#always in my head a london calling series

[hsjazebel]

Desperate part 1*

Word count: 2387

A/n: This is the first part of a series. It’s the first time I’ve written in a long time so I hope you like it! Also I would like to thank @gurugirl for her help which was very important to me!💘

Content Warning: this is a dbf story so if you don’t like these kind of things please just don’t read it! 18+, age gap (15 years), female masturbation - that’s all for this part.

part 2*

You never had so-called daddy issues as you always had a good relationship with your father, but there was something about that man with green eyes that made you feel desperate.

Your father had a large group of friends and they often organized parties and lunches or dinners together, but you never liked these things because there was no one of your age since everyone had younger children and the same age as your sister (so she often abandoned you to be with her friends) and because of this, you found everything very boring.

That is until a new figure appeared in the middle of a barbecue in your backyard: a handsome, curly-haired man with green eyes that seemed to peer into your soul.

You were sure you had never seen this man before because if you had you would definitely remember him given how amazingly handsome he was.

You were peacefully sunbathing on a lounger by the pool while continuing to watch videos on TikTok until your father arrived to interrupt your peace. “Y/n, I wanted to introduce you to someone! Harry. He arrived yesterday from London and as soon as I told him I was having a barbecue at home he wasted no time and arrived. Harry, this is my daughter Y/n!”

As soon as you lay eyes on Harry, your jaw nearly drops. You stand up and offer your hand to the man. “Nice to meet you, Harry.

“The pleasure is all mine. I’m surprised James has a daughter your age.”

You laugh at his joke; it was true many of your parents' friends were surprised when you said you were 23, given that both your parents were not yet 50.

Your hand is still in contact with Harry's and you honestly don't want to take it away, his hand was so big compared to yours and it was so soft and smooth. And then his beautiful voice with his English accent… oh god! You had always had a weakness for the English accent and hearing it on Harry you could say that you would imagine entering heaven like this.

“Let's say that Alice and I didn't wait long to get married and start a family, and she's not that big, she's still my little princess.” Your father's voice brings you back to reality and you feel Harry's hand slip away from yours. “Darling, Harry and I are going back to the others, I'll call you when lunch is ready!” And with that, he kisses you on the head and leaves with Harry not before the man with green eyes says goodbye to you.

After eating you decide to go back into the house to lie down for a while; staying in the sun all day had made you tired and in any case after lunch you always had the habit of taking a nap and the fact that your parents are having a party outside in your garden certainly won't stop you.

You get into the shower to get rid of the chlorine from the pool and also to cool off from all the heat today and finally get into your bed.

There's just one problem: after spending twenty long minutes tossing and turning in bed, you can't sleep, so you decide to do what you always do when you can't sleep: use your fingers to pleasure yourself. You slide your shorts down along with your panties and open your legs. You go straight to your clit because you know it's the fastest way to bring you to release and you start twisting your fingers quickly bringing dirty thoughts to your mind. But the only thing that appears in your head is the penetrating gaze of the English man you met not many hours ago and who is in your garden right now. You start to think about how good his hands would feel on you and how deep his voice would be as he whispers dirty things in your ear. Or how good his tongue would feel on your pussy and how quickly it would bring you to orgasm – because you could swear that man would know how to make a woman feel good. And so within a few minutes, you feel that feeling in your lower belly and you reach your orgasm with Harry in your mind.

You immediately feel tired all over your body and fall asleep soon after.

-

You didn't think you were that tired, but you were wrong because you woke up and the first thing you see when you open your eyes is your dog, Chery, lying on your legs - which you didn't even know how he got into your room seeing as the door was closed - and the alarm clock on your bedside table read 5:32 pm. You get out of bed and go to wash your face to try to remove some traces of sleep. Soon after you dress in a white top and a pair of shorts, pick up your dog, and go down to the living room.

As soon as you enter you notice from the glass doors overlooking the garden that all the guests have now left, but the thing that immediately catches your eye is Harry sitting on the sofa with your dad watching a football match. “Good morning sleeping beauty!” Your dad greets you.

“Mmh good morning,” you greet, putting your dog down and she jumps directly onto the sofa, placing himself next to Harry.

“There will be 5 of us this evening, Harry is also staying for dinner.”

“Yes, your father and I have a lot of time to catch up on,” Harry tells you with his beautiful smile that makes those pretty dimples of his appear that you want to touch with your index; and then those hands with which he is caressing Chery with… oh lord! Those same hands you fantasized about a few hours ago, with his long fingers and - ok maybe you shouldn't have thought so much about your father's friend like that but it wasn't your fault if he looked like a Greek god.

It's your father's voice that brings you back to reality, “I was thinking you could make your own special pasta, that dish is really delicious!”

“Oh, yes of course!”

Harry looks at you smiling and says, “I love pasta! I can't wait to taste it."

-

The dinner goes very well, you hear some anecdotes about your father's life as a teenager and you also discover that he was the most wanted boy at university! “I swear I remember being in the cafeteria one day and I heard this group of girls talking about how sexy James was and I was like what?? Are we talking about the same person?” Harry laughs.

And your father being the touchy man he is replies, “You're just jealous because they were talking about me and not you! If maybe at 21 you hadn't had long hair you would have seen that girls would have talked about you too!"

“Hey don't talk like that about my long hair,” Harry says putting a hand on his heart pretending to be hurt by your father's words.

And the evening continues like this, with constant banter between Harry and your father even when dinner is over and they decide to go out on the patio to drink a glass of whiskey while your mother goes to bed and you and your sister retire to your room.

"So Harry isn't that bad right?" Your sister starts. “If he wasn't Dad's friend I would also tell you to flirt with him.” Your eyelids widen at this statement and she continues, “Oh come on don't make that face, I know you think he’s sexy as hell.”

Well, actually your sister wasn't entirely wrong. “I can't deny he's handsome but I would never hit on him! He's dad's friend, like you said, and he'll be twice my age!"

“Yeah y/n as you say, but I know he has already enchanted you with his green eyes and his English accent! Goodnight and try not to dream about it,” she winks at you and walks out of your room leaving you alone.

You quickly realized that sleeping so much in the afternoon wasn't a great idea because you obviously weren't sleepy now and so you turned on the television to watch a few episodes of Friends while putting on a face mask.

After 5 episodes the tiredness was finally making itself felt so you decide to go to sleep, but you realize that the bottle of water on your bedside table is empty, and since you already know that you will wake up at night to drink, you take the bottle and go down to the kitchen to fill it up and finally, you can go to sleep afterward.

But what you don't expect when you get to the kitchen is to see Harry sitting on the couch reading a book. You remain frozen in your place for a moment, partly out of fear because certainly at this time of night, you weren't expecting anyone up, and also because you weren't expecting to see him.

He gives you a sweet smile as soon as he sees you, “Oh hi y/n! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

“No, don't worry, I just didn't expect to see you here." You say as you walk behind the kitchen island to fill the bottle.

“Oh yes since while your father and I were talking it got late he offered me to stay here for the night and I accepted,” he follows you with his gaze as he closes the book and places it on the table placed in front of the sofa. “Sorry again for scaring you, I didn't think I'd find anyone awake at this hour. By the way, why are you awake?”

You finish filling the bottle by taking a sip and then reply, “I realized my bottle was empty so I came down to fill it. And I could ask the same question to you, why aren't you sleeping?”

"I wasn't sleepy either and I remembered that when I entered the house I had seen a bookshelf and I decided to stay here and read a bit, trying to get myself to sleep."

You approach the sofa where he is sitting, "What book did you choose?”

He takes it from the table and shows you the cover, "Dostoevsky's White Nights, I love this book."

Your eyes widen in surprise, "Oh my god it's my favorite book too! In fact, for the record, that book is mine.”

“So sorry for borrowing it without telling you,” he laughs. “So you like Russian literature?”

“We can say that I love literature in general, especially the classics. In Russian literature I especially love Dostoevsky and Tolstoy," you reply, sitting on the sofa, even if a little far from where Harry is.

“I've never read anything by Tolstoy, maybe I could ask you for some advice.”

“I would be more than happy to help you!”

So you start talking about this and that. You discover that he has a degree in economics and management and has his own company in London. He met your father at the university where they were both doing a master's degree.

“And what can you tell me about yourself? Do you study or work?" At this point, you both had moved a little closer to each other.

“I actually do both. I have been studying fashion marketing in Milan for two years and in the meantime, I work for an Italian fashion magazine!” You've always liked talking about what you study because it's been a great passion of yours since you were little and you still can't believe that you're doing your dream job.

“So you live in Milan? I have been there many times and I love that city as I love all of Italy.”

“Yes, I live in Milan but I always come back here in the summer to be with my family. And I love Italy too, everyone is so hospitable and nice!”

"You can say it for sure! And why did you decide to study in Italy from California? If I may ask,” he asks curiously.

“In reality, I have always liked the world of fashion and when I finished school I was sure of what I wanted to do. Then talking to Mum and Dad I tried to convince them to let me study abroad but Dad didn't seem very convinced, then in the end Mum convinced him and I started looking for a good course of study. I wasn't sure from the beginning about going to Milan but then thinking about it, that is the cradle of fashion and so I made my decision!”

“Wow, I'm really impressed y/n! And can you also speak Italian?”

“Well, I had to learn it to live by it even though my pronunciation isn't that perfect.”

“I also learned Italian during my business trips. It's a frequent destination and I've made a few friends who have taught me something!”

You end up talking about your experiences in Italy until you notice from the windows that the sky is starting to lighten, a sign that the sun will come out soon. Harry notices too and lets out a small laugh when you let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand, “Sorry, I think sleep is kicking in now,” you laugh too.

"Yes, you are right. I didn't realize how much time had passed. Maybe now it's time to go to sleep even if soon I think someone in your family will get up."

You nod in agreement with him, "Yes, you are right. I think it's time for bed!” You stand up and he does the same.

“Goodnight or rather buonanotte!” He tells you with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen.

“Buonanotte!” you reply and so you turn and walk towards the stairs to go back to your room, bringing to mind the words your sister had said to you hours before, “Try not to dream about him”. Maybe it will be a little difficult because when you finally get into your bed and close your eyes you see beautiful dimples and green eyes.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

[redstarwriting]

the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

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It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his. 

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

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『 tag list 』

@444neapolitain​ @afraidofshrimp​ @arianalovescatss* @aroaceg @astrok1dz @baefy3764 @casmosmoon* @chill-guy-but-cooler @d1nne @dotheyevenknowmars @f1shb0nez @faerieluuv @fisshil @fukingsad @fushiguropleasesteponme* @friendly-reject @hisdarlingabsurdity @idk-i-draw @imarealfungi @imobsessedreader* @ineedsomeconfidence @inkthgoat @iwillrisefromthefire @j3st3r-13 @jingliuu @jjkclub @katiebug0603 @kenqki @khaleesihavilliard @kittekat420 @lacunaanonymoused @localbeidousimp @marshallowy @mistpx* @miwagila @naarra* @nikabearr @pookiesnatcher @queen-of-the-bored @queen-of-the-grapefruits @sadbitchhours400* @scoliobean @sillylittleguyinc @simplefools* @siriusly1 @sparklyphantom @stevenknightmarc​ @sxftiebee​ @thatweirdgirlsposts​ @valee1xoxo* @weyrrii* @wheeeelys​ @woahrin* @xoxobabe* @zero-boxes​ 

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

[teamhandsometcth]

A Monégasque Story ( Part 1 ) - Charles Leclerc

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary of the series - Y/n is Charles' best friend little sister. They grew up together but haven't seen each other's for years. Their relationship seems to take a different turn when Charles stay at her’s and her brother's.

Warning - Both Y/n's and Charles' POV, Fem reader, Both Charles and Y/n speaking French (translated) tension, tooth rotting fluff, three years age gap, mature content, 18+, brother's best friend, friends to lovers, she felt first he felt harder...

Disclaimer : I'm French and my English is NOT perfect ⚠️ Please don't stole or repost my stories on any other sites. Btw reblogs are more then welcomed.

Here I am, laying on my best friend's parents couch after spending the last 24 hours doing exactly that plus dealing with a massive hungover.

My flight landed in Monaco three days ago, and since that, Giselle and I have been glued to each other.

We didn't get to see each other much lately, I've been so busy with my finals. And with us living in different places, Giselle in London, and me in Paris, it's complicated to match our plannings.

I called her the very moment after landing, which quickly resulted to her proposing to celebrate the start of summer break (get drunk) with our friends. And that's exactly what we did. Wish resulted to our current state.

She hand me a cup of tea for the third time this afternoon, as we're desperately trying to find a place to spend the other half of our vacation.

I sit up and slightly roll up the sleeves of my cardigan before taking the cup. "Why don't we stay simple ? I think Italy would be the perfect place. It's sunny, the food is delicious, and the men are too..." I propose, a teasing smile dancing on my lips.

She laugh and shook her head lightly. "the men part does not work as an argument for me."

I meet her gaze, a knowing expression plastered on my face. "fair enough. Although I'm kind of up for a summer flying. You know, get to think about something else than work !"

"Can't relate, I never think about work." Giselle say calmly bringing her cup to her lips. I let out a laugh at her statement.

My phone suddenly start going off. I bend over to grab it from the coffee table, trying my best not to fall off the couch.

I unlock my phone, and quickly glance at the text conversation between my brother and I.

He was asking at what time I plan to get home. I quickly tap an answer before putting my phone back down.

Two empty cups and equal number of unread messages from Raphael later. Im finally standing at the front door.

"Text me when you're home !" Gisele shout from the kitchen. "yup." I answer loudly enough for her to hear before closing the door behind me.

I live in Paris since I started college, and even if I fly back to Monte Carlos often, I still miss it here.

My parents sold out our family home two years ago, since we weren't living with them anymore. Plus, they were always talking about traveling around the world just the two of them, and how exciting it will be to have this adventure for their marriage.

Even if it broke my heart to say goodbye to this house, that hold so many of my childhood memories, im really happy for them. So now, when im back in town, I usually go to my brother's.

It take me  less than 15 minutes to walk there, as I enjoy the view of the sun starting set slowly. I missed it so much. One of the thing I love the most about Monaco is how little it is, you can literally walk everywhere. Ironically enough, it's also what I hated the most about living here when I was a teenager, it seemed like my world was so little. Now I found peace in coming back here, it seems like time stop for a moment.

Once at the flat, I close the front door behind me and drop my bag on the couch.

The windows are open, letting a soft breeze dance between the sheers as the golden light from the now lot lower sun fill the living room.

I sat down on the couch, and send a quick message to Giselle to tell her I got home safe, Knowing that if I forget, she's going to come see for herself. She can be such a drama queen sometimes, and I love her for that.

I make my way toward my bedroom wanting only one thing, take a long hot shower. But as i pass the guest room a voice catch my attention.

I furrow my eyes brow as hear someone speak but it's not my brother. It sound familiar but I can't seem to remember where I heard it.

I push the door open, and my eyes directly fall on a pair of green ones. I frown, not only they seem familiar but I know exactly who own them.

And just like that, everything stop. I dive deeply into them, my breath become shorter and my mind goes back where my teenager heart installed itself years ago.

7 years earlier :

I am on the porch of my family house sitting on the staircase, my back against the gate. Observing my brother and his friends playing basket in our garden, a book with the world cheesiest cover in my hand. I was mesmerized by it, it was my first romance book ever and it made me dream of something I didn't know I wanted. Love.

As my eye travel between the pages I can't repress the big smile of pure euphoria off of my fifteen years old face.

I only detached my curious eyes off the words when I see a shadow approach. I quickly shut the book and look up, only to see Charles. "Hey."  I say a little too flustered. "Hey you too, what are you reading ?" he say trying to catch the book in my hand, I try an escape but he take it from my grip with a devious smile.

I wasn't particularly ashamed of reading romance, but definitely ashamed that my crush just caught me reading it, which is so gross.

He look at the cover, with a teasing grin on his perfectly sculptured face.

"Oh I seeeee," I drop my head between my knee and let out an ashamed groan. He giggle, "Stop being so shy, im just teasing you. This is so cute honestly."

"Charles stop I don't want to speak about that with you." I tell him, ready for a hole to open under me and swallow me entirely.

He kneel in front of me, make me raise my head by taking my chin between his hand, caressing it softly. "You know you don't have to be ashamed with me, it's good." He say softly. " It's completely normal for you to find interest in that, everyone do at our age, it's called being a teenager." He laugh lightly, I do too relaxing a little.

"But seriously, if you have any questions whatever it is you can ask me, I will be happy to help you."

I blush, look down then look back up at him again. "thank you Charlie."

"Charles ?" I ask in shock.

I stand there, completely stuck in place. I literally fell my heart beating in every fibers of my skin.

He look so handsome. I take my time to look at him up and down, taking in every changes and details. Don't get me wrong, I watch formula one so I know what he look like. It's just that it's been a while since I've seen him for real.

I finally look back in his eyes, just to discover he was doing the exact same thing I was doing a second ago. He was gazing intently at every curve and part of me, like he was trying to learn every single one of them.

When his beautiful green-ish colored eyes cross my again, smiles broke on both of our faces. 

"Salut," (hi ) He let out suddenly,  His voice holding an inch of hesitation and shyness in it. It's so freaking cute.

I try to contain my smile, still not believing my eyes. "Salut,"

Charles is my brother's best-friend. We grew up together, and for as far as can remember, I always had a crush on him. How could I not.

It has been one sided for the most part. Till 4 years ago when he started to reciprocate, we kind of started something but not so long after, I was leaving for Paris.

Since that, we keep on missing each other. Every time im here he's out of town, and vise versa. We didn't talk during this 4 years. We just kind of got on with our lives.

"Raph m'as pas dit que tu venais. T'es arrivé quand ?" ( Raph didn't tell me you were coming, when did you get here ? ) I say in disbelief, while going for a quick hug.

"J'ai atterri ce matin. C'était pas prévu mais je vais être à Monaco pour quelles semaines." ( I landed this morning actually. It wasn't planned, but im going to be in Monaco for a couple of weeks.) Charles smile as I pull away, he look at me up and down again. It make me weak in the knees and I fell like somehow he knows it.

As I look away my gaze catch a luggage at the foot of the bed. I look back at Charles in confusion. "You're staying here ?"

Charles nod lightly "Only for a couple of days. I let one of my friend and his girlfriend crash at my place since they are in town for a couple of weeks, and I wasn't supposed to be home for a while."

He's still not taking his eyes off of me, making me melt under his gaze.

He lock eyes with me, not saying anything. I love the way he look at me, he make me fell special. He blush when he realize he was staring.

He clear his throat lightly, "I was one the phone with your brother just before you got here and he's going to be out for a while, something to do with one of the boat."

I nod, "Right, well what do you want to do meanwhile ?" I question.

He smile at me "Viens avec moi, j'ai besoin d'aide pour défaire mes bagages." ( Come with me, I need help with unpacking. ) he say his hand delicately going on the small of my back slightly pushing me toward his luggage.

We start to unpack, Charles stand by the drawer, as im siting on the bed passing him his clothes. Catching up on what happened in our lives lately.

"J'ai hâte de la rencontrer, je suis sur qu’elle a des super pouvoirs. J'ai jamais vu Raph s'attacher autant à quelqu'un avant." ( Im actually quite impatient to meet this girl, im sure she have super powers. I've never seen Raph head over heels over someone before. )

I nod at him smiling at the thought "Il l'est vraiment. Et c'est vrai qu'elle est incroyable" ( Yeah, he really his. And she is pretty amazing I might add.) here he his again looking at me ready to tease me.

"Je suis certain que tu dis pas ça juste parce que c'est ta meilleure amie !"( Im sure you're not saying that because she is your best friend !) I chock my head, a smile on my lips. "Non pas du tout. Toute les personnes qui me fréquente sont genial" (No I'm not, every person who frequent me are incredible.) I say jokingly.

"Je devrai rester coller a toi alors" ( I should stay as close to you as possible then! ) He state teasingly. I don't know how long he's actually planning on staying but im gonna have a pretty hard time if he continue to say things like that to me. Im already so overwhelmed with emotions and it's only been an hour.

I always thought the silly crush I had on him will stay in my childhood, like something I will think about and be like "how could that happen". but here I am feeling this exact same sensations I was feeling on that porch, like nothing really changed.

Im not naive. I don't expect anything from him. I already kind of experimented how he is when it comes to relationships, and that’s not attractive to me.

We continue to unpack everything, while he's telling me some behind the scene of formula one. I love listening to him talking about his work, he's so passionate about it and excited to explain every details of it. It's charming.

"So what are you planning to do while you’re in break ?" We moved to his bed, after we finished organizing everything. I sat in front of his lied down body.

"I don't know actually, it's been a while since I've been here for more than two days." He began, stirring up a little. "I think I'm just happy to get to be with you and Raph, so whatever we do is fine by me" the biggest smile made its way on my face. "Thank you for saying that." he smile back "it's true."

He get up to take something out of the front pocket of his travel bag. "Wish made me think, I have something for you." he get back to me with a little package in his hand and give it to me.

I furrow my eyebrows at him as open it, just to see a gorgeous necklace with a little charm dawdling at the end of it. "It's so pretty, but why?" I say locking eyes with him. Im in aww, my literally eyes shining, "I saw it a few months ago when I was in Italy and it made me think of you, so I buy it and since im here I thought it was the perfect occasion to give it to you."

My eyes widened "Slow down a minutes, you buy this months ago ? Did you already knew you we were going to see each other ? I don't understand." I say with a confused expression.

He chock his head, "No I didn't, but I knew I was going to see you at some point, and I wanted to have it then." I blush at his thoughtfulness.

"Thank you so much Charles." I jump in his arms which he immediately respond by squeezing me tightly.

We stay like that just enjoying the warm of our bodies against one another.

Once we pulled away, I sat with my back toward Charles. He pass the necklace in front of me. I take a fistful of my hair, freeing my neck for him.

Once he attached it, I drop the hold on my hair making them fall back on my back. he push them away a little and press a kiss on my shoulder not saying anything. I fell butterflies rise in my stomach.

I turn around locking eyes with him "Thank you." He blush lightly. "You're very welcome love."

—————————

When my brother gets home, Charles and I are sitting on the balcony, enjoying the cooler air.

I love how Monaco fell like a party every single second. From the moment the sun went completely down, thousands of apartments started to light up all around the principality.

We can see people walking down the road all dressed up and ready to have a blast. it's a all mood, and it's magical.

"Y/n you're here." I hear from behind me. I stop my conversation with Charles and sightly twist my upper body on the sofa to look behind me, inside the apartment.

I send a smile in Raphael's direction, as he make his way to us, opening the already ajar glass door.

"Hey, sorry that I took so long." he say, kissing my cheeks to say hello.

He didn't miss the oportunity to ruffle my hair just after, just to piss me off.

If a look could kill, he'll be dead by now.

"Some idiots, rented a yacht and ruined it, I had to deal with all the paper work for the assurance, and the obviously dump tourists, that suddenly couldn't understand anything I was saying." he sight, crossing his arms and leaning against the gate.

My brother own yachts and boats. Well technically "we" do. He had taken upon the family business when our parents moved. He rent them so people can organize parties, weeding... And he also navigate for people who went to visit around.

"Shit." Charles let out from behind me, concern in his voice. "And did you find a solution ?"

"Yeah, well at least I think so, we'll see in the morning." he smile sightly, and focus his attention back on me. "btw Charles is staying with us!"

"Yeah i caught up on that."I snort at my brother, making Charles laugh.

I send a smile in his direction which he is quick to return, with his pretty dimples.

"So, what do you guys want to do tonight ?" I ask looking between the two.

I hate being the one responsable of picking places to go to, because if it's not good or something it's all on me.

Raphael, shrugs "Whatever you and Charles want, im not picky." And it's true, he was incredibly easy to please.

I turn to Charles, he turn to me, smirk, than say the infamous words "whatever you pick is fine by me." This bastard.

"You guys are impossible." I sight.

To be continued...

Part 2 >>

I hope you guys liked it. This was the first part of what I hope will be a story. I created a masterlist so check it out if you want. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. If you want to request something, go for it and I will try my best to make it as good as possible. Have an amazing day or night, and maybe see you soon. With love, 💜

Ps : don’t forget to share if you want to

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x best friend’s sister #charles leclerc friends to lovers #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #monaco #formula 1 #cl16 #cl16 x reader #charles lechair #cl16 imagine #cl16 x y/n #cl16 fluff #cl16 smut #cl16 fic #formula 1 drivers #Charles Leclerc she fall first he fall harder #Charles Leclerc brother’s best friend #she felt first he felt harder #brother’s best friend #best friend’s sister #friends to lovers #charles leclerc series #Charles leclerc speaking french #Charles leclerc french series

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 03. THE DRAMA

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not. time jump of a month approx.

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 LONDON, ENGLAND — JUN 27, 2023

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 897,455 others

yourusername i kinda like it here. ⛳️

view all 7,637 comments

user66 uh excuse me? the second slide???

user67 IS THAT CHARLES ???? user68 I THINK SO

alex_albon i feel betrayed.

yourusername stop being so dramatic

user69 my parents are together i still can’t believe it

user70 oh my god okay it’s happening

user71 everybody stay calm OH MY GOD user72 are they together? user71 girl go on twitter and see

landonorris let’s play and see who’s better

yourusername me ofc

charles_leclerc ❤️

user73 relationship goals

user74 lol we don’t even know if they’re dating user75 they kissed in front of thousand of people AND on live tv what are you talking about

user76 he’s too good for her

user77 who is she anyway. user78 stop being so childish, he’s never gonna date u

user79 who wouldn’t want to date her i mean just look at her

user80 all these people saying charles is too good for her like ??? SHE’S too good for him

user81 she will get bored in a few days mark my words

danielricciardo Ok but who won?

charles_leclerc i won! yourusername charlie don’t lie maxverstappen1 I don’t believe anything he says ever since I won fair and square playing FIFA and he threw the controller at me. landonorris he did that to you too? pierregasly that’s nothing. he threw a padel racket at my head, i still don’t remember anything from that day. charles_leclerc ffs shut up yourusername leave him alone you bullies

user82 i love how all the drivers are calling charles out lol

Y/N’S iMESSAGE

“that’s not how you make pasta!” you’re dying with laughter at seeing charles trying to cook.

“i asked you if i could cook!” charles can’t help but join you in your laughter, leaving the burned pasta aside.

“because you said you knew how to!”

“you better not believe anything i say.” he takes a sip of wine. the one he brought alongside the beautiful flowers that are now adorning your terrace.

“not even when you say how much you like me?” you pout, looking at him beneath your eyelashes.

charles walks the short distance to where you are sitting in the kitchen counter and you happily make room for him between your legs, arms finding your waist in no time.

“you should a hundred percent believe that.”

“mh i don’t know,” you tease, playing with his soft hair. god, you love his hair so much. “i think you should show me.”

“oh i’m definitely going to do that.”

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by sabrinacarpenter, gigihadid and 566,328 others

yourusername 💐

view all 8,771 comments

user83 that’s one hell of a bouquet

user84 charles knows what he’s doing

gigihadid Can’t wait to see you this weekend!

❤️ by author

user85 i wanna be her so bad :(

user86 If it weren’t for Charles nobody would know who she is. He put her on the map.

user87 this is a grown ass man by the way user 88 i swear to god men are so in love with charles is getting kinda scary

carmenmmundt What a beautiful picture 💛

user89 tired of her comment section being all about charles

user90 fr like they forget she’s her own person user91 I just know she doesn’t like this at all, she’s always speak up about these kind of things user92 if this were to happen the other way around everyone would be insulting her

user93 CHARLES IS WITH HER RN OHMYGOD

user94 what are you taking about user93 LOOK AT CHARLES STORIES HE LITERALLY JUST POSTED THE PICTURES user95 if it wasn’t for the close up of the flowers we wouldn’t even know they’re together user96 he def did it on purpose

user97 the boys, the girls, the gays, they all like Y/N

INSTAGRAM STORIES

landonorris has replied to your story

landonorris: *chandler bing’s voice* can I BE any more obvious? charles_leclerc: just stop watching friends, i beg you

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story

maxverstappen1: Uh, so that’s why you wouldn’t travel with me. Interesting. charles_leclerc: can i use air max for the next race? 🥺

pierregasly has replied to your story

pierregasly: you guys make me sick charles_leclerc: Y/N says to shut up pierregasly: 🤮🤮🤮

yourusername has replied to your story

yourusername: i like this soft launch/hard launch thing charles_leclerc: i bet you like me more yourusername: debatable charles_leclerc: i can make you change your mind 😏

TWITTER — JUN 28, 2023

TWITTER — JUN 30, 2023

TWITTER — JUL 02, 2023

ALEX’S iMESAGGE

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @thatoneembarrasingmoment.

note: hiii besties, take this as an early new years present! this was supposed to be posted after dec 31st but couldn’t leave it in the drafts. there is at least one or two more chapters, so if you still wanna be added to the taglist let me know! <3

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc blurb

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmore @orang3-ish @friedryes @nahnahnahwhat @be-missed @jjuncidio @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @omega-horus @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon123 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern @noooodlessstuff @vstblrblog @godsfavouritelesbiann

#legally binded #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #wednesday netflix

[norrisleclercf1]

Just for carlando can we get a mini lando blurb with a visit from uncle carlos

A/N: Ughhhh Aiden's favorite Uncle visiting him would make that baby so happy

Mini Lando Series Masterlist

Aiden truly loved one person more than his own parents and that was his Uncle Los. Still unable to say Carlos fully, Aiden has stuck to calling him Uncle Los and he has missed him dearly.

The Mini Norris has been begging to see his Uncle for the longest time. Unable to go to Singapore with his Daddy, he was stuck watching the race with you and his annoying brother Caleb.

Lando was well aware how much Aiden was missing Carlos, even more so when you posted a video of Aiden screaming. The little boy could have cared less about his own father getting a podium. Instead, he was decked out in his 55 merch running around screaming Uncle Los.

Carlos saw the video immediately and right then and there booked a flight to London to see his godson. Lando wasn't even aware Carlos was joining until he walked into his jet seeing Carlos there, trophy in hand.

Waking Aiden, the next morning was hard, the poor baby had tuckered himself out. Running wild for the rest of the day, trying to call Uncle Los but with no answer. Lando picked up, and Aiden asked where Uncle Los was first. Betrayal, betrayed by his own son.

"Carlos, you have to be exhausted. Go catch some sleep, Aiden won't be up for hours." You begged the Spainard while your husband stands there with his hands up. "Hey? What about me? I'm the husband and father. What am I? Chopped liver?" Lando grumbles, while you and Carlos watch him trifle through the pantry.

"Lan, I love you. But," "But what? He's, my son!" Lando was jealous. He knew Aiden loved him but given the chance Aiden would go with Carlos if he could. "Calm down, Aiden sees you all the time. It's not easy for him to see Carlos. Now, want to go get Caleb for me?" Lando's face lights up as he rushes down the hall to get his youngest.

Shaking your head, you grab your hidden stash of candy and rip it open. Looking up you stop seeing Carlos stare at you. "Shut up! I'll tell him later." "Am I getting a niece finally?" Carlos whispers, hope and love filling his eyes. "It feels like a boy again." Carlos grumbles but leans over the counter kissing your cheek.

"You missed me didn't you bubba? Yes, you did, you always miss Daddy." Shoving the rest of the candy in your mouth you hide the stash and smile, seeing Caleb and Lando. "Mama!" Caleb whines, reaching out for you while Lando groans handing Caleb off to you. "Do none of my sons love me? Y/n, we need another one please? A little girl?"

Carlos and you share a look, one that Lando misses as he fixes a sippy cup for Caleb. "Talk to me when you win a race." Carlos snickers but stops when the sound of small feet echo in the quiet house. "Uh oh, I think Aiden is awake." Speaking of the devil the little boy all 5 years of him walks in eyes closed.

"Why is he wearing a Ferrari shirt?" Lando whines, Aiden sticking his arms straight up when he hears his Daddy's voice. "Daddy! Up!" He whines, head thrown back trying to stay awake. "I'm coming." Lando coos, scooping him up as Aiden melts into his arms.

"I missed you," Aiden mumbles, rubbing his face in Lando's neck. "Ha! See, at least my boy missed me." Aiden whines at the loudness of Lando's voice. "Lando, he's your son of course he missed you." Carlos points out. Aiden's head rises, but eyes still closed as he tries to figure out where Uncle Los's voice came from.

"Uncle Los?" Slowly but surely, he pries his eyes open and blinks, then rubs them. Vision, clear he stares at Uncle Los, the adults holding their breath as they watch Aiden's brain catchup with what he was seeing.

Lando chuckles as he feels Aiden's body start to shake as he grows excited seeing his favorite person on earth. "UNCLE LOS!" Aiden screeches, Lando and you cringing but Carlos bursts into this wide smile gladly accepting the vibrating preschooler. "Hi Mini Lando." Aiden and Carlos all but melt into each other as Aiden holds onto Carlos with all his strength.

"You're here," All 3 of you look at each other, hearing the choked words. Carlos pulls Aiden back seeing his godson crying. "I'm here, and not going anywhere for a week." Aiden rubs his eyes as he throws himself back into Carlos holding tight.

"Okay, you're moving in." You whisper, your heightened hormones making you choke up. "What? He's not moving in!" Lando bursts, refusing to lose his son's to Carlos. "Lando, our baby is crying. I refuse to let him cry. Carlos you're moving in." Carlos just nods as you tighten your hold on Caleb who just lays there watching everything around him.

"No, he's not moving in." Lando's skin prickles when you cut him a glare that would send any man screaming. "I'll go make up the guest room." He whispers, as Carlos laughs rubbing Aiden's back. "I'm not really moving in, am I?" Carlos asks, somewhat unsure if you're being serious.

"I'm pregnant, Carlos. If you are what keeps my baby from crying, your sure as hell are." Leaving no room for argument. "Okay."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 oneshot #mini lando series #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lando norris image #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz fluff

[fangirl-dot-com]

Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris - It's not Orange, It's Papaya

Welcome to the second instalment of my spinoff series – Besties for the Resties! I really thought that I could maybe have made a single chapter for each driver, BUT I feel like Oscar and reader would be too introverted together and the story would be a bunch of lines about silence and them staring at each other. They really needed Lando to be able to get talking and to banter. 

I myself am very introverted and I freeze up around people that I don’t know. But when I’m with my extroverted friends, I have a completely different side! I don’t explicitly say this but I do base the reader off of myself most of the time. I am a Virgo, I am from Texas, and I just turned 20, so many of the lines I give the reader are things that I have said or would say. That being, do you think that the reader is a bit all over the place or is she a good solid character who acts in very realistic ways?

I hope you enjoy and please don’t forget to comment! I love reading everything that you all have to say about the story! It makes me happy to see that you’re enjoying it! (Also comment if you want to be added to the tag list!) Much love – author! 

Of course the elevator had to be broken, on today of all days. You sludged up the stairs, leaving puddles to follow where you stepped. Once you hauled yourself to the top of the stairs, you stomped over to your apartment door. Why Christian wanted you to come to London for an extra training session during rainiest week of the break, you didn’t know. 

You were supposed to be at Max’s house right now, eating dinner with his family. But noooooo. Max didn’t even have to come either. Something about how your test time was deleted, or something like that. You could barely hear Christian over the ocean when he called you in the middle of a beach day. 

Your hand dug through your pocket, searching for the keys as you approached your door. But, your fingers never came into contact with the smooth metal piece. You flipped your pocket inside out, and all that fell from it was lint. 

“Great. Just perfect,” you muttered as you looked at your door. You turned your head. Maybe Logan was here. You shuffled over and knocked. Tiredly, you rested your head against the nice wood. 

After a few moments, you didn’t hear anything, which brought out another sigh. Of course he wouldn’t be here. He was probably back in the states for the break. 

You were definitely making a statement by dripping all over the floor. Maybe you should lay down, floor time always helped. As you were about to lift your head, the door suddenly opened up. 

You didn’t have enough time to react and found yourself sprawled in between Logan’s flat and the door frame. 

“Logan am I so glad that you’re…You’re not Logan,” you looked up and were met with the sight of none other than Oscar Piastri. 

He looked down at you, “Good to see you too Y/n.” He put out a hand for you to take. You gently placed your hand in his and he hauled you up. There was now a massive you-shaped puddle on the ground. 

You looked down at it, “Sorry for the mess.” Oscar crossed his arms. 

“Why are you knocking on Logan’s door at,” he looked over at the clock on the wall, “5 p.m.?” 

You sheepishly grinned, “Well, I may or may not have forgotten my keys back at Milton.” Your hand scratched your head. 

Oscar just stared at you. You stared back. 

“Why are you here?” you quizzed. You knew that Logan and Oscar were best of friends, but didn’t realize that Oscar had a key to the flat. 

He sighed, “Lando invited me to be in the Quadrant Christmas video and the filming is this week.” He ushered you to come more into the room so that he could close the door. “But Lando graciously forgot that Max Fewtrell only has one extra bed. So Lando took it and I called Logan to see if I could stay here.” 

“Ah,” you nodded and looked down at yourself. 

Oscar suddenly sputtered, “I will go get you a towel and then see if Logan has something in his drawers.” He quickly left, but then turned back around. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you know where everything is? I guess you’d be over here more than me.” You gave him a reassuring smile and walked deeper into the house. You had taken your shoes off before stepping on the carpet as to try to not drench everything. 

In the bathroom, you found some towels. “Here,” you handed one to Oscar. “Could you wipe the puddle I left at the front while I change?” He nodded and disappeared down the hallway. You closed the door behind him and peeled of your soaked outfit. 

You took some sweats and a random t-shirt from a drawer and put them on. You bundled your wet clothes and threw them in the wash as you walked towards the living space. It seemed like Oscar had already cleaned everything up since the towel was now hanging on the back on a chair. You ran another towel over your hair, drying it to the best of your abilities. 

Oscar walked back in. The two of you stood in silence before you fished out your phone. You pressed on the uber app, but a notification told you that the roads were flooded and you’d have to wait until the morning. You sighed, which peaked Oscar’s interest. 

“Everything ok?” he asked, Australian accent filled with concern. 

You showed him the screen. “Everything is flooded. I can’t get back to get my keys.” Oscar looked deep in thought. 

“You could always stay here?” It came out more like a question. 

“I don’t want to trouble you,” you fiddled with your fingers. Before now, you had never said more than ten words to the Aussie. Sure, he was Logan’s friend, but he wasn’t your friend. You were about to say something, when a knock resonated in the small entrance. The two of you whipped to look at it. You both waited in silence before another knock sounded. 

You raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “Are you expecting anyone?” Oscar shook his head. He quickly moved you behind him before looking out the peephole. He groaned before opening the door. 

There, standing in the doorway, was a soaked Lando Norris. You wanted to laugh. 

So you did. 

The two boys looked at you while you tried to calm yourself down. Lando brushed past Oscar and made his way into the flat. 

“By all means, welcome in,” Oscar sarcastically said. He locked the door and turned to look at him. You had finally been able to calm yourself down. 

“Hi Lando,” you greeted before turning around to enter the kitchen. 

“Uh, hi?” 

Oscar hit the back of his head, “What happened to you staying at Max’s?” 

Lando shrugged. “His girlfriend was over and I wasn’t about to watch them suck faces.” You snorted. 

“Aha, felt.” The three of you kind of just watched each other. You were the first one to talk. “Lando, do you want a towel?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief before answering, “Yes please.” 

You turned and headed back into the direction of Logan’s bedroom. Thankfully there was one more towel. You also grabbed another pair of sweats and a t-shit. You reemerged from the hallway and handed the items to Lando. 

“Bathroom is down the hallway to the left.” Your head jerked in the direction. Lando went around you and disappeared. You looked back at Oscar. 

“So. Sleepover?” A smirk grew on your face, before your cheeks got hot and you panicked. “Unless you’d rather me go see if I can find the landlord to get another key. I wouldn’t want to make you or Lando uncomfortable?” You continued to ramble until Oscar lightly hit your face. That shut you up. 

He rubbed his face. “No, Y/n it’s fine. Besides it’s getting late and I don’t think Logan would like it if I told you to leave.” You nodded as Lando finally came back, clothes in a heaping wet mess in his arms. You told him to put them next to the washer and that you’d start his clothes when yours were done. 

Lando clapped his hands. “What’s the plan?” 

You went to respond but Oscar beat you to it, “Sleepover.” You watched as Lando’s lips turned upwards. 

“Hold on!” you yelled and watched Oscar and Lando jump in their place. 

The two boys watched as you made your way to the kitchen. You leaned down to look what was in the fridge. “Jackpot. Bless you and you Americanness Logan.” You brought out three dark red cans and handed them to each boy.  

They looked at the cans with the white font. 

“What is this?” Lando asked, popping the can. 

You gawked at them and smacked you head. “You’re telling me. You’ve been friends with Logan and he hasn’t given you Dr. Pepper!” They both shook their heads. “Well, it’s about time you tried it.” Two more pops sounded as you and Oscar opened your cans. 

“Is it alcoholic?” Oscar asked, taking a sip of the sweet drink. 

You looked at the both of them, “Guys, I’m twenty. And where I’m from, you have to be at least 21 to partake in such adultish things such as drinking alcohol.” You took a sip and closed your eyes. You could feel the freedom seep into your veins. 

The boys looked at you strangely before Lando spoke in a childish voice, ‘Aw so you’re just a baby.” 

“Says the one who acts like a 5-year-old,” you quipped. Oscar choked on his drink while Lando stared at you. Oscar quickly wiped his face. “Do you like it?” 

Lando nodded, “It’s very sweet.” 

“That’s the taste of freedom boys.” 

“Y/n, none of us are under communism,” Oscar pointed out. 

“But you both have a monarchy who makes all the decisions.” 

“That’s Parliament,” Lando coughed, a smirk adorning his face. 

“Tomato, tomato.” You waved your hand. “I think Logan has a severe addition to frozen pizzas. I could make one real fast?” Their stomachs answered for them. 

You got to work by preheating the oven. When that was done, you carefully took off the plastic (not wanting to melt it onto the pizza), and placed the circle on a baking sheet. By now, the two McLaren drivers had moved to the couch. After setting the timer, you also joined them, but sat on the floor. 

You looked them up and down at you sipped. “It’s weird seeing the two of you not in orange.” 

Oscar slapped his face. “Here we go.” 

Lando looked like you had insulted him, his whole family, and his cow. He sat up straighter and crossed his legs. 

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya,” he emphasized the syllables. 

“It falls into the orange category of colors,” you bit back. 

“Then it would be called orange then. Oh wait, it’s not.” 

“Aren’t you a sassy little dude,” you peered at him. “It’s giving Scorpio.” Lando lit up like a Christmas tree. Oscar again, face palmed. 

“Please let’s not start this,” Oscar groaned. However, you and Lando didn’t listen to him. The two of you began to discuss star signs and what characteristics came with them. He was surprised when you told him that you were a Virgo. 

“Aren’t they shy?” 

You looked down at your fingers, “I’m shy until I get comfortable. Believe me, when I first saw you guys, I was shaking like a leaf. I still do. And if you put me into a room full of strangers I will find a way out so help me.” 

Lando dramatically brought you into a hug, his face pressed against yours. His hand came up to pat your head as you shot help-me-eyes at Oscar. “It’s ok little introvert, your extrovert is here to protect you.” You shoved him off when you heard the oven beep. The pizza had turned out perfectly. 

Not wanting to do dishes, you three ate off of paper towels. You picked up the remote as you ate a bite. “What movie should we watch? Logan has Disney Plus.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Yeah I know. You two finished Cars without me.” 

“It’s not like we can’t start it over.” You turned to Lando. “Have you seen Cars 2?” 

Lando scoffed, “Of course I’ve seen Cars 2.”  

You held up your hands in mock defeated as you turned the movie on, “You seem uncultured.” You missed the look that Lando gave you. 

Like it always is, Cars 2 was fabulous. Lando was the first one to speak during the movie. His finger was pointed at the large TV. 

“Look its Charles.”

You thought he was pointing at Lightning McQueen, but Francesco. You and Oscar wheezed at the revelation. 

“But Charles is Lightning though,” your hands now pointed at the flashy red car now on screen. 

Oscar took a sip from his Dr. Pepper, “Lando would be the Volkswagen.” 

You gasped, “You’re right. He’s such a Filmore. Logan would be Sarge.” The two boys laughed out loud. 

The three of you screamed as you saw Lewis’s car come up. Lando quickly took a picture and promised to send it him. 

The movie continued before Lando spoke again, “Yeah, Max is definitely Mater.” 

“I know right,” you said, munching on another slice of pizza. “What car is Oscar though, none of them really fit him.” Oscar gave you an offended look. 

“He’d be Axelrod.” 

“I beg your pardon,” Oscar whipped his head around to look at Lando. 

“Well you would. I swear, if you were planning our demise, no one would think it’d be you.” 

You jumped in, “Either him or the Professor.” Oscar grimaced and shook his head. 

“I’ll take Axelrod.” 

“Y/n you’d be McMissile.” You fist pumped. 

“Why does she get to be the cool character?”  

“Because I’m better than you?” That earned you a scoff from the Aussie. 

“Sure. Just because you’re going to be driving a rocket ship doesn’t mean you’re better.” 

“Ladies, ladies, ladies, can we quiet down, the movie is still going on,” the Brit complained. You and Oscar leaned back and continued to watch the movie. You’re pretty sure that Lando was in tears at the end, and you and Oscar couldn’t help but tease. You went to change the movie to another one, when yet another knock sounded on the door. 

The three of you froze and slowly turned to look at the door, as if it would move. The knock sounded again. You and Oscar pushed Lando closer to the entrance. He gave you both a stink eye before looking opening the door wide open. 

“Christian!” you squealed and ran over to the older man. He was smart enough to have brought a rain coat and jacket. 

He held out your keys, “I think you forgot something.” He looked over your shoulder and stared at the two McLaren drivers. “Giving our secrets away Y/n?” 

You looked over a smirked, “As if they could use them properly in their tractor.” The two boys rolled their eyes in sync. Christian bid you goodbye and closed the door behind them. You noticed a sad look on the guys’ faces. 

You shrugged and sank down into the couch once again, a blanket over your lap. You looked at them as they continued to stand. With your eyebrow raised, you questioned, “Why are you two still standing there?” 

They shrugged and joined you. 

Lando looked at you, “I think we thought that you’d want to go to your flat now.” 

“Well boys, I was promised a sleepover. And a sleep over I will get. Now, what movie are we going to watch? I say Spider-man Homecoming. Lando is it true that Tom Holland is going to play you in a movie?” 

“My lips are sealed.” 

“That’s ok. He’s not called the Spoiler King for nothing!”    

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[hollytoshaw]

noisy neighbour part one | harry lewis

summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 4.3k

a/n: this is part one of my noisy neighbour series!!! this is the first full length fic (non insta au) that i've written on here so hopefully it's not half bad and you all enjoy it. any feedback much appreciated xx

requests: open for insta au's and short storys xxx

rest of my work hereeee : masterlist

 ✩ ✩ ✩

Y/N was having the worst week imaginable.

For just over a year, she had poured her heart and soul into her coffee shop, 'Sweetheart's Sip' (a cheesy name, she knows), that was located in the heart of Shoreditch, a few roads away from Boxpark. It had always been a dream of hers to open her own little cafe, and a few years after leaving university, she did just that. It was one of her biggest goals to spread the joy of enjoying a tasty slice of lemon cake or hearty brewed cup of breakfast tea to everyone in the area, and after searching for what felt like years, Y/N found a vacancy for a small shop in London that luckily had a flat free above it. With a few trips to Ikea and endless nights of painting and decorating, Y/N was finally able to call 'Sweetheart's Sip' her home.

Living above her shop was so convenient for her, as she opened at 7:30 most days, and when she was left closing late after a busy day of making flat whites, it was nice for her to just trod upstairs and into her peaceful solitude, not having to worry about catching a tube or bus halfway across the city.

The shop just next to her cafe had a flat above it that had been vacant for ages, long before Y/N had even opened her little place. However, recent weeks saw the arrival of many construction crews and noise, some with cameras, which she found quite odd but intriguing, signalling a new tenant for the adjacent flat was on their way.

And this is why Y/N was having a bad week.

Don't get her wrong; she was excited to meet her new neighbour. She had even made bets in her head that it would be some trendy hipster (it was Shoreditch after all) or hopefully a quiet office-goer who wouldn't make too much noise. But Y/N had lost her own bet; she was completely off with her guesses.

Instead, as the days passed and her neighbour moved in, all she could hear was loud house music and a male voice shouting for a good 6 hours out of the day—this was no trendy hipster or quiet office-goer.

The noise was so bad that the whole cute atmosphere of 'Sweetheart's Sip' felt completely disrupted, the loud music drowning out the conversations of her customers sipping away at their coffees.

So, a week passed before Y/N let the noise get the best of her. She'd taken numerous trips to Boots for paracetamol to try and numb her headache, but it wasn't enough; she needed to confront the noisy neighbour head-on. But Y/N hated confrontation; the thought of having to single out someone and tell them that they needed to essentially 'Shut up' was making her headaches even worse, especially when this person was someone she'd never met and now a person that could be living next to her for years to come.

She knew she had to do it, though. As much as it pained her to do so, the noise was so bad. Disrupting her in her own flat was one thing, but the fact that customers were reluctant to enter in fear that they'd hear thumping music that was enough to shake the teapots hung up on the wall was Y/N's breaking point.

She flipped the sign on the front door of the cafe from 'open' to 'close' as no one was in the cafe, a rarity for Y/N but no surprise with the past week's events. Taking three deep breaths, she rehearsed a little speech in her head, unsure of who would be waiting on the other side of the door. ''You can do this, Y/N,'' she thought in her head. Rehearsing a little speech was something Y/N always did whenever she had to talk to new people. Or if she knew she was going to a new restaurant, she'd have to rehearse her food order in her head about a hundred times before telling the waiter. It made her feel less anxious, and anxious was exactly how she felt right now.

Ringing the buzzer of the blue door, she heard a man's voice shout, ''One-second boys, think my Deliveroo driver's here.''

The sudden thought of turning back and going back next door was so tempting at that moment, but she knew if she turned around, there'd be no resolution to the issues, and one terrible week would soon turn into a terrible month.

A waft of aftershave hit her in the face as the door opened, and she was met face-to-face with the noisy culprit she'd been so apprehensive to introduce herself to. A rugged man, blonde-haired with scruffy facial hair and blue eyes, similar in age to her, stood in front of her. Expecting a food delivery driver, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her. She stood awkwardly outside his front door with her green apron on that she'd forgotten to take off before closing up.

She could still hear the heavy bass of house music pounding from upstairs, this time much louder.

Clearing his throat, the man spoke. ''Can I help you?'' His voice was deep and quite posh, but still nice, she thought.

''S-sorry. I mean yes,'' she paused, jumbling up her words, the rehearsed speech gone out the window. ''-I'm from next door, the cafe?''

''Oh right.'' he laughed, leaning against the door frame. ''Yeah, Sweetheart's shit or something like that?'' What a rubbish attempt at a joke, or maybe just plain rudeness, she thought.

''Sweetheart's sip, not shit,'' she stated, to which he smiled back.

''Oh right, well... What can I do for you?'' he asked, looking down at his phone to see if his Deliveroo app had updated an estimated time of arrival for his chicken burger, not half interested in what she had to say.

''Well, as I said, I'm from next door, and I've had a few complaints from customers about loud music and shouting coming from your flat, and I was just wondering if there was any chance you'd keep it down a bit?'' she asked. '’I hate asking, but it's sort of taking a toll on my shop.''

''What? The sweetheart's got nowhere to shit anymore?'' he tried, but was met with a stern look from the small girl standing on his doorstep. ''Right, not funny. Sorry, I'll try to keep the noise down.''

''Thank you.'' she smiled.

''Anything else?'' he said, eyebrows raised.

''No, that's all; I've got to get back,'' Y/N replied, pointing towards her cafe.

Turning on her heels, a sigh of relief left her lips as she retreated back to the shop. That wasn't too hard, she realised. The problem of loud music and shouting was finally resolved. She could get back to her sweet little cafe, and her regulars would finally have their quiet place back to chinwag again.

But as she was nearing the door, she heard the man clear his throat, shouting over the noise of traffic that passed them both. '''Before you go, any chance you know the person that lives above your cafe? You know the one that's next door to me upstairs?''

She turned back to face him, seeing his head sticking out the door, slippers clad on his feet so he would not step barefoot on the dirty London pavements.

''I do, yeah,'' she replied. She didn't necessarily want to let the man know that it was, in fact, her that lived next door to him. She couldn't be bothered to make small talk, as she needed to get back to work. And if her initial introduction was anything to go off of, she didn't think this man would be someone who'd want to make small talk with her anyway.

''Any chance if you see them, you'd tell them to keep their own music down? Kept me up the whole of Saturday and Sunday night listening to ABBA.'' he said, pinching in between his eyes as if to emphasise that he had a headache all weekend from it.

''Really?'' she said.

''Yes. Honestly, if you think my music is bad, you should have heard the screechy singing I had to put up with all weekend. Like nails on a chalkboard,'' he laughed.

Y/N was embarrassed. Not only had it taken all her courage, paired with a few rehearsal speeches, to come and confront her noisy neighbour, she had now been told that her music and singing were in fact much worse and the reason for his headaches. She wanted to hide away in her flat; she was mortified.

Turning back towards her door in attempts to get as far away as possible from the reason for her embarrassment, she muffled a quick ''I'll let them know.'' before retreating quickly into the front door of her cafe.

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since her awkward encounter, and luckily for Y/N, she hadn't seen the sight of her noisy neighbour since then.

She descended the stairs from her flat and unlocked the front door of her cafe, bracing herself for what she knew would be a busy day. Fridays were always Y/N's busiest, whether that was people popping in during their work break, tourists stopping by to try something 'authentically British' or just her regulars back to try the 'cake of the month', Fridays just always seemed to draw in more people than any other day.

The brief encounter she had with her neighbour had lingered in her mind the whole week. While the music and shouting had quietened down, every so often, Y/N would hear the start of a house tune or a loud shout that only made her wince and think that maybe her embarrassing confrontation was all for nothing.

Today, however, silence greeted Y/N as she walked into the cafe, ready to start the coffee machine and display her various sweet treats on the counter. She had never felt more grateful.

Throughout the day, customers came and went, their conversations having a soothing melody compared to the previous week's discord. Y/N felt like she could finally relax and enjoy the solace of their company, grateful for the return of the peaceful cafe that she had worked so hard to create.

As evening came around, Y/N was getting ready to close up her shop and retreat upstairs to her apartment, eager to unwind. She loved her Friday routine—she'd go upstairs, stick on a pair of cosy Primark pyjamas, light a scented candle, indulge in a simple dinner (usually the Gigi Hadid Vodka Pasta off Tiktok), and curl up on her sofa, flicking through the television and ultimately landing on an episode of Real Housewives.

Her back was turned as she began to clean the coffee machine. Looking at the clock, she could see it was 5 minutes to 5 p.m., and at this point, she doubted anyone would come in at this time, so she kept herself busy, cleaning away so she could rush upstairs.

4 minutes to close, and she heard the door chime. Her tranquilly was short-lived. Before turning around, she heard a man's voice: ''You're not closed yet, are you?''—that unmistakable man's voice that had been ringing in her ears and around her mind since the whole door confrontation moment. Y/N's heart dropped. Had he finally realised she was the'screechy 'neighbour playing ABBA at last?

''Oh hi.'' she smiled, throwing the cloth she was using to clean the coffee machine under the counter. ''What can I do for you?''

''Hello'' he paused. ''I'm in the mood for a sweet treat after a long day. You got anything like that?''

''Hmm,'' she hummed, her eyes scanning the very little treats she had left after her own busy day. ''I've got two slices of lemon cake or some chocolate cupcakes if you fancy?'' God, she hated this. Trying to act polite and unbothered, when in reality all she could think about was the fact that he'd probably heard her every move for the past two weeks.

''Oooh.'' He looked carefully at the baked goods, noting that there were many options. ''You know what? I'll have one of each. It's been a long day today.''

Y/N knew what he was doing. Nearly every customer did it. They'd drop subtly into conversation about how their day was going badly or what sort of plans they had later, in hopes that Y/N would entertain them for a brief second. She didn't mind usually; it was nice to hear about a stranger's life for a brief second, something to take her mind off the fact she was actually working.

But right now, she hated the fact that she probably had to entertain his huffs about having a long day. She'd look rude if she didn't—being a business owner and all—even if he had already heard her belt out the lyrics to 'Dancing Queen' not so long ago.

''Coming right up,'' she said, grabbing two boxes with branded stickers that said 'Sweetheart's Sip' on them—she'd gotten them off Etsy. ''Long day, you said? How so?''

He had taken off his backpack, leaning onto the counter. Oh, he was getting comfortable, she thought. Great.

''Just a long day of shoots. Feel like I've been around the whole of London ten times over.'' he sighed.

''Shoots?'' She looked up at him as she cut a slice of lemon cake.

''Yeah, like video shoots.'' He paused, his cheeks flushing a bit red. ''Like Youtube. I do Youtube.''

Y/N had never met a YouTuber. Sure, she'd seen a few videos over the years, her comfort watch being a classic Zoella vlog, but that was the extent of it. She much rather indulge in reality TV—'a true brain rotter', her mum would always say.

''Oh wow. That's very cool,'' she said genuinely, placing two boxes in front of the man.

He smiled and said, "That's nice of you to say. I usually get the classic 'Does that even pay well?' sort of response. ''

''Well, does it?'' she let out a small laugh, ''Only joking.''

Y/N felt proud of herself at that moment. The small talk wasn't as awful as she thought it'd be. The idea of her singing and him having an agonising headache all weekend had gone out of her head.

''Pays well enough for me to treat myself to a slice of lemon cake and a chocolate cupcake, if that's what you're asking.'' he laughed back. ''How much do I owe you?''

Usually, Y/N would have lapped up any chance to make some more cash, but considering she was serving the same neighbour she had been supposedly keeping up with all weekend with her own renditions of 'The Winner Takes It All', she thought she'd be nice.

''It's on the house.''

''You sure?'' he said, holding the two boxes in one hand and his backpack in the other.

''Of course.'' she smiled. ''Long day and all.''

''Well, thank you, then,'' he smiled. ''I'll see you around then; have a nice weekend.”

''You too,bye,'' she watched as he walked towards the door. She turned her back, picking up the cloth she had once thrown in haste, and began to clean again.

''Oh, actually,'' The voice began, and she realised he hadn't left yet. ''Did you manage to talk to my neighbour yet? Just the racket hasn't stopped since.''

She could have died on the spot. He was so dramatic. Since their little incident, she had toned it down on the ABBA tunes, stoically sticking to singing in the shower and the occasional hum of a tune as she cooked dinner—nothing outrageous.

''No, I haven't seen them yet.'' she lied.

''Right, okay. Well, I'll be off then,'' he settled. ''Also, before I go, I just want to say sorry for being short with you the other day; you just caught me at a bad time.''

She smiled. So maybe he wasn't as rude as he came across the first time they met.

''No worries, all forgotten'' she said. Lie, as if she'd ever forget that moment.

He gave her an odd thumbs up, and she watched him as he walked out of the shop, turning left momentarily and then stopping at his front door to unlock it.

'The racket hasn't stopped' She thought of his words. What a load of rubbish. If anyone had the right to complain about noise, it was her with his deafening screams that she now assumed had something to do with the whole 'Youtuber thing' and not to forget his god-awful drum and bass.

Even though he had apologised for their first meeting, Y/N sort of wished she hadn't given him those free treats now.

✩ ✩ ✩

The weekend passed with Y/N enjoying her days off, and luckily her days off were silent; there was no loud noise from next door. Y/N had seen no more of the 'noisy Youtuber' she was now referring to him as. She had wished she had gotten his name so she could have done some stalking or at least come up with a reason for all the shouting. She thought he must have been one of those crazy gaming channels.

Monday came around quickly after the weekend, a quiet day for Y/N. She'd get a few people on their work journey in for an Americano or the occasional little old lady to come in for a morning cup of tea, but that was about it. It was a slow day. But Y/N didn't mind; it meant she could do all the tasks that she had left from the week before—a little bit of admin, ordering new coffee beans, replacing any damaged cups—all that sort of thing.

She ran the cafe solely by herself, and while sometimes it felt like she was in over her head, it was also very peaceful. She was her own boss and also had no one to boss around, which she loved because she was very bad at telling people what to do - a bit shy in that aspect.

She had just finished serving an old lady a slice of carrot cake when she heard the door chime. In waltzed her noisy neighbour. For fuck sakes, not again.

He walked in, the sunlight from outside dancing upon his tousled blonde locks, casting what almost looked like a golden halo around his head. His cheeks were flushed and his face was shiny; he must have been coming from the gym.

Clad in a blue and white hoodie adorned with bold red lettering, he exuded effortless athleticism. Y/N thought if she hadn't been so hindered by his presence, she might actually fancy him. The way the fabric hugged his toned body, accentuating the contours of his chiselled frame, There was no denying that he was an attractive man.

As he moved closer to the counter, Y/N let out an exhale—a breath she didn't even realise she had been holding.

''Hello again.'' he smiled, placing a medium-sized box on the counter. She hadn't even realised he was holding anything when he entered the shop; too busy staring at his face.

''Hi.'' She smiled back at him, surprised she'd managed to even get any words out. ''What can I get for you?''

''Oh, nothing today,'' he paused. '',though the food the other day was amazing, honestly, no complaints. ''

''I'm glad.'' she grinned. She knew her baked goods were delicious, but hearing it from other people was always lovely.

''It's just that I got a parcel delivered to mine, but I think it's actually meant for my neighbour. I rang their doorbell, but they didn't answer.'' His eyes narrowed, looking at the name on the front of the parcel.

''Oh, right.'' she said. Shit, shit, shit. That's all that was going around in her mind. It's her bloody parcel, and he's got it.

''Yeah, I was just wondering if you had a way to get a hold of them. Says the name on the front is Y/N.''

She was screwed. Absolutely screwed. He knew her name. Well, he knew the name of his neighbour, but he didn't know that that same name belonged to her. All it took now was for one of her regulars to come through the doors shouting 'Afternoon, Y/N' and her cover was blown. She was truly fucked, she thought.

Y/N wasn't even sure herself at this point why she was so desperate for him to not know that it was her living next door to him. Maybe it was the fact that he had heard her sing every 80's song known to man in one weekend, but it can't have been because she'd heard him sing equally worse over the last few weeks. Sure, she had even heard his numerous shouts that still startled her; God knows what he was up to in there. But still, despite all that, she felt embarrassed at the thought of telling him now that she was the girl next door. It had gone too far now.

''I haven't heard anything from them in a while. Maybe they're on holiday,'' she lied further.

''No, I don't think so,'' his face screwed in a look of concentration as he tried to come up with something plausable as to what his'mystery neighbour' was up to. '' I heard them singing again last night. They're definitely about.''

''Oh, that's strange, then.'' The lie just kept going; she couldn't stop. She was in too deep.

''I'll have to try again later, I suppose.'' She wasn't going to answer if he came ringing her doorbell later. She couldn't even remember what she had ordered at this rate, but all she knew was that whatever was in that box was not worth the humiliation that she'd feel if her lie was exposed.

''I guess so.'' she paused. ''You sure I can't get you anything while you're here?''

He pondered for a second, his eyes scanning the menu hung up on the wall. Various coffees, teas, matcha, and cakes ''Actually, I'll take a chamomile tea if that's alright.''

''Coming right up,'' she smiled.

She moved behind the counter, grabbing a stainless steel jug to fill up with hot water. She could feel his eyes on her as she took a blue disposable cup, placing it in front of him. A little wooden spoon was placed on the side too.

Once the hot water had filled the jug, she took out a chamomile tea bag, placing it in the cup and pushing the tray towards him.

''There you go. That's two pounds when you're ready.'' she said, tapping two pounds and holding the card reader towards him.

He tapped his card and lifted the cup that held his chamomile tea on it with one hand, the box in the other.

''Thank you.'' he said. ''Hopefully, I'll see you later when you can get hold of my neighbour.''

''I'll keep you updated.'' She smiled back, the most unconvincing smile she'd probably ever made.

As he left, Y/N felt herself sink into the counter, her head hanging down. What was she going to do?

✩ ✩ ✩

The weeks passed in a blur for Y/N, each day blending into the next as she worked tirelessly to keep her cafe running smoothly. But no matter how hard she tried to push the thought to the back of her mind, the truth of her situation lingered in the back of her mind, a constant reminder of the lie she was living.

It wasn't until one fateful day, when her noisy neighbour walked through the door of her cafe, that she realised she could no longer keep up the facade.

''Morning.'' he grinned, stepping through the door, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of Y/N behind the counter.

''Hi.'' she replied, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her chest. ''What can I get for you?''

''Actually,'' he smiled. ''I was wondering if you'd managed to get hold of my neighbour yet?''

Y/N felt her heart sink at his words, a wave of guilt washing over her. She knew that she couldn't keep lying to him and that she had to come clean about who she really was.

''Actually,'' she said, her voice trembling slightly. ''I am your neighbour .''

He stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. ''You're joking, right?'' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

''No, I'm serious.'' she replied, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pounding heart. ''I'm the one who's been causing all the noise.''

Her neighbour's shock quickly turned to amusement as he burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty cafe. ''You're having me on.'' he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ''All this time, I thought it was some crazy person living up there.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''But you're one to talk; don't think there's a day that's gone by where I haven't heard you shouting.''

He laughed, holding his hands up in defeat. ''That is fair; I'm sorry as well.''

She smiled, and a sense of relief washed over her. He wasn't angry that she'd dragged her silly lie out for the past few weeks. And if anything, it was amusing to her too—the pair were both as loud as each other, complaining about the other's noise - a pair of idiots.

'''Honestly, I should have guessed it was you sooner.'' her neighbour said, still chuckling to himself. ''With your little cafe here, I never see you leave.''

''Home and work all rolled into one.'' she smiled.

A silence came over the two, and Y/N couldn't tell if it was awkward or not. But the truth was finally out. There was no dancing around her little lies anymore. All the awkwardness was gone.

He broke the silence. ''Well, now that we've got that sorted, where do we go from here?''

''I mean, a proper introduction on my part is probably needed,'' she laughed. ''I'm Y/N, but you knew that already, sort of?''

A smile tugged on the corners of his face. ''Good to put a face to the name.'' he paused. ''I'm Harry.''

Finally a name, Y/N thought.

Harry. Harry, her noisy neighbour.

-

a/n: thanks for reading!!! part two out soon!!! split up my writing into parts so it's not too long to read. hope u all enjoyed. bit of a slow burn but more to come!!! xxx

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

[starkwlkr]

celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

#barbenheimer series #cillian murphy series #cillian murphy one shot #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy

[thetriumphantpanda]

Letting Off Steam

One Day I'll Fly Away - Chapter Two

Chapter Summary | A call from home makes you wish that all of this would go away, but until it does, you make it your mission to annoy Joel Miller as much as you can.

Word Count | 3.5k

Pairing | Joel Miller x Princess F!Reader 

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of alcohol, the British Royal Family, extreme wealth, food and eating, as well as mentions of body image issues and implied infidelity. Joel is grumpy as always, Miss Scandal is pushing his buttons. The sheep gang up on Joel. Joel is a typical man and can't help but take one (1) look at the princess' backside. Reader has very little description apart from her clothing. No outbreak-AU, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this. I'm still SO excited by these two and their story and things will be hotting up soon, I promise! If you liked this then please consider commenting, reblogging and screaming along with me in my ask box!

Please note that I no longer use tag lists - please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Kofi | Series Playlist

A bowl sits on the edge of the desk, full of peaches, sitting in the sliver of sunlight that filters through the window, warming the fuzzy skin. You reach down, pluck the fruit from the top of the bowl and rub your thumbs over the skin, warm and soft. Bringing it to your mouth, you drag your teeth through the softness of the flesh, savouring the sweetness as it floods your mouth, but even warmed in the sun like they are, this peach still doesn’t taste like the one you ate at the farm, plucked only moments ago from the tree, sun warmed and sweet.

You’ve barely finished the fruit when the phone at the side of the bed rings. It makes you close your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose, and you think about ignoring it - there are very few people who know where you are, the Palace for one, on their insistence considering it was their security detail keeping an eye on you, your parents for another, but you doubt it’s them considering the shame you’ve apparently brought to their door. Tossing the stone in the bin, you walk the few steps to the phone and pick it up, but you don’t say anything, a trick you’d since learnt since the first headlines hit - remain silent, listen for a small click and wait to see who talks first.

“Texas looks like fun.”

There’s a wave of comfort that falls over your shoulders at the voice coming through the receiver. You check the watch on your wrist, calculating the time difference between Austin and London, shaking your head a little.

“Are you awake early, or up late?”

“You know me,” The voice chuckles a little, “Never one to turn down a party, and George was hosting at Claridge’s.”

“How many people took your photo?” You ask, sitting down on the bed.

“Oh honey, I’m going to splashed across every single newspaper come morning,” He laughs, “Throngs of them at the door and I’m sure someone has already sold the pictures of me drinking champagne from the bottle, stood on the table with some random woman holding onto my arm.”

You let your fingers tangle in the spiral cord, you know exactly what he’s doing, trying his best to make a scene wherever he goes in the hopes it drags the attention off you for just a moment. God, he’d always been the best friend you’d ever had. Sam. The only man who you think has ever cared for you.

“How is Texas?” You hear him ask, tone a little more clipped now.

“It’s…” You start with a sigh, “Fine.”

“I see they managed to catch you at dinner the other night,” You can hear some clattering in the background and the sound of liquid pouring, his nightcap no doubt, “Have they swarmed you?”

“I don’t think so,” You offer, “Not that I’ve noticed anyway, although now one paper knows I’m here it’s only a matter of time.”

“Any local talent?”

“Shut your mouth,” You laugh, “I’m here to escape the drama, not cause more of it.”

“So there is local talent!” He barks down the phone, “Go on, spill!”

Your mind flits to yesterday. To Joel Miller. The way he’d looked at you with contempt, clearly completely uncaring about etiquette, completely uncaring about you in general, and you understood. Small town, used to the small town dynamics day-in, day-out, about to be uprooted when the worlds media found out you were here. It only seemed to spur you on, much like everything in your life had. When your husband had turned his cheek to you and flashed his sparkly eyes at the girl sat to his left, that was a challenge you weren’t about you lose, and look where that got you. A scarlet letter, the words whore and slut banded around like they meant nothing. There was something in the way Joel Miller, with his rough and dirty hands, had looked at you like you were nothing but another customer that set you on fire in the worst way.

“It’s nothing,” You insist to Sam down the phone, “I think we exchanged less that four sentences with each other and I’m sure he already hates me for upsetting the small-town equilibrium.”

“It all starts somewhere.”

There’s a moment of silence, where the two of you just sit and listen to each other breathe. It’s a comfort, to know there’s at least one person on the other side of that ocean that still cares for you in some way, it’s just a shame he got caught up in the storm of shit along with you, but if it had to be someone, you’re glad it was him.

“I miss you.” You speak first.

“I miss you too, princess,” You can hear the smile in his voice, “It’ll all blow over eventually,” He soothes, “And then you can come back and George can host at The Savoy in celebration.”

You laugh at that, reminisce about all the parties you used to go to together, the harmless trouble you’d find yourself in more often than not, “Go to bed.” You insist.

“Yes, ma’am,” And you can perfectly picture the salute he’s just done on the other end of the phone, “Go and find your local talent.”

He’s hung up before you can argue with him, so you set the receiver back down on the handset, sit on the bed for a while, chin. resting on your palm, before you decide what to do. You lean your head out of the door and find Rob sitting in a chair at the end of the hall, when he notices you, he perks up a little.

“Can you drive me back to the farm from yesterday?”

Joel doesn’t really know why he does it, sat over his morning coffee, black and bitter, but there’s an itch in his fingers, so he pulls out his phone, slips on his glasses and opens up the Google app. He can hear Ellie laughing at him as he types with one finger, slowly typing her name into the search bar. He gets halfway through her first name when a slew of suggested searches pop up - the first one is her name followed by the word scandal. The next replaces scandal with affair. The further down he looks, the more pathetic the searches get, replacing the last word he reads with things like weight, depression and even nudes.

He sighs, shakes his head and just finishes writing her name before he hits the enter button. At the top of the Google page of results there’s a few images - one of her at her wedding, linked arm in arm with her ex-husband, smiles on both their faces. There’s one of her shaking the hand of some foreign dignitary, smiling as she does, and then another, grainy, clearly taken at night, as she sits at a restaurant with a man that isn’t her husband.

Joel knows the story, it was splashed across enough of his morning papers for him not to miss it. An affair with another man, caught red-handed talking to him on the phone about things Joel would rather not remember reading. There’s a part of him that feels sorry for her, that someone had managed to tap her phone and listen to her for long enough to catch her in the act, but he thinks more that it serves her right for being unfaithful. There isn’t a smile dazzling enough or a tip big enough from her that would make him think otherwise.

As much as he hates to admit it, he spends far too much of his morning reading about you on his phone. There’s an article he finds that tracks your ‘rise and fall’ as the British tabloid put it. There are dates, followed by photos and a little blurb for each moment in your life - from meeting the Prince at university, the whirlwind romance, the engagement, the wedding, the gossip about when you would start popping out children, right down to the photo they took of you running onto the plane to escape - grey English skies, some man holding an umbrella over your head to keep you dry as you turned your face from the cameras. He thinks it a little tragic really.

When he finally drags his attention back to the watch on his wrist, he sighs. The sheep are going to have his guts for making them wait for their food, and he can’t pick the peaches off the tree fast enough to stop the vast majority on them falling off and rotting on the ground. He downs the last of his cold coffee now, puts the mug in the sink and turns to head to his truck when he hears the telltale sound of the gravel on his drive crunching under wheels.

Joel takes a few steps towards the window and sees the same car as yesterday. You can’t possibly have run out of peaches already and there's no way his fruit would have rotted either, so he can feel his eyebrows furrow at what on earth you could want now.

By the time he makes his way to the porch, you’re already out of the car, taking small steps back and forth as you’re waiting for him. That makes his blood boil, that even though he doesn’t know you and certainly aren’t obligated for him to drop everything for you, you still expect it, and it makes his blood boil even more that he sequesters to it, walks out onto the porch like an obedient dog.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

You flash that smile from yesterday at him again, one he’s pretty sure has managed to get you exactly what you wanted every single day of your life. It’s not that different to the smile Sarah used to give - sometimes still does, even now she’s grown.

“Well, I was just wondering if you’d show me around?” You ask, “Visiting farms was never my role back home but I’m fascinated to see how things work.”

Joel takes a look at you, a long look up and down and he worries for a second that it looks like he’s checking you out, but he’s just fascinated by how your brain works, that you’ve turned up to his dusty ranch in the middle of Texas in long white slacks, sandals and a white vest - he lets a snort leaves his nose and he shakes his head slight, “Ain’t exactly dressed for ranching, Princess.”

He watches as you shrug, letting your fingers grip at the hem of your vest, holding it up slightly so he can see a slip of skin underneath, “This old thing?” You say, “I don’t mind if it gets dirty.”

“It ain’t your shirt I'm worried about,” He points to your shoes, “You’ll break your neck walking around in those.”

Joel watches intently as you look down at your feet - perfectly pedicured toes peeking out from the hem of your trousers, “You don’t have anything I can borrow?” You ask softly, then, “I’m going out of my mind cooped up in that hotel room.”

For a second, he considers saying no. He doesn’t want you here, not really, you’re just going to become an even bigger pain in the ass if he lets you hang around, and he has no interest in getting caught up in whatever it is you’ve got going on, but the softness in your voice makes him crumble a little. He knows that if he were resigned to four walls he’d be going crazy too.

So he rolls his eyes, and disappears into the house, roots around on the shoe rack until he finds Ellie’s beat up boots, it’s the best he’s got, knowing by the look of her that they’re probably going to be a little tight. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he runs upstairs and grabs a pair of his thinnest socks - he certainly doesn’t want to be responsible for giving the princess blisters.

“Put these on,” He’s gruff with it as he hands them over, “Probably a bit small bit it’s all I got.”

He watches intently as you slip your sandals off slowly and hand them over to the man who gets out of the car and follows you everywhere. You struggle to get the boots on but eventually they end up on your feet. He can’t help that his eyes wander to your backside when you stand up, Texas dust settled on the creased of your trousers.

“If you’re comin’ with me you gotta do exactly what I say, when I say it, understood?”

You bring two fingers up to your temple and salute him, “Yes, sir.”

Joel's ranch is huge, is the first thing you realise. There’s an expansive orchard full of his famous peach trees that he drives you up to first. He’s silent, brooding in the drivers seat, scowl across his face. You can’t help but bring your hand up, settling your pointer finger into your mouth and biting down to stop your laughter from bubbling up and over.

He pulls the truck up at one edge of the orchard and steps out so you follow behind him. You meet him at the back of the truck as he reaches over and picks up a stack of wooden crates - the same ones you’ve taken back with you the last few times, overflowing with fruit. He hands the stack to you, which you take.

“You’re gonna earn your keep if you’re gonna annoy me.”

You chuckle, “Sure thing,” You say, following behind him as he walks towards the first tree, “I’m not work shy, you know.” You call after him, running slightly behind him to catch up.

“Course not,” He grumbles, “Years of shakin’ hands is great work experience for this.”

You roll your eyes, setting the stack of crates on the ground, deciding it’s probably best to let him say what he wants - it’s nothing you haven’t heard before anyway.

“This is easy,” He starts, gripping one of the lower branches of the tree, pulling it down so it’s in your eyeline, “Grip the fruit in your palm and twist it until it comes off.”

You do as he says, letting the bottom of the fruit sit in your palm, delicate fingers gripping at the sides, and you twist gently, feeling the branch tighten and the a snap when the fruit comes free in your palm.

“Just like that,” Joel muses, “Now just put it in the crate and move onto the next.”

You continue like that for a while, Joel pulling the branches down so you can pluck the fruit off and into the crate, until the first tree is bare as far as you can reach and you have a crate full of peaches.

“How do you get the fruit from the top?” You ask, raking a hand over your forehead to try and get rid of the sweat that’s gathering there.

He doesn’t reply, he merely steps closer to you, puts one of his palms against your stomach and pushes you gently back out of the way, then he turns around, puts both hands on the trunk of the tree and gives it a shake. You laugh as some of the fruit from the top tumbles down and hits the ground.

“If it ain’t falling then it ain’t ready.” Joel murmurs, starting to bend over to pick up the fruit from the ground to put it into another crate.

Joel leaves you to it from there, moving onto his own tree so you can divide and conquer, but somewhere around the third crate that you fill, your interest wanes. You can hear soft bleating coming from near the barn that you can see in the distance, so you walk that way, leaving Joel and the peaches behind for what sounds like something much more interesting.

When Joel stands up from his filled crate and looks around, you’re nowhere to be found. Panic sinks in. You’d insisted that whoever was looking after you didn’t have to come with, that Joel looked more than capable of looking after you for a few hours, and now he had no fucking clue where you were. That would make a mighty fine headline in any newspaper.

He rushes back to the truck, hand resting on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun when he spots you - a white silhouette stood in a mass of his sheep. God fucking damn it, he thinks, abandoning the crates of fruit to get into his truck to drive over to you.

“What the hell’a you doin?” He calls out of the window when he pulls up near to you.

You turn around, one hand resting on the head of one of his sheep who seems to be enjoying the attention, “I just wanted to know what the noise was,” You shrug, “I’ve never touched a sheep before.”

“Will you-” He sighs, slinging open the truck door, “Get away from them, they’re dirty.”

You look down at the sheep that’s leant against your lower leg, tipping its head so you scratch it again, “Did you hear what he just said about you?” You ask the animal, who he swears looks right at him and bleats, “Exactly, he’s not very nice is he?”

He spots another sheep heading straight for you just a little too late to catch it before it’s reaching up with it’s teeth to take hold of the hem of your shirt. It tugs a little, not enough to do any damage, but enough to make you lose your balance a little. Joel steps forward, his muscle memory kicking in from all the times Sarah and Ellie had been in this exact predicament, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady, whilst his other hand waves to make the sheep move away.

When he’s sure you’re not at risk of toppling into the dusty ground, he looks down at you, slightly tilted in the way he caught you so you’re looking up at him, wide-eyed, one of your arms fisting at the flannel to keep yourself steady. He coughs, clears his throat and lets you go like you’d just burned him.

“They’re unpredictable,” He chastises, “You’ll get hurt if you wander off like that.”

“Sorry.” Is all you say, but he feels like it’s genuine, “Why sheep?” You ask to his back as he walks away.

“They’re quiet, and they do what they’re told.”

There’s a brown stain on your pristine white shirt now, to match the dust that had settled across your backside from earlier, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he turns back towards the truck, pristine little princess getting herself all dirty on his ranch. He shakes his head, banishing any thought that isn’t his distaste for the way you’re going to continue uprooting everything with your presence, motioning his head for you to get into the other side.

The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch, you help him with the feeding and finish picking the rest of the peaches. He lets you eat one of the fruit on the way back to his house, listening as you slurp at the juices.

“Well, thank you for that,” You say as you get down from the truck, “It’s so interesting to see how things work.”

“You’re welcome,” He grumbles, not sure he can say the same, “Hey, wait!” He calls as you start walking away.

He picks up a crate of peaches from the truck, walks it over to you and plops it into your open arms, wordlessly walking back to pick up another.

“Is this my payment?” You ask, with a smirk on your face.

“No,” He says simply, “It’s you finishing a job, that first crate is for Nancy at the hotel, don’t steal any, you hear me?” You nod in understanding, “And this is for the grocery store in town.”

“So I’m a delivery girl now, am I?”

“Too right Princess,” He’s got a smile on his face now, but it’s not unkind, “You wanted to see how things work, you’ve gotta do it all.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but there’s a laugh at the end of it too as he walks you back to the car. Rob steps out, clearly questioning you with his expression.

“Looks like we’ve got a delivery to make, gentlemen.”

#Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #the last of us smut #Joel Miller the last of us #Joel Miller tlou #Joel tlou #Joel the last of us #Joel Miller au #ODIFA

[mia-ugly]

In honour of Good Omens Season 2

HAVE A SLOW SHOW FICLET with thanks to @weatheredlaw for the amazing graphic ❤️❤️❤️ how we doing fam

It’s a kid on set that first tells him. 

Not really a kid, but anyone less than thirty seems a kid to him these days (ugh, that’s a loathsome thought.) Jiyana’s a queer and pink-haired punk type, rainbow pin on their jacket, trans-pride flag tattooed on their inner wrist. The first time he met them, the whole wirey confident glittery thing made his gut clench with - what was it - joy and gratitude but also envy? Maybe? (because what must it be like to be that young and that certain of yourself? What must it be like to have the whole world open in front of you? Not that there still isn’t a lot of shit to deal with, and in Merry Old fucking England there is More Shit than Otherwise, but. Still. It’s something Crowley thinks about. Sometimes. When he hasn’t had enough sleep or when he’s had too much of it.)

The kid came up to him Day One to mumble about “being a big fan” and once they wore a Warlock t-shirt to an afterparty (“Vintage!” they said cheerily, and Crowley wanted to swallow his own face at the thought of something from the 2010s being considered vintage, good Christ.)

Anyway, Jiyana tells him first.

“Congrats on the new season!” They’re beside him in the makeup trailer. Crowley doesn’t realise they’re talking to him, assumes they’re wearing AirPods or something, until George gives him a nudge with the powder puff.

“Er, yeah, cheers.” It’s too early to talk to anyone this perky. Then his exhausted, coffee-less brain takes a moment to catch up with his exhausted, coffee-less mouth. “Er, wait, what?”

“Warlock. Heard it’s coming back. Did I tell you I wrote a paper on it in, like, Grade 10? So cool, the GSA at my highschool used to have watch parties, I can’t wait to see what they do with your -“

“Wait -“ Warlock? It’s been bloody years. “Where’d you hear this?”

The kid starts to list off some sites or social media whatsits that Crowley has never heard of, so he just nods and pretends to understand, the same way he does when Az’s niece tries to explain some show called “Jojo’s Big Adventure” or something. Validate, validate, empathise. Just like Pepper taught him.

It’s probably nothing right? A rumour.

But it’s a rumour Az has heard too.

When Crowley gets home that night (they’ve rented a house in Buckinghamshire, even though the studio’s not two hours from their cottage) Az is on him immediately. Heard about it from his sister apparently, who got the news from one of the kids.

“Isn’t that exciting?” His face is all lit up and his hair is wet, bathrobe snugly belted around his waist. The house has an indoor pool, and there are little indents on Avery’s nose where his extremely attractive and sexy swimming-goggles must have been resting.

Crowley presses his lips to each mark.

“Not that we’ve been going hungry or wanting for work –” Az continues.

“You work too bloody much,” Crowley murmurs into his cheekbone.

“But I do love those characters. The whole thing wrapped up so nicely though – what more is there to tell?  I wonder what the arc could possibly be.”

“I wonder what you’ve got on under this robe –”

“Anthony!” Az laughs in fake protest, tilting his head back so that Crowley can get his mouth on his throat. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Az tastes like chlorine, and maybe Crowley should join him in the shower after this. After a day in the studio, he could probably use it.

“Would you really want to do a series again?” Crowley asks after he’s finally let his husband go, turned to hang up his coat and thrown his bag on the nearest chair. “Awful lot of commitment. And you’ve that whole run at the Globe coming up, don’t rehearsals start in the spring?”

“We’ll have to see if Helen can mind the goats again while we’re in London.” Az has wandered into the kitchen, turned on the kettle. Crowley looks at the back of his neck (Crowley always looks at the back of his neck. Sometimes he dreams about it.) “If she’s free. I called her this morning to check in, Elmyra’s eating, so her anxiety must be getting better.”

“Cool, yeah,” Crowley says, casual and nonchalant and no big deal. As if Elmyra isn’t his favourite of the bunch and he doesn’t have a song that he made up and no one knows that he sings just to her. As if he didn’t hand feed her all night once because she wasn’t sleeping or eating and neither was he because he was so afraid this tiny rescue goat was going to starve to death, anyway whatever, super cool, who cares. “Is it weird that no one’s reached out to us, though? Do you think?”

“About the goats? Helen has my number –”

“No love, the Warlock thing.”

Az blinks at him, flutters his pretty blond lashes in an attractive, aggrieved sort of way. “You mean you haven’t heard from Beez?”

“I haven’t heard from anyone.”

“Oh.” Az thinks it over. “Well. Neither have I, actually. Do you – is that odd?”

“Maybe they’ve recast us with younger models.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Gotta up the sex appeal of the whole thing. Jawlines. Cheekbones. Sexy results.”

“I –” Az goes a bit pink. Glances at Crowley and then away. “Fail to see how they could improve upon perfection.”

Crowley looks at his husband’s bathrobe and the slight scattering of silver chest hair and his hand on his tea cup and fuck off, his neck. His neck, his neck, who gives a shit about Warlock actually?

 “Come over here and say that to my mouth.”

Avery smiles, and sighs, and he does.

ONE YEAR LATER:

Crowley opens the email from Beez.

He fuckin' closes it.

#a slow dumb show for you #slow show #good omens fanfic #fic what i wrote #good omens

[pixiesfz]

Okay brutal to be hit with the transfer news and the angst… any chance you want to make a part 2 with a little “reunion” 👀 either reader transferring to a different NWSL team or maybe going to see Jessie since the WSL and NWSL are on breaks at different times, or just any happy redemption, I’m already hurting from the transfer and want some happiness

I am back from my holiday.

this may be a three-part series idk if I can restore their relationship this quickly.

hey there? j.f

plot: a year later you transfer to Gotham after not getting enough game time at Chelsea and you run into Jessie.

warning: angst

You sat on your mattress in your apartment with your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Are you regretting it?" Sam asked as she sat next to you, Millie at the door leaning on the frame with her arms crossed.

You sniffed and wiped your nose, trying to stop your overthinking "no I know it's better for me” you declared as they both nodded “But I really am going to miss you guys" you admitted and Sam wrapped her arm around you "well if it makes you feel better you're already being forced to see us two more times for me and Mil's weddings" she shrugged.

"Does me moving affect my chance at best man?" you asked Sam who laughed "Oh c'mon you know you had that role in the bag" you laughed, leaning into her embrace.

"You'll do great at Gotham, they've offered you starting eleven and full 90 minute games plus, you've got some friends in the NWSL" Millie shrugged and you looked at her "I wouldn't call her my friend"

"It's been a year y/n/n you both have to talk about it and plus Sinclair loves you so much she'll go behind Jessie's back to help you out." You laughed at your friends very true comment.

"Kristie may have also threatened to hurt any of the Gotham girls if they mistreat you"

"Kristie!"

After that day Niamh volunteered to drive you to the Airport, there was silence. You and Niamh had become less close after Jessie told her what had happened but she soon figured out why you did it after the third match after she left, you had scored a goal and usually you would celebrate with Jessie.

Niamh watched your eyes gloss over when you turned around and remembered that the Canadian was gone. Niamh always stayed in contact with Jessie as the two were peas in a pod.

"does she know?" you asked softly in the car and Niamh nodded "She asked me if it was true and I said yes" Niamh told you and you looked out the window "what uhm- what did she say?"

"Y/n-" "I know" you cut her off "I'm sorry" you apologized, you couldn't dive into their conversations like that.

"She said that she missed you"

You sunk into your seat at your friends' words "Yeah well I miss her too".

You sat in your airplane seat in first class shortly after bidding Niamh goodbye, trying to get comfortable so that you could sleep but your mind was running about Jessie.

You had seen the comments that were left under your post where you had announced your leaving.

'is she moving for Jessie'

'finally her and Jessie will be reunited'

You rolled your eyes at the comments and turned off your phone.

You tried to sleep through the flight, waking up every now and then to go to the toilet.

When you finally landed you weren’t expecting anyone to pick you up but when you saw Christine Sinclair with a piece of paper that read your last name with a childish grin on her face you knew one of your friends from London had tipped her off.

You hugged her tightly when you saw her “I missed you y/n/n” she smiled and rubbed your head “I missed you too Chris” you sniffed and she grabbed your shoulders “excited to be in the NWSL?” She asked and you smiled

“A new challenge will be good” you shrugged and you began to walk to her car “Chelsea not doing you justice?”

“They like their new and shiny toys”

Christine smirked as she opened her trunk, you put in your luggage and jumped in the front seat.

“I don’t think I’ve driven you around since I had to pick you up from Jessie’s hotel room in friendlies” she joked and you turned your head.

Christine watched as you looked out the window “she told me what happened” she said and you looked at her “you don’t hate me?” You asked.

“Would I be here if I was”.

She smiled at you to ensure you that she did not in fact have a hatred for you “actually it made me respect you more even though I dealt with a heartbroken Jessie”

“I did what was best for her”

“Was it best for you?”

You shook your head “going to Gotham is best for me” you said and she nodded “I have a small confession to make” Christine said and you furrowed your brows “what?”

“I may have also sent Jessie to your house to help set you up”

You shot up in your seat.

You were not ready to see Jessie right now.

“Christine!”

“I’m sorry but we should just rip off the bandaid, I don’t want your first meeting back to be on the pitch” she defended as you both pulled in to your new house where another car was.

Jessie’s car.

Christine opened her side of the door and walked out to your side, tapping on you window which you rolled down slightly.

“Are you going to get out?”

“No”.

Christine rolled her eyes and unlocked the car door herself opening it and forcibly dragging you out of the car, you hoped Jessie wasn’t looking back.

“Does Jessie know it’s my house?” You asked as you walked to her car “I’m pretty sure it’s best if I don’t tell you that”.

You took a deep breath as you saw Jessie get out of her car “hey you said that-“ she started but stopped when she saw your figure next to her teammate.

“Hey there” you said softly and Jessie stood in her spot next to her car “hey” she muttered.

“Cool let’s go!” Christine clapped her hands together before making her way to your front door as you and Jessie still stood looking at each other.

#woso #woso x reader #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #jeff #jflem

[linddzz]

Here an assortment of Facts About Morpheus in the Red Flags AU. Where I'm starting to lean more towards the version where they meet and are already into each other before the ""Fake Date"" Incident:

-Jessamy is the raven he took care of when he found her injured outside of his townhome. He now has a room with a window he often keeps open for her to fly into whenever she feels like it. I don't know how legal any of this is in London but tbh it doesn't matter because he also does not know what the laws are and doesn't care.

- His townhome is very dark maximalist in decor, which tends to surprise people at first. There are houseplants and little statues all over, and the walls are hidden behind millions of bookshelves. There is an art studio room and books scattered everywhere. Very recently, hypothetical visitors would notice a lot of child locks and child proofed areas that have a bit of a panicked "I bought every safety thing in the store bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing" energy to them.

- He has a therapist. Yes, the Morpheus that Hob meets is the upgraded version who is actually working on himself already. This is what the improved personal growth version of Morpheus is like.

Anyway, said therapist is Gilbert F. Greene. Because Morpheus going head to head with an unstoppable force of old timey adorable optimism who will also not take his shit is delightful. Dr. Greene insists on going by first names and Morpheus always makes "Gilbert" sound like a slur in retaliation. Some conversations I imagine include:

"Good morning Gilbert, you will never guess who had what you might call a """relapse into self destructive behaviors"""" last night."

"I am very sorry to hear that my dear boy. Let me say though, that I am so very proud of you for calling me! That is a phenomenal step for you and it's wonderful that you are being proactive in your recovery."

"Don't patronize me Gilbert. I will hang up."

(this ended up being super long so I'm just gonna spare y'all's dash. Warning for some lightly touched on mentions of drug use and self destructive behavior.)

- Him getting a therapist was part of the requirements for gaining visitation rights and then weekend custody once a month with Orpheus. The therapy is actually helping, and he's bitter about that.

- His given name is actually Dream, he goes by his middle name. All the Endless siblings have awful names. Desire goes by Adonai because who calls a fucking child Desire???

When Hob meets the rest of the family, Destiny goes "it's good to see you again, Dream" and Hob begins turning to Morpheus like "lmao who tf is named Dream" only to find Morpheus glaring daggers at his brother.

- The Endless parents are rarely around. Some of the siblings still live in the manor and they all use it for family dinners, but it's common for their parents to be off travelling for years at a time.

- Morpheus is an author and a painter who has a bajillion pen names to go with each genre he writes in, so it's hard to figure out exactly how much he's written. Even before becoming a father though, his face and full name is mostly associated with children's fantasy stories that he illustrates himself, and his Art vs Artist vibe is very Miyazaki.

Him and Calliope collaborated on a series of illustrated poetic translations of ancient epics. Their divorce was exactly as messy as one might imagine the divorce between two passionate artist types might be.

- His downward spiral of self destruction started before the divorce but oh boy did it nosedive during and after.

- When she got pregnant after divorce proceedings had started, there was a moment where they were both meeting with lawyers and one asked something along the lines of if this meant they would try for reconciliation and staying together. Calliope said "no" immediately.

It's not like Morpheus exactly thought they would get back together, but the speed and firmness of that hard "no" had his head screaming with white noise and some badly thought out self medication for months, which ended up being why Calliope got full custody and he is just now able to get more involved with the now two year old Orpheus.

- His rebound with Thessaly was also messy. She was just in it for a fun fling and he was... Morpheus. He found out he got dumped when she informed him she was already in the process of moving back to Greece, and Johanna said he needed to be banned from any more beautiful Greek expats from that day forth.

- No one can figure out what the deal is with him and Lucienne. The simple explanation is they're queerplatonic soul mates. Lucienne's wife Gault thinks they're a bit codependent (not an inaccurate assessment), but is more civil with him since the day she yelled at him to go get an actual therapist instead of constantly putting his shit on Lucienne, and he actually did. (It is unclear if this or Calliope demanding therapy for him to get visitation with Orpheus was his wake up call catalyst, but probably a bit of both.)

- Lucienne was originally a personal assistant. She now works as his editor since she seems to be the only person who can keep track of all the shit he's written. She is also the only person who can get away with critiquing his works in progress without sending him into a fit where he might burn all his manuscripts.

- When Morpheus started mentioning this Gadling guy a lot, Lucienne paid a visit to the pub. Not to do anything so crude as to threaten a man's life if he breaks her sensitive friend's heart. What could she do anyway? No no. She's just here to smile with zero trace of humor and ask some questions while looking him up and down through her spectacles. Hob will later describe this as one of the most pants shitting moments of his life, and he felt like he got transformed back into a primary school kid who talked slightly too loudly in the library.

- Morpheus went through a slutty phase during and shortly after University that was less of a healthy and fun exploration of his sexuality and libido, and a bit more "I will take anyone who will have me in any way they will want me and I know that if nothing else, I'm pretty."

- Him and Johanna used to have a game seeing who could get more free drinks in one night. This had to be put to an end when it turned into the catalyst for at least three screaming fights between them.

Fight subjects were

Quality vs Quantity. Morpheus insists his ability to get people to buy him a single glass of wine that costs £50 beats Johanna's cheap beers. Johanna disagreed. loudly.

Is it cheating when Morpheus ran to the bathroom to smudge on some eyeliner and then stole Johanna's lip gloss? Is it further cheating when Johanna realized that his main method of getting drinks was "act like Adonai"? Accusations that he would ever act like his horrid annoying younger sibling sent Morpheus into an absolute tantrum.

Competitiveness DID overcome sibling rivalry enough for Morpheus to go to Adonai for makeover assistance. This backfired because it made Morpheus hot to the point of intimidating, and Johanna won that night.

- After Hob starts flirting with him, Morpheus goes suspiciously into a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite inspired art era featuring lots of noble knights with dark sunlit hair. A lot of them seem to be lured in by dark haired fae entities all La Belle Sans Merci style. It's disgustingly obvious.

-Therapy has made him juuuuust self aware enough to know that he MAYBE tends to go a bit hard and fast with romance. This makes him a little more cautious with Hob than he usually would be, and he's doing a bit of "Hob is so nice and sweet and interested but I'm gonna mess it up :(((" pining. Everyone around him is fucking sick of it. He is not self aware enough to realize he's still going super hard and fast, but this time he's doing it while sighing sadly and drawing Hob in his sketchbook all the fucking time.

#red flags au #human au #Dreamling #gonna make my pinned masterpost to organize shit later today djdjdksk

[neverinadream]

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Summary: What's a better way to watch horror movies than placing a bet on who will jump first?

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: for @thoseboysinblue

Song Inspo: Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu - The Maine

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, moments of fluff, best friends to lovers, mentions of the reader needing to wear glasses, soft dom!christian but also hints of sub!christian, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...), praise kink, body appreciation, nipple play, grinding, oral (female & male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, spoilers for paranormal activity and talk to me, not edited

Notes: happy halloween whores 🫶🏻 this is a very long one that has taken way too long to write and i apologise that it is being posted later than i normally would post a fic. this idea has changed so much since it was first shared by my lovely mutual/friend. i hope you like it. feedback is always appreciated, especially for a fic as long as this

"Gossip Girl? Again?"

"Stop judging my watch list," Christian huffs, resting his arm on the back of his sofa.

There's a pattern of rom-coms and TV series he had already watched in their entirety, with a sprinkle of recommendations from yourself in there. You fought back a smile knowing he took your recommendations seriously. "Give me your right hand," you request, setting the remote on your lap. He raises his eyebrow but doesn't question it. "Just as I thought," you mumble, nodding your head as you gaze down at his hand, inspecting his palm and scanning the long length of his fingers, "you need to stop abusing this hand and get yourself a girlfriend."

"Oh-" He rips his hand back with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "My dry spell isn't as bad as yours," he makes a good point, welcoming the vanilla and sweet citrus scent that hangs around you as you shuffle closer. Your leg brushes against his and a small smile pinches on the corners of his lips, little butterflies fluttering their wings in the deepest part of his stomach. "When was the last you got laid?"

"Hopefully, this week." You go back to scanning his Netflix account, missing the bridge of his nose turning pink. "Italy is full of gorgeous men," you hum, wrapping your arm around your tummy, caging it underneath as you lean forward.

"Just put your glasses on," he sighs, watching you squint your eyes, "you're making your eyes worse doing that."

You glance over your shoulder. "When did you suddenly change your career?"

He doesn't appreciate your smart mouth, getting up off the sofa in search of them. "It's called being a caring friend," he mumbles, taking one last look at you bent over and leaning forward, before slipping out of his living room.

He hears you call out to him, something about them being in his guest room, but he's already one step ahead of you, opening the bedroom door and taking a step inside. "Don't you mean your room?" He calls back, treading over a pair of heels you had complained about wearing.

Another smile, an even bigger smile, appears as he thinks about last night. Blood stirred and heated his cheeks as he thought about the simple yet beautiful way your dress hugged your body. His skin tingled remember the smell of vanilla and how it clung to every inch of your skin, so much that it made him dizzy. And he swallows a hard breath as he recalls being at the foot of the bed, his thumbs stroking over your soft skin, before unfastening the straps and helping you out of your heels.

"Ha! Nice one!" Your voice cuts him out of the memory.

"It can still be yours!"

You were a freelance animator, recently coming off the success of a short film for some company in London that Christian couldn't remember the name of. It was a dark piece, playing heavily on the tropes of loneliness and trying to find a sense of belonging, told through the POV of a colourless character in a world full of bright colours. Definitely not for children, Christian realised the first time he watched it, wiping away a tear as the credits rolled, a beaming smile on his face as your name flashed on the screen.

It won the company an award, and added a little more attention to your name, making it easier to do the whole "freelance" part of your job description.

It was that part of your job description that Christian used in favour of you moving in with him. Back in London, you were living four streets away from him, and there wasn't a day he didn't go without seeing you. He missed that. Italy was lonely without you.

Everywhere was lonely without you.

Your glasses are sitting on top of your open sketchbook, partially lost under covers, and Christian clears away a cushion, neatly placing it against the pillows. A hedgehog wearing a mask of sorts has been sketched onto the page, with an owl wearing clown makeup sketched on another area of the page, a knife dripping with blood held in its beak. Cute little woodland animals made to look like something from a horror movie. He didn't know if he should be impressed by your talent or shudder from his own dislike of horror movies.

Both, he had decided, grabbing your glasses and leaving the room.

"No."

"What?" Your arm hovers in the air, your hand wrapped around the TV remote, with the 'Horror' section of his Netflix up on the screen. "What's the matter?" You ask, with a coy smile, knowing exactly what his grievance was. If there was one rule for any impromptu movie night, it was no horror movies allowed.

Christian's rule, of course.

You, on the other hand, loved horror movies. The blood. The gore. The old classic slashers. Movies with a budget so low they either become cult classics or a painful ninety minutes. You loved it all. You loved the suspense and the anticipation of waiting for the next jumpscare. The adrenaline that pumped through your veins every time that it happened. It left you feeling more alive than ever.

"We are not, and I can't stress this enough, watching a horror movie."

"I'm not wearing them," you distract him enough to keep flicking through the catalogue. Saw. Don't Breathe. Last Night In Soho. Halloween. You flicked over each one of them, hoping at least one of them would spike your interest. "I hate them," you mumble, ducking and turning your head away from him. He grumbles something about you being stubborn under his breath, his body partially leaning over you as he places his knee on the edge of his sofa. "I don't- Ow!" You gasp, mouth hanging open and head turned up to look at him. "You just poked me in the eye-"

"Because you wouldn't stop moving!"

You readjust your glasses, your head still turned upwards, eyes squinting up at him. "God, is that what you really look like?" He doesn't appreciate your joke, rolling his eyes as you lower your glasses. "Seriously? I should've worn these things the night we met," you continue, adding a second act, "might have thought twice about falling into bed with you."

A deep blush sets on his cheeks, reaching his ears as partial moments of that night come to the forefront of his mind. Hands tracing soft skin. Mouths coming together in feverish exchanges. Him stumbling over his words the next morning, unable to bring himself to ask you if you wanted to get breakfast, settling on remaining as "just friends."

His teammates had even joked that he had fucked his way into the friend zone.

"Give me the remote," he stretches out his hand. You pull your hand into your body, restricting his access to the remote. "You know we have one rule for a movie night: no horror movies."

"Oh, come on," you tease, biting the tip of your tongue, the corners of your mouth turning upwards into a smile, "it's not my fault you're a big scaredy cat."

He rolls his eyes, despite liking the mischievous glint you got in your eyes every time you saw an opportunity to tease him.

"I think I might have to start telling people your tiger tattoo is just a botched job of a sweet, little Tabby, because a real tiger definitely wouldn't shit themselves at the likes of Scary Movie." You point the remote back at the TV, flicking through a subsection of the horror genre until one of them seemed the right fit for tonight's festivities. "It's not even a horror movie. It's a parody!"

"First of all," he reaches back, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn, "I didn't shit myself." He tosses the pieces of popcorn in your direction, the sweet pieces of confection bouncing off your shoulder and your cheek. You pick it up, the tips of your fingers feeling sticky from just one touch, and throw it back at him. He bats it away from him, and you stick your tongue out at him. "It was you who kept purposely making me jump by jabbing your finger into my side."

"I always find it funny how you and I recall events so differently," you mumble, clicking the down button and flicking onto the paranormal section.

"Okay," he talks over you, reaching forward for one of the two beers sitting on his coffee table, "just stick a movie on." He pops the cap off the bottle with a low grunt, flipping it onto the coffee table. It bounces twice, hits the edge of the centrepiece, a decorative glass bowl his parents gave him as a moving away/house warming present, and flips onto the floor. "And just don't pick a super scary one," he mumbles, taking a sip, "I actually want to sleep tonight."

"Scared you're gonna get nightmares?"

"I don't get nightmares."

"No, of course you don't," you shake your head, "you're Mr Captain America! How could you let yourself get scared over something that's not even real?" He rolls his eyes, giving you a soft shove to the side with his elbow. You pluck the brown stained bottle from his hand, noticing the not so subtle way he was watching your lips as you take a sip. "Do I have something on my face?" You ask, the bridge of his nose blushing red. He turns his head away from you, mumbling something under his breath but you didn't catch it. "Sorry?" It was like poking a sleeping bear. "What did you say?"

"Come on," he mumbles, motioning his hand in the direction of his TV.

"Don't rush me," you hiss, catching your tongue between your teeth, the tip poking out from between your lips. It amused him greatly how serious you took picking the movies for movie night, but it was just one of those 'little things' that he loved about you. "You wouldn't want to be rushed whilst taking a penalty, or something."

He pulls a face. "I don't see how those two equate to being the same thing."

"I-Shut up."

You settle on an old favourite: Paranormal Activity.

It was scary enough that you knew Christian would jump a few times, but not scary enough to have him crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. A single creak could be a footstep. Pipes cooling down could be a ghost groaning. Silly tricks of his mind and all enough to scare him into your bed, with his tail tucked between his legs like a scared puppy. If you wanted that, maybe you would've picked something like The Ring or The Blair Witch Project.

"Shouldn't be too scary for you," you tease him, grinning over your shoulder.

———————

"You don't use-" Christian lifts his head from the cushion, his mouth turned down into a frown, his focus turned away from his television and now on you. You had moved to the end of his sofa, moving to give him space to stretch out, with your knees pulled up to your chest, toes wiggling as they sat over the edge. "Are you going to sit there the whole time?" He quizzes, meeting your eyes as you turned to look at him.

"Yes?" You pan down to his body stretched out on the sofa. One knee was pointed to the ceiling, his other leg stretching the length, with his foot tapping against you. It wasn't deliberate, almost like he was still checking to see if you were still there. "Where else am I meant to sit?" You fire back your own question. "For a little guy, you sure know how to take up a lot of room."

"We both know I'm not little," he replies nonchalantly.

"I don't know," you shrug, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling, "it didn't really leave a lasting impression." You giggle, his foot tapping against you deliberately this time. "But, seriously, where else am I meant to sit? On the floor?" You motion in front of you. "On you?"

He grins, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hold back his thoughts, but you roll your eyes like you had read his mind. "Just lie with me," he mumbles, patting his hand against his chest.

"What, and crush you?"

It was now his turn to roll his eyes. "You're not going to crush me."

"I might."

"Do you see me?" He pans his hand down his body. "Do you see this? I can take my shirt off so you can better look-"

"Please don't."

He taps your leg again. "We both know you like me better when I have my shirt off," you avoid his eyes as he teases you like your eyes might deceive you and tell him he was right, "But, c'mon, I'm getting cold over here." He pouts, eyes looking rounder as he tries his best at 'puppy dog eyes.' He grabs at the air. "Please?!"

"You're actually the worst," you mumble, giving in to him, "the worst of the worst." Your bodies become a tangled mess, legs wedged between each other, his thigh half-straddled as you rest your head on his chest. His hand travels down your back, his fingers skimming along the band of skin exposed above your jeans. "Also, I call total bullshit on 'getting cold'," you add, unconsciously tucking your hand under his shirt. Your touch makes his skin tingle.

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, looking down his nose. "Why's that?"

"Because you're perpetually warm."

Christian's attention flickers back and forth between you and the movie, pressing his fingers harder into your skin whenever Katie screams Micah's name, which you didn't mind, even though it would happen a lot. When he wasn't subtly trying to hide the jumping, he was glancing down at you, focusing on the steady and relaxed movement of your breathing. He would half-smile at the way you mumble your reactions under your breath, humming a simple "yes" or "okay" to acknowledge them.

He takes in a deep pull of your scent, closing his eyes as he lets the smell of honey and vanilla wash over him. Everything about you could make him dizzy. From your laugh to your smile. To the way you would always cut your sandwiches into four small squares because it made you think of the nostalgia of the school lunches your mum would make you. But nothing was like that honey and vanilla aroma that managed to stick to you like a second layer of skin.

"You better not be falling asleep, mister!" He grunts as you pinch his hip, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice. "I didn't lie down with you just so you could take a nap," you prop your chin against his chest.

"Then why did you?"

"Like I already said, you're always warm, and your apartment is freezing!"

Our apartment, he thinks to himself, knowing he'll bring the question up once more before you have to leave. "It's not cold," he says instead, tucking his free arm underneath his head, "and I wasn't falling asleep."

You raise your brows. "Yeah? Then what just happened?"

"He's just shown her the quija board and you just commented on them being stupid for using one." Your eyesbrows drop and the corners of his mouth twitch. "See," he gloats, giving the small of your back a soft pinch, "I wasn't falling asleep."

You chew your bottom lip. "I am right though, you should never use a quija board."

"No?"

"No!" You shake your head. "You don't know who you could be communicating with, or what you could be inviting in!" He smiles, making you squint your eyes and frown up at him. "What's that smile for?"

"You've thought about this before, haven't you?"

You turn your head down, mumbling your answer into his chest, using it to hide the embarrassment in your voice. Yes, you had thought about it. You had thought about it multiple times and every time you watched a movie where one would be used to contact the vengeful spirit haunting the unsuspecting couple, but it's the last thing you would admit it to Christian. It would just be another thing for him to tease you with.

"Sorry," he laughs, his whole chest shaking, "what was that?"

"I said I'm putting another movie on," you lie. He bites his tongue to stop the soft groan that nearly slips out when you straddle his waist, silently praying that his body can stay calm for all of two seconds. "This is getting boring," you stretch across and grab the remote, "I want something proper on."

He lets his hands travel down from your hips and onto your thighs, drumming his fingers against the dark denim. "This is something proper."

"Babe, this is two tropes away from being a parody!"

Babe. It makes his heart beat twice as fast. He clears his throat, doing his best attempt at dislodging the feeling from his chest. "There's not much left," he mumbles, lifting one hand away and following yours until it's out of his reach. He chuckles, the soft sound growing a little louder as you beam down at him with a triumphant smile. "Just leave this one on."

"Or," you press pause, silencing the screams, "we could have some fun."

"Fun?" His throat bops. "You and I have very definitions of what fun is." Your lips twitch. "And I don't like that smile."

"You shouldn't," you giggle, letting your weight sink further onto him, your core pressed firmly against his crotch. The not-so-subtle way his mouth parts on a slight groan makes your stomach flutter. For a second, you slip back into the memory of his hands grabbing at your hips and guiding them, as he threw his head back into his pillow, groaning your name which back then was foreign to his tongue. "Let's make a bet," you snap back to reality, "the first person to jump has to go down on the other person."

He mules it over for a second, a deep blush forming on his cheeks and spreading to his ears. "But what if neither of us jumps?" He asks, keeping his focus on something that isn't the movement of your hips as you shift above him.

"Then no gets to come today."

"You mean: you don't get to come today," he fires back, "you don't know what I was doing this morning."

"So, that's why I heard my name coming from your bathroom?" You throw him a wink. "Don't worry, I've basically nicknamed my vibrator CP." He rolls his eyes and mumbles a soft 'ha, ha' under his breath. If your current position wasn't already bad enough for him, then hearing about you using a vibrator on yourself was nearly tipping him over the edge. "So, do we have a deal?" You raise your eyesbrows.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Why not?" His tongue darts across his bottom lip, looking at you like you might be his last meal. "I've been looking for an excuse to eat your pussy again."

———————

Christian frowns. "I don't get it." You lift your head from the comfort of his shoulder, unable to hide a half-smile when you catch sight of the crease in his brow and the slight way his bottom lip would pout. Flashes of confusion fill his eyes. "She was the one sucking on his toes?"

"Yep."

"But she thought it was that...other thing?"

"Yep."

He sighs, running his hand down his face. "This is so confusing."

You prop your hand under your chin, using your free hand to poke his cheek. He bats your finger away, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "You're very pretty," you mumble, bringing your finger back against his cheek, touching the constellation of freckles that reside on his face. They were his prettiest features, after his eyes of course. "How are you single?"

"Me?" He slides his hand down your back, bunching up the fabric as he reaches the small of your back. His touch is warm and it makes you shiver. "What about you?" He counters, tucking his head down. His nose brushed against your temple, and you could smell the faint smell of beer and toothpaste on his breath. "You're a lot prettier than me."

"I go on dates," you shrug, finger drifting down to his bottom lip. It was soft and light shade of pink. And very, very kissable.

"You do?" His body tenses and the jealousy he feels churns in the pit of his stomach. "Oh..."

You wish you could say that your dating life was a story of success and one that involved you finding true love but, unfortunately, that just wasn't the case. The apps were full of guys looking for a night of easy sex or carrying bouquets of red flags. And the dates you were set up with either talked only about themselves, were hung up on their exes, or talked about their mothers at an alarming rate.

Oh, and none of them were Christian.

"But clearly none of them have worked out for me," you sigh, removing your hand and settling your head back down on his shoulder. His body relaxes, pulling you firmly against him. "It doesn't matter though, I don't need them," you mumble, breathing in the smell of the cologne that stuck to his skin. After being apart from him, you had come to realise that it smelt like home. "I've got you."

"For now and always."

For now and always.

It was your thing, you could say, a promise that neither would be alone.

You first said after Christian suffered one of his first injuries whilst at Chelsea. His stubborn ass had ignored your messages after the injury occurred, a part of him, he supposed, didn't want you to see him like that, but your ass was just as equally stubborn as his and you didn't take his silence as a final answer. You were there for his recovery every step of the way, and for every disruption that came afterwards, repeating the words: 'for now and always.'

You sit up on your elbow. "Christian?" He hums but doesn't look at you. "Chris..."

"What's u-" You silence him, pressing your lips against his, moaning softly into his mouth when you feel him kiss back. "Uh," he pulls back, touching his hand to your face, his fingers softly stroking your jaw, "hi-uh, what?" He nervously laughs, the tips of his ears turning red. "W-W-What was that for?"

"I don't know." You shrug, touching your hand to your mouth. "I'm sorry."

His eyes widen. "What? No! Don't apologise for kissing me. I liked it."

"You did?"

"Should that even be a question?" He scoffs, smiling at you. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, the softness of your skin shooting goosebumps up his arm. "Of course, I liked it. Why wouldn't I have liked it?" His gaze lingers on your mouth. "Come closer and kiss me again, please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

It's with a smile on both of your lips that you lean in and press your mouth to his. His lips are soft and willing, parting to welcome you as you run your tongue against his bottom lip. At every groan he made, you would whimper, and Christian would swallow each of the sweet little sounds. They were his to keep. They were his to remember when you left at the end of the week.

His hand grabs your thigh and pulls you to straddle him, rutting his hips up as you settle on him. "Feel that?" He grabs your ass, squeezing firmly as he pushes you down onto his bulge. You grind your hips against him, your movements slow and torturous. "That's it, baby," he bites his bottom lip, groaning your praise and grabbing your ass in both hands, "keep grinding like that for me - make us both feel good."

Your lips roam his jaw and neck, imprinting your whimpers into his skin. "I guess the bets off then?" Your laugh is sultry and yet still sweet.

"Bet or no bet, I would still love to eat your pussy," he purrs, flipping you onto your back, "can I take this off?" He fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.

"Only if you're taking yours off."

You prop yourself up onto your elbows, watching him sit back on his knees. He grabs the back of his collar and removes his T-shirt with one sharp tug. "Beautiful," you whisper, letting your hands roam freely over his chest. They start at the waistband of his jeans, your fingers stroking over the soft trail of hair, before travelling over his naval and feeling every muscle.

Christian was right; you did like him better with no shirt on.

Your eyes pan back down to the bulge in his jeans. "Can I taste you?" You ask, looking back up at him as his hand nestles firmly on the base of your skull.

"Go ahead," he nods, with excitement in his voice, "take it out."

Your eyes shimmer with anticipation as you take a better look at the tent in his boxers, his jeans pulled low enough down. Peeling back the waistband, his cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach. He was big, bigger than you had remembered, and your face grows hotter as you try to think of a way to fit him all into your mouth.

"It'll fit," Christian says like he could read your mind, "trust me." He wraps his hand around the base, pushing the tip gently against your mouth. "Give it a kiss." You pucker your lips and lay a soft one against the crown of his cock, tasting the pre-cum as you pull away and lick your lips. "Now open your mouth," he instructs, gliding it against your wet tongue, "already being such a good girl for me."

You swirl your tongue over the head, smacking your lips as you pull off him. "Definitely the prettiest dick I've ever had the pleasure of sucking," you tell him, replacing his hand around the base.

"Sucked many dicks?" His face quickly drops. "Don't answer that."

You run your tongue against the underside of his shaft. "Not in a long time," you answer anyway, giggling as he scowls.

You wrap your lips once more around his cock, focusing on the tip, sucking it lazily in and out of your mouth, as your hand worked the base. "Fuck, that feels good," he pants, hanging his head back, exposing the column of his neck and the beard that scattered the underside of his jaw to you. "But I'm gonna have to make you stop."

"What?" You pull off him, a string of spit still connecting you. "Why?"

"Because it's been way too long, longer than I would like to admit since I was last with someone, and if you keep sucking me off like that, this is going to end quicker than it started."

You wipe your mouth. "Oh."

"Yeah," he blushes, tucking himself back into his boxers. He tugs his jeans up but leaves them unbuttoned. "Now," he clears his throat, "wanna help me take your clothes off?"

———————

"Fucking gorgeous!" Christian touch sears your skin, burning his prints into you as he grips your thighs. You pinned to his mattress, with nowhere to go, looking down at a pair of hungry eyes. His tongue splits your folds and draws a line between your entrance and your clit. "This pussy has been a part of my dreams for years," he confesses, turning his head, kissing the inside of your thigh, "god, I think about it-think about you when I'm touching myself."

Your lips part on a silent breath. "You do?"

"Every time, baby." He blows hot hair against your clit, grinning as your squirm. "Every. Single. Damn. Time."

"Good," you giggle, cupping your breast and tweaking your nipple, "because I wasn't lying about nicknaming my vibrator CP."

His cock strains in his jeans at your words. "Don't say that," he growls, rutting his hips into the mattress, "not unless you want to be cleaning the cum off my cock."

You prop yourself up, looking down at him between your thighs. "Sounds tasty," you throw back, licking your lips.

His lips twitch. "Speaking of tasty..." He drags his tongue back and forth along your slit, groaning as your wetness pools in his mouth. You were intoxicating. A drug for him to get high off. "Tastiest thing I've ever eaten, baby," his praise has you throwing your head back into the pillow, "and the prettiest, too."

"Oh, my..."

He pushes the air out of your lungs, stretching you out as he slowly works two fingers into your pussy. They twist and curl up to stroke your g-spot, and you feel him grin against your clit when he wrangles out a pornographic moan. No one had made you feel this good. Not in a very long time.

"Christian," you pant his name, pushing your hips up. He groans, flicking his tongue faster over your clit.

He was playing like an instrument and eating you like were his last meal.

"So fucking tight," he licks his lips, tasting you on him. He twists and scissors his fingers, stretching you some more. "And wet, baby," he purrs, rotating his thumb in circles over your clit. His honey-dipped eyes look up at you, roaming every part of your naked figured. "If you could see the mess you're making - just dripping everywhere."

"I want you to look at me like that all the time," you stare down at him.

"I do." He kneels between your legs, dipping to kiss over the tops of your breasts, the dip at the base of your neck and then your lips. "I look at you like this all the time, baby," he presses his thumb harder to your clit, making you squirm, "I've just gotten good at hiding it." He crashes his mouth against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste your arousal off his tongue. "I'm gonna grab a condom."

You stop him as he reaches into his bedside cabinet. "I'm on the pill."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you answer, kissing over his stubbled jaw, nipping playfully at his ear, "now lose those jeans, pretty boy." He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his lips curving up with amusement. You give a sharp tug on his belt loop. "I said lose the jeans."

He chuckles, pushing to stand up. "What is this?" He pulls his jeans down, kicking them off as they reach his feet. You bite your lip, eyes zoning in on his cock bulging in his underwear. They were removed next, a smirk gracing his lips. He wraps his hand around his shaft, jerking his wrist a few times, wincing a little when he squeezes the tip. "Think you're in charge here?"

"Maybe."

He shakes his head, brushing his lips against your temple. "That's very cute." He kneels between your legs, tapping his tip against your clit, chuckling as you whimper. There was nothing worse than being teased. "But that's not happening, baby."

He slips the first few inches inside, watching your pussy swallow and clench around him. He waits, giving himself a second to adjust. "Just remember it's been a while, okay?" His cheeks blush, spreading down his neck onto his chest. "Don't be teasing me if I end up coming too quickly."

"Hey, look at me." You reach out to touch his face, your fingers brushing over his jaw. He leans into your touch. "We're in the same boat, remember?"

"But what about all those dates you've been on?"

You shake your head. "The last guy I had sex with was Kal." Sliding your hand between your bodies, you sink the last few inches inside. The feeling of fullness has you losing your breath, but you find it again when Christian leans over to kiss you. "Forget about the timestamp on your last time, and stop worrying about blowing your load too quickly," you talk against his mouth, soothing your hands over his chest, "just be here with me, okay?"

He nods, biting his bottom lip. "I can do that." His head dips and kisses the centre of your chest, hands exploring your thighs and the globes of your ass as he ruts into you. "Fuck," his voice is strained, "you feel...you feel perfect, like you just for me."

"Yes," you whimper, your heart aching as the words hit your ears, "just for you."

He nuzzles his stubble into your cheek. "Say it again."

"Just for you," you repeat, now grinding your hips up to meet each thrust, "just for you." You pull his head up and crash your lips together, exchanging a kiss like it could been your last. Never had you imagined this is where you would be when you got on the plane four days ago. "You," you managed to make out through a moan, breaking apart, nuzzling your face against his cheek.

He chokes your name on a sob, "I'm not gonna last must longer."

"Let go, Christian," you wrap your legs around his waist, and run your nails down his back, scratching lightly at the muscles that strained, "come for me, baby."

"Inside you?" His rhythm is sloppy and you have to keep grinding against him. "Can I come inside you?" He grabs your hips and clamps them against him, moaning into your shoulder as his whole body shakes above you. "Oh, god," he whines, his cock twitching and pulsing, "I'm coming-I'm..."

Silence.

For the next few seconds, Christian is silently mouthing your name against his skin.

You soothe your hands through his hair as he finishes inside you, letting your hands roam over his shoulders and down his back. "You okay?" You whisper, tucking your head to brush a kiss to the side of his head. "Christian?"

"I think I just had an out-of-body experience," he answers, audibly groaning as he pulls out. You giggle, tiredly rolling onto your front, moving with him as he collapses next to you. His arm comes up over his face, hiding his eyes, before ripping away to look at you. He looked worried like he was realising he had done something wrong. "You didn't come?"

You shrug, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's fine." Which it was.

"No, it's not." He tries to sit up but crashes back onto the mattress. "When I have recovered, you are coming," he declares, pulling the pillow over his face. His voice is muffled as he adds, "we are not leaving this bed until I've made you come."

———————

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[moonlightspencie]

isn’t it?

Description: Years after the battle at Hogwarts, reader runs into an unlikely old friend. A simple invitation to tea leads to much more.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, slow burn babyyy, draco talking about traumatic events in the hp series, me being an american writing about folks in the UK (do not come for me),

Word Count: 10k

A/N: im a draco apologist, what about it. anyways, he gets a redemption arc in this. they’re like 20-23 in this. also had to make my own gif cause most malfoy girlies are 14 year olds from tiktok & don’t appreciate tom in his 20s. logging off forever now

check out the playlist!

Winter was one of my least favorite times of the year because of how horrifically frigid it got. I was never a fan of the cold months. At least not when it was so cold that my fingers would be numb from standing outside for a couple of minutes.

But, it could also one of my most favorite times for the days like this one.

I stepped into the bookstore, glancing around in the soft lighting at all of the cheery decor. They hadn’t yet taken down their Christmas decorations, so twinkling lights were still wrapped around the bookshelves. Snow fell gently outside, making the warmth inside that much more cozy.

I walked around the small shop, looking up and down various shelves until I found the section I was looking for. I started sorting through the various history books, picking out a few that piqued my interest. I slid down a little further, stopping only when I saw that I was encroaching on a stranger’s space.

I turned my head, making sure I hadn’t already gotten too close, when I saw a familiar, bright, blonde head of hair.

“Malfoy,” I breathed out.

His head turned quickly, wide eyes searching for the person who had accidentally called his name. They somehow widened even more when he recognized me and muttered my name, more to himself rather than as a greeting. I found myself walking towards him almost on instinct.

The last time we’d seen each other was years prior. His father had called his name from across the ruins of Hogwarts to join them. He’d stood still and unmoving, up until the point his mother’s voice finally convinced him. He glanced at me briefly before he walked away from the rest of us, and I had assumed I’d never see him again.

We always had a complicated relationship. Even more, it seemed Draco had very complicated feelings about me.

We were friends, for all intents and purposes, but it was a secretive kind of friendship. He was a Slytherin, from a very prejudiced family, and was quite frankly a bully much of the time. I was a Gryffindor, friends with Potter, and though I was a half-blood, I didn’t care for the idea that blood purity had any say in the value of a wizard. That had caused some tension early in our friendship before I knocked a little sense into him. Though, it still caused some problems for us. Especially after his parents heartily disapproved of me in our fifth year.

We’d been friends for nearly a year at that point. He had, rather foolishly, decided to introduce me to his parents over holiday, assuming they would also be willing to love me despite my disdain for blood-purity ideals. We’d left in uncomfortable silence, and, soon after, Draco had explained that his father had instructed him to stay away from me.

Of course, he hadn’t listened.

We still spent time together when we could, even when I’d begun to notice his increasingly tired eyes and gaunt state of being in sixth year. He never let me find out what the matter was until it was too late, however.

I hadn’t seen him after the night Dumbledore was killed until the battle at Hogwarts. Now, I was seeing him in a bookshop in London. A muggle bookshop.

“What…” I started, unsure what to say now. “Wow. It’s good to see you.”

He was silent, staring back at me in shock.

“I’m sorry, um, how’ve you been?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh— Fine. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here? In London, I mean?”

“Searching for something to read,” he said, the ghost of a chuckle leaving him.

“In a muggle shop?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I know, it’s probably strange to see me here.”

“It’s strange to see you anywhere. It’s been…”

“… A long time.”

I nodded in agreement. He looked down at the books in my hands.

“I see you’re still interested in muggle affairs.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking at my books. “After leaving Hogwarts I wasn’t really interested in becoming an auror anymore, so I started writing. I do a lot of writing for wizards interested in muggle history. I generally write a lot of magazine pieces, and I’m working on a book now.”

“Wow,” he said with brows raised. “That’s incredible.”

“Thanks. Are you doing anything… I don’t know. Like, for a job?”

“No. That was never really on the table for me, anyways, with my family’s—“ he sighed. “You know. All of that.”

“Right,” I nodded with half a smile. He’d always been raised with the idea that he’d be living off of the generational wealth. “What are you looking at here?”

“I still need hobbies, so I’ve taken up a lot of reading. Muggle fiction books have been particularly interesting to me lately.”

“Huh. Never expected that to come out of your mouth.”

He raised his brows quickly, nodding along slowly. He looked back to the book in his hands.

“They tend to think that witches are evil, mythical creatures. They also don’t believe that giants or dragons or werewolves exist. They’re all viewed as freaks to the muggles,” he said, looking back at me. “Most of the time, we’re all seen as the villain in their stories.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone sees things differently. Usually the hatred comes in when they don’t care to learn about people who aren’t like them.”

He swallowed, looking down once again.

“I’m beginning to realize that much more, now.”

We both went quiet for a few seconds as a question was formulating in my head.

“Would you like to come over to mine for some tea?”

His eyes snapped to mine. He furrowed his brow, obviously not expecting the invitation.

“Really?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He just stood there, unmoving like I was going to burst out laughing at him at any moment. He watched me with wary eyes, not responding.

“If you want to,” I added at last. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Uh, that would be nice. Yes.”

“Okay. Um, I’m going to go buy these now.”

I held up my books, then turned for the register. I finished after a few minutes, lingering near the door until he followed after with his own bag.

“So, where you do you live?” he asked as we walked out into the cold.

“Guildford. In Surrey.”

“How do you usually—“

“Take my hand,” I said, holding out my free hand.

He switched his bag over to the opposite hand, putting his cold one in mine. In a flash we were on my street. He looked up at the street lamps that were starting to turn on as the sky dimmed slowly. I let him take in his surroundings for a moment.

“Ready?” I asked after a beat.

He looked at me, snow sticking to his eyelashes.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

We started forward on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of my building.

“Are you still in Wiltshire with your parents?”

He nodded. “Yes. Though, I don’t see them much anymore. I’m usually out for most of the day if I can help it.”

“You don’t get along much anymore?”

He shrugged. “They disagree with a lot of my choices.”

“I see.”

We stepped into the foyer of my building, walking up to the third floor and wandering through the hall until we got to the door of my flat. I suddenly turned, his brows raising slightly as I looked at him.

“I feel like I need to tell you that I don’t live anywhere particularly… Special.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

I nodded, a small smile on my face as I unlocked the door.

It felt strange to have anyone in my flat, let alone someone I hadn’t seen for years after they’d betrayed my friends and myself. Usually, I only had over a few very close friends every few weeks. I wasn’t exactly prepared for company, and I felt that it showed as I pulled down two mismatched mugs. He lingered in the kitchen with me, looking entirely uncomfortable, his hands repeatedly clenching and releasing as if it would relieve whatever anxieties he was facing. I gave him a soft smile after setting the mugs on the counter near him.

“This cabinet here,” I started, pointing at the one next to the oven, “has all the teas. You can choose whichever one you’d like.”

He nodded, moving forward towards the cabinet as I filled the kettle with water. I set it on the stovetop, turning it on. He nervously looked through the various tea flavors for a few more seconds, then turned to me.

“Which one would you like?”

I looked at him, noticing that he hadn’t picked for himself yet.

“Are you asking in earnest, or do you need a recommendation?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he gave me a small smile.

“Both.”

“I’d love an earl grey. I’ve got one that has some lavender in it as well, and it is delightful.”

He nodded quickly, pulling down two tea bags.

“That sounds nice.”

I smiled to myself, a little out of sorts at how polite he’d become. We waited in a strange kind of silence until I heard the water beginning to bubble in the kettle. I pulled it off the heat, filling the mugs Draco had popped the bags into earlier. He looked at me curiously.

“You know,” he began, pulling my attention to his amused face, “you’re supposed to wait until the kettle whistles.”

I shrugged. “I prefer to get to it before it starts up. I’m almost never too busy to have to listen to that horrible whistling.”

He laughed softly, nodding his head in understanding. I led him to the small table in my kitchen, and much to my surprise, he took the seat next to me rather than across the way. It was quiet for a minute or two, neither of us really sure what we were doing in my kitchen together.

“Can I ask something?” he blurted out.

“Sure,” I replied with a nod.

“Why did you invite me here?”

I shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to talk. It’s been a long time.”

“But I haven’t spoken to you since… You know. What’s the use in trying to talk to me now?”

“You agreed, didn’t you?”

He smirked, but it was a more gentle kind than what he would usually pull back in the day. Not full of cocky disdain for others, and more a way to tell me that I’d bested him with the simple phrase. It was nice.

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, each sipping our tea. I suddenly realized, only after inviting him into my home, that I had no clue what to talk to him about. I let out a soft breath, looking at him to find him already looking in my direction. I gave him a soft smile that he returned. Though, it quickly fell, and the both of us tilted our heads down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “for leaving that day. When my mother called me over.”

I looked at him in surprise, staring up from my teacup.

He continued, “I should’ve stayed with you. With all of you. I was just in so deep at that point, and I couldn’t say no to her. And I know that isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was sure that the second something went sideways again, after all that I’d done, I would probably be the first one to die. I don’t know why nobody killed me in the meantime before V-Voldemort and the others came back with Potter.”

“Where did you go? After the room of requirement was set on fire?”

“I hid,” he mumbled, looking down at his tea. “I’ve always been a coward. I think I’ve deserved everything that’s happened to me after all of that.”

We sat after that, sipping our tea like nothing had been said to begin with. I looked back at him. He’d changed so much in the few years he’d been gone, and yet he was so different. He looked practically the same. Maybe a little healthier. He acted like a new person, though. All of that youthful bravado was gone, and what was left was quiet and remorseful and entirely not like the Draco I’d known in school. It shocked me more and more the longer we sat.

I sighed softly. “Draco?”

He looked at me with wide eyes.

“You haven’t called me that in forever.”

“I haven’t seen you in as long.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

I took in a breath, watching him a few seconds longer before I spoke.

“You know it’s never too late to change things, right? I know that you and your mother both made some decisions we never would’ve expected you to at the end, there. Harry told me.”

“That means nothing. I’ve always despised Potter. I was cruel to him every day, but he still saved my life. You all fought. You were all brave. Not giving him up one time was nothing compared to what all of the rest of you did.”

“You can still change things now, Draco.”

He shook his head.

“It’ll never be enough. I walked away from all of you when we thought Potter had died. I know you saw me doing it, too, and I know you were disappointed in me for it. Probably hated me,” he said, a humorless chuckle leaving him for a moment. “You were standing there by Granger and Weasley, and I looked at you right before I started across the courtyard, and you were already looking back at me. Looked like you could’ve killed me yourself.”

I swallowed, not taking my eyes off of him the entire time he spoke.

“I wanted better for you. I’d always hoped you would really, sincerely change for the better at some point, and it just never seemed to come,” I mentioned with a half-hearted shrug. “When I saw you walking out just in front of Luna, I hoped it meant you would stay with us. That you’d changed sides after Harry had gotten you out of the fire. Watching you leave after that…”

“I know. I’m shocked you even spoke to me in the bookshop.”

“I was shocked to see you at all. Especially in a muggle bookstore. I know you’d gotten off the hook after the war because of what you did for Harry, but honestly, I never thought you’d change. Not really, anyways.”

He nodded, looking away from me again. He only glanced back up once I continued speaking.

“But you have, now. That much is clear. You’re kinder now.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You agreed to have tea with me. You willingly had a conversation with me in that bookstore rather than walking away from me. I thought for sure that you would when I saw you there.”

He shook his head. “I might have if it was anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you, though. You were the only person who was kind to me in school. You’re the only one who really cared or noticed something was wrong in sixth year.”

“Do you really not see it?” I asked, laughing incredulously.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You never would have told me any of this before. Draco, I know that you had done some horrible things, but it’s not too late to be different. And you’re already so different.”

He merely stared for a moment or two.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He stood abruptly, walking off towards the kitchen door. I followed after him, just barely reaching him as we reached my entry way. I reached out, grabbing his wrist. His eyes were wide as he turned his head towards me, casting his gaze towards where my hand held him from going any further.

“Just…” I sighed, putting on a smile. “Don’t be afraid to send an owl sometime.”

He nodded, his voice small, “Okay.”

I finally let him go, watching him take his coat and bag of of books, and walk out the door.

A few weeks later I sat at my desk at home, unable to get past a terrible bout of writer’s block. I hadn’t considered when writing a book that it wasn’t simply writing a long article. I had to craft each chapter in a meaningful way, and unfortunately, that meant that I had to get anything at all on paper. I sighed hard, needing an outlet for my dramatics. Suddenly, an unfamiliar owl was at my window. I opened it up, and the owl dropped a letter right on my window, staring almost curiously at me.

You requested that I send an owl sometime. I hope that you meant it, otherwise you can feel free to ignore this letter. Assuming you did mean it, I’d like to invite you to lunch on the thirteenth of February. I hope you’re well.

Draco

I looked up at the owl on my windowsill.

“Just a moment,” I said to it.

It chirped lightly in response. I quickly picked up some new parchment and a quill, scribbling out a response before I folded it and put it in an envelope. I reached into my bottom desk drawer, giving the owl a treat before handing off the letter.

“Thank you. Go home, now.”

The owl flew off into the sky, leaving me with a smile and an even emptier brain.

The date he’d suggested was less than a week out from when he’d sent his letter, and it arrived much sooner than I was expecting. He’d sent another letter soon after mine had arrived, telling me the time and location, and soon enough I was pulling on my shoes in order to leave.

I showed up outside of the café. Surprisingly, another muggle location. I walked inside, being greeted by a hostess.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, um…”

“She’s with me,” Draco said, coming up near the hostess stand.

I smiled at him gratefully, my demeanor obviously edging on discomfort. He led me back to our table, pulling out my seat for me.

“Thank you,” I said, scooting in a little closer. “So, why this place?”

“Easier to make reservations and avoid judgements eating at muggle restaurants. They’re not exactly familiar with the Malfoy name.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Well, it’s nice here.”

“It is. They have great soup.”

I laughed, looking down at the menu.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s just weird. Being here with you, and… talking about soup.”

“We could talk about sandwiches if you’d like.”

I laughed again, finding him doing the same. The afternoon ended up delightfully strange. We finished our food, and found ourselves on a walk around town, chatting about what we’d been doing in the years since we’d last seen one another.

In the final moments, I’d convinced him to visit another bookstore with me the following week.

It started to become a bit of a habit, really. We’d keep finding new places to bring one another to, and, for me, new excuses to keep seeing him. I didn’t necessarily have feelings for him, but I couldn���t deny that I found myself enjoying his company much more than I had as a teenager.

One chilly night in March, I’d come home from dinner with a friend absolutely wiped. I was more than ready to head off to bed after sitting around on my couch for a rerun of an old favorite show.

Though, halfway through the episode, there was a knock on my door. I walked over the front door, wand in hand as I wasn’t expecting any visitors at night. I looked through the peephole, hiding away the wand when I recognized the face outside the door. I opened it right afterwards.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing just outside my door.

My brows raised on instinct as he looked a little inebriated.

“Hi,” I said mindlessly. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down to the floor, shrugging a little. He rubbed at his face before he looked back at me.

“I might’ve been at the pub down the street. I thought about you there,” he swallowed. “Thought it might be nice to see you.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He nodded silently, stepping past me into my apartment. I shut and locked the door, turning to see him looking around the space. He looked back at me after a moment, a confused pout coming across his face as his eyes dropped to my outfit.

“Were you busy?”

I shook my head. “No, I just got home a bit ago.”

“Where’d you go?” he asked, toeing his shoes off to leave them near mine.

“Got dinner with Luna Lovegood.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “She still… Herself?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

“Sorry.”

I helped him take his coat off as he started struggling with the sleeves.

“Luna’s still an absolute sweetheart, as she’s always been,” I mentioned as I draped his jacket on a coat hook.

He wore a sage green sweater under the jacket, and it brought the slightest smile to my face that he still preferred his house colors when he wasn’t decked out in all black. He started wandering into my flat, looking around the living room.

“I like your home,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” I replied with a small laugh. “I’m going to go get you some water. Probably some ibuprofen too. It might help prevent a massive headache tomorrow.”

He nodded, not quite paying attention as he started walking around again. Once I gathered the cup of water and the medicine, I was at a loss. He’d escaped the living room. I walked around, checking the bathroom first, before finding my bedroom lamp on. I stepped into the room, finding him plopped down on my bed. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh fully.

He lifted his head with a quirked brow.

“What?”

“You. Laying there like you’ve just had your very first drink.”

“You’ve got a comfortable bed.”

“I’m aware,” I nodded, kneeling on the mattress next to him. “Come and drink some water, now.”

He sat up with a groan, accepting the ibuprofen and the cup from me. He drank down the water quickly, letting out a sigh as he handed back the empty cup.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping back down.

He was quiet for a few seconds as I set down the empty cup on my nightstand, just staring at the ceiling.

“Is it okay that I came here?”

I furrowed my brow, laying on my back next to him.

“I’m happy you showed up here rather than going and causing trouble someplace else.”

“You’ve always been a good person,” he said with a sigh. “Why were you ever friends with me? I was awful.”

“Seemed like you needed someone good in your life. You were surrounded by some truly terrible people,” I mentioned with a chuckle. “When we ended up seated next to one another in potions and you actually laughed at jokes I made that weren’t at the expense of another person, I realized you might not be totally hopeless.”

He laughed. No— he giggled, covering his face with his hands.

“You know, my other friends hated you,” he said, voice muffled.

I reached over, pulling his hands away from his face. He smiled softly as I did, watching me as he continued talking.

“They all thought I went crazy for being friends with you. Blaise told me I was going to get kicked out of Slytherin if I kept it up, and Parkinson was really upset because she wasn’t the only girl around me anymore.”

“I always thought she had a crush on you.”

He hummed. “Yeah, I think so. It was kind of annoying, to be honest. At first I liked the attention, but it got old very quickly.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know what I always thought?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“I thought for forever that Potter had it bad for you. Up until he started crushing on the Weasley girl, I was convinced.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, looking back at the ceiling. “Either him or Longbottom. They were always around you.”

“Because we were friends,” I said with a laugh. “I still see them sometimes, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I haven’t seen my school friends since, well, everything happened.”

“You’ve seen me, at least.”

He smiled a little.

“That’s true. Nobody else, though. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I think it probably is.”

A silence fell over us for a few moments. I stared at the sheets in between us, brushing my fingers across them.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

“Why would I be cruel?”

He sighed dejectedly. “I deserve it. I was— I’ve done terrible things.”

I sighed softly. “I know what you’ve done, Draco. I was kind of there for much of it.”

A smile tugged at his lips, though he shoved it away just as quickly as it appeared.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know,” he said at last. “You wouldn’t stick around if you did.”

“I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I fell silent again for a minute or so, milling over what to say next in my head. I heard him let out a soft breath, and turned my eyes to watch him. His hair was messier than usual, with his natural waves sneaking their way out of the gelled constraints they were usually stuck in. His skin glowed in the soft lighting of my bedroom, especially now that the constant dark circles he’d worn for the past few years were gradually fading away with time.

He called my name in question. I hummed in response, turning my body to face him, listening as he started speaking again.

“I just,” he sighed, taking a moment. “I wonder if things would’ve been different if I told you back then. Or anyone.”

“It might have changed things a little, but at that point, do you think you would’ve been able to avoid what you had to do?”

He shook his head. “No. It just might have been nice for someone to know.“

“I think you would be too stubborn to tell anyone, though,” I said with half a smile.

He smiled back, looking down at the mattress as he nodded.

“I definitely would’ve been. That’s part of the reason I never told you in the first place.”

I raised a brow. “What was the other part?”

He swallowed, looking at me again.

“I was worried you might put yourself in danger.”

“How?”

He snorted a laugh. “If you think I was stubborn, you have got to know that you were much worse. You probably would’ve tried helping me at the worst possible moment and gotten yourself killed.”

I scoffed. “I’m not that dumb.”

“You could act like it sometimes.”

My eyes widened as he hid a smile.

“Oh, so you do still like to make fun of me, huh?”

“Old habits are hard to beat.”

“You still secretly like dancing?”

His smile fell a bit as he thought it over.

“I haven’t really had a reason to since… Everything.”

Whatever came over me in that moment to drive my actions could possibly be instinct to comfort an old friend. It could’ve been the need to reach out to someone clearly in pain. It could’ve just been that I wanted to touch him. I scooted closer, resting my head on his chest. My hand rested on his stomach, and I felt him sigh softly through it. He didn’t say anything, but I did feel him go a bit rigid.

I lifted my head up when I noticed the stiffness in his body.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first,” I rushed out, “Is this okay?”

His cheeks turned slowly pink as he stared back at me, nodding.

“I, um,” he let out a quick breath, “Yes. I just don’t really ever—“

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. Well, it’s just like a hug.”

He stared back once again, unmoving for a few moments. I furrowed my brow in question as he looked away from my face.

“The only person, um, who ever really hugs me is… mum.”

I watched him quietly, unsure what to say. It had always been evident that he never had a shot at a normal childhood, but I hadn’t considered how much of that normalcy was completely stripped from his life. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quietly. “That’s so humiliating.”

“No, no,” I said, brushing some of his hair from his face before quickly pulling away. “Not at all. That isn’t your fault.”

“If I wasn’t such a horrible child…”

“It may have helped to make real friends, but you were raised in an echo chamber of hatred. For the longest time you didn’t know how to be anything but mean. Clearly, if your own father didn’t even hug you as a child.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding slowly.

“Plus,” I added, “things are so different now. I saw you starting to change a little back then. I wasn’t the only one to notice either, you should’ve seen my friends’ faces when you smiled at me in passing on the way to classes the first time. Since then, things have changed tenfold. Why not lean into that?”

He nodded again, giving me the faintest smile imaginable. I settled back against his chest, finally feeling his arms carefully wrapping around me. They just barely rested over top of me, not dissimilar to how an adult would try to hug a toddler. I let one arm stretch across his torso, holding him tightly, and, eventually, he held me just as tight.

I opened my eyes to sun-washed sheets, and a breathing pillow under my head. I tilted my head up, seeing him still absolutely passed out. His breathing came soft and steady, and he looked utterly at peace. I only looked away from his sleeping form when he started stirring. He let out a soft little groan, his arms tightening around me slightly. Only after he gave a sigh did I have the nerve to look back at his face.

“Good morning,” I said.

He smiled softly. “Morning. M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” I looked down at our clothes. “Just a bit unfortunate we fell asleep in these clothes. Not the most comfortable.”

He laughed. “Yes. Maybe next time it would be better not to be wearing trousers. I think I’d personally prefer some flannel pajamas.”

“I’m partial to sleep shorts.”

He let out another small laugh, as did I. His cheeks were tinged pink as he looked back at me, though I can’t say I didn’t feel the heat rising in my face as well.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly. “Surprisingly fine. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“Any time, Malfoy.”

I reluctantly pulled myself out of his arms, sitting up in the bed. I stretched out my arms above my head, then turned to him once again to announce I’d be back in a moment. I found myself doing my usual bathroom duties in a kind of haze. There was a smile stuck to my face that I couldn’t quite get rid of. I chose not to look into it too much, especially as I reentered the bedroom to find him rubbing at his sleep-ridden eyes.

“There’s an extra toothbrush I left in the bathroom for you. It should be the yellow one next to mine,” I mentioned.

He gave me a small smile, nodding his head.

“Thanks.”

I hummed in response. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Tea and toast sound okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, standing up.

I merely raised a brow at him as he drew closer. He silently conceded, following me out of the bedroom in order for each of us to get to what we needed to. I filled the kettle, put the bread in the toaster, and somehow managed to spill my entire cup of water all over the floor after setting out the mugs. I grumbled to myself, getting down with a towel to clean up my mess.

“Clumsy one, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh as he found me crouched down on the floor.

I looked up to where he stood near the sink, feigning annoyance at his cheery state. I stood up, crossing over to wring the towel out.

“Wait,” he exclaimed, though too late.

I stepped forward, not seeing the bit of spilled water I hadn’t cleaned up. I slipped and, in an attempt not to tumble to the floor, grabbed onto his arms. He laughed at me as I regained my balance, earning him a furrowed brow and a hidden smile of my own.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“It was funny,” he defended. “You should’ve seen your face.”

I squeezed his forearms briefly before beginning to drop my hands. Though, the way his face dropped as I did so kept me from completely breaking contact.

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m— It’s fine.”

I quirked a brow, unbelieving.

“I’m not buying that. What’s wrong?”

He looked down, his eyes quickly darting to where my hand was placed on his left arm. I took in a breath.

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Do you… It’s still there, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I firmed my hold on his arms again, gently rubbing my thumbs against the fabric of his sweater.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I’ve never thought about the fact you’d always have to hide it.”

He breathed out slowly, shakily, still looking down.

“Is there any way to rid yourself of it?” I asked after a beat.

“No,” he shook his head. “There are some charms I can use temporarily to hide it if I need to, but nothing permanent works. It’s forever.”

I nodded, looking back at his face until he met my eye. He cleared his throat, pulling his arms from out of my grasp.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“I’m used to it. I haven’t forgotten your little attitude every time you spotted me with Harry or one of the others.”

I reached down to grab the towel I had dropped.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I couldn’t help it. You were so likable, and they were just...”

“My friends. So watch it, Malfoy,” I scolded with a smirk.

“Right,” he nodded, fighting a smile himself. “Everyone has their flaws.”

I scoffed out a laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of my hand. He laughed, leaning against the counter.

“Right then, you can pour your own tea,” I noted as I wrung out the towel.

“You’ll still get the toast though?”

I furrowed my brow as I tossed the towel down, turning to him.

“Only because you don’t know where I keep the plates or else you’d be on your own.”

He gave me a knowing smirk, taking the kettle just before it began whistling to fill both of our mugs. I took down the plates, setting the toast on each of them before getting the butter and jam set out. We set to work, side by side, on preparing our breakfast. It felt oddly normally as we went about our business, putting everything away before we sat at the kitchen table.

We found ourselves laughing over nothing in particular before we knew it, and, eventually, it was dark outside once again. The surprise on his face told me all that I needed to know as he looked out the window and declared that he should probably be going on his way. I walked him to the door, watching as he gathered his things again, and as he apparated away.

Our owls were sent back and forth over the next few weeks, and though we saw each other frequently, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander on the days we didn’t have much communication. Frankly, it wandered a great deal even when we were together. Usually to his eyes. The way he’d look at me when we’d stop talking. Or the way he’d smile when we did some silly activity together. Or his laugh when I’d make a stupid jokes. Or his hands.

May came quickly, and with it came warmer weather. It was nice to have my windows open whenever it wasn’t raining, and it was absolutely wonderful to have lakeside picnics or nighttime strolls through the nearby park as the month bled into June. Those little outdoor escapades started to become a habit. A way of being out in the world together with nobody else around.

Not that alone time was necessarily important to us. It certainly didn’t make my cheeks flush with heat every time we sat completely by ourselves on a picnic blanket with favorite snacks of mine that he’d somehow remembered and brought along when he showed up at my door. I most definitely hadn’t made a habit to lie to myself about the entire ordeal.

“Walk?” he asked after we’d finished playing a game of wizard chess.

I nodded. “Of course. It’s a gorgeous night, we may as well enjoy it, right?”

He smiled, standing and taking my hands to help me off the ground near my coffee table. We pulled on our shoes, and headed out. It was warm, and the most gentle breeze went through the new leaves on the trees as we passed them. He made silly conversation with me as we kept on, so much so that we’d lost track of the time. I could only tell it had been a while when my legs started growing a bit tired.

We sat on a bench nearby after our walk through the park, relishing in the warm night air of the summertime.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” I commented.

He hummed in agreement.

“It does,” he said, suddenly putting on a small smile. “That’s one benefit to me staying out all hours of the night with you.”

I laughed. “Oh dear. You may just have to stay over again. How horrible. It’s not like you can apparate home at any moment.”

“This is your fault, you know? You just have to live so far away,” he said in feigned annoyance, ignoring the last sentence I’d spoken. “Maybe I should just make friends elsewhere.”

“Yet, you still accept every time I suggest some kind of activity for us to do rather than finding new friends. Why’s that?”

“You’re… Different,” he whispered, like it was some miraculous secret.

“How?”

He sighed softly. “People back home, what I grew up with— It’s nothing like this. Everyone is cold. They all care so much about the wrong things.”

“You think I care about the right things?”

He smiled softly. “You care about me. That’s enough.”

“Who would’ve guessed Malfoy would become such a softie,” I mentioned with a smirk. “Oh, how things change.”

“Some things don’t,” he said with a shrug. “You still somehow choose to be my friend.”

“All that childhood bullying and teenage depression captivated me.”

He furrowed his brows, an unbelieving laugh passing his lips. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking around at the park as it was washed in moonlight. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, and I willingly opened my palm to him. He slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Look up,” he said quietly, and I obliged. He pointed up at the stars in the clear sky. “There’s a constellation there. Just between the… It’s right by ursa major, the plough constellation.”

“Mhm,” I hummed along.

“Right along here,” he traced a line of stars in my vision. “Do you know what that constellation is called?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Draco. It was called that because it kind of resembles a dragon. I don’t know for sure if my parents named me because of the constellation, but I like to think so.”

I smiled, glancing at him rather than the stars. He looked at peace as he stared up into the sky, his thumb gently rubbing against my hand. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye after a minute, at which point I looked back into the night. The stars really were beautiful that night. They looked brighter than normal, and the constellation patters I did recognize were easy to spot. Now, there was a new one I wouldn’t soon forget.

I heard him sigh next to me after a few minutes, and turned my head slightly to find he was already looking at me. This time, neither of us looked away.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Unsure of what to say in that moment, and wanting to do more than offer a smile, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He let out another soft breath, dropping his head against mine. I brought our connected hands up, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his.

“When was the last time you were in Hogsmeade?” I asked quietly.

He gave a soft chuckle to that.

We walked down the street the next day in the afternoon, everything looking quite different now that the weather was quite warm.

“It’s strange not being here in the wintertime,” I noted.

He nodded. “It is. I haven’t been in years.”

We walked up to a familiar building, and I reached out to him. I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the pub. We were offered a seat, but not before receiving several stares.

“You might not want to be holding my hand in front of everyone here,” Draco leaned in to whisper.

“I’m not terribly worried about being seen with you, you know?” I whispered back in reply. “Anyone who knows me is already aware that we used to be friends.”

We sat at the table, placed our orders, and were left alone once again. He let out a breath, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Seriously, don’t worry about all of them,” I said, leaning on the table. “Half of everyone in here were secretly on the wrong side anyways. They just fly under the radar because they don’t come from a powerful family.”

“Still. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t. Besides, I’m used to people judging me for being around you.”

He deadpanned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“My point is that I don’t care about being seen with you. Okay?”

He swallowed, sighing softly.

“You make it terribly difficult to try and protect you.”

“Probably because I don’t need to be protected. Stop worrying about me so much,” I stated with a laugh.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, a small smirk on his face.

Our drinks were brought to the table, along with some assorted appetizers.

“Just don’t tell your parents that we’re friends this time,” I joked, hoping that wouldn’t strike a chord.

He snorted. “I already have.”

I straightened in surprise, looking at him with curious eyes. He glanced at me, a partial smile on his face when he saw my shock.

“And you’re still allowed to live with them?”

“It’s been a long time since they’ve tried to make decisions for me like that. After practically forcing me to become a, uh—“

“Yep.”

He nodded, thankful he didn’t have to say it.

“After that happened, my father laid off. Mother still worries for me, but she knows now that at least I’m safe. That’s all that’s ever really mattered to her.”

“They still hate me, though?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a curt nod.

I smiled to myself, sipping at my drink. He shook his head.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m sorry to say, but I don’t really feel too terrible that they don’t like me.”

“I know,” he said.

I looked back up to see a small smile on his face as well.

“Also, most of that smile is because I haven’t had a butterbeer in a terribly long time.”

Two months flew by after our visit to Hogsmeade. Though, it was filled with almost daily visits with one another. Usually, he’d just show up and keep me company as I wrote. Sometimes, he’d even give input when I asked for it, or let me read him chapters to see how it sounded. His sleepovers even became more frequent, and part of me had to wonder what on earth anyone would think of it if they knew.

I’d told my friends bits and pieces of what had been taking up so much of my time over the last eight months, but not quite the whole story. Luckily, they hadn’t been too angry with me for it. Most of them were rather indifferent, especially after I’d told them about how he’d changed. I never expected them to forgive him, though. I wouldn’t believe how different things had become if I hadn’t seen how he’d changed for myself.

But he truly did. And it was incredible.

During the breaks I’d take from writing, he was usually excited to tell me about the muggle books he’d been reading. Sometimes out of surprise at the content, and sometimes just because he appreciated the writing.

The icing on top was being with him and running into Ron and Hermione. The looks on their faces when he was gentle and kind in their interaction was absolutely priceless. She’d written me days later to ask if I’d found his long-lost twin, not quite believing that he was capable of being anything but who he used to be. But, as I’d repeatedly told Draco himself: it’s not only possible for people to change for the good, it’s probable for those who care to.

So, our days passed comfortably. He only became more kind and, frankly, affectionate, as time went on.

It was on a beautiful August evening when he knocked on my door, our plans already set in place.

I tugged the door open at the sound and took him in, my brows raised slightly. He was in a white button-down and a black sweater vest. There was a messenger back slung across his chest, one hand with a silver ring adorning it held the strap. His cheeks were slightly pink from the weather outside, and he practically glowed. For lack of a better word, he just looked pretty.

He furrowed his brow, looking back at me.

“Everything alright?”

I nodded fast. “Yeah. You just look really nice today.”

“Oh,” he replied, cheeks suddenly flushed. “You also look nice. I like your blouse.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought something,” he said, giving me a shy smile.

“Okay,” I said curiously. “Are you going to at least take off your shoes?”

He shook his head. “No. In fact, you should probably put yours on.”

I furrowed my brow, though I listened anyways. I started pulling on my shoes.

“I thought we were going to have dinner here first, and then go to the cinema.”

“Change of plans,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” I laughed, still unsure.

He pulled a small object out of the bag he carried, unfolding the cloth around it to reveal a small stone statue. I quirked a brow, looking down at the little object.

“What’s this?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“On the count of three, reach out to it and hold on.”

“Draco, is this a portkey?”

“One…”

“Is this one even legal?”

“Two…”

“You’re insane.”

“Three.”

We both held onto the small statue, and in an instant we were in some alleyway. I took in a sudden breath, feeling out of sorts from the transport.

“Where did you get that?”

“My family has had it forever,” he said, wrapping it back up and tucking it into his bag.

“Where are we?”

He smiled at me, taking my hand. I followed him along blindly, until he lead me into a building. I looked around at the tall ceilings and the beautiful chandelier that hung in the middle.

“Wow,” I said, mostly to myself.

He walked us up to the front desk, greeting the clerk in French. My eyes widened as they continued a conversation, ending only when he took a key from her. He then began leading me towards the elevator, still not loosening his grip on my hand.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

He smirked as he pressed the elevator button.

“I brought a few things with in my bag, but I didn’t bring any clothes. I thought we could get whatever else we needed here.”

I quirked a brow as we stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the right floor.

“How long were you planning on staying?” I asked with a laugh.

“Just tonight and daytime tomorrow. We could stay longer if you want to?”

“No, that’s plenty,” I replied, a smile stuck to my face. “This is crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Practically clinically insane.”

He laughed, pulling me out into the hall. He walked us down the hallway, opening the right door when we arrived, and letting me walk in ahead of him. The room was huge. It had a beautiful sitting area, and judging by the height of the curtains, I was sure the windows would be gorgeous. He called me over as he entered the bedroom through large double doors, and I took it all in. He dropped his bag and flopped down onto the huge mattress.

“Whoa,” I said finally, shaking my head. “I don’t know what else to say.”

I fell down next to him on the bed, smiling over at him when he turned his head to me.

“You like it?”

“This is too much, Draco. Really,” I began. “But, it’s amazing.”

“I have one more thing to show you before we get dinner.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“You’ve seen the eiffel tower before?”

I shook my head. “Only in pictures.”

He stood quickly, and I sat, watching him circle the bed. He grabbed the tall curtains, pulling them apart with force. I stilled before scrambling to my feet and meeting him at the window. I looked out the practically-floor-to-ceiling windows to see the tower glittering against the night sky. I sighed, absolutely wonderstruck.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One thing I’m sure the muggles got right.”

I laughed, unbelieving, turning to throw my arms around his middle. He held me against him, resting his head on top of mine as we looked out the window again.

“We’ll have all night to stare out the window if you’d like to, but I don’t think the restaurant we’re eating at will wait as long.”

I looked at him, a smile still stuck to my face. He smiled back, just as gently, tucking some hair behind my ear. I felt my heart beat a little faster then, especially as he didn’t look away from me this time. Usually at this point, one of us would have come up with some clever distraction from whatever tension laid between us. It was silent, but not uncomfortable. There was almost a whisper of ‘tell the truth’ floating there, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to open my mouth to speak. He moved forward the slightest bit, though before anything could happen, he did speak.

“We really should go,” he said as a whisper. “Our reservation is in five minutes, and I’d feel horrible if we missed it.”

He gave a boyish smile, one that I couldn’t help but to return, even if I’d secretly hoped for a different outcome. I nodded silently, accepting his hand again once we walked to the door. We apparated near a relatively quiet street, stepping out onto the sidewalk in order to integrate into the other pedestrians. We walked into a small restaurant hidden through a wall. I hadn’t expected him to take me to a wizards-only restaurant, but especially not one that had me forcefully closing my jaw after it had involuntarily dropped.

“Dray, this is incredible, but it might be a little above my pay grade,” I mentioned, leaning in a bit to speak quietly.

He hummed. “That’s why instead of splitting the bill how you like, I’m just going to pay for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Just let me be nice,” he said, turning the tables to scold me for once.

“Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”

“You look beautiful. Quit worrying.”

I attempted to drop my hand from his as he spoke with the hostess, though his grip only tightened a bit. I felt my cheeks flush a little when he flashed me a knowing smirk and the raise of a brow. We started walking back into the restaurant behind the waitress after a moment.

I spoke quietly as we went, “What, are you trying to romance me now, Malfoy?”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe I am. Are you opposed?”

I hid a smile. “No.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from me.

Dinner was beautiful, and wildly delicious. It definitely helped that I wasn’t terribly worried about the bill. I also can’t say I hated the idea of his family’s money going towards the meal of a wizard who was against practically everything they stood for. It felt like a small victory. Though, it was a bit strange to be surrounded by wizards who weren’t preoccupied with staring at us.

We stepped out of the restaurant, and rather than zipping someplace else, he was determined to walk to our next destination. He held my hand in his like he was afraid he’d lose me if he didn’t, swinging our arms along without a care.

“You seem happy,” I commented.

“I am,” he affirmed, bumping into me slightly. “I’m with you, for one. Plus, we haven’t received a single sideways glance from anyone around here. It’s nice that you’re the only person who knows me.”

I smiled to myself at that, letting him start swinging our arms again. He grinned over at me as we walked past crowds of people that grew increasingly larger. We probably looked ridiculous, but I certainly didn’t care. Not when I’d never seen him happier.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” I said.

“Go on, then.”

“Why did you bring me to Paris?”

He glanced at me again, eyes a little wider. I raised one brow in question. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember, but we were in some class. I don’t know which one, I think it was in second or third year,” he shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Oh,” I said, drawing his attention away.

We both looked up, suddenly seeing the peak of the tower come over a building. He made a decision to table my question, instead opting to tug me along as he started running ahead. We bolted forward, avoiding tons of people as we came up on the glittering structure, out of breath from both the run and the laughter at how silly we’d become over a hunk of metal. We walked the rest of the way until we were close enough to really look up at it. I held onto his arm with my free hand, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Wow.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.”

We stood quietly for a few moments, just to take it all in. The only thing I could really hear was the beat of my own heart and indecipherable conversation being had by the other people nearby. I finally looked back at him, and somehow he was still more gorgeous than everything else I’d seen that night.

He looked at me, a glimmer in his eye as that same old sweet smile showed on his face.

“So, what was the rest of that story?” I asked.

“Ah,” he said with a curt nod. “Well, in that class, someone had asked about portkeys. But before the professor had started to explain it, they called on you to pick anywhere in the world you’d like to go. I guess to demonstrate that a portkey could be enchanted in order to get to that place. You said you’d want to go to Paris and see the Eiffel tower.”

“You remembered that?”

He merely nodded. I tilted my head.

“How did you possibly keep that in mind after all this time?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve… I just remember when it comes to you.”

“That’s crazy,” I laughed. “I don’t understand how you could remember something that happened in a class almost ten years ago. We weren’t even friends then.”

“Well, I,” he began, eyes going starry and somehow prettier than they’d ever been, “I suppose I’ve always loved you.”

I fell completely quiet, about one billion thoughts speeding through my head. Only one rose above the others: I love you. But I still wasn’t saying it. Why wasn’t I saying it? Why wasn’t I saying anything at all?

“Sorry, that was too much to—”

I interrupted what would surely be a lively rambling session from him, and threw myself at him, our lips finally connecting for the first time. As soon as the shock wore off for him, he kissed me back. His lips were soft and careful against mine, his arms wrapping around my middle to pull me in closer, and my hands pressed against his chest. I smiled into the kiss, leaving a few lingering pecks against his lips before we broke apart.

I looked at him, taking in everything that I could about that moment. I sighed.

“You’re so pretty,” I said softly.

That definitely wasn’t what I meant to say.

He laughed. “Yeah?”

“Sorry,” I groaned with a laugh of my own, leaning my forehead against his chest.

He lifted my face with one hand under my chin, pressing one more soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you, is what I meant to say,” I noted.

“I knew this trip was a good idea.”

“So this was the plan from the start, hm?”

He smirked. “Not the plan. Just a hope.”

We went back the hotel room, thought not without my genius idea to grab a cheap bottle of wine first.

It felt more fitting than champagne given that we’d spend the rest of the night staring out of the window and laying lazy kisses on one another.

We found ourselves back at my flat a week later, almost as if nothing had changed. But really, everything had changed. Completely and totally.

We sat on my couch, our tea cold from sitting without any attention on the coffee table in front of us. He talked to me about nothing for hours, and there’s nothing else I’d wanted to be doing than wasting away the day with him. It had quickly become my favorite activity.

“You know,” he started, “inviting me over for tea that day after I’d made quite the reputation for myself was probably a stupid idea.”

“But?” I prodded.

“But,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before continuing, “I am utterly thankful you did.”

“Aww. My pretty boy,” I cooed, earning a groan from him.

“You can’t keep calling me that.”

He grabbed my hand as I reached to pinch at his cheeks, kissing my knuckles softly.

“Yes, I can. You secretly love it.”

He blushed. “I love you. There’s a difference.”

I sighed, cuddling into his side. “Does this mean you’re going to take me home and introduce me to your parents as your girlfriend, now?”

“I’m pretty certain I’ll have to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m going to inherit the manor one day.”

“And?” I questioned, laughing.

He kissed me again, speaking quietly against my lips.

“You won’t be my girlfriend forever,” he said with a smirk. “Gotta make sure you’ll like the place.”

#draco malfoy #oh kill me already #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy angst #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #luna still hates jk

[goldenbuckyyy]

HOLD ON

Summary: The aftermath of Harry finding you.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader (cheating together) Main characters x original characters.

Word Count: 4.1kish

Warnings: Cheating (Harry and Reader together), mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, bruising, and cuts.

A/N: IM BACK!! I am so so sorry it’s take me over a month to post this part! I can’t even believe it’s been that long. I got into a bad writing funk after my last post and spend the last two weeks just reading and not even writing truthfully. But, thank you everyone for your patience. I hope you all enjoy. REMEMBER TO READ THE FIRST TWO PARTS!! Song inspo: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet. 

Um, I’ve also reached 1.2k of you lovely people following me. 🥹 ily all. Thank you!!

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist || Masterlist

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt more afraid. 

He’s been afraid plenty of times in his life. More than he can count. He’s not ashamed to admit it. 

He’s not ashamed to admit he’s felt fear before. 

Off the top of his head, he was afraid for his judges response on the x factor stage, he was afraid for what was going to happen after they had lost, he was afraid when they went on hiatus, he was afraid when he went solo, he was afraid before he put out his first album, his second album, and most recently his third. He was afraid of many things. 

But you were there for every single one. 

And you calmed him down. You were his rock. His grounding statue when he most needed it. 

Every single time he had been afraid in the past, you were his voice of reason, and it didn’t matter who was his partner at the time. 

He knew you were going to be his wife one day. 

He just knew it. 

He was just too stupid to think you guys could ever be with anybody else. But you were happy with Asher and he was happy with Vivian. 

Or he let himself believe he was happy with her. 

Because you were happy. 

But at the end of the day, when he laid in bed and held her. Smelling her expensive shampoo in her hair when they cuddled…

It always reminded him she wasn’t you. 

But he toughed it out. Because you were happy. He loved seeing you happy. He could handle settling for second best if he still had you in his life and thankfully that was never an issue between you two. 

Now, Harry feels like a complete fucking idiot. 

Because if he had only made you his wife like he had wanted too, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

He wouldn’t be going over the speed limit in the London streets if he had. He wouldn’t be holding back his tears as he thinks of what you had just told him on the phone. 

But who’s he kidding? 

His eyes were full of tears, threatening to fall down his cheeks, swerving through cars, not caring if he got stopped right now, knowing he wouldn’t pull over, and his entire body was shaking. 

His hands were gripping onto the steering wheel. So hard that it was almost painful, one hand was maneuvering the steering wheel, while his other hand was gripping onto his cross necklace on his chest. The same necklace that you had gifted him years ago. 

You had told him you saw it at a jewelers shop one day and decided to get a matching pair. He’s worn it ever since. 

His eyes dash to his cell phone that’s on the console, your name taunting him on the screen, and he keeps the call connected. Just in case you woke up. 

Once Harry turned into your secluded street, his tires screeching at his fast movement, but he stepped on the gas pedal to go faster. 

His heart was racing as he pulled into your stone driveway. He quickly parked his SUV, taking notice that only your car was in the driveway, and he felt his body fill with nerves as to what was going to await him inside. 

With shaky hands and stumbling feet, he ran towards your front door. He instantly stilled at the front door, gulping down the lump in his throat as he reached for the handle, and pushed the door wide open. It was unlocked. 

The house was earily quiet and it made his skin break out into goosebumps. Harry’s body was shaking in fear of seeing you, he quickened his pace, running down your long entrance hallway, and not knowing entirely where you were, he shouted your name. 

Peering into the open rooms, trying to see if you were in the first opening of the living room, and he was getting anxious when he didn’t see you. 

He ran down towards the second opening of the hallway which was your kitchen and instantly his feet skidded to a halt. His feet screeching against your marbled floor. 

Harry gasped loudly at the scene in front of him, a wrenching surprising sob wrecked through his body as his eyes scanned the kitchen layout, and he felt pale. 

It looked like a bloody crime scene here. 

Bright red liquid splattered over the white marble floors and cabinets. He could see it all over on the countertops, against the wall, and on the kitchen stove. Glass was everywhere that his eyes could see. 

And then he saw you. 

Another loud uncontrollable sob wrecked through his body as he ran towards you, falling down to the floor next to your unconscious body, not caring about the glass breaking his skin, his hands immediately reaching for you, pulling you into his body, and he tried to shake you awake. 

Rapid tears fall down his cheeks immediately, his entire body is shaking with his sobs, his vision is cloudy, and he pulls you into his lap. He wraps one of his arms around your body and uses his free hand to move your hair away from your face. 

He keeps repeating sun and baby over and over again. Hoping you’d hear him somehow. Hoping you’d open your pretty eyes for him. 

His eyes take in your bloody nose, busted lip, your favorite lavender sweater is coated with blood in different spots, and same as your apron. He notices your limp hands have glass in different places, your leggings are black but he can see different areas with small shards of glass on them. And your feet. Your poor blue fuzzy socks are drenched in red. He’s not sure if it’s wine or blood. 

His eyes move back to your face and he stills when he sees the hand marks on your neck. The fresh ugly bruises that are showing up. He looks up into the air, releasing a shaky breath, gritting his teeth as tears flow down his face, and he curses underneath his breath. 

Harry is physically shaking with anger and guilt. He’s so upset at what Asher did to you. He feels like he can kill him, but he shoves that feeling away and focuses on you. 

He doesn’t care that he’s getting himself covered in wine and blood right now. His free hand has specs of your blood on it now, but he keeps wiping away the hair and blood from your face. 

Repeating “baby” to your face and kissing your face to wake you up. The metallic taste on his tongue makes him whimper. 

“Hold on, baby. Just hold on.”

His voice is shaky, weak, and desperate.

So fucking desperate. 

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re not reacting to anything he does, but thankfully you’re breathing. He has no idea what Asher did to you, but whatever he did. He’s going to pay for what he did. 

Harry notices your phone next to you. He takes a shaky breath in and wraps his arms around you to pick you up. He reaches for your phone as he lifts you, tucks your limp body into his arms, sniffs hard to try and hold in the rest of his tears, and hastily makes his way towards his SUV. 

He manages to open his back door and gently sets you down on the seats. He kisses your forehead with shaky lips and whispers, “It’s going to be okay. I-I’m here, sun.” 

He drives towards the nearest hospital and prays to god that he hasn’t been followed by paps. 

The entire drive to the hospital is rapid with his eyes constantly moving to the rear view mirror to look at you. To make sure you’re still there. To make sure you’re breathing. 

Harry doesn’t hesitate to park in the “no parking” zone at the emergency entrance, he immediately starts honking to try and catch someone’s attention from inside. He sees a security guard immediately come toward him and Harry knows he must look crazy. 

He jumps out of his driver seat, reaching for the back door to pull it open. 

“I need you to get me some help!” The security officer is trying to flag someone from the inside to come and help him. 

The officer looks at him in confusion, “Are you hurt, sir?” The office raises his eyebrows at his appearance. 

Harry shakes his head, quickly pulling you into him once more, he hitches you up in his arms, and starts walking towards the entrance. 

“It’s for her,” he says as he continues to walk into the ER entrance and immediately he can feel all eyes on him. 

He ignores the stares, yells at the officer to help him, and starts feeling anxious. And he follows the officer when he opens a back door that leads him to where he assumes all the nurses and doctors are. 

He can see different people running around, helping patients, and it’s incredibly loud. Loud beeping noises and chatter fills his ears. His mouth feels dry and he feels sick. 

He looks at you in his arms, a soft whimper escapes his lips, and the officer brings him towards a ground of huddles nurses that are chatting about something. 

One of them is smiling at another nurse and when her blue eyes met Harry’s, she instantly stops, mouth drops, and Harry can see her lips whisper his name in shock. 

But then she suddenly reacts and rushes towards him. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” She asks, her hands immediately reaching out to touch you, and Harry’s reflex is to curl you into his arms. Away from her touch. He’s terrified to let anybody touch you, but he knows you need it. 

“I…” Harry starts, throat raspy, and he holds eye contact with the nurse, “I need your utmost discretion,” he states in a plea, but tries to keep his voice steady. 

Harry sees from the corner of his eyes more nurses rushing towards him and one of them is holding a stretcher. 

A male nurse tries to reach for you as well, but the nurse in front of you- Harry quickly reads her name tag- Lily. 

Lily holds her hand up to stop the male nurse and she then sets her hand on Harry’s forearm, giving him a squeeze, her eyes not leaving his, and she says, “I promise you. We will be discreet.” 

Harry nods, tears welling up in his eyes, and his hands are gripping onto your skin. 

“But… you need to put her down on the stretcher.. so we can help her. Okay? Can you do that, sir?“ 

Lily moves her body to angle the stretcher and Harry quickly nods. He walks towards the stretcher, he gently sets you down, and squeezes your hands in his quickly. His shaking fingers move the sticky hair out of your face as you fall limp into the stretcher. He steps back. 

Harry stands there, frozen in his spot, and watches them rush you away to an empty room. 

“I’ll take you to a private room where you can wait for the doctor. Or myself for an update, okay?” 

Harry nods as he follows her down a hallway, he starts messing with the skin around his fingernails, and Lily opens the door to a private room. 

“You can wait here. Somebody will come speak to you soon about what happened, okay? Do you need any medical attention yourself?” Her voice is steady and calm. It’s what Harry needs right now. Her eyes look him up and down for any injuries. 

“I’m okay, maybe… maybe just a wet rag, please.” Harry says, dry tears on his cheeks making his face feel stiff, and he keeps eye contact with Lily. 

“Okay,” she says. She’s standing by the door, gives him a small smile, and then reaches out for Harry’s arm. She squeezes him.

“It's going to be okay, Mr. Styles. We got her now.” Her eyes are sincere and Harry’s face crumbles in anguish. 

“Thank you,” he croaks out, covering his face, and turning away from her view. 

He hears the door shut behind him and the only thing he can hear in the room is his soft cries. 

•••

Harry must have fallen asleep after he had gotten himself cleaned up because he almost jumps out of the chair he was slumped into when he feels someone touch his shoulder. 

“Sir! I’m so sorry!” He hears someone exclaim above him. He adjusts himself into the chair, uncrossing his arms, and is confused about his surroundings for just a second before he sees your face in his mind. 

He stands quickly, “How is she?” He quickly runs his hands over his eyes to wake himself up. 

He recognizes the same nurse as earlier, Lily, and she gives him an easy smile. 

“She’s okay right now. A slight brain bleed, but nothing major. Don’t panic. It’ll heal on its own, but we’re going to keep her overnight to monitor it. Thankfully no broken bones. She does have a couple fractured ribs, but…” she trails off, her eyes looking to the side, and she looks nervous. 

“What’s going on?” His body fills with worry instantly. 

“She woke up, Mr. Styles.” 

Relief washes throughout his body and he silently says a thank you. 

“Oh, thank god. That’s good… that’s good, right?” Eyebrows furr when Lily nods, but doesn’t follow Harry’s breath of happiness. For a split second, he feels happy that she's awake and okay. But then Lily is rolling her lips in and biting the bottom one. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks. His voice shakes. The anticipation of what she’s about to say fills him with dread once more. 

“Mr. Styles, we asked her what happened and she doesn’t remember. She might have a concussion or she might be blocking out the memory because of the trauma. She simply might not want to remember. It’s a way trauma victims protect themselves in these types of scenarios. It’s not uncommon.” 

“O-okay?” 

Lily puts her hand on Harry’s shoulder as if to comfort him for what she’s about to say. Harry feels confused as the comforting touch. He fumbles with the skin around his fingers in anticipation. 

“She states that her boyfriend would never have done this.” 

“W-what? She— wait— she said that?” Harry feels even more confused. He wasn’t imagining the phone call. He distinctly remembers what you had said. 

Lily nods as he continues, “S-she told me. She told me that he hit her. That he—-“ he stops himself from continuing. Gulping down the forming lump in his throat. He bites his tongue because he doesn’t need anybody knowing about his personal business. 

Harry slightly looks up to keep his tears at bay, sniffling slightly, and his eyes start to burn. He looks back down at Lily. 

“He found out about something… something she didn’t want him knowing and that’s when he did that to her. I-I swear.” 

“Mr. Styles, I’m sorry. But… If the patient says that’s not what happened.. then we have to believe the patient.” She almost looks guilty. 

“Even if she doesn’t remember it happening?” Harry asks in desperation, not believing what she’s saying. 

Lily nods with a small frown on her lips. 

“I can take you to see her, if you’d like.” 

Harry immediately nods and follows her down to your room. Lily knocks when they stand in front of the room and when Harry walks in, his lips quiver and his heart feels heavy. 

“Oh, baby.” He whimpers out as he takes in your appearance. He manages to grasp onto the door to ground himself from the way his knees buckle at the sight of you. They’ve cleaned you up, but all the bruising from your face and neck makes him wish it was him in the bed instead of you. 

You're laying down against the hospital bed, covered in a white blanket, with your head tilted back, but it only showcased the ugly, raw, and red marks on your neck. It made Harry internally weep at the sight. You have a machine on your right side connected to your IV and Harry can only imagine its fluids. Or maybe pain medication. He doesn’t dwell on it too long. 

Your arms are laying over the blankets and resting on your stomach. Your hands are delicately covered in white gauze, but only your palms. And he knows it’s because of all the tiny glass cuts you had. 

When his eyes land in your face, he wishes he could erase this picture from his brain. He pleads to the gods above that this is the last time he will ever see you hurt. He doesn’t think he can survive seeing you like this again. 

Your bottom lip has a big cut on it which is making your lip a little swollen. Your entire right cheek is bright red with undertones of purples and you have one big bruise forming on your left cheekbone. Your nose has a small splint on it, but he can see the swelling underneath and the bruising on the sides. 

Harry doesn’t even want to think about what you went through. 

It’s almost as if you felt his presence because you slowly tilt your head down and your eyes search the room. When you meet his gaze, your entire body relaxes with relief and his name falls out of your lips like butter. 

Harry is immediately at your side, wanting to hold you and touch you, but he stops himself.  He hesitates in front of you and your covered hand reaches for him. His hand immediately covers yours, warm with gauze but cold fingers, and he starts crying. 

“I-I,” Harry tries to form words, but his voice is muffled because of his sobs. He falls into the chair next to you and covers his face with his arms on top of the bed. 

Your hand is immediately intertwined with his curls and you're rubbing his scalp to try to calm him down. 

“They told me you found me?” You question and he cries harder at your voice. It’s raspy and hoarse. You don’t sound like yourself, you sound like you’re in pain, and he knows you are. It makes him cry even harder. 

Harry can only nod at your question. He lifts his head to look at you and you try to give him a small smile. He’s looking into your eyes, your beautiful eyes, and he sniffles. 

He ghosts one of his hands over your face and you almost want to melt into it, but you don’t. Because you know how bad you look and how every single part of your body hurts right now. 

Instead, you grab his hand in yours once again. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper with tears in your own eyes as you watch his red eyes. His green eyes are bright against the red, his nose is red too, cheeks are flushed, lips bright pink, and he looks beautiful. 

“Do you remember anything?” Harry asks between his sniffles. 

You roll your lips inside your mouth for a second and bite down on your unaffected side, eyebrows furred down, and you shake your head. 

“I… I don’t. I’m… I’m assuming someone broke in? Maybe someone tried to steal from me and did this?” Your voice sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself this is what happened. Instead of the reality that Harry knows about. 

“Baby,” Harry whimpers out. “You called me… and told me Asher had found out about us.” 

“Asher?” You question in a low tone, feeling confused once again. 

“You… you said he hit you.” Harry gulps down the lump in his throat after he speaks those words and takes in your reaction. 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. Frowning, you exclaim, “Hit me?! Asher would never, Harry.” 

Suddenly, you’re pulling your hand out of his hold and Harry feels like you’re retracting from him. 

“Baby, I wouldn’t lie—-“ 

“Stop it!” You cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest, ignoring the sharp pain that runs through your body as you touch your aching ribs. 

His eyes dart to your stomach and back to you. 

“Are you—“ 

“Stop.” You spat at him, feeling furious at him for even suggesting that Asher would do this to you. Asher would never do this. Never. 

“Asher would never do this to me, Harry. Are you—- what are you— are you lying to me? Is this a joke? Is this some sick fucking joke? Maybe I did this to myself!! I’m fucking clumsy. I’m sure I just fell on my own. Maybe I dropped the wine bottle myself and tripped and hurt myself!” You cry out to him as fast tears start running down your cheeks. Your mouth speaks faster than your own brain. Spilling anything that would make more sense than what Harry is telling you. 

“Baby. Baby. Baby.. what are you.. what are you saying? Baby, stop. He caused your head to bleed. He caused you a brain bleed, baby. You.. you didn’t do this to yourself. How could.. how could you have done this to yourself?” Harry cries as he stumbles over his words quickly at you. 

“Asher didn’t do this to me,” you state confidently even though you feel confused about the whole thing. “Why would he do this to me, H?” More tears filling your eyes at Harry’s accusations. 

Asher didn’t do this to you. He couldn’t have. Could he? 

“He did this to you! He hit you!” His voice goes higher as his frustrations rise, his lips in a frown. 

“You’re lying!! Stop lying to me. Why would Asher do this to me, Harry?! He loves me. And I know you love me. You’re my best fucking friend, but you’re crossing a line. He would never do this to me. You need to leave. You’re lying to me. I don’t want you here.” 

“W-what?” Harry’s gaping at you, mouth dropped in shock, and a sob escapes his lips once more. 

“Go. Now! I don’t want to look at you!” You turn away from him, sniffling, and wiping your tears away. 

“You can’t be serious, Y/N. Listen to yourself,” he tries to plead with you as he tries to reach for your hand, but you turn your body to move. Ignoring the pain it causes you. You don’t look at him. 

“Leave,” you demand once more. Ignoring his cries and his words. 

“O-okay, baby. I’m going to leave. But… but… please. Please try to remember my love. Please,” he begs you. 

You don’t say anything. You just stare out the window until you hear him get up and leave. You sit in silence for a couple minutes. Trying to think about everything he said. You wipe away your tears and reach for the call light to call for your nurse. 

You press the red button and adjust yourself to relax against the mattress, trying to inhale a deep breath, and Lily comes into the room. 

“Hi, love. Did you call? Need some help?” 

“Yes, Lily. I did. Harry gave you my phone, right?” 

“He did.”

“Okay,” you make eye contact with her. “Can you please call the person under the name of Asher? Can you let him know what’s happened and where I am? The code is 0509.”

A look of uncertainty flashes over Lily’s face, but she quickly controls her reaction. You don’t question it because she nods quickly right after. 

“Of course, Mrs. Y/L/N.” She smiles at you, “I’ll be right back.” 

Lily leaves the room and you close your eyes for a second. 

You try to unclear your mind, trying to remember what happened, and flashes of what happened play out. 

You see the wine bottle falling down onto the floor loudly.

You see yourself crawling into the corner and the feeling of true terror fills your body at the memory. 

You can see yourself begging the person to stop, but you can’t see their face. 

Your face crumbles in frustration at not being able to remember the one most important detail. 

You sigh, opening your eyes, and you decide to wait for Asher to walk through the door. 

Maybe he can help you remember. Maybe he’s spoken to the police and maybe they’ve already found the person who did this. 

But there’s also a part of you wondering why he isn’t here right now. Wouldn’t he have found you after coming home from work? Maybe he had to work late. 

You shake your head at the intrusive thoughts. 

You try to relax once again, trying not to feel bad for kicking Harry out, but you know Asher would have never done this to you. 

He would have never. 

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #Harry styles x influencer!reader #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #illicitaffairsau #Harry styles imagine #Harry styles fic rec #Harry styles cheater #cheater!harry styles