#but it's actually really humiliating being forced to ask someone to open a bottle for me just so that i can have a drink

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Hi if you struggle with opening containers (jars, bottles, etc) because of poor grip strength or w/e, there's lid opener tools that range from fancy electronic ones to super cheap and basic ones and they can be an absolute game changer. I have one that looks like an angry can opener and now I can actually open bottles on my own without wanting to break down crying from the pain.

#i don't know how to explain mine it's got a lot of spikes #if you search 'lid opener' you'll find a bunch and you'll know it when you see it #i didn't want to put this in the actual post because i don't want it to be misinterpreted #but it's actually really humiliating being forced to ask someone to open a bottle for me just so that i can have a drink #especially when i've been working at it for a while and i can't really use my hand anymore from the strain

[watchmegetobsessed]

Floating Through Space - Harry Styles

a/n: im literally bursting from excitement over this, i’ve been working on this fic for so long and im pretty satisfied with how it turned out so i hope you’ll like it too! pleas please PLEASE don’t let this flop bc it means a lot to me 🥺 the song featured in the fic is obviously an existing one, i linked it into the right place so you can listen to it and get the vibe of it, that song is what inspired the whole story so i recommend giving it a listen! leave your thoughts and reactions, i can’t wait to read what you thought about the fic!!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

warning: drug use, smut and everything thats wrong with patriarchy lmao

word count: 25.7k

masterlist

This dressing room is no different than the other one thousand you’ve been to. The plaster on the wall is all cracked up, the red bricks peeking from under it in the corner, the dusty couch looks like it’s been through hell and just sitting on it would probably give you STDs. The mirror on the wall is cracked, the few water bottles you’ve gotten are not even cooled, they’re a warm room temperature. The glorious life of a musician, right?

Moments like this you question why you didn’t just choose to be the obedient daughter and became a surgeon like your parents always wanted you to be. You’d have a steady future and a nice income, a decent career instead of having to perform at a different bar every other night for nicks and pennies that barely cover your rent at the end of the month. But that wouldn’t be you. Wearing scrubs, smiling at patients, throwing out your dignity along with your dreams, you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you chose that life. Besides, you’d still be in school, barely nearing the halfpoint of your education if you decided to go along with your parents’ plan and it’s clearer than daylight that the school system is just not for you. It would be pure torture if you had to sit in classes for a decade just to work a job you never even wanted.

Looking around the small dressing room you cast your eyes over your band that consists of three people. It’s a temporary set up from three guys you met along your way, all of the struggling musicians as you and you saw the as opportunities. Places would rather have a band play with several men in it than just put one single woman on stage and pray for the best. It’s the sexist part of the industry not enough people talk about. You can’t even count how many pitying stares you’ve gotten through the years when you stated that you want to make a career as a solo female singer.

“Honey, you ain’t making it without at least one man behind you,” is what they’ve always told you. So you’ve gotten yourself three until you could stand on your own two feet without a male backup. You’re using them just as much as they are using you. They were already a band when you joined them, the lead singer just disappeared to thin air with her boyfriend and left them incomplete, so you joined forces to navigate your way together in the depth of the music industry, looking for that big jump everyone is dreaming about.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror you fix your eyeliner, checking yourself once again. Your thrifted checkered suit looks radiant on you especially with the neon green see-through top underneath, showing off a black bralette. It’s a male suit, hanging a little baggy on you at places, but you still feel like you’re pulling off the look. Your thick eyeliner makes your eyes appear even bigger than they already are and your hair is in an unruly mop of curls, making your appearance complete.

You’ve received tons of critiques over your outfits, but they are the only thing you are not changing on yourself.

“Don’t wear men’s pants.”

“You’d look better in a dress.”

“Why do you look like a guy?”

“What a shame to hide such a gorgeous body in clothes that weren’t meant for girls.”

Each and every comment is burned into your mind forever and you’ll never stop fighting against the judgment women has to face for not being the conventional beauty all females are expected to be.

There’s a knock on the door and the person behind it barges in without waiting for an answer. The tall, bald guy rushes in, looking a little stressed, but that’s kind of the normal for the owner.

“I’m not sure how to say it, but… you are not performing tonight,” he simply states and your anger sets in faster than ever. You’ve had gigs get cancelled, but not minutes before going on stage. However, he is still not done with his little informative speech. “And your instruments need to be used by another band tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Trey, the drummer jumps to his feet. “No way I’m letting someone else play my drum set!”

“You’ll get half the money if you let it happen,” the owner answers.

“Wait, what band did you find minutes before start?” you ask in complete shock.

“There’s this group celebrating a birthday in the VIP section and some boy band is apparently with them. Birthday girl requested to have the stage for them.”

“And you’re just cancelling on us that easily?” you snap.

“Not that I have a choice. If I don’t do it they are leaving and I’m losing a big amount from the night. Sorry guys, but this is strictly business.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you laugh bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. This would have been a great chance for all of you, you’ve been trying to get a gig here for months, knowing that a lot of people from the industry fancies it, you might have caught someone’s eyes, but it’s definitely not happening now.

“Are you letting them use your stuff or not?” he urges, hands on his hips as he looks at the four of you impatiently.

“But what about our gig? We’ve been on the waiting list for months, when can we actually perform?”

“Uh, I don’t know. We’re pretty booked, maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Summer?” you gasp in disbelief. “It’s fucking February!”

“Are you lending them your stuff or not? I don’t have the time for your little tantrum!”

“Yeah, if we get the money they can use it,” Connor, the bass guitarist answers before you explode right then and there. The owner walks out with that, leaving the four of you behind, forgotten and humiliated.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Trey groans, plopping down on the couch, covering his eyes with his tattooed arm.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you scoff under your breath, reaching for your bag to grab your pack of cigarettes you keep in it especially for cases like this, whenever you are about to go around and punch every living thing in the face in your reach.

Kicking the backdoor open you lean against the cold brick wall as you light the cigarette and start puffing vigorously, trying to get as much nicotine into your system as possible. You notice a group of guys standing near you in the alleyway, laughing on something, having a great time, oblivious to how hurt and angry you are feeling just a few feet away. You hear frictions of their conversation and it’s clear they are British judging from the accents that are hitting your ears. You finish your cigarette pretty fast and immediately reach for another one even though you know you shouldn’t have even smoked that first one, but you just can’t help it. It’s either the smoking or you’re going after the owner and kick him in the balls for being a bitch.

“Oi, can I ask for one?”

Glancing to the side you see that one of the guys has approached you, smiling at you warmly he nods towards the pack in your hands. Nodding you hold it out for him and he takes one. Before he could even ask for the lighter, you throw it at him and he catches it easily.

“Thanks,” he nods, holding the cigarette between his lips before lighting it and passing the lighter back to you.

“Lou, you really shouldn’t smoke,” you hear one of the others speak up as the rest of the group slowly joins you and the one you just helped out.

“S’fine, don’t act like me motha’,” he shrugs, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“At least not before we go on stage,” the blonde one shakes his head at his friend and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, so you’re the band that’s gonna play?” you ask with a forced smile, already feeling your blood boiling. Who the fuck they are and why do they deserve to steal your gig?!

“We’re just playing a couple of songs,” another speaks up shrugging his shoulders. “No big deal.”

“Glad it’s no big deal to you, because it would have been to the band that was robbed from tonight because of you,” you spat at them, clearly surprising them with your harsh reply.

“I assume you are part of that band, right?” the on with the curly hair speaks up, his green eyes burning down at you.

“Nice job, Sherlock,” you groan, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“You could play with us,” he offers, the others nodding in agreement.

“I don’t need your pity,” you scowl at them. “Bringing me on stage to try to make yourselves look like the good guys is not necessary. I’m just fed up with people like you.” The truth is coming out of you easier than ever. All the years on injustice is seemingly erupting from you, pouring down on these five.

“People like us?” the dark haired one asks with a confused look.

“Yeah,” you nod with a bitter chuckle. “Five conventionally hot guys grouped together for a band, making every girl between the age of ten and thirty scream just by a wink. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m betting my head that you’ve had it easier than others.”

“It’s not nice to assume things when you don’t know anything about us,” Curly speaks up, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I’ve seen enough not to care about what’s nice and what’s not,” you chuckle shaking your head as you take another long puff from your cigarette and throw the butt to the ground, stepping on it. “Who are you even? Some Back Street Boys 2.0?” you ask, folding your arms on your chest, earning a heartfelt laugh from the blondie.

“I kinda like her,” he smirks around his friends. “We’re called One Direction, you haven’t heard of us?”

“Not even once,” you shake your head.

“That’s kinda humbling,” the one with the cigarette smiles. “We’re from the UK. I’m Louis, that’s Liam, Niall, Zayn and Harry.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you guys didn’t just take my gig and lessen me with half my paycheck,” you smile at them sweetly before rolling your eyes.

“Wait, what? They’re not paying you because of us?” Liam asks.

“We only get half the money for lending you our instruments.”

“Let us pay the other half then,” Harry offers right away, but you just laugh at him.

“It’s not about the money, Prince Harry,” you smirk at him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s about justice. How is that air that you just waltz in here and take our time and chance? What if there’s a producer out there who would have liked our music and offered a record deal? What if someone would have taken a video of us performing, put it up to YouTube and it would have gone viral? I assume you never had to go through this phase where you have to beg for every minute on stage so you can at least earn enough money to pay rent. You don’t seem like the type of band who had to perform in smelly bars four times a week for a ridiculous amount of money.”

They stay silent and you know you were right.

“I’m not saying you had it easy, but I’m sure you have no idea what it could have been. And I’m fed up with men walking over others just to have what they want.”

“Look, it wasn’t our intention to ruin your gig. Have your set with your band and then we’ll play a few songs too after that,” Liam offers, but you shake your head.

“No, we weren’t supposed to be just your opening act and it’ll turn into that. So have a nice evening, enjoy your showtime, I’m out.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall you walk back into the building and grabbing your stuff from the dressing room you move out to the bar area, desperately needing a drink.

Sitting on the last stool at the bar you ask for straight tequila and two vodka shots knowing it’ll do the job for the evening and pulling your phone out of your bag, you open up Google. Searching the name One Direction you’re met with quite a few hits and you start scrolling through them, reading about the five boys you just had an encounter with. Just as you thought, they didn’t start off as a traditional band, having put together at a talent show just three years ago, getting such a major push so early in their career, they have no idea how struggling it is to make it in the industry. They surely had their fair share of ups and downs, but they will never know what it’s like to sweat blood and tears for your dream when everyone just wants to drag you down and tell you you’ll never make it.

The shots and half of the tequila is gone, your band joined you to at least get wasted as you watch the technicians set the stage for a band that’s not you, but gonna play with your stuff. Sitting on the stool you’re having a fairly good time thanks to the alcohol when you spot Harry making his way towards you in the crowd.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready backstage?” you ask with an eyeroll as he joins your little circle, the guys eyeing him curiously. Ignoring your comment he pulls out a piece of paper handing it to you. As you unfold it you almost want to throw it back at him.

“This is to make up for what you lost tonight,” he says nodding down at the check in your hands.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” you firmly answer, but Trey grabs the check from your hands.

“But I do!” he snorts. He is such a pig.

“Let us do at least this one thing for you. We really do feel bad for taking your time and the offer to come on stage with us still stands.”

“No thank you,” you shoot him a fake smile before downing the rest of your tequila, the drink burning down your throat. Looking back at Harry you keep your eye locked on him as he watches you intently. He is a good-looking guy, you have to give that to him, but the circumstances you’ve met under just made it impossible for you not to hate him for the privileges he is being handed every day while you fight your way through life.

Harry sighs in defeat nodding as he licks his lips. For a split second, guilt takes over you for the way you’ve been acting towards him and the other boys, but then you remember that you don’t even know him. For all you know, he can be a royal asshole with the face of an angel. You can’t let guilt chew you and spit you out, you have to keep your guards up.

“Alright. We really are sorry. I’ll… see you around,” he nods before turning around to walk away.

You watch them perform their biggest hits, the whole place going crazy over the impromptu One Direction concert they just got for basically free. The VIP area is going crazy over the boys and with each sang song, you feel yourself getting more and more hopeless about your future as a musician. Here you are on a Saturday night, robbed from a job you’ve worked hard for, watching five British boys take your place on the stage that’s supposed to be yours tonight. You catch Harry’s eyes quite often while he is on stage, he keeps glancing in your way, a hint of guilt glistening in his green irises as he sings their songs with perfect vocals. You can tell he feels bad for the situation and you didn’t make it any easier on him or any of the boys, but you’re not really one to beat around the bush. They deserved to know what others in the industry below them have to deal with every day. It’s not always as glamorous as people might think and you’re the living example of that.

You don’t stick around for long after the boys are done on stage, you help your bandmates pack their stuff and head home before Harry or any other members of One Direction can find you.

Walking past the news stand that’s on the corner of your street, you stop upon seeing your own face smiling back at you from the cover of People Magazine, the title catching your attention.

“Grammy nominee Y/N Y/L/N shares her secret to her one of a kind fashion style.”

Grabbing the magazine off the stand you pay for it and continue your way home, holding the copy to your chest with a warm feeling in your heart.

It’s been only a week since the nominations have come out, but it still feels like a dream. You didn’t just get nominated in the category of Best New Artist, but your album Hands of Power got nominated as Best Album and your biggest hit of last year, Sleepless is running for the title of Best song. Three nominations the first time earning a spot on the list. Not bad.

Just as you walk into your place, your phone buzzes, the ever so smiling face of your manager staring back at you from the screen.

“Hey!” you sing into the phone, holding it to your ear with your shoulder, taking off your boots as you walk further down the hallway.

“Are you home already?”

“Yes, just arrived.”

“Great, I’ll be there in ten,” she announces and ends the call. Chuckling you just shake your head, dropping the phone to the coffee table before you move to the bedroom and change into something more comfortable. The flared jeans looked fire on you today, but you rather wear something looser when you’re at home.

You barely have the time to start the water for a tea when Taylor storms through your door using her keys you’ve given her some time ago. She is wearing all white that looks fantastic with her almond skin tone, a knitted sweater tucked into a maxi skirt, paired with strappy heels, she is always so elegant and perfectly dressed for whatever occasion.

“I have knee-shaking news, girl!” she announces as she throws her purse to the couch before joining you in the kitchen.

“I’m going to be the next Bond girl?” you joke smiling to yourself as you get two mugs from the cupboard.

“Better than that!” she cheers. “You are going to perform at the Grammy’s, baby!” she screams throwing her hands into the air as your jaw drops to the floor.

“You’re not just kidding with me, right?!”

“I would never play such a dirty joke with you. It’s one hundred percent true, I had an hour long phone call with some bloke today and they want you.”

“Yes!” you scream in excitement, jumping up and down like a child that just got a pack of candy. “I’ll make the Grammy’s my bitch!” you cheer, making Taylor laugh.

“Alright, Miss Dominatrix. We still have a lot of things to discuss and there’s one more thing about the performance.”

“Oh God, is this the part where you say something that ruins it completely?” you sigh in defeat as you take the kettle and pour the water into the mugs, dropping a filter into each.

“I don’t think it ruins it,” she shakes her head, but you have a feeling you won’t like what she has to say. “They want it to be like a… joined performance. You’d start off with Sleepless, then it would kind of mesh into your partner’s song and they would end it with one of their own songs.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad,” you nod.

“See?” she smiles warmly.

“Do we know who I’m going to perform with?”

“Harry Styles.”

You almost drop both mugs the moment the name is mentioned, but you manage to get them to the kitchen island and slip them to the counter, Taylor giving you a questioning look at your wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s… gonna work,” you clear your throat.

“You’re not sure your duet with the biggest male artist can work? Why is that?”

Licking your lips you try to find the right words to say it, but you’re not even sure why you got so shocked over it. Probably because the last time you saw him, you were still nobody, playing gigs at no name bars and he took your spot on the stage with One Direction. It’s weird, but since you’ve finally made it in the industry, you haven’t crossed paths with him and this would be the first time you meet after seven years.

“I’m not sure if he remembers it, but we’ve met before.”

“You and Harry?”

“Yes. I was playing with The Gambits years ago, it was before I started putting out covers on my own. We were supposed to play at this bar but they cancelled on us, because One Direction was there that night and someone wanted them to play instead of us, so we lost the gig. I had a pretty… harsh conversation with him and the band, basically telling them that their pretty man privilege is what ruins the careers of talented women.” “Oh Jesus, Y/N. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Taylor sighs leaning on her elbows on the countertop.

“Not that it’s something that would just come up in a conversation,” you shrug. “And as I said, he might not even remember it. It was a long time ago.”

“I know you are all about your rebellious past, good for you, but sometimes you’re making my job really fucking hard,” she sighs, grabbing her phone, already typing a message to God knows who. “Starting beef with Harry Styles before you even made a name for yourself? Who does that?”

“It’s not beef!” you protest. “I just gave them my piece of mind.”

“We’ll see what he thinks about it. I have to make a few calls,” she announces before walking out, already on the phone with someone.

Sitting on a stool, staring into your mug you think back at the time you met him. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were fighting to stay afloat, trying to make through the days, barely hanging on a thread. You didn’t know that five years later you’d sign your first record deal as a solo artist and seven years from that night, you’d be a Grammy nominee. It was a long and challenging time for sure with way more downs than ups until you finally got on track and you’ll never forget where you came from. Not when even as an acknowledged artist, you still face judgment and hatred no matter what you do. Being a solo female singer sometimes feels like harder than being president of the country and there are just so many things that need to change in the world of music, you will never stop fighting for girls that are in the same shoe you once were.

Through the years you’ve followed the career of the boys, especially Harry’s. You read about Zayn’s parting, their so-called hiatus and how they all went solo soon after. Genre-wise Harry’s work is what stands the closest to you, and you’ve witnessed all the backlash he has faced during his time in the spotlight. The shaming for whatever women he chose to date, his choice to get into acting and the way he has been dressing. People just don’t seem to understand they can’t have control over any of these and they’ve tried to bring him down one too many times, but he has been thriving lately, anyone can see that.

Your mug empties out by the time Taylor returns, taking her previous stop at the kitchen island.

“Alright, I set up a meeting with Harry and his manager for tomorrow. They still haven’t decided on the performance and apparently, Harry would like to meet you before giving his answer.”

“Oh God, he remembers me,” you growl under your breath.

“Or maybe he doesn’t and just wants to meet the person he is supposed to perform with. We can never know. We’re meeting them at his manager’s office at eleven tomorrow.”

One night is enough to make you go crazy over such a small thing as meeting someone. It’s not like you are nervous to see him because of who he is, it’s more about knowing what he thinks about you after all these years, in case he remembers you. He saw you as a struggling artist at rock bottom and though your encounter didn’t last long and he didn’t know you on a deeper, personal level, you still fear that he remembers and thinks that you’ve lost yourself over the years.

Authenticity has been a huge issue in your life. Early in your career, everyone wanted to change you. The way you dress, your hair, the style of music you write, nothing was good enough as it was, they wanted you to become someone else, someone who was not you. You fought all attempts until the right person came through and accepted you as yourself, but a tiny voice in the back of your mind kept telling you that they succeeded, that somewhere along the fight you did lose yourself and became what you always feared to be.

Meeting Harry is like meeting a piece of your past and having to face what you’ve become. It’s going to be like a mirror right in front of you and what you’ll see might not be what you expect.

Wearing your bright red dungaree with an oversized vintage shirt and a pair of white sneakers, you definitely don’t look like you’re dressed for a business meeting, but when did you ever? Pushing your hair back with a pair of cat eye shades, you leave a little earlier, knowing well traffic is horrible in these hours. You arrive to the office building just minutes before eleven, Taylor has already texted that she has arrived and which office you should come to. When you finally find the door you’ve been looking for, you take a moment to yourself before knocking.

“Come in!” a male voice calls out and you walk in. Taylor is sitting on the sofa that’s pushed against the wall on the left, a man is sitting behind the enormous desk and then there is Harry, standing by the window, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black slacks, and old Rolling Stones t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame as his eyes meet yours upon your arrival.

“Hey, I would say I’m sorry for being late, but I’m actually exactly on time,” you smirk, closing the door behind you. The man stands from the desk and walking around he meets at the front, holding a hand out for you.

“Perfectly on time,” he smiles warmly. “I’m Jeffrey Azoff, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”

“And this here is Harry,” he motions towards the man who has stepped closer and as you look back at him, you’re met with a blank expression for a moment so you can’t figure out if he remembers you or not. But then, a tiny smile tugs on his lips as he holds his hand out for you.

“We’ve met before, right?” he simply questions, and your eyes flicker over to Taylor in a kind of “See? I told you!” manner before you look back at Harry and shake his hand.

“Yeah, we have,” you nod. “A long time ago.”

“Congrats for your nominations,” he smirks, his hand letting go of yours and your let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, thank you. Back at you.”

“Alright, why don’t we start this discussion? We have a lot to go over,” Jeff suggests and you sit beside Taylor while Harry stays near the window, as if he is trying to soak up the sunshine coming through it that’s painting his skin a golden shade.

The concept is simple. The performance would be a mashup from Sleepless and Harry’s song Golden with an exciting and fresh way of mixing the two songs together in the middle, making your song flow into his in a smooth and effortless way. The songs sound compatible and you already have an idea how to mash them together for the transition, but you can’t help but feel doubts over the performance.

“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.

“Not to come off too harsh, but why is my song the first one?” you ask, earning a few puzzled looks. “If Harry finishes it off, he is going to be the one people will remember more and he’ll get the applause as well. The riffs in the songs allow them to be switched, how come it’s not me who comes second?”

You can see the shock on Jeffrey’s face at how straight-forward you were about your concern and that you even dared to speak up about the issue. He clearly hasn’t had to face anything similar before and when he glances at Harry you follow his gaze as well, but instead of shock, what you see on his face is amusement. He is smirking, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares back at you.

“She has a point,” he nods and you take a deep breath. For a moment, you really thought this is going to be the part where you are thrown off and Harry makes the performance only his.

“I, uhh—this is what’s been requested,” Jeff answers and you tilt your head.

“Okay, can we make a request to change it?” you simply ask, eyeing Taylor next to you who is typing on her iPad vigorously, taking notes of everything that’s said. She is already used to what you’re like, she is not even surprised you came up with the prompt to change.

“Hold on, so just because you want to be second, you get to be?” Harry questions, but he doesn’t come off as harsh, it seems like he is entertained by the conversation. “Does this mean I don’t deserve to be the second one?”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” you answer, taken aback from his accusation and you hate to admit, but he is right. You addressed the issue, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spot either.

“Alright, so then we need to seek a solution that benefits the both of us,” he offers, walking closer from the sunlight and you follow his every movement.

“We could do some kind of medley? Do an ultimate mashup from more songs and have more smaller parts split between us, finishing it together,” you suggest and he nods.

“That could work, but I have something else on my mind.”

“And what would that be?” Jeff asks, a little lost about the situation as he watches the two of you exchange ideas.

“We could write a song together, a duet, and perform that instead of our solo stuff.”

“What?” you snap right away. “You want to write a whole new song just for the Grammy’s?”

“Why not?” he smiles carefreely. “We have almost two entire months to do it, albums have been written in shorter periods, I’m sure we can handle just one song. And I think a collaboration would be a hit for the both of us now.”

You look at Taylor who just stares back at you, ignoring the panic in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she tells you. “I can see the collaboration working, it could be a huge hit.”

“And what, we’re gonna release it as a single after the show? Whose song is it going to be? I don’t have an album coming up until next year, do you get to have it on your third one then?”

“We can put it out as just a single. No one has to have it on any albums,” Harry replies. “If we released it after the show, it would be just the right timing. Neither of us had any new songs out in a while.” Clenching your jaw you’re trying to find a way out of this collaboration, though you’re not even sure yourself why. Taylor sees right through you, knowing well you’re planning your escape, but she has other plans apparently.

“Y/N, let’s have a few words outside,” she pushes herself up and pulls you with her. Once the door is shut behind the two of you she starts right away. “What the fuck is your problem? The song is a huge thing, it would be an instant hit with him on it!”

“Why do I need a song with him to stay relevant?” you question, folding your arms on your chest.

“No one said it’s about that. But we both know it would be a great push to your name that Jordan has stomped over not so long ago, calling you a Feminist Nazi.”

“Don’t even fucking mention him!” you whisper yell, refusing to even think about that trashbag of a man that ruined your life with his fake accusations.

“Look, I know what you are thinking, that you’ll be seen as just an object next to him, a pair of boobs and nice legs, but that’s not his brand. He doesn’t need you to be sexy next to him, he is known for his honest and real works that go farther than just twerking and being a hoe. We both know he produces meaningful music, so why are you so against it?”

“I just… I-I’m scared to work with him,” you finally admit and it’s the first thing today that surprises Taylor.

“Scared? Thought you’re not scared of anything,” she huffs.

“I never said that,” you give her a look. “Harry met me when I was nobody, it was just me and my big mouth, trying to find my breakout. What if we start working together and he sees that I completely lost that version of myself? I would feel like a liar, an impostor.”

“You are overreacting,” Taylor sighs. “You’ve changed on your way here, but I doubt you are that far from the girl he met before. I know we didn’t meet just a few years after, but I can assure you, you’re still that big-mouthed pain in the ass who fights every norm in the industry like no one else.”

You know she is right, she is always right. Taylor knows you too well, that’s why you love working with her, but sometimes, her honesty throws you way off, especially when she is stating the truth.

The two of you rejoin the two men in the office and they both look at you with anticipation as you fold your arms on your chest and move your gaze over to Harry.

“I would… love to work on a song with you.”

When you agreed to work with Harry you didn’t think you’d find yourself heading over to his house a few days later to have a writing session, but he offered right away that day in the office and Taylor accepted it before you could protest. You’ve had a day filled with meetings and fittings and now you’re rolling up his driveway after punching the security code in that he shared with you over text.

You’ve exchanged numbers on the spot and just like that, you’ve become one of the few people on this world that could contact Harry Styles anytime they want to.

You chose to be casual for the occasion, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie, you like to be comfortable whenever you’re working on new music and Harry’s presence won’t change your ways about that. You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest you’re still afraid of being alone with Harry and do such an emotional thing together as writing a song.

The front door opens just as you get out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Harry walks out wearing a pair of shorts and a green hoodie, looking like he hasn’t left the house all day.

“Hey, you found the address easily?” he asks smiling as you walk up to him.

“Yeah, everything went fine.”

“Do you want something to drink or eat maybe?” he offers as the two of you walk inside. If you’re being honest, you’re starving, the last time you had anything to eat was between two meetings around ten, but nothing since then, just a granola bar. But you’re a first time guest, you can’t just eat up his fridge, like you’re old pals, right?

However, Harry can see right through you.

“You haven’t had anything in a long time, right?” he softly asks and you purse your lips, feeling awkward already and you haven’t been here for more than two minutes. “I can make you a sandwich, if you’d like.” “Harry, no need, I—“ “No need, but I want to. Come on,” he nods at you, making you follow him into the kitchen. “So, who would have thought we would be here now, huh?” he smirks at you as he gathers the ingredients and starts working on your food while you sit on one of the stools at his kitchen island.

“Not me,” you admit chuckling. “I kind of didn’t think I would see you again, I mean, personally. I was seeing you a lot on TV after that.”

“Now might be a good time to confess that, that night wasn’t the last time I saw you.”

“What?”

“I went to one of your gigs a few weeks later. Stayed at the back, I just really wanted to see you play.”

“And what did you think?” you ask tilting your head to the side. Harry smirks, his eyes meeting yours before they return to the food under his hands.

“You absolutely smashed it. And I felt even worse for taking your time away that night. The people were robbed from a mind-blowing performance and had to see five annoying guys clown on the stage,” he laughs making you chuckle too. “I wasn’t surprised when your name surfaced a few years later. Knew you’d make it at one point.” He joins you at the island and slides the plate in front of you with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” you mumble smiling shyly before you start eating and only after the first bite you feel just how hungry you’ve been. “Now that we are at it, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you guys back then. I feel like I was a bigger asshole than I should have been and the whole situation wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“No need to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You were absolutely right. We had no business being on stage that night and what you said actually made us think about where we came from and appreciate our career more. You were right about having it easy at the beginning. We never had the phase where we had to push our way to the top like other artists, our first days were broadcasted on TV, giving us the biggest push ever.”

It’s good to hear he is not holding grudges against you for whatever went down in the past. You eat in silence while Harry types a response to a message on his phone before turning it with the screen down to pay his full attention to you.

“I actually just messaged Niall that we are working together and he is losing his shit over it,” he chuckles softly.

“You guys still talk?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Not all of us thought,” he adds, pressing his lips together.

“You miss being with the band?”

“It’s… good to rely on someone in certain situations. As a solo artist, you only have yourself and that’s about it. But I think you already know that.”

“I never really liked being in a band,” you admit.

“How come? I think you fit in well with The Gambits.”

You shrug, chewing on your bite slowly. It’s probably not the best time to admit that you prefer working on your own, when you’re about to get into a duet with him.

“I uhh… I always imagined myself being a solo artist and I just couldn’t stay with the guys too long, especially when I got my record deal.”

“Why?” Letting out a long breath you lick your lips looking at him.

“I would have never made it in a band with three guys. It would have always been about which one I’m sleeping with, who am I having an affair with or if I’m lesbian because I’m not hooking up with any of them. This is just how it goes for women.”

Harry stays quiet, taking your words in as you finish the sandwich that was literally lifesaving. You wash the plate even when he tells you to just leave it in the sink, and once that’s done, the two of you move over to his little home studio in the basement of his house.

“So, where do we start?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in one of the armchairs while he grabs an acoustic guitar and sits on the one next to you.

“How do you usually start writing?” he asks scratching his chin before he rests his hands on the body of the guitar.

“Well, most of the times I write when I’m pissed about something,” you huff and Harry smirks at you.

“Nothing pissed you off lately?”

“Not enough to make me write a song,” you point out. “See, this is one of the reasons why I was hesitant to write a song with you. It doesn’t come that easily for me.”

“And what were the other reasons?” You shut your mouth at his question, you weren’t expecting him to pick it up, but apparently, he listens more than you thought.

“It’s… a long story.”

“And we have all the time,” he smiles slyly. “But of course, don’t feel pressured to share. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other more so we can work together easier.”

Harry starts strumming his guitar gently, playing random riffs as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip. Taylor asked you to try and be more open than you usually are and though part of you wants to keep the wall high between you and him, something is telling you to try and reach out to him.

“I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face next to you. In duets between a man and a woman, females are often seen as just an object, a sight for the eyes but not as serious artists. I worked hard to be taken seriously and I was hesitant about collaborating with you even though your music is not necessarily what I should fear.”

Harry looks back at you with an unreadable expression and you feel like he is judging you for standing up for yourself. Your fight for yourself is often mistaken as “being a bitch” or “being too sensitive” and the amount of times you’ve been told to just chill is upsetting.

“Well, good thing then that I won’t write music about twerking,” he then finally speaks up, a smile breaking his blank expression.

“But you do write a lot about sex,” you point out with a smirk.

“That I do, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist at the same time.”

“You’re right,” you nod smiling.

 The writing process turns out to be harder than you thought. You’re not specifically inspired and Harry is the person to just throw things around until he finds something he likes. The two of you put together is kind of chaotic as you try to come up with something useful.

Two hours later you have a raw version of a melody that could serve as a chorus, but nothing else, no full melody, no lyrics. And if you’re being honest, you don’t like that chorus that much either.

“It’ll be fun to just stand on stage for three minutes and do absolutely nothing, because we couldn’t write anything,” you groan, sliding lower in your seat, rubbing your face with your hands.

“It’s literally our first session and we have plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t stress about it.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You don’t know how not to stress?”

“I literally haven’t had a stressfree day since about 2007, so no, I don’t know.”

“You can’t chill even when you smoke?” he asks and you give him a puzzled look. “What, you smoke, don’t you?”

“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”

“No, I’m not talking about cigarettes,” Harry chuckles softly. “You don’t smoke weed?” You shyly shake your head. “Really? I would have sworn you’re the type to relax with a good joint. Want to try it?”

“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Why not?” he shrugs and walks over to the little side table in the corner of the room and reaching into it he simply pulls a little plastic bag out with three joints in them.

“Are you just casually keeping joints around your house?”

“I don’t really smoke them, they make me feel sleepy. But some of my friends like it so I keep a few around,” he explains as he takes one out and puts the rest back. “You want to try?”

“I-I’m not sure… I have to drive back home.”

“You can stay for the night, I have three guest bedrooms,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Again, not trying to pressure you, I’m just offering.”

“Are you gonna smoke?”

“We can share one if you want. I would recommend smoking one by yourself for the first time.”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as you watch him tip-tap the joint a little, rolling it between his fingers before he takes it between his lips and reaches for a lighter. “Wait, shouldn’t we do it somewhere outside? The smoke is gonna get stuck in here.”

Harry stops, thinking about what you said and he nods. Grabbing the guitar he asks you to follow him and the two of you move up and out to the terrace, sinking into his lounge chairs. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you watch Harry light the joint and take the first few puffs. As he exhales the smoke he holds the joint out for you and you take it, hesitantly putting it between your lips as you inhale for the first time. You can’t help but scowl at the taste, the whole act of smoking feeling strange after years of smoking your last cigarette. You keep it down a little before puffing the smoke out and passing the joint back to Harry.

You keep switching until you make it past half of it and you finally start to feel the effect of it. You feel light, like you’re floating in the pool that’s in front of you, you can almost feel the water touching your skin yet you’re still dry.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, blinking at you with hooded eyes.

“I’m feeling… fine,” you chuckle softly as you take the joint from him and drag from it again. “Do you do other drugs?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, not often though. I’m not trying to pick up an addiction,” he smiles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Have you done anything?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Didn’t have the money for it before and then didn’t have time later. But I never really felt the need either.”

“And you said you put down the cigarette as well?”

“Yeah. I knew I had to do that sooner or later, it was starting to change my voice and I couldn’t have that.”

“That’s what we always told Louis, that his voice will turn to shit if he keeps smoking,” Harry chuckles softly, dragging from the joint before he passes it over to you, not much left of it.

“Did he ever stop?”

“I think he put it down when his son was born, but I don’t know if he started again.”

You give the joint back for him to finish it and you watch him put it out in the ashtray before he sinks down in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a bit, breathing steadily. You find it amusing how you can still see the guy that handed you a check years ago at that bar, trying to make things right, but he also looks like a completely different person at the same time. He is more mature and open in his mindset and just the way he approaches things in general. The Harry you met seven years ago was still searching his way, but the version lying next to you now is a lot more confident in who he really is.

“Want to take a picture?” he hums keeping his eyes closed.

“What?”

His eyes peel open and turn to face you, a smug smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been staring at me. Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

“You are way too full of yourself,” you scoff and pushing yourself up from the lounge chair you walk over to the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the way the light is dancing on the surface.

You never really thought about what weed would feel like in your system, but it feels oddly tranquil and relaxing. In a way your body feels a little strange, like it’s not even yours, but you also sense everything very… loudly.

“You alright?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind, the tapping on his feet signaling that he is walking closer to you.

“Yeah,” you nod without taking your eyes off of the water.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What?” you breathe out turning to face him.

“Do you want to go in?” he rephrases his question with a small smile.

“I don’t… have a bathing suit,” you answer and the moment the words leave your mouth they feel so ridiculous even when you were just stating the truth.

“Okay, but you are wearing underwear, aren’t you?” he smirks. “Or I’m completely fine if you want to go in naked,” he adds smugly.

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “Can you… maybe give me a pair of shorts? I’m fine without a bra when I come out but I would rather have my underwear on dry.”

“Sure,” he hums and turning around he jogs back into the house while you stay right there, staring at the water again.

With each passing moment you get calmer, the outside world and everything in life that’s not happening right in this moment eases into nothingness, your mind numbs in the best way possible.

When Harry returns he is wearing a pair of yellow swimming shorts, two towels are thrown over his shoulders and he has a pair of white shorts in his hands.

“This is the smallest thing I have, I think it’ll be fine,” he comments handing you the shorts.

“Thanks,” you nod before he shows you the way to the closest bathroom where you change out of your clothes leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the counter, you put on the shorts that are a little big on you, but once you’ve tied the strings it seems to be staying up steadily. Your simple black bra is not showing more than what a bikini top would, so you feel fine walking out in your attire.

Harry is sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs moving around in the water. His head lifts hearing your steps and he smiles at you, standing up when you arrive.

“Fits fine,” he nods, taking a look at the shorts.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

Walking over to the steps you dip your feet in first, testing the temperature before you start going in further, Harry following you right behind. Just as you expected, the water feels smooth against your skin, warmly caressing and swallowing your body as you get in, the surface reaching your chest. You let your arms move around, feel how the water runs through your fingers, it’s amusing and you enjoy it probably more than you should. It’s just water, but right now it feels like a pile of clouds.

“I know I suggested to smoke and then swim, but please don’t drown into my pool, I won’t be able to talk myself out of that,” he chuckles, easing him into the water until it reaches his neck.

“My life is in your hands, Harry,” you smirk at him before you follow him and let the water swallow your whole body up to your neck.  “This feels so nice.”

“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.

“Mm, like I’m… floating through space.”

“In a sense, you are floating in the water,” he chuckles. “You don’t feel sick, right?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smile at him shortly.

You move over to the edge of the pool, laying your arms to the side, holding yourself up so your legs could float in the water. You watch Harry dive under and swim across the pool, reaching the far end before he pushes himself over to you.

“When I went to see you perform there was a song I really liked, but I never found it anywhere later.”

“Which one?”

“The chorus went like… Crashing and crumbling, I’m fighting for my breath, Today won’t be the day I’m meeting death…”

You suck on your breath, surprised how well he remembered the lines even after so many years. He recalled them perfectly, even singing the melody a little with them.

“I never recorded it in studio,” you admit quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because it felt too emotional and I didn’t want it to be just out there.”

“What was the name of the song?”

“It’s called Till I Die. I wrote it when…” You take a deep breath, feeling heavy just by talking about it, but something is urging you to share it with him. “I left from home right after I graduated high school, broke contact with my parents completely and I had a few very rough years, trying to just… keep myself alive, I guess.”

“Can I ask why you left your parents?”

“We had very different visions of what I should become. And I didn’t intend to live the life they imagined for me. My parents are very… traditional, my career in their eyes is just some kind of circus when I’m the clown on the stage. They don’t take any of it seriously and they made it very clear at the beginning that they don’t want me to become a musician. I was supposed to become a surgeon, my dad is one and my mom is in criminal law, they both worked very hard to get to where they are, but they don’t think that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.”

The last person you shared it with was Taylor and though it feels odd to open up about these old wounds again, but having Harry as the one listening to you just feels right.

“You haven’t talked to them since you left?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“And they didn’t even try to contact you?”

“Well, I made sure they couldn't. Changed my number first thing I set my feet outside the house and I never left them any of my addresses. I know it sounds cruel, but I didn’t want to do anything with them after the shaming they put me through when I told them I don’t want to become their perfect little daughter. They told me that I could consider myself disowned from the family if I dare to even write a song.”

“Woah, that sounds really tough.”

“It was,” you nod. “I wasn’t asking them to support me in any other way apart from just being there for me. It’s not like I wanted to spend the money the put aside for my tuition to buy guitars and tour the country, I just wanted them to… accept who I am, but apparently, I asked for too much.”

You feel tears forming in your eyes, but you wipe them quickly. It’s been long since the last time you let the thought of your parents, you’ve been good at keeping these feelings bottled up and in the deepest end of your mind. It’s not like you’re going around and just share your trauma with anyone you meet, but it felt comfortable to share it with Harry.

“I’m sorry about that. Everyone should have a support, especially in our job.”

“I had… myself,” you chuckle bitterly. “Became pretty good at relying only on myself.”

“I’m guessing it’s another reason why you prefer working alone, right?” he smiles at you softly.

“You could say that,” you nod into the water.

“I know it’ll sound cheesy, but… if you ever want to talk, I’m here,” he offers.

“Oh, are we becoming friends?” you ask chuckling.

“We’ve known each other for long enough to be friends, am I right?” he smirks, splashing some water in your way.

“We met a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Everything I know about you is from articles and gossip sites and I think you can only say the same thing,” you point out.

“Okay, then let’s get to know each other.”

“What, do you want to play 21 questions now or something?” you huff.

“Damn right,” he smirks.

And that’s exactly what you do. Swimming around in the pool you ask each other questions, some are funny, some are more serious and you slowly start to get to know each other, seven years after meeting for the first time, but in a way it feels like it’s been just last week when you were talking in the alleyway.

The weed soon dies down in your system, leaving you incredibly tired and it’s only then you realize it’s already past one am. Pulling out of the pool, you both grab a towel drying yourselves up before making your way back into the house.

“The guest bedroom next to mine has a bathroom so I think that’s the best one. I can give you something to sleep in if you’d like,” Harry offers as you follow him down the hallway.

“I think I’m fine in my sweats, but thank you.” He shows you the room, tells you how to change the AC if you feel too cold or hot and then bidding goodbye he is about to go to his own room when you stop him.

“Thank you for… today. I know we didn’t get far with the song, but… I liked hanging out with you,” you admit with a shy smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about the song, it’ll be fine. And I liked it too. We can make it a regular thing, if you want. You can come over, we’d chill and try to cook up something for the song.”

“I, uhh… Yeah, that sounds good,” you nod, he shoots you a smile before turning around and disappearing in his room.

The morning doesn’t turn out at all any awkward, especially because you don’t get to stay around too long. You have a meeting at eleven so you have to leave in time to go home and get changed before that. Harry makes you coffee, which is lifesaving, the two of you sit at the terrace as you drink it and you arrange to meet in two days to try and have another, hopefully more successful session for the song.

You genuinely enjoyed your time with Harry and to think that you didn’t only smoked weed for the first time with him, but also opened up about your parents, you feel a kind of connection forming and you can only hope you’re not gonna regret it later.

You move on with work after leaving from Harry’s that morning, you have some fittings for upcoming photoshoots and an interview scheduled, so there’s not much time for you to sit around. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Harry again at his place for another session and you feel buzzed about it. You meet Taylor for lunch, sitting on the terrace of your usual place she is talking you through everything that’s coming up the next week, just like you always do so then you can put work aside and have a real chat.

“So how did the writing session go?” she asks, digging into her salad that she always asks with extra chicken.

“The writing? Not so well. But we had a good time,” you truthfully admit.

“Good, good! You’re finally making friends!” Taylor grins, satisfied with the news. You just roll your eyes at her, turning back to your food right when you notice that your phone has been blowing up with notifications.

Huffing you grab it from the table with the pure intention of muting it down completely, but then you see that several people have texted you the same link and it bugs your curiosity so you open one of the messages and tap on the link.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan, feeling your rage already pushing up your spine, clouding your vision in red.

“What?” Taylor snaps, reaching for her phone out of reflex.

“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”

“Who? Jordan? That fucker never learns?” Taylor hisses, her thumbs vigorously typing on the screen immediately.

“Someone asked him about me on Twitter and he dared to call me a lying bitch! I can’t fucking believe this man!”

You and Jordan worked together on a project a while ago. You were supposed to write lyrics to a song he was composing and it was meant for an upcoming popular Netflix show, so the anticipation around the song was huge, especially when word got out that Ariana Grande might end up singing it. During your time working together he very blatantly tried to hit on you, which you politely shut down, because one, you didn’t intend to date someone you were working so close with and two, you just simply weren’t into him. However, he couldn’t take rejection the way a mature, almost thirty years old man should. It started off very subtly, but once you’ve had a chat with him to stop posting obnoxious and suggesting things about you on his social media, because it’s making it hard for you to be taken seriously as an artist and that people will just see you as another celeb which you don’t want to be, he just completely lost his shit. He called you different names on Twitter a few times, the worst were Feminist Nazi and a cock teasing slut, and he just somehow never fails to mention that you lied about your intentions with him, when you were clearer than daylight that you didn’t want a thing from him other than work.

When you realized he isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, you took him to court, dragged his ass in front of the judge and won the case, which ended with him having to pay you thirty thousand dollars and he was ordered to clear all his platforms from your name for good. You really thought that taught him a lesson, especially because against your will, the case got some publicity and he ended up making headlines about the fault accusations he made about you, but it seems like he didn’t have enough.

You wouldn’t worry that much about his new tweet, knowing that he is the one lying, but the trials took a toll on you. It was at the beginning of the time when you were making yourself a name and even though you won, his accusations stung for some people and some even thought him to be the victim. You fell out of two brand deals and an important interview in the upcoming months which was a major setback and all for what? Because a man couldn’t accept rejection? The sad part is that if it would have happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have had to suffer any effect of it, people don’t tend to question a man’s words when he is showing this charming and nice persona to the public. If you accused him the same way you would have been dragged and titled as a sour crybaby and Jordan’s life would have carried on the same way.

The peaceful lunch soon falls through as Taylor turns on her beast mode to at least get the tweet down as soon as possible, already contacting the legal team you worked with before. It has to be against what you agreed on at the end of the trials, he can’t just go around and drag you again without any consequences.

In just about twenty minutes, the tweets disappear from Jordan’s feed, but you know it was already late the moment he posted it. If something gets out on the internet it never goes away, there are probably hundreds if not thousands of screenshots floating around that will preserve his words forever.

You part ways Taylor as he heads to an immediate meeting with the lawyers you worked together previously, she tells you to try not to worry about it, but you can’t just turn it off in you, that’s not how it works.

Making your way home you keep riling yourself up about it, thinking about what it’s gonna cause you this time, what opportunity is going to be taken because a man has called you a lying bitch, even after winning the previous trial against him that proves how big of an asshole he really is.

Changing into a casual attire you head to Harry’s place a little earlier, hoping it’s not a problem you get there an hour before you were supposed to. Arriving you’re a little taken aback seeing that there is another car parking on the driveway that’s not his and you immediately regret coming here, but before you could leave, the front door opens and Harry walks out. You couldn’t have left without noticing, the security system must have signaled your arrival when you punched the opening code in.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks instead of questioning your early arrival.

“I uhh—I’m sorry for being early, I could go—“

“Don’t be silly, come on in!” he waves at you and you walk up the stairs. “Two friends are here but they were just about to leave soon,” he explains as you walk in.

“Sorry for crashing the party,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“The more the merrier,” he smiles. “You seem a little stressed, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just… It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” you hear a woman’s voice from behind and turning around you see a smiley brunette walking towards you, a shy looking guy following behind her.

“Sarah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sarah, my drummer, and that wanker over there is Mitch, my guitarist.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with both of them you realize they look familiar from pictures you’ve seen from Harry’s tour.

“I saw that ugly tweet today, that guy needs to be kicked in the balls,” Sarah sighs with a sympathetic smile, Harry’s ears perking up.

“What tweet?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Sarah.

“Oh, just… Jordan Wells thinks it’s fine to drag people with absolutely no truth behind his words,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile.

“Jordan Wells? The name rings a bell,” Harry hums.

“He is a music producer,” Mitch chimes in.

“I think he was supposed to write for 1D one time, but the deal fell through. Guess we didn’t miss out on anything,” he jokes and it brings a genuine smile to your face.

“You surely didn’t,” you comment under your breath.

You chat with Sarah and Mitch for a bit before they decide to head out, but Sarah asks you to come around sometime they are hanging out and you gladly say yes, wanting to know her and Mitch better, they seem like great company and even greater musicians, it’s always good to meet people who are like you.

As Harry walks his friends out you make yourself comfortable on the couch, reading Taylor’s texts about the update on the recent actions, she has gotten in contact with Jordan’s team and legal steps will be taken if Jordan doesn’t show any sign of improvement in the very near future.

“Hey, want something to drink? Wine or beer maybe?” Harry walks in as you look up from your phone.

“Wine sounds fucking fantastic,” you breathe out earning a soft chuckle from him. You follow him into the kitchen and watch him get a bottle of white wine with two glasses. “I hope Sarah and Mitch didn’t leave early because of me.”

“Oh, not at all. They knew you’d be coming over and would have left around this time, so don’t worry about it.”

He joins you at the kitchen island with the two glasses handing you one and you take a sip from it with a satisfied hum.

“So, want to talk about this Jordan ordeal?”

“There’s not much to talk, really,” you shrug. “He is a jerk and I just can’t seem to get rid of him and I didn’t even date the guy…”

“What did he do this time?”

“Oh, he just casually called me a lying bitch on Twitter, so that’s fun,” you let out a fake laugh, raising your glass before taking a big swig from it.

“Not that creative, if you’re asking me,” he jokes making you laugh. “It’s a very plain choice of words.”

“Yeah, not as good as his best which was calling me a feminist nazi.”

Harry almost chokes on his wine as you say the words, coughing a little while you watch him with an entertained smirk.

“That’s… an interesting way to express his opinion about you,” he answers diplomatically.

“Right? I was thinking about getting a sign of it, like a Live, Love, Laugh one, in the middle of my living room.”

“Would be a wonderful touch of décor,” he smirks. “Alright, I have a proposal for today’s session.”

“Shoot it.”

“You seemed to enjoy your weed experience the last time, I thought we could give it a try again, but we would try to write this time as well.”

“You want to write while smoking?” you ask raising your eyebrows at him.

“Only if you want to. I just thought it would relax you a bit, might even come up with some interesting ideas for the song.”

“Are you trying to turn me into an addict?” you narrow your eyes at him and he just holds his hands up innocently.

“Told you, no pressure,” he smirks angelically.

“I feel like I’m not even coming here to work but to meet with my new dealer,” you chuckle making him laugh. “Okay, we can… give it a try.”

 An hour and one joint per person later the two of you are lounging in his living room, he is sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar on his arms while you are curled upon the sectional, fumbling with the strings of your hoodie.

“We should just… fucking steal a song,” you snort, finding your comment hilarious.

“Which one were you thinking about?” Harry smirks your way, his fingers gently strumming some random melody on the instrument.

“I really want to have a Madonna song to be mine,” you sigh dreamily.

“You’re a fan?”

“Oh, I grew up on her. I have an elaborate choreography for Hung Up,” you snort.

“You need to perform it for me.”

“No fucking way,” you laugh shaking your head. “Not even weed can make me dance for you.”

“Come on, I need to see that choreography, you can’t just hint it and then never show it to me!”

“Nah, not happening,” you laugh, sliding lower down in your seat, your head resting against the armrest of the couch.

You listen to him play the same melody over and over again with your eyes closed and though you really like what you are hearing, no words are forming in your mind that could serve as lyrics. Your phone buzzes on the cushion next to you and grabbing it you see a text from Taylor.

Taylor: Lawyers are on the case, we’ll have more tomorrow, don’t stress about it too much. Night! Xx

Sighing you drop the device back next to you, covering your eyes with your arms.

“You alright?” Harry softly asks.

“Nah, I just want to… disappear,” you sigh, tired of this fight you’ve been fighting for way too long.

“Is this about Jordan? He is a fucking ass, most people know it.”

“But not everyone!” you snap throwing your hands up. “And that fraction that still believes that he is saying the truth is enough to ruin my life. I’m fucking fed up with the injustice women have to face because of the patriarchy we are forced to live in!” Pushing yourself up you run a hand through your hair, hugging your knees to your chest. “It’s so fucking upsetting, like everything I do goes straight down the drain because of one little thing and I’m stuck with trying to rebuild my whole future plan.”

From a sudden urge, you move down to the floor, lying down on the fluffy rug that runs under the couches and the glass coffee table. It feels nice, kind of grounding to lie flat on the floor, especially because your senses are all messed up again because of the weed, but in a good kind of way.

“You worry way too much on longterm things. Try to stay in the moment a little more,” Harry tells you, putting the guitar to the side so he can move his feet to the floor, leaning onto his knees. “You can’t control this much what happens in the future, you should only care about today. And today, you’ve done good, you made it through another day, you did what you had to do and that’s it. Stressing about tomorrow or the next week or next year is just way too much to deal with all the time, twenty-four-seven, three-six-five, that’s just no way to live.”

Lying on the floor you stare up at the ceiling seemingly blankly, but your mind starts to swirl over what he just told you. The worlds are running around, mixing and mingling until something starts to form, making you gasp.

“Grab the guitar,” you tell him, sitting up abruptly. He pulls his eyebrows together, but does as you told him to, holding the instrument on his lap as he waits for you to instruct him more. “Play that… that melody you’ve been playing, but a little faster.”

He turns his attention at the guitar, trying the strings out a few times, feeling the melody under his fingers before he starts playing it just how you asked as you slowly start to sing the lines you have just thought about.

“You made it through… another day, you made it through another day… You did it, let’s celebrate…”

The lines fit perfectly with the melody he has come up with and the more you sing, the wider his smile grows as you move along in the forming song.

“Some days you feel you’ll break, but you made it through another day, yeah, you did it, let’s celebrate…”

“Don’t fucking stop!” he chimes in, never stopping the riffs, trying out new things as you go, slowly perfecting it together with the lyrics.

“Twenty-four-seven and three-six-five, you made another day, you made it alive! Made another day made it alive!” You sing loud and clear, completely lost in the melody Harry is playing, the lines just flowing out of you, like a dam has been taken down and now everything washes over you at once.

When the chorus is about to come up however you run out of ideas, your eyes meet Harry’s and he sees that you’re stuck. His eyebrows knit together, tongue runs along his lips before he starts playing the melody of the chorus and takes over the singing as well.

“So today, baby, remember it’s okay! We’re all floating through space, today, baby, remember you’re okay! We’re all floating through space…”

He plays a little with the lines, repeats them, tries a few times before he stops singing, you are now standing up, watching him end the melody, neither of you saying a word as he room grows silent. A sudden urge drives you to go closer and you sit back down to the floor in front of him, your eyes casting over the now silent instrument on his lap. Looking up your eyes meet his and you feel like the air is kicked out of your lungs.

You’ve heard so much about moments when you feel yourself pulling towards someone, when it’s like a magnetic field but you never actually experienced it until now. Staring back at Harry you feel that pull everyone has talked about and you finally understand what they were trying to say. It’s like there’s a string coming from your chest that’s connected to him and he is tugging it without even doing anything.

Reaching forward he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers dancing down the side of your face as you catch his eyes wander down to your lips. Sucking on your breath you feel the moment, you know what he is thinking about because you think about the exact same thing. Kissing him. You are desperate to find out what his lips feel against yours, what he tastes like, what it’s like to have him so close to you.

“You want to kiss me,” you whisper and it’s not a question, more like an observation.

“I do,” he admits with a soft smile, but doesn’t move closer. “Can I?”

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to do in our situation,” you breathe out, though you don’t agree with the statement fully.

“You think too much,” he chuckles softly, leaning closer just a tad bit, but there are still a few inches between the two of you. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“Then we should just do what we want to,” he suggests with a small smirk and he looks ridiculously handsome with his dimples and shining green eyes that are glued to you.

“And then what? We’ll just go on like it never happened or there’s going to be more happening? How are we supposed to—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry closes the distance between you and him and presses his lips against yours, swallowing the rest of your stammering speech. Whatever doubts and hesitation you felt just a moment ago, it all vanishes into nothing as you melt into his kiss, his lips caressing yours gently, softly capturing them, savoring and tasting you with caution, giving you the chance to pull back anytime, but nothing in your body can make you stop kissing him in this moment.

His palms cup your jaw as you push yourself up, slowly making your way to straddle his lap after he has blindly put the guitar to the side, hands coming to rest on his shoulder for leverage. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you close until your chest is pressed up against his, lips never disconnecting in the kiss.

Kissing him feels like second nature, like it’s not even the first but the hundredth time, but on the other hand, every touch and tiny sparkle is so new and unusual, you’ve never felt like this before.

Harry slowly pulls back, pecking your lips a few more times before he stops, nuzzling his nose against you in an adorable and innocent way that brings a smile to your lips.

“Doesn’t it feel good to just do whatever you feel like doing?” he asks with a soft smile, making you laugh.

“Kind of.”

“Nothing has to change. Or something can, it’s up to you.”

“You are so upsettingly cool and respectful,” you blurt out chuckling and it makes him laugh, his head falling back against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I guess?” he smirks with a shrug.

“See? Respectful!” you grin, your hands moving up to cup his face. The pad of your thumbs gently tap against his dimples that are showing thanks to the wide smile on his lips right now. You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him again, even though your rational side is trying to make you stop. You just can’t, his lips are screaming to be kissed and who are you to deny that?

You’ve been running errands all day. Following an early meeting you ran to your favorite vintage store to get another armchair for your living room. Then you went grocery shopping because your fridge has been ridiculously empty the past two days and later you had a quick fitting for a few outfits you are supposed to wear in the near future. You’ve ran into a few fans too, having small chit-chats with them, taking photos, so it’s been a busy day.

It’s been a week since you and Harry have kissed and despite your fears, it hasn’t been awkward at all. He didn’t bring it up, but you don’t feel like he is pretending it never happened, which is kind of a great balance. He is giving you just enough time and space to figure out what it really meant to you, because quite frankly, you have no idea.

Obviously, you find him attractive. You’d have to be completely blind to say that he is not handsome and just simply good to look at. You’re attracted to him and not just to his looks, but to his whole persona.

It’s just you’re not sure it’s a smart idea to start anything with the man you’re working with and though you know Harry is nothing like Jordan, part of you is still scared the whole thing will happen all over again if you get involved with another man from the industry.

Workwise, everything is going well. You’ve successfully finished the song you started that ominous evening and have started recording it in Harry’s home studio, working some more on the melody, bringing a lot more into it than just a single guitar. What more, you’ve been coming up with new ideas for other songs, lyrics popping up in either your or Harry’s head and you just keep sharing them with each other, saving them for later once the song for the Grammy’s is done.

Heading back to your place you get a call from Harry, his smiley face appearing on the screen of your face as you accept the call and his accent fills the car through the speakers that are connected to your phone through Bluetooth.

“Hey, hope I’m not calling in the middle of a meeting,” he greets you and you can tell he is smiling.

“No, I’m just on my way home. What’s up?”

“I’m meeting with Sarah and Mitch for dinner tonight, thought you’d like to join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends, I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with me.”

“But I like spending time with you,” he chuckles softly, a blush making its way to your cheeks at his words.

“Are you sure you want me there? What about Sarah and Mitch? I crashed your last meeting with them as well.”

“You didn’t crash anything, Y/N. And I’m positive I want you there, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And just so you know, Sarah asked if you’d be joining us, so I assume they wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Oh, well, okay then. Send me the time and place.”

“Wonderful!” he beams, his enthusiasm making your chest warm.

By the time you arrive home he has already texted you the details and you have just one hour to spare before you have to head out. You opt for a quick shower and an outfit change, switching up your ripped mom jeans and simple t-shirt to one of your favorite jumpsuits. It’s a little baggy, but the waist is cinched in with an inbuilt corset, giving the whole fit a very interesting twist.

Arriving at the restaurant Harry has texted you the address of, the waiter escorts you to the terrace at the back that’s a lot more secluded and you feel yourself relaxing that you probably won’t get photographed. Harry is the only one who is already at the table, sitting with his eyes fixed on his phone, but he immediately puts it aside when he sees you approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey! You look amazing!” he greets you pulling you into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks, a simple white shirt tucked into it, a knitted cardigan thrown on, a typical Harry outfit. “And thanks for the invite,” you add as you take the seat next to him, assuming Sarah and Mitch would like to sit next to each other.

“Don’t even mention it. We’re friends, it’s really nothing. I’m glad you could make it.”

The way he called you friends is giving you mixed feelings. Part of you is happily jumping up and down at the fact that he considers you as a friend, given how you don’t have many of those. It’s been hard opening up to anyone since you’ve made a name for yourself, you’ve ran into occasions a lot when people wanted more than just your friendship from you and it made you rather closed off when it comes to making friends.

On the other hand, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Is that all you are? Just friends? More importantly, is that all you want to be, or more?

Sarah and Mitch arrive soon after, joining you at the table and the waiter takes the orders before leaving the four of you alone. It seems like they genuinely like it that you’ve joined, so you can enjoy the evening a little more relieved.

Sipping on some amazing wine, you eat and talk and you feel like you’ve known these people your whole life. You especially like Sarah, she is so open-minded and funny and you think they make a great couple with Mitch who is obviously more closed off, but it’s obvious how much he worships his girlfriend.

Sometime in the evening, when you’ve already had two glasses of Chardonnay and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable, you move closer to Harry without even noticing, leaning against him gently and his hand rests on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze under the table, making you want to move even closer to him to feel more of his touch, to get more of him.

Neither Sarah, nor Mitch questions the two of you being a little cozier and you’re thankful for the safe and stressfree environment they are providing, not making you overthink what you do, just letting you enjoy the moment.

At the end of the evening, you can’t shake the thought that you don’t want to say goodbye to Harry just yet. He pays for everyone’s dinner, leaving a generous tip for the waiter and you stay back at the table while Sarah runs out to the restroom and Mitch takes a quick call from his father, leaving you alone with Harry. His hand is still resting on your leg, a little farther up, but still in a very safe zone in the middle of your thigh.

Turning to face him your eyes meet his, his green irises glistening in the soft lighting and he looks so beautiful, you just want to kiss him again.

“Do you have plans after this?” you find yourself asking.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

“That sounds like a nice plan,” he smiles at you warmly and you just know that if you weren’t out in the public, he would have leant in for a kiss and you wouldn’t have stopped him.

When Sarah and Mitch return all four of you head out and they don’t question when you follow Harry to his car. They say goodbye and Sarah makes you promise to join them some other time too and you happily say yes to the invitation.

Not much is being said on the way back to your place, he plays some music quietly as you navigate him through the streets.  

“Welcome to mi casa,” you smile as you key the two of you into your apartment you’ve been living in for the past few years.

It’s nothing luxurious, just a tad bit bigger than what one person would need as a home. You would have been fine living in your previous home you lived in before you’ve gained fame, but you needed a much bigger closet so you were forced to move. It’s a two bedroom apartment with one big bathroom, an open concept kitchen and a spacious living room. And of course, a closet as big as your bedroom. It’s the perfect size and you haven’t even thought about buying a bigger place just because you can, it would be a waste of money and space. The interior is very much vintage with all your mismatched furniture and colorful walls, but you think it’s quite cozy and just the ideal space for you.

“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water.

“Some water would be great, thank you.”

Filling up two glasses you hand him one as you lean against the counter, silently eyeing each other. It should be clear to him that you had intentions with asking him to come over, especially after being your cozy with each other during dinner, but you’re a little lost in what you should or even want to do. You just know you want him close.

He drinks up his water, his eyes meeting your gaze as a small smirk tugs on his cherry lips.

“You want to kiss me,” he states, using the exact same words you used the night when you kissed for the first time.

“I do,” you nod, feeling a little breathless.

“Then do it,” he simply answers, making you smile.

“Cool and respectful, as always,” you grin at him as he moves closer, stopping just a few inches away from you, your feet almost touching. Reaching up his fingers gently caress the side of your face and you feel yourself already melting under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a shiver running down your spine at his words. You close your eyes for a moment, giving yourself the chance to pull out of it, but you realize you don’t want that, not even the tiniest bit. Opening your eyes they meet with his gaze before you move closer, closing the distance between you and him, lips meeting in a warm and chaste kiss.

Though it grows a little hungrier, you can tell he is still holding back a little, giving you the chance to stop whenever you want to, but you don’t intend to. Pushing yourself closer to him, your arms curl around his neck as his hands grip your waist, your tongue meeting his as you deepen the kiss and melt into his embrace.

Pulling back you grab his hand and head to the bedroom, going back to kissing him the moment you reach it. You easily slide his cardigan off his broad shoulders, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants before taking it completely off, throwing it somewhere to the side. You smirk against his lips, hands wandering down his naked chest and you can’t push down a moan as you feel the warmth of his chest muscles under your touch.

When you feel him try to blindly figure out how to get you out of your jumpsuit with not much luck and this clears your head for a moment to realize what is about to happen. Pulling back your gaze meets his and he stares back at you with caution, ready to stop whenever you tell him to, but that’s not what made you pull back.

“Harry, I…” “We don’t have to do anything,” he softly tells you, his fingers dancing down the side of your face until they reach your chin and he pulls you in for a delicate and slow kiss.

“I want to,” you whisper. “It’s just that… I want you to know that I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man before.”

Searching in his eyes you look for any sign of what’s going on in his head wishing you could just simply read his thoughts.

“You’ve never been with a man?” he asks, seemingly not as surprised as you expected him to be. You nod, licking your lips, waiting for any kind of reaction, a part of you expecting to be upset, though you know he has no right to be mad at you for any of it. “Do you want me to be the first man?” he then asks, with a loving and warm smile as his hand on your hip pulls you against him playfully.

“Yes.”

“Then help me get you out of this jumpsuit, because I can’t figure it out for my life,” he chuckles making you laugh too.

You show him where the corset opens and then get you out of it with joined forces, finally leaving you standing in just your underwear. Harry’s gaze runs down your body, a look of hunger and passion shining through his green irises as he pulls you close again, kissing you with a lot more vigor this time.

Soon enough, his slacks slip to the floor and you climb to your bed, Harry following closely, climbing on top of you before rejoining your lips. Your knees open up wide for him, allowing him to sink his hips between your thighs, his crotch meeting your heated center, a moan slipping out your lips when you feel his erection rubbing against you through the material of your underwear. He kisses his way down your jawline and neck, gently sucking on the soft skin, peppering kisses along your collarbones before he reaches your chest. He easily unclasps your bra and slips the straps down your arms before getting rid of the barrier that’s been keeping him away from your naked chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathes out shakily, before his lips wrap around your right nipple, his hand cupping your other breast. You keep whining and whimpering as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple before his mouth moves over to the other breast, giving it just the same amount of attention.

He kisses down your stomach, glancing up at you as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties silently asking for your permission to go further, still so respectfully looking out for you. As an answer, you lift your hips up so he can easily slide the material down your legs and throw it to the side.

“Oh fuck!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your bud, playing with it oh so perfectly, making you shudder. If you didn’t think Harry was perfect, his tongue work is now surely making a statement on that.

With every lick, kiss and suck he pushes you closer to your release that’s nearing in a fast pace like never before. Reaching down you lace your fingers through his chocolate curls, tugging on the lightly, making him moan against your core. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, but you want to cum with him inside you, so you pull him up, lips meeting again as you still taste your own juice on him. It’s heavenly.

Without breaking the kiss you reach down and into his underwear, palming his fully hard cock, earning a satisfied growl when you wrap your hand around him. The feeling is quite unknown, you’ve only once had to face a penis before, it happened back in high school when you were still figuring out what sexuality meant to you. Gave a wobbly and quite short handjob to a guy from the grade above you, never even talked to him again. The experience left a major effect on you, never even got close to being intimate with a man, but being with Harry now is putting everything into a whole new light.

“Do you have a condom?” he mumbles against your lips, clearly just as excited to carry on as you are.

“Yeah,” you nod and let go of him, rolling to the edge of the bed so you can dig into the drawer of your nightstand, successfully finding the little silver packet. Tearing it open you hand it over to Harry and get back to your previous position as you watch him kneeling up, rolling the condom on carefully. Your lips part when your eyes fall on his cock, seeing now how big he really is. Harry catches your eyes and leaning down he kisses you softly.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?” he kindly tells you, but you smile at him coyly.

“You might be the first man I’m with, but your dick won’t be the first thing to be inside me,” you answer with a smug smirk and it brings an amused look to his face.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss as he settles himself back between your legs.

Though you really tried to sound confident the other moment, you still feel a little nervous about it and Harry senses it right away. Holding himself up on one arm he cups your face in his other, kissing you slowly, taking his time with his lips, as if he is trying to make you forget about everything else but his lips.

“Are you still sure about this?” he softly asks, looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes, but there’s none.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you,” you nod and reaching down between your bodies, you take him in your hands again, positioning him to your center.

Harry captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he pushes into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, feeling a little tight around him, but not in an uncomfortable way.

“You alright?” he asks once he is almost fully in.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you breathe out with a small nod. He pecks your lips and slowly pushes all the way in before he starts to move out and then slide in again, picking up a not too fast but still firm pace with his movements.

You gradually get used to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, it’s surely a whole different experience than using a dildo or any kind of toy you are used to. The thought that it belongs to him is bringing you a sense of intimacy you haven’t felt in a long time.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you dig your fingers into his hot skin that’s coated with a thin layer of sweat as he keeps moving, slowly picking up his pace as you both get closer to the endgame.

“Harry, faster, please!” you plead, legs coming to wrap around his waist so he can thrust in deeper, making you go completely nuts from the way your orgasm is already forming in the pit of your tummy.

He obeys without a second thought, slamming into you faster and harder, making you continuously moan his name, the room is filled with moans and panting, the slapping noise of his hips meeting yours.

Harry buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, definitely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. You just grab a handful of his hair, shutting your eyes closed as you feel yourself nearing the end.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, barely hanging on.

Instead of stretching it out and trying to play with you, Harry clearly wants you to combust. Reaching down between your bodies his index and middle fingers find your clit and he starts circling on it, adding that little extra you needed to fall over the edge.

Moaning and whimpering under his massive body, your orgasm washes over you in waves, bringing you such an intense satisfaction you’ve never felt before. He keeps up his thrusting and just a few moments later his movements fall out of his rhythm and mumbling your name over and over again, he gasps as he rides his high while you’re still trying to catch your breath following your own.

With a heaving chest Harry rolls off of you, gets rid of the condom and throws it to the small bin you keep next to your night stand and then lies flat beside you as you both just silently stare up at the ceiling, very much in the best kind of after sex haze.

“How are you feeling?” he then asks, rolling to his side, his hand coming to rest on your bare stomach. Turning your head to the side you crack a smile at him.

“I feel like I’ve just been properly fucked,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh wholeheartedly. Rolling to your side his arm falls to your waist as you scoot closer, your face only a few inches from his. He is so pretty up close, his features never fail to amuse you, hard to believe he is a real human, lying right next to you.

He closes his eyes a little, letting his head sink into the pillow as his fingers delicately dance up and down your side and back. You feel like you owe him to say something, dropping a major detail about yourself in a heated moment.

“I had two girlfriends,” you speak up, his eyes fluttering open to your words. “The first one was when I was eighteen, we dated for almost a year, then I briefly dated a guy, but it was barely just a month. And I had my second girlfriend when I was twenty. We were together for two years.”

“Are you still friends with them?”

“I still talk to the second one. Her name is Mila. We broke up because she moved to Spain for a job for a year and we didn’t want to do long-distance. Then we just… grew apart, but we still talk sometimes. She lives in Atlanta now, she has a girlfriend and she told me that she is planning to propose soon.”

A soft smile tugs on your lips as you talk about her. She was an important person in your life in a time that was truly challenging. Mila supported your dreams, she went to a lot of your concerts and she was the first one you called when you got your record deal even though you weren’t together anymore. She has seen you go from performing in dodgy bars to rocking the stage of arenas.

“Congrats to her,” Harry smiles through tired eyes. Reaching up he tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning closer he envelopes your lips in a soft kiss.

“We really shouldn’t have done this,” you hum, though you can’t wipe the satisfied smile off your lips.

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

“So what? We aren’t allowed to like each other?” he smirks cockily.

“You like me?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear,” he chuckles rubbing his eyes. “But yeah, I do like you, Y/N. A lot.”

“I… like you too,” you admit shyly. Leaning in he kisses you again before pulling you to his chest as he lies on his back.

“Can I stay the night or you want to throw me out?” he hums closing his eyes. Chuckling your snuggle to him, making yourself comfortable, enjoying the warmth of his body after so spending so many nights alone in this bed.

“You can stay, but you have to behave.”

“Oh I will behave my best, don’t worry.” A chuckle rumbles through his chest as you both fall silent and soon enough, drift off to sleep.

You wake up tangled in the sheets, but no one else is lying in bed with you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you look around and though there’s no sign of Harry in the room you spot his clothes on the floor. That’s when you hear the pots and pans clinking somewhere outside and you smile to yourself. You pull a t-shirt on with a pair of clean panties before heading out, finding Harry in your kitchen, wearing your pink fluffy robe and nothing else as he is making what seems to be pancakes.

“I don’t remember hiring a chef,” you joke walking closer, sliding a hand down his back as you lean against the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I really wanted for you to wake up but I was afraid my growling stomach might wake you up,” he chuckles as he flips the pancakes in the pan with the spatula.

“Found everything you needed?” you ask, walking over the fridge to grab the orange juice.

“Yeah, you have a neatly organized kitchen,” he hums. “Sorry for snooping around though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pouring the juice to two glasses you hand one to him which he thanks softly before placing the golden pancakes to the plate on the counter and pours another bunch into the pan.

Sipping on your juice you watch him move around, making breakfast in your robe and you can’t help but smile at the sight of this fine man in your kitchen. Harry catches you eyeing him and he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, his voice still a little groggy and husky.

“I just… really want to kiss you,” you shrug placing the glass to the counter.

“I think we are over this whole asking for permission thing,” he smirks, stepping closer he leans down and kisses you gently, tasting like orange juice and something sweet, he has probably ate one of the pancakes. His hand that’s not holding the spatula finds your waist, the t-shirt bunches up on your side as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss before you hear sizzling coming from the stove.

“Whoops, not trying to burn the place down,” he chuckles as he turns to the pan and flips the pancakes. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his jawline before stepping away from him to set the table for breakfast.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks over breakfast.

“I have a meeting with my label on Saturday, but nothing else.”

“I’m having a few friends over Saturday evening, kind of a late Grammy nomination celebration. Want to come over?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good,” you nod smiling.

“I was thinking that maybe you could spend the night and then we can finish recording on Sunday.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

Harry takes a quick shower after breakfast before heading out, promising to call you later and though it still feels a little odd that he says goodbye with a kiss, you very much like this new setup between the two of you.

Friday evening Taylor is over at your place, she loves helping you sort out promo stuff you get sent all the time, especially because you let her take whatever you don’t want, half her closet was meant to be worn by you.

Sitting on the floor with boxes surrounding the both of you, you’re digging through them with a bottle of wine, some 90’s music playing in the background, it’s a nice and relaxing evening.

Your phone lights up with a text on the coffee table and you already know it’s from Harry. You haven’t stopped texting since he left from your place just a few days ago.

Harry: Do you think it’s a look for the Grammy’s?

He attached a photo of himself in all denim, looking very much like 2001 Justin Timberlake at the AMA.

Y/N: Should I match and pull a Britney?

Harry: Is that even a question?!

“Okay, who’s the girl?” Taylor asks, making you tear your eyes away from the phone’s screen.

“Huh?”

“Last time I saw you smiling like this at your phone you were talking to that girl you met at that award show. So who is it this time?”

“It’s… not a girl,” you admit, placing your phone back to the coffee table.

“Oh, did a guy finally manage to sweep you off your feet?” Taylor gives you an amused look, genuinely surprised to hear that this time it’s a guy that has you wrapped around his finger. “What is his name?”

“Harry,” you shortly answer and see her eyes widen.

“Wait, is it… Harry as in Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Oh my God, I knew I could feel some sexual tension between you two at Jeff’s office!”

“There wasn’t any, what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see it because you were too busy trying to blow off the duet, but it was radiating from him.” She gives you a look, putting the sweater she’s been examining to the side. “So, how are things? Are you guys an item, or…?”

“We didn’t label anything, he just said he likes me and I like him too. And he… spent the night the other day.”

“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“

“Yes, we had sex,” you confirm blushing.

“That’s like huge! The first man you’ve been with!”

“I know,” you chuckle.

“How was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you truthfully admit with a sigh. “I didn’t think it could be this good with a guy. Maybe it’s just because it was with him.”

“He surely looks like a guy that takes good care of his girl. So what’s gonna happen? Are you guys together?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care about names and labels, he just likes to do whatever he wants and if I’m being honest it’s kind of refreshing. We are just… enjoying whatever we have.”

“That sounds very liberal,” Taylor chuckles. “But I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone for way too long, I think he might do good to you.”

“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.

“How is the song writing going?”

“We’re finishing up recording on Sunday. I’ll send it to you when it’s done and we can start all the paperwork and everything.”

“Amazing, you are doing great, Y/N, I’m proud of you,” she smiles and climbing over she wraps you in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Tay,” you smile at her. “Alright, now do you want these lace socks or should I burn them?” you ask holding up a whole pack of them, making her laugh.

Harry said it’s just a chill get together, nothing fancy so you decide to wear a khaki maxi skirt with a shirt tucked into it that was a gift from a fan, your first album’s name embroidered to the front. It’s one of your favorite pieces and you like wearing things your fans make you, gives the whole fit a plus.

Arriving to Harry’s place you spot that there are a few cars already parking on the driveway. You leave your overnight bag in the trunk, grab the bottle of wine you’ve brought and head inside. Unlike every time you’ve been here, the silence is now switched up with soft music and chatters, quite a few people lingering around the house already.

Just as you walk farther inside, Harry appears on the stairs and his face lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey! Did you just arrive?” He jogs down the rest of the stairs and walking up to you he pulls you close for a quick kiss without hesitation.

“Yeah. I know you said not to bring anything, but I hate coming to parties empty handed,” you chuckle softly, holding the wine bottle up.

“Thanks. Have you eaten? Jeff is grilling outside, but help yourself with anything.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Sarah and Mitch are already here, but come on, let me introduce you to a few people.”

Harry takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. He drops the wine off in the kitchen before joining all the other guests. It’s really not that many people, just about thirty of his close circle. Musicians, people he has worked with and stayed close with, people he has known for long. Everyone seems welcoming and open, many already know who you are and it’s always a good conversation start, so there are not many awkward silences, especially because Harry is always near you, making sure you feel comfortable around his friends and it means a lot to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Harry asks, when he finds you in the kitchen, refilling your glass. He walks up to you, placing a hand to your waist as he kisses into your hair.

“Yeah, your friends are nice,” you smile at him.

“I know, that’s why they are my friends,” he smirks, so full of himself. “Want to hear something interesting?”

“Always.”

“I was talking to Adam and our song came up and then out of nowhere I referred to you as my girlfriend.”

Seemingly he is testing the waters, trying to see how you react to the title, even a little afraid of what you might say, but it doesn’t scare you.

“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”

“Are you okay with it? I wasn’t really thinking about it, just slipped out.”

“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.

“You don’t have to call me your boyfriend, call me whatever you want. It’s just a habit of mine, I guess,” he explains, popping some nuts into his mouth from the little jar on the counter.

“Alright,” you nod. Harry stares back at you for a moment before a smile stretches across his face and leaning down he kisses you shortly before taking your hand and walking back to the living room with you.

The last guests leave around midnight. After bringing your bag up to his bedroom you start cleaning up while Harry walks out the last couple leaving. You start loading the washer and put away things you’ve cleaned before.

“Oh, thank you for cleaning, but you don’t have to. I can take care of it later.”

“It’s nothing, I want to make myself useful,” you chuckle softly as you start the washer. Harry comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses into your neck.

“I have other ideas for that,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the side of your face.

“Yeah? What kind of ideas?” you teasingly ask, closing your eyes when you feel his hand slide under the waist of your skirt, moving down your abdomen until it reaches your core.

“Fun kinds,” he chuckles lowly. His other hand turns your head so his lips could meet yours, you’re still pressed up against him, melting against his chest with your back just right, like you’re two puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when his fingers wander into your underwear and they start doing their magic. “Harry!” you whine, reacting intensely to his actions.

“I fucking love hearing my name from your pretty mouth,” he growls, kissing you hard before his lips part from yours and he starts bunching up your skirt.

You don’t protest, in fact, you lean forward, grabbing onto the edge of the counter as he pulls down your panties and you hear the zipper of his pants. Glancing over your shoulders you see him pull out a condom from his pocket and you can’t push down a laughter.

“Did you keep that in your pocket all evening?”

“Wanted to be ready when I finally got you all for myself,” he smirks, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, rolling on the condom.

His hands come in contact with your hips and ass cheeks, giving them a light squeeze before you feel him lining himself up with you. His palm slides up your back as he pushes into you, both of you moaning at the fulfilling sensation.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathes out as he pushes all the way inside before starting to pull out.

“Go hard, Harry. Please!” you whimper as he starts thrusting into you. Harry lets out a growl and slams into you, making you gasp at the harshness of the movement, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

The kitchen is filled with the noises coming from the washer next to you and the slapping noise of Harry’s hips meeting your ass with every forceful thrust he makes. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips, probably already making them red, but you couldn’t care less. You hold onto the edge of the counter, but then you move one hand to cover his on you, needing to touch him in some kind of way.

Leaning forward Harry kisses your back between your shoulder blades through the thin material of your shirt and you moan his name when he hits the perfect spot inside you.

“Shit, Harry! I’m g-gonna cum!” you gasp, perking your ass up more so he can go as deep as possible.

“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”

“I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah? Then hold on for a little longer, I’m almost there.”

You try your best to keep everything inside you under control, your orgasm is really on the edge and you can only hope he is nearing his end too.

“Harry! Please!”

“Fuck, okay, okay, cum for me! Let me feel you!” he moans and his words bring you the release.

You clench around him, moaning and whimpering and it finally pushes you into his bliss too. His thrusts slow down but they are hard and go deep, helping you ride the last bits of your high.

He pulls out and gets rid of the condom before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you up from your position so he can kiss your lips.

“How about we take a shower while the washer finishes?” he suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Mm, good idea.”

Once the song is fully finished you submit it to your label after an agreement that it should come out through yours, but it wouldn’t be tied to your or Harry’s upcoming album. Everyone seems to love it, Taylor is over the moon when you show her the final version and Jeff is just as happy about it. Having only three more weeks left until the Grammy’s, you send them your request to perform the duet instead of the medley they asked. Their answer comes the next day and they are more than happy to have you premiere your new duet at the show. Everything seems to be on track.

Following a rehearsal for the Grammy performance, you’re staying over at Harry’s, just eating takeout and having a lazy evening after a whole day of working. You’ve put on a new Netflix movie, but every time you look at Harry you feel like his mind is somewhere far away.

“Want to share what’s on your mind?” you ask softly, not wanting to be pushy, you’re just trying to be there for him.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” He looks up at you, clearly hesitant whether he should share it with you or not.

“About what you said about your parents.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. Pausing the movie you turn all your attention to him. “What about it?”

“I was just talking to my mom the other day, she is coming here for the Grammy’s and I thought about how you… won’t have your parents there with you.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, but then I thought about how you said you haven’t even let them contact you since then and that maybe they’ve changed their mind about the whole situation. You’ve clearly proved them wrong with building yourself a career, maybe they can now see that what they did was wrong.”

You remain silent, chewing on his words. You’ve been great at not thinking about your parents these past years, it feels weird to have a conversation about them out of nowhere. Harry takes your silence as a warning sign, though that’s not the case.

“You know what? I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s not really my business, I shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry,” he shakes his head.

“What… would you do if you were in my place?”

Harry looks at you, surprised you are willing to continue the conversation. His hand finds your thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I think it might worth a shot to just… contact them. See if they want to maybe get in touch again.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then… you know you made the right decision leaving. I know it’s scary, but I think you should take a chance.”

“I’ll… think about it,” you nod shortly.

“Take your time, do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get comfortable in his embrace before starting the movie again.

Two weeks before the show you are headed to a fitting with Harry, your matching sets are nearly done, but they needed you to try them on and make sure they fit just perfectly. True to your and Harry’s extravagant fashion, this performance won’t lack any over the top fits either. It was clear from the beginning that you would be matching, but you made it clear that you want to bring it to the level where you’d be wearing the exact same outfit, so now there are two sets of suits in the making, the pattern of the whole two piece is recalling a kind of space vibe, blues, purples and black meeting in the colors with hundreds of embroidered stars and planets littering the fabric with additional crystal stars to make it even more extra. It’s truly one of a kind, especially paired with the sheer, tulle shirt you both will be wearing underneath.

“We look fucking great, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you stand next to each other, examining yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the small podium.

“We really do,” you smirk, satisfied with how the performance is coming together. It’s gonna be the perfect way to celebrate both your first Grammy nominations, a huge milestone in your and Harry’s career as well.

Grabbing his phone he quickly takes a picture in the mirror of the two of you, pulling you to his side as you smile into the camera through the mirror. Then you leave him alone on the podium as they are pinning his pants to make it the perfect size. Stepping to your bag you fish your phone out and reading just the first few words of Taylor’s last message she sent about ten minutes ago, you feel all blood rushing out of your face. Tapping on the notification you start reading.

Taylor: Please don’t lose your head, but we are dealing with this.

She attached several articles and you start digging through them.

“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”

“Harry Styles cozied up with Y/N Y/L/N at dinner with friends.”

“Can we expect some hot make out sessions at the Grammy’s from Harry and his new beau?”

And then there’s the absolute worst.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N going to take Harry Styles to court too?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble under your breath, vigorously typing back to Taylor to take them down. Two pictures have been leaked from the time you had dinner with Sarah and Mitch, it’s so odd because it’s been weeks since then, where were these pictures all along? Not that it matters, all you want is for them to be gone.

Against your better judgment, you go online and check your social media even though you know you shouldn’t snoop around now that it’s out there. No surprise, you and Harry are trending, but the reactions are very much mixed.

The impact of your case with Jordan is still major. It doesn’t matter that you won, people are still questioning whether he said the truth or not and now they are afraid you might drag Harry down just like you did with Jordan. That you are just trying to use his fame to get more attention and then ruin his career, making a victim out of yourself again, because apparently that’s what you’ve been doing.

You’re not only being dragged, but all of a sudden, nothing is about the music and the art you are making, people just want to know if you’re fucking Harry Styles or not. A lot of the times you’re not even named, only referred to Harry’s new lover or what’s worse, his hookup. You’ve lost all the credit you worked so hard for and for what? Because you dared to have dinner with a man?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asks walking up to you. Your eyes snap up at him and he immediately sees the shock and anger in them, setting panic in him as well. “What is it?”

“The fucking… pictures,” you hiss handing him your phone so he can see the articles for himself. He scrolls through them with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before handing the phone back once he has gotten to the end of it.

“Let’s finish this up and head home, okay? We’ll figure it all out.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you nod, trying your best to keep your anger at bay while the designers finish up on the outfits.

An hour later you walk into your place, talking on the phone with Taylor, discussing the situation though there’s not much you can do at this point. It’s all out, the pictures can’t be taken down. She suggests to just keep quiet for now, she’ll call Jeff to see what could be done as damage control.

Throwing your phone to the bed you feel your whole body shaking from the anger, it’s agonizing to know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll figure it out,” Harry speaks up, trying his best to calm you down, but it’s not really working this time.

“Stop saying it, you don’t know that for sure. I can’t believe this bullshit is happening all over again,” you breathe out shaking your head.

“Again?”

“Yes! I’m being fucking dragged for something I shouldn’t be.”

“People will always have controversial opinion on everything, you can’t get them all to like you.”

“It’s not about liking, Harry!” you snap. “I couldn’t give a damn about people liking me, but they discredit my work. Have you read those articles? I’m seen with a man and suddenly, I’m not even seen as an artist anymore. I’m not even my own person in some of them, just a girl who is linked to you. How is that fair?” “It’s not, but stressing yourself about it until you’re sick is not gonna help anything,” he retorts in a firm voice.

“So I should just sit around and so nothing while watching all my work go to shit?”

“Nothing is going to shit! This is how it goes, there’s always something people talk about but they will forget about it in a week. That doesn’t take anything away from what you’ve proved through your career.”

“Now that’s a lie. Because if they did forget about things in a week, they wouldn’t be bringing up the whole Jordan thing now. I dared to stand up for myself against a man and look where it took me to! I’m the drama queen, the lying bitch who likes to ruin men for apparently no reason and they see me as a threat when it comes to you too. People are talking about how I’ll take you to court as well, they think I’m just using you even though they know nothing about me! And the worst part is that it wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a woman. Whatever happens, however we react to the situation, it will never have the same effect on your career than it will have on mine.”

“So what, you’ll just live your life without ever doing anything that’s gonna upset people? There will always be someone who’ll judge whatever you do, you can’t do anything about that and if you let them get to you now, they’ll know they can mess with you easily.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore everything? And not do a single thing about it? It’s easy for you, you’ll walk away from this without a scratch on your name, because you are a white man who can do no wrong in the eyes of the world.”

“Okay, now you are being mean for no reason.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you retort. “And you know what else is part of the truth? That I’m not even having it the worse. There are women who are even more targeted because of their religion, their skin color, their nationality or sexuality and people don’t even realize how hard it is for any of us. I’m sick of the injustice we have to live with just because of our gender!”

“I do acknowledge the problem on hand, I’m aware of it and I’m all for doing against it, but we are not gonna solve it instantly, it’s a long process. Sometimes we just have to pull back a little, be smart about things.”

“They will never stop about this,” you shake your head, stubbornly clinging onto your opinion. “I won’t be seen as a serious artist anymore, just some girl who was linked to you. It’s fucking done, over.”

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” Harry asks with caution.

“Exactly what you are thinking about,” you reply with a bitter laugh. “I can’t be a respected artist if I’m with you.”

“That’s not true. It will die down, they will see that you are more than just who you’re dating and everything will be fine.”

“What’s not fair is that I have to work for it to be fine while you are still the same artist you were before it all blew up. Don’t you think it’s unfair?” you call him out and part of you knows you’re being mean and unnecessarily rude to him, but you just can’t control it any longer. You need to let it out and unfortunately, he is the one who is here to take the blame.

“It is, but what are you expecting me to do about it? Release a statement asking people to only talk about my dating life to make it equal? What can be done is that we try to fight this together, show them that you’re more than just a woman who is linked to a man in any kind of way.”

“Yeah, like realization is just gonna hit them,” you snap. “I’m at a turning point in my career, Harry. Whether I win a Grammy or not, this time is going to have an impact on my future. If I’m seen as just a girl linked to you, I’ll never make it. I’ll be forgotten and dragged again and I can kiss my career goodbye.”

You know you were way too harsh, but it’s what you think to be the truth. You didn’t fight your way to this point in life just to be seen as a man’s girlfriend rather than the artist you truly are. And right now, you can’t see yourself get out of this situation without letting go of Harry.

“Y/N, please don’t let this ruin what we have. We can get through this, you can’t let them control your life this much. Who are they to tell you what to do? That’s not the Y/N I know, come on!”

He tries to step closer, reaching out for you, but you take a step back, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“I would prefer to be alone now,” you sternly say, folding your arms on your chest, closing yourself off from him as you don’t even look at him, because if you did, you know you would break.

“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“

“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.

He stares at you, hoping you might change your mind, but you’re quite set on this. He knows you well enough to know you won’t budge anytime soon. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly turning around, he heads towards the door as you’re already fighting your tears back. He stops right before he is about to walk out.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he quietly says before walking out, the door shutting closed behind him.

The sobs start immediately and you fall to the ground, tears soaking your cheeks, already missing him more than anything in your life. You really thought it would be different this time, that things might get better, but you were naïve.

The next two days go by in a blur. The whole fucking internet is filled with those damn pictures of you and Harry, nothing has been about any of your Grammy nominations or even about your music, you’ve officially became the woman Harry Styles is dating.

Harry was titled as a Grammy nominee in every goddamn writing that surfaced, he was completely credited for his work while you could be happy if your name was written correctly. With every new article, your faith in having the career you worked so hard for lessened until you felt hopeless. You’ve officially became a dumb celebrity, just a woman who was known to be dating a man in the industry.

On the evening of the second day you have enough. You just read yet another degrading piece of you that was clearly written by a man, they once again talked about your case with Jordan, joking about history repeating itself and you swear you could scream and throw a tantrum like a baby at how useless and helpless you feel.

You put your laptop to the side and reach for your phone, dialing Taylor’s number.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks right away, knowing well how hard these past days have been. She came over the evening you sent Harry away and tried to comfort you, but nothing could help you that night.

“Hey, I want to ask you to do something and not try to talk me out of it.”

“Oh God…” she sighs, already knowing you’re about to do something stupid according to her.

“I don’t want to perform at the Grammy’s.”

“What? With all due respect, are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m not stupid. But I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, this has got to be the most ridiculous move you’ve ever tried to pull. Why do you want to throw such a huge thing away?”

“I can’t… sing that song with Harry. If I stand on the stage and sing with him… I just can’t do it, Tay.”

“Of course you can! Suck it up! I know you miss him and it fucking sucks what’s happening, but you have to do it!” she tries to convince you, but you’ve already made your mind up.

“No. I’m not doing it. Please let them know that it’s going to be just Harry performing.”

And with that, you end the call.

Taylor knows better than to try to fight you, she doesn’t call back though you know she wants to murder you right now probably, but she’ll come around, she always does. You make yourself a tea hoping to relax your nerves with it though you know nothing can help you now. You wish you had someone to rely on, someone you could talk to right now, but usually Taylor is that person to you and lately Harry has been your support, but you can’t call either of them. The rest of the people you consider friends… they are just not that close to you. You’re left alone, again.

As your gaze wanders over to your phone, a thought pops up in your mind that makes your hands sweat. You think back to the conversation you had with Harry about your parents and you can’t shake the urge off to finally make that call.

“Fuck it,” you breathe out and grab the device, opening up the contacts until you find what you’ve been looking for. Your thumb hovers above the call button for a while before you finally tap on it and start the call. It rings four times before a voice speaks up on the other end.

“Halo?”

“Hi mom,” you reply and hear a gasp from her at your voice.

There’s less than a week left until the Grammy’s. For your own sake, you haven’t been online outside of answering work emails, you just can’t deal with the shit show your life has become on the internet.

You haven’t left your home unless you really needed to go somewhere, did most of your meetings over the phone or videochat and postponed a fitting as well. You’ve officially caved yourself up in your apartment and you are not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Taylor keys herself in, she hasn’t even mentioned that she might drop by, but you’re not surprised. She is probably here to try to bring you out of this pity party you’ve been holding for days. When she sees you lying on the couch in sweats and messy, unwashed hair, she sighs, shaking her head.

“You really need to pull your shit together, Y/N.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your fuzzy blanket up to your chin.

“No, you’re not. This is not the bad bitch I know.”

“Bad bitches have bad days too.”

“This is not a bad day, you look like a fucking zombie. This is not what a Grammy nominee should look like days before the big show.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m performing or anything,” you shrug, but the look in Taylor’s eyes make yours go wide. “Taylor, I’m not performing, you informed them about it, right?”

“This is why I’m here,” she sighs walking closer, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I never cancelled on your performance.”

“I told you I’m not doing it!” “I know, but I was hoping you might come around. But you seem to be still acting like a stupid bitch, so that didn’t happen. However, I’ve gotten an interesting email today.”

She pulls out her phone and opens the email before handing it over to you. Shooting her an unhappy look you start reading.

-

Hi Taylor!

I got your email address from Jeff, wanted to write to you myself. I’ve officially pulled out of the Grammy performance so it’s going to be only Y/N in it. We are also working on a statement to release over the whole ordeal and my lawyers have been after the bigger gossip sites to get the articles down. I want Y/N to have the Grammy experience she deserves and I know it can’t happen with me in the performance. Tell her that I’m sorry for ruining it for her, she deserves so much more. I’m sorry she was brought into this.

I hope to see you soon, take care!

Harry

-

With parted lips, you look up at Taylor who is smiling softly at you.

“He… pulled out for me.”

“He did. Talked to Jeff on the phone, they have already let them know Harry wouldn’t be performing, they will make it official tomorrow.”

“But he deserves this just as much as I do. He is a nominee too.”

“Well, seems like he values you more than his own success.” Taylor lets out a long sigh and scooting closer she places a hand to your knee. “Look, I know you’re upset about how the media treats you just because you were seen out with Harry, and I know that you’re afraid of getting labeled as just the girl he dates and not get taken seriously as an artist, but you can’t let them stop you from living your life how you want to. There will always be judgment, there will always be men who are worse than trash and want to bring you down, but you are stronger than that. Pushing Harry away and being alone for the rest of your life is not a solution. What you can do to put them to their place is give them a big fuck you, date the hottest man in the industry and continue being the bad bitch that you are, fighting against the way you are being treated. Speak up, show them who they are dealing with, share your truth, like you always do! But you can do all of this with Harry by your side. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy, don’t make yourself miserable because we live in a world where men are still placed above women. Fight for the change but don’t forget to think about yourself as well in the process.”

You feel the tears sting in your eyes. The weight of this past week is just way too heavy to carry, but Taylor is right and you are realizing that you’ve made it harder for yourself. The sobs come before you could stop yourself and Taylor pulls you into a hug.

“I know, I know. It fucking sucks, but you can’t let them win,” she soothes, running her hands up and down your back. “Show them how big of a bad bitch you are and get the man too.”

“You think Harry still wants to be with me?”

“I think that man would be on his knees for you in a heartbeat if you asked,” she chuckles pulling back. “Statement about the performance will be released tomorrow. That’s how long you have to figure it out,” she tells you with a knowing look before leaving you alone with your thoughts, however you don’t have to think long what you have to do.

You have not been the only one these past days took a toll on. The fight the two of you had left Harry completely drained, angry and helpless. He hated that he was the reason you weren’t credited as the talented artist that you are and he couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make it better. That’s when he came up with the idea of pulling out of the performance.

Now he is ready to spend the remaining days until the award show hidden from the world, not even leaving the house. Everyone close to him knows he is better not to be disturbed now, so he is quite surprised when the security system lets him know that someone has arrived.

As you drive up to his house you spot him immediately, stepping out the front door with a shocked look on his face, probably expecting you to be the last person to be there at the moment. You wipe your sweaty palms against your thighs as you walk up to him, feeling anxious to see him and talk to him, especially after the last conversation you had.

“Hey, I’m sorry for coming here without calling or anything…” you shyly start, stopping in front of you.

“Don’t be silly. Come… Come on in,” he clears his throat inviting you inside.

You’ve walked through this front door so many times in the past almost two months, but this is the first time you feel so odd, standing out, like you have no place in here and it’s all thanks to yourself.

“Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Harry walks past you but then turns to face you, talking to you with such warmth and kindness, even after how you acted, putting blame on him for something he has no control over. It completely breaks you and can’t stop your eyes from watering as you look at him. You really hoped you’ve run out of tears in the past days, but it seems like that’s not the case at all.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out shakily and you step closer to each other at the same time, he envelopes you in his strong arms and you fist his shirt at his chest. “I know it was none of your fault, I just got so desperate and afraid that it might ruin what I worked so hard for.”

“I know. And you were right about everything. Everything you said was true and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t right to be mad at you just because you have different privileges, it’s not like you can change who you are. So I’m really sorry about that, and also for pushing you away when you were just trying to be there for me. I was so stupid,” you breathe out, wiping the tears sliding your cheeks down away.

“You just panicked, it’s okay. Don’t apologize for wanting to protect yourself.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder you wait for your sobs to die down before you look back up at him. Reaching up he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at you warmly and that smile alone ensures you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the right person.

“Taylor showed me the email you sent her,” you bring it up, clearing your throat.

“You deserve it all to yourself so people can see how amazing of an artist you are.”

“I’m not doing it without you,” you shake your head stubbornly. “We wrote the song together and we’re gonna perform it together or else I’m not doing it either.”

“Y/N, you know if we step on that stage together they are gonna twist the whole thing and make it about something else. I want you to have this opportunity for your career without me ruining it with just my presence.”

“Fuck them, if they take it as something it’s not. They are not gonna take the chance away from us to perform our song. If they are such fucking dumbasses that they make it all about what’s between us, that’s their own personal problem. If I need to, I’ll go on a Twitter rant and tell them this myself. I want you on stage with me or else I’m not doing it either.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, pressing his lips together as he stares back at you, probably realizing you are dead serious about pulling out of the performance and he is right. He doesn’t even know you were the first one to cancel on it, you’d do it again without hesitation.

“I guess we are performing then,” he cracks a small smile and throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down, lips smashing against his, the kiss mingling with giggles and smiles.

Harry wraps his arms tight around your waist, pulling you up from the ground as he spins you around, making you squeal as you hold onto him.

“I have to call Jeff to call the Grammy’s not to post the statement,” he hums against your lips and he pecks them a few more times before letting go of you to quickly make a call to his manager.

You move over to the couch in his living room as he talks to Jeff, who is luckily very understanding about the sudden change. Hugging your knees to your chest you watch him pace the floor, exchanging a few more words with the man on the phone before ending the call, his gaze dropping to you again. Sitting beside you, he kisses your temple, dropping an arm around your shoulders as you lean against him, head resting on his chest.

“I called my mom,” you drop the bomb suddenly and you can feel him tense up for a moment, probably shocked by your words.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head your gaze meets his as you carry on. “She was… very shocked to hear my voice.”

“I bet,” he hums. “What did you talk about?”

“I just… asked how they are doing and told her that I’ve been thinking a lot about them. She sounded genuinely touched by it and said I’m always welcomed for dinner or lunch if I’d like to see them.”

“That’s amazing! See, I told you they would love to hear from you!”

“Yeah,” you smile at him softly. “I think I want to go over sometime after the Grammy’s.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”

“Would you please come with me?”

Your question catches him off-guard he seems surprised that you would want him there, but then his expression softens as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I would love to, if you want me there.”

“I do,” you nod.

“Then it’s settled,” he smiles warmly as you lay your head back to his chest, his fingers gently dancing up and down your arm and for once in your life you finally feel settled, like everything is going to be fine.

Highlights of the 63rd Annual Grammy Awards: Y/N Y/L/N blows up stage with new hit duet

The killer duo surprised us all with a brand new duet titled Floating Through Space, performed it together on their big night. Wearing matching galaxy themed suits, Y/L/N and Styles have closed off the evening with probably the most success, the latter winning two out of his three nominations, receiving the award for Best Music Video and Best Pop Vocal Album with his latest album, Fine Line, while Y/L/N was titled best new artist, becoming a Grammy winner early in her career.

Tabloids blew up earlier this month when the two singers were photographed cozied up at dinner with friends, speculations started about their possible romance, but Y/L/N has made a clear statement on the question with her red carpet appearance before the award show. Wearing a head to toe black Gucci gown paired with a dramatic cape, the message “I’M AN ARTIST, ASK ME ABOUT MY ART” painted onto it in red, making a bold statement about her opinion on the way the media has been treating the star.

Both singers remained silent on their alleged romance, but proved to be the best of their time with their joined performance with their new emotional duet. Following the song’s debut on stage it was released to the public as a single right away, taking over all charts with its overwhelming success.

Listen to Floating Through Space now on Spotify and Apple Music!

Your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel as you stare up at the home you grew up in. It looks almost the same, sometime through the years you haven’t been around your parents have painted it a light blue color from the paste yellow, but it’s still… the same.

“Hey.”

Turning to your right you look at Harry who is smiling at you warmly as his hand reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, you’re still their daughter.”

“That’s not what they told me the last time I was here,” you whisper, feeling your throat closing up.

“We all say things in the heat of the moment. Seeing how happy they were about this lunch proves that they regret what happened.”

Nodding you take a deep breath to get ready for whatever is going to happen. Leaning over the console you pull Harry in for a kiss and it calms your nerves a little. Getting out of the car he takes your hand and squeezes it to let you know he’ll be right by your side all along. As you walk up to the front porch a sense of strong nostalgia washes over you.

You didn’t have a bad childhood, your parents provided you so much growing up, it’s sad to think what it has become. In a way you feel more anxious than walking the red carpet a week ago for the Grammys even though you’re just meeting your parents, but this is a turning point in your life that needed to come sooner or later.

“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be fine,” Harry murmurs, kissing your forehead before you ring the doorbell, feeling weird that you come here as a guest, not as someone who belongs here.

You hear footsteps approaching on the other side, two frames appear through the clouded glass of the front door and then it flies open, pushing all air out of your lungs, clinging tightly onto Harry’s hand. There’s a moment of silence and just staring at each other before the tiniest smile tugs on your lips.

“Hi mom, hi dad.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reading #harry styles x y/n

[egcdeath]

act natural

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: sometimes, you just have to share the bed. 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: fluff, sharing a bed, idiots in love, cheesy

a/n: this is really just an excuse for me to write a lot of self indulgent bants, but it’s also a part of @stargazingfangirl18’s soft!dark challenge, and i decided to write something soft and use the prompt of only having one bed! (p.s. i like did not edit this at all so if a few words are used a lot pls forgive me) 

Dinner at the safehouse was finally wrapping up after a long day of getting your ass beat by an angry android and a few enhanced teenagers. You and everyone else around you seemed to be more than exhausted from the extensive day of revisiting deeply repressed traumas, and petty arguments between teammates over who was truly at fault for every predicament you found yourselves in.

You took a long and final swig from a beer bottle, glancing up to Bruce and Nat as they stood up and pushed in their chairs, retiring for the night. 

“Thanks for hosting us, Laura,” Natasha offered, grabbing her plate from the dinner table, and dropping it off in the dishwasher.

“Of course, guys. Any time,” she gave a half smile to her friend, then looked back at the table, where everyone else had taken the memo, and found themselves somewhere in the process of leaving the table, or grabbing their dishes, “but before you all go, I wanted to warn you that someone else is gonna have to share a room tonight.”

You glanced over at Steve, who was on your left, and Tony, who was sat at the head of the table. You and Steve shared an awkward chuckle at the thought of being in the same bed, not even considering the similarly uncomfortable situation of sharing a bed with Tony. 

“I think I’ll be rooming alone. These two lovebirds can share,” Tony chided before either of you even had a chance to think of a response. You looked back over at Steve, whose cheeks were currently dusted with a light shade of pink, and the bigger man quickly looked away from you.

“Tony, you know we are not- you know what, nevermind,” you huffed, deciding the argument was not worth it. 

Tony shook his head as he dropped his dishes off in the dishwasher. “So no objections?” he asked teasingly, eyeing you both with a smirk on his way back from the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?” You could’ve sworn you heard Clint and Fury laughing to themselves before excusing themselves from the table, and dispursting though the house.

Besides the slight humiliation of being teased for your situation, you weren’t too concerned about the act of spending the night, or next few nights with Steve. You and Steve were friends, or something like that. Just a few pals with crushes that you refused to admit to each other (or yourselves).

Pushing this thought aside, you grabbed the neck of your empty beer bottle, along with a few pieces of silverware and marched off to the mechanical cleaner yourself. You dropped off the things that needed to be cleaned, tossed your bottle in the recycling bin, then went to turn away when Steve grabbed your arm, automatically catching your attention. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked, letting his vice grip on your arm go.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you upstairs,” you muttered before speeding off, and heading upstairs where you strolled into the only vacant room, with the door wide open, and both your own and Steve’s duffle bags on the floor. 

You made a mental note to thank whoever brought them in (probably Laura), and dug through your bag to find something even slightly comfortable to sleep in, eventually settling on an oversized shirt and your favorite cotton shorts. 

You had just barely finished changing in the tiny closet when you heard the soft click of the room door, notifying you of Steve’s arrival. You slid open the closet door, and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto the left side, and reaching for your phone as a distraction. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Steve asked, searching through his own bag until he found the only clean comfortable pair of pants he had in there, that just happened to be a jokey Christmas gift donned with a red white and blue color scheme, and graphics of mini shields on it.  

“What the hell, Steve. Of course not,” you set your phone down so that you could get a better look at him. “We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” You could live with that excuse, especially considering that it would not be very becoming of you to tell your crush that missing an opportunity to sleep in the same bed as him feels like a federal crime. 

He stood up from his squatting position, squeezing into the tight space of the closet so that he could change into the corny pants, and finally get out of his clothes from the day, “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Well, they won’t be as long as you stay on your side, okay?” You said petulantly, setting two pillows across the middle of the queen sized bed and attempting to ignore the excited butterflies in your stomach. 

“I will,” Steve responded, exiting the closet slipping into the right side of the bed cautiously, and looking at the wall that was facing him.

You glanced over at Steve, and when you caught wind of his shirtless torso, you couldn’t help but to look away with a warm face,“this is so awkward now,” you said after a beat. “Why couldn’t you have roomed with Tony?”

“Tony is the worst bed mate ever. Total blanket and pillow hog,” Steve chuckled, attempting to ease up some of the tension.

“You’re no saint either. I’ve heard you’re a cuddler,” you bantered back, allowing yourself one more glance at the man. Steve seemed to be having the same thought as you at the same time as you, as your eyes briefly met. 

It was uncomfortably silent in the room once more, and you reached over to your nightstand to turn off the bedside lamp, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Steve,” you turned your back to the border of pillows, fell into a fetal position, and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of peace after such a bizarre day. You tried not to dwell so much on the horrors you’d been forced to face earlier, and instead relied on the rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to you to ground you.

----

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but a jolting of your bed, and a bit of a commotion coming from somewhere in your room pulled you away from your unsettling dreams.

Blinking yourself awake, you uncurled your body, and rolled over to look at Steve, whose legs were thrown over the edge of the bed while he panted heavily.

“Steve?” you slurred sleepily, “you ‘kay?”

“’m fine,” he yawned.

“Well you woke me up,” you mumbled, throwing your head back against a pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was having a shitty dream anyway.”

“Really? I was too,” Steve refused to look at you, staring blankly at the wall.

“So tell me about it,” you hummed.

“It’s just… I keep thinking about how I missed out on so many things from the past. I could’ve been happy, living out my days in a semi-peaceful and familiar world. Not anything like this.”

You sat up as you listened, pushing aside a pillow from the border you’d constructed to move closer to Steve and set a reassuring hand on his back.

“I guess I just wish that I was there. With everyone and everything I used to know.”

“But it’s not all bad, right?” you offered, and Steve shrugged before looking down. 

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that I’ll never truly understand that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’re here now, and you have no other choice but to make the best of it. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if you spend all of your time in the present lamenting about what things could’ve been in the past, you’re just gonna be miserable forever,” you rambled sleepily, words slurring occasionally. 

“Your experience is so unique, so I could be getting this all wrong, but there are plenty of good things here in the now. I mean, a world without the internet? I don’t know if that’s a world worth living in,” you chuckled softly, and were joined in your quiet laughter by the man on the other side of your bed.

“Seriously, though. I know you can’t control your dreams, but maybe your subconscious is letting you know that it’s okay to let go. Of like, the past. It might just be time for you to move on and be happy. I’m sure that Peggy and everyone else from your past would’ve wanted that for you too.” In the dark, you saw the silhouette of Steve’s head nodding. 

“You always know what to say, huh?” he asked, kicking his legs back over onto the bed while you scooted back over into your previous space. 

“I’m like half asleep right now, Steve. If you asked me to repeat half of what I just said, I would not know what to say,” you giggled. 

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Steve asked in a concerned tone. 

“Mmm, I actually just wanna go to sleep. As crazy as that may sound,” 

“Is there anything that I can do to help you not have another bad one?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, becoming a bit more lethargic by the moment. “Spoon me?”

“As you wish,” Steve happily obliged, grabbing one of the pillows from the middle of the bed and adding it to his stash of pillows. 

You threw a pillow from the border between your knees, and received a strange look from Steve. “What? I heard it’s good for your back.” He still didn’t seem convinced. “Stop being so judgy and cuddle me already,” you murmured, turning your body so that you could lay on your side.

Steve scooted closer to you, and you pressed your back to the front of his chest. He tossed an arm over you and somehow managed to pull you even closer to him. You swore you hadn’t been this comfortable since you left the womb, and you nearly purred in response. 

“Can I make a request?” he asked.

You simply nodded.

“Can we just… talk until we fall back asleep?” 

“That’s really cute,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“You just have a relaxing voice!” he defended playfully.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just tell me about… I dunno, anything.”

“That was so helpful, Steven.”

“My bad. Tell me about your favorite… mission?”

“Mm, probably that one time you and I had to go undercover for like a month to bust that arms dealer.”

“Which one?”

“Some dude in the Midwest. Can’t remember his name.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I know who you’re talking about.”

“It was fun being your life partner for a month. We were really good at being domestic.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, we really were. Do you remember that cookout?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed at the memory. “Everyone else was getting so drunk, but you just… couldn’t. They were like Joseph, you’re such a beast, and shit. And who would’ve guessed that you, the old timer would be such a beast on the grill.”

“Well, who would’ve guessed that you were so good at cornhole?”

“Was I really that good? Or were you just really bad? Like really bad, especially for someone whose skill set revolves around having good aim,” you teased.

Steve scoffed and laughed, shaking his head at you. 

“How didn’t those people recognize us? I just don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised how much a beard and dyed hair can change your look.”

“I guess,” you sighed softly, and set a hand on top of Steve’s. “Does this feel counterproductive to you? We’re just sitting here giggling. We’re probably getting less tired.”

“I guess I am less tired. But I’m also not thinking about the impending robot apocalypse.”

“Well now that you brought it up, I’m thinking about the impending robot apocalypse. You better fix this, Rogers.” Emboldened by what must’ve been the butterflies in your stomach falling asleep, you began to roll a bit in his arms so you were facing each other, kicking away the pillow between your legs in the process. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“You’re the man with a plan, right? Think of something,” your lip quirked slightly in a smirk.

Steve leaned in just the smallest amount, before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “I got it. We can do one of those one word stories until we fall asleep.”

Well, that’s not exactly how you thought this moment was going to go. 

“Okay, I’ll start then,” you nodded, pressing your head down against a soft pillow, and looking up at Steve, “once.”

“There,” Steve added.

“Was.”

“A.”

“Death-bot,” you giggled. 

“Okay, Y/N. No. No more stories. We can just listen to each other breathe now until we fall asleep like before since you wanna ruin the mood.”

“What mood? And you listened to me breathe?”

“What else was I gonna listen to?” he furrowed his brows, “it’s too late for this anyway. We can talk in the morning.”

“All you had to do was tell me that it’s way past your bedtime, and I would be understanding. But goodnight anyway, Stevie,” you cracked him one last smile, not budging from your position as you closed your eyes. 

It was silent for a few minutes before Steve whispered up out of the blue, “you still awake?”

You slurred something into the pillow, much more asleep than awake. 

“Well, I really like you a lot. Maybe one day I’ll get the guts to tell you that when you’re not completely out of it.”

You grunted as a response, and Steve couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, not while he was falling asleep, and certainly not during his rather pleasant dreams.

——

You just couldn’t seem to catch a break with your wake up calls. While you and Steve seemed to sleep through the rapping against the door, and the door itself opening, you both seemed to become aware after the artificial shutter of an iPhone camera flooded through your ears.

“You guys just looked so cute, I wanted to archive this moment for the rest of time. And I’m sure the team will be glad to see that you got along well last night,” Nat teased as your eyes widened and you shot up. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, by the way.”

Well, you two were going to have a great time explaining this one. 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #avengers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

[zemosreader]

good girl ⎛ oneshot ⎠

MAIN PAIRING: Zemo x reader.

summary: you are set up on a blind date and get more than you planned for.

warnings: blind date, smut, good girl kink, restraints.

word count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST

You couldn’t stop fidgeting with the dress Sharon had all but forced you to buy. It was beautiful, you couldn’t deny it, definitely not your usual style. The dark green dress hit your mid-thigh and had a sweetheart neckline, it had a black lace overlay and fit you like a second skin. You had never felt more attractive really. Sharon had told you to leave your hair down and wild for the night and had done your make up, giving you a dark smokey eye with bright red lipstick.

When you had agreed two weeks before to let Sharon set you up on a blind date, you had had no expectations. Everyone in your circle were always on you to date, to settle down like they all had but no one had caught your interest. This blind date was mainly so they would all leave you alone, if only for a few weeks.

A throat cleared behind you and you jerked around, your eyes staring up into the dark brown eyes of Helmut Zemo. You couldn’t contain your jaw-dropping and it clicking shut when he lifted an eyebrow and smirked at you.

“Good evening.” He drawled in a voice that was so silky, you had to squeeze your legs together under the table.

“Yes,” you squeaked out, “good evening.”

He tilted his head toward you before rounding the table and sliding into the booth across from you. A waiter appeared almost instantly and you watched in silence as he ordered a bottle of wine you had never heard of. As the waiter scurried away, Zemo looked you over, an inscrutable look on his face. You suddenly felt very unprepared for the evening. The waiter returned, holding the bottle for Zemo's inspection before pouring you both a glass.

“Would you allow me to order for you?” he asked you quietly, though there was something about the tone of his voice that made you want to obey him.

Not trusting your voice you simply nodded and listened as he rattled off some food to the waiter.

“I must say, I was not expecting to see you this evening.”

Taking a sip of your wine for courage, you looked him over. “Me neither. I’m surprised actually. How did Sharon get you to agree to a blind date?”

“Sam talked me into it, actually. He told me I needed to get back into the dating game and he knew someone.”

You huffed. You couldn’t believe Sharon had brought more people in to witness your humiliation. Zemo leaned forward and reached across the table, catching your hand in his much larger one.

“I assure you, liebling, I’m not displeased with the company at all.” He brought your hand up to his lips before flipping it over and placing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Your eyes widened but he didn’t release your hand.

His voice was lower and he leaned even closer to you. “You see, I’ve been watching you from afar. You’re a beautiful woman, I’m surprised you’re unattached.”

“It’s not for a lack of wanting someone, I just haven’t found the right person I suppose.” your voice came out breathy in a way that was so unlike you but something about the man across from you was doing things to your insides you couldn’t explain.

The way he still held onto your hand, close enough to his lips you could feel his warm breath on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And what is it you’re looking for?” It was a question but again, the tone of his voice was more of a demand and it sent a shiver through your body.

“I uh, I suppose someone to spend my time with,” you said, rather ineloquently. The man across from you was so distracting and you were seriously regretting not being able to wear panties with your dress.

You stared as Zemo let go of your hand and stood abruptly. He slid into the booth next to you, one arm casually behind you on the back of the booth, the other coming to rest rather high on your thigh.

“I’m looking for much the same. Tell me, liebling, could you see yourself spending time with me?” he asked, his voice husky as he whispered in your ear.

Your breathing was uneven, coming out in short bursts. “I would certainly enjoy getting to know you more.”

His fingers toyed with the edges of your dress, sliding up just slightly and then they were gone just as suddenly as the waiter re-appeared with your food. Zemo continued sitting next to her as you ate, his left hand now firmly gripping your thigh. You couldn’t even be sure what it was you ate, to focused on the feeling of his hand.

Soon, dinner was ending and you allowed Zemo to lead you from the restaurant and down a dark alley. He wrapped his arm firmly around your waist, cocking an eyebrow as if asking your permission. When you nodded, he lead you away. The moment you stopped walking, you stood in what appeared to be the hallway of a newly remodelled house, his lips were on yours. One hand was palming your arse the other tangled up in your hair. Helmut Zemo may be many things, an excellent kisser now being at the top of your list. There was something about the man you couldn’t put your finger on but you were more than happy to find out what it was.

He pulled away and led your from the hall, up to several flights of stairs until you were outside of massive french doors. He threw them open and led the way into a grand bedroom with a massive king size bed covered in black silk taking pride of place. He turned to look at you and spun you around so your back was flush with his chest. Your breath caught as he began letting the zipper down on your dress. Slowly, the material fell away until you were completely naked. You let his hands explore your body, skimming up your sides gently, palming your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your dripping wet cunt.

Turning you back around, he looked down at you, his eyes alight with desire. He pushed your chin up until you made eye-contact.

“If this isn’t something you want, at any point, just say so,” he told you seriously.

Nodding your head, he smirked. “I need to hear you say it, liebling.”

“I...I want this. Whatever you want.” you stammered out.

“Oh liebling, don’t tell me that. You have no idea what all I want to do with you.” His left hand snaked down between the two of you and his fingers began teasing your clit. You gasped, it had been so long since anyone but yourself had done that and it felt amazing.

Blowing out a breath, you looked back up at him. “I think I can handle whatever you can throw at me.”

Before you realized what was happening, Zemo had scooped you up and dropped you on the bed. He began slowly removing his clothes, tossing everything to the side. You scooted up until you were leaning against the headboard, pillows and silk surrounding you as he made his way up the bed. He pushed your legs apart gently and kissed his way up your leg, never taking his eyes off of yours. The moment his tongue touched your cunt, you let out a moan, no longer caring. When you felt him slide two fingers into your pussy, you clenched around them as he began pumping in and out, licking and nipping at your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge. Just when you felt yourself fall over the edge, he quickly removed the digits, sucking them into his mouth.

His large, pale hands began sliding up her stomach, a stark contrast against your flushed skin. He palmed your breast, pulling one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first and them harder. Your breaths were coming out fast, your breast rising and falling quickly. Suddenly, he pulled you down from the headboard until he was towering over top of you. He smirked down at you before flipping you over suddenly, pulling you arse up so it was up in the air. Running his hands over it, he left a light, stinging slap. The sensation went straight to your core. You turned your head and found him holding the belt he had left on the bed.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked gently.

“Oh yes.” you breathed.

The moment the words left your mouth, he bent your legs so your heels were touching your arse. The cool leather encircled your thighs and calves and tightened. This was everything you had wanted and always been too afraid to ask for. Someone to dominate you in a way that still left you with a choice. Zemo kneeled behind you, his hands caressing your arse, up your back, your cheek, and then to your hair. He grabbed a first full and pulled your head back gently right as he pushed inside you.

“Good girl” he breathed out. A shiver of excitement at the words went through your entire body, drenching you even more.

Feeling full, you wanted him to move, to fuck you hard and fast. He started slowly at first, both adjusting to the feel of him full seated inside you. When he began rocking back and forth, you couldn’t hold back the moans.

“Harder.” you breathed out.

“As you wish.” He said, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you over and over, his thrusts becoming more frenzied, the grip on your hair loosening, his hand reaching under you and palming your breast, tweaking your nipple. You felt yourself coming undone, your muscles tightening around him. Just as you let herself come, you felt Zemo still inside you, filling you completely, deep inside you. His grip on your hip never loosened and you relished the thought that you may have to cover up a bruise or two.

When he pulled out from you gently, he rolled you over and pulled you on top on him, pushing your hair out of your face. You were only slightly surprised by the gentle smile on his face, the sated look in his eyes.

“I hope you don’t have any ideas about leaving. I’m not anywhere close to done with you, liebling.”

#baron zemo #tfatws #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #zemo x you #helmut zemo x you #baron zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x y/n

[daisies-and-buttercups]

Day 8: Tea - Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: Tea leaves can reveal the future and answer your questions if you know how to read them. That’s what you told Arthur, promising some answers about his love life, although you have no real clue how to read tea leaves at all.

A/N: I have no clue how to actually read tea leaves, so everything said here is what I read online, so to anyone that does know how to read them, I apologise 😂 Either way, hope Arthur isn’t OOC, I tried my best 🥺

Words: 1.4k

September prompts here

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“So now what?” “Now you wait. When it’s cool enough you can start sipping on it, but think about what you want to know!” “I want to…” he cleared his throat, looking down at the cup, then at you. “I want to know about my future?” “You’ve got to be more specific, dear.” His eyes softened with your words, feeling some of his nervousness fade away, only to be substituted by a thin layer of embarrassment.

“Arthur, honey, it’s alright, it’s only me.” That’s the damn problem, it’s you, he thought. It was you, the girl that was always around in the worst moments, but was always there to calm him down when he needed it. You were the one that took him into your home when he was too drunk to even remember where he lived, yet had no problem remembering which door led to you. “My love life.” He blurted out, straightening his jacket in an attempt to seem confident, rolling back his shoulders in the process. “Love life.” you smiled, amused. “Love life it is then. Drink your tea, slowly, please.” He placed his lips on the cup, gently sipping, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Keep thinking about what you want to know.” you reminded him, nodding. There was silence all around you, the room quiet, the evening breeze making you shiver slightly as you kept your eyes on him.

You remembered Arthur, the one that left for France, the feelings that ate you alive while he was away, the worry that you hid behind a friendly smile when he came back. He was alive, and he wasn’t well, but he was alive. There was enough drama for the Shelby’s without you being around with your silly feelings, but slowly you made your way back into everybody's life, fitting back in with them like you had back then, the feelings you had buried emerging once more. But they were nothing but feelings that you could deal with, until when Thomas approached you one night, warning you about your closeness to Arthur. “I see how he looks at you. It’s not good for him, I need him focused.” “Not good for him, or not good for you?” you retorted, focusing on your words rather that how fast your heart was now beating. “For me.” He confirmed, fixing his hat on his head. “I need him focused this week. Shit’s going down. After that, flirt all you like.” And you had. You stayed with a childhood friend for the week, until whatever they had to deal with was over, staying away from them, from him, going through what you felt. “Read his tea”, she had suggested. “I don’t know how to read tea.” “Well, just pretend. If he asks about his love life, play it in your favour.” “And if he doesn’t ask me about his love life?” “He will if you use the right words.” She joked, pretending to have a crystal ball in front of her, fully immersed in the act. You sighed, but decided to try.

And here you were now, waiting for him to finish most of his tea so that you could carry on. You studied how to read tea leaves, or at least, you started to, not really needing to know more than how to guide him through everything that happened before the actual reading. “Remember to leave some tea left, just enough to swirl everything around.” “Is this alright, love?” he asked, showing you the teacup, the right amount - you assumed - sitting at the bottom of the cup. “Perfect, now…” you placed your hands on his, holding the cup between the two of you, “you’ve got to swirl it three times, like this.” The cup moved from left to right, moving the tea leaves along inside. “Great. Now, invert the cup over the saucer. Take your time, remember what you want to know, …” He held the cup, looking right into your eyes, turning it over and placing it upside down. “Now?” he asked, tapping his finger on the table. “We wait.” Arthur sighed, scratching his head and looking around the room, counting down the seconds. When the minute had passed you turned the cup over, revealing the pattern it had left behind. “I see…” you muttered, remembering how dramatic your friend had been. You had to make the act believable. “Someone close to you. She’s… She’s very close to you. You know her well, you just have to accept your feelings for her.” “Right.” “But you have to take your chance. I see change, she might be gone soon, her fate intertwining with another man, unless you get to her first.” He looked at you, eyes wide. He couldn’t understand how you could gather all of that from that sad puddle of leaves left over, but you were rather close to him, and his feelings for you couldn’t be denied any longer, not after all the teasing he’d received from his brothers. He talked about you rather fondly one night after having drank a bit too much, revealing just how much he liked you, and they hadn’t shut up about it since then. “You have whiskey?” “Is the tea not to your taste?” you teased, gesturing to the cupboard to the side of the room. “Oh, I just need something rather strong to prepare myself.” “Prepare yourself for?” He held his finger up while he downed most of the contents of the bottle, gulping down more than he needed, just for good measure. “Arthur-” “You see, the tea knows.” “Right.” “I’m not good with words.” “Words aren’t always necessary.” You stood, smiling, taking a step towards him. He did the same, unsure of what to do, but eventually he found the courage to close the distance between the two of you, understanding the implication behind your words and caressing your lip with his finger before dipping down, his lips meeting yours, a simple action that he had dreamt of so many times, but was finally living for the first time. “About time, brother.” Tommy teased, swinging the door open with a smile, seeing the affectionate scene before him. “Tommy!” you scolded him, picking a spoon from the table and throwing it at him, hitting the door instead. “Right, broke me promise, sorry.” he spoke, feigning innocence, before winking at the two of you and closing the door behind him. “Promise?” Arthur asked you when Tommy left, his eyebrows dipped down in a frown. “I had asked not to disturb.” You muttered, realising how this looked. “Did he know about this?” “He… Well, he told me you liked me. But I wasn’t sure, so I wanted to find out and-” You tried to hold onto him as he broke from your grasp, moving away from you and walking to the whiskey, pouring himself another glass, as his hands shook with rage. “Arthur-” “Not from you. From Tommy, I’ll take it, but you…” He was furious, you could tell by the way he was pacing around, his fists clenched tightly. You jumped up, crossing the distance that separated the two of you and standing before him, interrupting his pacing by cupping his cheeks, getting him to look in your eyes, seeing that what he held inside so desperately, afraid of letting it out, wasn’t rage. He felt humiliated, afraid that you had schemed this to mock him just like his brothers did. You had done this many times before, when he had lost it. You knew how to calm him, you weren’t afraid of him, but this time you were the cause of this, not someone else, and it wasn’t rage. It wasn’t what you were used to, but being there for him grounded him nonetheless. “Arthur-” “Was this just a game?” “What?” “To make fun of me?” his voice broke, as well as your heart. “Arthur, dear, no. No. I… I’ve had feelings for you since before you left, but you had enough problems without me.” He looked at you, baffled by your words. Not only did you have feelings for him, but you saw yourself as a burden? “If I could take it all back, all this, I…” you looked at the tea leaves, the design that the leaves made slowly drying, “I wouldn’t change it. Now you know how I feel, and I know how you felt.” “How I still feel.” he corrected, forcing a small smile. His hands held your own, and you could feel how he still trembled lightly, the feelings he felt still finding a way around his body. “But I’m a broken man, love. I need fixing.” “I can’t guarantee that I can do that,” you smiled, ruffling his hair as you’d do with a child, “but I can guarantee that I’ll love you. I’ll be there for you when you need me.” “You always have.” “I always tried to.” The room was now dark, your silhouettes visible only thanks to the small candles that lit the place, their light low and warm. “So… Can you actually read tea leaves?” He asked, taking you in his arms. “My grandma used to! But no, I don’t.” you revealed, laughing. “Good to know.” He joined in on the laughter, bringing you closer to him and placing a kiss on your temple, revelling in the feeling of finally getting to hold you in his arms.

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #Liza's attempts at writing

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

tommy is definitely the most self conscious out of the trio while also being the least likely to say anything about it, anything said about his intelligence, appearance, weight, anything really just goes straight to his heart and eats at him. it leads to some amount of friction between him and billy bc while steve’s known tommy his whole life and has had ample time to analyze all his reactions (and is generally the most emotionally intelligent of the trio) he tends to simply praise tommy when flirting. billy just genuinely has no idea and loves to playfully tease tommy as a form of flirting, and even just in general for banter bc that’s just who he is. tommy almost always ends up crying in his car and it ends up taking his self image issues to a degree they haven’t been at since middle school and it goes on for MONTHS until anyone even realizes he’s hurting

instead of leaving off on an abrupt and non-comfort ending again, i’ll offer a nicer one this time. scouts honor. probably.

—

tommy had always been a second choice. besides for a short while when he was steve’s first choice. that was when it mattered.

steve would call him if he was lonely. steve would call him if he had new plans for a party. steve would call him if he was horny. they had their thing.

and then billy hargrove came along and steve stopped calling him as often. and then altogether it ceased.

for three weeks.

“hey, tommy,” steve slipped an arm over his shoulders. all smiley in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. like his mother’s.

tommy stopped himself from shrugging the touch off, decided to enjoy it while it lasted. “hey, how have you been. haven’t heard from you in a while.” he offered the comment as a passive reminder and steve took it. actually looked shocked, like he sincerely hadn’t even realized the passed time.

he took his arm back in but left his hand on tommy’s other shoulder, “i’m so sorry, tom.” his eyes lost their wrinkle and morphed into that deepened look he got when he messed up. tommy knew it very well. steve knew when he made a mistake, could tell easily and it tore him inside. tommy knew that. so he metaphorically bandaged it up per usual.

“it’s alright, man.”

steve linked their arms. tommy glanced around to make sure none of the big-shot homophobes were lurking. steve didn’t seem to care.

“are you sure? are you free friday night? billy and i are going bowling at six. you wanna join?” tommy could lose himself so easily in steve’s eyes. it was infuriating. what was also infuriating was billy. he loved the dude. stared at him just as much as he did steve probably.

but he seemed to never catch steve’s eye anymore.

he cleared his throat and slithered a hand up to steve’s back, “yeah, i’ll be there. same lane as always?”

steve ruffled his hair, earned a laugh out of tommy with it, “definitely. would never let it go. there’re too many memories of ours there.” tommy nodded in agreement and then halted unsurely at steve next words. “maybe we can even start including billy in them now, hm?”

the way he said it. wasn’t even remotely insinuating that tommy should take any hints other than more. but. what if they dropped him. what if steve just forgot about him entirely. what if billy did?

he looked right at steve after those backtracks. and he found only softness. no. they wouldn’t just let him fall off a ledge like that. steve would never.

when steve’s face started to fall he pinched his hip and laughed with him when he head butted tommy’s chest to escape it, he whispered into steve hair. “yeah, more the merrier. right?”

steve grazed his lips across tommy’s collar bone as he stood back up, that smile was the prize.

bowling on friday turned...not exceptional.

billy was a beast, as he was usually. tommy had to watch as steve touched all over him in the beginning. they got all unapologetically close and handsy to his dismay. steve looked at him exasperatedly after a while of billy not taking it seriously, he didn’t know if it was joking or not.

“can you come show hargrove how to steady the ball please. like you taught me. remember?”

tommy did remember. he frowned though, suspicious. the night tommy had tried that move on steve, had ended in their first kiss together. that was special.

but he stepped up and gently nudged and maneuvered billy’s calloused fingers into the ball. he bent his elbow slowly and tapped his shin to indicate the slightly kneeling stance. all while silent.

billy looked rather amused when tommy stepped back to continue, “are you shy? i like your voice, bud, use it.” it sounded more like an order than the flirty tease he was seemingly trying to produce.

tommy coughed and brought billy’s bent elbow back so the ball was closer to the ground, “you aim and you let the ball slip out. put some fire behind it or it’ll gutter. okay?” his tone was rushed but billy was staring at him intensely.

he felt steve’s familiar hand take hold of his bicep and tug him back. didn’t step away and kept close as they watched billy make his play.

he got a strike and threw them both the bird, “told you i didn’t need instructions.” tommy couldn’t hold his smile like steve could.

he cried silently against his pillow that night, thinking back on it.

billy was the one to catch him again three weeks later. the three of them had been going strong. closer due to steve, and even occasionally billy, making sure to invite him to new outings. threw his arm over his shoulders just like steve would normally. he found he liked how there was more muscle weight.

“your face got all red today during practice, have you been drinking enough water?” he poked tommy’s cheek lightly with his index finger. he couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or happy that billy was being so caring.

“i have a, uh, water bottle in my car,” he pointed off to the parking lot.

billy waved a hand dismissively, “steve’s meeting us at the fountain. let’s go there instead.” tommy smiled when billy’s arm grew more relaxed around him. tommy’s own limb was squished into billy’s side by how close they were. billy chuckled to himself and squeezed his hand around tommy’s arm. “you’re so plump,” he commented. tommy felt himself flush in humiliation. “so soft,” he thought he heard him whisper. but after that, billy didn’t say any more and he didn’t remove his hand. seemed content in a way tommy couldn’t understand.

he ended up sobbing in his car after their casual gathering. scratched at the part of his arm billy had held, willing the demeaning thoughts away. plump plump plump. pig.

steve kissed him again another three weeks later. right in front of billy. hugged him so they were hip to hip and so his hands were to the roots in tommy’s own feathered puff of hair.

he gripped the back of steve’s shirt with both hands. felt someone pry them off and hold them not too long after. when they broke off he saw billy staring over steve at him.

“don’t rip the polo now, big boy,” billy grinned and leaned his chin on steve’s shoulder. made a pucker sound and kissed the air towards him. steve turned his head and accepted a peck from billy before facing back to tommy. he felt his heart already shattering though.

steve hummed a pleased laugh with his eyes still closed and placed a hand behind tommy neck before guiding him right to billy’s mouth. his eyes were frozen open as billy’s closed and their lips touched for a short, dry moment.

tommy pulled away with a forced shove. stared right back at the wide open blue and brown eyes. he grabbed his coat off the back of steve’s desk chair and ran out. bawled his goddamn eyes out on the drive home. had to stop at a stop sign longer than he needed to just so he could clear his eyes enough.

don’t rip it. big boy. big. big. big. don’t rip it now. big. big. boy. boy.

he ignored both their calls.

two weeks later he allowed steve to walk with him to their cars.

“you look nice today,” he complimented after they’d been walking for a minute. “always did think yellow was your color.” tommy returned his smile, slowly. and then steve had those sunken eyes again, “i thought you liked him too,” he started off, tommy could tell he wasn’t sure how to carry the conversation.

“are you sure he likes me?” he asked.

steve gave an odd look, “are you kidding? he’s missed you so much he’s about to break into your house at this point.”

tommy blinked twice, “excuse me?”

steve scratched his temple unsurely, “he wants to apologize. we both do. we thought you felt the...same.”

“the same,” tommy repeated.

“tommy!” steve closed his mouth and they both looked over to where billy was jogging over.

steve nudged his arm, “see?” he gestured. billy reached them before tommy could step out.

“tommy,” billy breathed out with a small smile. not a smirk, a smile. “how are you?” the downturn of concern present in his eyes threw tommy off. this was new.

“i don’t really know anymore,” he responded. looked back at steve who hadn’t even turned away. they held their own contact, steve took his hand hesitantly. linked their fingers even slower.

“i’m sorry,” billy rushed out, captured all their attention with it. “it was my idea, to lay one on you.” they all squinted at the wording uncomfortably. tommy wasn’t sure if he was having trouble looking billy in the eye or billy was with him.

he took in a breath and felt both pairs of eyes on him, “i do like you. like...like that. but....” he closed off. but then steve rubbed his thumb across the back of his. the way he always did when encouraging him. so he went on even if he felt unconfident. “i think you’re gorgeous and funny. but, you say things sometimes that...i don’t know,” he excused, even though he did. he tightened his grip on steve’s hand, “it makes me feel ugly.”

he heard steve’s voice harden, “you’re not ugly. you’re the most handsome person i know.” tommy expected billy to make some comment about how he wasn’t even considered.

but what he heard instead was, “the damn cutest i’ve ever seen.”

he looked up at the two of them, took in their smiles and kindling eyes of adoration. aimed at him.

he realized it then, fully, “you both like me.”

steve opened his car door, “mhmmm,” he carefully tucked himself inside the backseat and pulled tommy with him.

tommy blankly watched as billy assisted him in the middle seat and closed the door so they were all inside. together.

billy cupped his cheek, “can i get that kiss by chance, sweet thing?”

he felt steve press a kiss onto his shoulder before he nodded vigorously. billy didn’t disappoint. none of them did.

#you’re lucky i kept going after ‘he ignored both their calls’ #yeah i said it #but here. happy ending 🙄 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tommy hagan #keg boys #harringrove #what’s the tag for billy x tommy? #idk but all of them #all the ship #stommy

[kopikokun]

(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

#taeil fluff #nct fluff #moon taeil #taeil nct #nct taeil #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #wayv #nct imagines #taeil imagines #nct oneshots #taeil oneshots #nct drabbles #taeil drabbles #nct scenarios #taeil scenarios #nct x reader #taeil x reader #nct reactions #taeil reactions #taeil #nct fics #taeil fics #nct

[physicalturian]

[G] A promise of hope - Gojo Satoru X GN!Reader

Request from @waywarduniversityshepherdturtle “Hi can i request for a jealous Gojo Satoru where out white haired guys is *kinda* intimidated with his s/o's good looking ex? Can start with an angst and end with a fluff ❤“

[No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [No spoilers from the anime or the manga]

Words: 2817 Warning: Angst, fluff, mention of death (thought he died)

It all happened because of one small thing, one joke. But it was the joke too many. I was trying to have a proper, serious discussion and he had to take it light-heartedly. He had to fool around, I loved him deeply but now was not the time. I was worried for him. Yes, he was strong, one of the strongest if not the strongest, but I could not help but get antsy, waiting for him to come back to the apartment we shared. We had promised each other to always come back, it was a stupid agreement to come to considering our line of work, but it helped us, or at least it helped me get some sort of reassurance.

 Except he did not come home last night, I was left waiting alone in the apartment, anguish eating me up as I sat in the couch. From there I had a good view of the door, and I could see him if he entered, bloody, beaten or just tired. Most of the time, it was just tired, and I was glad for that, and on rare occasion there were a few scratches covering his clothes and skin. We would treat them, then go to bed.

 But tonight, was not like that, I waited and waited. The clock ticking nearby reminding me of the silence that was wrapped around me, the lack of presence in my home. The lack of partner being loud and obnoxious. I just waited. Time was running by, but not quickly enough, it was painfully slow and my heartbeat was going as fast as the awful thoughts in my mind. Maybe the curse was too strong? Maybe he was working with someone and they turned on him? Maybe he was… maybe he was dead.

Those thoughts plagued my mind and never left as stress coursed through my body. I was tempted to call him, but I knew it would be too risky to call during a mission. My hands clasped on my knees did not stay there long, I kept moving, shifting on the spot, hands dry and cold. My stomach churning. I could not get any ounce of sleep that night, I simply waited, and waited some more. He never came home.

 At some point during that restless night, I fell asleep. When I heard a sudden noise in the house, I was startled awake and was ready to use my power when I saw the grinning face of my partner who stood by the fridge. The door of the latter was open as he looked at me over his shoulder. Slowly, I let my arms fall to my side and felt all the tension leave my body before shuffling towards him. I did not know what to say, maybe I was overexaggerating, maybe… but I dreaded his death, and here he was, fresh as a daisy. “Heya, I didn’t want to wake you up, you seemed sound-“ “No. Don’t.” I interrupted him as I gripped his hand and made him let go of the fridge door.

 I then closed it and stood by him; I do not know what I was feeling. Enraged? Relieved? Seething… Exhausted, sad… “What? Are you okay-“ “I’m not! I’m not okay, I thought- I thought you had fucking died Satoru!” He chuckled in response. He waved a hand in front of me, dismissively, while smiling. “I can’t die that easily, come on, who do you think I am? Ye of little faith-“ “You did not come home…” I breathed out. I was surprised by how weak my voice sounded as I looked at the floor, I wanted to sleep. But I was very awake, so many emotions were mixing up inside me. “Itadori let me stay at his place, I was too tired.” He explained, adding that I was overreacting.

 “Am I? Am I really? … Maybe I am… but, you know you- we-“ I gulped and shook my head. “That promise of coming home, I’m holding onto that every night, because you promised you’ll come home…” He laughed, he placed a hand on my head and laughed. “Come on, it’s just a silly little thing-“ “It’s not though, I care about that a lot, so when you did not come back, I panicked.” I explained a bit heartbroken. I thought we both needed that promise, I thought it helped us both but maybe it was only to indulge me.

 Cradling my face in his hands, he looked at me without ever taking off his glasses, “You got a little worried for me? How cute, look at you all-“ I slapped his hands and turned away, feeling some sort of humiliation from how he was treating me. “Satoru? Fuck you, I’m asking you to be serious for two fucking minutes and you’re being an asshole. I thought you were dead; can you get that through your thick skull? Can you at least try to understand what I’m feeling or is it too much to ask?” I had no control over the anger, the frustration, seeping through my words. I was tired.

 Taking a deep breath, I exhaled in a calming manner, hoping it’d help. Once I calmed at least a little bit, I placed a hand on his cheek. “Forget it, you’re home, right? That’s what matters, right? So how about you get some rest, and I’ll go see a friend.” I tried to force a gentle smile on my face, but deep down I felt a need to let it all out. He reached out for me, but I shook my head, taking his hand a few seconds before letting go. He said he could get changed and he could come along, but I refused, telling him I just wanted to spend some time with my friend.

 After getting dressed, I left the apartment in a rush and called my old friend that also happened to be my ex-boyfriend. He picked up quite fast and greeted me energetically, I tried to match his eagerness but he noticed how off it sounded and asked me what was going on. “I… I need some advice, someone to talk to- It’s okay if you’re busy though- you know what, forget it-“ “No, no, I’m just jogging in the park, let’s meet up there? How long will you take?” He asked softly, I heard the microphone rub against his shirt as he ran and it was slightly unpleasant but I couldn’t say anything, at least he picked up.

 “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there. The usual spot?” I asked, he agreed and said we’d see each other soon, before hanging up. I arrived right on time at our usual spot, being a picnic table under a big tree by the pond in the park in which we met a few years back. I don’t regret our relationship, but we only dated because we thought that’s what was going on between us, love, except we were better off as friends.

 Once I arrived, I could see him sitting on the table, not the bench around it, as he chugged his large bottle of water. He was very sweaty and no amount of slight breeze could freshen up his looks, and yet he was still pretty handsome like that. I suppose I had taste. Even though I did not feel anything for him anymore, I could observe a painting and see he had charms, that did not change. “Hi gorgeous beast.” He said as he tried to pull me into a hug, but I pulled back telling him he stank. He chuckled and patted the spot next to him, “It’s the smell of hard work, you wouldn’t know.” I would usually laugh, but right now I was not in the best mood, and he noticed.

 He did not waste time and asked me right away what was going on, I was taken aback but told him, vaguely what was going on. I did not say my boyfriend was a sorcerer, nor did I tell him about curses but I mentioned we were in a dangerous line of work both of us and everything else he needed to know. “… And he always jokes around, most of the time I love it but today, I was just… I genuinely thought he had died, and he did not realize that and kept treating it light-heartedly.” I sighed.

 My friend hummed pensively before speaking, “I think he’s masking his own worry with jokes, and tried to make you feel better by doing it to you too? Like, you know, like, maybe if he made it seem like he was perfectly fine, you’ll feel better? I don’t know the man, but I don’t think he meant wrong- he’s just lacking some social cues clearly.” He explained with a light tone as he drank some more. “You’re right… I just, I just wished he had sent me a text, or at least hugged me when he got home, perhaps apologize… but that one is stupid because he did not do anything wrong, I don’t know what I want…”

 Huffing a laugh, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me in a side hug. “Tell him that, I’ll give you a hug, if you want you can cry too, I’m already very moist anyway so, tears aren’t going to change much.” I hit his chest playfully when he said that and draped one arm over his back as I thought. “Yeah… you’re right… I miss him, I really want hold him right now, to feel him, know he’s alright, you know?-“ “Alright there, that’s a bit too much here, touch him if you will but please don’t tell me about it.” He said jokingly as he let go of me before standing up. “But now, for real, tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand, he plays stupid but he ain’t dumb.” “Right, right… yeah. Thank you so much for indulging in my little twists and sob stories.”

 “Hey, anytime. I’m always there for you, alright? Come on, take care, see you around!” He said as we bumped our fists, before jogging off.

 After that, I went back home. When I walked up the stairs, I could hear heavy footsteps inside the apartment and slowly opened the door, careful not the make noise. What greeted me was no burglar, but it actually was my boyfriend who seemed to be pacing in the living room. I knew I could not catch him off guard, so when I dropped my keys in the bowl by the entrance, he turned towards me and rushed to my side. “Are you going to leave me? He’s hot, sure- but I can do better, I swear I didn’t mean-“ “Wait wait wait, what are you on about?” I cut him off in his ramble in a confused expression.

 “The man you were with-“ “You followed me? Satoru… Privacy, just privacy, I’m asking for a tiny bit of that…” He shook his head and gripped my biceps hard, “You were with another guy! Is it because of something I did? Do you want me to be more muscular? He’s hot, yeah, but is he as strong as me-“ I cut him off once more but gripping his jaw, not too tightly, but enough to purse his lips. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Do you think so low of me? To cheat on you?” “No- no cheating, like not yet but I would understand because he’s kind of looking like a Greek god-“ I sighed and let go of him, asking him to stop talking for one second.

 And surprisingly, he did. I took that opportunity to measure my words, before speaking carefully. “Don’t stalk me, and don’t assume shit about me, that’s the first thing.” I waited for him to nod, then continued, “He’s my ex-“ “You’re going back with your ex?! For one joke- come on, that’s-“ “I’m not cheating on you, what the fuck? Why do you think so low of me? What do I look like to you? Wait, you know what?” I hit his chest, not too hard but enough to let some anger out, then once more, and again, and again until I couldn’t feel the need to do it anymore. “That one fucking joke, I hated it! You’re strong asshole, sure, sure, ok. But anything could happen out there! And you did not come back, okay?” I let out a shaky breath, making Satoru a bit confused as he took off his glasses and looked at me, lost.

 “You might not care about that promise, but it helps me a lot… and until last night, you kept it… and in my head, the only image I could think of, was your motionless body, somewhere….” I let go of his shirt and moved away from him to sit on the floor, my back sliding against the wall. “And you laughed it off… It felt humiliating, and then, you think I’m cheating on you? No, I asked my ex, my best friend, what I should do, because I was hurt… and he just gave me good advice… As a friend.” I reiterated that part, to make sure my boyfriend understood who the man I hung out with, was.

 For once, the famous Gojo Satoru was speechless and he slowly knelt down by my side. His expression had no cockiness, no pride, no joy, just pain, understanding and sorry. “I did that… I didn’t mean to, I just feel like, I have to… I wanted to make you smile, I didn’t know how, so I thought you’d laugh a bit then kiss me, I didn’t realize you were that worried… I fucked up…” He was not a man known for his great words, he also had a hard time apologizing but I could feel he was feeling bad about it, but so was I and while he was sorry, my chest still ached. “I’m sorry babe… I really hold onto that promise too, I just… I don’t know why I said that, I want to come home to you as much as I want you to come home to me safely.” He whispered as he took hold of my hand.

 Sighing I looked at our intertwined hands and tightened my grasp on his hand, his slender fingers brushing the back of my hand. “You’re strong, I know that but I can’t help it Sato… And I really want to know you’re safe-“ “How can I make you understand that I’m fine? I’m peachy, I swear, want to see my hot body-“ When he started to lift his shirt, I interrupted him, “Hug me. Just hug me, please.” My words struck confusion in him. He stared at me as he let go of the hem of his shirt, then slowly let go of my hand before bringing me close to his chest and laying down on the floor with me, not letting me go.

 It was a tight hug, not bone-crushing but perfectly tight. Warm, reassuring, loving…. I heard him whisper gentle words to my ears and brush his hands over my back as I enjoyed the moment. The ache in my chest was slowly dissipating, letting the heartwarming feeling of comfort take most of the space in it. But there was still one thing left to discuss.

 Clearing my throat, I heard my boyfriend hum curiously. “Did you really think I’d cheat on you just because he was hot?” I asked, dumbfounded. The white-haired man chuckled nervously and looked to the side, “I mean, to be fair, he’s like super hot, so you’d be in the right-“ I hit his chest, “Never! I would never cheat on you, plus you’re so much hotter, if that’s what you were worried about.” It was one of the rare times I could see a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at me, the angle making his chin look funny. But the blush quickly disappeared, “I know I am, I’m Gojo Satoru- I could probably beat him at his jog, I have a lot of stamina- and you know about that, I know how much you like what I do with my hand when you-“ “Hey, hey, it’s a cute moment, don’t ruin it. Yes, you’re cute, you’d beat him of course, hugs now.”

 He laughed and held me tight as his head hit the ground with a thud. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, I love you too much to go through that again…” I mumbled shyly against his chest. He placed a hand on the back of my head in response and kissed it gently, “I’ll try, I promise.”

 Those promises were not worth much in our line of work, but they kept me hoping and hope is what makes us live, hopefully it’ll be a long life.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x gn reader #gojo satoru x gn reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next Chapter 22: And I Oop! 🤭 Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1739

Warnings: Swearing, an over confident douchebag and Y/N and JK are major teases Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

It’s embarrassing how long this chapter took me to write  🤦‍♀️ If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊 Tagged list: @inspinkyring​ @betysotelo18​ @kardia-apo-marmelada​ @casspirit0705​ @preciouschimine​ @therealsugababe​  @lucedelsole97​ @deolly​ @lexy9716​  @thesweetest-peas​ @sannsia​ ​ ​

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

A large group of excitable females crowded one end of the bar as the man behind it took two bottles and spun it around with dramatic flare before pouring a generous amount of alcohol into a shaker. Squeals of delight erupted from the crowd as he threw a handful of ice cubes into the air and successfully caught them all behind his back. He finished off the flashy routine by placing the shaker top back on the canister and entertain his audience one final time by dancing in body rolls while he shook up his concoction.

“Who’s thirsty?” He yelled out and in an instant the females grew feral with enthusiasm as they pushed and shoved each other, trying to be the first person to gain his attention.

Y/N observed the scene from the other side of the bar as she waited for her turn to be served. A girl with fire engine red hair managed to wrestle her competitors off and secured the position at the front of the bar.  She patiently stood before him, hoping her pleading eyes was enough for him to convince him to invite her for a drink.

Y/N’s nose crinkled in distaste. While she didn’t know the red head by name (she went by the name Red), she had seen the girl around the Basement and knew enough to know she deserved better than him.  

“I’m absolutely parched.” Her tone was slow and drawn out in attempts to sound sultry.

Y/N couldn’t contain the fake gagging noise she made. In her eyes the scenario was completely cringeworthy…maybe Red did deserve him.

‘I wouldn’t be caught dead chasing a guy like BeatBox Jae.’ She thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the sound she had made was loud enough to catch Jae’s attention.

An overwhelming amount of excitement welled in his chest when he realised he had the Kim Y/N in his sights. He turned his attention back to Red and gave her the most charming smile as he could muster as he made another big show of slowly pouring out two drinks.

“Sorry, bar’s closed.” He said with no hint of remorse then picked up the drinks and made his way over to Y/N, leaving the humiliation to sink in with poor Red.

“Here.” Jae said as he set the frosty martini glass in front of Y/N “I made you a drink, Beautiful.”

Y/N scoffed in his face and pushed the drink to the side, her blatant act of rejection did not even damper his mood.

“You’re an asshole you know, right? I can’t believe you did that to her!”

Jae nonchalantly shrugged off the comment as he took a sip from his drink. He didn’t care about the feelings or problems of others…if he wanted something, he knew that as the Maknae of The Basement Boys there wasn’t much that was unattainable by him. With a face that looked like it was carved by angels and an ego that was extensively fed his adoring fans of guys and girls…Jae was a lethal combination of charisma and arrogance.

It was exactly this attitude that repelled Y/N from him. “Don’t be like, Beautiful…let me take you out on a date and show you how much I like you.” “Oh really?” Y/N leant forward so that elbows were resting on the bar and cupped her face in her hands, making sure to looked up at him from under her long lashes with a cute pout. “Tell me three things you like.”  

Y/N was never discreet about her dislike towards Jae which only made him want her more. The fact that she was now showing genuine interest, made Jae feel like he was finally getting a head in a race he was lagging in.

“That’s easy… You’re hot as hell.” He said with enthusiasm and raised his hand so he could count the reasons as he listed them off “…cute too and the most gorgeous thing in the world.” He grinned proudly to himself, feeling satisfied that he answered the question well.

“Is that all?” “You only asked for three…did you want me to say super sexy too?” His response was smug

Y/N had to force a smile to hide her grimace. Of course the only traits he favoured were those of her appearance. She knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, especially to someone like Jae but once in a while she had the unstoppable urge to remind herself that men were trash.

“Sorry I don’t date guys who fuck around while they have girlfriends.” Y/N pulled herself of the bar and broke the illusion of interest she had Jae under. Though her abrupt change of attuite was enough to give him whiplash he was able to recover quickly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Beautiful.” “That’s not how I see it.” The tension grew thick in the air as they stared each other down.

For regulars of The Basement, it was common knowledge that Jae was one to sleep around. However, with her sharp observation skills as The Shopkeeper, Y/N was able to piece together his hidden shame. From what she could piece together it seemed that only the members of The Basement Boys were aware of this convoluted secret and the matter was kept within the crew.

“Don’t be silly Beautiful.” Jae was the first to speak, breaking the tension by playfully ruffling her hair and returning back to his same jovial self “Besides if anyone has to worry about significant others it should be me…your boyfriend has been giving us death glares.” “What?” Y/N asked trying to figure out who in the world he was talking about. Nods his head in the direction behind her before revealing who he is talking about. “SeokJin’s big buff cousin over there.” she turned around spotted a Jungkook looking disgruntled standing a few people back in the line for the bar. Their eyes met briefly before he turned the other way, pretending he wasn’t watching Y/N. “That’s not my boyfriend.” she said rolling her eyes “He’s just angry because he’s a sore loser.” “Thank God.” Jae exclaims as he clutches his chest overdramatically “I thought I had competition for a second.” “You don’t have to worry about that.” Y/N reassures him with a smirk “You actually act to be in the race to have competition.” She cheekily blows him a kiss and leaves him, no longer interested in getting a drink.

Y/N was well aware of the type of person Jae was, so never in a million years would she fall victim to his charms. If anything, she found it enjoyable to shut him down.

‘That should take him down a notch.’ She thought to herself

Jungkook was still facing away from Y/N as she drew closer to passing him on her way back to the balcony, she had every intention to walk by and ignore his existence and yet she had the unstoppable desire to mess with him too. Still high off her interaction with Jae, her body moved on its own accord and before she knew it her body was crashing into his as she purposely tripped herself. As if on instinct Jungkook was quick to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask…there’s not need to trip me over” Jungkook’s eyes widen at her accusation which caused her to chuckle. His arms dropped from around her and he stepped back to create space between them “I don’t blame you though…I am pretty irresistible in my new shirt.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spat out in disgust “I don’t want anything to do with you, especially after I saw you help humiliate that red headed girl.” “Um…Sorry what?” Y/N’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he didn’t really believe she had anything to do with that? “Don’t act like you weren’t involved in that. I bet you couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once, that’s why you called that bartender over to you.” “Excuse you? I’m not sure what you saw there but you must really have your head up your ass if you think that I had anything to do with that.” “Oh pah-lease!” Jungkook’s arms were crossed defensively “You might have everyone fooled but I see you for who you are… you’re nothing more than a spoilt princess!”

‘A spoilt princess?’

That comment really struck a nerve with Y/N. She had been called many unfavourable things in her lifetime and she had never been offended because to some degree the things they said were true so it never bothered her…she felt there was no point in getting upset with the truth, she accepted every aspect of herself - whether it be good or bad. However to be called a princess and a spoilt princess at that really pushed all the wrong buttons within her.

Y/N refused to conform to her mother’s notions of the importance of beauty and the concept of using her physical attributes to have things handed to her. Y/N valued independence, intelligence and hard work…to have this stranger discredit her like that was deeply insulting to her.

“Look here you jerkfaced asshole.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she scowled up at the tall male towering above her. “Maybe if you were a better competitor, you’d be able to win once in a while and then you wouldn’t have to take your passive aggression out on me.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the grin that had taken over his face, even when Y/N was losing against him she had always managed to keep her emotions in check. This is the first time he had seen her flustered and openly frustrated…He enjoyed seeing her lose her composure.

“Whatever you say…” Jungkook closed the distance between them so that he could lean closer to her “…Princess” 

Y/N stiffened when she heard his smooth husky voice whisper in her ear, stirring an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation and delight within her. Those feelings quickly turned to repulsion when her brain had finally caught up to her and realised who she had been talking to. She let out a sound of disgust and pushed him away from her.

“Go fuck yourself, Asshole!” she spat before turning to leave him.

Jungkook watched Y/N storm off as he buzzing with satisfaction of knowing he had be the one to get under her skin for once.

#bts #Jeon Jungkook #BTS jungkook #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook x angst #enemies to loves #bts e2l #bts fake texts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x you #bts angst #bts social media au #house of cakes writes #jamais vu

[anasticklefics]

My Lower Back(’s Sensitivity) Is Killing Me

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Bones, Jim

Summary: Jim finds out Bones’ lower back is ticklish.

A/N: @fickle-tiction said: Early days at the academy, maybe they're at a bar and Jim has to sneak behind Bones and he does that gross grabbing someone's waist from behind to get by them thing, only they're friends so it's not gross, and Bones snorts and jumps away and Jim is just like “Oh??? Oh really??” and takes advantage.

Words: 723

Jim had a habit of disappearing during nights out; his body constantly seeking, seeking. Seeking what? He had no answer each time Bones asked, but Bones knew better than to stop him from making his way through a crowd much too quickly for Bones to keep up, and so he always remained where he was for when Jim decided to return. Uhura had once remarked that it must be boring to go out with him if this was the outcome, but Bones actually didn’t mind nursing his drink in semi peace until Jim showed up, giddy, tipsy, talking about a guy from a class he’d run into, or one of their professors being less than sober around dozens of students.

Bones had been standing at the bar that night when Jim had wandered off. True to his word Bones had remained where he was, leaning against the counter with his beer, watching the bartender, a man he knew on a first name basis by now, take his time preparing each drink despite the impatient drunken pleading from the people around him. He opened his mouth to make way for a joking and grumpy remark, the way the two men bonded, when a palm pressed into his lower back so suddenly and so lightly he jumped and spilled his beer, much to the bartender’s dismay.

“Ah, shit, sorry,” Jim said, back sooner than Bones would’ve thought. “I tried to call your name, but you didn’t hear.”

“The music’s fuckin’ loud,” he replied, grabbing the bottle to salvage what little liquid he could. “What did you want anyway?”

“There’s a fight outside and the cops are rapidly approaching. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be here when they arrive.”

Bones took the last swig of his beer and pushed off the counter. “Right. Let’s go.”

It was only once they were in their dorm that Jim brought it up. “So,” he said, all nonchalance, all poorly disguised mischief. “I didn’t know your lower back was ticklish.”

“What are you talking about?” But he’d said it too quickly, slightly too defensively.

Jim’s grin grew, and while Bones wasn’t afraid of much he had learned to respect that shit eating grin. “Oh, come on now.”

It was an ever present thing in their friendship that Bones was super ticklish and Jim was less so; days spent batting off prodding hands and nights spent pretending to be mad about it. But while Jim knew most of his spots moments of a sudden revelation still arose that had Bones flushing despite himself.

You’d think he’d be used to it by now.

“How many times do I have to tell you you can’t keep your spots a secret from me?” Jim was saying now, stepping closer, and even though Bones knew he would he found himself retreating slightly too quickly.

“I will kill you with my bare hands,” he replied, but the stupid smile was already fighting for a spot on his lips. “Jim, I’m warning you.”

Jim, naturally, didn’t listen, but reached out, one arm trying to snake around Bones’ body while the other went for his ribs, making him twist away out of instinct and giving Jim full access to his lower back. The sound that left his mouth was humiliating, but Jim soon drowned it out with his laugh of delight.

“I knew it!”

“Get away from me-”

“You’re so ticklish, Bones, it’s ridiculous.”

“I’m n-not- ah, no!”

It was a dance they knew well. Denial, playful teasing, Jim backing off without forcing him to admit to a thing. His laughter was enough. His perpetually flailing limbs were enough.

The fingertips digging into his flesh were unbearable. Bones hadn’t even known that spot was so bad, but he found himself giggling, his pitch rising when Jim moved to embrace him and sufficiently pinning him in his arms, elbows bent and both hands on his back. It was stupidly easy to escape and yet Bones couldn’t.

Jim’s smirk was audible when he said, “Moving into me isn’t gonna help you, you know.”

“Shut up, I fuckin’ can’t, fucking hell-”

Their laughter interlacing, Jim letting him go only once Bones had pressed his face into his shoulder. Not the first time that spot would be taken advantage of, he knew, without Jim having to say it.

#tickling #ticklish!bones #mckirk fic #mckirk #tickle fic #mine #ana's fics #my lower back(’s sensitivity) is killing me #star trek #star trek fic

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH7: Food, and a Well-Kept Secret Truth

Whumper has a name! Meet Marcus, to his subjects known as The Parent.

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: mild force feeding / infantilization. Like, Marcus will literally be treating Orian like an infant / collar mention / restraints / mild manhandling / implied minor pet whump (heavily implied, not shown at all. Minor as in age) / pet whump / dehuminazation / lab whump (minor tbh) / implied past torture / mass indoctrination of both ‘pets’ and people (mentioned) / unfair legal system

Marcus is enjoying Orian’s new personality (as far as they have one tbh), while also handling the preparations for the new stream of subjects that the government and a few private parties have supplied. This bit contains mostly some worldbuilding, set-up for some more story on Marcus’s side, and Toby’s backstory!

Marcus looked down on Orian from the side of their bed. They slept in the white training overall they’d gotten after the Rebirth, under the Project’s Rebirth certificate that hung on the wall. They twitched every now and then. Murmured, even though they weren’t supposed to be able to for months.

One of the technicians explained it was a malfunction they wouldn’t be able to fix. Supposedly it occurred just a week or two after they started the container procedure, but they couldn’t notice it until Orian woke up. He’d been tempted to strap them down and drug them until they couldn’t lift a finger anymore when they kept screaming for hours on end, but a little side effect of that malfunction meant they put so much pressure on their brain they needed almost as much sleep as an actual infant.

Almost innocent, which they’d soon be for real.

Even then it was the screaming that bothered him. They’d been in the container for nine months, there was nothing left of their muscles.

Their nursery, as the staff still called it, was a light green. Stark white floors, a rocking chair in the corner, though it would never be used. Marcus doubted he’d need it. Though Orian was small, it wouldn’t be a challenge. Orian’s bed was outfitted with barricades on the sides to keep them from rolling out. It could be rocked from side to side as well. He’d hung a light above it, which he let flicker when he needed their attention away from the window they gazed at during the day.

Marcus smiled as the twitches died out, and Orian let out a small puff in their sleep. Despite it being purple in color, now more than ever Orian’s collar marked them as a blank slate. And an opportunity. Orian was no more than a few weeks old by the Project’s calendar—which started at the Rebirth—but the ministry had been so pleased so far, they offered Marcus a deal. Orian. If he tamed them, and they stayed that way for a month in one of the ministry’s own pre-placement facilities, he got to keep them.

It was a small bonus compared to the dozen pets being evaluated and prepared as he sat there, but one he appreciated nonetheless. Toby fulfilled his role the best a pet like him could, but he needed someone who was exactly as he built them to be. Pets might learn best from their trainers, but the lessons only stuck with a good example. Toby was obedient, sure, but his personality was still his own. It got in the way.

If Toby were a fit applicant for the Project he would have done it, but he knew too much about how it worked. The implant could take care of it, but it would have to be permanent, which would mean Toby’s skills went away with it.

Toby was one of the rare pets these days to be raised as a person. Of course Marcus knew how the world really worked, pets were a matter of personality. Or chance, if they just happened to be left on the ministry’s doorstep. Pets these days were either obtained young, or born with the ministry. Toby was in his early twenties when he got into the wrong theoretical area at his university. Got too close to the ministry’s centuries old manufactured truth.

They did a decent job on him. He’d only been a pet for half a decade, but if you asked him he didn’t know any better. Too scared for defiance at the time of capture, that was the culprit. To aware of what he’d be turned into. When Marcus first read his file, when his previous owner submitted him to test the Project, he thought it was a conscious obedience at first.

The way most pets obeyed. Do what they say, so you don’t get hurt. It works well enough, but the owner plays too big a role. It only takes one to be too lenient, and one pet and all they’re in contact with can get ideas they shouldn’t have. Toby on the other hand, was very aware of his place in society. Acted accordingly, even when he didn’t have to.

Marcus played an experiment on him, after his owner died. He was first in line to take him in, since he’d been in his care for months. He had a few actors pull him from the kennel as if they were setting him free. Payed them thousands to try and break his training the way the few opposing groups still tried to do. He ran off and was found crying at the door of the last training facility he’d been in, begging to be fixed.

That’s what got him the first blue. The only reason the rest was still green was because sometimes he was a little too aware that he was unusually well-behaved for a pet. He tried to use it to his advantage with other pets every now and then. He would place himself above them, as if his collar was a status symbol pertaining to him, and not the trainers and owners that raised him to be the pet he was.

A soft rumble came from Orian’s stomach as they opened their eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Marcus asked. He’d gotten criticism on his supposed gentleness, but it only looked like that from the outside. The back of Orian’s mind was still aware they weren’t an infant, alongside the fact that they were as powerless as one.

He took out a bottle that contained a water-thin smoothie with enough vitamins and calories and the whatnot to suffice for a whole meal. Was a liter-sized baby bottle a bit over the top? Maybe, but training pets wasn’t half as fun without a little humiliation. Besides, Orian couldn’t see it anyway, and they needed to be fed somehow. They always felt it though. They’d stay still, until they felt it against their lips and pulled away with the memory.

That was implant not doing it’s job. They weren’t supposed to refuse it. They always got hungry enough eventually though. Sure, Marcus would have to stop letting them refuse it in the first place, but if the implant was malfunctioning that much, he had to ease them out of the bits of control they thought they had left. It had been weeks, so it seemed today would be eventually.

“Come on now, you don’t want to be hungry for the rest of the day, do you?” He brought the bottle to their face after they turned away. Orian kept avoiding. Rocking their head from side to side, it was a pathetic sight really—if he didn’t include the fact that it also looked a little cute—but to Orian it was all they could do. Enough was enough, though.

He waved his free hand, blocking the light from the window. It tricked them, allowing Marcus to force the bottle between their lips with the other before they noticed. He pressed down a little, so they couldn’t push it out. Orian pouted, but Marcus didn’t budge. They drank it up almost half way, before lulling back to sleep.

Marcus stroked their hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

As much as he liked watching the most defiant pet he knew sleep like a rose without the help of any sedatives at all, he had other business to attend to. He had a deal with the ministry’s department of re-training and a few private investors to put just over a dozen pets through the program, but the ministry had also given him another interesting offer.

Prevention.

Six of them. All pets that were close to coming of placement-age, or just had. Late teens, most of them. One was twenty. All of them showed signs similar to Orian’s before they peaked, even if they didn’t know it themselves.

The youngest of them could almost be measured up with Toby, but their head-trainer was concerned their obedience was too focused on consequence. They were a little too eager to please, and too disappointed if it didn’t pay off. A few years ago Marcus would have told them to place them at a residence with a… reputation, but the government had faced opposition in the past years. Placement age cut it out. No one was too happy about it, but escapes went down. Probably because pets got more time to be weakened out or trained far enough.

Except for these six, apparently. They’d been put away in the daycare as his staff interviewed the headmaster of the institute they all came from. Marcus had trained close to a dozen trainers to take on some their load. He could only be in so many places at a time. One of those six though, was a challenge he’d like to take on.

Subject Seventeen. Previously named only Theo, though at the ministry’s training facility they were planning to dub him Tyler. Eighteen years old, short file. They’d only belonged to the ministry for a week, after all.

The risk of taking in pet-smugglers to be pets themselves was a risk, but Theo was young. He was the driver at a plan to smuggle nearly two dozen escaped pets over the border. The pets got out, but the truck was easy to trace, since the kid was stupid enough to take it back. Someone high up in the government somewhere took a liking to him when they put him to trial. His luck, because he wouldn’t last a week in prison. He broke his own fingers trying to punch the Catchers that were after the pets he stole.

All it took were some government-sanctioned ‘brain scans’ and ‘blood-work’, and there it was. Misread at birth. Of course the trial wasn’t televised, but Marcus would have loved to see the look in his eyes when the judge decided he’d be shown mercy since he couldn’t know better.

Marcus strutted past the pens. Some were guest’s pets, some prospects, a few had already been accepted for evaluation. To keep his clean reputation running they got an hour in the fresh air for each six they spent there, so most of the pens were empty anyway. Seventeen was in the far back, in one of the more secure pens.

Muzzled, wearing a Rebirth-issue straitjacket and pants that strapped his legs together. A harness around his torso forced him to painlessly stay on his knees. Pain was the one thing Marcus wasn’t the greatest fan of. It thought pets to avoid punishment, rather than avoiding breaking the rules.

Seventeen leaned back with a frown when Marcus opened the pen’s door. “Oh come on now,” Marcus quieted his tone, knowing full well that Seventeen was only starting to show cracks, not breaks. He knew what he was, even if not for long. “You’ve been at this for a week and you’re this jumpy already?”

He eyed the hand trucks they used to move the subjects, but Seventeen couldn’t be sedated before evaluation, and he showed a bit too much fight for Marcus to manhandle him onto it. They had solutions for that, though. The harness that Seventeen wore was attached to a thin rail that ran through the daycare into the evaluation wing. Marcus tested the jacket to make sure Seventeen was secured, then pulled him out.

Seventeen was on the tall side, he had no problem standing. He also had no problem trying to kick him. His legs were bound together, which meant every time he tried he ended up dangling from the ceiling.

Marcus let him have at it until he was out of breath. “Are you done? We’re only going to talk.” Seventeen frowned, but didn’t kick again. At least he knew which battles he could and couldn’t win. It made him just a little bit more cooperative than he likely meant to be. “I doubt you’ve had much training, but whatever you’ve heard, this’ll be much less painful than the ministry’s methods.”

A muffled curse almost broke through the muzzle.

Marcus took the risk of standing closer. Seventeen didn’t take his chance. Good. The same rail that ran along the ceiling, also ran along the middle of the floor. Marcus leaned down and held still Seventeen’s feet as he wrapped a white bag around them, that connected to the rail. “Now let’s go, shall we?”

Pushing him forward at his back, Marcus and Seventeen entered the padded evaluation room. A chair stood in the middle, the straps dangling off.

“Now there’s options,” Marcus said. “I take you off this hook and you sit down without giving me any trouble, or you make the mistake of trying to best me, and six men will be in here to put you in an infinitely more uncomfortable position. Anything’s fine by me, as long you can speak, of course.”

That last part got his attention. Marcus untied the harness and led the subject to the chair, where he strapped down his head, and secured his limbs as far as needed.

“Now. Let’s start simple. What did your childhood bedroom look like?”

Marcus left the room with smile plastered on his face when he was done. The kid had no idea what he was doing. Answered every question in perfect honesty, so jumbled with confusion. He’d never worn a collar other than the purple one around his neck, but even without Marcus he could get on a orange or maybe even yellow on his confusion alone.

He considered running evaluation for the other five newbies as well, but his buzzer went off. Sound alarm, Orian’s room. They were screaming again, of course. He’d have to find the triggers for it. The Rebirth was simple, the transition was as smooth as it could be, but still not pleasant. After that, they knew his voice. It made it easier for them to reach the concepts of defiance and resistance. This time though, they’d been alone for an hour.

Marcus softly opened the door to their room and, sat down next to the bed. Orian’s screams had died down into sobs while he was on his way there. “Shush now,” Marcus said. “There’s no need for all this, what’s wrong?” Of course Orian wouldn’t be able to answer, but that was half the fun. The other half came when he ruffled their hair.

Orian nearly choked on a last sob, but then quieted down. Their face softened as Marcus kept running his hands over the pet’s head. “Lonely, huh?” Marcus smiled. “I guess this…” he looked around for the most effective term to use for the malfunction. Orian would be living with it for the rest of their life. “…Defect, is having some useful side effects after all.” They remembered their life before, or at least how it felt. Which meant they also remembered the severe lack in affection, just not enough to know that they didn’t use to mind.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus softly rocked the bed with his free hand. “I’ll teach you to manage them as you grow up again. I’m The Parent. That’s what I do, after all.”

Orian didn’t go back to sleep. Not surprising, given they’d had more of it than usual. Their first evaluation was in a few months, when they’d gotten enough of their function back to perform a few simple tasks and commands. Of course the implant would cause some trouble in the beginning. It might be hard for them to understand the commands. Still, a double red, or even a partial orange had to be doable. A partial yellow qualified them for placement, which meant with a partial yellow, they’d be his.

“You’re a very versatile pet, Orian. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things, for a pet.”

Tagging the Rebirth crew: @suspicious-whumping-egg @distinctlywhumpthing ​ @panic-and-chaos​ @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @whump-it @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#pet whump #whump #force feeding tw #restrained whumpee #whumper POV #lab whump #I told you it'd get weirder and darker #I was two drinks (non-alcoholic because liver disorder) away from calling it a crib #which let's be real... it is #Now there is another... aspect... to infancy and well... food... if you're concerned (or interested IDK.) IF I go into that it would be #in an extra and not a plot-related chapter #Also Theo/Seventeen/Tyler will be a recurring character #as will some others #I'm going to show Project Rebirth from the outside in a little more in Marcus's chapters #so they won't be POV characters

[soramel]

Chained to you (Part 1)

How far can people go for power? How far can you go for love? kthxreader

drabble: You tried to snuck away from your marriage by making a scandal on your own. Have you photographed with someone outside a bar that will cause enough humiliation for your parents. Not knowing the man you chose for your ploy was your fiancé himself. You thought you’ve seen enough of the real world, but being with Taehyung only unraveled so much more. genre: angst, romance, unconventional love warning: eventual smut

A/N: cross-posted from wattpad; updates are uploaded in wattpad first

Part 1 word count: 6.4k

You were having another dinner night with your parents. Silence reigns on your table and only the occasional clink of silverware against the porcelain can be heard. You were used to it. The rectangular table is too enormous for a family of three, the cold marbled floor, the empty hallways. Sometimes you wished for a smaller house because you find the generous space exhausting to stride from and to, but at suffocating times, it provides room to breathe. Like at times like this.

"Mr. Kim's son will arrive in three days. We'll have brunch with the Kims on Sunday," your father informed nonchalantly. You held in a breath as your grip tightened around your spoon. It has been a month since your parents informed you about the marriage they arranged for you.

As a conglomerate heiress, you thought you'll be exposed to a lot of choices for your partner, but as you grew older, your status only narrowed it down. And now, you're left with no choice at all.

At that, your mom started planning for the occasion while you just went on with your meal.

The idea of them meddling with such personal matters like your relationship does not sit well with you. Not that you've been into anything serious for the past two years, but heck, despite your serious disposition, you did not want to tie down yourself in a loveless marriage.

It worked for your parents, but you're not sure if it could work for you. Besides, you barely know the man. You can't even remember his face.

"Mom, dad, I think it's too early to get married. Don't you think?" you uttered. This is your nth time having your dislike laid on the table. Although compared to your past fierce protests, this one's a tamed one, hoping that they'll reconsider your feelings about it now.

Your mom dramatically said, "22 is not young, darling! I was 18 when I was engaged to your father and 19 when we got married."

Your jaw tensed, "I have a lot of things I want to do. Besides, am I not your daughter? Why do I feel like a collateral security?"

"Y/n!" your mom shouted, offended. It's true. You don't know the whole thing but you're sure there's a business partnership behind this arrangement.

Then your father spoke, "You'll end up married anyway, why not do it now? Why waste your time dating around when there's already a man matched for you?"

You've been in this conversation before and it ended up running in circles. A diplomatic approach looked hopeless.

"Love can be learned. What you need to look for in your partner are the benefits he would bring to you," your father smugly said. Turning to your mom at his statement, your mom just gave you a smile.

"Taehyung is a good man, Y/n. You'll love him," she said. You did not respond. Taehyung was a childhood friend, but now he's a stranger. Your family is close with the Kims but you barely see each other, then when college came, you heard that he went abroad for his studies.

Your mom stood up from her seat to go beside you. Placing her hand on your back, she sweetly said, "And do this for us, okay? We've been working hard for your father's presidential campaign for years. This is your chance to help. We're not asking for you to be with us on campaigns."

You wished it was just that.

#

The news of your engagement soon circulated. No articles were written about it yet, maybe it was your mom's doing. She has a strong connection with the press given that she's a famous socialite.

Regardless, the buzzing news was enough for you to receive more stares than usual in your building. You also noticed some paparazzis lingering around when you dine out or shop in your favorite designer store. The increasing attention you've gathered was enough to send you over the edge for the whole week.

To make things worse, tomorrow's the dreaded day. You'll get to meet your fiancé. An estranged childhood friend.

One shot,

then another,

and another.

"Yeah!" your friend, Sunmi, cheered. You got to escape for the night. Your parents thought you'll be sleeping over at your friend, but little did they know, you'll have your share of fun for the longest time you've jailed yourself within the four corners of your office.

"Cheers!" you smirked at Sunmi who's smiling from ear to ear as she bottomed out her shot glass. Then she hugged you, "I missed you! The last time we hung out like this was in college!" she shouted over the loud music. You're in a booth good for ten people. You were hesitant at first to join her and her friends on a night out, but you need to get out of your head for now.

"What's up with you these days?!" she asked.

You took another shot and leaned to her, realizing that she hadn't caught the news yet. "I'm getting married," you said, but it was drowned out by the new music that started to play, making the crowd in the club cheer.

"What?!" she asked, leaning to you.

"I'm getting married!"

"What the fuck?!" her eyes were wide like a bunny caught in a red light. You laughed at her reaction. Then she squealed, making you lean away from her and cover your ears. Her friends didn't mind though and went on with their own thing. "To who?! Oh my god?! Why? How?! You don't have a boyfriend!" she spluttered.

It was actually your first time to find the situation funny. All the time when you think about it, it only stresses you out, but now the whole thing sounded so silly. "I don't know! All I know is that he does not look that good," you complained, making a silly face. You're not sure about his looks but whatever. Your distaste grew towards him the moment your father forced you to marry him.

Sunmi laughed, "An arranged marriage?! Oh god. That's still a thing?!"

You let out a disappointed expression as you held in your smile.

She downed another shot and shook her head, "I won't get rich people like you. So old school."

With a deep frown, you drank another glass that she filled. Sunmi's parents work in one of your mom's companies, you met her in the university as you were in the same classes during your freshman year. Months into your friendship, that's when she knew about your family.

"I really don't like to get married yet but my parents... you know them." you complained, loud enough for her to hear. You did not notice that the two of you already created a world of your own, shutting other people out who are in the same table. They were already playing drinking games, others were dancing, but you two just went on with your conversation.

Sunmi smiled naughtily and poured you another drink, you accepted it, laughing.

"If there's a will, there's a way!"

Raising a brow at her, you crossed your leg over the other and looked up. Feeling the alcohol seep into your system. The buzzing feeling felt good.

Flailing your hand dramatically, you asked, "Great Sunmi, let's hear your advice. Help thy stupid friend."

The cheshire smile that creeped on her lips sent you giggling. "You're not drunk enough. I'll tell you later."

After accepting another shot from her, she took your hand and led you to the dance floor. You were both laughing over nothing while you just swayed your hips to the music.

"Eyyy!!!" you howled at the drop of the familiar song playing. Not minding the bodies brushing against you, you enjoyed your time with your friend. At the end of the song, she dragged you back to the booth and grabbed a tequila bottle from one of her friends. They all cheered when she hoisted it up to you.

"Open your mouth!" she commanded.

You don't drink well straight from the bottle, so you shook your head no. But they egged on. Sunmi laughed, "Come on," then she pushed your shoulder down, "Kneel, bitch!"

The lot roared. You hated it but since your group is starting to get attention, you followed Sunmi to get it over with. With knees on the dirty floor, you opened your mouth as she poured the tequila down your throat.

"One!" they started counting.

"Two!"

"Three!'' That's when you tapped out. Closing your eyes, you gulped it down. You know you're out of it because the alcohol tastes good without the chaser.

This is going to be a good night, you thought.

You're now dancing with Sunmi and her friends. They all said their names as they made small talks, but you were too high to remember them. You twirled as you danced with the music, then at the corner of your eyes, you saw a familiar man. One of the paparazzis who's been following you nonstop. You recognized him because he's not one of those who hides behind the bush. He would casually be in the place where you're in and take pictures.

You felt disgusted. Your whole mood dampened. Your mom can do something about it if ever articles would be released, but you did not want to be scolded over simple stuff like this.

Sunmi noticed the shift in your mood, so she asked, "Hey! What's wrong?"

You stood up straight, getting ready to leave when she stopped you. "Y/n! What's up?"

You sighed, then with a frown, you said, "Saw a paparazzi, he's watching me. I gotta go."

Her mouth formed an "o" before a bright stupid idea popped in her mind. She dragged you back to your booth, urging you to sit down.

"I'm not in the mood anymore, Sunmi!" you whined, you became a bit emotional as you felt tears springing up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't be upset. This is a good thing," she cooed.

"How is that a good thing?! Do you know how the news of my engagement has been buzzing around for days now? People are following me, watching my every move as if... the point is, I didn't sign up for this! I didn't ask for this!"

She patted your back as you rant, then she said, "You can break up your engagement, you know?"

You glared at her for making it sound so simple, "It's not that easy, Sunmi!" you felt hurt. Didn't she realize how pliant you are to your parents' command when they started insisting things on you? Especially when they're mad?

"It is! You're an adult now, you're a lady boss! You can do anything you want."

You huffed. This is going nowhere, your thoughts are fuzzy, the glaring lights and the loud music are not helping.

She tsk-ed when you lied down the couch. You're truly wasted. "I know a way to stop everything. And your chance is that paparazzi," she said as she pulled you up. Scrunching your eyebrows, you asked, "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a naughty one, before letting you in on her plan.

You both surveyed the bar and the dancefloor from where you're sitting at, but no one seems to be the right man for your ploy. In your sober state, you wouldn't agree with your devil of a friend, but you're lost as fuck and besides you like the idea.

"There." Sunmi pointed out a guy who's drinking alone at the bar. You took a swig of a drink you didn't know before strutting heads on to the man she pointed out. He does not look so bad.

Halfway through your stride, you ran your fingers through your hair. You smirked when you realized that you're really doing this.

His doe eyes are adorable, he has a small face and he's tall. He looks serious as he stares at his drink. Then as if he saw you on the corner of his eyes, he looked up and met your gaze.

You look sultry at that moment. You did not let go of his gaze as you approached him. However, the admiration that flashed in his eyes almost sent you back. You averted your gaze, he saw you coming. So instead of going with your initial plan, you just sat two seats away from him and ordered a drink as an excuse.

That flicker of emotion was familiar to you. You see it in parties you rarely attend with your parents. Men who knew who you are and their intention of having a too personal business relationship with you.

Wrong man. You send Sunmi a look as you wait for your drink. She just rolled her eyes back at you.

It's not the time to be picky, but you want to be safe. You're looking for someone who you can invite to take you out then drop them once a picture of you were taken. This one looks difficult to brush off. Scanning the crowd, you eye for your next target. You looked up at the second floor but it's too dark to see faces.

"Hey," the man you were eyeing earlier moved to the seat beside yours. You sent him a disinterested smile, not uttering a reply. You sigh in your thoughts as you find no one good enough for your ploy.

Trying one more time, he licked his lips before saying, "Not having fun here?"

The bartender slid you your drink, you took a sip while thinking whether you should reply or not. Then your attention caught a man who emerged from a staircase. His hair was covering his eyes, but you could tell that he's hot. His aura is something. You watched him intently as he headed towards the bar. To you. You smiled at the coincidence.

Thoughts fogged with your friend, the flowing booze, the music, the blaring lights, different scents of sin, the hazy atmosphere that made you high, your stress, the fucking paparazzi, your traditional parents...

Fuck it.

His stance screams dominance.

He stopped for no one until he reached you. No words were spoken as he claimed your waist, pulling your body against him. You saw him smirk and with dazed eyes you glanced up at him.

Finally, a fuccboi who won't bat an eyelash as you asked him out. A perfect pawn for your plan but everything took a different turn when his lips met yours. "Sure, I'm yours for the night," he answered, his voice deep, before diving in for another kiss. His hands gripping your ass.

He held you tight by his side as you walked out of that damned place. He rained kisses on your collarbone and shoulder while you wait for his car, not giving a damn to those who were staring. You were in just for a picture but his touch and kisses sparks fire that you never felt before.

#

Throat-parched, you woke up in tangled sheets. Your head is pounding and your body's sore. Realizing that you're naked under the sheets, you jolted awake, making you clutch your head as you suffer from a hangover.

Well, fuck. What happened last night? you asked yourself. Crumpling the sheets to your naked chest while you lean on the headboard.

The man beside you stirred at the sudden movement. He's laying on his stomach as he turned his head to face you. Your eyes widened when his eyes met yours. He's beautiful, alright. Blush crept up your cheeks at his wicked smile and he did this weird thing moving his jaw as if chewing something before brushing up his tongue on his upper lip, taking in your presence. He let out a low chuckle at your expression while you're busy putting a name on the man's face. But fuck, you can't remember.

He dragged you down by your waist and nuzzled on your neck, watching his muscles flex in the process. "Thought you'll be gone by the morning," he muttered with his bedroom voice. Is that his way of asking you to leave? You wondered, irritated by his remark.

You were thinking of a smart comeback when your phone rang inside your purse. It was placed on the bedside table together with your last night's dress which was neatly folded along with your lace undies. Much to your surprise.

Dad calling...

Your breathing hitched as you glanced at the time. It says 8 am. You sent a knowing glance to the man beside you, but he just reciprocated your telepathy with a chuckle. You answered the call nonetheless.

"Dad," you started, your voice calculating as you steady your breathing.

"Are you on your way back? The Kims will be here at ten," he said straightforwardly. Your eyes widened in shock. You cleared your throat before replying in a rush, "Yes, yes. I'm on my way from Sunmi. Will be there in time."

You dropped the call right away, not waiting for your father to respond. Wincing, you swung your legs out of the bed and gathered your clothing and slipped in your underwear.

"Now, you're leaving?" the man asked as you clasp your bra back. His tone teasing. You looked back and saw him enjoying your frantic escape. Your forehead scrunched in annoyance before raising a brow at him, "I didn't know if I had fun last night. But regardless, this won't happen again," you retaliated.

His face turned sour at your statement. You hurriedly slipped in your dress and gathered your purse, not minding where the heck your jewelry was. Leaving his apartment in a haste, you failed to see his knowing smile.

#

Memories of last night started flooding back. It was just bit and pieces, but those memories made it clear that you had sex with him. You just wished your memories weren't trustworthy enough but the pain between your legs only confirmed it.

You feel hot all over. You bit your lip at the images that spilled in your mind.

The way he pinned you on the wall right after he opened his door. The way he nipped on your neck, your chest, stomach, and even the inside of your thighs. His feverish touch. Everything felt so sensual.

Your heart beat rapidly as the memories became more vivid. The way he looked at you, his eyes darkened with desire. His low moans and grunts. His silence as he rammed into you, intently watching the little changes in your expression as he thrust deeper.

Time flew fast that now you realized you're in front of the mirror, all dressed and freshened up for the first meeting with your in-laws and fiancé. You still feel like floating due to your hangover and your head aches like hell but that was not enough to bar you from feeling all these emotions. Of helplessness, loneliness, hatred. You browsed your phone to see any news from last night, but you found nothing.

Sunmi told you that she'll make sure you'll get photographed by the paparazzi. Maybe you were too drunk to follow through and were deeply engaged with your last night's companion. You sent a text to your friend,

Was I caught last night?

"Honey, are you ready?" your mom asked from the other side of the door. You didn't notice her knocking.

You sighed as you placed your phone on the charging pad. "Yeah, I'll be out in a bit," you said loud enough for her to hear.

"We'll be at the patio. Don't take too long, okay?"

Should I tell them I have a boyfriend? As you walk downstairs with heavy steps, you were formulating your escape plans but all of them required courage to put shame on your parents in front of the Kims. You're too much of a darling to do that in your sober state.

The least thing you could do is bail your time. However, you doubt if that will work.

The weather outside is nice. It's sunny but not too hot. You saw three house staffs lined outside as they served the elders of their brunch. There was another man sitting on the round table, his back facing yours, you assumed that's Taehyung, your fiancé. A cantilever umbrella was placed against the sun. You encountered some staff walking to and from your kitchen to bring more dishes outside.

When you approached the table, only one seat was left vacant, which was beside your fiancé, his back facing yours. You bowed and greeted everyone good morning, followed by an apology for being late. Mrs. Kim brushed it off, smiling at you, "We just arrived, Y/n. Don't fret."

You reciprocated her warm greeting with a smile. Your father cleared his throat as he told you to take your seat. You did not even bother to look at the man beside you as you felt your hate grow.

The awkward silence was broken when Mr. Kim's son spoke, "How are you feeling, Y/n?" The familiarity of his voice made you snap your gaze at him.

Shock is an understatement. If your eyes could bulge out of its sockets, it already did. The man that you had a one-night stand with is now sitting at an arm's length away from you with a smug smile on his face. You blinked twice. Thrice.

"F-fine. I'm fine. Thanks for asking," you stuttered. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure. You didn't know Taehyung looks this good. You barely remember him from your childhood. You didn't meet him during your teenage years since you weren't really fond of the parties that your parents attend. The time you went with them was only a handful and every time you'll go, Taehyung wasn't there, only his parents. Until you heard of the news that he moved overseas for his studies. You can only care less for you were never interested in him. Until now.

You wonder if you should pretend that you don't know him. Well you really don't. You know him by his name, yes. You weren't even able to recognize him last night. Were you that drunk to fail in putting two and two together? Did he even say his name?

Mr. Kim then said, "I see you haven't forgotten each other. That's a relief."

Your gaze turned to the old man, giving him an awkward smile, while your mother eyes you suspiciously.

The brunch started with a casual talk. Most of the time, it was your parents asking Taehyung about the time he spent abroad. It has been seven years. He would go back here for short vacations but most of his free time was spent for internships. You learned that he's a very career-oriented man. Or that's the picture he's painting. You'll never know.

You were just silent for the whole thing, barely touching your food because you don't have the appetite. You enjoyed the coffee though, as strange as it is. When the fruits arrived, that was the only time you were able to eat properly. The sweetness of the honeydew was refreshing to your system.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung smiled at your actions. You were indeed wasted last night, he realized.

"Y/n, I heard you started working for your airline company. How is it?" Mr. Kim asked, pulling you out of your headspace.

They looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, including Taehyung. "I'm having fun so far. It's only been six months, but I feel like I've learned a lot," you replied, "Yet, not quite everything," your tone even and casual.

"I actually worked with Y/n before when she was still in Waldorf. We handled their security systems," Mrs. Kim recalled fondly before adding, "Which one do you like more, Y/n?" she asked, making you choose between the airline company and the hotel line you've handled so far.

With a tight-lipped smile, you said, "I grew to be fond of both, Mrs. Kim."

She nodded knowingly, satisfied at your answer. Your hotels are situated near airports all over the world, it's not one of those who caters for tourists in the middle of the city. Though independent from the airline, the two businesses work together symbiotically. Then Mr. Kim asked, "Have you thought of studying abroad, Y/n? It might help with your work. You and Taehyung could have studied in the same university together."

"I had my MBA degree here, Mr. Kim. The curriculum is at par with others, so it was alright. I preferred to study here so I could also come to work."

Your mom then interjected, chuckling softly, "You know how workaholic she is. I'm thankful she's more interested in the corporate world than life in politics."

Her remark sent your dad laughing, "She'd be a darling to my constituents for sure. But I doubt she'll fit right in. You know how my world is." His statement earned a chuckle from the Kims except for Taehyung who just smiled.

Aside from the occasional charity work that you do with your mom for your dad's sake, he never actively made you involved with his activities. He was a city mayor during your childhood years then moved to the national assembly. You were more popular in his world as a cute girl who's tagging along and now, you're well known for being a socialite after your mother, given your family's status.

The chatter died down when phones buzzed. You left yours in your room so you couldn't check for yourself what's happening. The elders took their phones out and seemed to be browsing their phone down.

You and Taehyung just looked at each other out of curiosity.

"Y/n,"

"Son,"

Your fathers uttered at the same time. A stern look was plastered on your dad's face but he's not angry. However, that expression is familiar to you. That's when he tries to see what's beyond the person he's talking to.

Contrary to the reaction of your parents and Mr. Kim, Mrs. Kim gushed at the two of you. "You brats! You're seeing each other behind our back?" she squealed.

Your mom let out an uncomfortable laugh, "I'm sorry, I haven't seen this one coming. Should I have the article pulled out?" she said, turning to your father, her face etched with worry.

Taehyung's face is blank. You figured he also had no idea, but you caught on. Maybe it's your picture last night. Your hands gripped tightly onto your seat.

What have you gotten yourself into, Y/n? you scolded yourself. If you only knew who he was. Wait, does he know who you are when he approached you last night?

You sent him a glare at your realization. This jerk.

Your father turned to your mother and said, "It's alright, have their engagement announced as early as possible," then he turned to the Kims, "I hope that's alright with you."

The move infuriated you. The fact that your father did not even ask if it's alright with you, you were the one who's getting married, not them!

Finally, Taehyung spoke, "May I ask what this is all about, sir?" he asked. His tone is careful.

Your father sighed then answered, "It's a picture of the two of you last night, outside a club. Not a good publicity but the article was decent enough to declare that you're dating. Which reminds me..." he then turned to you and asked, "I thought you were at your friend's last night?"

Shit.

"Ah," Taehyung muttered. He looked at you as he answered for your sake and his, but the playful smile on his lips should have told you he meant nothing good. "I met Y/n the day I arrived in the country. I'm sorry if we hid it from you, we wanted to get to know each other on our own before the engagement. I fetched her last night from her friend's party. That's all."

Great. Almost good Taehyung. Fuck, you should've kept your mouth shut. You were murdering him with your glare when your father's eyebrows furrowed further that you couldn't count the wrinkles on his forehead.

The situation didn't help you from escaping your doomed marriage, if only, it tied you down more. Unfortunately, your father was too smart to not take advantage of the situation, uncaring what it might look like to the people on the table. With a raised brow, he declared, "Y/n just got home this morning, so you were with her the whole time?"

Your mother and Mrs. Kim's shocked faces made your face blush, while Mr. Kim just cleared his throat as he glanced at his son. You couldn't read his expression. So, before Taehyung denies it and turn the situation against you, you answered, "Yes, I was with him."

Days ago, you couldn't even imagine that you will be driving the nail deeper on the veil. Now, you totally screwed yourself over.

Taehyung didn't protest. Instead, he held your hand in his. A satisfied smirk plastered on his face as you force your hand out of his grip, "We can announce the engagement as soon as possible. That, I agree with, sir."

#

Articles were soon released about your rumored engagement. It was your mom's doing, she was the one who's been holding the news off for the week and she just had it released right after your dating scandal that she failed to monitor. Interestingly, people bought it.

"So, when are we having the wedding?" Mrs. Kim enthusiastically asked that day after everyone calmed down. She was looking at you expectantly, but you just returned her look not really knowing what to say. It's not that you have agreed to the arrangement.

Your mom answered for you, "With the situation at hand, I advise it's better if we skip the engagement party. Have their wedding by the end of the month."

"Mom," you called out, protest is evident in your voice at the sudden speed of things. Your heart's beating fast. You don't want this.

In all honesty, you have an idea that this is all for business purposes, but it also looks like a publicity stunt and show of power of your father given that he'll be running for presidency. Your father is famous alright, but the limited campaign period before elections is short that publicizing your wedding months before would help boost your father's image without it counting as a "campaign". Basically, your marriage would hit two stones for him, power and popularity.

You cried that night. Being married off to a man you barely spent time with, horrible images flashed in your head, picturing how miserable your life would be. You missed a lot of calls from Sunmi, but you were nursing your own pain that you didn't want to talk to anyone.

After sending her a text saying that you're fine, you turned your phone off. You've been receiving calls and messages the whole afternoon. Some were asking about the truth behind the scandal while some are sending their congratulations.

You woke up the next morning hearing that Taehyung is in your father's study. Angered at how you're being cornered and not even giving you time to think over it, you hated them for treating you like a thing. You stormed into your father's office downstairs, still in your silk pajamas.

They seemed to be in a deep conversation at that moment. Both heads turned towards your sudden arrival.

"I'm not getting married," you declared without further ado.

Taehyung witnessed your banter with your father so early in the morning. You tried so hard not to shed a single tear, but the gravity of the situation stressed you out more than anything. All the while he just looked out the window and averted his gaze when your emotions started getting the better of you.

"Stop controlling my life for once! I did everything you asked and expected me to do! I can handle your empire without a man!" you argued after a heated exchange with your father.

But that just went through his ears. Then he ended up saying things he didn't truly mean. Hurting you.

"You can't secure your power alone, Y/n. Still, you're a woman."

Your mouth fell agape. You never heard of that word before as an insult but the way your father said it started a wildfire within you.

"Your excuses are bullshit. You need me, a woman, to secure your own power. You know that," you spat. Heaving with rage, you drew your last straw as you said with fire in your eyes, "You're not using this woman. She's leaving."

"Y/n!" your father's voice boomed 'til the empty hallways, startling everyone except you.

You walked back to your room and quickly got dressed. You gathered some clothes and some important things, stuffing everything in your leather duffle bag. This was your last resort, but you have no choice but to drive down this path.

Slamming your bedroom door open to get out of your own hell, your brows furrowed at the sight of three bodyguards blocking your way. They didn't utter a single word.

When you ignored them and tried to push your way out, they stood like steel, holding out their arms to stop you from leaving.

"Get your hands off me!" you shouted.

But they didn't listen.

"Hands off," Taehyung ordered.

The men backed down then you went on your way only for Taehyung to block you.

"Don't touch me," you spat under your breath. Taehyung sighed, "Your father won't allow you to leave."

Snapping, you told him, "I can leave anytime I want."

He wet his lips before looking at you sincerely, "I'll help you."

You didn't believe him. For all you know, he's into this thing witnessing how he just stayed silent while you were arguing your way out earlier.

However, four more men filed in your hallway.

"Y/n's leaving with me, there's no need to stop her." Taehyung said out loud, still holding your gaze.

They obediently cleared a path for you. Taehyung walked off first with you and your leather duffle bag in tow.

He did not throw you a glance to see whether you are complying or not. He walked straight out of the mansion then you saw a Benz parked right in the driveway. He opened the door for you to get in.

You watched him walk to the driver side, still contemplating whether you should go with him. Not that you have much of a choice as the guards were watching your every move. They're all held by the main door. You couldn't remember the last time when you saw this much of security. It's a sudden change in the mansion. It's affirmative they're from the Kims.

After both of you were settled in, Taehyung silently drove off, smoothly passing through the gate.

Down the winding hill, he asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"You can drop me off anywhere. I can handle myself," you coldly said, eyes planted on the road ahead. Taehyung didn't respond and continued to drive.

Several minutes after, you saw a bus stop. "That bus stop will do," you told him.

There's a good chance that he won't truly be of help to your escape. You know that, but still you tried.

And you were right. He drove past the stop you pointed and sped up the highway.

You turned to him, scowling, your faint hope was put in vain though you did not expect any better from him.

"There's a cabin out of the city. You can stay there," he muttered, not minding the dislike shown on your face.

He made some calls after a while. Something about getting a place ready for use. From the conversation, you made out that the place he offered belongs to his family.

A lot of things were running in your mind but then you realized that there's no use to be torn between wanting to compromise with your parents versus running away from it all. You turned to Taehyung when he pulled off. He set the car into a park by the side of the road with fields after your sight. You failed to realize that you were out of the city or maybe he's just a fast driver.

"Y/n," Taehyung started.

"We can have divorce after your father's term," he said.

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Five years is a long time, Taehyung. Forgive me but I'm really curious as to what you will get out of this. What did he promise you?"

"Merger of few companies, an exclusive contract in my tech company, your hand," he told you with full honesty. It's flattering that you are part of a negotiation which involves millions of dollars and maybe displacement of hundreds if not thousands of employees. Not.

"Five years is not a long time, Y/n. Think of it as getting another degree in college," he followed through.

"I accomplished three degrees in five years. Another degree won't take that long," you retorted.

Then you asked, out of curiosity, "And what will happen to the merger after we divorce?"

"I'll give you your shares, enough to have controlling interest. If you want more, we can negotiate that."

You laughed at the insanity, "You think that's easy? You believe our parents will allow that? And having a divorce is a disgrace, Taehyung. Once we get into this, there's no turning back. You know that." Because that's how it works in your world. And you hated it.

He smirked at you, then smugly said, "You underestimate me too much, Y/n. I'm not pliant to my parents' commands."

Good for him.

God, his arrogance is starting to get into my nerves, you thought.

"And if you want, let's not get divorced at all. I'll be that generous to allow you to keep your honor."

"Hah!" you let out in disbelief. Is the air different in the States for it to send his head in such disarray? Your jaw twitched in irritation.

"You see, Taehyung-" your speech was cut off when he started driving back to the road. "Hey!" you shouted, offended at his rudeness. He glanced at you and said, "It's not safe. I just had to talk down your wild thoughts a bit before you jump off the car out of desperation. You may continue. As you were saying?"

If looks could kill, this car already spun off the road.

"Go on," he egged on. You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn't see.

"I'm not getting anything out of this. Do you think I care about the money?" you calmly said, getting into your corporate demeanor as you see that this is more of a professional relationship for him.

"Aren't you a businesswoman, Y/n?" he retaliated.

With your head held high, you replied smugly, "I don't chase money, Taehyung. I make money chase me."

"And I don't give a damn about power. I highly value respect," you added.

Your head snapped at him when you heard him scoff. He was shaking his head in amusement, but you took it as a sign of ridicule.

"I understand, but being with me will not only solidify your power, Y/n. You can have everything you want. Money will chase you and respect will be given accordingly if we do this right," he simply said.

#kim taehyung #kimtaehyung #fanfic #bts fanfic #warning #yandere x y/n

[megastarstriker]

✰𝙃𝙄𝘿𝙀 𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔✰

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

{ℕ𝕀𝕂𝕂𝕀 𝕊𝕀𝕏𝕏 x ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝔼ℝ}

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𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: Cussing and Drugs

Contains: FLUFF AND ANGST

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Nikki Sixx x Female Reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩:

𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙: by @metalheartofgold {Hey sweetie, I was so happy when I saw your request were open because I love your writing so much 🥺 So I wanted to request a Nikki Sixx one shot (Mötley Crüe) where he is protective off reader during a party in the Motley house. He knows reader's body has negative reactions to drugs, due to a condition reader had since she was a child, so when someone tried to force reader to take drugs, Nikki stood up for reader. (reader is his gf). Can you make it fluff and angsty? Please don't rush yourself,take your time and publish it whenever you want. I know us writers still have a life outside writing.thank you so much 🖤}

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @metalheartofgold, @ginny-rose-sixx, @xxqueencolourxx​, @littlemisscare-all​,

💕 LOVE YOU GUYS AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA GET TAGGED  💕

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★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒── ★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒── ★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒──  ★

MÖTLEY HOUSE , 1981

“Wow.....” 

I whispered lowly as I looked at the whole crazy and wild chaos that was going on around me. 

Sitting in the sofa I couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable and out of place as I watched everyone having fun, as I held a drink of whiskey in my hand that was not entirely full as I wasn’t planning to get wasted unlike the others who were at the moment shitfaced from the booze they had. People from one side drinking or entering the apartment by the shattered window next to the door  that gave anyone entrance to join the party inside and that was still left unfixed from prior incidents and on the other there was people making out or sniffing drugs that were neatly formed into lines with a straw or just doing a bountiful amount of outrageous and animalistic things altogether in a crowd. 

I slumped even deeper into the sofa as I saw someone puke right near me on the floor causing me to cringe a bit in disgust and worrying concern for the person that did. Scooting away I held the drink that had a bit tighter, obviously uneasy about what could go wrong right about now. Don’t get me wrong I was used to this kind of thing mainly because my boyfriend was the one that held these types of parties along with his bandmates, Vince and Tommy. For Mick though not so much as he was no were to be seen along with the other two who were  both probably doing there ‘normal crazy stuff’ as usual....

There was a bunch of girls who were doing drugs along with some guy that was currently staring at me, obviously interested in me. I simply of course shrugged it off and decided to pay attention to something else. I then saw my boyfriend, in the middle of the room, Jet black dyed hair, gorgeous green hues, a perfect yet devilish and sexy smile that adorned his handsome features that any woman or groupie would fall for, a well defined and muscular body that accompanied with his various sexy looking tattoos, that man was Nikki...

‘Nikki and I have been dating for quite awhile, after his previous bands that went to waste.  He has also dated a few other girls before me and when we were still just friends. It surprised me how we were even a couple to begin with, even more when he asked me out. 

We had things in common, like our love for rock’ n’ roll and other likes and dislikes as well, but different in our own ways. I was there to support him in every way I could of course when he told me about wanting to become a rock star... 

 I knew Nikki was into drugs and was overall a wild rock star when it came to the parties and such, but he could also be his loving self when we were both alone and told me everything because he trusted me and loved me in his own way when he tried his hardest to show it.......

But I on the other hand couldn’t because of my condition I had since at a very young age....

 On our first date, I had let him known about my condition and the fact I couldn’t take drugs, which took me awhile to even talk about as I felt very insecure if he would actually judge and leave me because of my negative reactions to them if I took any drugs that weren’t good for me (those reactions could result dangerous for my body system and mind if I did happen to have them) considering many of my previous ex’s did when I brought it up to them, causing them to abandon me without any remorse for it....

He shockingly of course didn’t and respected me when I told him about it, quietly listening to me. But even now as he kept telling me that it didn’t matter if I had a condition or not that he still loved me, I couldn’t help but feel doubt and insecure about myself...and what he said to me....really didn’t help with the anxiety I had as negative thoughts started to flood my mind leaving me a bit depressed...even hating myself for the way I turned out to be.....as I watched him.’

Nikki was currently drinking a bottle of whiskey while also checking in on me every once in a while to see how I was doing, I never understood why he would considering I new how to take care of myself against anyone that tried to harm me or offer me drugs, but he was damn well stubborn and protective off me enough to not take my answer and leave, but he also respected my space and that I really appreciated from him. 

He gave me a warm smile as his gorgeous green eyes met mine, I smiled in return to let him know I was fine, as he kept talking to the guy in front of him. Smiling and feeling a warm feeling in my chest as I did, I felt the weight of the sofa shift as someone sat right next to me and damn right- It was the guy who was doing drugs from earlier, currently eyeing me up and down, holding a small tray of drugs with two straws. 

“Hey there babes wanna do a bump with me?”, He flirted as he held the small tray towards me. “Um, No thanks. I’m good.”, I said as I hesitated the offer ,my smile turning smaller each second I would stare at this guy next to me, but kept myself firm and cautious of the situation. 

“C’mon, hun. Don’t be such a party shitter come have a little taste of this.”, The man said obviously very insistent as much as I declined.  I d-don’t want any can you please stop bothering!”, I confidently said as I put up a brave front telling the guy to go fuck off, but then I was interrupted as he gripped at my hand tightly catching me by surprise and wince in pain at the tight hold he had on it.  “Let me go you asshole!”, I said as I stepped on his feet with force only for him to slap me across the face, my cheek burning red and stinging from the impact it gave me.

“ You bitch, if you’re not gonna take any of this. Then why even bother be here. You’re just another goddamn lame ass whor-”, He said as he spat those words at me like dripping venom, I couldn’t help but cry my cheeks staining as my mascara also mixed with the salty tears that flew and traveled down my chin and unto the dirty stained floor on the ground. 

‘What if he is right?’ If I’m just another fling to Nikki. Another one-night stand that luckily got to be with him longer than the other chicks he had banged. ‘What if he is just using me? And he actually thinks I’m a useless, miserable, pathetic girl.’ I thought with a heartbreak as I sobbed silently the tears and sadness increasing more with each thought, as I choked on my cries. ‘No I can’t think like that. I know Nikki. He is an asshole but he wouldn’t hurt me like that or in any way. Right?’

I then saw Nikki walk towards us both as he punched the guy square in the jaw ,at the same time he said those hurtful words, with full force as his face was contorted in rage and anger,” Hey! Get your hands off my girl, Asshole. If she said she doesn’t want any then get your ass up and leave.”

The guy of course wasn’t a coward but stupid enough to pick a fight with someone like Nikki,” What did you say to me, jackass-” The guy then got pushed onto the wall.

“Listen to me, dickhead. You either leave her the fuck alone and show some respect or get the fuck out.”, He said as he looked at him dead in the eye his green eyes cutting through his entire soul, as he gripped his shirt like claws prying at his neck with a dead glare. “Fuck you guys! I’m out of your lame ass game-”, He yelled at him pushing Nikki off of him, as he stumbled his way out of the scene, everyone around us was quiet, either whispering stuff, or looking at us in shock at what just happened right in front of them. ”That’s it.” Nikki then shove him away forcefully as he kneed him on his groin causing him to crouch in pain, only for then to grip him by the shoulders and push him towards the door and outside of the house, causing him to fall.” And I better not see your ass here ever again, motherfucker!”, He then closed the broken door as he said that not caring at all whether it fell apart or not.

I, of course propped myself up from the floor still crying from earlier, as Nikki looked at me his eyes turning soft with concern as he heavily breathed. Not wanting to say anything and feeling humiliated, embarrassed, even ashamed I quickly got up and left the living room, wanting to be alone and away from everyone’s judgmental view. I then went into mine and Nikki’s shared bedroom, seeing that it was unoccupied and that the bathrooms were being used at the moment for private reasons. I then made sure to close it as I sunk to the bed crying as I let every teardrop out of my eyes that I have been holding in for so long. ‘Why?’ I thought as I broke into sobs gripping at the bed with anger ‘Why me?’ ‘Why did Nikki pick me?’. 

As these thoughts flooded into my I couldn’t help but look down at myself for being this way, for letting my sad emotions get the better of me and not fighting them off. For not being strong, but weak. 

All I wanted to do was just curl in a ball, and hide away from everyone....

From the band.... 

Vince, Tommy, Mick...

From the world....

And From Nikki....

I then heard a strong knock at the door only for then to hear a voice,” (Y/N) its me, open the door.”, Nikki said as he knocked his voice reaching my ears. “Go away, I wanna be alone.”, I said in between breaths as I cried. “I’m not leaving you, Damnit!”, He responded only for him to re-correct his speech knowing it wasn’t going to help if he acted that way as he muttered a little ‘shit’ at his choice of words before talking again this time in a much softer tone as he leaned against the door,” Please....just let me in.”

It took me a few moments before I could muster the courage to open the door, as I opened it I saw Nikki standing at the doorway only for him to wrap  his two strong arms around me, in a strong and comforting embrace. Startled, I then relaxed as it was only Nikki and not the asshole from earlier. I then cried into his chest letting every tear fall. 

“Shit...I’m sorry, babe.” Nikki muttered into my hair softly as he rubbed soft circles around my back, trying to ease my breathing,” Don’t worry that crazy fucker isn’t coming back any time soon and I’ll sure as hell make sure of it.” Hearing this from him made me relax a bit but not entirely as I still had that thought in my mind. 

“Nikki...”, I whispered quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, baby?”, He responded as he gave me his full attention and held me and separated me away from his chest but close enough so that he could still have me in his arms. 

“Why me?”, I asked him sniffing a bit at my stuffed nose that was red and a bit stuffy at the moment from all of the crying I did. 

“Hmm?”, He asked obviously confused as to what I meant by that.

“Why did you pick me?”, I said again in frustration as tears flooded into my eyes yet  again, “You could’ve picked any other girl to love or use and leave me behind. You didn’t have to deal with a girl like me. You could’ve dated someone who was good enough to have the same life as you do. So why-”

I then was cut off as Nikki’s soft and rose colored lips met and connected with  mine softly in a passionate kiss, not filled with lust but with love. I closed my eyes as I tasted the Whiskey on his lips  A few seconds, later he let his lips disconnect from mine gently, as he then looked  at me right in the eyes. 

“Because I fucking care... about you, I don’t give a damn or a single fuck about what people think or say about you, me, or us. If any asshole has a problem with that they can either suck someone’s dick and kiss my ass for all I care. I know I’m not one to say corny and lovey-dovey shit like this, but...If you really wanna know why you instead of some other groupie or whore then.. fine.”

“You are ....someone important to me, and I ....don’t care whether you can do drugs and bumps or not. No person in this ...entire world can compare to you. Because you are someone that actually cared for me and for once has supported me when no asshole could for all my fucking life. Whatever that guy said to you was complete bullshit. You aren’t some one time thing for me and you will never be....”

 He said as he gripped my face softly as he let his forehead gently touch mine as his eyes gazed lovingly in mine, letting out a few curses every one in awhile when he tried to tell me what he truly felt about me, knowing it was pretty difficult and torturing at him to even say as he broke his hard walls and cold front. This was the real Nikki.....

the man behind the stage.... the guy without the harsh exterior.... This was him....

My Nikki....

I smiled at him as my tears turn to happy ones, knowing what he said was truly genuine. I was shocked the first time he showed me his true soft and loving side, but seeing it now it didn’t really faze, rather make me want to love him more and further. 

I pulled his face down for another kiss, his warm and tender lips meeting mine as we both lingered in the moment. We then let our lips depart as he hugged me tighter. He then pulled me to the bed, taking of his shirt to reveal and expose his muscular and toned, body along with his attractive tattoos that grazed and covered his skin and body. His long and strong arms pulled me to his chest as he peppered my forehead with small yet feathery kisses. Sniffing, I felt a warm feeling in my chest as I looked up at Nikki smiling a bit and having a funny idea a bit as the silence in the spacious room started to grow....

“Hey Nik.?”, 

“Yeah?”, He asked softly as he propped his arm to rest and lean his head next to mine and face me as I saw his bright hues met mine, despite the darkness in the room and his messed up, soft and poofy crazed hair that was sprawled around a bit at his eyes, covering them slightly. 

Laying down still looking at the ceiling in deep thought I felt a smile creep as I decided to tease him and whether or not he would get pissed off for it...

“Can you say that whole thing one more time for me?”, I asked him as I looked at him trying to hide the smirk in my face.

“Don’t fucking push it.”, He muttered with a bored tone his expression changing from serious to happy as he gazed at me, laughing....

“Sorry....”, I said as I scooted closer to him on the bed my laughs calming down as I reached for his warmth letting my arms fall on his warm chest and skin,” I appreciate what my nice and handsome boyfriend had to say.” 

“Whatever..”, He answered simply with a sarcastic laugh only turning into a real one with a big smile on his face as he rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair kissing me in the forehead tenderly as he did. 

Still smiling, I couldn’t help but say the loving words to him as I melted into his arms....

“I love you.”

 I said in a hushed whisper but loud enough for him to hear as I cuddled with him, feeling each other’s warmth as we basked in the silence surrounding us in the room away from the loud and ruckus outside of it. 

Relaxing into his embrace and feeling very comfortable in it I couldn’t help but feel sleepy as all my energy was left and drained out of me.

 Whether it was the whiskey, his calming scent, or him right next to me, I hadn’t had a clue nor time to figure out as I dozed of into my slumber. 

I then felt a tingle next in my ear as I swore I could’ve heard this last part as he softly breathed it into my ear in a whispering voice as he noticed me sleeping. With a small smile, he said...

 as his rosy and slightly chapped lips parted and forming those words he never thought he’d said to anyone or to himself before nor he ever believed to ever hear them coming from himself or anyone... almost feeling like an illusion if he did say it.. almost like he wasn’t the one speaking it....as he said those ‘three damn forbidden words’ as he would like to call them, next to my soft ear in a hushed tone......

“I love you, too”

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{AUTHOR’S NOTE}: This was one of the requests I got from @metalheartofgold​ which was such an honor to write and receive from. Absolutely loved the idea and able to write it down here for you, sweets. I hope you enjoyed it, and that it was to your satisfaction, really. Love you💕

🖤I HOPE ANYONE THAT’S READING LIKED IT AS WEll AND LOVE YOU.🖤

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