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ataraxiaspainting · 6 months ago

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The Grand Design.

Yan Arlecchino x F Reader.

Synopsis: Spring is soon to arrive in Fontaine, thawing out the waters and making the land greener. After weeks of being held within the walls of Hotel Bouffes d'ete, The Knave has promised you that you may go to the Florence Festival together as a reward for your good behavior. Though you are now here, you soon are reminded of how Arlecchino’s definition of a reward is quite different from yours. Still, it is best to remain on her good side. The man you two are following should have known that well too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, spoilers for Arlecchino's story quest, and minor character death/violence.

Word Count: 4.1k.

*~*~*~*

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Brutus (Instrumental) by The Buttress

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin

Bernadette by IAMX

Who Is She ? by I Monster

Bang Bang Bang Bang - Remastered 2021 by Sohodolls

Deutschland by Rammstein

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Beautiful Is Boring by BONES UK

Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Swimming Pool by Marie Madeleine

*~*~*~*

“Something wicked this way comes, and as I set to face it, I'm unsure, should I embrace it, should I run? What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?” – The Buttress, Brutus

*~*~*~*

The room that The Knave put you in when you first arrived here never fails to seem smaller than it is. Your designated bed is placed in the middle of the wall farthest from the locked doors. There is a large window on each side made of up pink and white stained glass, but no matter how much you attempt to punch them, they never shatter. The floor has carpet on top of it, just soft enough for your bare feet to feel comfortable.

Arlecchino never lets you out of your room even for meals, and thus had a wooden table installed in front of the right window. There are two chairs too; one for you and one for whomever is put up to the task of watching you while you eat. Only to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients, she said after you gained enough courage to ask. I don’t want you to get ill. You had attempted to skip meals before, but as soon as the children who had cleaned up your plates and trash after every meal had found out, “Father” was soon notified. She was not completely furious, but she was most definitely not pleased. She scolded you for what felt like hours. All you are doing is lowering your strength… surely you’ll understand eventually.

You don’t throw away your food anymore, after she was the one that oversaw you eating every day for around three weeks, her eyes seemingly staring into your soul.

At first, you ate your food because you wanted the children in charge of watching you to not suffer punishments if they were not up to the task.

But after having enough conversations with Arlecchino, your motivations changed. Once an agent of the House of the Hearth used the vacant room beside your own to sneak out and run away. From the sounds you heard from the other side of the wall, it seems they were found out immediately. Arlecchino didn’t seem distraught when she visited you a few minutes later. Her appearance was not unusual, but from the crashing noises, you knew that the agent must have tried to fight The Knave herself.

They were not successful, that much was clear. Arlecchino hadn’t even broken a sweat, while they were fighting for their life.

There was a gift for you in one of her hands. A small black box with a red ribbon. You soon connected the dots. The escapee had the worst luck. Arlecchino was already on her way to your room, and just so happened to witness them opening the unlocked window. They didn’t scream though, despite all the other loud sounds of throwing vases and such, which also showed Arlecchino finished off her target quicker than they could beg for mercy or help.

Here at the House of the Hearth, everyone is responsible for their own actions. Loyalty shall not go unrewarded. Obedience shall not go unsupported. But… Foolishness shall not be without a hefty price to pay. Lies shall not be without precious items being taken as due compensation.

So, now your top priority is to be on your best behavior solely for yourself.

Every child here looks up to you. They have treated you as such ever since you woke up behind locked doors. But they also ensure that Arlecchino’s lessons are as drilled into your skull as her lessons are drilled into theirs. They ensure that you remain compliant.

All in all, they have taught you more about the House of the Hearth than “Father” ever could. The children scold you whenever you don’t follow the House’s long list of rules as if they are your caretakers. In a way perhaps they are, in Arlecchino’s point of view, but you would never admit to that. They reward you whenever you remember to water the few plants they had placed beside your bedroom window and cheer whenever you greet their savior with a bow and a good afternoon, Madam. They take away the few books Arlecchino has given you whenever you refuse to eat and yell at you whenever you refuse to even look at her.

Why are you so ungrateful?

We only want what’s best for you!

Do you wish to break Father’s heart?

So you don’t disobey them anymore. You had realized that they were not disciplining you to have The Knave not be mad at them. No. If only it were that simple. They discipline you because they want you to be a part of their family. That is why the younger ones slip drawings of you underneath your doors. That is why the older ones joke around with you during mealtimes.

You don’t throw out any drawings given to you.

You attempt to laugh at unfunny jokes. To get access to more freedoms, you must be on your best behavior.

You have to get the children’s blessings to even be considered good enough to step into the House’s flower garden.

It has a glass ceiling with all sorts of carved plant designs on top. Rainbow Roses. Romaritime Flowers. Lumidouce Bells. Lakelight Lilies. There is a path right down the middle to see each of them in all their glory. At the end of it, there is a small tree just big enough to shadow one or two sitting people. That place has become your sacred spot. You read and even take naps there, when your unbendable schedule allows it.

That place is also where Arlecchino first proposed an award for behaving well for the children.

Lyney tells me you are adjusting well. You noticed that her tone was the smallest bit higher, but you didn’t pay attention to the way the corners of her mouth pointed upwards just slightly.

You didn’t answer her, instead nodding your head.

I trust his judgment, and therefore you can choose a reward from the two I have selected for us.

As soon as she says the first option, your hearing gives out. Your mind is focused on it and it alone. The Florence Festival. An opportunity to finally sweep your hands on blades of grass and feel the wind flow into and out of your hair. It’s paradise, plain and simple.

*~*~*~*

The small circular table’s wood is light in color, and its iron framework leaves little to be desired. The chairs possess a similar appearance due to the use of the same materials, but the top rounded rail has a fake red rose attached. It was likely formed from melted ore that was poured into molds instead of being carved by hand, but you don’t dare ask about it to the one sitting across from you, sipping her hot beverage and looking at the flower fields in the distance.

You don’t want to see anyone get in trouble for your pickiness.

Right?

You observe in silence as a single petal drops from the vase of flowers between your two dishes, almost as if the universe is conspiring to vex Arlecchino much at the expense of the fates of those who cross her.

You are unsure as to whether or not you count.

The food on your side compared to the food on her side could not be more different; rainbow macarons and a latte and steak tartare and a cup of black tea. But they still have a common similarity despite their appearance and ingredients; they are outrageously overpriced.

The main dishes you can understand. After all, they are this cafe’s specialties along with the top two bestsellers. But the drinks are another matter entirely. You cannot possibly comprehend in what world would a cup of tea with no sugar or cream amount to ten thousand hundred Mora and that being a reasonable price. The same thing with your latte, but you figure that the added sugar and cream had understandably raised the price.

Though twenty thousand Mora for something that took less than ten minutes to prepare when you lived by yourself is evil. Some guilt stirs within you when you think about the total amount of Mora Arlecchino has spent on you thus far on this little outing. You two have not even made it to the Florence Festival’s famous entrance arch yet. In addition, surely there will be other things she will get you, either by your request or by hers.

The Knave raises her hand like a corpse arising from its slumber.

“From what my information sources have told me, this… ‘Florence Festival’ is about the arrival of spring. It sounds rather wholesome, in my opinion… and it sounds like something the children would like to partake in, next time.” She looks down at your still full plate. “Is the cuisine not up to your expectations? We can go somewhere else if you would like.”

You shake your head, and pick up the pink macaron in an attempt for Arlecchino to not call over a rather unfortunate waiter. “No, no… It’s fine. I promise… Peruere.”

You spoke her true name with a softness akin to a dove’s plucked feathers. She does not smile, but instead leans over and grabs the red macaron off your plate. You do not stop her. Her teeth sink into it right up to the center where the raspberry jam is. The filling leaks out onto her lips, but soon blends in as they share a similarly saccharine hue.

“It is unkind to lie to me.”

Between her fingers, the macaron is crushed to near dust within a single motion. Arlecchino does not scowl, but there is a small frown on her face. A tsk sound. Disappointment.

“They’re… rather stale, aren’t they [First]?”

“I shall call over the foolish owner of this establishment, and then we shall go see the rest of this festival.”

You pray not for the owner, but for you. Arlecchino's vigilant gaze is constantly fixed on you, making selfishness seem like a mere reflex.

*~*~*~*

“I must admit I have other plans relating to this festival.” Arlecchino sighs, slowly her walking speed until she comes to a stop.

You copy her movements like you are her reflection, but unlike what she sees in pools of blood, you don’t speak when she does.

She puts one of her clawed hands near her chin as she continues. “Consider it to be an immovable obstacle, if that is how you wish to see it. But I still need your help regardless.”

You suppress all feelings of wanting something else than taking orders day in and day out, not wanting your metaphorical leash to be pulled. Arlecchino looks to her right, past the stalls of event sellers, and to the back of a young man.

“If it also makes you feel better, you shall be rewarded for assisting me.” She offers. “After our task is done, I shall buy you anything and everything you want here. The cafe was just a little sample of all the wonders I can give you if you earn them.”

Your focus is not on her words but on the stalls. It is unintentional, she knows that. But she has never been one to tolerate disrespect from anyone, and so she snaps her fingers to bring your gaze back to her. You look up at her like you are one of her apostles. She has attained your attention, your fear, and your eyes once more, all without harming a single Crystalfly. Who knows how long this will last before you regress back to old habits? She hopes for your sake, that the day you divert from her love is the day this world falls down. Even then, she will catch up to you no matter how many people she has to bury, or even if she has to bury herself.

You two will never be apart, because she won’t let anyone do so, even if it was the Tsaritsa herself.

“Yes, Arlecchino?”

Your voice is not nearly as trembling as it used to be, but to her, that is a great thing. It means that you have the strength to carry yourself properly, but you still depend on following the rules to not be scolded. Newer children who did not ask to be in the Fatui have acted similarly once she has given them a stern talking to. Their heads are tilted upwards, and they have their one hand on their chests. The other is always behind their back with two of their fingers crossed. While you possess the former, you do not possess the latter anymore. Arlecchino is proud of you, for that. You must have learned plenty from the children. While she is not your father, she is still the head of the House of the Hearth, and all other body parts follow suit.

Like the spider she so loved growing up though, if the head is cut off in any way, the legs will still be able to flourish. She learned that from observing specifically jumping spiders. When a much larger spider came, it bit off her chosen jumping spider’s head and left the rest of the corpse. The legs scurried away.

The legs still lived their life even without the head in place. The children will follow suit eventually, once Arlecchino eventually perishes. Though you will follow her. She expects nothing less. Thus, she already has preparations for what is to come on that fateful day.

It will be painless though. She guarantees that.

“Follow him,” She orders. “Befriend him, if you would like. Just please don’t get too attached, now.”

*~*~*~*

When you’re off to do your task, Arlecchino reminisces of better times. She sighs, sits down on one of the nearby benches, crosses one leg over the other, and looks down at her black hands. The same ones that hold others that are brimming with purity. Though she has never touched your hands, she can tell they are warm and soft, and everything else hers are not, from how much hand lotion you use each week and how often you manicure your nails. She doesn’t want to ask you, but the reason for this is unknown to her. Is she afraid of rejection? No. That cannot be it.

You wouldn’t dare reject her, after all, that you learned never to do at Hotel Bouffes d'ete. Lyney and Lynette were your main teachers if she remembers properly. Though, now that she thinks about it, Foltz must have had some lessons for you as well. He is not a cruel boy to those who have earned Arlecchino’s trust, but at the same time, he has no mercy for those who break Father’s rules. Lynette must have stopped him on multiple counts every time you acted out of line.

Foltz is too impulsive, while Lynette is frankly too calculating.

That is why she chose Lyney to teach you most of the ropes she set out.

Lyney is good at that sort of thing.

He has the power to get everyone to listen to his beck and call with a simple smile and a few words. She also trusted he would help you feel more comfortable, as Lyney always gives gifts and speaks more gently to newcomers. With his help, Arlecchino knows very specific things about you, details that outsider Fatui spies would never be able to grasp. Whether or not you told him those things is insignificant. Lyney may not be as observant as Lynette, but he still has a knack for seeing finer habits and actions. Arlecchino also knows though that because of the twins’ bleeding hearts, they often bury anything Foltz will tell on before he sees them. After all, Foltz still has yet to grasp certain aspects of your body language and speech patterns because he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, but Lyney and Lynette know much more because they spend the most time with you.

She doesn't mind it at all, because they treat you like family. That is all Arlecchino wants when it comes to you, to make you see their way and for everyone to get along.

…

If only the faces of the Hearth stayed the same, that they only grew and never lessened. It disappoints her, whenever she has to deal with people that are ordered to be erased.

But even after they are erased by her, sometimes the dead come back in surprising ways. Like the man you are following. It pains her, somewhere deep down. She knows that it is for the best of the House, but emotions cannot be suppressed forever.

She almost weeps when she thinks of a familiar face but closes her eyes before tears can fall.

“Pierre Snezhevich,” she says. “You had the chance to be reborn, took it… and now, for what? This time you are destined to die for good, I’m afraid.”

She takes the bundle of dried daffodils from her pocket and lays them beside her.

*~*~*~*

“I… daffodils are my favorite flower.”

The man takes but a few steps closer as he says those words, smiling. But the moment you attempt to bridge the gap yourself, he stops and looks around. His pointer finger adjusted his glasses as he looked more in peril than happy. The other hand drops the bundle of daffodils near his feet, and you see them both retreat into his leather jacket’s pockets.

You don’t move any closer, afraid that you may scare him off with any sort of movement. You don’t move any closer, afraid of scaring him away and invoking Arlecchino’s wrath. If you fail this mission, who knows how long it will take before you’re allowed to go outside again?

You simply wait in place with your hands in front of you, and attempt to give him the most comforting smile you can muster. But your acting skills are still subpar when compared to The Knave and her children. So because of that, the man doesn’t move from his position either, scowling.

“Need something?” He asks, making it glaringly obvious he doesn't trust you in the slightest. “If you have something to say… say it already. Please.”

“Uh… I just complimented the bouquet in your hand. I… don’t really have anything else to say in particular, I just wanted to strike up a conversation.”

The man looks past you, and you don’t hear a verbal response.

Instead what you hear is the clattering of high heels touching the path’s bricks.

“Ah, dearest, here you are.”

A familiar clawed hand rests just above your collarbone, the arm just above the opposing shoulder. You don’t speak and only watch as the man’s expression delves little by little into complete terror. His eyes widen and his knees crumble.

“Eric Draftler… What a surprise. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“You… two know each other? I was just asking about the daffodils,” You play into the lie, this little image Arlecchino told you to sketch with hardly any directions on whatever to do. The wind leads the daffodil petals on the ground into the air, and soon some of them are gone. Only the leaves remain. “This… is my fiancée. Arlecchino.”

“Didn’t I just tell you we know each other?”

“Yes but still,” You don’t look into her eyes, instead staring at Eric’s shadow from across the path. For you know what is lurking within their depths, somewhere deep down in there. Disappointment, and a scolding waiting to happen. You can practically hear it now, her voice edging on anger with no ounce of any other emotion in her tone. “I just wanted him to remember if he… forgot. That’s all.”

Gradually, as you both proceed, Eric begins to move further and further away from you, walking backward. Eventually, you manage to guide him to a less crowded section of the festival, almost as if you pushed him there.

“Tell me, why did you kill Ginelle?”

Arlecchino’s voice is no longer friendly, and her grasp on your neck area is tighter. But you still don’t dare to ask her to stop, because that will make your injuries far worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fatui scum.” Eric hisses, his arms now covering his stomach as he turns paler. “I have never met you.”

Arlecchino lets go of you, crossing her arms as she gets closer. “Oh really?”

“Not in person at least!” Eric says, almost yelling. “You-”

As Arlecchino puts a finger to her lips though, Eric’s voice gets quieter.

The clattering of high heels also gets quieter as she gets the closest she can be to Eric without giving up the illusion of common courtesy. She shakes her head and looks down on him. Arlecchino never tolerates anything other than murmuring voices, gentle singing, or absolute silence.

It’s something you have come to know quite well. This rule has no exceptions.

“Now, now, Mister Draftler.” She leans just slightly. But her head is still held high. “I just wanted a conversation. I promise you that this conflict can result in no physical fighting if you just listen to what I have to say.”

Eric does not move back anymore. While his mind is most likely forwarding the flight response, his body is stuck at a standstill. It’s a stance you have grown to know well when Arlecchino approaches someone; them being an enemy, a friend, or otherwise is of no significance to her. All she wants is control, and to appear above everyone else.

Whether to guide, defend, or crush depends on your perspective more than hers. She has the power to make dreams come true but often chooses to conjure nightmares instead. They teach better lessons that way in her opinion, regardless of whether they are the last lesson they will ever learn or one of the first in a long line of those to come.

“You’re simply overreacting, I’m afraid.” A tsking sound emerges from her throat as she continues to look down into the eyes of her already-defeated foe. “I do not wish to detain you and bring you to Snezhnaya for further questioning. My dear [First] will be all alone with no one to care for her quite like I do if I have to go all the way to the Zapolyarny Palace to oversee your trial and due punishment. I am sure you don’t want that either, yes?”

Eric does not respond, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know your past life, don’t you?” Arlecchino asks, no, states. “You most likely don’t remember anything but key fragments, but that is more than enough to justify giving you the death sentence. When you attempted to sneak out via that room next to [First]’s, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You repay me by killing your own sister?”

While Arlecchino does not tolerate loud noises from other people, she has nothing against raising her own voice. So, she does just that.

“How dare you.” She steps just a bit closer, having her arms crossed once again. “You were my child once, Pierre. But no longer.” Arlecchino puts a hand out towards Eric and squeezes. The man begins to choke, clawing at his throat.

You put your hands over your eyes, and wait until it is over.

…

You’re not sure how long it takes for Eric to die.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, you think. But time dragged on as you attempted to blur out the sounds of Eric’s gasps and scratching.

From the little bit you allowed yourself to see, you could have sworn Arlecchino was smiling.

“You didn’t do the best job, I’m afraid.” You hear The Knave say, and realize she is talking to you.

“I’m sorry.”

She sighs then, you think. The clattering of her high heels gets louder as she approaches you. Then a thump.

“It’s alright. You still managed to get the target distracted while I did the rest. In addition, this was not a terrible outcome for your first mission.” Arlecchino puts a hand on your head, and you uncover your eyes, looking up at her. “Be proud, [First].”

Her nails don’t poke into your scalp like you feared they would. You’re grateful for that.

“Well, a deal is a deal, yes? Let us enjoy this festival while it lasts.” She turns around to look at the body behind you two. “Oh, and don’t worry about that. It’ll stay here to teach a lesson to fools.”

You weren’t worried about that in the first place.

You’re worried about what will happen to you when your plans of escaping are executed.

“Is something the matter?”

You attempt to smile, but if anything you look exhausted. “No. I’m just… happy.”

“I’m glad.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #author aya #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #i got mona instead of her so this is the next best thing i can have </3

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allthingsgofestival · 1 year ago

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Suki Waterhouse

Hometown: Hammersmith, London, UK

First kiss: Strange

Tips for school photo day: Clean teeth, fresh outfit, experiment with the hair

High school Suki vs. today Suki: High school Suki was a lot more athletic and stretched a lot more than Suki now. Less acne now, and a slightly sunnier disposition.

High school fashion staple: Mary Janes

High school fashion statement: How dangerously low you can get your school skirt or trousers

When you think of a typical American high school experience: I think of Bring It On or something like that. Dancing cheerleaders. All that stuff. It seems so alien. I think of prom. We don’t have prom in England. It all seems like a magical fairy world. Everyone’s in love.

High school superlative: Definitely class clown

Put one of your songs in a high school movie: D.E.B.S. with either "Blessed" or "Good Looking." It’s my favorite movie of all time. I watched it the other night. That would be the best thing.

Tumblr Class of 2023 @ All Things Go

📸: Brooke Marsh

#suki waterhouse #tumblr yearbook #tumblr university #all things go #all things go festival

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literaryvein-reblogs · 21 days ago

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Writing Notes: Abbreviations

Abbreviations, one of the most noticeable features of present-day English linguistic life, would form a major part of any superdictionary.

6 Types of Abbreviations

INITIALISMS

Items which are spoken as individual letters, such as BBC, DJ, MP, EEC, e.g., and USA; also called alphabetisms.

The vast majority of abbreviations fall into this category.

Not all use only the first letters of the constituent words:

PhD, for example, uses the first two letters of the word philosophy.

GHQ and TV take a letter from the middle of the word.

ACRONYMS

Initialisms which are pronounced as single words:

NATO, laser, UNESCO, and SALT (talks).

Such items would never have periods separating the letters – a contrast with initialisms, where punctuation is often present (especially in older styles of English).

However, some linguists do not recognize a sharp distinction between acronyms and initialisms, but use the former term for both.

CLIPPING

A part of a word which serves for the whole, such as "ad" and "phone".

These examples illustrate the two chief types:

The first part is kept (the commoner type, as in demo, exam, pub, Gill).

The last part is kept (as in bus, plane).

Sometimes a middle part is kept (e.g., fridge and flu).

There are also several clippings which retain material from more than one part of the word, such as maths (UK), gents, and specs.

"Turps" is a curiosity, in the way it adds an -s.

Several clipped forms also show adaptation, such as:

fries (from French fried potatoes), Betty (from Elizabeth), and Bill (from William).

BLENDS

A word which is made out of the shortened forms of two other words, such as:

brunch (breakfast + lunch)

heliport (helicopter + airport)

smog (smoke + fog)

Eurovision (European + television)

Scientific terms frequently make use of blending (as in the case of bionic).

As do brand names (a device which cleaned your teeth while you used the phone might be called Teledent)

And fashionable neologisms.

AWKWARD CASES

Abbreviations which do not fall clearly into the above 4 categories.

Some forms can be used either as initialisms or acronyms (UFO – ‘U F O’ or ‘you-foe’).

Some mix these types in the one word (CDROM, pronounced ‘seedee- rom’).

Some can form part of a larger word, using affixes (ex-JP, pro-BBC, ICBMs).

Some are used only in writing (Mr, St – always pronounced in full in speech).

FACETIOUS FORMS

TGIF - Thank God It’s Friday

CMG - Call Me God (properly, ‘Companion of St Michael and St George’)

KCMG Kindly Call Me God (properly, ‘Knight Commander of St Michael and St George’)

GCMG God Calls Me God (properly, ‘Grand Cross of St Michael and St George’)

AAAAAA Association for the Alleviation of Asinine Abbreviations and Absurd Acronyms.

NOTES

Often thought to be an exclusively modern habit, the fashion for abbreviations can be traced back over 150 years.

In 1839, a writer in the New York Evening Tatler comments on what he calls ‘the initial language … a species of spoken short-hand, which is getting into very general use among loafers and gentlemen of the fancy, besides Editors, to whom it saves much trouble in writing …’.

He was referring to OK (‘all correct’), PDQ (‘pretty damn quick’) – two which have lasted – GT (‘gone to Texas’), LL (‘liver loafers’), and many other forms introduced, often with a humorous intent, by society people.

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References ⚜ Basics & Refreshers

#abbreviations #writing reference #langblr #writeblr #spilled ink #dark academia #creative writing #writing prompt #literature #speech #writing notes #writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #dialogue #linguistics #words #writing resources

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jahayla-parker · 3 months ago

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OMG another idea! what about freddy x wife!reader? where she is filming her morning routine (skin care, breakfast, mini workout or yoga or stuff like that, ya know?) and we see freddy in the background and he'll make small comments on stuff then just joins her half way through

Morning Routine : Freddy Carter x Wife!Reader

Descr: Freddy’s wife y/n is asked by Company UK (a British Magazine Agency) to film her morning routine for her fans and her husband ends up guest starring in it. Fluff

Warnings: mentions of exercise and medications., flirtations and relationship components, marriage, food/eating, I think that’s all!

“Hi everyone! It’s y/n y/l/n Carter! This is the first time I’ve done one of these, so hopefully you like it!” Y/n chuckled shyly. She bit her lip bashfully as she saw her husband mouth ‘you’ve got this’ from behind her camera. She pulled herself together and grinned at the camera as she began to explain what she was going to be recording today. The magazine, Company UK, had requested that she film a morning routine video for her fans.

“We’re going to start off with my skincare routine,” y/n narrated as she steadied her phone in the corner of the bathroom counter. “But, first I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Okay now that that’s done,” y/n commented as she dried her mouth. “Time for skincare! So, I start with y/fav/product and we’re going to put a little of this,” she said and showed the camera her next product. “I just rub it in nice and gently like this and it’ll help to enhance things!” She grinned over at the camera as she set the latest product down. “And just like that, we’ve finished my daily skincare routine!”

“Even though she doesn’t need any of it to look as radiant as she always does”, Freddy commented lovingly as he walked past the doorway to their bathroom.

Y/n grinned widely and laughed giddily to herself. “Another part of my routine,” she winked and nodded her head backwards towards the door. “My hype man for life,” she beamed as she proudly lifted her left hand up to show her cherished wedding ring.

“So now that we’re back in the bedroom, I take my morning medications and supplements,” y/n informed her viewers as she walked to her dresser. “I like to take them with a full glass a water to start off my proper hydration for the day”. Y/n intentionally kept the bottles at an angle so that the names of her prescriptions wouldn’t be in view of the camera. “I won’t show what exactly I’m taking as I can’t give medical advice, after all, I’m not a doctor!” she joked with a careless shrug of her shoulders.

“Smart enough to be though,” Freddy murmured as he walked by. He gave y/n a quick kiss on her cheek as he continued on his route to their closet in order to grab some clean clothes out for himself for the day.

“They said to simply comment on my process and otherwise act as normal for the video,” y/n told the camera with a content smile. “And clearly, my sweet husband is taking that responsibility seriously”. It was true, Freddy was always loving on her like this.

“Mmm,” Freddy hummed and looked over at y/n due to hearing her mentioning him. “I can shut up,” he joked, blushing some. He grinned as his wife lovingly shook her head as she walked over to him. His grin grew as y/n relaxed in his arms and let him pull her in for a hug.

“I’m not complaining Freddy, but you know, they’re probably going to think it’s staged.”

Freddy shrugged, “let ‘em think what they will, love”. He brushed some hair from y/n’s forehead and looped it around her ear, his hand roaming admiringly over her cheek and jaw as she gazed warmly into his eyes. “I’m going to go change and then start brunch, alright?” He whispered softly. Y/n nodded making him hum softly and give her a tender squeeze before they parted.

“Uh anyways”, y/n spoke through her giggles as she moved closer to the camera. Focus. She blinked rapidly as she tried to guide her mind back to paying attention to her routine video and not on her sweet husband.

“So I don’t know if you guys could hear our conversation just now or not,” y/n transitioned, “but those of who have watched some of my husband Freddy’s more viral interviews will already know this, but he loves to cook breakfast slash brunch. Like loves it.” “I’m a very lucky woman,” she grinned. “So while he’s doing that,” she giggled, moving to grab her yfc yoga mat from the corner of their bedroom. “We’re going to do some yoga to get warmed up for a brief exercise a little later. But first, let me go change out of my pajamas cause this is a family show!” she joked showing her pajamas to the camera before pausing the recording. After changing into yoga pants and a loose comfy top, y/n resumed the video as she walked to the living room. “Alright, so let’s get going.” She began to narrate the process of setting up and starting her yoga. As y/n went through her yoga routine, she explained the poses and benefits of them for her fans. As she moved into her next pose, she noticed Freddy could be seen walking by behind her in the background. She concluded Freddy likely had no knowledge that he was in the shot as he stopped to smile at her, watching her silently for a moment. Y/n grinned and proudly continued to talk to the camera as Freddy resumed whatever he had been doing.

“Darling, you ready to eat?” Freddy called out as Y/n set her notebook down after having done some self care exploration/ personal growth work in it. She beamed excitedly as she stood up. She laughed at herself as she sprinted to grab her phone from its stand in order to keep the camera with her as she was to very eager to eat brunch with her husband.

As y/n made it to the table, Freddy pulled the chair out for her. Thanking him, she sat down beside him and kissed his cheek. He leaned over and reached around her as he moved to help prop the camera up.

“Wait, hold on,” y/n stopped Freddy. “They need to see the amazing meal you made,” she commented, momentarily taking her phone back. She turned her camera around as she showed the spread.

Freddy blushed proudly as he watched his happy wife. She was so precious.

When y/n was done showing off her husband’s cooking, she smiled at the camera, “okay!” She handed her phone back to Freddy and watched with appreciation at he set it up. However, when she checked to see what all was in the shot, she noticed Freddy wasn’t in it. She pouted lightly as she moved to adjust it. “You’re part of my routine, handsome,” she grinned, giggling as Freddy playfully retaliated to her flirting by attacking her sides with tickles before giving her a kiss.

After brunch, y/n stood up from the table, “I’m going to show them my morning workout. Wanna join, sweetheart?”

Freddy groaned dramatically but nodded his head in agreement. He pushed back from the table and began to gather the plates so he could wash them.

“Freddy,” y/n cooed. “I can get that, love” she argued, moving to stop his tidying up.

Freddy turned to look over his shoulder at y/n. “‘s alright, y/n/n,” he smiled. “Go on and get your camera and stuff set up in the gym, I’ll clean this up”.

Y/n tsked lovingly as she made her way over to Freddy. She hummed warmly and kissed his cheek as a thanks.

“Okay, so,” y/n explained after she finished stabilizing her phone in the gym. “Today is leg day,” she laughed as she began preparing each station. “I love leg day, but Freddy hates it.” Moving aside some random weights, she added, “I read somewhere that’s a common difference between men and women for some reason” with a shrug. “Truthfully, I didn’t remember it was leg day when I asked him to join, we’ll see if he’s still up for it,” she chuckled.

Freddy waltzed in with reusable water bottles for them both, a clueless smile on his lips. He winked as he made his way over to y/n. “All set up, darling?”

“Mmhm,” y/n hummed. “But, uh…” she trailed off. She pursed her lips as her husband stared back at her with his eyebrows raised in suspicion. She silently walked over to Freddy and batted her eyes at him.

“What did you do?” Freddy teasingly asked.

Y/n giggled innocently and shook her head, “nothing, but it’s leg day today”.

Freddy groans. “And cardio?”

Y/n softly nodded. “Are you still going to join me for both?” She pouted pleadingly.

Freddy smirked faintly at y/n’s overdramatic pout, looking away so as to not crack.

Y/n squinted in slight annoyance and gently turned Freddy’s head back towards her before she amplified her act.

A deep blush covered Freddy’s face as he nodded in acceptance.

“Yay! Thank you sunshine!” Y/n cheered as she kissed Freddy’s cheek. She then ran over to the treadmill. Unbeknownst to her, the camera picked up her husband grinning at her antics. “So we only have one the treadmill, so we’ll be alternating with each other,” she instructed, smiling over at her husband, “while I do an inclined sprint, Freddy will start with a circuit of mountain climbers, squatting burpees, and lunges”. “We’ll go for ten minutes then switch and repeat this cycle three times,” she explained.

As y/n and Freddy finished their last cycle of cardio, she sweetly dabbed Freddy’s sweaty forehead with a towel. “Alright honey, ready for some weighted, leg day exercises?” She inquired. When he begrudgingly agreed, she grinned and walked to her water bottle near her phone. “See, he loves me,” she said with a wink directed at the camera before smirking over at him.

Freddy chuckled as he made his way over.

“Boooo, you’re all sweaty,” y/n joked as Freddy gave her a brief hug.

“So are you, dear,” Freddy smiled, reaching up to fix some of y/n’s now-frizzy hair.

Y/n hummed quietly. She found herself leaning into Freddy’s hand for a moment as she caught her breath. “Don’t district me,” she gasped dramatically as she jokingly shook her head at him, stepping back.

“Are you sending this whole thing in?” Freddy questioned as he adjusted the metal bar so y/n could get up since she’d finished her reps.

Y/n shook her head as she took Freddy’s extended hand, letting him help her up. “No, I’m not going to make them watch us workout for an hour,” she giggled. “I’m gonna edit it first,” she informed him as she sat on the bench.

“Mmm, in that case,” Freddy murmured as he moved to pin y/n backwards against the bench.

“Freddy!” Y/n shrieked in surprise, as Freddy towered over her. Her eyes were wide as her laughter rang out around the room.

Freddy beamed and bent down to give his wife a sweet kiss. “That’s all I wanted,” he defended with an innocent expression. He stood up and helped y/n back up again.

“Mhmm,” y/n stated, side eyeing Freddy skeptically. “Behave yourself,” she teased with a light shove as she moved to grab weights for their next exercise.

“Alright, for a cool down we’re going to do some light stretching that’ll mostly focus on our legs to relax the muscles after weight training,” y/n told the camera.

“Ugh,” Freddy groaned. “Those are the worst,” he complained.

Y/n laughed. “You’re getting better!” She reassured, grinning when it caused Freddy to blush. “Now come on, you can do it.” She gave him an encouraging smile before moving to her yoga mat. “We’ll start with downward facing dog,” y/n instructed, getting into pose.

“My calves,” Freddy whined as he complied.

Y/n’s laughter made her posture shake a little. “Focus on your breathing, Freddy,” she advised, “each exhale, try to loosen those muscles”.

“Oh, this one’s not too bad,” Freddy observed as he sat in what y/n said was pigeon pose.

Y/n smiled over at her husband supportively. “See you’re doing it,” she commented sweetly.

Freddy nodded. “But I’m not doing that,” he stated dramatically as he watched y/n enhance her iteration of the pose by lifting her extended leg upward by pulling on her foot.

Y/n chuckled loudly. She glanced over at Freddy and took in the look of fearful disbelief he’d been making at her. She ended up laughing so hard she gracelessly dropped her foot back to the mat, “Freddy!”

“That wasn’t part of the instructions!” Freddy exclaimed defensively.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “You didn’t have to do that part.” “I just didn’t feel a stretch without it anymore”.

“Show off.”

“Hey!” Y/n scoffed as she leaned toward Freddy and gently pushed him over.

After some more stretching, the couple finally finished. “Alright, whew. We’re done!” Y/n said, dusting her hands off. “And that means, all that’s left in my morning routine is a shower to get cleaned up, so yeah! I hope you all had fun watching this!” She paused and looked over to Freddy who was curled up on the bench and shook her head teasingly. “Bye everyone!”

Once y/n had turned her phone’s camera off for the day, she slid the device into her yoga pants’ side pocket. “Honey?” She asked softly as she made her way overtoher husband. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and then you can relax on the couch some until you have to be on set, huh?” She offered, gently helping guide him off the gym bench with a loving smile.

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writingsfromhome · 7 months ago

Text

Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————————

I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it��s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles series #dos and donts #harry styles au #like I’m actually annoyed I had to split this up #because it’s supposed to get more interesting #ugh tumblr and its word limit…#musician!harry #well excited to finish the final part tho

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http-paprika · 1 year ago

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what's lost / simon "ghost" riley

part one zombie-apocalypse!au / pairing simon "ghost" riley x female reader / wc 1103 / warnings brief mentions of gore and violence, minor swearing, attempted suicide.

summery during the escort to edinburgh, things don't go as ghost had planned, causing him to lose y/n

note when i saw this is just an angst filled shitshow, i mean it. like, bawled my eyes out a bit, had to write this over multiple days i was struggling.

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The air in his lungs was bitter, stale. His body was a shell of what it was, skin turning purple and yellow like a large bruising sore. It had been too long since Ghost had cried, what felt like a lifetime ago as tears blurred his vision, jagged sobs escaping his throat.

Ghost’s breathing harbors, slowing as the infection pulsed through his veins. In his final few moments of sanity, he thought of Y/N who he’d forced to run when a horde had overcome them on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The sound of her voice, the feeling of her lips against his mask warmed his heart as Ghost brought the gun up against his head. His jaw was slacked, broken in the fight, blood drooling from his lips. The words spewed out his mouth, a muddled mess as he closed his eyes and gripped the metal harshly. “I– I’m sorry.”

The gun clattered to the ground, he should’ve done it, but her face burned too painfully in his to pull the trigger. All consuming him along with the infected venom that had transformed him.

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Y/N’s laugh was like a sweet song as they continued, through the wild brush of an overgrown wheat field. Ghost couldn’t even remember what he’d said to make her laugh, but a smile tugged at his lips to hear it.

“If the outbreak hadn’t happened, what did you plan on doing with your life?” She asked him, obvious to the lump that clogs his throat.

“Didn’t exactly plan for a future.” Ghost admitted, watching her stop and frown at his response. His feet slowed to a stop, and he turned to look at her. “I’m not exactly the type who plans to settle down, have kids, and retire—nothing for me outside of the military. The outbreak didn’t really change that. Probably spend the rest of my days being worked to death by them if I’m not bitten first.”

“Oh.” It sounded so painfully bleak for him to tell her the truth, but she’d asked, and Y/N had heard worse.

“Don’t break your heart over it. You’ve still got a promising life ahead of you.” He walks back over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Gotta make a cure, have your name known across what’s left of the UK, maybe the world.”

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Y/N can still hear her heart beating like a drum through her entire body as they check it, ensuring it’s clean from infection bites. Her cheeks were tight and dry, the crying had stopped when she’d reached the QZ, not out of relief or happiness, but because of a numb dread that’d washed over her. It had been two, maybe three hours since she’d left Ghost, the infection had either spread and he’d turned into a walking corpse. Or— Y/N shuddered, hating the ugly images that bubbled in her mind. Either result was a knife to the chest and tears threatened to spill over again.

It had been her fault that he’d been bitten, at least that’s what she’d convinced herself. Had she been more aware, more capable, Ghost wouldn’t have had to become a flesh barrier between Y/N and the undead. She’d scowled and cursed at him, anger turning into blinding grief when the realization hit, a blood indent in his wrist from teeth. He’d been served a fate worse than death saving her. And the guilt of it sliced like a knife through her heart.

Ghost should’ve been there, with her safely in the QZ. Kissing her and reminding her that they were safe, safer than they’d been since they’d left London over a month before. But she was there, a hollow shell all alone as they escorted her through the secured area to the lab that would become a prison for her.

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The song of crickets filled Ghost’’s ears as they settled for the night, making a small camp in the deep black of a forest. He sat so that Y/N’s head rested on his lap, his hand absent-mindedly running through her hair. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Almost wondering if she’d fallen asleep there, he looked down at her face and she quickly averted her gaze away from his. “Y/N? What’s wrong love?”

“What are you going to do when we get to Edinburgh?” She finally speaks, keeping her gaze focused on the small camping lantern they had, watching the few insects that flew to it, hoping for the warmer sun. “Or were you not planning on getting that far either?”

“Oh.” Ghost lets out a groan, running a hand over his face. So she was still thinking about their conversation from earlier, considering his words on a personal level, as if they’d been directed to her. He’d been backed into a wall with her question, the truth was pathetic and Ghost worried how she’d respond to it.

“So you didn’t think that far.” Y/N didn’t ask but stated firmly before sitting up and pushing away from Ghost. Taking her warmth away from him.

“Y/N, love–” He reached a hand out, placing it lightly on her arm and removing it after Ghost watched her flinch from his touch. “No, I didn’t think about what I’d do after. Was too focused on the mission of just getting you there safely. But I’ve thought about it, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay there for you.”

Whipping her head around, she stared at him surprised by his request, almost wondering if she’d heard him correctly. He was being vulnerable with her, it caused a lump to form in her throat.

“Stay… with me?”

“Yes.” Ghost nodded his head, taking her hand in his and bringing it close to his clothed mouth. “Please, Y/N? I’ll be your damn guard dog if that’s what it takes.” He finishes his plea, kissing the palm of her hand despite the fabric barrier between his lips and her skin. Stray tears in his eyes he blinked away, focusing on her, nothing else mattered but her.

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The afterlife was not what Ghost expected, his body and mind were infected, driving him with an everpresent thirst for flesh and blood. Like a street dog, wandering the expanse of Edinburgh fighting the wild hunger that’d taken over him and so many others. But there was a hollow feeling, some part of his past life still tethered to the shell of his body. Some haunting voice that still rang in his ears like a beautiful song that drew him away from corpses and rotting flesh. Someone whose side he should’ve never left.

tag-list @amazingori

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw22 #ghost mw2 #fanfic #y/n #call of duty zombies #zombie ghost #zombies!au #zombie apocalypse #so much angst

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copperbadge · 5 months ago

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Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Anon linked to a fundraiser for ridne, who needs to raise $2K for emergency dental treatment; ridne has EDS and needs crowns to protect brittle teeth. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

like-the-midnight-sun linked to a fundraiser for a close friend, Sydney, who is queer, trans, disabled, and currently homeless after leaving an abusive situation; they have a job but are living in their car and need help to keep Felix safe during the day while they're at work. They're raising funds to board Felix during the day so that they can keep their job and get back on their feet; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser by the Coalition for Responsible Home Education, a nonprofit supporting homeschooled children with a focus on laws protecting their rights, which is pulling together support for a young trans man who recently escaped a (very common) abusive home/homeschooling situation and needs resources to get a start in life. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

gwydion is raising funds to replace a broken fridge; they've solved a semi-recent plumbing issue but still need to replace the fridge and that's never cheap. You can give via paypal here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for a nephew, Martin, who is raising funds to get a service dog to help him as he lives with a disability; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

greaseonmymouth linked to small Scottish independent queer horror publisher Haunt Publishing, which is raising funds for a new frontlist title and to reprint two of their anthologies; the kickstarter has ebook, audio, and print options for rewards, including their entire backlist. This is the kind of indy publisher which launches careers in the UK publishing world, so helping them also helps queer authors. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

rilee16 is raising funds to get out of an abusive home situation, where their roommate has been harassing them and vandalizing their belongings. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita's partner recently lost their job due to a house fire that also destroyed the house; they're raising funds to keep food on the table for a family of nine, to try and get a supply of water to keep clean which is increasingly difficult during a drought, and for medications and bills until they can find new work; they also had an emergency this past weekend which ate into their funds. You can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

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whatitsdecending · 1 year ago

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Chokehold: Pt. IV

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Things have already become a little messy as you spend more time in the UK. Lies being made and overwhelming thoughts are occupying your mind, despite the need for that to not even exist.

A/N: I did not realize how quickly two weeks just flew by since I last updated… so here’s a longer part with some drama for all of you<3

Word Count: 6.3k

Content warning: instances of extreme anxiety and overthinking, distressing situations, sexual tendencies, harassment, violence

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“Hey pretty girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Hearing his voice on the other end nearly blindsided you. Although you were the one to initiate the call, him actually picking up is what had you nervous.

“Hey Noah.” You responded, running your hand under the water coming from the faucet to check the temperature. You heard the sound of him shuffling around, presumably in his bed due to what time it’d currently be in LA.

“Are you taking a bath right now?” He asked, you could hear the tone of his voice perk up. You roll your eyes, typical Noah. “What are you getting ready for?”

You sink into the warm water and sighed when it hit your sore cunt, knowing you’re going to be feeling all of that for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. “Nothing, I just needed to take a bath. So what’s up with the sudden urge to talk to me?” His chuckle echoed through your phone speakers and bounced around the bathroom walls, not even giving you a chance before you find yourself smiling at it.

“I miss you that’s why.” He eventually says. “How did that technology detox go? Feeling less whacked out on it?” You snorted as you remembered the excuse you told Noah yesterday after the plane landed, technology detox… how convincing.

“Yeah… feeling like I should read more now and empower my brain with that rather than a screen.” You cupped water in your hands and splashed it onto your shoulders, not wanting to fully sink into the tub because you know you’d never get out.

“Don’t you read enough already?” Noah’s serious tone wrapped around you like a glove. One of the many things that irked you a bit about him was how much he enjoyed poking fun at your hobby for reading. He’d never been the one to just sit down with one of the books you recommended and actually see why you liked it so much. “I think you need to get out of your apartment more. Maybe come spend some time out in LA with me?”

There it was.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He was so quick to say it too, he couldn’t at least ask how you’ve been first? You didn’t know how to respond and once again found yourself fumbling to put a sentence together. Your best choice would be to tell him the truth, every single piece of it too. But yet something nagged at you from the back of your mind, does he really deserve the truth?

“You’re a little late for that Noah.” You responded, taking the folded cloth on the edge of the tub and adding body wash to it and began to gently clean yourself.

“Of course I am, let me guess you’re away at your parents house?” Well, if you insist. The smile that tugged at your lips was devilish, knowing that this will become much easier without him having a clue.

“I am. I spent my technology detox catching up with them.” You hoped you were sounding convincing enough for Noah. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to him, so you grit your teeth as you await his response.

A chuckle from the line filled the silence. “That’s good to hear, Y/N. I know you were missing them. Chicago is still looking nice this time of year?”

You laughed at his attempts to make such casual conversation with you, any kind of conversing the two of you did ended with him fucking you senseless. “It’s nice, a little cold. It’s snowing here too.” You looked out the window that was tucked away a bit in the bathroom, giving some form of privacy despite the fact that Vessel had no neighbors. The snow had stopped falling sometime ago but the white dust that covered every piece of nature outside was relaxing to stare at, especially now that Noah had brought up being home.

Home. You mentally punched yourself in the gut over the fact that you just hopped on a plane to go all the way to London to stay with a man you’d only seen in person once, but constantly forgot to make trips back home to see your parents. You didn't even tell them you were coming here… That’s going to have to be another phone call you make today.

“I’m sure the snow is nice right now.” Noah snickered a little over the line until you heard another voice that sounded like Jolly calling for him. “Ahh duty calls, I must help Jolly move some shit around.”

“Tell him I said hi please!” You say enthusiastically.

“I will, but I better go before he comes in here and drags me out of my bed. Talk later?” The hope in his voice at the end is what made you want to sink into the water and never return.

“Of course Noah. Now go help Jolly out before he kills you.” You laughed a bit at the end as you could hear the door opening to Noah’s room, Jolly’s voice ringing out as he grew impatient. There was a little bit of a scuffle and some mumbled arguing then the call ended. You stared at your phone that rested on the ledge next to the tub now that it's gone silent, leaving the distant sounds of Vessel cooking in the kitchen to bring you back to reality.

You rested your head back against the tub and took a deep breath. For some reason you could not shake the anxiety that racked your body after the call with Noah, it came out of nowhere and made your chest feel tight. You took long and deep breaths, knowing this method usually helped when it came to your anxiety. But this time it made you feel worse.

The thoughts you tried to hold back hit you all at once. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you say yes? You have feelings for Vessel, but were they really enough for you to come all the way here? And if Noah had asked you before he did, would this be a completely different situation? Most certainly it’d be very different, but you didn’t even want to think about that.

You stared blankly at the water that has gone from warm to a cooler temperature and left your fingers pruned. Your foot moved through the water and you watched how swiftly it moved through the liquid, it was easy. If only your life could be like that, an ease to move through. But at this point it feels like you're moving through setting concrete.

And what if Vessel only wanted you here because he was bored and wanted something to do until he went back on tour? What if all those small things he did for you was just a facade? The second he leaves for tour is the second he stops caring about you, the second that all this gets thrown away and you’re left struggling once again to find the type of affection he gave you. He could so easily walk out of your life like so many have done before, what could possibly make him any different?

Hands gripped your arms tightly, pulling you out from the trance you’d put yourself in. Your eyes burned underneath the water when you opened them and your lungs screamed at you for air. Your body was pulled up from the position it had sunk into, allowing for you to take a deep breath and wipe the water from your eyes. Vessel was yelling but it sounded muffled to you, his eyes were wide with fear as you watched his mouth to try to figure out what he was saying.

“…Y/N please just focus on me.” You perked up once your ears had unclogged themselves and his voice was finally audible. “Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack.” His hand gripped tightly on your forearm, seemingly holding you up from slipping back under.

“What happened?” You asked. The confusion you felt from how you even ended up like that in the first place was all that came to mind as you tried piecing everything together.

Vessel sighed and pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know. I came up here to tell you dinner was ready, when you didn’t answer I got a bad feeling and walked in on you just under the water and not moving.” He sounded terrified and looked like it too, he had tears threatening to break from his eyes as he spoke. “Why? Why would you try to do this to yourself?”

“I-’’ You didn’t know how to answer that. “I didn't intend for that to happen.” The look on his face broke your heart. He looked like he was so afraid to lose you, and in that moment you hated yourself for all that had run through your mind just moments before. His eyes searched yours for more than what you were giving him, he eventually gave up and sighed, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead.

“We can talk about that whenever you're ready.” He says quietly, holding you as tightly as he could. “Let’s get you out before you start turning blue again.” He lightheartedly said, standing up with his hands still wrapped around your arms which brings you to stand with him. He guided you to step out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, taking the towel that was set aside for you and wrapping it around your body. He had you sit down on the toilet so he could towel dry your hair, his torso was pushed against your back as he carefully ran the towel through the strands.

“I can do this myself, Ves.” You say as he searched for a comb.

“You’re a delicacy at the moment. Anyways, I don’t mind it one bit.” He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for where you put your comb.

“Middle drawer on the left, it’s purple.” He happily pulled the drawer open and grabbed the comb, admiring the shade of purple that it was. He came back to you and gently ran it through your hair, being careful not to tug too hard when it came to any knots that formed. He focused until each strand was pristine and knot free, placing a kiss on the back of your head as a way to appreciate his work.

“What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” He asked as he went towards the bedroom.

“Oh Ves please, you do not need to do any more for me.” You stood to protest him, following him out of the bathroom and into the room. “I promise you I will not break in half if you don’t help me with everything. You’ve done a lot already.” Your hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. His eyes focused on your fingers that rested on his skin. He took a deep shaky breath, then stepped away from the drawers to let you find your pajamas.

You found your favorite t-shirt to sleep in; a very large gray shirt with a dinosaur couple on it sharing a spaghetti noodle like in Lady and The Tramp. You threw the towel that was wrapped around you onto the floor, pulling the shirt over your head and searching for a pair of boxers you loved to wear.

Picking up the towel to put it back to hang up in the bathroom, you could feel him watching your every movement. As you walked back into the room his eyes were stuck on you and not leaving anytime soon. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

“So what did you make for dinner?” You asked, ignoring the fact that he would not take his eyes off of you.

He stood up straight and cleared his throat, eyes finally moving elsewhere. “I made potato soup. I thought the weather today made it a perfect soup for dinner kind of day.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Little do you know… I love potato soup.” His eyes lit up so bright when you said that, almost like a kid who just walked into a candy store. “But will yours be as good as my mom’s?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Vessel motioned you to leave the room first, quickly following behind you. The aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make your stomach grumble loudly. Perhaps not eating all day wasn’t the smartest idea, but that just meant you could savor this dinner as much as you wanted to.

You stepped into the kitchen and let out a gasp at the sight in front of you; Vessel had gone out of his way to make the little table in the corner look like you were about to dine in a fancy restaurant. He covered the wooden table with a white cloth, pulled out some china that looked like it’d never been used before. There was a bottle of wine on the table waiting to be poured into the glasses nearby. You glanced down at what you were wearing and felt a tad embarrassed, maybe that’s why he wanted to choose your pajamas…

“You like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” you respond, walking to one of the chairs to take a seat. Before you could even reach for the back of it, Vessel had pulled it out for you and waited for you to sit before pushing it back to the table. “Did you really do all of this for me?”

He smiled as he walked away to grab the pot of soup. “Maybe.” He filled a bowl for you and then for himself, settling down across from you with an expectant expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I was waiting for you before I started, I never eat until whoever is in my company is ready to.” You say taking the spoon and picking up the thick liquid, taking a quick whiff of it before putting it in your mouth. His eyes were on you again as you let your tastebuds decide whether it was better than mom’s or not. “Hmm.”

Vessel raised a brow as you teased. “Did I beat your mum’s recipe or not?”

“Woah, slow down there pretty boy. Give me some time to decide.” You chuckled while taking another scoop of the soup to your mouth and tasting it again. It felt like you were a food critic and Vessel was the chef whose reputation depended on your word, you honestly found it adorable. “I’ll give it a 9.5/10.” His face lit up as he smiled wide, finally digging into the food himself.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate. The slight tension that was between the two of you after the bathtub incident had gone away, at least you felt like it wouldn’t exactly be the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. But, you remained silent anyways, not wanting the word bath to come out of his mouth.

—————————

Two days have passed since then, no word about it has been spoken between you guys. Vessel seemed to not want to start that conversation and just leave it to you to bring it up whenever you're ready, if you’d ever be ready.

You spent a lot of time cooped up in his house, sitting in silence with a book in hand and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. A refreshing feeling in your life compared to every other failed attempt at something you would even consider a “relationship”.

He’d cook for you and you’d watch, putting random songs on that made him laugh each time he’d turn around and notice you dancing around. You’d stand behind him and place your hands on his hips, moving them around to try and get him to dance along as he laughed even harder at your attempt.

That was one of the things you were really starting to like about him; his laugh. The way his nose scrunched up and how tight his eyes would close as he let out the most genuine, hearty laugh you’ve ever heard. The times where he’d just make absolutely no noise and stand there bent over with his hands on his knees after you did something stupid were your favorite.

It was something you knew you couldn’t deny for longer, how you felt for Vessel. It was becoming so obvious to yourself now and more than likely he picked up on it too, certainly he had feelings for you as well and he was not afraid to show you that he did. But there was that part of you that was slightly afraid to admit it and show him the same.

Your eyes flickered from the words on the pages in front of you when Vessel’s phone lit up on the table beside him, a sigh coming from him as it disrupted the focus he had on the book he read. You went back to yours, realizing that you’ve completely lost where you even remembered reading last.

You rested your head back against the couch and put the book in your lap, looking over at Vessel as he smirked at his phone while typing away. You watched curiously as he paused, seemingly waiting for a response, then quickly typing again. He glanced at you while you watched and a smile now sat on his face. “How do you feel about clubbing?”

You perked up in interest. “Did it a bit when I was younger, why?”

“Just got a text from III asking if we’d want to join him and the others at a club tonight.” He sat back on his side of the couch, mimicking how you were currently sitting. “He kinda wants to meet you. As does II and IV…”

“They know about me?” You ask in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Y/N. They’re my closest friends, of course they know about the beautiful American girl staying in my house.” He ended his sentence with a wink that made you blush.

“As long as I get to meet your friends and spend time with you, I think clubbing sounds like fun.” You smiled and then laughed as the thought hit you. “And maybe I’ll be able to get your ass to dance with me.”

“I’m always in the middle of making food when you try, would you rather I let it burn so I could dance with you?” Vessel is quick to sass you as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll call an Uber at 9, does that give you enough time to get ready?”

You glanced at your phone to check the time, it was only 7 o’clock. “That gives me plenty.” You hopped up from your spot on the couch, walking past Vessel and giving him a kiss on the cheek that flushed immediately after your touch.

As you headed back to the room to get ready, you couldn’t remember if you packed any clothes you’d consider clubbing attire. When you used to go all the time as a teen with all your friends, you’d pick the sluttiest thing in your closet, which would always help you get into the club despite the bouncer’s suspicion on your fake ID.

You rummaged through the closet, looking for your dresses you knew you’d packed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of giving up hope on your past self for packing everything, you go to the dresser drawer where you had put away the skirts you took with you.

The gasp that escaped you when you realized you had packed the one skirt you’d been dying to wear came into view; it was a black leather mini skirt that zipped up on the side. You threw it onto the bed as you ran back to the closet, searching for the perfect top to go with it. You settled for a black lace bodysuit that was long sleeved and decided putting on your platform calf boots would complete the outfit well.

You never got the chance to dress up and look nice anymore, so you decided it was best to go all out. Even if you were going to be in a dark club where the only people who would be able to see your makeup would have to be standing nose to nose with you. At least you knew Vessel might like it.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started your makeup, taking a little bit of time to try and make sure you didn’t fuck up the eyeliner and your eyebrows too much. It was refreshing getting ready like this and feeling like your younger self again. It didn’t take long for your makeup to come out the way you wanted it to, a good sign that tonight was going to be a great one.

Finding your phone, you check the time; 8:45, not bad for being rusty in your makeup abilities. You grabbed a small purse you like to use occasionally and put your wallet and phone inside.

“Ves?” You called out as you spritzed your perfume on.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed back from his room.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You left your room and entered his room, eyes growing wide once you saw what he was wearing; black skinny jeans paired with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, his black boots completing the attire. “Are we that emo or what?” Despite the chuckle that came from you, it was hard to take your eyes off of him and how fucking attractive he looked. He turned around and did a double take at you, his eyes wandering over every part of your outfit and face.

“Funny thing is, we’re all just going to be a group of emos.” He smirked as his eyes glanced at the amount of your thighs that were exposed by the skirt for the millionth time. “I’ll order an Uber now since I’m all good to go, and also let III know that we’re heading out.” Vessel stepped closer to you as he tapped away on his phone, after a minute he put it back in his pocket and noticed how close he’d accidentally got to you. His eyes lingered on yours again as he pushed your hair behind your ears, his fingers trailing along your jawline and lifting your chin a bit to examine your makeup. “You look good, really good.”

Your cheeks heated up as he kept his fingers on your chin, his thumb ran over your bottom lip with a little force. “Are you trying to smudge my lipstick?” You asked, lightly swatting his hand away.

A smirk curled at his lips. “I’m just testing it to see if it’ll stay after a makeout or two.” He grinned cheekily as you shoved at his chest making him stumble back a tad. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the notification coming from the Uber informing you that they had arrived.

You followed Vessel downstairs, letting him lead the way to the car waiting outside for the two of you. The Uber rolled down the window and double checked that she was picking up the right people, after Vessel confirmed it was right he opened the back door for you to get inside, letting you settle before shutting it behind you.

The Uber turned in her seat and looked at your outfit. “My dear you are beautiful, I love the top.” You smiled wide at her compliment and thanked her, returning the compliment on her brighter hair color.

Vessel joined you in the backseat and the driver pulled off, putting on some music for you to listen to. Vessel’s hand rested on your thigh as he stared out the window, you watched him as the passing lamp posts illuminated his face ever so often and he would tap his fingers along with the beat of the song playing on the radio. You placed your hand on top of his, pushing your fingers between his and encasing his hand with yours. The size difference was a little silly, especially since yours was on top, but it didn’t matter to you.

The drive took only thirty minutes from his house to the club that was in the middle of London. It was pretty packed already, a line was extended out the door as a bouncer slowly let people in.

“You can drop us off here,” Vessel says. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you honey!” You say as you got out of the car and waved to the sweet driver. Vessel’s hand rested on your hip as he guided you to the sidewalks, his eyes scanning around for the familiar sight of his friends. The brisk air hitting your bare thighs sent shivers up your spine as you found yourself trying to look for them too, but realizing you had no idea what they looked like.

You noticed the group of three guys standing together, one waving over at the two of you and the others in a conversation with one another. Vessel’s pace quickened a bit as you grew closer to the group, watching as the tallest of them was giving Vessel a thumbs up the entire time.

“Gentlemen.” Vessel says sarcastically, earning a glare from the one who stood more eye level with you. “This is Y/N.” He motioned to you. “Y/N, this is III, II and IV, my bandmates.” The tallest out of the four of them and the one giving Ves a thumbs up was III, a bright smile on his face as he reached to shake your hand. The shortest (and probably the one who looked the most innocent) was II, he took your hand in his and kissed it after saying a hello. IV is who you stood eye level with but only because of the shoes you were wearing. Instead of taking your hand in his, he opted for pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sorry.” He says as he felt you tense up a bit, not expecting a hug.

You just smiled and hugged him back. “That’s alright, hugs are never a bad thing.” IV pulled away with a grin on his face and turned his attention to your outfit, he gave you the “okay” symbol with his hand and a nod of approval.

“Let’s get inside as soon as possible before you freeze.” II pointed out the fact that you were shivering, leaving Vessel to swiftly put his jacket over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you to pull you into him. “I was waiting for you to do that for her.”

“Shut up.” Vessel said as he turned to the line. It had shortened quite a bit since you’d arrived, now only a couple of people stood waiting to be let in. Thank goodness because it was really cold out and you needed a drink.

Luckily the bouncer just glanced at all of your IDs and let you inside, he clearly had enough of dealing with people for the night and at this point did not care who he let in. III had taken over leading the group through the club as he had a clear path splayed out in front of him of where he wanted to go. He stopped at a larger booth towards the middle of the club that was pushed further away from where the dance floor was in comparison to some other booths. He flung himself in and sat in the middle, letting II and IV fill in next to him. Vessel motioned for you to sit and he followed, squishing you a bit against his shoulders and IV’s.

A waiter had come over and III was shouting an order for shots over the loud music, giving him a thumbs up as he walked away. You sat back and listened as the boys caught up with each other, constantly yelling back and forth with Vessel occasionally leaning against you in order to hear II a little better.

Once the first round of shots arrived, you had become part of the conversation as it moved onto concerts, a topic you were very familiar with. You all cheered each other with your shots, then threw it back into your mouth. The liquor burned at your esophagus as you did your best not to make any faces at it. After not drinking as much as you used to, you weren’t exactly that great at hiding the fact that you hated tequila.

“Are you not one that likes tequila?” III shouts to you.

“I’m not one to do tequila shots.” You laugh at yourself, the others join you. Vessel draped his arm over your shoulders, his fingers traced delicate patterns on the fabric of your body suit. His face was close to yours, as you felt his lips grazing against your cheek.

The boys cheered on the waiter as he brought two more rounds of shots for the table. Vessel laughed at them as they downed them with ease, you on the other hand watched in jealousy. You brought two shot glasses to sit in front of you, taking one in your hand and throwing it back. The burning wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it still made you make a face.

“You’re keeping them down at least, that’s a good sign.” II shouted from across the table. “Please do not throw up. I don't want to see that.”

You shook your head. “Oh I don’t throw up anymore. Too many years of partying has turned my stomach to steel when it comes to most alcohols.”

“Most.” IV teased. You gave him a good shove as you raised the next shot to your lips, this third one going down a lot easier. “See you just needed to warm up a bit, miss party girl.”

“That’s exactly right.” You said, leaning back to rest against Vessel’s chest. He held you close with one hand that pressed gently against your stomach, you both sat and listened to the conversation the others had. It was interesting to see how they interacted in a regular setting compared to on stage, their personalities were so different but yet at the same time, you could see their stage presences shine at some points.

The first notes of the song that you always had to dance to when you were in a club began to play: S&M by Rihanna. You were a basic woman, you hear Rihanna come on you have to dance along to it. You sat back up quickly, turning to push at Vessel to get him out the booth.

“Move I need to go dance.” You say, shoving him closer to the edge.

“You like this song?” He asks with a smug look on his face, leaving the booth and putting a hand out for you to take.

“I love it, actually.” You say as you stand up. “And you’re going to dance with me.” Your grip tightened on his hand and you pulled him to the dance floor, where many people crowded around and danced to the beat of the song. Pushing your way through a bit until you found a spot you liked, letting go of Vessel’s hand so you could move around. The alcohol in your system really had you feeling yourself and the confidence boost it had given you was like no other, allowing you to move your hips around like no one was watching.

Your eyes flickered up to meet with Vessel’s, noticing they were fixated on you as you danced around. You smirked as you took one step forward and pressed your body against his, taking his hands to rest on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to yours, your nose brushing against his.

In one sudden gesture, Vessel had flipped you around and pressed his chest into your back. His one hand now resting on your lower stomach, and the other? He couldn’t help but place it around your neck. Your eyes closed at the light pressure he was applying on it, a new found butterfly fluttering around in your stomach from the sensation.

The song ended and transitioned into another one that wasn’t as fun to dance to. You pulled Vessel off the floor and back to the booth, noticing another round of shots on the table. You laughed at how pleased III looked with himself and choice of liquor.

“Are you ever going to order an actual drink?” You shout at him, noticing that II and IV had separate drinks they were sipping at.

“No! Those aren’t as fun.” He protested.

You shook your head. “Well you have fun with that, I’m going to find the restroom.” They all waved you off, except for Vessel who landed a smack on your ass as you walked away.

The restrooms weren’t too hard to find as the bright neon sign practically blinded you no matter where you stood in the club. You only went in there to check on your makeup, specifically because of Vessel choking you a bit as you danced. Your eyes teared up some and you couldn’t help but wonder if it messed up your eyeliner at all. Standing at the mirrors you checked your eyes closely, noticing nothing smudged. Perfect. Your hair got a little messed up though, but nothing that didn’t add to the intensity of your look already.

Your ears were ringing from being around the loud music and your throat felt a little scratchy, probably from the amount of yelling you’ve been doing trying to have a conversation with the group. Perhaps a club wasn’t the best choice for your first time meeting Vessel’s band… oh well you were having a great time and couldn’t really care about the practicality of it all.

Once you were satisfied with yourself, you left the bathroom and returned to the loud club. Squeezing past multiple people making out along the back wall and eyeing the small group of people doing lines, you accidentally bumped into someone while you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You shout to the man, hoping you didn’t spill anything he was holding. He turned around and the expression on his face went from annoyed to elated.

“Is alrigh’ darlin’.” He slurred, patting your shoulder. You gave him a smile and went to head to the booth, when you realized he would not let you move from in front of him. “Where… do ya think you’re goin’? Come dance with me…” His hand gripped your shoulder tightly as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

“No, I’m not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You pry at his hand that was seemingly glued to you, his grip was that strong. “Man let go of me!” That only spurred him to drag your body to be pressed uncomfortably tight against him, the smell of alcohol poisoning your airways as he breathed heavily on you.

A loud smack and a sharp pain rang from your ass as his hand came down hard against it, giving it a painful squeeze afterwards. You were quick to react; shoving him away as hard as you could muster and then landing a hard blow on his face with your fist. The people around you gasped as he fell to the floor covering his nose that was bleeding profusely. Your arm raised again as you stepped over him, about to give him another for good measure, until a hand wrapped around your fist. You turn around and see that Vessel was standing behind you, his eyes burning into you.

“Good god woman.” II said as he stood by Vessel’s side, analyzing the damage you did.

III and IV came over and pulled us away. “Security is coming, we gotta bounce.” Vessel kept you close as you followed the others out the back door of the club and into the freezing night. You walked a few blocks until it was decided security wouldn’t go that far looking for you.

“What the hell happened?” Vessel was the first to speak, his voice remaining calm as he could tell you were shaken up.

“Um-” You begin, but cut yourself off as you hissed at the pain that started to radiate from your fist. “I was coming back from the restroom when I accidentally bumped into that guy. I said sorry and tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. He had such a tight grip on my shoulder and he wanted me to dance with him. He then held me super tight against his body and smacked my ass hard, I’m probably going to have a bruise.” You glanced at your hand that had a splatter of the man’s blood on it. “So I just punched him.”

Vessel held your hand gently as he examined it, careful to not press too hard against your bruising knuckles. “You okay?” He whispered.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay once I take some pain meds.” You shrug.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern and his eyes burrowed deep into yours. “I didn’t mean like that.” It clicked in your mind, he was asking about how you were mentally. You glanced at the others that stood around, clearly worried about you as well. All you could do was shrug in response, not exactly feeling like breaking down crying in the middle of a London alley right now.

Vessel nodded and glanced at the boys over his shoulder, giving some sort of unspoken message to them. “Let’s get you back home then, yeah?”

You smiled at him. “That would be wonderful.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #sleep token #vessel

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laiqualaurelote · 3 months ago

Note

💭 👻 for the fic ask game because I’m curious 🤣

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

gig officially gigged contains a whole And Then They Were Roommates/There Was Only One Bed AU that I just...never got into, but it is a whole thing when Charles moves into Miss Knight's attic with Edwin. There is only one bed. It is a UK queen, which claims to be a "small double" but really is for 1.5 humans. Charles, who hates being a burden, insists on sleeping on the floor, except most of the floor is taken up by Edwin's ridiculously giant baroque instruments. Edwin is having a daily escalating physical crisis re: the bedsharing, but he knows that if Charles feels even the slightest bit guilty about this he will go home, so Edwin manfully pretends none of this is an issue, gets very little sleep, and pours all his angst into writing Stairway To Hell. It is no wonder that by the night of their fateful gig at Catabasis, they are both secretly and utterly deranged about the whole situation.

Miss Knight disapproves of Charles at first, but he carries all her groceries and also cleans the gutters for her. She ends up equally as, if not more, fond of him as she is of Edwin, not that she would let either of them know.

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

you don't have to be crazy to work here (but it helps), The Magnus Archives newsroom AU. I'm sorry we'll never find out why Martin is looking for human teeth in the trash.

thank you for the asks from this ask game!

#procrasktination #dead boy detectives #the magnus archives

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nesaluvstherecoms · 9 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

MSpOT11 (Pronounced: M spot eleven) (Marine Special Operations Team 11) - Previous unit name. Colonel L/N’s Special Operations unit, composing of 10 main highly trained operators and 4 additional spots for other operators who were replaced regularly depending on the mission. These four spots were reserved for allies, mission-specific specialists, and operators assigned by higher up commanding officers. All operators were often divided into two sub teams of 7, where the commanding officer (Y/N) would choose which one to lead depending on the task.

ALPHA - Recom unit name, given officially by General Frances Ardmore. Regarded as the RDA’s muscle alongside Colonel Quaritch’s Deja Blu unit, ALPHA is Major General L/N’s special forces team. Since the very top of command remain only the Generals, ALPHA takes orders from them only, and are to assist them in any circumstances. The unit composes of the Recombinants of the 10 main operators, along with the Recombinant of F/N L/N who has the authority of commanding officer.

This data sheet displays detailed information about the operators before Project Phoenix was launched. However, in some sentences the Recoms are also mentioned.

Commanding Officer: Colonel (As a Recom: Major General) F/N L/N

Operators:

1. Captain John Keller (Callsign: Phantom)

2. Master Sergeant Oscar Bailey (Callsign: Coma)

3. First Sergeant Scott McCaskill (Callsign: Pyro)

4. Second Lieutenant Riley Jones (Callsign: Phoenix)

5. First Lieutenant Fernando Álvarez (Callsign: Alpino)

6. Sergeant Major Diego Silva (Callsign: Fuego)

7. Sergeant Major Maria Herrera (Callsign: El caos)

8. Master Gunnery Sergeant Henry Davis (Callsign: Ranger)

9. Gunnery Sergeant Khalida Fadel (Callsign: Liberty)

10. Artillery Officer Stefan Kessler (Callsign: Berlin)

1. John Keller

Mental age: 38 years

Nationality: British

Place of birth: UK

Rank: Captain

Callsign: Phantom (Has a talent for moving silently and versatilely, materializing anywhere in the front line during combat like he just came out of thin air, like a phantom.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Hostage rescue

- Kill - capture missions

- Sniper techniques

- Close quarter combat

- Counterterrorism

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Versatile in multiple environments

- Expert in interrogation techniques

- Seek-and-strike expert

- Shock-trooper

- Long-range reconnaissance operator

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The “dad” of the group.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Pushes the unit to stay clean of alcohol and smoking because it’s bad for their health and then after everyone has fallen asleep pours himself a cold glass of whiskey and lights a cigar. (He thinks no one knows but everyone knows. Whenever this is brought up within the squadron, Riley says: “Let the old man dream.”.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The first person he met in the unit was Oscar Bailey. Oscar was 23 years old then and was making a name for himself as one of the most talented young operators, rising in career. They met in a track-and-kill mission when Oscar and his teammates got ambushed by a terrorist group and John with his unit came to the rescue. Since then John feels a fatherly love towards Oscar and has been watching over him ever since.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You can hear him clearing his throat and sinuses in the bathroom sink with the volume of a thousand mountain banshees in the early hours of the morning after he has just woken up. (Yes, he bolts the whole house awake, and their PTSD doesn’t make it better. Oscar has gotten more used to it than the rest but the first time it happened the whole squadron rushed to the bathroom armed to their teeth, thinking that someone stabbed him in the throat and he was choking on his own blood. What they found was a sleepy but startled John, standing in front of the bathroom sink with his thick ass black socks, and his pajama pants holding onto the curve of his half exposed ass for dear life, looking back at them with wide eyes and fists balled up ready to throw punches. Not a fun morning. Later at the breakfast table he cracked a “Who pissed in the cereal?” joke to lift up the mood. No one laughed.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Doesn’t give a fuck who is in front of him. If someone is being disrespectful or purely showing ignorance, he doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind and put them in their place, even if they are higher in rank than him and hold more authority. (He used to get in trouble because of this before he met Y/N, but now she covers his back.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Snores. Loudly. And when he’s tired; very, very loudly. (Y/N personally made sure that the rooms in their dorm were soundproofed. Her reasoning was “to give all of us privacy” but everyone knew it was because of John’s 60 decibel, chainsaw sounding snore (and some others who also snore obnoxiously loudly, ahem… Fernando). The whole unit prays that they do not get sent on missions where they have to spend the night in a foreign base, sleeping in the same room. When he’s on open air missions, he doesn’t sleep, afraid that he’ll be loud and lead the enemy to them. Once, he spent six days without sleep because of this and started to hallucinate, until Y/N intervened and forced him to go back to base.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's been shot, captured, blown up, locked up, tortured, and left for dead, multiple times.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is a HK433.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He taught Oscar how to fish, and they go fishing together if the weather is good and they have the day off.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Workaholic. Puts his job before anyone and anything.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He used to have severe insomnia, but slowly got better until it was gone. Before his insomnia he didn’t use to snore.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s constantly feeling nauseous and sometimes dizzy but no one can figure out why, not even the medics.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ For some reason his feet are always cold and he tends to wear thick socks when he’s at home.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Always reads for a little bit before going to sleep, and he has reading glasses too.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s a well known name among the military world.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ An excellent and harsh trainer. Often times, units and new talented recruits are put under his supervision and guidance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He nearly has an aneurysm every time he hears Americans say “soccer” when referring to football. (When this happens he gives them the biggest side eye. This happens a lot with Henry, the only American in the unit.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once, Oscar referred to him as “grandpa” and he was genuinely hurt.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Oscar convinced him once to go to a concert and they left 20 minutes in, because the man has PTSD and you can guess yourself what the flashing lights, screams and loud sounds of the CO2 jets were doing to him.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Women hit on him a lot and he doesn’t understand why. He also politely declines each time because he is a loner. (When this was brought up one day and he said he doesn’t get why, Maria and Scott turned to him with the biggest shit eating grins on their faces and started to explain it to him with the sentence: “Because you’re daddy material.” Y/N had never seen the fearsome Captain John Keller widen his eyes so much before, not even in the middle of battle.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His voice is naturally deep (not entirely considering the cigars but I digress) and it gets even deeper in the morning. This happens with the other male operators too but everyone teases John when it happens to him because he’s the eldest in the unit and they love teasing him. (Y/N always jokes that he sounds like he’s narrating a “Ford” commercial in the morning.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is one of the few people that General Ardmore genuinely trusts.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Always praises the team and tells them that they did good even if the mission failed. He does this because he doesn’t know when he might lose them. Throughout his career he has lost a considerable number of people dear to him and he regrets the last words he has said to some of them, without knowing that the next time he’d see them they’d be laying dead. John now tries to show his team how much he appreciates them as often as he can.

2. Oscar Bailey

Mental age: 26 years

Nationality: British

Place of birth: UK

Rank: Master Sergeant

Callsign: Coma (Has a tendency for shooting enemies in the stomach before bashing the butt of his weapon into their skulls, either killing or sending them into a coma.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Target elimination

- Covert surveillance

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- High tolerance and tactical awareness

- Demolitions

- VIP protection

- Counterterrorism

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Oscar was the only one in his class to pass the RTI (Resistance To Interrogation) testing, and pass selection with the highest possible scores on all courses, at 20 years old.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has spent most of his career hunting terrorists.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has been routinely subjected to physically and mentally harsh scenarios.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The first person he met in the unit was John Keller.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Loves spicy food and any type of tea.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He firstly joined the British Army and then got transferred to the U.S. Marine Corps where he met John and the rest of the unit.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Before he enlisted for the British Army, he used to frequently go to concerts and music festivals.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once during a mission, he got heavily injured, resulting in a concussion, a broken collarbone, a broken femur and multiple stab wounds. The person who carried him all the way to safety was John, while yelling at him to stay conscious. It took Oscar some time to recover. He had to undergo some surgeries and have a metal rod and plate placed on his femur. During the weeks he was in bed rest, the unit would take turns visiting him so he wouldn’t be alone. (During one group visitation, Fernando made a joke and started laughing, and forgetting that Oscar was still injured, before the unit could reach out and stop him, slapped Oscar’s thigh with his damn gorilla strength. Let’s just say the medics forbid anyone from visiting Oscar for a few days….)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once fell out of a speeding JLTV while trying to shoot an enemy vehicle mid-confrontation. It’s a miracle that he dropped flat in time and did not get run over by the other vehicles behind the JLTV but rather let them drive over him before rolling off the track and running to a safe zone.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He sucks at fishing. The only reason he goes to fish in the first place is because it makes John happy.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He secretly judges every decision that the people in command make, but unlike John and Riley, he doesn’t voice it out. He only tells John what he’s thinking once they’re alone together.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The only reason why he doesn’t complain about John and Fernando’s snoring is because he falls asleep with his earphones in, even though Y/N advises the squadron to keep their doors and ears open at night for cautious reasons.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Sometimes when he’s very tired he will snore softly.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is a SIG MCX.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He lowkey believes that Riley secretly likes cuddles. He doesn’t know why. That’s just the vibe he gets from him.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Whenever someone takes a picture, he looks like he doesn’t want to be there.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is insanely good at carjacking. (The first time he did this in a mission, the whole team stared, not having expected it, while John was standing a few feet away, smiling proudly.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Out of all the operators in the unit, he is the one who is the most careful in missions. While the others sometimes act out of instinct, Oscar has the ability to control even his instincts almost entirely. This has led to him saving his fellow troopers individually or in groups, multiple times during altercations.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He tried weed once and hated it. Now he huffs in annoyance every time he smells it one someone.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has crashed a helicopter before. Why was he flying a helicopter in the first place, when he’s not a pilot? Interesting question. (They were in a rush to get away from an ambush and he thought he could pull it off. The most careful operator of the unit, ladies and gentlemen.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He loves diavola pizza to a concerning level.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When the unit was first assembled, Fernando asked him if he speaks Spanish and he said he didn’t. Fernando grinned and told him that he’d teach him all the curse words. He did in fact do that. So now Oscar walks around with a Spanish curse words vocabulary that could send a Drill Sergeant into a coma.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He once saw Henry make tea with “Lipton” teabags and forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. I’m not even exaggerating, he genuinely stopped breathing, and stared at Henry in horror. (A few moments later he taught him how to make loose leaf tea. When he told John and Riley about it later they also stared in horror. Everyone in that dorm was banned from using teabags ever again.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a scar on his left eyebrow. When he was born, the doctor who performed a c-section on his mother accidentally cut the corner of his left eyebrow and he has had that scar ever since. (He does not have this scar as a Recom.)

3. Scott McCaskill

Mental age: 29 years

Nationality: Scottish

Place of birth: Scotland

Rank: First Sergeant

Callsign: Pyro (During his early years as a trainee, he once accidentally triggered a few flares while getting his demolitions equipment ready and set fire to a MTVR.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Sniper techniques

- Demolitions expert

- Exceptional proficiency

- Remarkable speed and accuracy in room clearance and urban warfare

- Specialized in covert reconnaissance

- Counterterrorism operator

- Hostage rescue

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Scott set the record for youngest trainee passing selection and RTI testing with the highest possible marks on all phases of the course, at the age of 22. This record was then later on broken by Oscar Bailey.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The first person he met in the unit was Riley Jones. For his first mission he joined Riley’s team in securing a building that inhabited WMDs. During the mission, the unit was ambushed and Scott would have lost his life in bomb droppings from enemy aircrafts, if it wasn’t for Riley pulling him to safety. Since then, they have remained close friends.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He used to be a smoker, before he met John Keller who slapped the cigarette out of his mouth as Scott went for a handshake the first time they met. (Riley secretly grinned like a Cheshire cat.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Drinks coffee with strictly two teaspoons of sugar. Anything over or lower than that amount and he will not drink it.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Chatty…. Very chatty…. (Riley tends to zone him out anytime he talks.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Secretly frowns at how John smokes at night and mutters “hypocrite’ bastard” in his Scottish accent, under his breath.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he sleeps, he rolls himself into the covers like a cocoon.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once, after him, Fernando, Maria, Henry and Stefan returned from a mission, they found Riley sleeping on the living room floor. Scott got a not so brilliant idea and somehow convinced the others to join (it wasn’t hard, all four of them are as idiotic as he is, except maybe Stefan). The five of them turned off the lights and formed a circle around Riley. They started spinning while holding hands and chanting satanic verses. (Riley woke up and started swinging at everyone. Y/N had never seen five grown adults run so fast for their lives while their comrade chased them around the dorm with a combat knife.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His alarm sound is the Scottish national anthem. (Don’t ask.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He spends his off-duty days chilling in the living room, watching sports and drinking cold beer.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once went fishing with John and Oscar but did not have the patience to wait for the fish to catch the bait so he fell asleep while still holding the fishing rod.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He enjoys wearing war paint on his face during missions.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once got drunk out of his fucking mind, went to the rail of the living room balcony, before lowering his pants and boxers. He held his cock between the metal bars of the rail and started pissing with concernedly high pressure while screaming “SCOTLAND FOREVAAAAAAAA” while holding a fist up in the air. (Luckily their balcony faced the forest and no one got contaminated in the process. He also got two weeks of cleaning duty for that, and no one allowed him to drink that much alcohol ever again.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is an AR-57.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He gives the biggest side eyes to John and Riley when they question their authority figures, even if he agrees with them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ One time he walked in on Y/N changing and didn’t say anything but wiggled his eyebrows seductively. (Y/N put him in a headlock and didn’t let him go until he started begging.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Constantly uses Scottish slang (Riley sighs each time he does this before asking him to “Speak English, you arsehole.”)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Masks his emotions with humor, but Riley can always tell what he’s truly feeling.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Gives the biggest bear hugs.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Every time Riley, John or Oscar do something remotely British he rolls his eyes and huffs out a “Fuckin’ brits.”

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He doesn’t have tattoos but he has been thinking of getting some of Riley’s drawings tattooed on him for some time.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has a habit of patting people firmly on their chest or on their shoulders as a greeting. (First time he did this Riley found it extremely annoying. But now it’s comforting to him.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he was a kid he was very close to his older sister. They did everything together, and were each other’s best friend. They grew apart after he joined the military and now he sees her and his mother only once a year.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He absolutely loves making Molotov cocktails and smoke bombs.

4. Riley Jones

Mental age: 32 years

Nationality: British

Place of birth: UK

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Callsign: Phoenix (He survived a helicopter crash where all of the people in that helicopter with him died instantly, including the pilot. When rescue forces rushed to the scene, they saw him rising among the flames and wreckage, like a Phoenix rising out of ashes after death.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Sniper techniques

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Sabotage

- Infiltrations

- Master in clandestine tradecraft

- Ambush execution

- High Intelligence

- Torture Expertise

- Master Combatant

- Knife Mastery

- Counterterrorism

- Extremely high pain tolerance

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has spent most of his career executing covert assignments in classified locations.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His most frequent injury have been stab wounds.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Extremely organized. Has an agenda which he plans and follows strictly. This includes timetables, meetings, medical check ups, cleaning schedules etc.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His arms are covered in tattoos.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His favorite type of alcohol is bourbon.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He drinks a specific tea blend that is flavored with bee balm oil.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Before the crash, his callsign used to be Rico because he’s always armed to the teeth.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Sarcasm king.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Just like John, he doesn’t hesitate to point out flaws in orders or missions given by higher ups. The people in authority often get annoyed at this because they see it as him complaining about everything, but to Y/N this is extremely valuable as he provides the other perspective and helps her eliminate loopholes.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a little sketchbook that he keeps with him at all times, where he doodles or draws concepts for new tattoos he wants to get.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has a resting bitch face.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Loves to scare the living shit out of new recruits.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a feared reputation among the military world because of his brutal executions and high kill count.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He really likes knives and has a large collection of them. He’s always fidgeting with a combat knife and you’ll always find one on his person. (Yes, he keeps one under his pillow.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Even though he zones out when Scott gets too chatty, it gives him comfort when listening to his voice.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He did not believe that Y/N would be a good commanding officer for their squadron when she was assigned as such. It didn’t matter if she had grown up in a military facility or if she was a so-called prodigy, she was too young and did not have a lot of experience. The fact that she had been ranked Colonel at such a young age was, in his opinion, a huge mistake that would cost them. He also expected her to argue his opinion every step of the way just like the rest of the authority figures did. He was however proven wrong when they came out victorious in some of the most harsh and difficult missions they had ever been in, missions which she led by also listening to his insights. Riley eventually gave her his respect.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He knows that he comes across as threatening and that boosts his ego.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He used to be a Christian since he was a child but after serving for some time and seeing the horrors he has seen, he lost faith in God.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Rolls his eyes at people so much that John once joked that his eyes would get stuck like that one day.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Actively calls John “old man”.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He was the first to witness drunk Scott pissing from the balcony while screaming “SCOTLAND FOREVAAAAAAAA”, and that was the first and last time that Riley Jones malfunctioned.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He really enjoys cooking and often listens to corny music while doing so. (Scott never fails to poke fun at him for this.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is an ArmaLite AR-18.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s very cold and sometimes rude to people he doesn’t know personally.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He tends to be competitive.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Since the crash, he has had some levels of anxiety whenever he has to board a helicopter. (Of course he doesn’t show it.)

5. Fernando Álvarez

Mental age: 37 years

Nationality: Mexican

Place of birth: Mexico

Rank: First Lieutenant

Callsign: Alpino (From Spanish; Alpine. The environment he thrives in are mountainous terrains. Enemies stand no chance against him in such environments.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Counterterrorism

- Stealth expertise

- Sniper techniques

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Target elimination

- Master combatant

- Sabotage

- Clandestine tradecraft

- Ambush execution

- Infiltrations

- Specializes in reconnaissance by fire

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he was a kid, his dream was to be in the army and would often skip school to watch the soldiers of his hometown do their daily drills.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a very loud voice and almost always soldiers jump startled when he starts yelling at them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He grew up with Diego and they have been best friends since childhood.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Diego would often scold him for skipping school.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Later on, after they both had enlisted for the military, they met Maria.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His weapon of choice is a SIG MPX but his favorite weapon is his CheyTac Intervention which he calls “mami”.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Fernando and Maria have a “that annoying sibling” relationship.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Once said: “It’s not gay if it’s the homies.”

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Snores obnoxiously loud, to the point that people dread having to sleep next to him. The worst part is that his snore adds on top of John’s during the night and sometimes they leave their doors open, making it sound like someone has switched on two MS 881 Petrol Chainsaws all night.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He once got shot in his right asscheek. Luckily, it wasn’t a deep injury and it didn’t reach anything that shouldn’t be reached. (He quite literally ran around the battlefield with a bullet up his ass.) (He couldn’t sit on the toilet for three weeks.) (He cursed “puta madre” out loud approximately 400 times while trying to sit during his entire time of recovery.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has an insane amount of tolerance for spicy food. Has eaten Carolina Reaper peppers before and looked like he was eating candy. (He suffered on the toilet a few days later.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Very good cook. But ironically enough, he’s too lazy to cook.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Constantly goes to Maria’s room for the sole reason of making eye contact with her and staring her down judgmentally for 45 seconds, and then leaving the door to her room open, because he knows that it annoys her carnally.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Uh… very hairy. But he shaves regularly and keeps it neatly trimmed. Once tried waxing but the hair was so strong that the waxing tissue stuck to it. (On the bright side, as a Recom he has no body hair.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He once unintentionally decked a stripper square in the face because she tried to choke him unexpectedly while straddling his lap, thinking that he’d get turned on, but he got startled, causing his reflexes to kick in. (She got knocked out, suffered a broken nose, a fractured maxilla and nasal bone, and a few of her front teeth got knocked out. It took her months to recover fully. She sued him but he won the case, and out of spite sued her back for emotional distress. Ironically enough, he won the case and she had to pay him a mighty sum of money.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He really cares about Diego. He’s always watching over him even when he’s unaware of it. To Fernando, Diego is his brother and he will protect him with his life if he has to.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s especially deadly in mountainous terrains.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s insanely good at what he does, to the point that even John Keller had his jaw drop the first time he saw him in action. He knows the battlefield like the back of his hand and he’s extremely lethal in action.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He had an eyebrow piercing on his right eyebrow throughout high school, but had to take it out when he joined the military and it closed entirely. (His mom grounded him for three months when he got it.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he turned fourteen years old, he spent three months building a training field on his uncle’s farm. It was a piece of his land that wasn’t nutritious enough to grow produce or good grass for herds, so he let Fernando do whatever he wanted with it. With help from Diego, a few other friends and friendly neighbors, Fernando ended up building multiple tiny buildings to resemble houses, spread junkyard cars, old shipping containers and stacks of sacks filled with gravel, all over the place to practice open-air gunfight, and even made multiple dummies for target practice. He used that training field 24/7 religiously for four years until time came when he and Diego signed up for the military.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He loved Diego’s grandmother dearly and he would often go to spend afternoons at their house. At one point, she and Diego cleared out the old storage room in her house and let him have it. Fernando was deeply touched by this, and he did not take it for granted at all. He cherished that tiny room deeply and his mother even joked that it had become his favorite bedroom. (His mother always shared her cooking with Diego and his grandmother to show her gratitude for them making her son happy, and would pack some carefully in Fernando’s backpack before he would go over to their house.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ During his rookie years he would get into a lot of fights with other recruits for Diego’s sake, and he’d always win. He almost got kicked out of the military because at one point he beat up a dude so badly that his face looked like it had been shoved inside a meat grinder.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He likes going to watch rodeos, and always invites Diego to come with him.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He makes the most delicious Enchiladas.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has a bullish devotion to Y/N and his fellow troopers. He’s always looking out for his squadron.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He can be very overprotective and possessive over the people he cares about.

6. Diego Silva

Mental age: 37 years

Nationality: Mexican

Place of birth: Mexico

Rank: Sergeant Major

Callsign: Fuego (From Spanish; Fire. He almost lost his life during a mission where C4 explosives were placed in the enemy-filled building he was clearing. He realized this moments before the explosives were about to go off. He decided to sacrifice himself for the mission and doused as much of the building as he could with gasoline so he could take out every enemy with him. When the explosives went off, not only did the building start to crumble but what was left caught entirely on fire. John was about to pronounce him KIA but then Diego was pulled out of the fire and rubble by Fernando who had rushed to the scene the second he heard that something had gone wrong.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Counterterrorism

- Stealth expertise

- Sniper techniques

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Target elimination

- Master combatant

- Ambush execution

- Infiltrations

- Covert surveillance

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is very friendly. Almost everyone eases up to him quickly. (Even Riley.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He would always scold Fernando for skipping school to watch soldiers train.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His parents were drug dealers and traffickers, and were never home.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he was young, he had a very close bond with his grandmother, who raised him. He would always spend his afternoons after school cooking and helping her around the house. After dinner, they would sit together by the fireplace and she’d tell him stories while teaching him how to knit and do embroidery. When she passed away, Diego took it very harshly and it took him years to recover. He still misses her dearly every single day, and keeps a small handkerchief that she embroidered with his initials, on him at all times.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a very strong brotherly bond with Fernando, and would sacrifice his own life for him if he had to.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The girls of his hometown all had a crush on him because he was soft, caring, kind and overall just a great guy. Often times friends of his grandmother’s would try to convince her to set him up for marriage with their daughters or nieces but she’d always politely decline. She’d tell him everyday that he had to let his own heart choose the person he wanted to be with.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Diego never wanted to join the military but he did so for Fernando’s sake.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is a SIG MCX.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Unlike Fernando, he has an easygoing friendship with Maria.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He, Riley and Henry do most of the cooking in the house.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a talent for zoning out Fernando’s snore.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he and Fernando first started as recruits, others would often pick on him because he was the least aggressive out of all of them. They tried breaking him because he was the only one who didn’t want to be there, and if you know you know that that’s no mentality to have in the military. Key word there: tried. Fernando beat them all up so bad that some of them dropped out and were never seen on the training ground again.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He doesn’t drink or smoke, and never has. He believes that those are poison to one’s body.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When Fernando was building his training field, he was the one who made the target practice dummies using his sewing skills.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His favorite dishes to cook are soups and stews. He also really enjoys baking.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He was always on top of his class since elementary. Even in military training, he always had the highest scores in written tests.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Do not be fooled by his friendly personality and soft looking features. Despite the fact that he does not really like his job and that compared to the others he seems somewhat non-threatening, Diego Silva has the rank of Sergeant Major for a reason. His skills, knowledge and specializations are right behind Riley’s and he places second along with Fernando on experience.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He uses handguns more than the rest of the unit.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s an excellent driver. Whether that be during a chase, a getaway, an open gunfire fight on the road, or just a plain simple change of location, Diego will always be behind the steering wheel. (Fun fact; Diego has never gotten a speeding ticket. Even with the corrupt police force in his hometown, he never got stopped.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he and Fernando visit their hometown, grandmas will still try to set him up with their nieces. (They gather around him like a flock of those seagulls in “Finding Nemo”. One time he even lost Fernando in the herd of abuelas, and found him half an hour later, sitting near their hometown’s small church while shoving pistachio ice cream in his mouth with a tiny plastic spoon.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He and Fernando have a secret hang-out place in an abandoned school in the forest near their hometown. It has been their secret place since they were five year old niños and before they signed up for the military they would always go there to watch the sunset or just to talk and quiet their minds. Whenever one couldn’t find the other, they always knew where to look. They still visit that place when they get the chance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Whenever he is faced with something that is troubling him, he looks up to the sky and asks his grandmother for guidance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ In the same chain where his Dog Tag is, he keeps a locket that has two pictures that are especially precious to him because they capture two of his core memories. The right one is a picture of his grandmother smiling at the camera while knitting in her rocking chair. She had saved up a lot of money to buy him that camera as a present for his birthday and Diego cried that day, because it had been a very expensive camera, especially for an old lady living on her pension. Her picture was the first one he ever took with it. The other picture in the left side of the locket is a picture of him and Fernando together, laughing as Fernando drapes an arm over his shoulders and hugs him close. That day, the both of them had volunteered in the soup kitchen of their hometown, and at the end of the day, the staff had thanked them and the rest of the few volunteers by offering them a meal. Before sitting at the dining table, Fernando pulled him aside. He told him his plans to sign up for the military in a month, the day of his birthday. Diego listened carefully as Fernando told him the plans he had made for his life and that the decision was final. Even though it did not come as a surprise to him, Diego still had felt a pang of dread in his heart. That moment he decided that he would never separate lives from Fernando, and told him he would sign up with him too. Fernando was caught back and asked him to reconsider but Diego’s mind was made up. The words he then said will forever be in Fernando’s heart, for he told him: “Aquí no hay nada para mí sin ti, hermano mío. Nunca me perdonaré si dejo que nuestras vidas se separen. Te seguiré hasta la tumba, Fernando Álvarez.” (There is nothing for me here without you, my brother. I will never forgive myself if I let our lives separate. I will follow you to the grave, Fernando Álvarez.). They later went to the dining table with tears in their eyes and sat down. The rest raised a toast while laughing happily and Fernando wrapped his arm around Diego’s shoulder before hugging him close. That’s the moment a friend of theirs pulled out his camera and snapped the picture.

7. Maria Herrera

Mental age: 37 years

Nationality: Mexican

Place of birth: Mexico

Rank: Sergeant Major

Callsign: El caos (From Spanish; Chaos. Has the ability to cause havoc everywhere she goes, if she wants to. Moreover, has often unpredictable and erratic behavior when she’s irritated.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Counterterrorism

- Stealth expertise

- Sniper techniques

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Target elimination

- Ambush execution

- Infiltrations

- Covert surveillance

- Track-and-kill missions

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Most of her career has been spent hunting down cartel leaders and narcos.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She prefers being the undercover operator during missions because she gets to display how good she is at having a poker face. (Plus she loves the thrill.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Flirts with Y/N more than she should.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She once got kidnapped by the enemy and they gave her back after 14 hours of captivity because she had objectified the men so much that they felt violated. When Oscar, Diego and a small team of operators arrived at the warehouse she was being held in, they found her in the middle of the building, tied to a chair with a note stapled to the front of her shirt that wrote: “In my 15 years of crime, I have never had a hostage make my guys so uncomfortable. They’re not objects.”. (Maria still keeps that note as a souvenir.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Most of her time in the gym is spent on working on her arms and thighs, providing her with a nice set of firm thighs and muscled biceps that she loves flexing. (She was devastated to see that her recom body had average looking arms and thin thighs. That was her only concern waking up for the first time.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She once started a cult because she was bored. (It was awfully successful and Y/N had to intervene and shut it down.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Her parents were cartel members. When she turned eighteen, she was expected to join said cartel with them. When she refused, her parents attempted to kill her, saying that she was a disgrace to their blood. No one knows what happened that night. But Maria joined the military a week after, and no one has seen her parents ever since.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She has multiple tattoos. The biggest one stretches from her shoulder to the elbow of her left arm.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ After she had been in the military for a while, Fernando gifted her a golden chain because she was a good friend to Diego. She wears that chain everyday.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She grew up in the same town as Fernando and Diego but they never met before the military. However, Diego’s parents worked for Maria’s parents.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When she was young she wanted to be a tattoo artist.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She loves dogs. She was the one who always wanted to take care of the K9s and no one bothered to stop her.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Has a pretty high alcohol tolerance. (She also loves beer.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She was a bully and a class clown in school. (The teachers despised her.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When her, Diego and Fernando first started as recruits, she would get into a lot of trouble for talking back to the Drill Sergeant. She despised that man so much that she slept with his wife out of spite.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Her preferred weapon of choice is a Heckler & Koch HK43.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Despite the fact at how carnally annoying she finds Fernando, she does indeed care about him and Diego.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When she got heavily drunk in a bar one night when the team were celebrating a recent victory, she made scissoring gestures with her fingers at Y/N who sighed and told Khalida to keep an eye on her. (She ended up fighting a random dude at the bar and Khalida helped her.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She can be extremely jealous and possessive over the people she cares about.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She has a cross necklace that she wears along with her gold chain. Her family were Christian so she kinda stuck to it. She doesn’t really agree with Riley’s view on God but she understands and respects his opinion.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She really likes Riley’s drawings, especially the doodles, and she got one of them tattooed. (It’s a doodle of a Heckler & Koch HK43. Riley has multiple full pages in his sketchbook with doodles of every type of gun and combat knife he knows.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She once took a picture of Y/N working out and dripping in sweat and when Khalida and Henry looked at her questionably she cleared her throat and said: “For research purposes.”

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She enjoys beating the shit out of new recruits during training. (She unironically refers to them as “fresh meat”.)

8. Henry Davis

Mental age: 35 years

Nationality: American

Place of birth: U.S.A

Rank: Master Gunnery Sergeant

Callsign: Ranger (He spends a lot of time making presentations to explain the plans and strategies he proposes for upcoming missions. The unit started calling him PowerPoint Ranger because of this, so his callsign became Ranger.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Advanced sniper techniques

- Weapon handling and proficiency

- Counter-insurgency

- Special reconnaissance

- Information warfare

- Tactical planning and coordination

- Anti-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction

- Counterterrorism

- Sabotage

- Ambush executions

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s very positive. You’ll always find a smile on his face.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Cracks the most horrendous dad jokes.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Just like Diego and Riley, he’s a very good cook and does most of the cooking in the house with them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is arguably the most skilled sniper in the unit.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His intelligence and mission planning tactics are of the highest level and he is one of Y/N’s most valuable assets.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s a family man. Moreover, he absolutely loves kids, and they stick to him like glue whenever he’s around.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is the one who bakes the birthday cakes for teammates’ birthdays.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Before the team decided to give him the callsign “Ranger” they called him “Stars n Stripes”. (Because he’s American, badum tss.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He can be as friendly as Diego. Arguably, even more.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Both of his arms are covered in sleeve tattoos.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He had to babysit his nieces during duty hours once. They wanted to play dress up and forced him to participate. The problem was that he had a very important meeting with the team and the General at the time, to discuss an upcoming classified mission. He showed up to that meeting with green eyeshadow, smudged mascara, smeared red lipstick and hot pink blush, because his nieces would start crying when he’d attempt to take it off. Needless to say, the whole unit was horrified and Y/N avoided eye contact with the General at all costs. Henry kept his head down and avoided drawing attention to himself as much as he could. (The whole unit was secretly dying inside from laughter.) (When the General asked who would be planning the infiltration tactics for the operation, Y/N hesitantly pointed to Henry, who gave the General the most awkward half smile. Y/N wished the ground would just open below her feet and swallow her whole.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is a M4A1 carbine.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ As mentioned in his specializations, his most important missions included counter-insurgency, special reconnaissance, counterterrorism, information warfare and anti-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Henry has played key roles in ensuring definitive victories against emerging terrorist networks.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Before he joined the unit, he was an operator for the Special Activities Division of the CIA.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His favorite equipment are laptops, sat-phones, and rocket-equipped combat drones.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Since the SAD is permitted to execute missions against enemies of the state, without consulting the Pentagon or White House, Henry has been involved in multiple actions to assassinate enemy leadership.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He really likes the doodle that Maria got tattooed from Riley’s sketchbook. He brought it up one day and he said that he also was thinking of asking Riley to get one tattooed on him. That day the team talked about it and joked that they each would get one tattooed.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He is Y/N’s right hand in planning tactics. He is the first to come up with a plan, then if Y/N approves they are to present it to the rest of the team and the higher ups.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Before Y/N became their commanding officer, he and Riley would argue every single day. Henry absolutely despised the way Riley would shit on his mission tactics proposals and that became the reason why they would be at each other’s throats every minute of every day. He still hates the way Riley finds something wrong with every single plan he makes but since Y/N finds it useful he doesn’t argue that much anymore.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He joins Fernando in watching rodeos when he has time because he genuinely enjoys it.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He had a mustache and a beard which he had had for years, so when he woke up as a Recom he was devastated to learn that Recombinants can’t grow facial hair.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He and Y/N were the only ones who actually researched about Pandora and the Na’vi before they signed their Project Phoenix contracts.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He nearly got half of his body blown to pieces in a mission in Russia and he still gets shivers thinking about it.

9. Khalida Fadel

Mental age: 34 years

Nationality: ???

Place of birth: ???

Rank: Gunnery Sergeant

Callsign: Liberty (No one knows why. This was the callsign she had when she first joined the unit and she demanded that she kept it because it was dear to her.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Counterterrorism

- Stealth expertise

- Sniper techniques

- Expertise in weapon handling and proficiency

- Target elimination

- Ambush execution

- Covert surveillance

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She showed up one day and Y/N introduced her to the unit as the new member. She left no room for questions, so everyone has went along with it since then.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Not much is known about her past before she joined the squadron, except that she has a brother who lives in the Middle East. The only people who know the whole story are Y/N and John Keller.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She’s a master combatant and one of the best operators in weapon handling and proficiency.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She’s one of the best motorcycle riders that Y/N has ever seen and she prefers to ride one during missions rather than joining them in their military cars.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You’ll almost never see her without an army headband on.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When she’s irritated, she cusses people out in Arabic.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She doesn’t usually initiate outside-of-work conversations, it has to be someone to talk to her first. But she’s very good at indulging in a conversation and it’s actually really nice to talk to her.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She’s very quiet in her combat. Has a talent for taking people out almost silently.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She has led all-women teams multiple times into battle and each time has resulted in victory.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Her preferred weapon of choice is an AK-47.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She can be excellent at motivating soldiers during battle, reminding them of why they’re there and that she’s right there with them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Her tactic-planning skills are also quite impressive but unlike Riley she doesn’t prefer to intervene in Henry’s plans.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ For some reason, her and Riley cannot maintain a conversation for the life of them. Put them in a room together and they’ll make the most awkward chitchat before staying in the most uncomfortable silence that humanity has ever experienced.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She likes Henry quite a bit and she spends a lot of time talking with him. (Maria often jokes that they have a crush on each other.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Like John and Riley, she tends to call out on bullshit whenever it happens. She does tone it down a bit more than them, but still doesn’t hesitate to point it out, no matter of who it comes from.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Even though not much is known about her past, Y/N and John have dropped hints here and there that she has had a very hard life since childhood.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She has a locket necklace with a picture of a middle aged man inside but doesn’t tell people who he is.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Khalida doesn’t see war as just liberation of land but also as freedom from the old ways.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She introduced Henry to Arabic food and that man ate that day like he was never going to see food ever again.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ She has a talent for being able to use anything around her to her advantage during battle. Oil filters of a random vehicle? She’ll use it as a suppressor. Wax and random container of bleach? She’ll make a smoke bomb out of it. Broken glass on the street? Perfect for a Shiv.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Despite everything, Y/N doesn’t trust her very much. Except for John, no one else knows why.

10. Stefan Kessler (Keßler)

Mental age: 32 years

Nationality: German

Place of birth: Germany

Rank: Artillery Officer

Callsign: Berlin (He’s massive, and the tallest operator in the unit. He was the largest soldier in the entire Marine division. Because of this and because he’s German, he was given the callsign “Berlin” to compare him to the Berlin Wall.)

Skills and Specializations:

- Sniper techniques

- Expert in weapon handling and proficiency

- Sabotage

- Infiltrations

- Clandestine tradecraft

- Ambush execution

- High Intelligence

- Torture Expertise

- Master Combatant

- Counterterrorism

More about the character:

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Very quiet. He’s usually in his own world. He won’t really talk to people unless he knows them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The first person he spoke to within the unit was Diego.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He spends most of his free time taking care of their guns and equipment.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He used to dislike Riley, since his behavior reminded Stephan of how much he hates people. Then one day, during a mission where it was the two of them, Oscar and Scott, he walked out to find a place to be by himself. He found a quiet place and when he walked a bit further, he saw Riley sitting by a tree, drawing in his sketchbook. He was about to turn back but Riley called him over. They ended up bonding over their shared talent for drawing, and talked for hours. Since then, they have had a good friendly relationship.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His favorite people within the squadron are Diego and Oscar.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He prefers to stay home when the unit goes out to celebrate victories. He just enjoys alone time. Sometimes he does go out with them but doesn’t do much, just stays at a table, slowly sipping from a pint glass of cold beer while watching whatever is going on around him.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The smell of gun oil calms him down because his safe space is when he’s taking care of their guns and equipment.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ To keep his body mass he has to eat very large quantities of food, and he feels bad when one of his teammates says they’re gonna cook for the day. This has been brought up multiple times and everyone assures him that he’s really not the problem, because they’re all bulky built soldiers and they all eat a lot. (Diego, while tying his apron, also told him that he shouldn’t be feeling guilty about this when Fernando Álvarez exists.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Back when he was a recruit, when Drill Sergeants would see him for the first time, they would look at him like basketball coaches look at a very tall kid who has just stepped foot in the school for the first time.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He doesn’t curse much, only when something goes wrong in a mission or when he drops something while oiling their guns, and even then he curses under his breath and in German.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Even as a Recom, he is the largest Na’vi among both Recombinants and Avatars. He has it the hardest to move around in human-sized spaces and since he ends up tipping everything over, even people, Y/N mostly keeps him at their living quarters. And he doesn’t mind one bit.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a talent for crafting gadgets with very few materials. Give him a couple of batteries and some wire and he’ll make something very useful with it.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ When he was a kid he wanted to be a veterinarian.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s very intimidating and he knows it. But unlike Riley, he doesn’t enjoy it too much. He does like it that he’s able to intimidate the enemy with his size however.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He loves cats. He always feeds the strays when he sees them.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s a good babysitter. He minds his business. The kids mind their own and at the same time they don’t get into trouble because they’re lowkey scared of him. Who wouldn’t be, the man is huge. Boom. Babysitting 101.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s a smoker. John tried to get him to stop but to no avail. He smokes Marlboro religiously and will not have any other brands.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has a very good understanding of his body. From what foods are best for him to what exercises strain his muscles more. He knows his strengths and his limits perfectly.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His preferred weapon of choice is a M249 SAW.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He’s a master at grilling. Whenever the team decides to have a barbecue night, he’s the one slaying above the grill. (Scott has gifted him an apron that reads “Grill Daddy.” Yes, he had a lot of questions when he received said gift.)

⋆☠︎︎⋆ His father was a butcher so he basically grew up in a butcher shop. His mother was a drug addict so he never really saw her unless she came at their doorstep to beg for drug money.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He has multiple tattoos on his arms and body and some of them he designed himself.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Just like Oscar, he is very calm and calculated during combat. Since he’s older, that makes up for Oscar’s lack of experience.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ If Riley or John are busy, then he is usually the guy who’s gets put in charge of the interrogations.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Sometimes the team refers to him as the “Gun Bunny” because he’s the artilleryman.

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