video of Max and Charles, slow dancing, and literally everything Lando and Carlos do is incriminating."
"That is true, I didn't see them for half of the party," he insinuated.
"Well, you and Arthur were pretty busy seeing who could down more shots," You snickered.
"Well, it wouldn't have become that big if Oscar didn't egg us on!" He complained as he had for days after the party but all he got from Oscar was a smug smirk, with an evil look in his eyes whenever he did something like that.
You spoke till room service came in and then excused yourself to drown in pasta and Netflix.
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#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1#charles leclerc#lando norris#max verstappen#george russell#george russel x reader#alex albon#fernando alonso#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x reader#f1 smau#smau#social media au#fake texting au#fake texts#fake text#lorenzo leclerc
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Original Ask: second here's an erling fic idea. so as you know norway lost to spain in the euro's match, which means erling will obviously be dejected and quite depressed that his country couldn't make it, so what if his girlfriend takes advantage of the days before the premier league starts, and plans a sweet getaway for the two of them. (@findingnemosworld)
Word Count: 667 words
(author's note: i love writing about erling !!! thank you for another lovely request @findingnemosworld 🫶 im sure my haaland anon will like this as well !!)
International breaks were always difficult. However, the added pain of coming home, knowing your team hadn’t qualified, made it worse.
Erling sat dejectedly in the changing rooms. The 1-0 loss to Spain meant Norway hadn’t qualified. He felt like he had let his country down. Checking his phone, he saw a text from his girlfriend that read:
‘So proud of you my love! You played amazingly, can’t wait to see you when you get back home <3’
He sighed. Erling knew she was just saying that to make him feel better. Although knowing she thought he played well made him feel immensely better. He said his goodbyes to his teammates and headed back to his hotel to pack his bags.
After the usual airport experience, Erling arrived back in Manchester. He got out of the taxi that had brought him home and knocked on the door of the house he shared with his girlfriend. The cold air of the UK nipped at his skin as he waited for her to open the front door.
Wrapped up in one of his hoodies, Y/N opened the door and threw her arms around her boyfriend. She knew he would be disappointed by the loss and she wanted to make him feel better.
Erling pulled his bags inside and closed the door behind him. His girlfriend looked up at him, her eyes full of sympathy.
“Go take a warm shower and then we can watch some television”, she told him, "It’ll make you feel better, I know you hate flying.”
He nodded wordlessly and moved slowly up the stairs. Erling undressed himself and stepped into the stream of warm water.
His mind was running through all the things he could’ve done differently. He felt fully responsible for their loss in his heart, even though his head was telling him he wasn’t. He finished up in the shower, got dressed, and walked downstairs to where Y/N was sitting down waiting for him.
The girl opened her arms and gestured for him to come and sit with her. Erling crawled into her outstretched arms and rested his head on her chest. Y/N ran her fingers through his damp, freshly-washed hair.
“It wasn’t your fault, my love. Please don’t blame yourself. You’ll only make yourself feel worse.”
Erling sighed, his eyes stung with unshed tears, “I know, nydelig, I just can’t help but feel I could’ve played better."
Y/N sighed. Her heart hurt for the man she loved so dearly. Erling put his heart and soul into football, and she wished he would recognise when he had done his best.
The next few days were miserable. Erling moped around the house, barely speaking a word to his girlfriend. Y/N had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had booked a getaway to a cabin in a beautiful forest and was about to tell her boyfriend.
“Erling, honey?” She said, knocking on the door to his office. She let herself in, and her boyfriend took his headphones off.
“I have a surprise for you,” She told him, handing an envelope over to him.
“What is it?”
“Open it,” she replied, gesturing towards the envelope that was now in his large hands.
Erling gently ripped open the envelope that he’d been given. He pulled out the piece of paper that was inside and scanned over the text that was written.
“We’re going away?”
“Yes, I think it will be good for you to get away from football for a while and just get back to your normal self. It breaks my heart to see you upset my love.”
Erling got out of his chair and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. He nestled his head into the crook of her neck and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.
“Thank you kjære, thank you for everything.”
The pair remained in each others arms for a while, grateful to have one another to pick them back up when things weren’t perfect.
#erling haaland x reader#erling x reader#erling haaland#fanfiction#fanfic#football#hot footballers#manchester city#man city#request#by ts1m1kas
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Good Second Hand Golf Clubs Sale Ormskirk In UK
Good Second Hand Golf Clubs - Exclusive collection of second hand golf clubs - irons, drivers, fairways, hybrids etc., find pre-owned golf clubs in excellent condition, buy used golf clubs of popular brands.
#Good Second Hand Golf Clubs#Second Hand Golf Clubs and Bag#Second Hand Clubs UK#Second Hand Senior Golf Clubs#Cheap Second Hand Golf Clubs#Buy Second Hand Golf Clubs#2nd Hand Golf Clubs for Sale#Second Hand Golf Clubs UK#Second Hand Golf Clubs for Sale
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Car Rides
Summary: An old memory of Simon’s resurfaces during a car ride to Crash’s house.
Warnings: none
Pairing(s): Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader (Platonic)
Word Count: 1,025
Note: No uses of (Y/N), some angst but it’s barely there.
a/n: hello hello! back with another fic :) ngl this one made me kind of sad but still enjoyable to write. I have a set of headcanons that I wrote along with this fic but i decided that I’ll put it into the next post instead :0c !! anyways, i hope y’all like it and would love to hear feedback!
“Keys.” He demanded.
Quickly, you pull your hand back, the other coming up to shield it. The man in front of you narrows his eyes but puts his hands back into his hoodie pocket. You open your hand, revealing a set of keys, along with a lego Darth Vader keychain. Flipping over the key fob, your black Jeep Wrangler makes the distinct sound of itself unlocking. “After you, LT.”
He opens the back passenger seat to set down his duffle bag before moving to the front. While he does that, you get yourself onto the driver's seat and start the vehicle. You check your surroundings before backing out of the parking spot and after a series of turns, you two are on the road, exiting the airport.
“Apologies about earlier, Simon,” you say, after a couple minutes of silence. “I know you want to drive but love this car way too much. Don’t want to crash it, ya know.” He glares at you as you let out an airy chuckle.
“And what do you mean by that, Sergeant?”
“Remember Las Almas? How you slammed on the breaks so fuckin’ hard that I almost went through the window, for the second time? Or that time in Moscow, where you proceeded to hit every curb you saw and we got pulled over?” You glance at him. He stares back at you, offended. And even with a facemask, it’s evident that he’s scowling at you.
Looking back at the road, you lightly elbow his arm. “Don’t worry, LT. You’re great at a lot of things.” You pause, weighing out the option of whether or not to push his buttons more before saying, “Just not driving. Or piloting. Like last month, with the helico-”
“That’ll do!” Simon raises his voice.
Palms on the steering wheel, you open your hands as a signal of surrender. “I’m just jesting, Simon.” You give him a half-hearted smile. He sinks down into his seat, with his arms crossed.
45 minutes passed and the only sound you hear are the cars on the road. Simon looks out of the window, taking sight of the buildings rushing by. In the distance, he can see the large mountain range.
The whole team was given a month of leave after the last mission went up in flames. Literally, burning helicopters and all. While the guys usually went back to the UK, you had invited them to your mountain home in Colorado. Ghost initially declined but after you and Soap begged on your knees, he reluctantly agreed. And now he regrets it after you made fun of his driving skills. But at least it was just you and not the rest of the team. Actually, he’s grateful that they’re flying in tomorrow. Didn’t want to handle three idiots in a car.
“I got a CD folder in the glove box,” You break the silence. “It’s your pick too. Long drives are better with music.”
Simon gives you a nod and begins flipping through the case. He recognizes most of the albums, and taking a closer look, some of the art on them are flaking off.
“Never thought you’d still have CDs this old,” he comments.
“Half of them are my grandpa’s. I’m just adding on to it.”
He hums in response. Spotting a maroon colored disk, he rotates it, reading ‘Queen: Greatest Hits’. Carefully pulling it out of its pocket, he hands it to you. Left hand on the wheel, you stick your finger in the middle and glance at it. Nodding, you slide it into the car player.
“Good choice.”
“Brits have good music.”
“I agree with that.”
Flicking your eyes down to the display screen, you skip the first eight tracks. Without looking, you can tell that Simon is giving you a disapproving look. “We’ll come back to it, promise. Just want to listen to this first.”
He turns his eyes back on the road before him, the first couple notes of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ playing out. They’re in the mountains now, the roads becoming more twisty. Slowly down a bit on the turns, you let the windows down a couple inches. He hears you quietly sing along with the song. Rolling his eyes, Simon leans back on his seat again. Again, looking out the window, enjoying the greenery. It reminds him of the long drives to his aunt's house. Green blurs of evergreen trees passing by. Turning his head to look at you, his heart picks up the pace.
He doesn’t see you. Instead, it was a woman in her early thirties. The driver window slightly opened, leaving her light brown hair flying behind her ears. Hands tapping on the steering wheel on beat with the music. Hazel eyes meeting his. There were bags under them, dark circles hidden by makeup. She smiles at him, little wrinkles appearing on the corner of her eyes, along with two dimples, one of each side of her smile. Just like his. Opening her mouth, she sings along with the song,
“Ooh, you make me live
Whenever this world is cruel to me
I got you to help me forgive
Ooh, you make me live now, honey
Ooh, you make me live.”
His mom stops singing. “Simon!” she calls out. “Come on, love. Sing with your ma!”
He’s too stunned to say anything, he just stares at her. “Simon?” Her smile drops, eyebrows furrowed with worry.
“Simon?” Her voice sounds muffled.
“Simon?!” It’s like echoes now.
“Lieutenant Riley?!” That one snapped him out.
Heart beating like a drum, he opens his eyes, staring at the bottom of his hoodie before looking back up. It’s just you, Crash, his sergeant. Not his mother. But the worried look you give him is identical to hers.
You give him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to wake you up LT.” His eyebrows go up with confusion, he didn’t know he was even sleeping. “We’re here.”
Simon steps out of the jeep, closing the door behind him. Taking a look of his surroundings, he glances up at the towering evergreen trees, just like the ones in his childhood. Just like the ones at home.
#daisygirlwrites#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley
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Holding you
Pairing : John Price x F!Reader
Summary: After months apart from each other, nothing better than waking up with the love of your life, and helping him with his.... "little problem".
You can either read it as a standalone, or as part of my Mini MacTavish verse, continuation after Come back to me.
Warning: Explicit. Smut, slight angst.
I apologise for any inaccuracies describing military related stuff.
A/N : This was an extension of a little midnight drabble I wrote a while ago thanks to my midnight muse @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world. I hope you will enjoy this Price ramble.
“masterlist”
You slowly stirred awake as you feel someone gently caressing your cheek.
Eyes fluttering open, you saw the beautiful blue eyes of your husband, gazing down at you lovingly.
"Morning love." He greeted you in his morning husky voice." Had a good sleep??
"Hmmm hmm." You close your eyes with a smile, snuggling closer to him, savouring his gentle touch. Oh how you have missed him.
You haven’t seen each other for months. Seven months, fourteen days. But who's counting?
Apart from being absolute workaholics, fate seems to be determined to interfere with the two of you. From the tumultuous courtship, near death experiences, now trying to keep the marriage intact with so much time apart from each other.
When you are home from your deployment, he is already flying halfway across the world, ready for his next mission. When he arrived back in the UK, you were on your way to meet up with your team with KorTac.
Communication was hard. A little ten second voicemail in your inbox will be the last thing you heard from him for weeks. And a quick “I love you” text send out to him before going into a black op mission.
You will always find a little handwritten post-it note, with his worn shirt on the kitchen table when you come home between missions. John isn’t a man with many words, but you can still feel his emotions conveyed through the short sentences, how much he misses you, how much he loves you and wishing you were with him.
Sometimes you will wake up from a nightmare, dreaming of Laswell showing up at your front door, with John’s dog tag and his personal belongings. One look at her face you knew what had happened.
You cried yourself to sleep every time, wearing his shirt, curling up, inhaling the faint residue cigar and gunpowder scent and trying to imagine his strong arm around you.
It was only two days ago you received a call from Laswell. Seeing her name showing up on your caller ID sends your mind into an endless spiral. She never calls you unless it was for any urgent business. Or an emergency. Or something has happened to one of the men. Or….
You always wake up right before she opens her mouth and delivers the bad news,silent scream that is stuck in your throat, heart pounding, tears streaming down your face,panic sets in until you realise you are in your own cot, in the middle of a shared tent on a mission.
Horangi and König will always know what happened the next day, with your red rimmed and dark baggy eyes. None of them are the type that will give you verbal comfort, but a bag of Korean snacks which you mentioned once that was your favourite and a little tin of handmade sweets will appear on your cot at the end of the day.
You always smile at their thoughtfulness.
“Are you going to pick up that call?” Horangi looking over your shoulder, “ Laswell? Must be important.”
Flexing your hand, you shook your head, trying to dispel the negative thought that was muddling your brain before nodding.
Answering with a wavering voice, grabbing tight to the wedding ring underneath your shirt that is chained together with your dog tag, expecting the worst.
You must have sounded more distraught than expected, “John is fine. I am just letting you know the men are on their way back, they should land by late afternoon.“ She reassured you immediately.
“Go. Just submit the report by this weekend.” König pushed you out of the office as soon as he overheard the conversation. He knew how anxious you were to get back home.
You took the first flight you can get your hand on to the UK, drove straight from the airport to the base at Credenhill, despite your own weariness, you want to be there to greet your husband as soon as he lands.
Pulling into the car park of the base, you caught a glimpse of the helicopter coming into landing.
You don’t know how long the two of you have been standing there for, until the other men came over and gave you a slight pat on the back, interrupting the reunion.
The guard at the gate recognises you and you run towards the landing pad as soon as they process and issue you with a visitor’s pass.
You felt your heart going to burst the moment you saw him walking out from the helo, finally being able to see him physically, safe and sound.
“JOHN!” you yelled out to him, catching his attention. Turning around, surprise was evident on his face as you barreled into his embrace. Grabbing tight onto his vest, you burst out crying. All the months contained worry, fear, doubts and longing emotions released all in one go. You heard John murmuring words of assurances into your ears, feeling of his slight unkempt beard caressing against your face as he peppers you with kisses,tightens his arm around you.
Smiling sheepishly, leaving John’s embrace to give each of the men a tight hug, glad all of them made it back in one piece.
“We know how much you miss the Captain. Don’t break the bed from too much fun tonight!!!” Gaz teased as they waved goodbye to you and John. He rolled his eyes while your face was burning up like a furnace, from the embarrassment and thinking what was to come that night.
A soft kiss on the lip, bringing you back from reverie, John adjusted himself slightly, sliding his hand down towards your breast and thigh." Well, since you are awake.... "giving you another kiss, this time with more passion and sliding his tongue into your mouth, before breaking apart, "I think you should help me with my... little problem down here. " he grinds against you as he emphasises the word little problem.
You let out a chuckle, teasing him,“ Last night wasn’t enough for you??”
“I will never get enough from my beautiful wife.” His voice dripping with both sincerity and need.
He slowly trails his kisses down your neck towards your chest, pausing to caress the bites and bruises that are spread all over your neck and shoulder.
“… sore?” Murmuring with a hint of guilt in his voice, regretting being rough on you the previous night.
You never seen him so needy and rough before, releasing all the frustration, the pent up energy of not being able to see you, to be there with you physically and emotionally for such a long time. He made you cum twice before reaching the bedroom, and the countless times during the night you begged him again and again to reassure you he is there, in your arm, limbs intertwine with each others, not just some figment of imagination and dreams you wake up again and again from, to an empty cold bed.
Shaking your head as you card your finger through his messy morning hair,drifting down to his beard, smiling with silent reassurance for him to continue on.
Kneading and sucking each of the breasts with the utmost care, making sure he isn’t causing more pain. You let out a contented sigh as he slowly pushes your legs apart, running his tongue languidly across your already damp slit.
‘John… Love…” grabbing onto the bed sheet, pleading with him to give you more, to quench that fire he is stirring up within.
“Patience. I want to just enjoy…” lapping up more of your wetness that is sipping out between your slit, “tasting you. Feeling you.” His eyes shifted up to meet with you for a moment, “ Loving you.”
You sucked in a big breath of air at his words, holding back a sob. All you can think of is how lucky you are, to have such a wonderful man, who cherishes you, accepting and putting up with all your faults, ( as the 141 men once mentioned Price was probably the only one that can hold you back on a leash to contain your recklessness.) always aims to please you, putting your needs before his.
In a dazed post orgasm mind, you see him crawling back up towards you, stroking your face before positioning his already dripping hard cock and pushing into your still sensitive core.
In contrast to the frantic sex the night before, peeling each other’s clothes off as soon as you pass through the threshold of the door, hands roaming everywhere, desperate for each other’s touch, how you want him to be inside you, filling that void you've been missing for the last few months.
Now he is just taking his time to relish the short time together. Both of you know it won’t be too long before duty calls again, splitting the two of you apart.
You don’t want to think that far. Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, you nudge his shoulder, for him to lean back so you can push yourself up, adjusting yourself to straddle him.
You clench down hard as he hits you in a sweet spot in this new position, eliciting a moan from him. You smile lazily, rolling your hips, arms around his neck, one hand lightly caressing the nape of his neck, determined to return the favour, making sure he is enjoying it as much as you do. His hand wanders down towards your butt, grabbing both cheeks, pulling you close to him as he can.
You can feel him getting close as he rolls his head back, breathing starting to get erratic, his hip slamming up towards you, trying to chase the high.
“It’s ok love.. just let it go…I want to feel you inside me.. coat me with your hot cum, show you how much you love me…” You whispered into his ear, enticing him. Tipped over the edge with your words, he let out a loud groan as he filled you up inside. With a few more thrust from him as he rides out his orgasm, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, biting down hard on his shoulder,reaching your own high.
“Ready to go again?? I don’t think my problem has been solved… with just one round” He asked with his raspy voice as you felt his cock twitching inside you, getting hard again. You laughed , and leaned in to give him a deep kiss before letting him lowering you back into the bed.
You and Price didn't get out of bed until way past noon.
If you are reading this as part of Mini MacTavish verse... Mini and Price are both absolute workaholics, spending more time away from each other than together until they both retire from front line. in my H/C, they never ended up having any kids. by choice or not by choice? you decide. But they are happily to shower their love on their nieces and nephews ( the little rascals Soap has produced lol ).
I apologise for bit of jumble of the smut part. I have no idea why every single time I start writing for Price x Reader, I am always in a slump depressive stage. but hey, I had bit of fun writing, I might revisit and tidy this up when I am in a better place mentally.
Tag :
@floral-force
@homicidal-slvt
@captainpriceslover
@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world
#captain john price#john price x you#john price x reader#john price imagine#john price#captain price x reader#captain price#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#captain john price x female reader#call of duty#Mini Mactavish verse#call of duty fanfic
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Sugar Mommies Season 2, Pt:1
My finger slipped...whoopsie...
Hi my loves! Welcome back to my Sugar Mommies Universe and a big welcome back to our lovely Trio!❤️
Updates (hopefully) will be every Sunday, 9pm GMT time (UK) unless I state otherwise.
I’ll still use my old tag list, so hopefully it’ll work! If you’d like to be tagged, comment below and let me know❤️
My work is for 18+ and over. No minors allowed.
Hope you all enjoy
Love,
Livvy
❤️💋❤️💋
“No. No, no, no.” You shove your free hand frantically into your bag. “Please, not now, c’mon.”
Your keys seem to be doing everything in their willpower to hide from you; knowing that you’re desperate to get to the bathroom.
You can almost hear them saying, “fuck you!” from their hiding spot.
You really regret wearing shorts so close to your period but you had nothing else and everything you owned needed washing.
And now you’re sure you’re about three seconds from starting -- right there in the hallway.
You’d leave a trail of blood as you scamper into your apartment.
Your neighbours would probably slip in it…
“Fuck.”
Being lazy has finally come to bite you on the ass.
You jerk your bag in an attempt to dislodge the keys into appearing, and in the process nearly drop the tray of hot drinks that are settled on top of your laptop in your other hand.
The barista, when you had told her it was okay, had given you a look of complete bewilderment; and after promising you lived literally down the street, she had listened; placing the tray of drinks on top of your laptop which was nestled in the crook of your arm.
You’re sure she called you and idiot as you slowly left the cafe.
It was a disaster waiting to happen.
Really.
God, why didn’t you just buy the stupid laptop bag?
You know exactly where it is: in your Amazon basket, right under the moisturising face mask that you’ve been eyeing for weeks.
Karma.
Through and through.
That’s what this was.
Karma for deciding that alcohol was more important than a new laptop bag.
You sigh.
When you can’t find them for a second time, a spike of fear hits you as you worry that you left your keys on the counter when ordering your drinks.
But no, you wouldn’t have.
Why would you have?
You paid with your cell; Apple Pay being both a godsend and a curse at this point.
When you finally see the corner of the keychain gifted to you by Wanda, you let out a very audible squeal; fingers grasping at it so fast as if it was seconds away from burrowing away into the depths of your bag again.
“Gotcha!”
You throw open your front door and speed inside.
It should have been smooth sailing from there.
You’ve walked the route from your front door to the bathroom countless times.
Only today, there’s an obstacle in the way.
Rather, two obstacles.
A pair of shoes you had left carelessly the day previous.
The same shoes you had bought over the weekend and had rubbed your feet raw.
And after suffering all day, you had torn them off your feet and dumped them right there in the middle of the floor - stating that you’d move them later.
You never did.
It’s those stupid shoes that you end up tripping over.
One second you’re storming into the room and the next, your ankle snaps to the left and your balance just goes.
Everything that you had in your arms topple.
The drinks slide from your laptop and splatter onto the floor; as well as splashing against your very white walls; spraying them with dots of brown and black.
Your momentum takes you down.
You stumble first, laptop slamming loudly on the wooden flooring, and as you fall to your knees, a small scream passes your lips.
You land on your hands and knees, groaning.
Your bag slides down your arm and falls in a heavy heap beside you, with strands of your hair stuck in its handle.
You can’t help the wince as you can feel some of your hair get torn from your scalp.
“Mother fucker!”
You slam your hand down hard on the floor before snatching one of your shoes and launching it across the apartment.
“Stupid! Useless! Shoes!”
You get to your feet and, after kicking the other shoe as far away as possible, you hobble to the kitchen to get a towel.
Your ankle is throbbing.
Like it hurts.
From your bag, you hear the text notification go off.
Whoever it is can wait; you’ve got a shit storm to sort out.
It surprisingly takes a long time to clean up the coffee and hot chocolate from the wall and the floor - your cheap kitchen towel doing nothing to soak up the liquid.
Finally, you manage to get it all.
Even if your walls are still stained.
That’s another problem you’ll deal with later…once it dries.
You then check your laptop, which, mercifully, survived the drop to the floor and you let out a huge sigh of relief.
Your day finally is looking your way.
You quickly dash to the toilet and sigh in relief.
Your period hasn’t come yet.
There is no crime scene in your underwear.
Which means you're one day closer to the weekend where you can be reunited with your women.
Or rather…railed by your women.
It’s been so long.
A long and agonising 7 days without them.
But Christ.
7 days to you it felt like 7 years.
You check your cell as you pee, scrolling up your previous messages to re read their words.
Nat sent yesterday (19:06): I can’t wait to kiss that little dimple when we get home.
Wands sent yesterday (19:07): Or the freckle on your inner thigh…
Carol sent yesterday (19:07) I just can’t wait to kiss you, baby.
“Fuck.”
The last message sent to you was from Carol, this morning before you went and started your day: have a good time in class my love, speak to you later xo
And you hadn’t had time to reply to her, to them.
You had been running late - madly dashing out the door behind MJ, screaming at her to grab her keys before you vanished down the stairs.
You nibble your bottom lip as you debate texting back.
You know they’re busy; that’s why they had to go away.
A boring business meeting that you couldn’t tag along to because of your own equally boring classes.
You decide to text back; if they’re busy they’re busy.
They will text you back when they can.
So here you are; sitting on the toilet, texting Carol back almost eight hours later.
Y/N (17:29): Hiii, sorry I was running late for class so I completely forgot to reply! Hope you three are okay, text me when you can xox
You check the other message.
MJ (17:25): I’ll be home later. Fancy take out? Cos I fucking do.
You finish off in the bathroom and type your reply to your best friend.
Y/N (17:31): If I ever say no, drop me off at the nearest hospital yes? What take out do you want?
You limp back into the living room before making yourself stop.
“Ice. I need ice.”
Letting out a groan of frustration, you awkwardly amble to the kitchen; grabbing the first thing from the freezer that you can find.
Once you’ve wrapped it up in a kitchen towel, you limp back to your sofa and finally, fucking finally, rest your ankle with something cold.
Your head falls back and your eyes close.
A sigh escaping your lips.
God today just really has been something else.
Fucking you over at any chance it could get; the only good thing being that you didn’t get your period.
When your phone buzzes, you can’t help the smile.
MJ (17:33): Well I’m at our usual. Same as always?
Y/N (17:34): Have I told you lately that I love you?
The dots appear almost immediately.
MJ (17:34): yes but say it again, my ego loves it baby.
Y/N (17:34): I love you MJ. Now bring mommy her food, she is starving.
MJ (17:35): Okay two things. 1) keep whatever kinks you and your trio have between the four of you because 🤢 b) I know for a fact they’re the ones that make you call them mommy. I’m not an idiot, Y/N/N.
Y/N (17:36): Shut up you idiot.
MJ (17:36): You know I’m right
Tossing your phone to the side, you grab the TV remote and flick unenthusiastically through the channels before settling on Netflix.
You choose your comfort show and, after checking your aching ankle, you settle down for the night.
Only, five minutes into your relaxation, your phone starts to ring.
You answer it almost immediately.
“What MJ?”
“Hey, I’m just checking you’re at home. Like our place.”
“Where else would I be…” You let out a laugh. “Oh hang on, sorry I didn’t tell you? I’m in Jamaica.”
“God you’re a fucking idiot.”
“Don’t ask stupid questions then.” You reply.
“I was making sure you weren’t at your girls’ place.” MJ replies. “I’m not getting all this food to waste it.”
“I’m at our place. Why would I stay at theirs? We’ve only just started dating, how weird is that?”
“You’re gay. Isn’t the time frame for you guys like sped up? You should be getting married by now!”
You burst out laughing.
“Shut up.” You reply.
You move your ankle and wince.
“Hey, how long are you gonna be? I might have a shower to ease my ankle.”
“Your ankle? What did you do?”
“Tripped over my shoes.”
“The ones you said you’d move yesterday?” MJ asks.
“That’s not important.”
“Are you okay?”
“I - yes. I survived. Our drinks didn’t…”
You hear MJ’s gasp and roll your eyes.
“Did you spill my hot chocolate?”
“Wow. No, MJ. When I was crashing to the ground, I made sure to save your precious hot chocolate from any harm.”
“I can’t even tell -”
“- y’know I actually threw my laptop away…just to ensure your drinks safety.”
MJ is silent for a moment.
“Dick.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“I’m never going to get that drink from you, am I?”
“You will, eventually…”
“...what? Yeah okay hang on.”
“Who are you talking to?” You ask.
“Sorry, I’m trying to talk to two people.” MJ replies. “Er, have a bath. For your ankle. It’ll help more.”
“A bath? You check the time on your phone. “How long will you be, MJ? I might need help getting out…”
MJ snorts. “About half an hour. I’m not helping your naked ass out of the bath.”
“You're my best friend. It’s your duty.”
MJ is silent for a second before replying, “yeah fine, whatever.”
“Did you know that takeout trays float in the bath?” You ask.
This time MJ doesn’t even reply, and even has the cheek to put you on hold.
You scoff, looking at your phone again in disbelief.
When MJ finally takes you off hold, you’re just about to hit the first chorus of All By Myself by Celine Dion.
“What are -- are you seriously singing right now? Y/N/N ow! You’re too loud!”
You giggle.
“Aw, I was just getting to the best part, MJ.”
“Why were you singing?” She asks.
“You put me on hold! What else was I supposed to do?”
“Wait patiently like a normal person?”
“We both know I can’t do that, MJ.” You say. “Why did you put me on hold?”
“I was trying to order dinner. You can be very distracting when you want to be.”
You smile.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Mmm.” MJ says. “Go and have your bath, Y/N. I’ll be home in a bit with our food and we both know it doesn’t do well once it’s cold.”
“Don’t forget the -”
“...fortune cookies I know. Bye, dork.”
“Bye!”
*
You have no idea how long you’ve been in the bath for.
Except for quite some time.
Your phone - God, you need to sort out a new one with a decent battery - had pretty much died within ten minutes of you not so gracefully getting into the bath.
And even though you had wanted to move, to go and charge it; the thought of getting up was just not an option to you.
Which meant you were stuck in the bath with no form of entertainment.
Which had made you groan as you sunk further into the bubbles.
Which had then resulted in your eyes falling shut and you waking with a start when you heard the unmistakable squeak of the front door to your apartment opening.
You have to blink a couple of times to make your eyes work, completely disoriented as to where you are.
You lean forwards and snatch your phone from the side of the bath; heart stopping when it nearly drops into the water.
“That could have been bad.”
You remember it’s dead and throw the useless thing to the bathroom floor, where it thuds loudly.
“Shit.”
The water isn’t cold so you can’t have been asleep that long.
“MJ?” You call out.
There’s no reply and your fight or flight mode instantly kicks in.
You’re out of the bath within seconds.
The second you apply weight to your ankle you nearly topple down, teeth burrowing into your bottom lip to stifle the scream you want to let out.
If there is an intruder in your apartment, you can’t alert them to where you’re hiding.
Even though you threw your phone to the ground about five seconds previous.
“Yeah, they already know where I am.”
And you’re suddenly very aware that you’re naked.
You stumble to the door, snatching the towel from its hanger and wrap it firmly around your shivering body.
Trickles of water dribble down your face.
“Fuck…” You should have charged your phone. “MJ…”
You hear footsteps stomping down the corridor and automatically back away from the door, heart hammering.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”
You look around for anywhere to hide and of course, you find none, except for the bath that you had just been in.
You could drag the shower curtain across and pray they don’t check behind -
There’s a knock on the door.
Your head snaps up.
A polite intruder?
“Y/N?”
“MJ?”
The door handle turns and you prepare yourself to tackle whoever it is on the other side of the door.
Only, it’s blonde hair you catch sight of.
Not MJ’s curly locks.
Or a faceless intruder.
“Carol?!”
“Hi kitten!”
Carol smiles when she fully sees you, letting out a laugh when you slam your body into hers for a bone crushing hug.
“Happy to see me, baby?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” You peer up at her and grin. “So happy to see you!”
Carol manages to drag you away a little, giving her enough room to work so she can lean down and finally, fucking finally kiss you.
You automatically melt into her, as if it was the first kiss you had shared.
One of her strong arms holds you tightly whilst her other hand wanders down to grip your ass.
“I’ve missed you too, baby.” She kisses you again. “Next time I think I’ll pack you into my suitcase. You’re only small, I think you’ll fit.”
You go to roll your eyes but stop at the last second.
Carol notices and gives your nose a quick peck.
“Such a good girl, don’t want to be punished already, do we?” Her eyes wander down your body. “Did you dress up just for me?”
You blush.
“I - I…”
“God, you’re adorable.” Carol winks at you before she looks at your feet. “MJ said you hurt your ankle, are you okay?”
“How did you -”
“I was with her, kitten. Why do you think she rang?”
Your eyes widen.
“You - you were with her?”
“Who do you think gave her the idea of a bath, kitten?”
If your eyes were able to go any wider, they would.
Instead, you opt to shove her shoulder instead.
Stumbling a little into the wall, Carol lets out a chuckle.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back? I missed you!”
“I’m sorry, baby. I am.” She drags you towards her, holding you just right so you don't have to apply much pressure to your injured ankle. “I wanted to surprise you…”
“Well I am surprised…” You can’t help but pout. “Even if you did scare the sh - the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry baby.” She kisses your cheek. “I brought us food…”
Your eyes lighten up.
Carol trails her lips along your jaw before dipping into the crook of your neck; where her teeth graze at your skin.
When she bites down, you let out a shaky gasp, fingers tightening on her body.
“Although…there’s someone I’d rather eat right now…”
She lifts you too easily, dragging you up her body until your legs wrap around her waist.
Her lips never leave your skin.
“But…” Your hips twitch. “...dinner…”
“If it tastes like shit after I’m done with you then I’ll buy us more food. I’ll cook us a five course meal, I don’t fucking care.” Carol growls, carrying you from the bathroom.
She walks you both to your bedroom as if she’s walked it hundreds of times and when she deposits you onto your bed, you can’t help a startled scream.
“Mommy and daddy will be home in a few days. Your captain got sent home earlier.” Carol says, prying the towel from your body. “Is that okay with you baby? You’ve got my full and undivided attention…think you can handle that?”
The towel is opened to reveal your still damp body to her and you have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself moaning.
“C’mon now, little one. Use your words.” She straddles your hips, not caring about her own clothes getting wet. “Otherwise your captain will stop and she will go and sort dinner out.”
“Icanhandleit.”
“What was that, baby girl? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
You glare at her.
“Tell me again. Go on.”
Carol’s fingers circle your nipples.
“Or I’ll stop. It’s that simple.”
“I can handle it.”
“You can handle it?”
“Yes.”
“You can handle just having me give you my full attention, baby girl?” Her fingers tickle down your body until they settle at your entrance; where she slowly circles and taunts you.
“Yes.”
“You’re already so wet, baby. Why is that?”
“You.”
“Oh baby.” She pouts down at you. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
“Please.” You whisper.
Carol pushes one finger slowly into you, eyes dark as she watches you.
“You’ve been such a good girl. So good for me. Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
“I - I’ve missed you too, captain.”
You try to sit up but Carol shoves you back down, slamming her lips onto yours before pumping her finger roughly into you.
When she adds another, you gasp against her and Carol takes full advantage by shoving her tongue into your mouth.
Carol’s fingers curl inside of you and your hips move against her.
“Let’s slow things down, baby; I don’t want to rush this.”
It feels almost like her fingers stop completely when she slows down.
You whine.
“I know, baby, I know. Let the captain enjoy this. Let her enjoy you.”
Her thumb presses down onto your clit and your head falls back.
Fuck.
“Did you touch yourself while we were away, baby?”
Carol’s eyes are so dark, you find yourself getting lost in them.
A small but sharp slap brings you back to reality.
“Answer me.”
“What was the question again?”
Her hand gently presses against your throat.
“Did you touch yourself whilst we were gone, little one?”
“No.”
“Because you’re our good girl.” Carol places her face at your neck and begins to suck. “Such a good girl. Listening to her instructions…doing as she’s told…”
Your breath hitches.
“Do you think you can follow another instruction for me?” she asks.
It takes all of your effort to nod.
“Sit on my lap and ride my fingers.”
Your cheeks redden.
“Can you do that for me? You’ve been such a good girl for me. You deserve to be on my lap.”
“O-okay.”
When Carol removes her fingers, they’re glistening but not just in your juices.
You’re mortified and quickly cover your face when you see your blood coating her fingers.
“I am -- I’m so sorry!”
You try to move, to close your legs and to get yourself as far away from Carol as possible but the blonde isn’t having it.
She refuses to let you move.
Pinning you down with one hand as she inspects her other.
“Oh baby, don’t be embarrassed.” Her fingers plunge back into you. “I’m not done with you yet.”
When will MJ get her hot chocolate? Stay tuned to find out!
Tag List:
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#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#carol danvers#reader insert#wanda x reader#carol x reader#natasha x reader#y/n#natasha x y/n#wanda x y/n#carol x y/n#no minors#not suitable for minors#minors begone#sugar mommies#sugar mommies season 2#sugar mommies universe
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Text
Quiet night in.
Prompt: After Josh has been away on a cheap v expensive video for 4 days, then having to stay for another 4 due to the flight delaying Y/n is feeling rather touched starved as not many of her close friends live in London, so when josh got back he found her to be rather clingy.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut,
“Ah shit- behz, I have stuff booked-“ Josh scoffs as he looks at Ethan.
“Mate- I can’t do anything about it, and it’s a bit hard finding a flight or flights from Poland to anywhere in the uk at all- so-“ he rambles on as josh rolls his eyes and looks at JJ and Tobi who both look pissed.
An hour later they have some news on their flights.
“Listen- I’m sorry lads but the best it seems like I can do is Tuesday night.” Ethan says, irritation present in his tone.
“Ah fuck off! Tuesday?” JJ shouts.
Josh runs his hands through his hair and sighs, picking up his phone to call Y/n. On the second ring she answers.
“Hey josh! I’m just finishing this recording, are you on your way back?” His girlfriends cheery tone fills his ears.
“Uh- no sorry n/n- I’m- my flights been delayed and I hate to say it but- it’s until Tuesday night.” He says.
“What? Uh- alright.. I hate when these things happen.. I- I’ll see you then, love you.” She says softly.
“Yeah- love you too..”
That night josh went to bed sour while Y/n went to bed disappointed.
The next couple of days she deep cleaned the house and took her mind off her fiancés absence.
When he finally got back to England he was in a better mood as he booked an Uber.
He arrived back at 3 in the morning and he expected Y/n to be fast asleep so when he silently got back into the house and left his bags by the door, he was surprised to see Shameless USA playing on the TV as she sat wrapped in a blanket, eating ice cream.
She still hadn’t noticed him when he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her waist to which she yelled.
“Ah! Josh! You’re back!” She says as she puts her ice cream down and turns to face him.
He smiles tiredly and she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly, her breasts pressing against his chest as she buries her nose into the nape of his neck.
“I’ve missed you.” She said in a squeaky, surprised tone as he placed his hands underneath her thighs and lifted her off the ground.
“I’ve missed you too.. why are you awake so late?” He says as he starts to carry her into the bedroom, turning the TV off and leaving the almost empty ice cream tub.
“I- couldn’t sleep.” She says gently as he settle her into bed.
She smiles up at him as he pulls his shirt off and leaves his shorts on.
She was wearing a extra large sidemen SpongeBob top as she smiled.
He smiled back as he climbed next to her, letting his cold hands go under her shirt and resting on her abdomen as she shivered and brought her back further into his chest.
“I’ve missed you josh..” she says as she turns to face him, tracing shapes on his chest.
“I’ve missed you too, n/n” he replies as he rests his chin on her head.
The next morning, he wakes up to his fiancés fingers tracing his bare chest in non rhythmic patterns with a small smile, her hollow dimples showing slightly.
He smiles and tightens his grip on her waist.
“Morning..” his rough morning voice almost whispered.
She looked up at him and kissed his lips gently, her other hand now in his cheek.
He tightened his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her head.
She nuzzles herself into his chest further as she inhales his scent.
They just held each other for around two hours before she sat up and kissed his lips, to which he reincorporated— which lead to a make out session which lead to love-filled sex.
Her eyes were now closed again as she lay her head on his bare chest, her face bright red.
“Do- you wanna order some food, n/n?” He asks as his hand runs through her hair.
“Yeah- I don’t mind what you get- I’m going to have a shower.” She smiles as she sits up and kissed his lips again.
After her shower, she changes into some Christmas pyjamas (November is Christmas time) and sits next to Josh on their bed, it was currently 1pm so she assumed her ordered sandwiches or something.
When the food got here- she was proven right when he handed me a New York deli.
That afternoon, we just leaned on each other and watched shows, Allen and laughed, her arm never leaving his, kisses on his cheeks and hands on his hair, she held onto him with such sincerity he was glad he had her.
That night, they spoke till early hours, holding each other tightly.
“Love you josh..” she said gently as they nuzzled each other.
“I love you too, n/n.” He says as he kisses her forehead.
They slept and held each other, the next morning also starting the same way as the previous one, it was clear how much she missed him.
A/n: I don’t know about this one, it doesn’t have as much as regularity!! (I need to work on POV changes bro 😭) hope you enjoyed!!
@ace-call-me-what-youd-like I’ll try get the James fic out soon! Sorry for the wait!
#sidemen x y/n#sidemen x reader#sidemen#miniminter x reader#simon minter#miniminter#behzinga x reader#behzinga#ethan payne#ethan payne x reader#zerkaa x reader#zerkaa#josh zerkaa#ksi x reader#ksi#jj olatunji#tobi brown x reader#tobijzl#vikkstar x reader#vikkstar123
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