#bc it's not my job to clean up after her. this is fucking ridiculous.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

mom's bf's daughter clogged the fucking toilet again right before leaving for an overnight trip.

[moonchildstyles]

Guess what I was going through my phone notes and found some things🫣 I don’t know if I ever sent these to you or not soooooooo I’m just going to send them again 🤪 sorry if I have just delete them either way it will be a nice walk down memory lane for you 🤣

Here is one!

I’m completely the type of person that even if some one says something that doesn’t hurt my feelings, if it’s said in a stern/yelled at me….I’m 100% gonna burst into tears. And that just so gives me angel vibes like I feel like she the same way. If some one yells at her she’s :( v upset about it. And imagineeee if it happens in front of Harry…he’s not gonna stand for it. Like maybe all the boys at the shop had suchhhh a busy Extra long day. And they’re all cleaning up. And Angel is even there helping too. Doing little things to help close up so every one can get home. And after she finished her job of wiping down one off the boys chairs, (let’s say it’s Liam’s because 🤭) when she turns around to Ask Harry what else she can do to help, she bumps into Liam’s tray and knocks everything off and she’s “oh! I’m so sorry!” And he’s “Jesus Christ y/n! Watch where you’re going! God I just cleaned all the stuff” and y/ns “…..I’m really really sorry :((((“ and Harry would literally come from the other side of the shop and “what the fuck???? Don’t fucking talk to her like that you fucking dick. Clean this shit up and leave” and he’d pull her into his office and she’s all :((((( “m’ sorry Harry. I’m really really sorry I didn’t-“ and he’s “hey shhh not mad at you baby. Cmere, you okay? You hurt?” And she’s “no. M okay” and he’s “oh angel :(“ and I feel like a lot of the times he has to remind her that it’s okay to cry :( cus growing up she got called dramatic and ridiculous for it:(

omg I really do love the idea of that like I think there was a concept a little while back w her like helping out one day like during the summer probs and shes just helping out at the reception desk and helping check ppl in and schedule stuff and like one day a client was really mean to her and h ofc would be so mad and I just love that idea bc work Is hard and shes just a girl:( but you know hes always right there and making sure shes okay and assuring her she did the right thing and thats shes okay:(

[starrysmiling]

my theory on jax's parents

i've been sitting on this one for a long while and finally got the push to write this up. i want to write about this in the future, but there's bits here that have got to wait until cube corp releases, so... i'm just going to talk about it while i'm here.

anyway. as we all know, jax seems to be raised by arthur, and neither of them ever mention his parents.

so where. the fuck. are they.

spoiler alert: just between you and me, i think they're dead. not that it's confirmed or anything...

so... let's begin with a preword. the jax in my canon is 22, since unlike ace and the player, he doesn't have a canon-implied age. (this did not stop me from making fern 21.)

this makes him just slightly older than the meteorite strike on crater town, which happened 20 years ago. it's important to note this, because he needs to be alive for his parents to die in the aftermath of the meteorite strike.

whoops. did i just say that?

let's just change tracks for a bit.

arthur is training jax to be the next champion. that's quite obvious from the story, he says it outright, there isn't any question about that. but i think that originally, arthur wanted his own child to succeed him. it's also something to think about if you consider that he stepped down from the champion's seat before the events of the game, which prompts me to think that he wanted a successor before he stepped down, but he couldn't train jax in time bc jax was still too young.

so let's go with that: arthur intended for his child to succeed him as the next champion after he steps down. thus: arthur's child, and one of jax's parents, would likely be a ferociously strong trainer.

i'd like to think that they met someone while they were training or journeying, fell in love, eventually decided to marry them, and have a child. why didn't they decide to become champion? this is just a hc, but considering elias is Still there and the league hasn't found a replacement and arabella is working there because her dad doesn't make money... yeah, i think the league is kinda understaffed. hell, i make fern struggle with his champion duties, but even if arthur is a better fit for the role, being the champion's child means they would be able to see how harsh the role is on arthur. and maybe they don't really want to be the champion just yet, when arthur still can do his job well.

and they're still young, after all. they want to have a bit of fun in their life, journey around as a trainer, raise their kid with lots of care, then maybe go get that champion role once arthur's done his term.

so now, little jax is two years old. the meteorite has just been shattered over valley city, and the residents have been transported back to help clean up the town. volunteers and volunteer pokemon from nearby cities, like dresco town, are called to help with the restoration efforts.

and jax's parents are part of those volunteers, naturally. they're both pokemon trainers, after all.

and here's where it starts going to shit.

remember that two pokemon came down to earth with the meteor? jirachi was sealed away after the residents realised its power, but another pokemon landed a little to the northeast.

and deoxys is powerful. pksp red, one of the strongest trainers, if not the strongest in the series, is almost powerless against deoxys when he first battles it. it takes him a bit of a bond with a rogue mewtwo and several tough battles, some difficult enough to shatter his mentality, to defeat it, and even then, it's an uphill struggle for him.

that's the pokemon that jax's parents find: a ridiculously strong pokemon from outer space that nobody's seen or recorded before. remember, it immediately fights you if you talk to it, so i suppose... they fight. and if they can see the utter destruction that could come out of deoxys's power, there's no way they're letting that pokemon get to the town, where unarmed people are working on clearing the rubble. so they fight, and they fight, but deoxys is strong, and clearly not even two people are a good enough fight against it, and soon their pokemon are worn out and deoxys's attacks are injuring the pair themselves.

they put together a plan. one holds off the strange pokemon from outer space — for the sake of my canon, this is the stronger one, arthur's daughter — and the other runs back to the town to alert the guardian of borrius, who is overseeing the restoration efforts. if anyone can beat this pokemon, it's the legendary aros.

and so jax's father flies back to crater town. he'd been persuaded to go, being more heavily injured by the fight, and desperately searches for aros, explains the situation, and immediately brings him to the crater where they found deoxys.

but it's too late by then.

they find jax's mother, barely conscious and mortally wounded, being fiercely protected by her pokemon who are only barely standing. aros thanks her, and with their combined efforts, barely manage to defeat deoxys and seal it in sleep. jax's father returns to his wife's side, only for her to sigh her last breaths before they can treat her wounds.

aros notices that jax's father's wounds can still be treated, but though aros hurries him back to town... perhaps the loss of his wife weighs too deeply on him, and he doesn't make it.

and jax, still only two years old, is left in the care of his grandfather.

his parents are called heroes — they fought so that crater town would not suffer a second disaster in quick succession, and that's why jax in my canon is so set on being a hero. his admiration for aros is also partly from seeing how he handled the incident, making sure that he didn't take the credit for holding off deoxys and ensuring that people wouldn't forget that jax's parents died in order to keep the town safe.

and, also, aros is basically the local superhero. he's cool as hell. no wonder he's kinda jax's idol.

anyway. i really want to write more about this concept, and there's a scene where i want jax to meet aros and for aros to tell him, properly, about his parents. that'll be the first time that i've ever written jax crying in canonverse, because hearing aros, his idol, apologise to him for not being able to save his parents and recount that they genuinely were heroes in his eyes is a lot to process. (it's also really funny considering that jax hasn't cried in front of fern, but he has cried in front of fern's dad.)

as a way of finishing this arc of jax's life, i really also want to suggest that after fern captures jirachi, jax tags along with him to fight deoxys.

and this fight — this is jax's fight. fern can tell that this jax is different from seeing him stare down deoxys across the crater. there's something twisted about the fact that jax is now facing it with his own partner, twenty years later.

jax, heightened by raw emotion, seems to fall back into his more reckless, daring tactics. he plays fern's hyper-offensive role, actually, and fern plays jax's support, making sure that jax doesn't run himself ragged, following up after his strikes, covering when they're in trouble. it's not like they made a name for themselves as an unstoppable duo for nothing.

the conclusion of this arc is jax's capture of deoxys, after a grueling battle that whittles at his strength and mental state. in a way, earning deoxys's respect, being able to capture it in a ball, and being able to say that he finally, finally defeated the pokemon that killed his parents, is a sort of closure that he probably didn't know he needed.

did you see that, mom, dad?

i beat it. you can rest easy now.

[alucart]

actually fuck it lmao

got hired late september. started actual work in october. started off as a seasonal worker. every day i woke up for work i was dreaded it. it was so much work. i was fatigued everyday but i still had to give it my all or else i was "lazy". if i moved too slow i was considered rude to customers. if i dont smile im rude. if i take a minute to process something then "something is wrong with me." like. Okay. lmao.

obviously when applying for jobs i dont list the fact that im bipolar. hell, i probably have adhd. but beside the point, the fact i have to act a certain way just to keep a job thats barely paying me shit was so. annoying. the fact that while working seasonal i had to put up with so much shit was ridiculous. november and december was so awful. im still mad i had to wake up at like 4am to get to work at 5am and then the store wasnt even busy until 12am. and we had to wear red and make sure everything was perfect bc the ceo was coming to the store? LMAO?

after my seasonal hours were over i thought i was free. i wasnt working for like two weeks but i at least got to spend time with my family. clean. take care of myself. i actually got back to drawing, something i havent been able to do for months. and then they called me back for a full time position. of course i took it because i wasnt finding anything else but it mightve been the worst mistake like ever.

like i must preface, that i got the job for the seasonal position in the first place without an interview, and like, yes i knew that was fishy at the start but also, ive been looking for a job for over two years so i was desperate. somehow the full time position was even worse than the seasonal position. my manager felt more annoying.

not to mention at this point they were making me do shit that i was never hired to do. why am i organizing clothes? i take returns? why are you making me cover in the handbags department? i work in returns and help people with online orders? why are you making me pack online orders? I WORK IN RETURNS, HELP PEOPLE WITH ONLINE ORDERS AND I HAVE PROCESS RETURNS FOR ORDER PICKUPS THAT WERE NEVER PICKED UP?

honestly madness. i had many breakdowns. over not wanting to go back to work. one time i had a stomach virus and had to stay home from work and was so miserable and literally panicking because i thought i could lose my job from being sick. i had a coworker that they also hired full time and she got fired because she "took too many breaks" meanwhile there was another coworker that took way more too many breaks.

while working there i saw many people get fired. like i dont know. and it was constantly understaffed. one time my manager asked me if i could work for 50 hrs one week and i told her "i'll think about it" only to find that weekend she changed my schedule without asking. (i had a breakdown that weekend).

when they had me set up my availability i had changed it so i would get mondays and tuesdays off because i realized i need two days off in a row instead of two random ass days and they didnt even. abide by that. and by the time it was like that on my schedule i already lost my job because i "violated company policy" because i accidentally scanned some fake coupons. which mind you, i never did anything wrong at the job beforehand so i shouldve really got a warning instead of being straight up fired.

but i honestly think they just wanted to get rid of me because i couldnt get enough people to sign up for a credit card, which again, i work in returns, so most people doing a return do not want to apply to a card. to expect someone in returns to have someone sign up for a fucking credit card everyday is insane. telling people that its not really a credit card is even more insane. the fact that im still stressed out over this because im fucking unemployed is. insane!!! and i dont even know if i can get unemployment. i feel like crying.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

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

-

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[fuck-customers]

A fuck managers/store owners:

At my former job at a Midwest fast food chain, I had just been promoted to shift leader like 3 months previous to this incident.

At night, part of my job was to clean the pass through where we put hot food so it could then be bagged up front. It had this large tray part that lifted out and a set of tongs that fitted into it. After cleaning it would be put back for the morning. I always put the tongs back with it bc to me, it was just a part of the pass through.

The GM and owner (who were frequently in store) had this big thing about bringing any issues up to them right away instead of letting it fester. But.

For three months, I did my close the same and they never commented on anything being done wrong. Then, they had a store wide meeting in which they called me out and ranted for 10 full minutes about how the tongs for the pass through weren't meant to be put back, and that we were expected to follow procedures, and were held to a high standard etc etc. They behaved as if I was willfully and repeatedly defying them in something major. They never ONCE mentioned that I was doing anything wrong. It was humiliating and infuriating. The hypocrisy too!

This was only one of many, many ridiculous incidents at this place. The GM and store owner were sisters and the owner was very manipulative and gaslit me all the time. Of course the GM believed her over me bc they were sisters. :/

[2dmenenthusiast]

Request: [@wnderwater ] Oh it’s a shame I was your first request I love your aizawa stuff but may I have hcs (or scenario if you feel like it) for aizawa with an s/o that has a habit of making sure everythig is clean & tidy because messy cramped places make her anxious bc as a kid she hated how her neglectful parents let their home become messy and she became claustrophobic and one day the guys only find out that she’s so badly affected by tight spaces when they get stuck in an elevator or closet and she starts to panic

Omg literally I am so sorry this took forever to get to I’ve just been hella stressed and busy and ugh. But things have calmed down now since Christmas is over (until new years) so please don’t let this deter you all from requesting lmao. Anyway, thank you bubs for requesting again and thank you for liking my Aizawa fics. I honestly love writing for that grump lol. (also sorry I couldnt make this a whole scenrio I wanted to get this out for you and im literally exhausted) Anyway let’s get on with it.

first thing first, I’m not claustrophobic so I hope I write this well lol

but for you lovelies that might relate-

you didn’t tell Aizawa about your phobia for cramped spaces when you first started going out

you didn’t tell him at all actually

he found out for himself {the observant bastard)

he didn’t find out right away though.

He would notice times where you’d both be in the elevator at the school, and you would kinda shift and just look really uncomfortable

He always asked if you were okay, and you’d tell him you were fine (but in reality you were praying the ride up and down the floors would just end already as you fidgeted with your hands to try nd distract yourself)

You never mentioned your past to him either

sure he’d caught bits and pieces whenever you accidently let something slip or had a bit too much to drink, or during the rare occasions where you actually opened up about certain things you liked to keep to yourself.

But he only knew a few things for sure

1. your parents weren’t the greatest

2. you couldn’t stand clutter

the second one he didn’t have to pry out of you to know, he saw it with his own eyes everytime you came over and would try to discretely tidy up his place

now, aizawa was a relatively clean guy

sure he napped in a sleeping bag and looked homeless most of the time, but he kept his house clean and showered regularly, so whenever you came over and immediately started picking up his discarded things, he honestly felt kinda bad

Was he too messy? Did he digust you?

Oh god please reassure this baby

If he confronts you about it, you do let him know why you constantly tidy up

and hey dont worry, he’ll try to understand. He’s just glad it doesnt really have anything to do with him.

from then on, he’ll make sure to pick up a bit whenever he knows you’re coming over so he’s not unintentionally kinda stressing you out.

this grumpy man cares about you and will do whatever to make you feel comfortable

when you come over one day and the place is all nice and neat, he’s just kinda standing there looking at you while you look around like

“Did I do okay? Are you comfortable?”

and you just give him a big ol’ smooch. like yes baby, thank you

still he doesn’t really know you’re claustrophobic until you both are in the elevator at the school one day

of course, it’s already uncomfortble as it is

but then the lights flicker, and the elevator jostles before suddenly stopping and- oh no

you’re trapped. You’re stuck in this metal death box and you’re never getting out

so you’re like, internally freaking out, right?

and aizawa just sighs, pressing the emergency button a few times as he just stands there like this is just a daily occurrence

but this isn’t a minor inconvenience for you. Sure, you’ll look back on this later and think “Oh god, I was so ridiculous then.”

but right now?

Yeah, you feel like the metal walls are about to cave in and fucking crush you

you place a hand on the wall and feel the cool surface against your skin, trying to feel something to ground you in the reality that everything will be fine. someone will come and get you and you’ll go on with your day

but your mind is just like “Nope, sorry.”

Now aizawa’s looking at you, and you know you’re starting to show signs of how anxious you feel

you’re breathing heavy, and you duck your head down to try and calm down but nothing is working

and of course aizawa can just immediately pick up on what’s wrong because he’s attentive and perfect and oh god pls marry me sir

Ahem anyway

Mans is immediately by your side, asking you what’s wrong and what he can do to make your feel better

and he’s pissed at this point because why the fuck isn’t anyone getting you both out of here

can’t they understand that his partner is in distress?!

so he just

gently takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him like-

“Hey, I’m right here, y/n. Just focus on me, okay? just listen to my voice.”

and it’s honestly working? He’s a perfect distraction from the thoughts going wild in your head and wow have his eyes always been this beautiful?

By the time someone finally rescues the both of you, you’ve calmed down a bit now, but aizawa still rushes you out of the elevator and takes you to the teachers lounge so that you can rest and have some water

he then insists that you go home

and you’re just like “uhh I’m fine? Seriously I’ll be okay.”

but he insists of course. it’s not that he doesn’t think you can do your job, he’s just worried

after a bit of convincing, he finally relents

From then on whenever you take the elevator, he makes sure he’s with you in case something happens again, even though Nezu has assured him the issue has been fixed

[detectivesofty]

staking your claim | j.h.

Summary: Natalie has problems with Nina and you’re helping out, like the good future sister (in-law??) you are

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Doctor!Reader / Natalie Manning x Will Halstead / Nina Shore x Will Halstead

Song I listened to while writing: Bust Your Windows by Glee (cuz it’s a fucking bop)

Author’s Note: I literally wrote this in one sitting bc I got inspired lmao. This is very heavily centered around Natalie and Reader’s friendship, because I feel like Nat needs someone in her corner. This takes place in Season 2, Ep. 19 of Chicago Med and I know Jay and Reader’s relationship doesn’t make sense canon-wise, but this is a fanfic after all, so let’s just pretend that Jay and Reader have been in a commited relationship with each other for a while. Happy reading!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1,9k

“Hey Y/N,” Nina greeted you and you barely glanced up to greet her back, your focus entirely on your notes. Nina then turned to Natalie, who was standing right next to you.

“Hey Natalie. Can I ask you a favor?”

Natalie, held a finger up. “Uhm, one second,” she said, turning back to April. “Hey April, can you try and track down Connor for me?”

“Alright.”

“Thank you!” Natalie turned back to Nina, the stress written all over her face. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“I was going to give this to Will, but he’s busy. Can I leave it with you?”

That suddenly got your attention. Why would Nina ever ask Natalie for a favor regarding Will?

Natalie paused as well. “Sure,” she then replied, reaching a hand out for the jersey.

“He’s going to watch the game with his brother tonight. I slept in it last night and when he left this morning I was still in bed,” Nina added with a laugh and you furrowed your brows, while you kept your head down. 

“I’d leave it in his locker but I wanted to make sure he gets it.”

You rolled your eyes, but put on a smile when Nina looked at you. She wasn’t the best actress and you could see right through her act, even if Natalie didn’t.

Natalie seemed a bit lost as she held the jersey, glancing at you briefly. “... Okay?”

“Thanks. You’re the best. Bye Y/N, see you later!” Nina called over to you before leaving the ED. 

You forced a smile and waved at her, before turning to Natalie. She was still staring at the jersey in her hands and you nudged her gently. 

“Hey you okay?” 

Natalie nodded quickly, putting the jersey away. “Yeah, I am fine… But Nina was acting weird, right?”

Chuckling, you shrugged with your shoulders. You didn’t really like Nina with Will, if you were honest. She seemed nice enough, but you never clicked with her, despite her constant efforts to spend time with you. In your eyes, Natalie was the perfect one for Will. Especially because you knew of Will’s feelings for Natalie, you know, before the thing with Nina started. 

“Duh. She’s trying to mark her territory, it was so obvious.”

“What?” 

“I am pretty sure that she sees you as a threat, Nat. And the other day-”

“Doctor Manning, Doctor Y/L/N! Incoming, vehicular accident, two girls and their mother!”

Natalie gave you a look, which meant she was in no way done with this conversation. But for the meantime, you took care of the two hurt girls. Unfortunately, the day didn’t progress as you had expected it to go. The hospital’s server got hacked and you had to resort to old-fashioned blackboards, without knowing patients’ medical history. 

At the end of the day, you were completely exhausted and just wanted to fall in bed. You threw your jacket on and grabbed your purse, when Natalie came into the lounge. 

“Hey Y/N, are you going home?” 

You gave her a tired smile and nodded. “Yeah, I am beat.”

“I wanted to talk about the thing you mentioned this morning…?”

Frowning, you thought back to earlier until you finally remembered. “Oh yeah, uhm. Do you maybe want to come over? Jay’s watching the game at a bar with Will so I’ll be alone tonight.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. I’ll just swing by Helen real quick to check on Owen, and then I’ll come over, yeah?”

Nodding, you gave her a thumbs up, rubbing her shoulder. “See you later, Nat.” With that, you left the ED and drove home to an empty apartment. The moment you stepped into your home, you let out a loud sigh at the sight of Jay’s shoes being all over the place. Moving in together was Jay’s idea. Your jobs ate up a lot of your time and when Jay was on a hard case, you often had gone days without seeing each other. Living together had a lot of pros, but that was before you knew Jay loved leaving his shoes where he took them off, which could be basically anywhere in the apartment. 

But you loved that man, so you’d put them away for now and kick his ass later. 

Dropping off your purse on its designated place, you headed to the shower straight away. After a refreshing shower, you ordered pizza for you and Natalie, when a text from Jay came in.

Jay: hey babe, you home yet?

You: yeah, just got out of the shower

Jay: Without me?😜

You: First of all, ew You: second of all, you’re too old to be using emojis

Jay: 😭

You: nat’s coming over now and I just ordered some pizza

Jay: okay, have fun, love you Jay: save me some slices!

You: Love you too. And no!

At that moment, the doorbell rang and you put the phone away to open the door, expecting either Natalie or the delivery guy. But instead, it was Natalie, the delivery girl. 

“I bumped into the delivery boy on my way up and paid him,” Natalie said and you beamed at her, ushering her in. 

“You didn’t have to do that. Come in!”

You grabbed a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, then situated yourself on the couch with Natalie. The two of you devoured a couple of slices before Natalie spoke up. 

“So. About what you said this morning… Why would Nina see me as a threat? I don’t see Will that way.”

Pouring yourself another glass of wine, you gave Natalie a look. “Really? I see the way you look at him, Nat. The two of you have always been dancing around each other. Nina has eyes, she can see that.”

Natalie opened her mouth, frowning, before she closed it again. 

“I never did anything while they were dating, I swear,” she insisted and you gave her a smile. 

“I know, Natalie. No one thinks that, I promise.”

“It’s just…” She sighed. “At first, I didn’t want to rush into a relationship, because I haven’t worked through my grief yet. And then Will wanted to move on, which I totally understood. And with Jeff, I thought he was the right one, considering his history with my Jeff. But then he turned out to be the complete opposite. And now… Will’s with Nina and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“At this point, I think you should just let their relationship run its course. I know it sounds kind of mean to say that, but I don’t think that they’re a good fit. You and Will are. You challenge each other, but also make each other better. I can see how you look at him when you think no one is watching; Will looks at you the same way, Nat.”

You could see the hope glimmer in her eyes and while you didn’t want your friend to get hurt, since Will and Nina are in fact still dating and even living together, you knew how right you were. You spent endless hours talking to Will about Natalie and you knew that feelings like that didn’t disappear overnight. 

“I just don’t want Nina to think I am trying to step on her toes and ruin their relationship, you know,” Natalie added. “The way she acted today kind of intimidated me.”

“Yeah I totally get that. She was acting a bit crazy,” you laughed and Natalie grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. 

“Enough about me and my problems. How are things with Jay?”

“Oh, things are good.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur while you and Natalie talked about everything and everyone. Nights like these were much too rare and you enjoyed spending time with your friends outside of work. It was nearing one am when you heard keys jangling at the front door, you and Natalie instinctively turning to the door. 

As the door opened, Jay stilled in the doorway, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Hey Jay.” 

“Hey babe.”

Jay waved, slightly abashed as he took his shoes off. “Hey guys, thought you were already in bed,” he mumbled, walking over to the couch to press a kiss on your head and high five Natalie. “I am just going to go to the bathroom real quick,” Jay told you and disappeared into the bathroom. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Natalie said, yawning loudly. “Don’t want to be too tired for work tomorrow.” 

You walked her to the door and leaned against the doorway while she collected her things.

“Thanks for today, Y/N. I really needed that.”

Smiling, you pulled her in a tight hug. “Anytime, Nat. That’s what friends are for. Get home safely, okay?” 

“I will. Say bye to Jay for me,” Natalie answered and you nodded, waving before you closed the door. With a yawn, you locked it and trudged over to the coffee table to clean it up, throwing the pizza cartons in the trash and putting the wine glasses in the dishwasher. You looked up when Jay came out of the bathroom, looking around. 

“Nat already left?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Yeah. It’s late and we have work tomorrow. You okay?”

“Mhm,” Jay nodded, leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was short and sweet, which made you smile against his lips. You pulled away after a while, observing him. His cheeks were flushed and it was obvious he’s had a few beers. 

“What did you guys talk about?”

You snorted out a laugh. “Uh, about Will.”

“What about Will?” Jay raised a confused eyebrow. 

“You know. Will and Nat. Nina came up to her today, trying to stake her claim. Waving around Will’s jersey like it was a prize. It was ridiculous.”

Jay laughed, shaking his head. “She did? Nina’s crazy.”

Shrugging with your shoulders, you pursed your lips. “I kinda get her. I mean, if anyone would even think about getting with my man, I’d whack them.”

“Yeah?” Jay asked, smirking at you in amusement. “You’d be willing to go to prison for me?”

“As if you’d let me go to prison,” you snorted and he chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t let anyone hurt my girl.” 

You felt warmth spreading in your chest, just like it did everytime Jay called you his girl, even after all this time. 

“You wanna go to bed?” Jay asked softly and you nodded, looking up at him. 

“Carry me?”

He groaned out, but complied anyway, hooking his arms under your thighs to hoist you up, carrying you into the bedroom. The two of you quickly got changed and slipped under the sheets, cuddling up. 

“You know,” Jay murmured, nosing along your neck. “I think you’re right about Will and Natalie. He’s still got that look in his eyes when he talks about her.”

“Yeah? I thought so. He should stop leading Nina on, then. It’s not really fair.”

“Tell him. He listens to you more.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted Jay’s hands away, reaching for your phone to text Will.

You: Get your head in the game, Will. If you still have feelings for Natalie, you should end things with Nina. It’s not fair for either of them. 

Unsurprisingly, ellipses popped up a minute later.

Will is typing…

Will: You’re right. Thanks.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Hot Peppers

Pairing: Geraskier

Warnings: i mean unless youre scared for life from a bad experience with spicy 

___________

"I'm not kissing you if you eat that." Geralt's nose crinkled in disgust at the plate of hot pickled peppers a barfly had challenged Jaskier to eat. 

"What? These?" Jaskier, with his flair for the dramatic, stabbed a fork through one and held it under his nose,  the acids bringing tears to his eyes, "Don't be daft, they're just peppers." 

Geralt pointed at him with a fork full of blandly seasoned meat and a small chunk of cheese, "I'm not kidding. Your mouth will not make contact with my body if you eat even one." Geralt regretted it as soon as he said the words, seeing Jaskier’s eyes light up at what he took as a challenge. 

Turning back to the original challenger, Jaskier smirked, “I never was one to back down. Here goes.” He toasted the idiot across from them and popped the whole thing in his mouth, biting off the stem with a rather disgusting squelch. 

Geralt sighed and shook his head, watching as his bard slowly went from pale to crimson, looking more like a tomato than human after a moment. When he ate the second one his heart started beating furiously. On pepper number three he was sweating. By the time he finished the plate, Jaskier was nearly dancing around the table, but he still hadn’t taken a drink of ale. 

The local grumbled in bitter disappointment as he handed over the few gold pieces he’d wagered and disappeared as Jaskier downed his, and then Geralt’s ale. 

“Was it worth it?” Geralt asked, handing him a chunk of cheese meant to suffocate the fire.

Jaskier just grunted, popping the dairy in this mouth and straddling the bench next to him, resting his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Can I say ‘I told you so’ yet?”

Jaskier shook his head with a high pitched whine as Geralt flagged down the barmaid for more ale, cold if they had it. 

-------

Hours later, after Jaskier had eaten his weight in cheese and nearly drowned in ale, he was finally able to breathe normally and his heart slowed enough to ease Geralt’s nerves. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier called from the sink in their room, “I can’t feel my tongue.”

The witcher felt a pang of adoration despite the ridiculousness of it all, “I told you so.”

The bard shot him a pout over his shoulder, now brushing his teeth vigorously and attempting to speak around the brush, “Doo shoonb”

Geralt grinned back at him, settling into the chair in the corner with his leather polish and Roach’s bridle. He only managed to clean her chinstrap before the leather was being tugged from his hands and his bard fell into his lap.

“Kiss it better?” Jaskier asked, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his neck in a way that always made him shiver. 

Geralt sighed and leaned his forehead against his bard’s, “No.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s whine of protest only made his smile widen.

“I warned you.”

“But I brushed my teeth!”

“I can still smell it. If I can smell it, it’ll definitely burn.”

Jaskier leaned back against Geralt’s arm keeping him from falling off his lap and rolled his eyes, “A kiss for your lover isn’t worth a little spicy burn?”

Geralt brushed his fingers through his bard’s soft, dark hair, doing his best not to look him in those irresistible blue eyes, “If it were just peppercorn, then it would be.”

Jaskier gently gripped Geralt’s wrist, bringing his palm to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on his callouses. When he saw his witcher’s jaw clench, not in the way it was supposed to, he heaved a deep sigh and clasped the hand between both of his. 

“Those damned senses.” 

Geralt hummed in agreement, pulling his bard close to his chest, resting his chin on the crown of his head when the brunet nuzzled into him. His arm draped over Jaskier’s back, hand resting on his shoulder where his thumb lazily drifted back and forth over the edge of his clavicle. It didn’t matter to Geralt how often they touched, he always did his best to commit every moment perfectly to memory. These were the nights he wanted to remember in his old age, not the beasts he fought or the nightmares that haunted him. He wanted to bottle up the peace and comfort for safekeeping when he needed it most. 

Jaskier was smoothing his fingers over the spot on his palm that still stung, his featherlight touch not doing much to soothe the pain, but it spoke of his apology. 

“I love you.” Geralt whispered his declaration as he pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head.

“I love you too. ...you big softie.” 

---------

Geralt woke to Jaskier gently tracing his fingers over his scars, head resting on the witcher's shoulder as he hummed a soft slow tune. He took another beat before opening his eyes, savoring the closeness and basking in the feeling of floating between states of consciousness. When he finally greeted the morning in earnest he was nearly blinded by the light from the window. As he squinted and willed his eyes to do their job, Jaskier propped himself up on an elbow to gaze lovingly down at him. 

His hair, tousled with sleep caught the light like a golden crown, "Good morning, darling." 

Even decades into their relationship, Geralt had to remember how to breathe with him so close sometimes, "Morning love." 

"Did I wake you?" Jaskier asked, resting a hand over Geralt's chest and his chin on the back of his knuckles. 

Geralt shook his head slightly, drinking in his ocean blue eyes like he'd never see them again. 

The bard frowned, "Did you have a bad dream?" 

Geralt simply shook his head again, a small smile gracing his lips. 

"Then why are you staring at me like that?" Jaskier giggled as he spoke, shaking the two of them ever so gently. 

The witcher tilted his head, bringing his hand up to draw a line down his lover's forehead to the tip of his nose, "You're exceptionally beautiful in the morning." 

"If I'd known all I had to do to hear such lovely words was be here when you wake, I'd have done it so much earlier." The blush in Jaskier's cheeks betrayed his cool words. 

"I try to talk more. I do." Geralt mumbled, tapping at Jaskier's bottom lip, momentarily fascinated by the little popping noise it made when he let it snap back up to it's partner. 

Jaskier shimmied up the bed to eye level with his Witcher to kiss him, a little passionate for such an early hour, but he'd been deprived the night before, "I know." 

For a moment Geralt was going to say something so sickeningly sweet even the bard might laugh at him, then the tingling and stinging reached his brain. 

"Ow! Oh shit. Fuck me, that's hot!? What the fuck kind of fucking torture peppers were those!?" He sat up, frantically wiping the spit off his lips, tongue, teeth, anything he could think of with his shirt sleeve.  

Jaskier rolled into his back, more than a little stunned, "You can still taste them? They were just habaneros." 

Geralt scrambled out of bed to turn on the sink, leaning over to stick his whole head under the faucet. 

"No! Geralt, that'll spread it around. Here, I've got some dried meat here somewhere…" Jaskier gripped him by his collar and pulled him away from the sink, keeping a grip on him as he dug through their packs. 

The salt did little to soothe the burn, but the chunks of smoked fat did wonders for his sensitive nerves. After a few minutes of chewing at the gummy tissue the sensation faded to the background and Geralt noticed the delight on Jaskier's face. 

"This isn't funny." 

Jaskier raked his teeth over his lower lip, "I never said it was." 

"You're practically giggling." Geralt argued, standing to spit the chunk of gristle out in the bin.

"You're just so cute. The infamous White Wolf taken down by the day old remnants of a pepper on his lover's lips." Jaskier crossed to him, resting his hands on his hips and laughing in earnest at the pout his words earned, "No more spicy then." 

Geralt kissed his forehead, "No more spicy." 

[sarcastically-defensive17]

might be a weird request but an angsty fic of calum & reader r dating at a party but cal’s been givin the silent treatment cuz the reader did smth clumsy and cal got mad & they argue & at the party a drunk dude is all on her & she’s tipsy/mad/throws a drink on him & ends up bein a big fight & the band hears & sees the guy slap her causing calum go crazy feels guilty bc he wasn’t with her & the band protect her & kicks him out, fluff at the end insp: snooki getting slapped on jersey shore djjdkd

Fine - C. Hood

TRIGGER WARNING: NON CONSENSUAL SEXUAL TOUCHING AND VIOLENCE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS COULD TRIGGER YOU BECAUSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT!!

I love this idea and I had to watch that video like seven times to get inspiration. I hope you like it! I couldn’t think of a plot for so long!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

There was something off with Calum. No rhyme, no reason, no explanation for his bad attitude, just random bursts of anger that led to venomous words falling off of his tongue.

Y/N hadn’t seem him actually happy in a while, and she had no idea what caused his outbursts.

She had been dealing with it, but the more he snapped, the harsher he was. She was starting to really dislike being around him, even more so, being at their shared house.

She had a breaking point, but he hadn’t yet hit it, until one Thursday night she had the girls over while the guys had a night out.

The wine had been passed around and they were all a little buzzed by the time the men returned home.

Shit truly hit the fan when Y/N gestured widely with her glass in hand.

She was always a clumsy person, that was no secret, and usually Calum would tolerate it with a smile on his face.

Until she spilled red wine all over Ashton’s white shirt. Everybody laughed it off, except for Y/N.

She rushed around trying to get the liquid out of the shirt it threatened to stain, and the minute her hands lingered on Ashton’s chest for a minute too long, Calum’s insecurities went haywire.

But in true Calum fashion, he refused to mention it to her until she noticed he was giving her the silent treatment after everybody had left for the night.

“Okay, enough,” she threw the cloth she was holding. “What have I done wrong now?”

Her tone was stern. She was sick of his random outbursts and bouts of silence. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way and she was determined to let him know that.

“Nothing,” came his curt response as he directed a look towards her that told her not to push it.

But she was never one for listening.

“No, Calum. I’m sick of this.” Her jaw was set as she folded her arms across her chest.

He let out a snide laugh, and her heart sank at the sound.

She had no idea what had gotten into Calum, but she really hated it. He was a boatload of insecurities and he took them all out on her.

“What do you have to be sick of? You sure looked fine when you were all over my best mate,” he rolled his eyes, setting his jaw to match hers.

“You’re joking!” She laughed louder than she should have, completely intent on reciprocating the sarcasm dropping from his tongue. “I was trying to clean his shirt, but oh no, I’m guessing in your mind, I want him!”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he mumbled under his breath, turning to walk away from her.

“What did you just say?” She gaped.

He was scared of losing her. It was no excuse, but he was so terrified of her finding love in another and it made his insecurities flare up. He had been hurt many times before, and he was preparing himself for the worst.

He just didn’t realize how far he was pushing her.

She grabbed onto his shoulder and spun him around to face her.

“What did you say,” she spoke through a clenched jaw. She had enough. She was sick of being made to feel as if she couldn’t be around any other male.

“I said, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he spat and he watched as her face fell slightly.

She shook her head, puffing her cheeks as she did so.

“You are ridiculous, Calum.” Her hands were on her hips and her brows were set in fury, “So first, it was random bullshit that you had a bad day and decided to take it out on me, then you were jealous, and now you’re accusing me of wanting to be with somebody else?”

Her eyes were wide and he offered her no answer, instead choosing to clench and un-clench his jaw while looking anywhere but at her.

“News flash, Calum!” She was shouting now. It wasn’t the first time he had accused her of something similar, “I’m not going to cheat on you, or leave you or whatever! You can trust me!”

He wanted to feel sad, almost hurt that he caused such pain to seep into her tone, but all he saw was red.

“How can I trust you? How can I trust you when you were all over him tonight? Huh?”

The limit was hit. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine, you don’t trust me, then get out.”

There was no room for argument. She disappeared upstairs as he scoffed behind her, collecting a bag full of his clothes and throwing it out onto the front lawn.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m not leaving,” his heart started to hammer along in his chest.

She was calm. A scary sort of calm that sent sweat pooling on his heavy palms.

“I’m not staying in a house with somebody who can’t trust me, Calum.” She blinked, grabbing his keys and snatching the door to their house off of the ring before tossing the car keys to him. “Get out.”

They went back and forth until ultimately, Calum was knocking on Michael’s front door with tears in his eyes.

She was beyond angry with Calum and in pain over the argument with Calum. They hadn’t spoken since.

Unfortunately, the same weekend after she kicked him out, the guys and their significant others were at her house for a celebratory party.

One of their songs had become number 1 in some country. She was far too tired to remember. Especially after Calum had walked in.

She expected to see him, but she didn’t expect the pain that came along with the sight of her boyfriend.

Thankfully, there were more than enough people to successfully help her evade him, but not enough to keep her away from the man who wouldn’t stop chatting her ears off.

His name, Steve maybe? She couldn’t remember. The amount of alcohol running through her veins made sure of it, and she was sure she stopped his intoxicated chatter at least 5 times to ask him for his name.

In her drunken state she managed to catch Calum’s eyes from across the room and she saw his flare once he saw the man standing beside her.

Fingers clicking in her face pulled her attention away from her boyfriend.

“Are you even listening?” A gruff voice asked. It wasn’t the attractive kind of gruffness, like how Calum’s voice is when he first wakes up, but more of a voice tainted by years of cigarette smoke, and alcohol abuse, following a naturally irritating tone.

She smiled at him, intending to return to politely listening to him ramble about his high paying but low effort job.

“Sorry, I saw somebody and got distracted,” she slurred, leaning against the table and rubbing her head. Unknowingly giving the man a perfect view of her cleavage if he were to look hard enough.

A gross smirk worked onto his face and Y/N jumped as his hand connected with her backside.

“Excuse me-“

“Let’s go up to a room, yeah?” His eyes were heavy, and she flinched as he wrapped an arm round her shoulder, roughly groping the flesh he has clasped in his other hand.

“No thank you, I have a boyfriend,” she dug her heels into the ground as he tried to pull her along with him, and she could faintly see Calum’s eyes bore into the two of them.

The man scoffed, “And? I’ve got a dog at home but I still gave the little rat you’ve got upstairs a pat.”

“What did you just say about Duke?” Her anger intensified, her drunken state more worried about defending her dog than focusing on his sleezy proposition.

His hands moved up her waist, brushing her boobs as they continued up.

She shivered at the contact, feeling sick to her stomach.

“Get your hands off of me, you dog hater!” without thinking, she lifted the hand she held her cup in and threw it in the mans face.

He went silent for a moment, barely allowing her heart to beat once before she connected with the ground. Her cheek was throbbing, tears pricking her eyes.

She could barely register the commotion around her, as a head of brown curls flew towards the man and tackled him to the ground.

Three more figures rushed to pull him off of the man, and she couldn’t stop herself from clambering towards him when she saw it was Calum.

Ashton grabbed the man by the neck, dragging him towards the front of the house as Luke yelled at everybody to leave.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you,” Calum cooed.

She could barely think of why she was mad at him. In that moment, all she could focus on was the pain in her cheek and the feeling of his arms around her.

He ordered somebody to bring him ice, before pulling her up the stairs to their bedroom. The same one she had slept in on her own for the past couple of nights.

Except for whoever delivered the ice, they were alone in the room. Duke worked his way onto the bed to lay in his owners lap as Calum inspected her face.

“M’sorry,” she whispered into the air, her head feeling as if it were swaying. The ache intensifying from where she hit the ground.

“What for, baby?” He asked, pressing a package of frozen peas to her cheek.

“That guy touched me. Maybe he thought that I want to cheat on you like you do,” she was slurring her words. The whiskey in her blood was not doing her any favors as she tried to communicate with her boyfriend. “I don’t want to cheat on you. I love you too much, you insecure bastard.”

He snorted at the seriousness in her tone. She was observing him with a purpose.

Her mouth was moving, lacking the filter provided from her brain.

“How could anybody want to cheat on you? Have you seen you? You’re hot as fuck.” Her words were slightly muffled by the bag of peas. “I’m sorry I ruined the party. I didn’t want him to hit me.”

Calum put his hands on either side of her face, making sure to watch her cheek.

“Baby, you didn’t ruin the party.”

“But everybody left-“

“And? I don’t care about everybody else,” Calum’s eyes bore into her bleary ones, and he struggled to think of why he felt so insecure in their relationship. “I care about you, and only you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you tonight, love. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

He truly felt horrible. If he were with her, he could have kept her safe. He could have kept that sleezy guy away from her. Kept his hands off of her.

“S’okay, Cal.” She grinned behind the bag of peas, “You showed him whose boss!”

Her drunken state wasn’t the most ideal for them to discuss the issue of the past few weeks, but he made a note to do so in the morning.

He knew deep in his heart that she loved him, and it was about time he grew up and put trust into her as she did with him.

“I’m sorry he touched me,” she pouted looking down at her body. “His hands felt gross. Yours are better.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her close to him.

“He won’t touch you again, baby. I promise you.”

“Thank you, macho man,” she relaxed against him, letting her eyes fall shut with a sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Also,” she sat up, letting the bag fall from her face. “If you tell me you don’t trust me again, then you can walk that fine ass out the door and I’m keeping our son.”

He chuckled softly at her, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the reminder of his disgusting words.

“Okay, Lizzo. I promise, I trust you,” she kissed him quickly, pulling back to let him continue talking. “My fine ass isn’t going anywhere unless your fine ass is right beside me, promise.”

“I do have a fine ass, don’t I?” She beamed at him.

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

[atinykidult]

A War Against Your Personal Space — Jung Wooyoung

[prompt request] [1900 words] — spy!au, enemies to lovers, “Hold your fire!”/”Suck on that!”/”Shut up for a second, will you?”/”I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

[content notes] [fluff] — There’s firearms, cussing, respectively dramatic/knowing Seongsang, endearingly annoying Wooyoung, competition, red cheeks, a lowkey cliche but satisfying(?) premise, etc., etc.

[a/n] — I’m so sorry if the lack of action is disappointing! I’m not great at it, so I focused on the recon/practice/snarky/non-fabulous aspects of the Spy!au. But there’s still plenty of aggression haha Thank you for reading! <3

.

Jung Wooyoung is a piece of shit.

That’s the only thing you can think as you continuously fire at the moving targets.

Bang, bang, bang!

Next to you, he’s doing the same.

(That is, firing at the targets. The shithead probably doesn’t even have thoughts in his head, and, therefore cannot be thinking.)

You’re doing well until you miss one target on your non-dominant side.

You aim more carefully and—

Bang!

Next to you, Wooyoung’s looking at you with an infuriatingly cocky smirk.

“You took my target!” you growl at him, angrily tearing off your ear protection.

He gives you a look. “And you missed!”

You let out a screech of anger, and without thinking do the one thing every firearm safety instructor says not to do:

You point your gun at your teammate.

His eyes are still sparkling with competition and mischief as he raises his hands. “Hold your fire,” he says almost lazily. (Your eyes keep getting drawn back to the damn smirk on his lips.)

Annoyance courses through you like a migraine.

Your hand’s itching to cock and fire.

Sadly, you would be in loads of trouble and job searching if you did.

So you drop the gun and walk away. Let him clean up.

You’re almost out the room when you hear him.

“I knew you wouldn’t! You love me way too much for that!”

“Asshole!”

Then you’re out of earshot, and Yeosang’s dry voice echoes over the intercom.

“You know, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d done it.”

“Hey!”

“It was their shot. And we both know they could have gotten it. You just wanted to show off.”

Your pride’s still smarting two days after the firing range incident because it was true you had missed.

But, still.

As you walk into work a few days later, everyone’s gathered around the whiteboard.

“Y/N! Congrats!”

With that, you know you’re employee of the month.

Yeosang’s smile is a little knowing as you join him in the center of the crowd.

There’s your name on the board, with the most votes collected.

“Your last case was really, really good!” someone comments.

Giving your thanks over your shoulder, you’re looking over who voted for you when you reach it.

The reason why Yeosang has that shit-eating grin on his face.

“It really was a pristine field mission,” a sugar sweet voice whispers in your ear. “So exquisitely done.”

You force your face to be emotionless. “Morning, asshole.” 

“Morning, sore loser.”

(That’s been your nickname for the last two days.)

“But, very clearly, I’m the winner.” You nod to the board. “For the whole month. So suck on that!”

“Oh, yes. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Yeosang’s judgmental gaze reminds you that Wooyoung is still standing too close to you, that his warm breath is still fanning over your ear. That your cheeks are burning with anger.

Was he in a war against your personal space or something?

You storm out of the circle, trying to keep your blood pressure to a reasonable level.

.

When you’re sorting through files with Yeosang later that day, you’re ranting about Wooyoung.

Eventually, he must get fed up with it.

“I know something you don’t,” he singsongs, casually dropping a folder on your side of the desk.

His expression, for what feels like the millionth time this week, is annoyingly knowing. Like he’s watching a friend push the door that says pull.

Because he’s just that kind of person, you grouch to yourself.

“...And what would that be?”

He glances at the folder he just tossed down.

Snatching it up, you find a single page of infuriating news.

“I am not working with that infantile, ridiculous, shit-for-brains—”

“I see you got the memo, too.”

And, within eight seconds, three things happen:

Wooyoung and his damn smirk materialize next to your desk.

Yeosang and his faux sweet grin leave the space next to you.

And you lose your highly annoying but perfectly lovely filing-help to the utterly disappointing replacement of Jung Wooyoung.

The disappointing replacement leans back and throws an arm around you. “I’m looking forward to working with you, partner.”

You groan and shrug his arm off.

.

“Of course you both have to do it! We picked our two prettiest agents! For this level of case, you really should blend in after all.”

“Seonghwa, sir,” you seethe, “literally any other person in this whole building is prettier than Wooyoung.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Both men level a searching gaze at you. Seonghwa’s is more analytical, and you avoid it. But that means you end up staring at Wooyoung’s for a moment too long.

You both look away at the same time.

“Anyways.” You swallow. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Y/N.” Seonghwa’s using his director’s voice; now you’re in for it. “You’re staking out the bars where all the pretty movie stars spend their evenings and get drunk, and find nice, also pretty companions for the night, and…”

You don’t know why you glance at Wooyoung when Seonghwa’s saying that. But you do.

You’re surprised to see him already looking at you.

“...So, yes, I’m sure you have to do it. And yes, I truly mean both of you.”

Realizing your cheeks are burning (a common theme recently), you stand abruptly. “Fine.”

Wooyoung has a triumphant grin on his face and copies you. “Fine!”

Seonghwa waits until you’ve both left his office when he texts Yeosang:

I did it T-T I convinced them they’re both prettier than me

u mean u took the first step at getting them past their rivalry?

At the cost of my self-esteem T-T

.

You spend the first four days doing research, where you try (and fail) to keep things peaceful by ignoring him.

Just email the link, even though he’s sitting next to you.

Just scribble down your thought on a sticky note.

Just ignore him when he bothers you.

Just! Ignore him! Especially when he bothers you.

“I’m telling you!” you finally shout. “If you actually read your contract you would have realized that your fucking lunch break—”

“Okay, okay!” he surrenders, grinning like he’s the one who won.

A few people look over at you, and as you realize this, you also realize how Wooyoung had propped against your side of the table in his ever-constant war against your personal space.

“Sit up and act like you’re a half-functional adult,” you snap.

“I’m not the one who shouted. But yes, ma’am.”

You bite your lip at the way her purrs the last words.

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t pull out the knife… you remind yourself.

So, it’s sad but true that some days you feel like you fail more than you succeed.

But you can’t be too angry when you realize at the end of day four:

“I can’t believe it. We have a whole case proposal — names, proofs, dates, everything,” you murmur, proudly scrolling down the document.

“All we’ll have to do is actually plan the operation and pick out our outfits,” Wooyoung agrees.

“Which is basically nothing since we have all of next week!”

“This is true.”

The euphoria a doing good work washes over you, and you can’t help but beam at him. “It should have taken way longer.”

"I know! We’re—” He snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head as though his words were unimportant.

To be honest, you feel fond of him as he just smiles softly. (He actually has a really nice smile, you notice.)

Then the moment passes, and you turn back to the computer.

(But he keeps looking at you.)

.

Wooyoung’s sitting down for lunch with Yeosang when the latter blurts: “You had stars in your eyes earlier. With Y/N.”

“You think I don’t know it?” he groans.

Yeosang pulls out his phone a few minutes later:

fuck i almost let it slip that we were watching them earlier but i dont think wy noticed bc hes oblivious as a rock

.

Only one hour after that, Wooyoung and you receive the worst possible news.

Which leads to you finding yourselves in an empty office at 11 that night.

“Fuuuu-uh-uuuuck,” groans Wooyoung.

You tiredly rub your eyes and kill all your tabs.

“My brain... is just… fuuuuck.”

Inclined to agree, you open a new window with slow, depressed typing.

“I can’t believe Seonghwa thought we could go in tomorrow. Tomorrow, Y/N! Why tomorrow?”

The screen doesn’t change for a good ten seconds. What were you even thinking again?

“I haven’t pulled a night this late ever! Besides field jobs obviously. But for those you’re doing something, and here we’re doing basically nothing, and I wish we were doing something—”

You draw circles on the screen with your mouse. What even were you thinking... it was a thought… it existed...

“And this is a form of abuse! I swear! If Yeosang somehow got Seonghwa to do this to us just because ‘you had stars in your eyes,’ I’m going to fucking—”

“Shut up for a second, will you?” you moan.

“...Make me.” His voice is sounds different from tiredness.

“Never heard that one before.”

“Please make me?”

There’s something in his tone that catches your attention.

When you give him an incredulous look, you find him looking at your lips. And you’re so exhausted you literally can’t process. (As you head home about fifteen minutes later, you start to process. And you realize you hadn’t hated it at all.)

“Let’s go home,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

(As you step inside your house, the rational side of you wonders what would have happened if you had stayed.)

At some point, he moves very close to you.

(He finally won his war against your personal space, you realize as you brush your teeth.)

Very close.

(Capping your lip balm container, you press your lips together and recall how his felt, pressed against yours. So softly, at least for your perception of Wooyoung. So skillfully, which does match your perception of him.)

His face is still close, but now he’s looking into your eyes.

(He has very pretty eyes; you picture them as you slip under your blankets.)

“Let’s go home,” you repeat breathlessly, “and deal with this all tomorrow.”

His hands, callused and controlled thanks to your profession, rest gently on your neck.

“Do you think all of this… All of this will work out?”

His voice is like starlight, wavering and hopeful and the sole brightness in the dark office.

“I think there’s a very good chance that this all will work out.”

(As your head hits the pillow, you look forward to the next day. Sure, Seonghwa’s going to throw a fit because you’re not ready for a case tomorrow. But you’re really looking forward to working everything out. Everything.)

.

[general ateez taglist] — @s1ardusk​ @seongghwaa​ (thank you so much for your sweet support/friendship! <3)

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Officer Cutie Pants

Anon Request: Can I do a request on our sweet little detective, where he frisks, cuffs, and has a lot of physical contact with the reader, maybe some light hearted smut at the end? :P

A/N: This became a story, but I hope it still satisfies your request. I tried some third person for a change bc I get bored with “Y/N” and “you.” However, there are some places where I had to use a “Y/N,” but I did try to limit it. Feedback welcome, as always, especially if you are like omg stahhp this is way too much “she/her” and “you” flows better sis👏

WC: 6087

Warnings: Reference to a jackass in a club who doesn’t know what “no” means, minor physical violence of said jackass, SMUT (18+ please)

* * * * *

Mike hides his laugh behind his hand as Baxter’s girlfriend pushes her ass into her boyfriend, grinding back into him as he tries his best to still her hips. His forearms are strained with effort as he holds her at bay.

“Y/N. Get. In. The. Car,” Baxter growls out before adding a quiet, “Please.”

“Youuu are gonna have to cuff meee,” she sings, twirling in his arms and wrapping her hands around his neck. “Andstuffme,” she loudly whispers, causing Mike to laugh as Baxter looks ready to die on the spot.

The night had been a fairly quiet patrol, so when Mike and Baxter got a call for a drunken disturbance outside of a nightclub in their area, they both sat up a little straighter as their adrenaline kicked in. Baxter’s breath hitched as he remembered something, his palms all of a sudden very sweaty; he rubbed them over the starchy fabric of the uniform pants that covered his thighs, and Mike glanced over from the driver’s seat.

“What is it?”

“Y/N is there tonight—I just … I’ve got that feeling. Something’s happened.”

Mike’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he flipped on the siren.

“Hey, Mike!” she calls, suddenly aware of his presence. “Bax is bein’ a loatboad of nofun.”

“A loatboad, huh,” Mike says as he walks over, his arms crossing as he looks down from his substantial height of 6’5 at both Baxter and Baxter’s girlfriend.

“I can handle this,” he says, glancing up at Mike before returning his eyes to his girlfriend’s face.

He grasps her wrists and removes her hands from his neck, gently pushing her back. She giggles and leans against the cruiser, her head tilting up to look at the night sky.

She is absolutely drunk off her ass, along with at least three of the five friends she had been partying with.

“I wanna press charges against that bi—”

“Careful, sir,” Mike says, cutting off a guy who is almost the same height as himself, except it looks like this guy currently ran his nose into a doorframe. “You wanna tell me what happened here?”

Mike maneuvers his body to block Baxter from the view of the guy who is now insisting that Bax’s girlfriend assaulted him.

“I’ll tell ya wha’ happened!” she interjects, raising her head from its spot on the car and struggling again.

“Tell me what happened,” Baxter says, moving so that his back is to Mike’s, further distancing her from the man claiming assault.

Her eyes are filled with a wild anger until she realizes her boyfriend is the only thing she can see. She blinks, then grins at him.

“Le’s go downtown, Officer Baxty-Babe. I’ll take my pants off ‘n you can do that thing you do that makes me—”

“Please, please stop, sweetheart. You need to focus and explain what happened, or I am going to have to arrest you. Which means mountains of paperwork,” Baxter explains, moving to try to capture her gaze long enough to hold her attention. “Which means it will be a week before I can do that thing to you again,” he adds in a low voice, pulling a wide smile from her as her bloodshot eyes finally settle on his again.

Staring intently into Baxter’s eyes always makes her feel like she is being scrubbed raw. His eyes look dark in the dim light of the street, but they still hold that same pull that had initially attracted her. She quickly found out that dating a cop was hell, constantly worrying about what might happen to him, and after an initial few months of swearing she was going to break it off, and Baxter showing her why she shouldn’t, she acquiesced and let herself fall ridiculously in love with him.

Which suddenly occurs to her to say.

“Iloveyousomuch,” she gushes, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re so sexy ‘n smart ‘n officery ‘n I jus’ looove you.”

Baxter blinks, a long, slow blink of patience, and releases his grasp on her wrists. He moves his hands to her face and asks her not to cry.

“‘M not cryin’!” she declares, laughing as she flings herself into Baxter’s arms, finally able to make full body contact with him, her hands travelling south to grasp his ass at an incredibly high rate of speed before he snatches up her wrists again.

“Stop!” Baxter says loud enough to make her freeze, the tears she swore she didn’t have in her eyes returning.

“Okay,” she mumbles, stepping back and going slack against the car, so slack that she just keeps sliding until she’s sitting on the ground, her ass suddenly cold as it connects with the asphalt.

Gracie and Kendra move forward to help their friend, but Baxter holds out his hand, stopping them.

With a sigh, he kneels, thankful his girlfriend can’t make any more sudden moves.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “Please tell me what happened.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t.”

“You can’t remember?”

“I re’mber.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

She finally looks up, sniffling but not yet crying.

“You’ll kill ‘em.”

Baxter’s fingers flex as he suddenly realizes he should’ve trusted that feeling in his gut all along. He looks up at Gracie and Kendra, and they are frowning.

“Did you see what happened?”

“Not until after she hit him—but it was for a good reason, Bax,” Kendra answers.

Baxter turns his attention back to his girlfriend.

“If you told the girls, you can tell me, too.”

“Gonna kill him ‘n you’ll lose your job—”

“I am an officer of the law, Y/N,” Baxter says, his voice even and soothing, the exact opposite of how he really felt. “I took an oath to protect and serve. The least I can do is protect the woman I love.”

Gracie hiccups as tears fill her eyes and she softly says, “He won’t kill ‘em—ya gotta tell him anyway.”

Too drunk to have felt Baxter’s shift in demeanor from one of embarrassment to controlled anger, she feels reassured by Gracie’s appeal.  

“Tell me what happened,” Baxter requests again in the same soothing voice, his eyes trained on her face as she looks slightly over his shoulder and into the small crowd that had gathered.  

“We were dancing. ‘N it was fine. All the girls. Guys too. Some guys, couple a guys. Some guys started dancing. Yes. Wasn’t even really payin’ attention, just dancing ‘n then one of em was pullin’ me away, tellin’ me he was taking me home ‘n I said no ‘n he wouldn’ listen so I hit em—just like you taugh’ me,” she finishes, suddenly happy again as her face splits into a wide grin as she mimicks her upward, palm-flat punch toward Baxter’s nose.

He grabs her hand in time to stop her from accidentally hitting him, but this time, instead of restraining her, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Good girl. Now, can you stay right here for me? Don’t move?”

“I like it here. ‘S comfy,” she says patting the ground and leaning her head to the side.

Baxter’s movement is a blur as he brushes past Mike and starts in on the guy who apparently couldn’t understand the word no.

“Turn around. Put your hands behind your back,” Baxter says as he pulls his cuffs from his belt.

Mike is on immediate alert, ready to back up his partner. He acknowledges the backup officers who had arrived only a moment ago, and they work to push the crowd back.  

“What the fuck, man? I’m the one with the busted nose!”

“I said turn around,” Baxter growls as he steps forward, his eyes fixed on the guy’s face. “In my area, no means no.”

“I never touched her,” the guy says, an edge of panic creeping into his voice as he realizes he’s not going to be able to use the sympathy of a few fellow men. Neither Mike nor Baxter have any tolerance for men who don’t respect women, especially intoxicated and vulnerable ones, although it turned out that this guy’s target was not at all vulnerable.

“It was loud—I didn’t hear her. I swear, Officer,” the guy babbles as he complies to being cuffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes dart back and forth

Mike steps forward and hooks Baxter’s elbow, angling him so he could lean down to his ear, “Bargain. Get him to drop the charge against Y/N if we let him off with a misdemeanor disturbance. Guy doesn’t have a record.”

Baxter’s eyes turn up to Mike’s and they are hard, unwavering, but Mike doesn’t look away. Under his partner’s gaze, Baxter’s anger falters and logic takes hold again.

“Interview Y/N’s friends while he cools his heels in the backseat. I’ll check in with the bouncer to make sure he’s never had an issue with the asshole before.”

Mike nods and is once more greeted by a cheer as he approaches Baxter’s girlfriend, a few of her friends joining in this time, making Mike grin and shake his head yet again. Meanwhile, Baxter walks the guy in custody to the backup’s cruiser and puts him in the backseat.

At least she’s okay, he thinks before he begins to clean up this mess of a night.  

*  *  *  *  *

Groaning, Baxter’s girlfriend lifts her head from the mattress between the two pillows she had fallen onto when she passed out. She has a vague recollection of her friends helping her into bed, but at the moment, much of the night was a blur.

Rolling over, she thinks hard.

Dancing. Lots of dancing.

Shots. More shots than dancing.

God, what got into me?

There is a rustling and a few thunks from the kitchen that make her sit up in bed, her heart picking up speed as she listens.

“Hello?” she calls, wondering if Gracie, Kendra, or Eliza had spent the night.

Clutching her blanket to her chest, she holds her breath as heavy footsteps scuffle down the hall.

Baxter appears in the bedroom doorway, a smile on his face and an apology for scaring her on his lips.

“You did scare me! Last night … bit of a blur,” she sighs as she lays back down.

“How much of a blur?” he asks as he moves farther into the room, his hands settling into the pockets of his gray sweats. He still has on his sneakers, and he’s wearing a black, LAPD t-shirt from the 5-k run the county hosted a few weeks ago.

She’s quiet for a moment and then sits up with a gasp, her eyes wide as she begs Baxter to tell her she’s wrong.

“I didn’t … oh my god. Please say I didn’t. That guy’s nose. OH. MY. GOD. I tried to—while you were on duty. Oh god, Bax. I’m so sorry!”

Baxter only smiles a little.

“So you remember it all?”

“The details are a little hazy—what happened to the guy I … bopped?”

“It was a little more than a ‘bop,’” Baxter says, pulling his hands from his pockets to make air quotes.

“I think I may have overreacted,” she says as she bites her lip, realizing that her mouth tastes like a drifter took a bath in it.

“The bouncer corroborated that he got pushy. It’s club policy to kick anyone out that makes physical contact, though. Apparently, you didn’t like that.”

Closing her eyes, she thinks back and remembered issuing quite a string of profanity as the bouncer escorted her out.

“Who called the cops?”

“The guy you slugged. Guess he has a modeling gig next week and no insurance. He wanted the ‘crazy bitch’ who hit him to pay for the damage she caused to his livelihood.”

“He was a model?” she asks, her lip turning up in confused disagreement. “No way.”

“Way,” Bax replies, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes squint as she thinks hard about what transpired, frowning as she looked to Baxter’s face. It is still fixed in what she calls his “cop face.” His features neutral, his mouth closed and his eyes alert as he waits for her to talk—he has the patience of a saint, which makes him a damn good policeman.

“We were all dancing—a big group of us. The guys came up and pulled a few shots from the floating tray for us. I was feeling pretty stellar by then anyway, but I remember the feeling of his fingers closing over my wrist—tugging me away from the dance floor. I told him I had a boyfriend, but he shrugged. It was that fucking shrug. He pulled on my wrist again, and the rest is a blur—I do remember the way it felt when my palm connected with his nose—shit! I have a bruise!” she exclaims, looking at the bright patch on the heel of her palm.

Baxter’s eyebrow rises and he scoots closer, reaching out to take her hand in his to examine her palm.

“Are you mad at me? I don’t blame you if you are.”

Baxter closes his eyes for a moment, then raises her palm to his lips, pressing gently into the bruise.

“No. I’m not mad, sweetheart.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Baxter chuckles, his lips vibrating against her palm.

“Would I be here about to cook you a big hangover breakfast in my sweats instead of my uniform if you were?”

“I feel like I’ve sullied your sacred uniform,” she says, her grin shy before splitting into one of joy. “Wait—did you say breakfast?”

“Mmhmmm.”

“You are the best boyfriend in the universe!”

“I know. And I also know you will somehow think of a way to repay me for the merciless roasting I took at the station when Mike opened his dumbass mouth.”

“I will kill him. I don’t care how big he is.”

“You’ve clearly proven what a tigress you are,” Baxter replies, his face becoming more open as he relaxes, knowing that his girlfriend really is okay after the ordeal.

“Just you wait,” she says, her headache momentarily forgotten as she darts toward the bathroom.

“I shower … you cook!”

Baxter smiles and shakes his head as he stands and makes his way back to the kitchen.

As soon as the bathroom door shuts and she flicks on the light, she remembers her hangover. Opening the medicine cabinet, she pops a few ibuprofen and scoops up some water from the running faucet. Unable to take the dirty feeling any longer, she brushes her teeth as she turns the shower on and lets it get hot.

About 20 minutes later, she emerges from her bedroom, showered, comfily dressed, and feeling mostly human, to the smell of bacon and coffee.

Baxter is pushing around eggs in her skillet as she walks over to him, bacon on the burner beside the eggs, and another skillet of potatoes sizzling on the back burner. Standing behind him, she pops her chin onto his shoulder and slides her hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You smell good,” Baxter says through a smile that she can only hear.

“So do you,” she purrs as she turns into his neck and nuzzles, enjoying the slight stubble along Baxter’s jawline that meant he had gotten ready in a rush to come and see her.

“Is that so?”

“Shut up,” she bites back playfully, her hands moving to grip his strong thighs from the inside of his pockets. “You know you smell better, look better, and are an infinitely better human than any idiot fuckboy in a club who thinks ‘I have a boyfriend’ is a challenge.”

She feels Baxter chuckle again, and as he steps slightly to the right, she pushes her hands deeper into his pockets, inadvertently exposing a strip of his stomach between his boxer-briefs and his t-shirt.

“Hey—if I get a third degree burn from bacon grease on my junk, I am going to be pissed at you.”

Laughing, she relinquishes her boyfriend and moves to pull down two mugs for coffee.

“You are so sexy, Mister Officer. I can’t help myself—as we clearly learned last night,” she banters back with a slight eyeroll at her own behavior.

“Can I ask you something?”

She puts Baxter’s coffee on the counter closest to where he’s scrambling the eggs, and then leans into the edge before replying, “Of course.”

“Why were you so shitfaced last night? I’ve seen you have a good time, but that seemed … out of character. Or maybe not? I’m just curious.”

“It’s a very legit question, Bax. And you’re right … a little out of character for me.”

Pausing, she takes a sip of her coffee. Baxter turns the burner off for the bacon and moves it from the heat. He turns the potatoes down before running his spatula through them, making sure they don’t burn. Sitting her coffee down, she moves to a cupboard to grab a plate and a few papertowels.

“Sometimes I just want to get fucked up. I wanna not worry for a night. Not overthink. Let the constant yammering in my head take a night off, ya know?”

Baxter nods and asks for two bowls for the scrambled eggs and the potatoes. She moves to the cupboard again and pulls out two white bowls, ones that are just a little bigger than the cereal bowls.

“Any particular worries?”

“Work, always.”

“I feel you on that one,” Baxter replies as he looks around for a serving spoon.

She reads his search and reaches into the drawer to pull one out.

“Toast?” he asks.

“Oh yes. I need all the carbs to quell the queasy.”

As she carries the bacon and eggs to her small in-kitchen table, she says quietly, “And you. Pretty much always.”

Baxter clicks the toaster down and turns to look at his girlfriend, his eyes narrowed and his lips a little tight.

“Me, huh?”

Chewing slightly on the skin behind her lower lip, she crosses to the toaster and leans on the counter opposite of Baxter.

“We talked about this when we first started dating, but I didn’t realize how consuming it would be. I think about the what ifs all the time. I love you. What would I do if—"

“Hey, hey,” Baxter says, cutting her off as he moves into her body, his hands coming up to cup her face.

In return, she slides her arms around his waist, her fingers moving under his t-shirt to touch the bare skin of his back.

Baxter and Y/N look at each other for a long moment before he closes the distance and kisses her, his lips forming perfectly against hers in a tender moment of genuine affection.

When Baxter pulls back, he holds her gaze as he says, “Imagine how I felt hearing that call come in for a club I knew you were at. When I saw you standing outside, I thought I was gonna be sick.”

She looks into Baxter’s eyes, and then both of them jump as the toaster pops, both of them uttering a soft giggle.

Bax presses a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling the toast out and setting it on a plate. She lines herself up behind him again and kisses between his shoulder blades over his t-shirt.

“Let’s both try to worry less.”

“I’m more concerned for any … what did you call him? Idiot fuckface?”

“Boy,” Y/N says, laughing. “Idiot fuckboy.”

“Fuckboy who tries to steal you away.”

“Never, ever gonna happen.”

“Even though I make you worry, like, all the time?”

“You’re worth it—you just may have to answer a few more what are they called? 213s?”

Baxter laughs, his teeth flashing, “Shit, sweetheart. If I had to answer a 213 for you, I think that would be the end of our relationship.”

“What’s a 213?”

“Use of illegal explosives.”

“Oh! Well, then. Nevermind. What’s the whatever I was code?”

“You came in as a 415 and a probable 390.”

“Oooh two codes! Yay me!”

Baxter is still smiling as he sits down catty-corner from his girlfriend.

“A drunken disturbance—pretty typical for a club call. Sorry to disappoint.”

After scooping half of the scrambled eggs onto her plate, she looks at Baxter with sincerity and says, “Thank you for not arresting me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong—technically.”

“I’m still thankful.”

“And you’re still gonna repay me,” Baxter says, his voice low and his eye shutting with an exaggerated wink.

Laughing, she shakes her head as she takes a big bite of eggs and reaches for the bacon.

“I’m more inclined to fuck you into next week for making this amazing breakfast.”

Baxter’s lips pull down in an exaggerated frown as he shrugs before declaring, “Or we could read this as two separate thank-yous from the tigress. She can feel free to make an appearance whenever she likes.”

“As if I need a reason, Bax.”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Baxter clears his throat, grinning as he tucks into his breakfast.

Conversation flows easily between the two of them, and soon enough, both are leaning back in their chairs, sipping the last dregs of their coffee.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Mostly cured, I believe,” his girlfriend says from over the rim over her mug.

“You going to the gym?”

Baxter shrugs, his fingers drumming on the table.

“In that case,” she says, standing up slowly from her chair, “I think we oughta treat ourselves to a lazy day … in bed.”

“I like … the sound of that,” Baxter replies slowly, taking his girlfriend’s proffered hand. “I did have a really long night. Some drunk broad came on to me while I was arresting her.”

She spins around, feigning offense, and Baxter laughs, his hands whipping to her sides to tickle her. She bats at him and speeds down the hallway to her bedroom, pausing to turn only to be met with a body full of her boyfriend as he tackles her onto the bed.

Still laughing, they look at each other for a moment as their smiles quietly slip into an intense kiss. They both taste like coffee and bacon, their shared meal a reminder of their shared lives.

Baxter settles between her legs, his growing hardness evident through the forgiving material of his sweatpants.

She is dressed only in sleep shorts and a thin t-shirt, so when she pushes her hips into his, she moans at the friction when he bucks back into her.

Baxter’s lips kiss at her chin before he nudges her jaw up by tangling one strong hand in her hair and pulling.

Her lips part with a silent sigh as he kisses down her neck, soft, slow, long kisses where he presses the whole of his full lips against her skin before moving down a fraction to repeat the action. The feeling of his lips on her skin has always driven her wild and today is no exception.

She knows she’s already wet, but she doesn’t want to be needy for him. She keeps thinking back to Baxter’s banter in the kitchen and wondering if it really did hide an insecurity: perhaps he needs some reassurance that he is the sexiest man she has ever been with, that no “model” will ever turn her head when she knows she is coming home to Baxter. Her drunken teasing last night outside of the club meant nothing; she was out of her mind.

But right now—right now, she is here and more than willing to show him how important he is to her.

With a growl, she pushes at Baxter’s shoulders causing him to look up with heavy, confused eyes. With every ounce of lust she feels, she flips Baxter over and straddles him, thrusting her hands in his hair and mimicking his earlier tug of her own head.

“I want you.”

Pulling even tighter on his thick curls, she flattens along his body and starts to nip along his jaw, the stubble chaffing her lips and scratching against her teeth as she mouths at him before moving down his neck.

She licks along the strong muscle and settles into the indentation between the muscle and his windpipe to suck at little patches of skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for Baxter to shiver as he wonders if it will.

She works her way down to the exposed skin at the neck of his t-shirt, pulling on the fabric with her teeth before sitting up so she can maneuver him out of it.

Baxter lays back slowly, propped on his elbows as his girlfriend swirls her hips against his bulge. His mouth falls open and a sigh escapes as she pushes him down again.

He’s fit; his lean muscles standing out enough to make her lick her lips in appreciation and run her hands over his pecs, kneading them before lightly pinching his nipples into stiff peaks. He’s sensitive, everywhere, which always makes their time in the bedroom all the more satisfying.

She flattens her body along his again, his cock now pressing into her stomach as she leans down to kiss across his chest, moving to his right nipple to pinch it between her teeth.

Bax moans and reaches to run his fingers through her hair, pushing it out of the way so he can see her lips on his skin.

Flicking her tongue, she plays with his nipple before moving to the left one to repeat her ministrations, her right hand back to kneading that strong muscle before sliding up to his shoulder and back again.

He has soft skin, mottled with freckles that make her want to kiss them all every time she sees them and a thin smattering of hair on his chest that scratches lightly against her lips as she continues to kiss his chest before following his happy trail to his stomach.

Humming in the back of her throat with pleasure, her tongue swirling through the trail of softer hair, Baxter can barely control his hips. They are desperately trying to rut against her body, and she has a strong feeling he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

Sitting up slightly, she places her hands on his hips and pushes down.

“Behave for me or you’ll spoil all the fun.”

Baxter looks down, his face the perfect picture of debauchery: cheeks flushed, eyes heavy, and indentations on his bottom lip where he’s been biting.

He blinks, long and slow as if coming out of a fog, then huffs out a tiny laugh, his hands moving up to run through his hair before settling behind his head.

Her eyes trail over the way his biceps flex and she can’t help but reach into the course hairs of his underarms, scratching just enough to make him twitch before she smirks and returns her hands to his stomach.

Moving her body lower, she’s straddling his lower thighs now, Baxter’s thick cock clearly visible beneath the grey fabric, and at this point, she’s barely able to stop herself from stripping and mounting him on the spot.

But she wants him to know how much she needs him and from this angle, he can watch her face, also flushed with swollen lips from kissing his torso, fill with an unabashed desire as she grasps the bulge of his dick.

Slowly, she squeezes, not quite wrapping her hand all the way around his covered length, but pressing into him and sliding upward, jerking him off in the most teasing manner she can manage until a spot of precum leaks through his underwear and stains the grey of his sweats an even darker grey.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re killing me,” Baxter mumbles as his big blue eyes are flicking between her hand and her face, almost begging but not quite.

She takes hold of the waistband of his sweats and works them over his hips, Baxter lifting his ass off the mattress to help.

They repeat the process for his underwear, but she scoots down the bed to tug his clothes off. After pulling his socks off, too, she scratches her nails along the bottoms of his feet, making him jerk again, his face grinning as she pinches the big toe on each foot.

“So sensitive,” she breathes, her voice sultry.

She runs her fingers through the thick but soft curls of his leg hair, sliding them up and over his knees, slowing down only to push his thighs apart so his entire package is on display.

He’s so pretty, perfectly proportioned, and she reaches out with both hands to lightly grasp each testicle. She plays with the soft skin and watches Baxter’s cock jump as she applies more pressure, switching his balls to one hand so she can give them a good squeeze.

She takes the base of his dick in her other hand and very lightly begins to stroke him, once again watching the way her boyfriend responds to her touch and feeling the ache in her pussy which has become so pronounced that it feels like its throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

Sliding the thumb of her hand that was playing with his balls beneath them, she presses her thumb into his perineum and begins to move in firm, tiny circles, massaging him until his thighs are twitching and his chest’s rise and fall quickens.

She bends over now to take the tip of Baxter’s cock in her mouth, licking the precum from his slit first before closing over his head and lightly sucking. She slides her mouth over him, taking as much of his shaft as she can until Baxter begins to breathlessly plead.

“Stop—stop. I want to come inside your pussy.”

As if she couldn’t get wetter, the way Baxter’s mouth moves as he pleads sends a fresh wave of arousal to her center.

“Ride me, please. Wanna watch you.”

With a quiet groan at his words, she slides off the bed and strips out of her clothes. Baxter’s head turns to watch and he licks his lips before pulling on his worn, bottom lip, doing that thing that always makes her feel like a teenager again, crushing on the cutest boy she’d ever seen.  

Baxter shifts on the bed, adding another pillow behind him so he’s sitting up a bit more as his girlfriend straddles his hips. Still holding herself over him, she reaches between her legs and slides her fingers through her slickness.

Holding them up, coated in the evidence of her arousal, she murmurs, “Look at what you do to me, Bax,” before slipping them into her mouth.

“Kiss me,” he says, his eyes trained on her lips as she removes her fingers, the intensity of his gaze a bare beacon of his desire to taste her.

Leaning forward, she braces her palm on his chest as she kisses him, and with her other hand, she maneuvers his dick to her entrance, sliding down onto him, pulling his groan of satisfaction into her own mouth as she deepens the kiss.

“You feel so good,” she groans out as she breaks the kiss and stills her hips so she can just bask in the sensation of being filled up by the gorgeous man underneath her.

“So fucking good,” he answers.

After grabbing onto a fist full of dark curls and tilting his face up, she gives him a wicked smile as she starts to move, rising up and falling down at a teasingly slow pace.

She loves the feeling of control, but what she really loves is watching the way Baxter’s mouth falls open as he pants out his pleasure, his hands sliding over her hips and reaching up to grasp her breasts. He pulls on her nipples before he lets his hands fall to her hips again, silently encouraging her to bounce on his cock before asking again.

“Fuck me. Show me how much you want me.”  

All teasing is dispatched with as the room fills with the sounds of their pants and moans, both of them lost in the bliss of good sex between people who know what their partner likes and what their partner needs.

Her clit is swollen, aching for his touch and as he nears his orgasm she waits, patient, wanting him to come inside of her, wanting him to get lost in his own pleasure.

Baxter’s hand slides around and tries to touch her, but she grasps both of his hands and brings them to her breasts, squeezing them with him as she grinds into him, swirling her hips before rising and falling, repeating the motion until she can tell he’s about to come because his chest is red and when she steadies herself with one hand over his heart, she can feel it beating hard.

His hips buck up erratically into hers as his lips purse with an exhaled breath and he begins to groan, his face twisted into a magnificent ecstasy as he lets go, his hot cum shooting thickly all over her inner walls, the feeling something she would struggle to explain but nonetheless it’s a feeling that causes her eyes to close at the intimacy of it.

His heartbeat is slowing as she opens her eyes, unable to stop her smug grin at the way she’s left him damn-near cross-eyed after coming for her, but as he begins to wiggle out of her body, it’s clear he knows she needs him, really needs him, so Baxter pulls her to him as he flips her onto her back and quickly moves to between her thighs.

He admires his handywork for a moment, his thick fingers playing in their mixed arousal before he latches onto her clit and sucks. He glances up and her head is thrown back as her hands grasp her breasts; she looks like a goddess to Baxter as she pulls on her nipples and bites her lip, finally giving herself over to his mouth.

He releases the pressure and flicks his tongue rapidly over her clit before sucking again, this time, his suction pulling out her orgasm in a near-violent wave of release as his name echoes off the walls of her bedroom.

Baxter licks lightly at her clit, coaxing her down until her thighs press against his face, signaling him to stop. He presses a kiss to her mound, then to her stomach, right beneath her belly button before he presses a final kiss to her sternum and lays flat, his head nestled between her breasts.

She reaches down and swipes at the sweat along his hairline, running her hands gently through his hair.

“Mmm. Mmhmm,” Baxter sounds, and she can see his eyes are closed, his dark lashes resting prettily along the skin beneath his eyes.

“I think that was the best cure for a hangover I’ve ever had.”

“Not the bacon? Or potatoes?” he mumbles.

“No—definitely just you. You are the ultimate cure for a hangover.”

“Box me up and sell me. We’ll never have to work again.”

“Like I would ever fucking share that with any other human on earth. You’re mine, Officer Cutie Pants.”

Baxter laughs, his breath a warm puff across her skin. He twists his position, his chin now resting on her chest so he can smile at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’ll be only yours as long as you’ll be only mine.”  

“Hmm,” she replies, pressing her lips together in mock-thought. “I think forever sounds like a good amount of time.”

“Forever it is,” Baxter answers, pushing up to lean over her face, his kiss full of a gentle, loving warmth.  

* * * * *

Our fancy bean never wears sweats, so this is all I’ve got for reference material:

Special thanks to @sherlollydramoine for nurturing my muse at 2 am 💞 

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​ @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses @rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512​ @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r @breadnbutternips

[satonthelotuspier]

I'm seeing prompts on your site and does that mean you are accepting them right now? I've never requested a prompt before and I don't know what to do? But if I'm doing it right I'd really like to see 13 for XueXiao from the bodyguard au prompt list? Fluffy or angsty, as you please. Am I doing this right?

OK so Im being obvious, but this contains XueXiao.

Modern Bodyguard AU so none of the complications of canon apply.

Now the disclaimers are out of the way, I have to apologise to the very patient @amaskinamirror bc this took so much longer to write than I expected. The reason being most of my prompt fics end up around the 1k-1.4k word mark and this kept going and kept going because there was a story there. It came in around the 4.5k work mark. Think of it as added value, unless you hate it in which case it’s not ;)

Pompts from this post here

Part 2 now available here

Xue Yang is the enfant terrible of the music world and his manager has pretty much had enough of his shitty behaviour. Features a thorny Xue Yang shaped by the worlds opinions of him, and a hardass yet caring Xiao Xingchen who maybe might just start to see beyond the lies.

Possible triggers/warnings: Also features swearing, man-handling, use of a date rape drug, minor injury and blood. Luckily XXC is there to save the day in all situations.

Xue Yang was woken up from a deep, no doubt alcohol-induced, sleep to the feeling of cold water being splashed in his face.

He shot upright coughing and spluttering and wiping water out of his eyes, trying to process what the hell had happened. The unconscious bodies around him all started to stir and groan back to lucidity.

Xue Yang followed the long line of the leg in front of him up to eventually meet a pair of dark eyes staring down at him without expression.

“What the fuck?” he demanded and tried to get up but someone he didn’t even remember the name of was laid across his legs.

It had been another party. One where they’d drunk hard and passed out before dawn some time; he didn’t know half the people here. That had never stopped him. Being the enfant terrible of the music industry took both time, effort and commitment.

The tall man bent down to extricate him, then yanked him to his feet.

“You have rehearsals in ninety minutes. Get showered, you smell like a brewery” a garment bag was pushed into his hands then he was waved in the direction of the hotel suite’s bathroom.

“Excuse me, but just who the fuck are you?” honestly his head felt a little woolly still from the after-effect of the alcohol he’d been drinking, but he was sure he didn’t know who this man was or what he was doing in his hotel suite.

“Your Fairy Godmother, Cinderella, now go get a shower, you’re wasting time”

Xue Yang grabbed hold of the collar of his jacket, “Don’t bullshit me”

The hand that clamped around his wrist was steel-like, “Your new security. Your manager sends his regards. I won’t tell you to go and shower again”

“Firstly, if you are security you are not my boss, so you can stop with the ordering me around like I’m your little bitch, secondly, you are my security? I’m sure if a duckling gets too close you’ll do a great job, otherwise…” he was going to push the other away, sure because of his willowy frame it would be easy. Quite how he ended up in an armlock and being dragged to the bathroom he didn’t know. He bit his tongue to stifle the cry of pain; no way would he utter the noise aloud. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarled as the other kept going into the bathroom.

“I’ve already explained. I’m not going to repeat myself” the man opened the shower door, pushed Xue Yang into the cubicle and pushed the on button.

Of course Xue Yang never learned his lesson; he launched himself at the other only to bounce off the cubicle door as the other shut it behind him, holding it closed.

“New world order, xiao-Xue, get used to being my little bitch” the other grinned as Xue Yang punched the glass then yelled at the pain in his hand, “Clean up, I don’t want to be forced to come in there and clean you up myself”

***

Xue Yang curled himself up as small as possible on the back seat of the car; he was in high sulk. After calling his manager to demand an explanation of what was going on Jin Guangyao had told him in no uncertain terms he’d better get used to the idea of Xiao Xingchen being around. His new security was not only there to provide for his personal safety after a spate of disturbing mail (more disturbing than the usual run of the mill threats at least), but to whip him into some kind of shape as Jin Guangyao was convinced his terrible behaviour, bad reputation and general personality was about to lose them some very large contracts.

Everyone loved a bad boy in theory, but when it began to affect his ability to make his management company money then they were definitely going to act to protect their asset.

And that had come in the form of Xiao Xingchen, who looked as gentle and fragile as an orchid but who had already handed Xue Yang his ass once today already.

“A-Qing, I need breakfast” Xue Yang whined at his assistant as his stomach rumbled for the fourth time.

“You shouldn’t have upset the new bodyguard then” she mocked him quietly, and he retreated even more, pulling the hood of his jacket up and wrapping his arms around his knees as A-Qing took pity on him and leaned forward to ask the driver to stop at a nearby coffee shop.

They did, and A-Qing and the driver returned with coffees for all and a bag full of muffins.

Lao-Xia, the driver, and A-Qing had been with Xue Yang long enough to not meet his gaze as they started on their own food; Xiao Xingchen had no such warning; he was too busy goggling at Xue Yang who had made his own muffin disappear like a magician with a rabbit.

“Are you going to eat that?” Xue Yang asked, pointing at the baked bun in Xiao Xingchen’s hand.

He simply offered it over; perhaps surprised at the demonstration of the speed at which a muffin could be demolished without trace.

The second one followed the first in quick order and Xue Yang froze as the other reached  over to brush the crumbs that had stuck to the corner of his mouth away with a thumb.

“You don’t want the Paparazzi to catch that” he said simply before turning in his seat to look out of the windscreen and sip at his coffee.

Xue Yang curled back in on himself and held his ridiculously sweet iced coffee to his chest.

“You eat too much sugar” Xiao Xingchen told him as Lao-Xia started the car and set off driving to the studio, “You need something to give you energy for the first meal of the day”

“Good luck with that, he functions on pure sugar and supplements” A-Qing mocked and Xue Yang shot her an annoyed look.

***

Xue Yang didn’t know why he was surprised the next morning when he was awoken by a solid shake to the shoulder.

He hadn’t been able to avoid the other to sneak off to party last night so he wasn’t hung over but that didn’t mean he was any more amenable to the idea of waking up.

“Come on Sleeping Beauty, you have to be at your first interview in an hour”

Interviews. His mortal enemy. The thing he hated most in the world. And he was still no better at dealing with them than he had been as a fresh face on the music scene, where the press had crucified him, thrown every painful fact of his past in his face and then painted him as a troubled bad boy with a temper; a role he’d eventually just given up fighting against and embraced.

He threw the blankets over his head; maybe if he just went back to sleep the interview would disappear.

The blankets were thrown back.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he demanded, was he allowed no privacy at all anymore?

“Get up” Xiao Xingchen jerked his head towards the bathroom.

“Fuck off. I’m not going” he reached out to push the other away.

It went about as well as yesterday had for him; he ended up face down on the bed with his arm locked up between his shoulder blades.

“Are you going to learn any time soon? I mean, kudos for persistence but lose points for stupidity. Now, last chance to get up on your own, otherwise I’ll throw you over my shoulder and you can go dressed like that”

Xue Yang wasn’t sure he believed the other was strong enough to actually carry him out of the hotel room, but he daren’t take the chance he might be dragged out kicking and screaming and dressed in his ratty old t-shirt and shorts.

“Fine, yes, I’m getting up. Let me go, please” as a street child he’d learned to beg prettily and it wasn’t a skill he was averse to using if he needed to, to survive. It didn’t need to be sincere, it just needed to sound it, to be calculated to pull on the other’s heart strings.

It didn’t seem to affect Xiao Xingchen, but he was released nonetheless.

***

Xue Yang of course arrived on time for his first interview, (there were three in total scheduled for today), as far as they went it wasn’t particularly gruelling for him, but he was fully aware he was a mess by the end of it; he’d probably come across like he was on drugs, but it wasn’t like that would be the first, second or third time the rumour would circulate in relation to him.

He knew Xiao Xingchen eyed him in consideration, but he ignored it; he didn’t have the presence of mind to survive the next two interviews and worry about what his new security agent was judging him for today.

He was much worse by the end of the second; he had been left alone a sitting room of the hotel the interview’s had been arranged at and he lowered his head into his hands, trying to even out his breathing and calm himself. His professionalism would be questioned even further if he failed to complete the last interview, or screwed up during it.

He felt the couch dip next to him, “Here” he looked up, poison on his tongue ready to be spit at Xiao Xingchen when he realised the other held out one of those large chocolate chip cookies in a napkin. There was also iced coffee sat on the table in front of him.

“Just relax, empty your head, and focus on the cookie” Xiao Xingchen informed him; raising an eyebrow as Xue Yang didn’t immediately accept the confectionery from him.

He took it with tentative thanks; and it vanished almost immediately once he’d decided to accept the gesture. Once he’d gotten the sugary coffee inside him too he felt much better.

***

Despite his trash reputation he wasn’t late for a single appointment over the next weeks; Jin Guangyao assured him it was perfectly alright to project the rebel for the masses but when you played the brat with the people in the business you’d soon be blacklisted; a risk he wasn’t willing to take with Xue Yang.

Xue Yang hadn’t managed to get near alcohol or a party in that time due to Xiao Xingchen’s hawk eyes and iron control.

Since the second morning though instead of being woken up with a bucket of water to the face or bickering the other had started showing up with a sweet pastry and a staggeringly sugary iced coffee which he traded off for Xue Yang eating better at other mealtimes.

Overall it didn’t seem Xue Yang had a moment of time where the other wasn’t somewhere close, controlling everything, keeping a watchful eye out.

And it bothered Xue Yang; he didn’t get used to the feeling of Xiao Xingchen being there like he’d been assured he would. He was still hyper aware of him, and he didn’t necessarily think it was because he was intimidated, despite the fact they’d had a few more altercations, none of which ended well for Xue Yang.

***

He tried to ditch his new security for his monthly visit to the orphanage his charity had built and ran; the less people who knew about it the better. Of course he couldn’t shake the other off so he had to attend followed by Xiao Xingchen, and explain to the children who the tall ge was. He was a great hit with them, and although Xue Yang pretended to be annoyed at Xiao Xingchen getting all the attention that the youngsters usually showered on him secretly he was entertained as he watched the other romp with the rough kids, or play softly with the quieter ones.

“This is the first time you’ve brought a bodyguard” he turned slightly at the sound of Tian Ying, the matron of the orphanage and the woman who’d helped bring him up in a similar institution when he had been a boy had come up beside him. “Are you in danger, xiao-Xue?”

“Of course not” he didn’t consider the crazy mail Jin Guangyao was filtering from him any more of a threat than any of the other mail he’d received in the last few years, and he definitely didn’t want her to worry about him, “They just decided I needed someone to carry my bags for me”

He didn’t have time to say much more as he was dragged into an impromptu game of football in the yard, where he and Xiao Xingchen were on opposite teams.

They played around half-heartedly until a Xiao Xingchen who was grace incarnate except apparently on a football pitch, stuck his foot out and took Xue Yang’s feet from under him and he tumbled. The fall itself wasn’t bad but he was a little grazed as they played on the yard and not grass.

Xiao Xingchen was unusually all apologies and personally saw to tending the grazes Xue Yang’s tumble had caused, despite his assurances he was absolutely fine. The touch of the other still made his pulse flutter in some odd emotion and the way Xiao Xingchen kept glancing up at him, like he’d discovered a rare and new species, was disconcerting. And pissed him off, because he could guess what it was about.

“Just don’t” he said through his teeth so no one around them could hear.

“Don’t what? Congratulate you on what you’ve built here? On what you’re doing for these kids?”

“Yes, don’t. I don’t want to hear it” he sucked a breath in at the sting of the antiseptic where Xiao Xingchen applied it to his grazes.

“Alright, whatever you want” Xiao Xingchen let it drop but he still looked at Xue Yang with something approaching admiration in his eyes.

And it was addictive, to have someone look at him like that, and not like he was trash. But then it had never bothered him before. Was it purely because it was Xiao Xingchen and he wanted to be more than trash in that man’s eyes?

“I guess you read too many gossip rags” Xue Yang sniped, “I’m not on drugs, in any weird cults, or a complete slut either”

Instead of bullshitting him and denying he’d thought anything of the kind Xiao Xingchen agreed instead, “I’m beginning to see that. Of course that doesn’t mean you don’t have a vile temper, that you don’t ever learn your lessons, or that you don’t sulk like a baby when I tell you no”

He was about to make one of his usual responses when the game of football moved closer and he clamped his lips closed on the curse.

There was a knowing, teasing look in the other’s eyes and as Xue Yang looked down into that finely-boned face he realised why the other’s good opinion had meant so much to him; why he was on tenterhooks whenever Xiao Xingchen was near, which was all the time at the moment, and why his pulse fluttered like his veins were full of butterflies whenever the other touched him. He was in love with Xiao Xingchen.

Well fuck.

***

Xue Yang paced around his hotel bedroom, feeling like a caged tiger. He wanted to destroy something. No, he really wanted a stiff drink.

Was he a masochist? What had made him fall in love with a man who knocked him around for fun? No of course that was unfair, Xiao Xingchen only ever restrained him and only when Xue Yang attacked first. Still, it must definitely be masochism.

Or Stockholm Syndrome; he had been at the mercy of the other, a virtual prisoner, for weeks now.

“I need a drink” he exclaimed aloud; and so he formulated a plan.

He took a quick shower and changed into something black and sexy and flashy, then he he called reception and asked for a taxi cab, and that they ring up to let him know when it had arrived.

He waited by his bedroom door, peeping through the tiniest opening for the phone to ring back; and as Xiao Xingchen got up from the couch to answer it he dashed out and past as silently as possible to give himself as much of a head-start as he could manage.

The doors of the elevator were closing just as he saw Xiao Xingchen enter the hallway and yell at him in rage.

He was in the taxi and away; his freedom all the sweeter for being carefully wrought.

***

Xue Yang was beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed and he was chatting quite happily with the guy who stood next to him at the bar of the VIP lounge. He’d been greeted by the usual crowd who hadn’t seen him around for the weeks he’d been kept prisoner, (OK maybe that was a little dramatic), but he’d never seen this guy before and new people were interesting.

Although he was beginning to get uncomfortable at how the other stared at him intently after he’d finished his drink.

He excused himself to “visit the bathroom” when life finally caught up with him. Life of course being Xiao Xingchen.

He pushed Xue Yang up against the wall of the corridor to the bathrooms, which was surprisingly currently empty.

“Hey” Xue Yang protested, although with alcohol relaxing his muscles it hadn’t really hurt as he hadn’t tensed for impact. Actually being pinned against the wall by the man you’d fallen in love with was quite nice. He had zero experience, bar some awkward kisses with a girl who’d known as little as him when he was younger, but apparently being manhandled was beginning to be something he enjoyed. Maybe because it was Xiao Xingchen though.

“I’d advise you to keep really quiet, I’m this close to spanking the living hell out of you” and really he’d never seen Xiao Xingchen’s deceptively delicate face so twisted in anger.

But of course alcohol impaired one’s judgement; to dangerous levels sometimes.

“Is that what you like?” he asked.

“What?” Xiao Xingchen was confused, his hand tightened on Xue Yang’s collar as if he suspected the other was planning something.

“Spanking, do you get off on it?”

“You really have no fucking self-preservation instincts do you?” Xiao Xingchen demanded and if Xue Yang hadn’t been so muddled due to the reaction of his body to the other, and the alcohol humming through his bloodstream he might have realised how much trouble he was in; he had never heard the other curse before in all their weeks together.

Instead he gave in to the urge pounding at the base of his brain, unable to control it anymore. He threw his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s neck and kissed him.

Well, it was clumsy and unskilled, but it probably still counted as a kiss.

He was pushed back against the wall unceremoniously, “What do you think you’re doing? You are my client. You are drunk. You are so out of line right now”

Of course he hadn’t really expected a different response. He somehow managed to pull himself free and stumbled back out into the VIP lounge.

Actually he seemed to be more drunk than he’d realised. He was suddenly barely able to control his body and he felt like his head was full of cotton wool. A hand touched his back, “Oh, you look terrible. Do you need to lie down? Should we get you out of here?” he was vaguely aware the voice wasn’t Xiao Xingchen’s, it belonged to the guy he’d been talking to at the bar, as he was guided towards the door but he really did need to lie down right now. He was about to nod his agreement when the supporting hand was violently removed.

“What the fuck did you give him?” that was Xiao Xingchen, although he couldn’t work out what the question meant. He felt the iron-grip of his security’s hand and he was pulled close to the other; he recognised the familiar scent of his aftershave and it set his mind at rest.

***

It had been days since the nightclub incident; and he’d managed to act completely clueless about the entire evening. In honesty there were huge swathes of Xue Yang’s memory that were completely blank, but he was cursed with vague recollection of him kissing Xiao Xingchen.

He wanted to die from embarrassment. He wanted to mope around at the rejection. He had to pretend like he was completely clueless about everything that happened though and let the other just write it off as a side effect of the Flunitrazepam the random guy at the nightclub had put in his drink.

He had been in touch with Jin Guangyao and begged the other to find him new security. He couldn’t carry on being around Xiao Xingchen all the time, feeling like he did, and scared to death he’d do something stupid to reveal his feelings in a way that couldn’t be pretended away like that stupid kiss.

He had faithfully promised he’d keep up the good behaviour Xiao Xingchen had bullied into him so long as Jin Guangyao replaced him with someone who wouldn’t cause Xue Yang such pain to have close.

His manager had promised to at least look into it.

Xue Yang didn’t realise he’d been wool-gathering in his head and managed to separate slightly from Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing until he saw a face in the crowd that made him uncomfortable.

He didn’t recognise the man but the fear that skittered down his spine was very real; he turned to try and get closer to Xiao Xingchen who called his name and dashed over; the flash he caught from the corner of his eye had him raising his arm in self-protection. He was dragged out of the way and thrown to the floor, catching nothing but a glancing blow as Xiao Xingchen took out the threat.

It was all very chaotic after that as the crowd helped keep the attacker captive until the police could arrive, and ambulance was also called as both he and Xiao Xingchen had taken knife wounds.

His was a cut to the arm that didn’t particularly bother him, it was the wound on Xiao Xingchen’s side that scared the life out of him. He used his folded jacket to keep pressure on the injury.

A-Qing fluttered around trying to get him to let someone else take over so they could do the same for his arm but he just waved her off; it was nothing.

“You really have no fucking self-preservation instincts” Xiao Xingchen told him in annoyance; luckily he seemed fully conscious at the moment.

“I know. I‘m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be better from now on” he felt close to tears but fought them back brutally.

Xiao Xingchen nodded at what he said and looked into his eyes, “At least you’ll get your new bodyguard now, silver linings right?” he reached out with his left hand to thumb away one of the tears that Xue Yang hadn’t realised had escaped.

Fucking Jin Guangyao and his stupid big mouth.

“It’s for the best, xiao-Xue, in light of everything”

Which meant Xiao Xingchen was aware of his feelings and agreed the best way to deal with it was to move on. Well there went his dignity.

“You’re too precious for this cruel world in the limelight, anyway” Xue Yang tried to mock, his voice a little strangled.

“Which of us do you mean?” Xiao Xingchen asked and it was both an arrow to his heart and salve to his ego to hear such an opinion from the other.

He was glad when the paramedics had arrived and he was shuffled away to have his own wound dealt with so he could save some face. If the paramedic thought the tears were a reaction to the pain or shock of being attacked then good.

They were taken to a nearby hospital to be treated. Xue Yang’s cut needed a few stitches so he was ready to be sent away reasonably quickly, but he stayed in the waiting room until A-Qing came back to report Xiao Xingchen was fine, he’d be kept in for a few days as his would was deeper and nastier but he was stable and in no danger.

“Aren’t you going to visit before we go?” she asked, but he shook his head. And honestly she was smart enough that she probably knew what was going on and why he didn’t want to impose on the other. “Alright, lets get you back to the hotel. I think Jin Guangyao will be waiting, unfortunately, I can’t do anything to put him off this time”

Xue Yang sighed and accepted his fate.

One Month Later

The stage lights faded for the last time and he was finally able to slip offstage. He was lathered with sweat and completely exhausted. Xue Yang’s knife wound hadn’t been particularly deep or damaging but it was surprising how much it had knocked him down. He still tired out so much more easily than he was used to, but he hadn’t wanted to put this concert off, preferring to get it out of the way so he could take a holiday for a couple of weeks and use it to think about the next steps in his career, and indeed life, with nothing hanging over his head.

The man who had attacked them had been the same who had drugged his drink in the nightclub, although due to the effects Xue Yang couldn’t identify him; it had been lucky his subconscious had reacted to the man though, or it could have been so much worse.

He accepted the towel A-Qing held out for him as he met his entourage in the back stage passages and dried off, pulling on the coat she had also brought him.

There was an oddly smug look on her face and he questioned her.

“Nothing, just something funny is all” she refused to be drawn on what caused her to smile so.

They made it back to the dressing rooms and he was bundled inside.

He wondered, uncharitably, if she was on drugs.

“No rush, your car won’t be here for quite some time yet” A-Qing told him as she shut the door behind him and he turned to find his street clothes. Except he wasn’t alone.

Oh.

Suddenly he daren’t move from the doorway, not sure whether to tear it open and flee or move into the room and act like he wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

In the end he compromised, did nothing and stayed exactly where he was.

“Why are you here?” he tried to keep his voice steady, and luckily it didn’t shake too much.

“Why do you think?” Xiao Xingchen asked him.

[hes-writer]

A Cheat IV

How about when y/n is engaged with her boyfriend and how happy she is with her life but harry is still miserable. He misses her so much that he begs her to take him back, like literally begging. He tells her that he’ll do anything bc it hurts him to see her getting married with someone else. But y/n isn’t having any of it so she tells him “you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now i finally found my happiness again, you’re going to take that away from me too?”

Summary: Harry cheats, Y/N is happy

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.6k

“That’s what I hoped and gee thanks, have fun with yours too if you ever get over me,”  Harry smirk at her menacingly.

She rolls her eyes, burning from the tears she held back. She remains strong.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things have been going for her. In the past eight months after her and Harry’s horrid conclusion to their relationship, Y/N had finally graduated from university after four grueling years of late nights and caffeine coursing through her system. She had gotten a puppy—something that she’d always wanted, but never took the initiative to get one. After tossing her cap in the air during the ceremony with Alan beside her, she was offered a job at a well-known law firm only a few weeks after. Everything is going great.

Not a few days ago, Alan had proposed to her and the engagement ring on her pinky finger was proof of a powering relationship, glimmering against the light of her wooden work desk serving as a backdrop. She smiles to herself, thinking how things finally turned around for her. One of her coworkers passes by, noticing the jewelry adorning her finger and stops to eye her suspiciously, a smile stretching over her face before squealing as Y/N nods shyly. She congratulates Y/N before walking away to her own table.

Y/N’s phone ‘dings’.

Alan

“hey babe, im cooking dinner tonight

what do u want? :))))”

She sighs with satisfaction, having someone supporting her through everything made her feel wanted. Alan is the perfect match for her. Regardless of dating for only six months (they've known each other since high school), he’s been a sturdy shoulder to lean on during the past two where she altered between crying over Harry or being a strong, independent woman that has had enough of being treated like shit. When he asked her out, granted a bit timidly since he wasn’t exactly sure if she was ready to move on, she hesitated but she trusts Alan. She also told herself that not all men are like Harry.

-----

Irene and Harry’s relationship didn’t last long after Y/N caught them in the bathroom. Actually, it ended not too long after. Since Harry’s attention was focused solely on her, Irene took advantage of that and asked him to purchase her a bunch of things that she ‘probably didn’t need’, Harry thinks. I mean, did she honestly need four of the same bags in different colours? Or having Harry book five-star restaurants around the city to celebrate Irene's friend's brother-in-laws birthday? Ridiculous. The price didn’t bother him as he had enough money to buy an island, but hearing her talk his ear off about a new Versace handbag or the recent fall line of Jimmy Choo heels that she just had to get her hands on; he’s had enough. Before officially officially splitting from Y/N, Irene had asked him to buy her stuff, sure, but it used to be minute things like a new perfume or some brand-name makeup. But now, it’s as if she thought her name was titled to Harry’s earnings, threatening to break up with him if he didn’t comply.

At first, he gave in to everything, mistaking the fear of Irene leaving him as something he was deathly afraid of. But now, realizing that the feelings he held for were nothing but sexual infatuation, something exciting and thrilling in his life. Now that he had nothing to hide, his life was giving an off vibe–yearning for Y/N’s presence. Yes, Harry missed Y/N.

He first felt a twinge in his heart in that bathroom, slowly but surely, it kept coming back stronger and more frequently. It happened especially before bed, when Y/N would usually speak to him about her day or ask him about his, or even caress him with gentle touches to calm him before sleeping, he misses her gestures that he only thought of as pestering and nagging during the last few months, but really it was nothing more than actions of love and concern. Irene never gave him a second glance, she cuddled into his chest, manicured razor sharp nails scratching his chest as if to be done as a calming notion, but Harry feels it as a burning sensation that urged him to shift uncomfortably from the woman beside him.

Irene was different from Y/N, stating the obvious. Y/N cleaned the house routinely, cooked the most flavourful dishes, and stocked the kitchen and bathroom with supplies efficiently. Harry believes in splitting the workload and chores between people who lived in the house –which was both of them– but Y/N took special charge in the household activities, saying that Harry needs his rest after being busy the whole day. He feels like a jerk sometimes knowing that she was stressed too, yet she continues to work harder than anyone he’d ever met. Besides that, his comparison was that Irene was rather unforgiving with chores. She’d requested many times that Harry hire someone else to do the work for them, she didn’t even live with him! Saying that her nails were too expensive or that her hands were too precious to handle the pressure of cleaning anything in the house. And when Harry did hire someone, she looked down on the helper as if she had the right to do so. Harry powered through her attitude for the good—recently mediocre— sex and the company.

As things got worse, he didn’t know how much more of Irene he can handle. When he received the news that she was cheating on him with her boss, he snapped. He spoke to that guy in person about giving Irene a promotion and this was how they repaid him. Frankly, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought; it didn't hurt as much as his break up with Y/N. He was relieved that she wasn’t going to be around anymore. But all things have an equal and opposite reaction because now, Harry felt extra lonely.

The slight twinge in his heart built into something grander when he was left alone with his own thoughts. Replaying his memories with Y/N trying to see where it went wrong. And at that moment, Harry realizes that it was all his fault. He was the reason why they drifted, he was the reason why she packed her things and left their house with nothing but a few stacks of bills in her hands to last for a few months because he’d essentially kicked her out of his life. What was he thinking?

-----

Y/N was on her lunch break for the day, deciding to grab food at the cafe a few blocks from the firm. She was hastily carrying herself through crowds of people with somewhere to go. Once she arrived, she stands behind a lengthy line of customers waiting to state their order to the cashier. Although Y/N rarely strays from getting her regular items, she scans the menu briefly anyway.

Her turn comes, ordering and paying for her food, she was asked to wait on the left side. The main entrance bell chimes, indicating that someone new had either left or entered the café.

Harry walks in with his grandpa hat covering much of his hair and he hopes that it's doing a good job at disguising his face. His hands held tight in his pockets as his lanky legs move him to the line-up. He did not need to look at the menu since he always gets his coffee black. Instead, his eyes scan the area, looking for watchful eyes from people who have recognized him or casually inspecting his surroundings for the sake of it. His eyes land on a familiar head of hair that he has to blink thrice to make sure of what he was really seeing.

There stood Y/N clad in her matching pantsuit, hair in a ponytail and a bag clutched on her elbow. She looks sideways and he was blessed with a side profile of her face. Oh, how he misses her. He decides to take a detour from his usual escapades and makes a beeline towards her.

"Hey"

Y/N turns around, face visibly displaying a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and anger upon seeing Harry.

"Hi," she says curtly, before turning around as her name was called. She grabs her latte and croissant, turning around swiftly before lightly knocking shoulders with Harry's broad ones, make an escape route to the exit. Even though she still had an hour or so left on her break, she doesn't think that she could handle spending any more time with Harry in the vicinity. So she exits and makes it out on the street that has cleared some during her fifteen minutes indoors.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait. Please," Harry shouts from behind her, weaving his way around people blocking his way to Y/N.

"What do you want, Harry?" You.

"I saw you and wanted to say hi," he explains, eyes finding hers trying to find any kind of emotion that meant she was somehow glad to see him. H finds none.

"Well, you said hi. See you around," Y/N briskly tries to walk away once again but is stopped when he grabs her wrist. A chill makes its way up her spine, heart beating untimely. She gulps.

"Please, Y/N. Let's talk,"

She pretends to look at her watch, rolling her eyes before saying, "Fine. You've got ten minutes,"

The pair walk side-by-side towards a nearby park. The silence between them was uncomfortable for both. Sitting on a bench, Harry shifts his body facing her, clearing his throat.

"I want to apologize for-for what I did before," Y/N can tell that he's nervous by the way his body language breaks down in from of her.

"You mean when you cheated on me and I caught you fucking her brains out in the bathroom? Or was it when you knew that your feelings changed for me but you led me on anyway?" Y/N raises her brows accusingly.

He gulps in response.

"Y-yeah for that. Look, I thought about it and it turns out that I still love you, Y/N. I still have feelings for you,"

She takes a bite of her croissant, shifting her gaze somewhere else and further emphasizing how uncomfortable she was feeling right now.

"And if you'd let me, I want to give it another try. I promise I won't ever do it again. You deserve the world and I'm willing to give it to you. I'll do anything that it takes to have you forgive me," he pleads seriously. If he had to jump off of a bridge for another chance at Y/N's love, he would do it. He will do anything to have Y/N forgive him. Anything.

He was blind without her, lost without any guidance and navigating the world alone. He needed Y/N to tell him that it was gonna be okay when times go rough; he needed Y/N to love him like she did before, the way he does for her right at this very moment. He wants to relive the past where he didn't take her for granted--when they were happy. And if he can't, he might as well give it another shot, to experience the happiness she brought him once again by trying the circumstances. He was ready for it if she was.

"I'm engaged, Harry."

His eyes were like laser beams boring through her face; eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing open and closed and his chest felt crushed from the force of her words. She didn't say in a tone to spite him or make him jealous, it was soft and gentle–merely stating a fact that he obviously missed out on because What?

"Engaged? Y/N, what are you talking about," He spits out nervously, not wanting to accept the truth but wanting to learn more about her status. It’d only been eight months, surely she couldn’t have moved on that fast. You’re one to talk, Harry. He snickers to himself.

"Alan and I—we're getting married," She takes a sip of her beverage, ring glinting against Harry's green eyes and he swears that he just saw his life flash before his eyes.

There it is. The ring that bonded Alan and Y/N together, glistening in the sunlight, taunting him. It rested so gently on her pinky as if it was meant to be there. When Harry imagined this moment, she wore a ring that he had given her because he was the one who got down on a knee, declaring his undying love for her, praising her for her beauty and grace, and asking her the question he'd pictured himself repeat about a hundred times under his breath trying to find the best way to ask her to be his wife.

"Y-you're getting married? Tell me you're lying," He sounds angry, demanding, and in disbelief of what's unfolding right in from of his eyes and ears. "Tell me that you're pulling my leg, love," he says his second statement with great vulnerability, voice cracking in the middle of it to which Y/N retracts her neck, appalled.

"No, I'm not kidding. Why would I do that?" Y/N was confused about why Harry was reacting the way he is right now. Shouldn't he be happy for her? After all, he did break it off between the two of them so he had no right to feel hurt or pained. He had Irene.

"Because I wanted it to be me!" He all but yells at her face. Neck vein straining from the blood rushing to his brain, making him dizzy with the knowledge he just received. Palms sweating profusely forcing him to wipe it on his jeans before he takes hold of her empty hand, taking it in his own which she surprisingly lets him.

"I wanted it to be me. I want you to be mine and now I can't because he—he's the one you're going to marry," A lone tear falls down his eyes, nose starting to get runny from the emotions that overwhelm him. She tries to pull her hand back to herself, but he doesn't let her.

"Why are you crying? You wanted this, you wouldn’t have cheated on me if you didn't want me out of your life," She tries to reason and justifies with his previous actions. Everything was making sense until he spits out the bullshit of still loving her. And even so, why did he wait so long to find her and tell her?

"It was a mistake! I was stupid and a huge asshole, I didn't think of the consequences." He grasps tightly to her hand, fearing that this may be the absolute last time he'll be able to touch her like this. "I took advantage of you, of your love and I shouldn't have because you're the most amazing person in this world. You gave me chance after chance and I didn't deserve any of it b-but I just wished you'd give me another one,"

Harry brings her hand up to his lips, kissing it multiple times while looking in her eyes sincerely.

"I'm glad you know that you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now, I finally found my happiness again, you want to take that away from me too? Just so you'd feel satisfied with yourself for getting the girl again?" She pulls away.

"Thanks, I'm flattered but even if I was single, I wouldn't dare give you another chance regardless if you are Harry Styles. I don't care if you can give me the world or anything I want because all I needed was for you to love, trust, and be honest with me." She takes hold of her bag strap blindly, holding her coffee cup in hand and standing up. "You didn't give me any of those,"

Harry stands as well, not prepared to lose her once more. "But I can now! I'll love you so much and I will give every ounce of it out of my body. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Just please,"

"Can't you see, H? I'm happy with Alan now. I've moved on, forgotten about you. For god's sake, I'm getting married!"

Each word she darted out of her mouth was like a gunshot to Harry. Wounds getting deeper and his body feeling heavier than usual, the emotional toll it was giving him was too much for him to handle

"Please. Do the same for yourself. I may not love you the way I did before, but I still care about you," Y/N states gently to Harry. If anything she sees him as a friend, still cares for his well-being. From the short distance, she sees a few girls whispering to each other and pointing at him, obviously recognizing his stance and demeanor.

"But I love you, Y/N! Isn't that enough?"

She only smiles at him before shaking her head, "Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to act on it, and sometimes cheating isn’t a great way to prove that.”

“I hope she was worth it.”

And before he could fire back at a chance to defend himself, the group of girls approaches him suddenly, catching him off guard.

He could hear them requesting to sign their phone cases, could hear the shutter of their phone cameras capturing his dumbfounded face, could hear them chattering about his work and he could hear them praise him for all the things he wasn't. Even with the roar of his crowd performances echoing how much they loved him, nothing beats Y/N's soft voice voicing out an, "I love you, Harry" He feels one girl shake his arm, usually he'd politely ask them to not touch him but at the moment he felt numb.

Because a few meters away, he witnesses Alan and Y/N walking towards each other with the brightest smile on their faces. Greeting each other with a hug, everything about them screamed being in love. Like Harry was, except the girl he adored was loving another man. What hurts the most–when they kissed each others' lips tenderly and his mind plays tricks on him, envisioning that he was the guy that Y/N was with except it flicks back to reality much too soon than he’d like it to be.

His imagination is proof of what could've been him and Y/N spending the rest of their lives together but of course, he’d mess that future up. He stands there wishing he could turn back time, praying to whoever it is up there that could help him find love again. Because his heart continuously breaks seeing her be happy with somebody else.

——- If you like it, shoot me a message If you don’t, pretend you do requests are open!

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Know You Uncomfortably Well: 5, 8, 9, 12, 23, 24, 28, 33, 35, 38, 46, 50, 67, 86, 87 (you /did/ ask for it, my friend :p)

haha I did indeed, and you are ridiculous.  *cracks knuckles* HERE WE GO!

5. What is your favorite color?

Purple!  Specifically purples along this sort of palatte:

8. Where are you from?

Arizona, originally!  But upstate new york is legitimately where my heart lies and where Birdie and I ultimately plan to return to one day.

9. How tall are you?

5′4.75″ ...It’s actually closer to 5′4.5″ but well it all comes out about 164cm in the end.

12. What was your last dream about?

So I don’t tend to remember my dreams very well, but they always tend to be very cinematic and don’t always even involve me, though some of them do.  Always there’s a plot, even if I can’t remember what the plot is.  

The last one I still have some vague memory of I was living in some sort of fascist sort of 1984-ish state, but all slick and 2000s modern and stuff.  And I was in a resistance with Penn & Teller for some reason?  And somehow they were still celebrities?  It was bizarre.

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

I have!  I think there’s only two that weren’t like.  Popular Christian Musicians From The Late 90s/Early Aughts, and those were Alice Cooper (who was very nice and thought the story I told him about how when my mom was in college he performed near her and she hopped the fence at the tiny local airport his private plane had landed in and stuck her gum to the bottom of it before going to the concert was VERY funny).

And the other one I actually knew before he was a celebrity but I think it still counts?  But I was kind of quasi-adopted as a little sister sort of person by Kellan Lutz’s mom?  Uh, he was in the Twilight movies, I forget the guy’s name, the big jock one of the Cullens?  I also babysat his younger brothers, and Kellan taught me how to play Pokemon Snap in his living room.  This was when he was in high school, obviously - he was a year older than me and I thought he was super nice.  I basically lived at their house for a couple years.

24. Baths or showers?

Depends on what I want/need out of it.  If it’s just “I want to get clean and maybe warm”, showers every time especially if there’s not a good deep tub available.  If I want to soak to help my joints/muscles hurt less or if my spoons are low for standing, then baths.

My kingdom for either a LARGE tub with a separate shower that fits a shower chair, or one of those walk-in sitting tubs with a shower attachment.

28. What type of music do you like?

ALL KINDS.  Seriously, I have yet to run into a type of music that I don’t like ANYTHING from that genre, though I’m pickier about some things like heavy metal or country.  But I really like kind of. Indie Rock circa the early aughts?  Not even rock, just like.  Indie rock/pop/folk/country/whatever that weird thing that was going on like.  Norah Jones, Ingrid Michaelson, Rilo Kiley, Neko Case, Sara Bareilles... idk there’s a similar through line to a lot of them?  ...Maybe it’s just they’re all girls man idk XD  But also Give Me Mountain Goats.  I love The Mountain Goats. 

I just like songs, generally.  Fuck genre, often even fuck artist bc there are many artists who I only really listen to a couple of songs from and don’t really get into the other stuff they do.

Also filk.  Seanan and Vixy & Tony and SJ Tucker and all sorts of fun fantasyish folk.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

I mean, often “nothing”, or “I grab some crackers or a boost shake to get me through until lunch”.  I don’t actually like eating right after I’ve woken up?  But sometimes I’ll have cereal or toast.

35. Have you ever tried archery?

*sobs into hands*  OK so when we were living in Florida, my friend Dorian and I actually used to go to an archery class every week, and it was SO FUN.  But then he got a new job and couldn’t do it anymore, and he was my ride and I tried going alone but it just wasn’t the same, but I did graduate to the intermediate class before I stopped going.  I MISS IT SO FUCKING MUCH.

I’d really like to take it back up again, but I don’t have anywhere to practice or anything, so it’s difficult.

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

I think 72 hours, if you don’t count 10 minutes of being conscious but just *grazing* the edges of sleep and then getting woken up again before I could actually sleep.

When the insomnia passed, I slept for like 16 hours straight with two quasi-conscious points when I went to pee.

46. What is your personality type?

Like, from a test or just in general?  In general I think I’m a pretty optimistic but dreamy person.  Creative, not great at motivation, prefer working alone or with one trusted partner I already know to groups, like my alone time, etc.  I did take a couple personality tests to answer tho!:

(from here)

(from here)

50. Left or right handed?

Right handed but I keep trying occasionally to cultivate left handedness in myself. Something I’ve been trying to do since I was like 11 (I never stick at it long enough for it to work, ftr) initially because I was deeply paranoid I would get leukemia and have to get my right arm amputated (I was a weird kid) and I wanted to not have to re-learn how to write while dealing with all that, but then moving forward just ‘cause it would be cool to be able to do, especially when like, I’m trying to do an essay test and my hand is cramping up.

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Well, I didn’t think so and i probably couldn’t do it without a map or a list of what I’ve already named, but I took a test and got 100% sooooo...

86. What are you allergic to?

Tylenol and cantaloupe! Also possibly aspirin.  None of them like LIFE THREATENING but tylenol has increased in severity of symptoms every time I’ve taken it since I was little and the last time I tried I got a REALLY itchy throat and mouth and it felt like things were swollen and making breathing not DIFFICULT but at least very mildly obstructed, so it’s probably for the best not to take it again, y’know?

87. Do you keep a journal?

I don’t.  I used to, when I was in high school I had like four thick journals that had like, those fancy cloth/beaded covers and handmade paper that was really popular for a while in the early aughts?  Including one that had a leather wrap cover that was entirely in tengwar and cirith from Lord of the Rings - not from a website, but my own interpretation of the charts and linguistic information provided in the Lord of the Rings appendices. So that no one could read my diary.

I’ve lost the journals and the tengwar chart I’d made but I can more or less rebuild it with the variety of options you can find online, but it’s a sort of mishmash and I definitely didn’t stick to one language’s usage of certain letters, and I developed certain shorthand quirks - some of which were used by tolkien and some of which weren’t - that would make it very difficult to transcribe that journal even if you were working off the specific variant of the tengwar alphabet that I’d been using.  I don’t think even I could do it anymore tbh, if I were to find that journal.  In my defense, it’s been nearly 20 years since I kept it, so. XD

GET TO KNOW ME UNCOMFORTABLY WELL