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7ndipity · 5 months

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Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi oneshot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts one shot #7ndipity

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luveline · 8 days

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Hellooo!! I saw your requests were open so I thought I'd ask if you could do singer/guitarist reader who fucked up on a gig (totally not self projecting here) and she like forgot some lyrics and stuff and she's just really upset and poly!marauders or really any of them comfort her

If not I totally get it and no worries!!

ty for requesting!! fem!reader, 1k

The best part about having more than one boyfriend is that one of them is bound to be good at something if the others aren’t. So while Remus can’t usually lift heavy things and Sirius doesn’t want to, James is more than happy to help your band pack up their things at the end of the night.

It also helps that he’s a bit of a fanboy about it. He might jokingly ask you for your autograph from time to time, but he genuinely likes talking to your bandmates about the songs you play and the equipment. You can hear him talking someone’s ear off as the other boys in the band huff and puff as they lift the amps into the back of the van.

“Why are you all silent?” Sirius asks, blowing a breath into your ear.

It’s not a very Sirius question. He sounds teasing, and his hand is playful as he pulls you into his side against the hood of his car, eyes on Remus where he chats across the car park to a friend.

You look up into his face. “M’not.”

“Ah, forgive me. I must be going deaf.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder. “You are. Hope that helps.”

“Of course it does.”

He hooks your shirt with his pinky and slides his hand onto bare skin, scratching at your tummy and ribs with short nails. “You don’t want to tell me?”

You turn further into him, hiding from his nagging questions, though you answer, because he’ll only find a way to drag it from you, and because you’d desperately like some reassurance. “I messed up really badly tonight. I ruined the set.”

“You didn’t ruin the set. You did mess up, but really badly is subjective.” Sirius looks down at you on his shoulder, his breath warming your skin, strands of his hair falling onto your face softly, you’re that close. “Everyone messes up,” he murmurs, “doesn’t mean you ruined it.”

Remus’ voice carries from a few feet away, “Where’s James?”

“He’s still helping. Our poor angel can’t use her arms, it seems.”

You and Remus wrinkle your noses simultaneously. “Her arms are fine,” he says.

“James offered,” you butt in.

“I’m joking,” Sirius says, touching his nose to your face, drawing a soft line before pulling away. He leans back casually. “It’s what people tend to do when their partners are upset.”

You needle him with your arm. “Dick.”

“You’re upset?” Remus asks.

That’s exactly why Sirius is a dick. You step away from his arm in time for Remus to stop in front of you and look you over in concern. “What’s the matter?” Remus asks.

“She’s embarrassed about forgetting the words earlier,” Sirius answers immediately.

You glare at him. He lays back against the car with an arm behind his head, grinning. Makes sense for him to be sweet and kiss you like that just to chuck you into the deep end.

“I didn’t want to say,” you mumble.

Remus sidles up to you, and he’s taking the same stance as Sirius, a teasing lightness that colours his smile as he wraps his arms around you. These boys are always hugging you.

“I don’t care if you want to say,” he murmurs, “you must tell me.” His hands clasp behind your back. “I won’t be left out.”

His face works into your neck, breath warms and tickles your skin.

He gives a scratch of kiss before he yanks away to meet your eyes. “Come on.”

“Messed up. Everyone saw. Set ruined.”

“Oh, oh,” he murmurs, “is that what you think happened?”

“Don’t be a liar,” you say.

“You forgot the words to one song. Everybody still had a good time, you looked amazing up there.” Remus leans far from you with his arms still braced behind your back, laughing as he says, “You were nearly perfect, and next time you’ll remember the embarrassment you’re feeling now and you won't forget the words.”

He kisses your cheek.

“Can we not tell James?” you ask.

“We have to.”

“I know.”

James is back sooner than you anticipated with a grin, the curls of his hair still perfect with pomade, not a drop of sweat on him. To your surprise, he doesn’t need to be told. “Oh, my girl,” he says proudly, jabbing your stomach with fake blows, “you did great! You only messed up one song!”

Remus winces, but you think perhaps James’ way of looking at it is best of all. You could’ve messed up every song you performed tonight but it was just one.

“You’re amazing,” he furthers, taking your face into both hands. “Fuck, you look amazing when you’re up there with your guitar like that. I had a dream once we were in a band together. Remus got all handsy with you–”

“Are you sure you’ve got the right man?” Sirius asks, letting Remus pull him up from the hood.

“It might’ve been me,” James concedes. “I know it’s not like me to ask for something back, but I did all that heavy lifting for you shortcake, and I’m dying for an encore.”

You’re not sure if he’s asking for something more than a show, your cheek turning hot in his hold. He encourages your face to his, his nose tapping yours up for a long, slow moving kiss, at odds with his flirtations but not his touches. His hands drag sluggishly down to your shoulders, the breath he takes on your lips like a happy sigh.

“Get off of her, pervert,” Sirius says, jostling you both apart. “We’re in public.”

“It’s just a kiss. I’m very proud of her, Sirius. She deserves a good kiss.”

You fluster in his hands.

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

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Hi, Neil! You've mentioned that Brian May was initially reluctant to give you permission to use Queen's music in the miniseries (because of competition with the Bohemian Rhapsody film, I think?) but I don't remember you ever telling us why he finally relented. Unless it involves a secret phrase not unlike why the sheep finally obeyed Babe the pig, how did you get him to change his mind?

He wouldn't let us use Queen when we did the BBC Radio 4 adaptation. He was concerned that people might think that Queen was being made fun of, or that Queen was being seen as something old-fashioned or something. For Good Omens the TV show I wrote him a letter, which said...

Dear Brian

Terry Pratchett and I had a private joke, back in the 80s, that any cassette in your car would eventually turn into Queen's Greatest Hits. We put the joke into our cowritten novel GOOD OMENS, and wove a certain amount of Queen magic through the book. Done because, pretty obviously, we love Queen. The book went on to sell enormous numbers over the years, and whenever two Good Omens fans got together, they would talk about Queen.

I know that when Dirk Maggs approached you when he did the Radio 4 adaptation of GOOD OMENS, you were wary about getting involved, due to concerns about, well cassettes, and the possibility of it positioning Queen in people's minds as something old fashioned or silly.

Which, I thought, when Dirk told me about it, was fair enough.

I've now spent the better part of the last four years writing scripts for, and shooting, a TV adaptation of GOOD OMENS. It stars Michael Sheen, David Tennant, Miranda Richardson, Adria Arjana, Michael McKean, Derek Jacobi, Jon Hamm, Nick Offerman, and lots of other amazing people, and it will be narrated by Frances McDormand. It is directed by Emmy-award-winning Douglas Mackinnon.

Douglas loves Queen. I love Queen. David Arnold loves Queen.

And the millions upon millions of Good Omens fans around the world love Queen too. So we have put various moments in there just for them (including a brass band playing "Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon"). We want Queen music to comment on the action.

The show will come out from Amazon, and then from the BBC, next year. This year we are in post-production.

We'd love to show you some of what we've got. We'd love to pick your brains and to get your take on what we're doing. To find out if there's a way we can include you, or just brief you on what we've planned so far.

And Brian cheerfully apologised for having said no before, and said yes.

(Queen didn't want us to use the song Bohemian Rhapsody initially, because of concerns about the movie, but after a while they were happy even with that.)

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wolfish-trickster · 5 days

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You made your choice

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Previous part

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: you asked Gojo who is more important to him, you or his bestfriend. He indirectly chose and now he's experiencing consequences of his own action (probably for the first time in his life).

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @nanao4k

A/N: I recomend listening to this song while reading (was listening to it while coming up with the story, the song and the story aren't exact copies of eachother but the vibe is about the same) and to those who know me THE LINK IS SAFE TO CLICK I DIDN'T LINK IT WITH WHAT YOU THINK I SWEAR. Enjoy the reading 😊

"Hey, can I come over?"

"Dude, you were just here!"

"I know, I know. But I need a shoulder to cry on."

"Damn, that bad? What happened? You and Y/N had a fight or...?"

"Can I just come over?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Geto Suguru has had a lot of weird moments with his best friend, but that phone call certainly was...something. No explanation, no joking around, just straight to the point.

About fifteen minutes later he heard his front door open.

"Satoru, did you learn how to teleport or something? We live an hour away from eachother," Geto joked before he could even turn around and see the state his friend was in. Disheveled hair, dry lips, red eyes. Something terrible must've happened.

"It's Y/N," was all Gojo said before he sat down at the dining table.

"Figured that much," replied Geto and took a seat next to him and waited. He knew Gojo. That man can't shut his mouth to save his own life. He'll spill everything sooner or later.

Gojo let his head fall on top of Geto's and sighed. Geto patted his fluffy white hair and kept on waiting. Good thing was they both sat right across a big window. Geto could count pine cones on the nearby trees while he waited for Gojo to open up.

It didn't take long.

"Y/N left."

"WHAT?!" Geto pushed the white head off of his shoulder and took Gojo by the shoulders. "What happened? What did you do?" He stared him in the eye.

Gojo just blinked. "I don't know! I don't think I did anything wrong," he looked oit the window again. A squirell jumped from one branch to another.

Geto rolled his eyes and turned Gojo's face back to his. "Satoru, people don't just up and leave. You must've done or said something that hurt her feelings. What did I tell you about comunication being-"

"Being the cornerstone of a good relationship, I remember," he put his hands on Geto's cupping his face. "We did talk. And I thought we came to a mutual understanding. Then I offered to cuddle with her and went to shower but once I walked out she was gone. All her things too..."

"Wow," Geto let go of his friend's face, "what a bitch."

"Right?" Gojo agreed and leaned back on his chair so far it was threatening to fall. "I don't understand. She never complained before, never said anything, then all of a sudden she pulls a stunt like that, throws a scene, slips into her selfhating thing again-"

"Wait, she what?" Geto asked confused. He has met you enough times to know you were very cheerful and life-loving person. What was Gojo talking about? Selfhatred?

"She has these moments,"he explained, "thinks she's too fat, then not curvy enough, thinks she's too basic to be with a guy like me, so on. When it happened the first few times i comforted her but even after all those years she still thinks of herself as less than and I'm too damn tired of it. I thought all of those negative thoughts would go away the first time I assured her I love her no matter what," he crossed his arms on his chest and looked out the window again. "I'm starting to feel like she's doing it for attention."

"Listen Satoru, maybe she's just extremely selfconscious and people like her need reassurance like that. Besides if she was really doing that for attention she wouldn't leave withoit a word. She would leave hints for you to find her and come beg her on your knees or something."

Gojo chuckled. "Suguru, you've got to stop watching Shoko's telenovelas."

"I'm a slut for drama."

A phone rang.

In a speed of light Gojo pulled out his phone hoping to see your lovely face. The screen was black.

Geto pulled out his ringing phone and picked up. "Well well, speak of the devil," he smiled.

Gojo couldn't hear what him and Shoko were talking about. He could only take hints from Geto's facial expressions and his occasional answers.

"What do you mean you have to cancel it? Oh. Okay. I understand. And did she tell you what-" his eyes got wide. "But wait, that's not- I didn't- Actually he's right next to me."

Gojo tried to get closer to hear what they were talking about but Geto jumped up and walked across the room.

"Okay. Okay, i'll ask him. No, that's fine. Alright. Take care, both of you. Bye," he hung up. Then slowly turned around to face Gojo now standing opposite him.

"Now you'll tell me exactly what had happened between you two. You said she caused a scene, what was it about?"

His mouth turned into neutral line, just like when you started this whole mess. "She asked me to stop seeing you. Can you believe that? Trust me, if I told her to stop seeing her friends all hell would break lose."

"Isn't that what happened when she asked you?" Geto pointed out the obvious double standard but Gojo wasn't listening.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? She wanted me to spend more time with her. Like, what does she want me to do? Make me and her morph into one being?"

"It is true that you've been spending a lot of time with me," Geto held his chin between his fingers in a thought. "But I don't get one thing. If you being away from her this often was a problem for her then she must've shown signs, not encourage you to come and spend time with me when she was too busy herself."

"About that," Gojo nervously played with his shades. "I might've over-exagarated that."

"Don't tell me..." Geto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She wasn't always busy when I came here."

"Satoru!" He half shouted. "You always told me she was too busy and couldn't come! Why would you lie?"

"Because i felt trapped!" He yelled back. "I felt like I couldn't even breathe. Yes, being around has brought me so much joy but I missed the thrill of being free. Just being with you and Shoko and doing whatever. Now I just feel like I'm chained to something that I kinda want away from but also not," the entire time he spoke he was pacing back and forth. "I just wanted to feel like the old times."

"So in other words you miss the feeling of being single but you also like the benefits relationship gives you," Geto concluded. "I thought you were better than this."

"And I thought you would understand," Gojo turned his anger against his best friend who was calmly standing in the living room. "But wait, I forgot, you have no one," he mocked.

"Damn right I don't. Which makes me even more pissed off when I see how you treat your own relationship! Have you got any idea how much I envied you for having someone waiting for you at home and welcome you after a long day? Or just someone to be there for you in general?"

Gojo got silent. He didn't know. Geto never showed it.

Geto took it as his chance to try speak some sense into Gojo. "Listen, you only feel like this because you've never been in a relationship. Feeling trapped is normal, I think. What's important is that you love her and you're capable of changing to get her back, right?"

Gojo was just looking at him.

"Right?" Geto said a bit more panicked.

"I don't know!" Gojo exclaimed and Geto facepalmed. "I don't know how to choose between her and you."

"Is that what she asked? For you to choose between her and me?"

Gojo shook his head. "No, I think she just wanted me to spend less time with you."

"So she didn't out right prohibit you from hanging out with me, she only asked for you to stay with her more often," Geto was slowly but surely getting the whole picture.

"Something like that," Gojo shrugged.

Geto sighed. "You royally fucked up Gojo Satoru."

"No, really?" sarcasm dripped from his words. "I still think I did nothing wrong. She has no right to aks me to spend less time with you."

"She does actually. She's your girlfriend of what, three years?"

Gojo nodded.

"Three years and yet you place her beneath a best friend. How would you feel like if she had to choose between her best friend and you and she went for the friend?"

Suddenly, Gojo looked like it finally hit him. "I'd feel...terrible," he sat down on the chair. "But... but I didn't tell her I would choose you. Both of you mean so much to me."

"On the same level or a different one? Satoru, understand that the love for a friend and a love for a lover are two separate kinds of love. You not being able to distinguish between them caused you to be in this mess."

Geto walked over to where Gojo sat and towere over him. He put a reassuring hand on his wide back. "Let me ask you this: what do you want right now? To be with her?"

Gojo stayed silent. He didn' know what he wanted. He hated the fact that he can't have both a friend and a lover. Choosing one would mean losing the other in Gojo's eyes. He can't afford that. Not when both of his most treasured people made him so happy.

Geto took his silence as a no. "You know what I think? You didn't want to have her. You just wanted others to see you have her."

His words cut like a knife. Why? Why do his loved ones have to be this cruel? He only looked up from the floor to his best friends almost black eyes. His own baby blues were watery. A lump took place in his throat. With a horror he realised how weak he feels. One half of him already packed her things and walked away, he can't let the other half do the same.

"Do you hate me now?" He whispered, affraid if he will speak any louder he would cry.

Geto took a while. Then shook his head. "No Satoru, just dissapointed."

Gojo nodded and looked back down to the floor.

Few minutes passed. None of them said anything. After Gojo was completely sure he won't fall apart he spoke up. "Do you think I can fix this?"

"Hmm," Geto hummed and pulled out a chair to sit opposite him. "Fixing means returning to its original state. I don't think things will go back to normal."

"But, I don't want to lose her. I know I don't!"

"Then you must set your priorities straight."

"But-" Gojo looked into Geto's eyes again. "That would mean I will loose you and that's equally as bad."

Geto shook his head. "You won't loose me. I'll still be here. You can still come over and we can still hang out. It just won't be like before."

"And that's what I don't want," Gojo mumbled and crossed his arms again while leaning into the backrest.

"Truthfully, if I had a girlfriend as amazing as Y/N I would spend a lot of time with her and not you."

Gojo swore he could feel his heart crack. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, "that it's only natural to pick your lover over your friends. Not always, of course, but often enough."

Geto lifted his head to see his friend pale as a ghost, his skintone could now rival with his hair. He immediatelly regreted what he said. "But as I said, even if that was the case, even if you chose her as your top priority, which you should've as a good boyfriend, then it wouldn't mean I would cease to exist. And if I get someone in the future and I do the same you won't cease to exist to me either. You are my best friend, Satoru," he placed a hand on Gojo's shoulder, "and no girl will ever change that."

Gojo's ocean blue eyes let some tears slipped. He realized that his best friend is right, as always. Geto will always be there. And sure, even after he gets busy in his own life and won't have time for Gojo and his antics anymore, that wouldn't mean they would change into strangers to one another.

Gojo quickly wiped his tears and nodded. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't want tk fix this. I want to evolve this. I want her back. I want to learn to love her again. Properly this time."

"You sure about that?"

Gojo nodded.

"Even after she won't forgive you?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's smart. She will understand. Besides, how can you rehect the best man in the world?" He forced out a chuckle.

Geto shook his head. "Arrogant and full of yourself as always."

"Yeah, what can you do..."

Geto's phone buzzed again. But this time nkt from a phone call but a message. Geto took out his phone, gave it a short glance and put it back into his pocket.

"Was it Shoko?"

Geto shook his head. "Just my reminder. Me and Shoko planned to go see a movie."

"Oh, is that what you talked about canceling?"

Geto nodded. "Y/N knocked on her door and asked to stay a few days. From what Shoko told me she was a mess."

Gojo slumped forward on his chair and hid his face in his hands. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

Geto hummed. "Do you know what this is callled? Consequences. Hurts, doesn't it?"

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk fanfic

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ggrapeejuicee · 4 months

Text

„Just… Pretend.”

summary: in which harry convinces you to spend your summer in cape cod with his parents as his ‘girlfriend.’ but everything is just pretend, your not actually his girlfriend and you never have wanted to be his girlfriend, you’ve never seen him as more than harry styles, the singer… but by the end of the summer will that change?

tropes (so far) : fake dating

part one

“It’s just for one weekend.” He pleaded, “Then you can go back to hating me. You never even have to talk to me again, I don’t care.”

You sigh, your head falling backwards with a groan. You did not want to do this at all, but he’d been persistently asking you for days.

“C’mon, please?”

You roll your eyes, “You’re on a date with a new girl every week, I’m sure any of them would be up for it.”

“I can’t just take anyone to my parent’s place.”

“Why not? Or how about you just tell them you’re not seeing anyone right now? They won’t care.”

“I just need you to come, alright? I’ll owe you one, I promise.”

“Why me? There’s a million other people you could take, besides I’ve already met your parents at a show, they’ll never believe we’re seeing each other.”

“And they really liked you!”

“There’ll be a ton of other people that they like too, Harry. Choose anyone else.”

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He repeats.

You look at him with tired eyes, awaiting his explanation. You’d been over this a hundred times, you had no interest in pretending to be his girlfriend while he visited his parents over the summer.

“I already told them we’re together.” He says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“What?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“They just… They met you at the show, and they really did seem to like you, and they kept going on and on about how they want me to find someone who makes me happy and stuff and I shut them up by saying we’re together…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You say, annoyed.!

The fact he’d been telling his parents ridiculous lies without even telling you about it, when said lies actually involved you had pissed you off.

Harry’s parents were lovely, and a producer on his latest album you’d met them a couple times at shows- Especially during the LA residence where you and his parents sat through the concerts in a VIP booth. His mum was lovely, always smiling and knew every single lyric. She told you that she was in Harry’s 0.5% of top listeners on Spotify last year.

You thought that was cute.

 You couldn’t relate though, 5 Seconds of Summer were your top Spotify artist- Harry could never find out about that.

“They’ve been asking for me to take you to the beach house for months-“

“Months?!” You interrupt, “How long have you been telling them we’re together?”

He shrugged, “Since the end of the Forum residency?”

“Harry that was SIX months ago!” You yell, “I can’t pretend to be in a six month relationship with you, that’s ridiculous.”

He sits down on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“Yes you can. You practically know everything about me already. We spent every day of the tour together.”

“Everything about you in a career aspect.”

“Everything in general.” Harry corrects, “Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do.”

“I don’t. You’re just saying this because you’re convincing yourself that this ridiculous idea will actually work.”

“Name my first pet.”

“What?” You question. He was being stupid. There is no way you’d ever be able to spend two weeks with his parents over the summer, it was never going to work. It was a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon. You know the answer.”

He just kept staring at you. He wasn’t giving up. The longer you stayed silent the more intense his stare got. When he began to raise his eyebrows you’d given up.

“Max.” You mutter quietly, unimpressed with this whole game he was playing.

“And what am I allergic to?”

“Marshmallows, but you eat them anyway.”

Harry was grinning, and it was pissing you off. He was winning and he knew it.

“My favourite Christmas song?”

You rolled your eyes, “Christmas lights by Coldplay, but you tell everyone that it’s Merry Christmas Everyone because it’s a classic.”

Harry was giving you a ‘I told you so’ look. He wasn’t going to quit until you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend.

You sigh softly, “Even if I agree to this… It could he really damaging for my career.”

“No one will find out.” His face was more serious now, and you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he meant it, “I’ll make sure of that.”

“But if if does-”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, because there’s always a chance no matter what you think, then everyone will only think I got hired to tour manage because we’re ‘sleeping together.’” You say, using air quotes, just to further elaborate that this was all fake.

Harry had already got his grammy, he was at the peak of his career he’d be fine no matter what happened. But you were a female music producer in a male dominated industry, if people think you were only hired for this album because you’re fucking the singer- your career was over.

“If people find out I’ll kill you.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna agree?”

You nod, reluctantly.

“Thank you!” He jumps out of his chair, “I swear I’ll make it up to you, thank you so much.”

— — —

If you were in Harry’s position you’d be vigilant of everything, everyone, everywhere. You’d be paranoid of someone jumping through your bedroom window while you were asleep. But Harry was oddly calm. Maybe he was just like that. His lips were formed almost in a smile while he slept, and his eyes were moving under his eyelids- probably from a dream he was having. He wasn’t calm very often- recently he’d been very on edge and anxious about everything, it was nice to see him look so peaceful. You hoped for that sort of peace someday soon.

You had been in the studio going on six hours, and when he’d taken a break from recording so you could go over the tracks he’d managed to fall asleep in that short period of time.

You let him sleep while you packed up the equipment, putting things back into their assigned places, and didn’t bother waking him up until you were 100% ready to go.

“Harry,” You said softly, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Harry we gotta go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to adjust himself to the light.

“Huh?”

“We only had the studio booked until six, we gotta go.”

“Oh,” He sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck that had went into a cramp, “Sorry, don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You shrug, “We got enough done today anyways. You deserve a rest.”

There were only three days left until the day Harry had said you were leaving for his parents place, and you had skipped over the subject every time he’d tried to bring it up. You didn’t really want to think about it because you were dreading it so badly.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Harry said as you left the studio building.

“No, it’s alright.” You say, “I’ll just get an Uber.”

Harry glared at you, “Y/N, just get in the car.”

You glare back. But it had been a long day so getting a free lift wasn’t so bad.

“So.” He said, starting the car. “We gotta go over some things.”

“About the album?” You play dumb.

“… No.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Love, you gotta tell me some stuff about you. My parents are gonna ask me shit and I don’t have a clue what to tell them.”

You groan. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got an Uber.

“Like what.”

He shrugs, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You reply.

“Mines is blue.”

“I know,” You reply.

“What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

You laughed to yourself a little.

“Jet black heart,” You grin, knowing you’d get some sort of reaction out of this answer, “By 5 Seconds of Summer.”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” Harry scoffs, “They’re punks!”

You roll their eyes, “They turned to pop music and half of them are married, they’re hardly punks.”

“You know one of them dated my sister, right?” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” You grin, “And wrote a banging tune about it as well.”

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Look, you asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. You can’t complain.”

“I know, I know.” Harry said, “You got any exes?”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“This is the kind of stuff I need to know! Like I dunno if I’m your first boyfriend and all that.”

“Harry… I’m 24 years old. You’re not my first boyfriend.”

You said it almost as if he was your boyfriend. It sent a chill down your spine. This was going to be a long few weeks.

“Good to know.” He said.

He dropped you off outside your apartment.

“I guess the next time I see you will be for when we’re leaving, yeah?”

You nod. There was no studio session booked until after his vacation to Cape Cod, where his families beach house was, so he was right. The next time you see him would be at the airport.

“Flights at seven.” He says.

“Got it.”

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

part two coming soon…

support me through ko-fi! (buy me a coffee!!)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles story #fake dating #fake dating trope #fake relationship

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

Text

Maniac

Yans (Nerd, Bully, Student Council) + Dismissive Creep Reader Blurb [G.N All]

Warning: Bullying, mentions of dead animals, violence, death

(An: Never been huge of the school setting but this came up while listening to a song with the same title. If you can guess it you get a cookie)

Creep Reader who's friends with the school punching bag. Saying they're acquaintanced is a bit of a stretch as nerd hangs out with them because nobody bothers them when they sit next to this freak and they dress their wounds, and Creep only tolerates them because they take pictures of every blossoming bruise and cut.

You never offer input in their one-sided conversations, scribbling away in that notebook of yours as they go insane rambling on about what their bullies did that day and how it feels everyone appears to be out to get them. All you ever do with anyone is watch, listen, and write. It's honestly like talking to a brick wall sometimes.... which is why they had no problem accepting the only good advice ever given to them.

"Y'know.... Even if I report this to the principal it wouldn't stop. They'll get suspended for a few days and when they come back - they'll probably just kill you. If you want this to stop, you need to find a new target for them."

A new target...There's only one person more of a freak than them.

"Y/n takes pictures of dead animals."

The rumor spread like wildfire. A tale spun by a sock puppet account and sprinkled throughout the halls. Really, even they weren't sure if the rumor was true or not, but with that camera and your track record it wasn't out of possibility. All eyes were immediately on you. Your phone number was leaked and the threats and queries poured in. People would point at carcasses on the road and make sure you were in earshot when they joked about hoping nobody was taking pictures. They went so far as to sneak a dead bird in your bag when you weren't looking and poured milk on your items when they couldn't find any. They stole your gym clothes, wrote foul things on your desk and locket - but none of them had ever touched you.

As expected, you had no reaction to this. That's the thing your "friend" had always been jealous of you for. So closed off from the world, from the pain it gives. With nobody slamming their head in the lockers anymore, people began to appreciate their talents and hobbies. They made friends. Real ones. They naturally started to drift away from you, but they always stopped when they saw you in the halls.

"Hey, Y/n.... How have you been?"

"Fine."

"None of this is bothering you?..."

"As long as they don't touch me - I'm fine."

All that's where you left the conversation - and your friendship. Your dismissal to it all lead many to give up after a few weeks, but one remained. The same blight on your friend's life since the start of school. Sure, your reactions were lackluster - but they knew they could break you. It was only a matter of time - and you had just given them the key.

"Hey - Freak!"

Your head bounces off the metal door as you're thrown into your locker.

"Can't touch you, huh? The fuck are you going to do about it?"

You rise to your feet, touching the wet spot at the back of your skull. "If we're going to do this, it's better we do it where nobody can see us."

"Ha? - don't want people to see you lose a few teeth? Fine, I got a big game in a few weeks and rather not get expelled before then."

"Sure."

Your former watches as you're lead behind the school. They should do something, call a teacher - but they're too afraid. The weight of the situation falls on them as you disappear from sight. You're going to get hurt and it's all their fault. Your bully cooks up all the things they plan on doing to you, cracking their knuckles and damn near salivating at the thought of seeing your stone face crumple. They're too preoccupied with their threats to notice you pulling something out of your pocket. Their foot falls off the concrete path and into the grassy terrain as they ready their fists, doubling over in pain as pain splits up their side. They vomit spittle and their own words as they look up, metal bars wrapped around your hands.

"what....the fuck."

"Get up."

Gritting their teeth, the bully drags themselves to their feet - back on their knees before they can stand as your fist barrels into their stomach. You grab both sides of their head and ram your knee into the facture scar on their nose. You're unrelenting even as they fall back on their ass, removing your metal knuckles and mounting them as you ball your fists. You weren't ready for a murder charge just let. Over and over, your balled hand cracks against their face and jaw - drawing red with each wet smack. You stop only to switch you your unbruised hand - their arms shooting up in defense.

"please...."

"..."

"stop...."

"Isn't that what people ask you?"

You climb off their battered body, lifting one leg under your arm. "I've studied people for a while. Writing scenarios where I could ruin lives is much better for all of us than actually doing it. I know things about you too... Your family paid off your younger brother's teacher so he got get into that nice college - and you have a full ride... If you can still use both legs."

Tears prick their eyes. They fight to keep them in. This was their future you were playing with. "I'm sorry! I won't hurt anyone again I promise!"

Your grip tightens "I don't care about everyone."

"I won't mess with you anymore!"

They flinch as you drop their leg. "Good." Waking over to your discarded backpack, you retrieve your med kit and camera - dropping down beside them as you remove the lense.

"Smile."

Their eyes burn as the camera flash goes off. You set the camera aside as you open the kit and pull out an alcohol swab - pinning them to the ground as you apply it to their split cheek.

"Ow! The fuck are you doing now?"

"Quiet."

"Get the fuck off me!"

"You have a game in a few weeks, don't you? I don't think I broke anything, but you probably don't want the other team to see you with bruises."

The following Monday, your bully greets you all smiles and pleasant as if you were the best of friends. They could do the exact same thing as you and study you like an animal in a zoo to inact their revenge. Anyone who still picked on you quickly turned on their heels when they saw you with their click. They bragged while you were away about how they planned to tear your life to shreds so hard the damage would last long after school. It was going to be the peak of their year -

"Drink this."

"An energy drink? If you wanted to posion me, you could've done it with something better."

"The seal is still intact. No amount of chapstick will fix your dry lips, because you're dehydrated. An athlete should know better than that."

Their fingers instinctly fly to their lips. How did you?.... You did say you had been watching. They didn't know nor understand the full reach of your knowledge until they got a happy birthday message from an unknown number and a speaker ended up in a pool when they were urged to jump in. They had a fear of water since adolescence after nearly drowning at a lake. You never took charge for this acts and mostly blended into the crowd when they happened. You picked up your old hobby of patching their injuries and taking photos as payment. Why were you doing so much for someone who wanted to make you suffer?

"We're friends.... aren't we?"

Huh?

"Besides, if I stick with you, I don't have to look up gore sites anymore - or take pictures of dead animals."

You're such a fucking freak. A freak - that was starting to grow on them.

You became the person they'd look for first during school - when they needed a shoulder to cry on. You rarely offered comfort, but a pat on the shoulders was good enough for them. Their hand would find your shoulder or waist so frequently that rumors began spreading that you were dating - until people found out every touch was met with a light punch to their bruised ribs. They'd just laugh it off and apologize before doing it again an hour later.

Your former friend was having the time of their life - for a while. Something felt... artificial about their new friends. They had a good time at school and when they got together on weekends, but nobody was there for them at any other time. No one to vent to or wish them happy birthday exactly when it turned midnight - like you used you. They missed you. More than anything.

"Hey - give me Y/n's number."

Been a while since they've been in this scenario. Why was your shared bully asking them for your number?

"H-huh? Why?...."

"I had to get a new phone and can't remember the last digits. Stop asking questions and give it to me."

"Okay!"

The bully snatches their phone and punches the number into theirs - eyes softening as the line connects. "Y/n..... What? Of course it's me. I got a new phone. Anyway, I got tickets to that one movie that's coming out this week - the one that got pushed back because the prop knife turned out to be real? You coming or not?... Good."

Your former friend catches their phone as it's tossed back to them - watching their bully walk away with the flush of a middle schooler confessing to their crush. They hadn't been hit at all during the altercation, but their chest hurt hearing your voice after so long away from you - even faintly.

They find you the next day at the top of the roof. It was your favorite hiding place, and the only one your bully hadn't found yet. They sit quietly beside you.

"How have you been?..."

"Fine..."

They purse their lips together. "What...did you do to make them stop?"

"Put them in their place."

"What do you mean by that?"

You point your camera at the passing crowd. "At our age, people only have as much power as you give them. If you stand your ground they'll typically back down, and if they don't - you beat the to a pulp and ruin their families lives."

Your friend can't stop the tears from flowing. You had always been the strong one, that they knew - but how could you handle things so easily? How could they betray you like that? Their only companion in this world - thrown to the wolves when you should've been their for each other.

"It was you wasn't it?"

You stand up.

"Stay away from me."

They reach out to grab you - mend the tattered strings of your friendship. "Don't leave me. I did it, okay? I did it, and I'm so so sorry. Y/n, please forgive me - I couldn't take it anymore. I'd go back to the way things were if it meant you were still with me. Please, Y/n, I'm in lo-"

Their vision blanks, speckles of blood littering the ground floor from their split lip. You lower your hand back down to your camera.

"Don't lie to me. Or yourself like that."

It hurts... Everything hurts.... Still, they smile - showing you the bloodied whites of their teeth.

""ahhh.... Y/n, I'm... I'm bleeding. Don't you want to take a picture of me? Aren't I still beautiful to you? Aren't I good enough?"

You don't grace them with a reply, walking off as they curl into themself. It hurts - their mouth is numb, but it hurts all over. Please, come back. Let them their their head on your shoulder until the pain goes away. Y/n... Please.

"I'm sorry...."

"But are you really though?"

They cover their ears with their hands. Shut up. Go away. If they'd done their job probably - none of these would've happened. The student council president. The worthless coward didn't even have the courage to come themself. Just another lackey doing their bidding.

"Leave me alone."

"Ugh, you're so whiny. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I just wanted I break - I didn't mean to hurt them."

"Yea, yeah that's what your like always says. Misery sure does love company, though. I genuinely don't see what the prez likes about that fucking creep. They're wasting their time and blood for them."

Shut up. "Don't talking about Y/n like that?"

"But you had no problem with it when it was for benefit. What did you call them? A psychopath?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go....."

"Keep telling yourself that. I can't decide who'd I'd take more - the backstabber, or the maniac."

"SHUT UP!"

Walking down the steps to the first floor, you crash into someone skipping their way in the same direction.

"Ah - Y/n!" The student council president grins, picking up your fallen camera. "Good morning, good morning! And how are you doing ok this lovely day?"

"Fine."

"Faaaantastic." They point at their cheek sweeping blood on the shell of your camera. "As you can see here, I had a little bitty accident in my culinary class. I'm such a clutz, aren't I? If you give me one of those cute bandages, I'll take a picture of this cut and smile real pretty for ya!"

"Whatever." The president hums as you fish around in your bag, smiling big for their future spouse - deleting as many pictures as they can of others in that short time. If only they hadn't been out sick when the rumors spread. Then maybe you wouldn't be on that awful bully's arm and in theirs instead. They refused to let this little setback running your future together. After all, they were willing to bleed for you on their own Accord unlike everyone else in your album.

Unfortunately, they were upstaged once again - but their own council member too. They frown as the screams begin. They spit on the floor as blood splatters across the windows.

Couldn't go kill yourself somewhere else?

At the rooftop, panic takes flight. No no no... They didn't mean to do it. Their hands flew out before their brain could tell them no. The blood pools like a broken jug. A crowd surrounds the body. Nobody can see them from their place on the roof floor, but they can see everyone. A figure wearing a jacket that was once theirs, dyed with their blood and tears. The camera that hangs around that person's neck. The shutter of the lense. They laugh - finally understanding what they had to do to get you back.

You really did like taking pictures of dead animals afterall....

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere nerd #yandere bully #yandere harem

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finalgirlfae · 11 months

Note

Can you write something where reader meets Mile’s parents for the first time as his gf?And they get along well:,))

meeting the parents, miles morales

genre: fluff

pairings: miles morales x fem reader

summary: you meet miles’ parents as his official girlfriend for the first time

notes: in my head the reader is afro latina like miles, and also my spanish is rough so bare with me for a second. also since people love to argue with me; before y'all start yes i know what the song is about🤗

“MILES i’m shitting bricks right now i’m so nervous.” you spoke to your boyfriend over facetime. two and a half months on a random new york city rooftop while the sun set, miles had asked you to be his girlfriend- officially. the two of you had been talking for about two months before he asked and now it was time for inevitable turning point in every relationship; meeting the parents.

you should be happy you made it this far! guys suck, but guys in new york city? they sucked even worse. so to meet a great guy who really liked you and wanted to introduce you to his parents was a major win. but there was a feeling eating at you, one that terrified you. what if his parents didn’t like you?

“what if i call platainos plantain and she tells me to get out of her house? i’m so scared-”

“baby, baby,” miles spoke from the phone on your dresser. you could hear the bustle of city traffic around him. “tómalo con calma mami, okay? you gotta relax.”

“tómalo con calma” you mimicked, “miles how can you tell me to take it easy? this is literally more stressful than our chem test last week.”

you heard miles wince over the phone. “you’re that nervous? yikes.”

you ran over to your phone and picked it up in panic. “what do you mean yikes??”

“nothing. look i’m outside, buzz me in.”

you sighed and walked out of your room to the living space, pressing the buzzer to open the door. miles would be up here in a minute and then you’d be on your way to meet his parents. his mom was making lunch for everyone.

you moved over to the mirror in your living room and gave yourself a good look, you didn’t want a single hair out of place when you met them. it was a warmer summer afternoon with the sun high in the sky, not a single cloud was in sight. to compensate the hot weather, you wore a faded green tank top with butterflies decorated on it with a clear quartz crystal necklace and denim skirt. your hair was in a ponytail, coils bunched tightly together and edges laid perfectly. you went over to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and getting the small bouquet of flowers you had bought for miles’ mom. they were pink and yellow tulips; her favorite according to miles.

when the door bell run you walked over, opening it to reveal your boyfriend. “hey baby.” he spoke, stepping into the apartment.

“hello my love.” you wrapped an arm around his waist, bringing the boy closer to you and leaning up on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss. he smiled down at you, wrapping arms around your body and bringing you into another kiss. when you both pulled away he looked you up and down. “you look beautiful baby, those for me?” he joked, pointing at the flowers.

“thank you but no.” you gave him the flowers to hold and slipped on some air force ones, “these are for your mom.”

he gave you a big smile, kissing your temple. “that’s so sweet! very thoughtful, baby. she’s gonna love them- and you, let’s go.”

you couldn’t even respond before miles hand was wrapped around your wrist, tugging you wearily out of your new york city apartment. he barely gave you enough time to grab your purse before you two were walking down the street to the 2 train. five stops later you were walking out the station and to his apartment building.

“miles i’m scared.” you grimaced as you made your way into the elevator. he held your hand, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze. “there is nothing to be afraid of mi querida.”

“qué pasa si a ellas no les gusto?”

miles only sighed at your question. “ellos van a. even on the impossible chance they don’t it wouldn’t matter to me, i like you.”

a small smile spread on your face. “you know you’re so corny right? you got no game.” you laughed as the elevator dinged and the door opened.

“yeah but i still pulled you didn’t i?” he asked, smirking to himself and holding your hand as you walked down to his apartment. your heart was beating out of your chest.

“aye aye,” miles turned to you. fuck, you forgot he could hear things like that. “mi amor, estará ben. breathe, okay? they’re just people.”

“yeah cariño but they’re your people. it’s important to me how this lunch goes.”

he smiled and kissed your cheek. “me too. let’s go.” miles used the hand that wasn’t in your to find his keys. he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. immediately your nose was hit with the smell of delicious food. there was music playing from the stereo under the tv, a song you recognized.

"mom, dad! estamos en casa!" he called out as he stepped out of his shoes. you did the same and hung your purse on a coat hook before taking the flowers from miles, he had held them on the way over.

a few seconds later his parents walked into the living room. miles nudged you and you walked over to meet them. "mom, dad, this is my girlfriend. y/n."

"hello." you smiled. "it's nice to meet you lieutenant and mrs morales." you shook his dad's hand before turning to his mom. "mrs. morales, these are for you." you handed her the bouquet and watched the smile spread on her face as she took them. she brought you into a hug, "it's nice to meet you too sweetheart, i've heard a lot about you."

when you two pulled away from the hug you could almost feel miles' smile, he knew that she'd like you. “y/n why don’t you sit down and miles you come help me bring the food out.”

“i can help you, ma’am."

she looked at you for a second before nodding. "thank you! the kitchen's that way." she pointed. you nodded and began walking. rio turned to look at miles, mouthing "she's very pretty" before following you into the kitchen. when you were both there miles and his father walked to set the table.

"so.." miles began. "what do you think?"

"i'm happy she's not white." his dad laughed, smacking his arm and making miles give him a face. he knew he was talking about his past situationship type thing with gwen. "come on dad seriously, what do you think of her?"

his dad placed down four glasses. "i think she's very nice, very pretty and well mannered. nice job."

you and rio walked back into the kitchen, both holding pots and pans.

"what did you make mami?" miles asked, pulling out a chair for you. when you sat down he smiled and pushed it in before sitting next to you. across from you two were his parents.

"i made mofongo, arroz con gandules, alcapurrias and some tostones. oh, and for dessert i made some quesitos."

"i love quesitos!" you exclaimed. she smiled at you. "i know, miles told me. you're panamanian, right?" she asked, sitting across from you and beginning to serve you some mofongo.

you nodded, thanking her and placing a napkin on your lap. "yeah, on my dad's side."

"what does your dad do?" lieutenant morales asked as he began to eat.

"he used to work nypd but he retired a few years ago, 20 years."

his dad nodded, seeming impressed.

as you began to ease into their presence, you eased into the conversation as well. everything felt so natural and soon all your fears were alleviated. miles parents were really nice and also funny as hell. besides that they were genuinely good people and you could understand why miles turned out to be the wonderful person he is. he had great role models.

as the meal winded down miles mom brought out two dozen fresh baked quesitos with powdered sugar on top. "careful." she said to you. "you might have to fight miles for them. his appetite has been insatiable lately."

you and miles both looked at each other, stifling laughter. just as you were about to respond the stereo distracted you.

un matrimonio africano esclavos de un el les daba muy mal trato

ya su negra le pegó español

"oh my god." you spoke standing up. all three of them looked at you. "what?"

el les daba muy mal trato y a su negra le pegó

"me encanta esta canción!" you grabbed miles' hands and pulled him into the living room.

y fue allí, se reveló el negro guapo tomó venganza por su amor yaún se escucha en la verja no le pegue a mi negra

as the music played, you and miles began to salsa dance around the living room. "you know for a superhero who's thing is being acrobatic, you're a surprisingly bad dancer." you teased, making sure to whisper.

no le pegue a la negra no le pegue a la negra

oye man no le pegue a la negra

miles sucked his teeth, "my thing is webs."

you gigled, "i bet you shoot them out your trasero."

"man shut up." miles laughed, grabbing your hands and doing a roomba as he spun you, "see," he asked, hands going back to your waist, "i ain't too bad."

lleva la cadena lleva la cadena

"you stole that move from me!" his dad exclaimed, pulling rio in by her waist and beginning to dance beside you two. the rest of the night was filled with dancing, laughter and conversation. it's safe to say miles' parents liked you, and that'd you'd be welcome for many more meals at the morales house.

#fluff #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales #request #faes requests #across the spiderverse

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sc0tters · 9 months

Text

Repeated Moments | Quinn Hughes

summary: you and Quinn get a chance to see that your usual summer fling works all year round.

song: August - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: bit of swearing, allusions to sex but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.41k

authors note: so the song August actually inspired the In His Arms series and I came up with it before this request came in. So I figured that I’d give you guys what was the other option that I had when building that series main character! If you want to see more of the celly you can find the playlist here!

He was never yours for long enough.

It started back in 2020 one night at the lake house when you two had far too much to drink and you ended up in Quinn’s room with your clothes on the floor and you tangled in his sheets.

There was a joke that you’d end up like that one day, Ellen saw the way you looked at her son. She saw the way he looked at you too. In fact the only people who didn’t see it was Alex, Jack and their other friends.

Luke didn’t see it but he walked in once when you were on Quinn’s lap making out with him and once you swore him to secrecy the youngest Hughes vowed to never tell a soul.

Despite the fact that you sat Quinn down swearing that what happened could never happen again because you believed your brothers friendship was more important than a quick fuck, it seemed to continue to happen.

After the third and fourth time that you landed up in his sheets it was clear that this was bound to be more than just a drunken evening.

Quickly it began your secret, you’d go to bed waiting until everyone fell asleep before you’d make your way to Quinn’s room making sure that you were back in your room by the time Alex was woke up.

Sure there were a few times that you two were almost caught, Jack went to the bathroom early one morning and saw you leaving his brothers room, Alex came to your room to give you a blanket once and was met with your empty bed. Cole thought he heard moans coming from Quinn’s room but he just assumed that it was him being sleep deprived.

The moment it all should have been caught was when Alex saw the hickey on your neck that you chalked off to be a burn from your curling iron, your hair had been straight all week but your brother still offered to get ice for you.

Things continued on for another summer always ending when the first one left the lake house.

A spanner was thrown into the works though when Luke invited you to his debut game because he knew you were in New Jersey for the week. The young Hughes boy had a soft spot for you because when he was like twelve you threatened to punch Jack and Trevor if they continued to tease him.

Quinn didn’t know you were going to there but the signs should have pointed to it. Ellen came with a box of your favourite fudge that only this one small candy shop in Michigan made, you were the only one on this planet Quinn knew who ate it. Jack and Luke had been talking about a girl coming with Trevor and how they were surprised that she willingly had him accompanying her on the flight.

Trevor was the kind of person that you used to put up with, he was nice don’t get yourself wrong but he literally spent the first four years of knowing you trying to flirt with you. Sure you appreciated the fact that he found you pretty but his efforts began to get irritating after a while. To put it nicely you loved Trevor but you loved him even more when he kept his mouth shut.

But recently it seemed that you two had grown close or at least that’s what it looked like to Quinn. The younger boys arm didn’t leave your shoulders when you first arrived. Originally it was because the box was packed and you had the kind of luck that would have you lost within seconds. But after a while it grew comfortable there much to Quinn’s dismay and as a result he forced himself to muster up the confidence to go over and tell Trevor to hit the road.

Every jealous bone in Quinn melted when he saw your face light up “Quinny!” You giggled as you threw your arms around him, the moment was quickly interrupted with a scoff “how come I didn’t get that reaction?” Trevor pretended to act offended by it as he placed his hand on his chest. A smile formed on your lips as you placed a kiss on your middle finger before you flipped the younger boy off who ended up laughing as he walked off.

You got the chance to turn your attention back to the older boy “hi,” you giggled as you could still see the glare he was shooting at Trevor “Quinn?” You added as you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

Quinn forced a smile onto his face as he looked at you “what’s up?” He asked as you clearly now had his attention.

There was something on his mind that you were trying to figure out “you jealous?” You teased as you hadn’t really seen him like that before.

The boy let out a scoff “why should I be?” He shot back trying to play a defensive hand.

It was all clicking in your mind “you didn’t like how close he was getting to me!” You gasped as the Canucks player placed his hand over your mouth.

Quinn rolled his eyes as he could hear your muffled laugh from behind his hand “okay maybe a little,” he sighed as he dropped his hand “you’re cute when you get all jealous,” you teased as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

That seemed to hit a switch in his mind “fuck I missed you.” Quinn confessed as he wrapped his hands around your waist only being allow to give you a small hug as Ellen came over to you two the moment she saw your face.

the next morning

You groaned as you heard the noise of the knocks at your hotel room door “yeah?” You yawned as you swung the door open and were met with the younger of the two Hughes brothers “you know where Quinn is?” Luke asked as he sent you a smile when he held out a cup of coffee for you, it seemed that the boys made a pit stop on the way to your hotel.

Your lips pushed into a thin line “I haven’t seen Quinn since last night in the elevator,” you lied as you sipped the warm drink. You did see Quinn in that elevator, but it wasn’t the last time that you saw him.

Jack sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair “if you see him let us know?” He mumbled as Ellen had sent her sons on a mission to find him and they just thought that his best friends room would be a good place to start.

It was awkward “of course!” You nodded as you shut the door desperate to not say anything.

Quinn popped his head out from the bottom of your bed “you think they noticed me?” He asked as he cocked his head.

You fiddled with the ends of the shirt you were wearing “nope,” you looked like an absolute angel, hair all messy, lips swollen, the clear hickies that were beginning to form, and Quinn’s Canucks shirt.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned against the elevator wall “what are you thinking about?” Luke could see that there was clearly something working in his mind.

The middle Hughes boy snapped his fingers “you see that Canucks shirt she was in?” He asked as the T-shirt looked like it came from a team development camp.

Luke began to think about it as he also had your oath he had in his mind “yeah,” it was that moment that the penny seemed to drop “oh my god!”

You and Quinn were totally oblivious to it all as you had both been in the shower to ‘save time’ “come back here!” Quinn’s complaint drew a laugh from your lips.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he began to place kisses along your neck “Quinn!” You tried to move your head as the feeling of him was tickling your neck.

But all of a sudden when you went quiet the eldest Hughes boy stopped “what?” He asked as he scanned your face that was full of worry.

Alex 🖤: YOU FUCKED QUINN

Alex 🖤: I shouldn’t even be surprised

Alex 🖤: you did call him cute

Alex 🖤: on multiple occasions

Alex 🖤: just no making me an uncle just yet

“you think I’m cute all the time?”

“shut up,”

Maybe this time there will be more than enough time for you two.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #ambers 150 celly #amber writes fics

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yandere-romanticaa · 6 months

Text

Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader

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loveinhawkins · 9 months

Text

kept thinking about Eddie & Steve deliberately making jokes to ensure that Dustin and co don’t get into the boat on Lover’s Lake.

“Nicely done,” Steve says when they’re far enough away from the bank—when they’ve left a disgruntled Dustin behind rather than a worried one.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Eddie says—glances back to where the kids are, although they’ve already got swallowed up by the darkness. “‘Course, man.” He gives a weak smile as he drags the oar through the water. “Those little shrimps would probably try and, like, cannonball right in, and honestly? I, uh, really don’t think my heart could handle that.”

“Yeah, they… really throw themselves into things.”

Steve decides that he’s never gonna bring up Operation Child Endangerment if Eddie’s in the vicinity—the dude already looks at them all like they’ve got a few screws loose, he doesn’t wanna make it worse.

Although, on second thought, him and Dustin probably let that particular cat out the bag with their persistent optimism way back in the boathouse: “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie’s wide-eyed look painted a thousand words.

Oh, he thinks you’re crazy, sing-songed the perpetual high schooler hiding in Steve’s brain. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson thinks you’re crazy. Time to seriously re-evaluate your life choices.

“Did you think Eddie was a bit, uh, weird back there?” Dustin asked him later. “Like, he’ll be okay, right?”

Dustin was prone to using ‘weird’ as a catch-all term, where it could mean anything from someone being genuinely weird to them experiencing severe emotional distress.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Henderson, I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re weird.”

He almost wants to make a joke about that now, get Eddie to laugh, maybe. To tell the truth, Steve had almost cracked and laughed himself once he’d gotten into the boat, when he turned and saw Dustin’s comically outraged expression.

It was only as Nancy and Eddie began to row that he registered the laugh would’ve secretly been one of relief—heartened by the sight of the kids left on the shore.

He stays quiet; Eddie’s shoulders are slowly tensing more and more the further across the lake they go.

It’s not noticeable at first—Robin’s providing a running commentary on the movements of Dustin’s compass, while Nancy determinedly pulls her oar in and out of the water—but Steve soon realises that Eddie’s kind of stopped rowing, instead just making ripples as his grip goes slack.

It’s damn hard to see, but Steve just barely makes out Eddie’s eyes glittering in the dark, staring down at the lake.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “You don’t have to—we’re not too far out, we can take you back, man.” He tries for levity. “This thing holds three people tops, remember?”

Eddie’s smile is more of a grimace. “Nah, man. Had enough of being chickenshit.”

“Dude, you’re not…”

Steve trails off, biting back his frustration—it doesn’t look like Eddie’s listening to him anyway; he’s still not taken his eyes off the water. Steve briefly wonders if he’s got that thing Robin says she gets sometimes, something about an imp—it’s why she never gets on Ferris wheels or whatever, convinced that she’s somehow gonna fall.

Eddie gives himself a shake and resumes rowing.

“Sorry. S’just… pitch black down there. He—” Eddie clears his throat. “He wouldn’t have seen—”

His voice cracks, fades into the night. His grip on the oar slips—he snatches it back before it can fall.

“Eddie,” Steve begins, but Eddie speaks right over the top of him.

“I—I hoped he was just drowning instead.” Eddie scoffs, and there’s a bitterness to it, an edge of self-loathing that Steve wishes he couldn’t hear. “And then maybe—” A sigh, another grimace disguised as a smile. “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to think, huh?”

He’s got that tone, Steve thinks, like when he kept repeating that he ran away from Chrissy—like he thought that if he said it enough, someone would snap, condemn him. Like he’s looking for proof that he’s monstrous.

Robin’s still talking, tactfully giving Eddie a semblance of privacy. Underneath her chatter, Steve hears Nancy’s rowing falter for just a moment, and he feels a pang in his chest.

He thinks of Barb and drowning. Wonders again if an ordinary tragedy would’ve been better compared to…

Then he lets it all sink back down.

“That’s not fucked up,” he says firmly. “Trust me, dude, that’s… that’s normal.”

Eddie chuckles shortly—it sounds like he’s doing something similar, pushing everything down, down…

“Normal, huh? No-one’s called me that before.”

“First time for everything.”

There’s a flicker of amusement across Eddie’s face when he replies, “Guess compared to you freaks, I’m pretty normal.”

“Ooh, did that feel good?” Steve says, appealing again to his mental high schooler. “Bit of role reversal?”

Eddie laughs more genuinely. “Sure did. Community theatre’s done wonders.”

A silence falls, and Steve encourages himself to get all relaxed by the boat bobbing up and down. Yeah, nothing’s strictly been confirmed yet, but he already knew what he was getting into when he stepped off the shore, water leaking into his shoes.

It’s gotta be him.

“I know what you’re doing, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve gives him a questioning look.

Eddie pulls in some long breaths in exaggerated imitation. “You’re not subtle, Mister Swim Captain.”

“Co-captain,” Steve corrects, hiding his surprise. He can’t really imagine Eddie paying attention to the swim team, least of all a former swim team.

“Oh, forgive me for my inaccuracy.”

Hmm, he’s getting borderline poetic, Steve thinks. Like he was with Mordor and stuff.

So. He’s afraid.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says lightly.

Eddie lets out a short groan, mutters something that sounds like famous last words. Then, quieter still—Steve can’t quite make it out.

Something about the dark.

Steve could repeat that he’ll be fine, but he knows that’s a shit reassurance. He settles for continuing to breathe in and out, long and slow; Eddie’s beginning to look like he’s unconsciously mimicking the pattern, his shoulders lowering.

“Just come back up, Harrington,” he says, so softly that Steve might’ve imagined it.

“Co-captain’s promise,” he says.

Eddie’s lips twitch. But he’s still fixed on the lake’s depths, like he’s waiting for something—dreading it.

Like something’s lurking in the dark.

#the boat ride across Lover’s Lake #before the dive #pre steddie #eddie and the party #steve and the party #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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aalyssah · 11 months

Text

Defend You

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 1,318

Summary: Billy defends you when a guy harasses you at a party.

A/N: Haven't wrote for slashers in a while, so here I am. Hope You Enjoy!

You smoothed out the dress on your body, turning to the side you smiled at yourself in the mirror. "God, you look good." You jumped slightly at Billy's voice. "Babe, you scared me!" You said with a laugh.

Billy came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back into him. "Are you sure we have to go to that party? We could stay here and have a party of our own." He began kissing up your neck, erupting a giggle from you.

"Yes, y'know we promised Stu we would go." Billy let out an annoyed groan. You moved out his hold to grab the red lipstick. "Just let me do this and then we can go." You put the lipstick on and went downstairs.

"I'm ready!" Billy gave you one last look over and shook his head. "Babe, don't you think you should wear something more...longer?" You looked down at the dress, seeing it just above your thighs. "But you said it looked good." Billy nodded his head. "Yeah, for my eyes only!"

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him. " Forget it, we don't have time, let's go." You walked out to the car, hearing a groan from Billy. Probably by the way you swayed your hips when you walked.

Billy drove you both to the house and before you could turn in the neighborhood you could hear the loud bass of the music, bumping through the air. "Ugh, I know I'm gonna have a headache after this." Billy parked the car in a spot as he nodded his head in agreement.

"That's why we should've stayed him, but no, 'we promised Stu we would go.'" You gave him a death glare at his impression of you. "I don’t sound like that!" Billy got out of the car and walked to the other side and opened the door for you, putting his hand on the small part of your back.

You both walked up to the front door and before you could knock it swung open. "Billy, Y/n, come in!" You smiled at Stu and walked in. Instantly, y'all were met with bright lights flashing everywhere, loud music playing, the smell of alcohol in the air, and much more.

Stu guided you and Billy through the massive crowd of sweaty bodies to the mini bar. "I didn't think y'all would make it!" Stu exclaimed, grabbing 3 cups. "Drink?" You shook your head no, but Billy got some. Stu poured Billy some halfway, while he took a swing from the bottle.

You cringed at the thought of how his throat felt. "Don't you get tired of all that alcohol?" Stu began laughing as if you told some joke. "Nah, how could you? You should try some, loosen up y'know?" Stu was about to say something, but Tatum came to him.

"Babe, let's go back up to the room." She looked at you and smiled. "Oh, hey Y/n and Billy. Sorry, but imma borrow Stu for a couple of minutes or hours." Your face scrunched up in shame as you shook your head. "Those two can't keep their hands off each other."

You looked around the big house in amusement. "This house is beautiful. We should ask Stu how he got this, so we can get one for ourselves!" Billy chuckled. "You think this is Stu's?" You gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean? This isn't his?!"

Billy shook his head at you how shocked you were. “Baby, you need to calm down, loosen up like Stu said. Let's go dance." He stretched his hand out, waiting for you. You took his hand and went to the dance floor.

You both dance to the song, feeling everything fall away from your mind. Billy had a huge smile on his face as he saw how happy you were. He twirled you around, but you went too far when you bumped into someone.

You turned around ready to apologize. "I'm sor-" You stopped mid sentence when you saw who it was. "Oh look who we have here, bro. Billy and his freak girlfriend Y/n." You looked down at the ground, feeling somewhat hurt, but it didn’t surprise you that you would run into these two.

Ace and Max were two people you’ve known since elementary school. Ace was a bully. Saying anything he could where and whenever, no matter how the person feels, while Max is his sidekick, always hyping him up.

“You wanna talk shit, say it to my face." You perked up at Billy's voice almost forgetting he was there. "No, it's fine." Billy still stared at the two, ignoring your voice. “Awe look at that, Billy defending the freak.��

Ace laughed at Max’s remark, dapping him up. “Shut up Maxi Pad, no one’s talking to you.” You tried not to laugh at Billy’s clowning. “If I hear you say one more word about Y/n, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to speak.” Billy gently grabbed your arm and you both began walking back to the bar.

“Leaving so soon? It’s too bad Y/n’s with you otherwise I would come over there and show her what a real man’s like.” Billy tensed up at Ace’s call, ready to turn back and teach them a lesson, but you stopped him.

“Don’t. Let’s just go get some more drinks.” You both kept walking, but stopped when the sound of a loud smack noise echoed around the house. You jolted forward, eyes growing wide, your hands coming to your butt.

Ace just slapped your ass.

Billy didn’t hold back, finally letting out his rage. He quickly turned around, throwing a bone sickening punch to Ace. Ace fell to the ground, holding his hands over his face to shield himself. “Max, help me!” Max looked down at Billy seeing his friend getting beaten to a pulp.

Billy stood to his feet, getting in Max’s face. “You got something to say, huh?” Max shook his head, running out of there fast. “Billy, watch out!” You called out as you saw Ace swing. Ace managed to get up and land a good punch on Billy.

Stu came flying down the stairs with his short halfway buttoned. “Stu get them apart!” You begged. Stu pulled Billy off Ace, holding him back. “Just get outta here!” Stu yelled to Ace, watching as he scrambled up and ran out the house.

Stu let Billy go, looking back at everyone. “Keep partying everyone, it was just a little moment.” Fortunately, everyone started dancing again, bringing life back to the party. You grabbed Billy’s hand, guiding him upstairs.

You looked through each door in the hall until you found a first aid kit under the sink. You took it out, getting some stuff ready. “Can’t believe you did that, causing a scene.” You mumbled under your breath while cleaning up his nose.

“Well maybe he shouldn’t be talking shit about us and then slap your ass.” You scrunch your eyebrows down. “Now look at where that got you. You’re bleeding!”

Billy felt anger rise in his body at how you’re defending Ace. “Yeah because I defended you! I love you Y/n, and I’m not gonna let ANYONE disrespect you like that. I don’t care who it is.”

It was silent as you cleaned up his injuries, small cuts and bruises on his face, arms, and knuckles. You finished up, cleaning up your mess. “You wanna go home?” Billy nodded his head, taking your hand in his.

You both found yourself driving in the car. “Thank you for being here for me.” Billy looked over at you, a hand coming to your thigh, rubbing soothing comforting circles. “Of course. How else am I supposed to defend you if I’m not there?”

You were glad that he was here with you, otherwise you wouldn’t know what would’ve happened that night.

#billy loomis #billy loomis fluff #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis fanfiction #billy loomis smut #slasher fluff #slasher smut

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goldengalore · 1 year

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The Great War

Summary: Y/N wants to take a break from touring with Harry because the scrutiny from his fans has become too much to handle. During their time apart, Harry misses her deeply, but she seems happier without him. A cheating accusation leads to the biggest fight they’ve ever had.

Warnings: accusations of cheating, Y/N getting bullied, mention of slut-shaming, ANGST, smut (dom!harry, a little rough, choking)

Word count: 7.7k

A/N: This wasn’t originally based on The Great War by Taylor Swift, but while writing, I realized how well it fits the story so I started including elements from the song. Longest fic I’ve posted on here so far, enjoy! :)

***

Y/N has had enough.

She was so excited to go on tour with Harry. When her boss approved her request to work fully remotely for the next few months, she was over the moon because it meant that she could join him on the North American leg of his tour.

But some recent incidents with his fans have left a bad taste in her mouth, making her want to step away for a little while. Usually, she’s quite good at tuning out the nasty things that people say about her, but there is a big difference between someone talking shit about you on the internet versus in person. The latter is much more difficult to ignore.

Y/N had an absolute blast at the first few shows, singing and dancing wildly with Harry’s managers, Jeff and Tommy, in their little area by the pit. It was the fourth show of the tour when things began to go awry. A girl in the front row brought a sign that said, in thick black writing, “Blink twice if Jeff is forcing you to date Y/N # freeharry.”

The sign was huge; it was baffling that security had even allowed it into the venue. The people behind this girl were clearly irritated by the big piece of cardboard blocking their view, but she remained ignorant to the commotion she was causing. No, she was more focused on making sure the sign was visible not only to Harry but also Y/N.

Unfortunately for her, it was also visible to Harry’s managers, who were protective of Y/N like older brothers. Tommy instantly sent a security guard to confiscate the sign.

“What a stupid sign,” said Jeff. “Even if I could make Harry date anyone, it would obviously be Mitch.”

“Oh, obviously,” Y/N joked back.

Harry mentioned the sign to her later. He had noticed it, and the commotion it was creating in pit, during his performance of Daylight. He’d made a mental note to have security take it away once the song was over, but thankfully, Tommy got there first. Y/N told him it was fine, that she didn’t care. And at the time, she really didn’t. Why would she care about the opinion of some random teenage girl?

But at the next show, there was a group of girls at the back of pit who kept shooting her dirty looks, giggling amongst themselves, filming her while she was dancing, thinking they were being discreet. The most annoying part was that at the start of the show, one of them had walked up to Y/N to compliment her outfit, but it quickly became clear that the seemingly kind act was just part of their stupid game. It was like she’d been cast in a high school bullying PSA without her knowledge.

There were several more instances like that at the next few shows. It was getting to the point where Y/N could no longer tell who was being genuine and who wasn’t when they came up to chat with her. Any phones—or even mere glances—pointed in her direction made her feel deeply uncomfortable, like everything about her was being picked apart and scrutinized.

Tonight’s show is in Chicago. Y/N’s plan was to push through this one and wait until the morning to tell Harry that she needs a break from touring. But as she sits in his dressing room, watching him get ready, she can already feel her heart pounding and her stomach churning at the thought of being out there in the crowd tonight, and she realizes that she can’t do it. She just can’t.

When she tells Harry this, he looks at her with eyes full of concern.

“What’s wrong, lovie?”

“Nothing.” A conflicted sigh escapes her. “Let’s talk about it after the show. You need to get ready.”

“No, hey, tell me what’s wrong.” He walks over to the couch where she’s seated.

She really didn’t want to bring this up before the show. It’s just going to put a damper on his mood for the rest of the night. But knowing Harry, he’s not going to relent until she tells him what’s on her mind.

His stylist, Harry Lambert, is in the room with them, sifting through some clothes on the clothes rack.

“Lamby, do you mind if we have a minute alone?” asks Y/N.

“No, of course not. Just come get me when y’all are done.” Lambert leaves the room to give them some privacy.

Harry sits down next to Y/N, folding a leg under him and resting his arm on the back of the couch. She explains everything that’s happened at the shows lately and how it’s been getting to her. When she reveals that she wants to take a break, to get away from it all for a while, the light in his eyes seems to flicker out.

“You—you want to take a break?”

His expression is so despondent that she feels the need to clarify, “From tour, H. Not from our relationship.”

“No, I know. I just—” His gaze shifts to the floor by their feet. “Jesus. I didn’t know it was getting this bad. I mean, I saw the sign, but I thought that was it. I didn’t know people were being that cruel.” He shakes his head, looking at her now. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed what was happening.”

“You couldn’t have. You’re on stage the whole time, focused on putting on a good show, as you should be.”

“No, but we’re in the same bloody room, Y/N. And this was happening in pit. How could I not notice that? Fuck.” He rubs his hands over his face in frustration. “Fuck.”

“It’s not your fault,” she emphasizes, but it’s evident that he doesn’t believe that.

He has always been quite hard on himself about the harassment that Y/N receives from both the media and a certain part of his fanbase. Despite her reassuring him on several occasions that she doesn’t blame him for any of it, it doesn’t always stick.

“I’m going to speak to Jeff about this,” he suddenly says with conviction. “If it’s getting this bad, we need to say something about it publicly. I need to say something.”

His words take her by surprise. It’s rare for him to address any kind of drama publicly. And while it’s sweet that he wants to defend her and set the record straight once and for all, she’s not so sure that it’s the right move.

“What are you even going to say?” she asks. “‘Stop being mean to my girlfriend’? Yeah, that’ll go down real well.” She doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, but she can’t help it. Recent events have made her a little resentful inside. Not at him, just at the situation.

“Well, I’m not going to say it like that. I’ll think of something.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to say anything.”

“Yes, I do.”

She grabs his hand. “Well, I’m asking you not to. Okay? It’s not going to make people stop. It’s just going to bring more attention to me, which is the last thing I need right now.”

He studies her face, then sighs. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. What else can I do?”

“Nothing.”

It’s obvious that this answer is difficult for him to accept.

“Seriously, H. I just need some time away from the shows and the crowds and the traveling. Just until I get my head straight. That’s it.”

He nods and lifts her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

***

“Apparently, we’re broken up,” says Y/N, getting comfy in bed with her phone pressed against her ear.

She’s back in London now, in the home that she and Harry share.

“Again?” asks Harry on the other end of the line.

“Yeah! Found out from my mother, who called me in a panic this morning because of some article she read in the Daily Mail about how I haven’t been at your shows for the past two weeks and how that must mean we’ve broken up.”

He chuckles. “Oh, dear.”

“I’ve told her so many times not to believe a thing she reads on that stupid website. If she wants to know something about our relationship, literally all she has to do is ask us.”

“Hey, cut her some slack,” he says kindly. “She’s probably still adjusting to the madness.”

“We’ve been together for two years, H.”

“Well, it took my mum a lot longer than that after I started my career.”

He does have a point, she thinks to herself. Whenever she and her mom get into petty arguments, which happens annoyingly often, he somehow always gets her to see her mom’s side, immediately defusing the tension. That’s probably a big part of why her mom adores him so much.

“So, anyway,” she says, “how are things? How’s tour going?”

“It’s going well,” is all he says about it. “I miss you.”

She feels a twinge in her chest. “I know. I miss you too.”

“When do you think you’ll come back on tour?”

She sighs, rolling onto her back and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I feel like I’m just starting to get back into a good headspace... I need more time.”

“Okay.” His voice doesn’t give much away, but she knows he’s disappointed with her answer. “Two weeks.” He whistles. “Can you believe we’ve been apart for that long?”

She laughs. “What do you mean? We were apart for months at a time when you were touring last year, remember?”

“Sure, but now I know what it’s like having you on tour with me. Going to bed with you every night, seeing your pretty face every morning, watching you dance like a mad woman at my shows...”

She lets out another laugh.

“I’m spoiled now,” he says.

“So spoiled.”

There’s a brief pause where she can hear him shuffling around.

“Are you in bed right now?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“What are you wearing?”

She smirks, knowing exactly where this is going. They used to do this all the time when he was on tour last year—touch themselves while making flirty, filthy comments at each other over the phone, sometimes over video.

“One of your sweatshirts and—”

“Which one?” he interjects.

Looking down at her torso, she replies, “The blue Pleasing one with the frog on it.”

“Ooh, good choice. What else?”

“Just panties.”

“Hmm... That’s far too much clothing you’ve got on there.”

Her smirk grows wider. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Think you need to take some of it off... Or all of it.”

Giddy excitement takes over her. She sits up in bed. “If you say so! I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

Placing the phone next to her, she removes the sweatshirt, then her panties.

“Okay, clothes are off,” she tells him.

“Good girl. Now—”

His voice suddenly cuts off. She frowns, wondering if she’s lost him.

“Hello? H?”

“Sorry, I’m getting another call. Need to take this. Be back in a sec.”

She sits there and waits for him to return to the call. A couple minutes later, he’s back.

“Hey, my love, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

Her excitement deflates. “Aw, really?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I was supposed to meet with Rob tonight but just found out he can’t make it, so he wants to have our chat over the phone now instead. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, suppressing the slight frustration she felt at being interrupted right as the fun was starting. “Good luck with the call.”

“Thank you. I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says in a haste.

“Love you.”

And with that, he hangs up. She flops back down on the bed, still naked after he made her undress. Looks like she’ll just have to make herself cum by imagining what else he was going to make her do on the phone, which isn’t nearly as fun as actually being on the phone with him... But oh well.

***

It’s a bright, sunny day out. The middle of October, so there’s a slight chill in the air but not quite cold yet, and some of the trees have shed their leaves while others still hang on to theirs.

Half of the North American tour is over. To celebrate and thank the crew for all their hard work so far, Harry decided they should have a crew barbecue on a day off between shows. He likes making sure that every single person involved with the tour feels appreciated. As the performer, he gets all the praise and attention from the fans, so it can be easy to feel invisible or undervalued if you’re someone who works more behind the scenes.

That is also why he makes an effort to walk around and chat with everyone at these barbecues, ask them about their lives and their families back home, make them the focus of attention for once.

During his conversation with the lighting technician, Laura, she brings up Y/N.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask. Is Y/N coming back on tour?”

The question catches him off guard because he’s been trying hard not to think about Y/N’s absence.

“Um, yeah, probably,” he replies, though he’s not even sure if he believes that himself.

“When do you think she’ll be back?”

He stares down at the cup of lemonade in his hands. “I don’t know... At some point.”

“It’s awful, the things I see on the internet about her sometimes.” Laura tuts and shakes her head. “I feel so bad for her. She seems like a sweet girl.”

He nods. “She is.”

“I hope she knows none of us here believe any of that crap. I had a lot of nice conversations with her.”

When he speaks to a few other crew members, they ask him the same thing—if Y/N is ever coming back. He never realized how much of an impact she made on these people, even though she was only around for two weeks. It’s not surprising though. She has such a warm presence that after you meet her, everything else feels cold to the touch.

All of this talk about Y/N leaves him feeling a multitude of emotions. Love and longing, sadness and guilt.

After the barbecue is over, he steps away to give her a call. He wants to tell her all the nice things people said about her today in the hopes that she’ll realize how loved and accepted she is here. But she doesn’t pick up.

He sighs and decides to open up Instagram. Lately, he has been getting doses of her by looking through the photos and stories posted by her close friends. Y/N stopped posting much on her own Instagram soon after they got together and people started bombarding her page with vile comments. So, her friends are his best source of Y/N content.

Their recent stories reveal that she went out to a concert last night. This is the third one she’s been to in the past couple weeks. In one clip, she’s singing along and dancing with a girl he recognizes as her best friend Michelle. In the next one, there’s a guy dancing between them, his arms strewn around both women’s shoulders. Harry doesn’t know who he is, but he’s been in a lot of the posts lately. And Y/N is always somewhere near him.

As he scrolls through Michelle’s posts, he notices Y/N in the background of a photo taken at some party. She’s standing with that same guy, her head tilted back in laughter. Then there’s a video of the whole friend group saying goodbye to each other at the end of a night out, and Y/N is giving the guy a hug.

Harry experiences two separate pangs of jealousy at once. One is the result of seeing Y/N so carefree and comfortable at other people’s shows. He knows it’s selfish, but he just wishes she felt that comfortable at his shows as well.

The other is the result of seeing some other guy all over his girlfriend while he’s an entire ocean away from her.

His phone is turned off and placed back in his pocket. He finishes what’s left of his lemonade, suddenly wishing it was liquor instead.

He needs to get his mind off all this. The barbecue may be over, but he has the rest of the day to do whatever he wants. And while he would normally use this time for something productive—like working out, meditating, or writing music—he’s not in the mood for any of that today. No, he’s only in the mood to drown out his emotions.

***

Despite being back in London, Y/N has still been working remotely. It’s just far more convenient, and she doesn’t have much of a reason to be at the office in person. She can also work whenever she wants, as long as she gets her eight hours in.

On Fridays, she prefers to start work extra early so that she can finish early and get a head start on the weekend. Today, the clock barely hits 7 a.m. before she sits down in her home office and gets to work.

Just as she’s starting to get in the zone, her phone rings. It surprises her to see Harry pop up on the screen—saved as just “H💘” in her phone. His next show takes place in Toronto, which is likely where he is at the moment.

She picks up, already smiling. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi,” he says. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up for a while. Just getting some work done.” She swivels from side to side in her office chair. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there?”

“Yeah...” He doesn’t say anything else.

“Is everything okay?” she asks slowly.

“Mhm. Everything’s fantastic,” he mumbles.

“Okay...” She hears a car horn in the background. “Where are you right now?”

“Dunno. Was at a bar earlier. Had some poutine. It sucked... The poutine, not the bar. The bar was cool.”

It’s only now that she realizes he’s slurring his words quite a bit. It’s been a while since she’s seen him get drunk, so it didn’t even cross her mind until now.

“Are you drunk?”

“Mmmm... Perhaps, a smidge.”

Definitely more than a smidge, she thinks to herself.

“Okay, something’s definitely up. You don’t drink like this on tour, nor do you stay up this late.”

He scoffs. “Who came up with that stupid rule?”

She laughs and quirks a brow. “Uh, you did? Because you want to be at your best when you’re on stage, which is hard to do when you're hungover and sleep-deprived?”

He’s silent. His uncharacteristic behaviour is starting to make her uneasy.

“What’s going on, H? Talk to me.”

It’s a long time before he finally says something.

“I miss you.” His voice is so soft and quiet when he says it that she almost doesn’t hear him.

Her chest constricts. “Oh, baby, I miss you too.”

“Do you though?”

She frowns. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“Well, lately, it doesn’t seem that way... Seems like I miss you more than you miss me.” He sounds sad, but there’s also a bitterness underlying his tone that Y/N isn’t used to hearing.

“That is not true. Why would you think that?”

“Because I see it, Y/N,” he says, his voice becoming more resolute. “I see it in the photos and—and the stories that your friends post when you go out with them to those parties and shows and all that. You seem so much happier without me.”

Each word he says seems to add to her confusion. “You can’t be serious right now. You’re upset that I’m spending time with my friends?”

She hears him sigh heavily. For the first time in their conversation, she feels irritated with him.

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” he grumbles.

“Then what—”

“You’re going out to all these shows, Y/N. I thought—I thought you said you needed time away from the crowds? Time to yourself? What happened to that?”

“I am taking time to myself.” She huffs, adding sarcastically, “Sue me for going to a show here and there to have some fun.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Excuse me?”

“That bloke you’re always with in the background of these photos. He’s got his arm around you in one of them. He’s always touching you this way and that. Who is he?”

Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach at his words, at the implication and the accusatory tone behind them. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Have you been reading the Daily Mail like my mother?”

“This is not funny, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. You sound like someone who’s been reading those tabloids, which is the last thing I would’ve expected from you.”

“I’m just explaining what I saw,” he says flatly. “If I’m wrong, just tell me I’m wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you!” She feels her anger rising. Her fingers fiercely clutch the arm of her chair as she sits up straighter. “I shouldn’t because you know what? For the past two years, I’ve put up with so many bullshit rumours about you being seen with some female friend of yours and people assuming that you’re fucking her behind my back, and I have never once suspected that you were cheating on me. Not once! Why? Because I trust you! And now, you see a harmless picture of me with a guy friend and you assume I’m cheating? When did you become so possessive and so—so fucking needy?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses.

“Well, that’s how you’re acting. Like a jealous, possessive, needy fucking boyfriend.”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being—” She lets out a humorless laugh. Some part of her feels like he’s purposely trying to get under her skin, while another part of her thinks he’s just saying whatever comes to his intoxicated mind, and she doesn’t know which part is right. Her head is beginning to throb. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’m calling Jeff to go get you.”

“I don’t need anyone to come get me. I’m not a fucking child.”

“No, but you need someone to knock some sense into you, and I can’t stand you right now, so I’m sending Jeff.”

“Y/N, don’t hang u—”

She hangs up on him and immediately locates Jeff’s number in her contacts.

“Y/N?” he answers after several rings, his voice groggy and thick with sleep.

“Jeff, hey. Sorry for waking you. Look, do you know where Harry is right now?”

“Um... Asleep in his room, probably. Why?”

“No, he’s not. He is drunkenly wandering the streets of Toronto right now by himself.”

There’s a pause as he processes what she just said. “What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, he just called me. We...” We had a fight, is what she wants to say, but she holds herself back. “You need to go get him.”

“Did he say where he is exactly?”

“No. He just mentioned having some bad poutine at a bar earlier.”

“Oh, I was with him when we had the poutine. It was really fucking bad... But that was hours ago. What’s he still doing out?”

“I don’t know.” The next few words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, “He accused me of cheating on him.”

“He what?” The incredulity in his voice makes her feel just a tiny bit better because it means that he knows she would never do something like that.

“Yeah. Can you believe it? After everything...” Her voice cracks as the lump that has been forming in her throat ever since her conversation with Harry finally bursts and makes her eyes brim with tears.

“Y/N,” Jeff begins, carefully choosing his words, “he hasn’t been doing so well lately. Mentally, I mean. He misses you—”

“That’s not a good excuse,” she argues.

“—And he’s really beating himself up over what you went through at the start of tour. He feels so guilty.”

“Well, I feel guilty too!” She sniffles and wipes at her tears angrily, annoyed that they won’t stop coming. “Guilty that I can’t be there to support him on tour like I promised I would. Like his previous girlfriends did. God, Jeff, I feel like such a shitty girlfriend.”

“His previous girlfriends weren’t getting anywhere near the amount of hate you’re getting. And no one blames you for not being on tour, Y/N. Especially not Harry. He’s just being an idiot right now.”

Although she knows that everything he’s saying is rational and true, her emotional turmoil keeps her from fully believing it.

“You should go get him,” she says, rubbing her temples. “And can you please text me when you find him? Just so I know he’s safe.”

“Of course.”

As soon as she gets off the phone with Jeff, a state of exhaustion overcomes her. It’s been less than two hours since she woke up, yet it feels like she’s gone through a whole day within the past fifteen minutes. Abandoning her workstation, she crawls back into bed, pulling the covers over her head as the endless flood of tears flows from her eyes.

***

Harry fucked up. Immensely. He knows it the moment he wakes up the morning after his fight with Y/N. He reaches for his phone to call her, to apologize, but something stops him.

Pride? Guilt? Fear? All of the above?

He ends up waiting a while before reaching out to her. A week goes by before he finally calls her, and as expected, she doesn’t pick up. He tries again and again for several days, texting her after each attempt, begging her to talk to him, to let him explain himself. But it’s no use.

She has iced him out.

The rest of tour feels like a blur. Being on stage still gives him an indescribable high, but that disappears as soon as he’s alone again.

Returning home to London after his last show is a relieving yet nerve-wracking experience because he doesn’t know what to expect from Y/N. They haven’t spoken in weeks. He has been using Michelle’s Instagram posts to keep up with her and to know that she’s okay.

Now, he takes a deep breath before entering the house with his luggage. Everything is completely silent. He wonders if she’s even home.

“Y/N!” he calls out. “I’m home!”

No response.

He sighs and makes his way upstairs. He finds her in her office, working at her desk with big noise-cancelling headphones on, her back to the door.

“Y/N?” he says from the doorway.

When she still doesn’t hear him, he walks up behind her and gently touches her shoulder. She jumps and yanks the headphones off her head.

“Oh my God. You scared the shit out of me.” She clutches her chest.

“Sorry, lovie. I was calling your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

She spins around in her chair and stands up. He expects her to walk out of the room or say something to indicate that she’s still upset with him, but all she does is slide her arms around his torso and press her cheek against his chest.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says.

It takes him a moment to recover from the shock. Wrapping his arms around her, he replies, “Me too.”

They hug for a good minute. He starts thinking about the apology speech he had prepared.

When she pulls away, he says, “Maybe we should talk about—”

“There’s no need. It’s all forgotten.” She pushes up on her toes to kiss him, but he retreats slightly to study her expression.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” She gives him a reassuring smile that seems believable enough, so he lets her kiss him.

And instantly, he melts at the velvety feeling of her lips against his. One of the many things he’s missed about her during their time apart. As soon as she parts her lips, his tongue darts into her mouth. With his hand under her jaw, he tilts her head upward to taste her more fully. He wants to devour her.

Pulling away, he asks, “Bedroom?”

“Yes.”

He grabs her hand and leads her out of her office to their shared bedroom down the hall. Their clothes come off in record time, and they’re making out again, hands all over each other’s bare bodies.

“I want you,” Y/N says between passionate kisses.

She nudges him towards the bed until he sits down on the edge of it. Then she gets down on her knees between his legs, eyeing his erect cock like it’s an object of worship.

She takes him into her mouth inch-by-inch, wrapping her hand around anything that doesn’t fit. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, engulfed by the pleasurable sensation of her tongue gliding against his cock.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good on me,” he breathes out.

Encouraged by his praise, she takes more of him into her mouth, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat. Then she pulls her head back until only his tip rests on her tongue and takes him back in. She repeats this gesture while fondling his balls at the same time.

His hand slips into her hair. She starts deliberately slowing down at one point, teasing him by only keeping the head of his dick in her mouth, licking the tip over and over to drive him insane. His body reacts by bucking his hips to push more of himself into her. His hand keeps her head in place as he begins guiding his length in and out of her mouth all on his own.

His ragged breaths and moans are the only sound filling the room. He forces himself to stop before he can cum and removes his cock from her mouth. The way she gazes up at him, eagerly awaiting his next move, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“I need to be inside you. Get up here.” He pats the bed beside him, and she climbs up. He kisses her, tasting himself on her mouth, then says, “Hands and knees for me, sweetheart.”

Compliantly, she turns around and gets on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He shifts to get behind her, admiring the view granted by this position. His fingers find their way between her legs and come away coated with her juices.

“Fuck. You’re soaking,” he remarks, inserting two fingers inside her hole. “Who’s got you so wet, hmm?”

“You.” She exhales with pleasure.

“Sorry, didn’t hear that.”

“You, you,” she repeats. “God, only you.”

He smirks and inserts a third finger, making her squirm and moan. She pushes her hips back to get as much of his fingers inside her as possible. He allows her to get off on his fingers for a bit, then retracts them without warning. A disappointed whine leaves her at the sudden emptiness filling her pussy.

But she doesn’t stay empty for long, as he aligns his tip with her entrance and begins filling her up little by little, giving her pussy a chance to adjust to him. It’s been so long since he’s felt her tight walls squeeze his cock like this. Too long.

He pulls out of her, then thrusts himself back in with more force, releasing a grunt. Y/N gasps and collapses onto her forearms. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanks her head back, causing her back to arch and allowing him the perfect angle to drive his length deep into her.

“Harry,” she moans his name, and he swears he can cum right then and there but he restrains himself.

He tugs on her hair a bit more, then shifts his hand to wrap around the front of her neck, pulling her back against his torso.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers in her ear. “God, I missed having you like this.”

Her pussy clenches around him. He continues fucking her hard while squeezing the sides of her neck. Her mouth is agape, her pants and moans and whimpers mixing together beautifully.

“Can I cum?” she asks breathlessly.

“Maybe,” he teases. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please, can I cum? Please?”

“Of course you can, sweet girl. Cum for me.” He presses his lips against her temple as she unravels in his hold. Her body convulses against his. “That’s it, baby.”

His orgasm follows right after hers. He finishes deep inside her warm, wet pussy, which milks every last bit of cum from his cock. Once he lets go of her neck, she sinks onto her stomach on the mattress.

He lays on top of her as they both recover from their highs, peppering kisses along her neck and the backs of her shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispers.

She just smiles and turns her head a bit more to catch his mouth in a kiss. The lack of a verbal response from her doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

He rolls off of her after a few minutes. She immediately sits up.

“Are you hungry? I can make us something,” she offers.

“Uh, sure, but—”

“Okay, great, I’m hungry too. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.” She leans down and pecks him on the cheek, then hesitates briefly before saying, “Love you.”

Grabbing her clothes, she disappears into the bathroom before he can even register what just happened.

He was hoping they would spend some time cuddling, which is usually what they do after sex, but Y/N seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the room. Not to mention how long it took her to return his “I love you.” If all really is forgotten as she claims, then why is she acting so strange?

He expects her confusing behaviour to continue after he takes a shower and goes downstairs to eat with her, but by then, she seems to be acting like herself again, telling stories and joking around with him.

Maybe everything really is fine and he’s just being paranoid. That’s got to be it.

***

Y/N tried to act like everything was fine after Harry got home from tour. But you can only repress your emotions for so long before they start expressing themselves in other, unexpected ways...

A few days after Harry’s return, he and Y/N attend an engagement party hosted by their friends, Mary and Laila, who got engaged last week.

Harry is attached to Y/N’s side for most of the night, only stepping away to go use the washroom. He’s gone for quite some time, during which Y/N mingles with other people at the party. When he eventually comes back fifteen minutes later, he places his arm around her waist and a kiss to her temple.

“That was a long bathroom break,” she remarks, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I ran into Ava on the way back and we were catching up.”

Ava is an ex-girlfriend whom he’s still good friends with. Y/N notices a red, oval-shaped mark on his left cheek right next to his lips.

“Is that lipstick on your face?”

He reaches up to touch his cheek and laughs. “Oh, yeah, she just kissed me as a joke.”

“I hope that’s all it was.”

Y/N already knows that’s all it was. She’s known Ava for a while and is well-aware that their friendship is entirely platonic. In fact, her comment has nothing to do with Ava. It’s just the result of her petty need to get back at him for what he accused her of weeks ago.

She watches as his smile fades.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” she says. “When the roles are reversed?”

“I knew it. You’re still upset with me.”

She turns away but still feels his eyes on her. Before he can say more, one of their friends comes up to Y/N and starts talking to her, preventing their conversation from going any further.

Silence fills the car on their ride home from the party. Harry drives. Y/N stares out the window the whole time.

As soon as they step past the threshold of their house, he states, “We need to talk.”

“I’m not really in the mood.” She slips off her heels and heads upstairs. He follows closely behind.

“You can’t keep avoiding this, Y/N. We’re going to have to talk about it at some point or this relationship’s not going to survive.”

She reaches the top of the stairs before replying, “It wasn’t going to survive anyway.”

She knows those words are like a slap in the face to Harry. They make him pause in his tracks. Meanwhile, she continues toward their bedroom, the flames of her fury crackling inside her.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, joining her in the bedroom a moment later.

She talks while changing out of her party dress, “Because you don’t trust me, Harry, and everyone knows a relationship without trust is doomed to fail.”

He sighs and sits down on the bed. “I do trust you. I just made a mistake, all right? I was drunk and—”

“Classic excuse.” She pulls on a pair of comfy shorts and an old worn-out t-shirt of hers.

“Not making excuses. I take full responsibility for what I said. I’ve apologized so many times over text, and I wanted to apologize in person when I got home from tour, but you were the one who didn’t want to talk and I respected that.”

“How generous of you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you stop with the little quips? It’s bloody annoying.”

“Annoying? That’s it? I’m being called way worse online,” she says with a bitter smile.

His gaze drops to the floor. “You know I don’t look at that stuff, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Kind of hard not to when people are spamming my friends’ comments, accusing me of cheating on you, slut-shaming me for hanging out with any guy who isn’t you. You know, none of it would bother me that much if my own boyfriend didn’t believe it too.”

“I don’t! Jesus, Y/N. I don’t believe any of that.”

“Oh, really? Then why did it take you a whole week to reach out to me after our fight on the phone?”

He swallows and stares down into his lap. “I—I was just trying to give you space. I was... I was...”

“You were what?” She prompts him to finish his sentence, but when he doesn’t, she fills in the blanks for him, “You were still trying to figure out if you were right about me cheating. It wasn’t just something you said by accident while you were drunk. You really believed it. Didn’t you?”

He closes his eyes, defeated. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head and turns away from him, clenching her jaw. “God, I can’t even look at you right now. I’m so fucking angry.”

“I was scared, Y/N,” he says in a small voice.

When she looks at him, his green irises are swimming in tears. She hates how the sight instantly makes her soften.

“Of what?” she asks.

“I was scared that I was losing you. No one should have to put up with the shit that you put up with on a daily basis just for being with me. It keeps getting worse. It’s—it’s like the more success I have, the more people in my life suffer and I don’t know how to make it stop and it kills me, Y/N. It absolutely kills me.” The tears escape his eyes now, freely roaming down his cheeks.

“Baby...” Y/N’s heart breaks for him. It shatters. She walks over to him and takes his face in her hands, wiping her thumbs under his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He keeps repeating himself, his hands trembling in his lap.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She pulls his head into her chest and gently runs her fingers through his curls to calm him down.

Once he seems calmer, she suggests that they go to sleep for now and have a proper conversation tomorrow when they’re both fully rested. So, they get ready for bed and crawl under the covers together. Y/N invites him to nestle his head against her shoulder and plays with his hair until he falls asleep.

***

The next morning, she wakes up before him. He’s lying on his stomach next to her, his cheek adorably squished against the pillow. He looks extremely kissable, so she can’t help but lean over to plant the softest kiss on his face.

Then she lays there, staring up at the ceiling while her mind ponders over last night’s events. The heart-wrenching look on Harry’s face as he confessed his fear of losing her is engraved in her brain.

Jeff had told her that he wasn’t doing well, that he felt guilty about all the animosity she’d become victim to. But at the time, she was too angry—justifiably—to give it much thought. Now that the anger has subsided and she understands the real reason behind Harry’s accusation, she feels nothing but compassion and empathy for him.

His eyes flutter open a few minutes later. She turns her head to the side to look at him.

“Morning, handsome.”

He smiles and mumbles sleepily, “Morning.”

They stare at each other for some time, basking in the sunlight streaming through the curtains and in each other’s presence.

“So, I was thinking...” Y/N begins. “It’s Saturday. We’re both free. Why don’t we go on a long walk today?”

He nods. “Yes, please. We haven’t done that in a while.”

That afternoon, they prepare for their walk, bundling up in layers to insulate from the crisp weather of early December. They pack some snacks and a blanket into a tote bag in case they decide to sit and eat somewhere for a bit. Harry hikes the bag onto his shoulder and they head out.

As they stroll through the park with Y/N’s arm looped around his, they pass by several people walking their dogs. One particularly adorable pup catches Y/N’s attention as it scampers by.

“Oh, look at how cute that puppy is!” she coos, tugging on Harry’s arm. “Ugh, I want a dog so badly.”

“We can get one, you know.”

She gives him a look. “H, you’re on tour, like, nine months out of the year. We’d be the most absent dog parents ever.”

“Yeah, but when I’m on tour, you’ll still be here, right? So, the dog won’t be alone.”

She realizes that he’s going off the assumption that she won’t be joining him on tour in the future. “About that...” she says. “I came up with a plan.”

He quirks an inquisitive brow.

“Since I went remote at work, a few other people have as well. My boss likes how productive everyone’s been, and she wants to make a permanent shift to remote work in the new year. So, I was thinking that I’d join you on tour for a few weeks at a time, and whenever I feel like I need a break, I’ll just come back to London for a little while, then fly back out to you. How does that sound?”

She looks at him, and it’s apparent from the way he’s biting his lip that he’s trying to contain his excitement.

“Perfect. That sounds perfect,” he says, hesitating before adding, “Honestly, I thought you’d never come to another one of my shows again. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she states firmly. “That’s exactly what the assholes want, isn’t it? They want me to skip the shows. Well, they can’t get rid of me that easily! In fact, they’ll have to physically pry me away from you if they really want me gone.”

He laughs. “How romantic.”

“I’m serious!”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

Later into their walk, they find a secluded area in the grass to lay out their blanket and rest while munching on snacks. Y/N offers him some Skittles. As he reaches into the bag, digging around to find the red ones he really likes, Y/N says, “H, I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” He finds a red Skittle and pops it in his mouth.

“I need you to promise me that you’re going to stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control.”

He stares at her, slightly puzzled.

“The things that people say about me, or anyone in your life for that matter, are out of your control,” she explains, “and if you keep blaming yourself, it’s only going to destroy you.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the clear blue sky. “I know. I try so hard not to. It’s just reached a whole other level these past couple years, and I feel so helpless. Feel like I should be doing more to protect you.”

“You’re doing the best you can.” She reaches out to caress his cheek. “And I don’t need you to protect me. All I need is for you to trust me when I say that I’m not going anywhere.”

He turns his head to kiss the inside of her palm.

“I’ll always be yours, H.”

The last three months may have been the most trying period of their relationship so far, but Y/N wouldn’t change a thing because what they went through only strengthened their bond. They learned their lessons. The worst is over. They may always look back on this time with a bittersweet reminiscence, but one thing is for certain: they won’t put each other through anything like that again.

And if they were able to get through this and still stay together, Y/N feels confident that they can face anything.

***

Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #dom!harry #harry fic #harry smut #my writing

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haesunflower · 1 year

Text

zb1 finds out they were not your top pick

genre: reaction, comedy, sad for some

pairing: reader (mostly gn) x all members of zerobaseone

about/tags: reaction when they find out you didn't one-pick vote them or they weren't your main pick

established relationship unless stated otherwise, yujin's context is friendship only, bullet point reactions, lowercase intentional, junhyeon and jeonghyeon make an appearance!

⠀⠀ kim jiwoong ⠀⠀

"babe i have a confession to make"

you sounded so serious and you looked so nervous, so he put down his phone to put all his attention into what you were going to say

then you confessed that you were so busy during one-pick voting you didn't get to vote for him consistently and it was eating you alive

he released a sigh of relief then laughed

is kinda endeared with the fact that you blurted that out to him and that it warranted a "confession"

honestly was kinda unbothered

he made it in the debut group and that's all that matters to him

stands up to place a kiss on your head

"that's it? don't worry about it babe "

⠀⠀ zhang hao ⠀⠀

he founds out because he finds your voting certificates screenshots

he kinda deadpans and goes "ricky? you voted for ricky??"

and you have to explain that you were sure he was gonna land AT LEAST 2ND no matter what, so you had to vote for other people you wanted in the lineup

he agrees with your stance

and commends your argumentative reasoning

you end up talking about the strategies you applied in the different rounds of voting, and he shares about his strategies when choosing concepts for each mission

you're both very smart people that understand how survival shows work

⠀⠀ sung hanbin ⠀⠀

when you tell him that you alternated voting him and zhanghao during the one pick round he jokes that maybe that's why he ended up in 2nd place

but he's genuinely joking, he says that whole sentence with a huge smile on his face

you don't take it a joke and you start crying

full on tears

"i'M soRRY it's my fault as to why you don't get your own song"

you look like this (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) at this point

he giggles and kisses your tears away

"love...i was joking, please stop crying"

"i cAN'T"

⠀⠀ seok matthew ⠀⠀

actually....this one might cause a fight

he actually has to leave the room for a while to think it over

i can see him being so sad over it like :(( "i thought you only supported me"

keeps bugging you to ask who you ended up voting for

when you answer jiwoong he sorta just goes..

"....ok fair"

but he's still going to be sad about it

is very open with you that he feels disappointed

your relationship is very new though so he's trying to be understanding

you work 10 x harder to reassure him that you're his #1 priority nowadays

⠀⠀ kim taerae ⠀⠀

he's lying on your lap when he asks "you voted for me everyday right?"

"well....."

immediately sits right up

"you see, there's just so many talented people, i couldn't really choose....and well..."

you're trying to make up words as you go, rambling at this point

the truth is you voted for him every damn day you just wanted to see his reaction

he's so patient with you and holds your hands as you're trying to explain

makes direct eye contact with you, eyebrows knit awaiting the point you're getting at

you realize you took it too far

so you just bring out your phone and pull out your album of voting certificates

"i'm joking. sorry, i just wanted to get your reaction"

literally smiles so big and takes the phone from your hand as he scrolls through the album

album name: for taerae's dream

⠀⠀ ricky ⠀⠀

this one is an actual fight, well, a petty one

you're getting ready to go to dinner with friends when ricky facetime calls you

"i heard from taerae that you like jeonghyeon"

and you're like ??? "yeah i think he's talented, why?"

"he's your one-pick?"

"if you're asking if I voted for him, then yes i did"

then he just hangs up

he ignores the calls and texts you send after that, and literally doesn't reach out to you again until the next day

he caves when he opens your 50+ unread messages & sees the pictures of a long handwritten apology in 3 diff languages (yes, idol-like apology)

he smiles, then realizes he's supposed to be annoyed, then smiles again

he didn't mean to be this petty so he calls you back to apologize as well

⠀⠀ kim gyuvin ⠀⠀

when you're playing truth or dare and he asks you who your one pick was

he instantly regrets it

"don't feel bad okay, but it was gunwook"

he pretends it doesn't bother him but it does

mainly because he previously compared himself to gunwook a lot and he's starting to think that even in dating you, there's competition

and it doesn't help that you guys are so fresh into the relationship

he forces out a little laugh but I guess you can tell it's fake

bc you distract him from his thoughts by kissing his nose

"stop overthinking silly, i said it WAS...was like past tense"

takes your word for it, and holds your hand tightly, intertwining your fingers

⠀⠀ park gunwook ⠀⠀

never let him find out .

i'm serious never .

mainly because you know how gunwook gets

he likes it when your attention is on him 100% of the time

but that failed when one of your alarms went off and it said "vote for junhyeon"

he just looked at you like ᯣ_ᯣ what do you mean vote for junhyeon

you had to explain that you had another device where you were voting for junhyeon every day too so that he could debut with his best friend

while you expected him to be kinda pouty he totally wasn't

he just looked at you softly before tugging you into a warm embrace and said

"thank you for always thinking of me"

⠀⠀ han yujin ⠀⠀

(not romantic) (if you want to know why read my important announcement)

after the finale, the class groupchat blew up full of congratulatory messages for yujin

in midst of the chaos, of your classmates exposed you for being a gyuvin stan

classmate a: yah y/n, why are you typing you didn't even vote for yujin

classmate b: all you did was talk about gyuvin everyday

yujin sends a photo of gyuvin's autograph he promised to get you

yujin: guess this is going in the trash, y/n

you: waIT NO plEASE yujin i voted for you up until we could only pick one

yujin just seenzones you

everyone laugh reacts at the message exchange

A/N: this was funny thanks for requesting!

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

✎ mobile masterlist

✉︎ request

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way.

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message.

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do?

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send.

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible.

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself.

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love.

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??!

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks.

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up.

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too.

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

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