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missmaniac25 · 3 months ago

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Jung Wooyoung - Recipe for Love

female!reader x wooyoung Non-idol au; little bit angsty, little bit fluffy WC: 11K Warnings: death of a family member, swearing, alcohol, one pervy customer in the beginning, feelings of abandonment, mentions of violence and maybe blood (I cant remember) ~ A/N: hi! This is actually a spin-off/sequel to my Choi San Learn to Love fic. You don't have to read that one to understand this one although there are some references made in this one that without context might make you go 'huh?'. Feel free to ask me about those. As always, please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar errors. Much love!

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Things had been a little stressful in Wooyoung’s life. Although he firmly believed that he had done the right thing when he resigned from Illusion, standing by his friend and his morals, he was now at a loss for what to do. The income had been good – despite the clientele – and there had been purpose to his days. Now the only thing he really looked forward to was going to the fight club with San but even that joy was short lived.

Something needed to change. Something needed to happen. And it needed to happen now.

Being a waiter was not your passion. It was a means to an end and that end was owning your own restaurant. At least that was what the dream was. It didn’t seem to be panning out so well as you hung up yet another apron and picked up your final pay cheque on the way out of the shitty restaurant you’d called your job for the past two months.

Alright, maybe you had been fired. But maybe the man who had put his hand on your ass while you were pouring his coffee deserved to have milk poured over his head at 9:30 in the morning. Had your previous employees thought bout that? No. Obviously not.

In all honesty, you didn’t hate that you were leaving. It was a terrible place to work anyways: overworked, underpaid, a boss with an ego the size of Jupiter, and customers who didn’t care whether you lived or you died. It did leave you in the same old predicament: what now? The most logical thing was to find a new gig. You could feel your soul being crushed at the sheer thought of it.

You decide to waste the rest of your day walking around your suburb, hoping that the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other will keep your mind off of the matters at hand. People jostled past, continuing with their lives as if you were invisible or just another object in their path. It was humbling. Your feet took you down another road, and then another. Surely this cant be your life forever? There had to be a way to get out of this cycle that you’d unintentionally put yourself into? There has to be…

“The fuck!”

It’s not your voice that yells out, even though you find yourself sitting on the concrete. Littered around you are shopping bags with groceries spilling out, and in front of you is a person who is also flat on his ass. His face is a scowl as he picks himself up, getting the dirt off of his legs.

“Why the hell weren’t you watching where you were going?”

Your brain is still processing what just happened so before you can respond, the man has brushed you off and has started to repack his groceries. The lessons you learnt as a child take over as you start to help him, picking up cans of tomato soup and packets of pasta. But you still are who you are.

“Me!? Why weren’t you watching where you were going? You should’ve been being more careful considering you have all this food to look after!”

“You were the one staring off into space!” he counters. “You should’ve been in the present moment!”

The back and forth bickering continues as you work in tandem with this stranger. Once all the produce has been collected, you find yourself standing in front of him, one of his shopping bags still firmly in your grasp.

“You can give that to me.” He reaches for it. He’s already got three bags juggled between his two hands and you see how he wobbles, off balance.

Almost childishly, you take a step backwards and watch as he struggles to keep himself upright.

“Counter argument,” you say, holding out your free hand. “You give me another one of your bags and I’ll carry them to wherever it is that you’re going.”

The stranger’s face scrunches – he looks as though he’s just taken a sniff of wet dog.

“No, you’re going to steal my stuff!”

“Seriously?”

You look into the packet you’re holding and wonder what a thief would do with four packets of noodles, two strings of onions and an abnormally large bottle of soy sauce.

“Just let me help you! Consider it an apology even though it wasn’t my fault that you didn’t look where you were going.”

The internal debate he’s facing reflects in his eyes. They light up for the briefest of seconds as he makes his mind up. In as short a time as it takes you to simply say ‘I’m sorry’ your arms are laden with all of the remaining shopping bags.

“This way!” The man starts to walk past you down the pavement. “Keep up!”

With a sigh of regret, you turn around and follow.

There’s no talking as you’re led to the edge of the suburb, into a building with a neon sign flickering that it’s ‘open for business’; next to it another sign reads that they’re hiring. It’s a restaurant, you realise. Just your luck isn’t it that as you had run from one, you’d end up at another.

“Just put the bags on the table there,” the man tells you before disappearing into a back door.

You do as you’re told, taking the time to look around the establishment. It’s quaint. It almost feels like you’re standing in your grandmother’s kitchen as a child – the safety of being in a place where love was unconditional. You feel at peace here. For the first time since you stormed out of your previous job, your mind goes quiet.

“Can I help you?”

The voice startles you out of the feelings of your past. A woman has just come out of the door where your new arch enemy had gone into. Her smile is warm; her eyes sparkle with life. Although you reason that she’s about the same age as your own mother, she exudes youth.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” You vaguely gesture to the packets next to you. “I was just helping to bring these.”

“If Wooyoung made you do this, I’ll have to have a word with him,” she tsk’s, still smiling.

As if saying his name summons him like it does the devil, the man reappears.

“What are you still doing here?” His tone is accusatory. “And why are you talking to my mom?”

Quickly, you let your eyes rake over the room you’re in one last time before you apologise to the woman again and turn on your heels to leave.

“Please come again!” She calls out after you, but you hear her son chiding her playfully.

You plan on never going back there ever again.

For three days straight, Wooyoung is hounded by his mother but he supposes that he deserves it a little bit. After you had walked out of the door of Aurora, he hadn’t heard the end of how he should’ve treated you with more kindness – “I always tell you that you don’t know what other people are going through.”

His mother was right but he’d be hard pressed to admit it. And besides, there was no way he could get a hold of you now to apologise. Wooyoung didn’t know your name let alone where to find and he most certainly wasn’t going to take his mom’s suggestion of walking around the streets in the hopes of ‘accidently’ bumping into you again.

As luck would have it, Wooyoung didn’t have to do any such thing as three days after you swear to never return, you find yourself standing outside the quaint restaurant. You rub your thumb over your opposite palm repeatedly as you stare down the sign that tells you that they’re hiring. Tragically, the sign is a strong opponent. It doesn’t back down.

“Stop staring thorough the window, it’s creepy.”

You don’t need to see his face to know who it is.

“I’m not staring through the window, dingus,” you inform him. “I’m debating my future.”

The man whom you assume is Wooyoung steps outside completely with his arms folded over his chest.

“Go debate your future somewhere else, you’re scaring away the customers.”

“You aren’t even open right now!”

Wooyoung knows that he can’t deny obvious facts, much to his dismay. He’s about to find a different excuse as to why you can’t be there when a softer voice interrupts him.

“Don’t let him try and scare you away.” Mama Wooyoung nudges her son out of the doorway to make space for you. “Come inside!”

If it had just been the general annoyance that was Wooyoung, you would’ve declined but the way in which she spoke to you, as if you were her own child, made it feel impossible to say no to her. You pull your feet off of the concrete and go in; that same feeling of nostalgia from three days ago hitting you as soon as you cross the threshold. You’re ushered to one of the tables by the lady who finally introduces herself as Mrs Jung. Giving her son a pat on the shoulder, she instructs him to put the kettle on and get the cups ready. He’s reluctant to leave the two of you alone but with a single look, Mrs Jung sets him straight and he does as he’s told.

“You seem like someone with a lot on their mind.”

Mrs Jung hits the nail on the head and you ponder for a moment if it’s a mom’s super power to be able to look right through someone they’ve only just met.

“You could put it that way,” you say, sitting up a little straighter in your seat. “Your restaurant just makes me feel a certain way.”

“Is it a good feeling or a bad feeling?”

“I’m yet to decide.”

She nods her head slowly seeming to understand that you’re not ready to share everything with her and that you maybe never will be. The door behind her opens and Wooyoung pushes his way out, a tray in his hands which he places on the table. He instinctively sets about making a cup of tea for his mother and potentially the biggest cup of coffee you’ve ever seen for himself. He blatantly ignores you.

When he seats himself down and sips his drink, his eyes dart from you to the items in front of you: make it yourself. You bite on your tongue as you stand up and make yourself a cup. The china rattles as Wooyoung yelps and seems to jump in his chair, legs hitting the underside of the table. His mom is giving him another pointed look and Wooyoung is rubbing his leg.

“Sorry,” he says, but to whom you’re not sure. “Would you like a cookie?”

You realise that he is in fact talking to you as he holds out an open tin of what look like chocolate chip cookies. In an attempt to keep the peace, you accept one before returning to how you were.

“So, tell us.” Mrs Jung sip her tea before putting her cup on the table. “Would you like to work here with us?”

Wooyoung nearly chokes; spluttering as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. You on the other hand, aren’t surprised. You chalk it up to the mother’s superpowers that she knew exactly why you had come back to Aurora.

“It depends on what you’ll let me do,” you confess, ignoring how the man at the table looks back and forth from you to his parent. “I have lots of experience waitering but it’s not where I want to be. I want to be in the kitchen. I want to be a chef.”

“I think we could make an arrangement that would work for everyone,” Mrs Jung says.

“You can’t be serious!?” Wooyoung looks ready to fight you right there and then. “Mama, we don’t even know if she can cook!”

Anger bubbles up inside of you. You question how such a lovely woman has had to put up with such a brat of a son for her whole life.

“Wooyoung, be calm.” Mrs Jung pats his shoulder tenderly. “I’m doing this to help you.”

Once Wooyoung leans back in his chair with his arms folded, his mom explains her plan.

“Wooyoung is working as the assistant chef but there are some nights that he has other engagements and we’re short staffed,” she tells you. “My idea is that you could serve the nights when Wooyoung is here and help to train new servers, and then work in the kitchen the nights when he’s not here.”

As much as the thought of you working here annoys him, Wooyoung understands where his mom is coming from. He knows that they struggle the nights when he goes with San to Inception. He just wishes that it wasn’t you.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now or even today,” Mrs Jung informs you, a soft look in her eye. “You can let me know by the end of the week. If you do want to work here and if you’re happy with that arrangement, then you can bring your resume the next time you come and we can draw up a contract for you.”

Placing your empty cup on the table, you thank her before standing. She insists that Wooyoung walk you out even though you tell her that he doesn’t have to. Reluctantly, he does as he’s asked.

“If you accept,” he says to you as you step outside. “You better not screw my mom over. I don’t know what she sees in you, honestly.”

You can’t hold yourself back as you roll your eyes.

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean that I’m not a good person, Wooyoung. I’m not out for malice.”

He scoffs, closing the door and leaving you alone.

As you start the walk home, so too begins the debate as to whether it’s worth putting up with him for a chance to hone your skills. What’s more important to you: chasing your dreams or being comfortable?

You know what your choice is.

It takes one shift for the urge to kill him to kick in. Despite not even being in the same area of Aurora for more than ten seconds at a time, he finds ways to irritate you. He berates you when he thinks you aren’t picking up orders fast enough. When a customer sends complaints back, he finds a way to make it your fault. You can hear him talking shit about you to the other chef every time you near the kitchen doors but it dissipates as soon as you step inside. One customer had asked you to send compliments to the chef – you’d told Wooyoung that his cooking was heartless and so is he.

Despite that, you come back the next day and repeat the process over again. It’s only on Thursday night, when Wooyoung is dealing with whatever his other obligations are and when you’re in the kitchen, that you finally feel at home there. You find working with the other staff easy and the rush of service makes your heartbeat fast in the best way possible. It’s been so long since you were last able to serve your food to paying consumers – when you walk home that night, the smile won’t leave your face.

And so it goes.

“I don’t understand what her problem is.”

Wooyoung sits, drink in hand, on San’s couch. His friend lounges next to him, nursing his own drink as well as a black eye that he received the night before at the fight club. In all honesty, San is mentally tired of hearing his friend complain about the new hire. But right now he’s physically too tired to tell him off.

“It’s like she’s out to make my life a living hell!” Wooyoung continues to parade around on his high horse. “Ever since we first met, she’s been nothing but rude and disrespectful to me. She told me that my apple tarts were a crime to cooking. A crime, San!”

The aforementioned man hums in response. It’s not enough of a reaction for Wooyoung who then pinches his friend on the leg and makes him yelp.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Unfortunately.”

The chef huffs and leans back, sipping from his glass. It’s something expensive that he would never be able to buy for himself. He doesn’t need to ask where San got it from.

“Have you considered, I don’t know, being nice to her first?” San reasons, knowing what his friend will say to that.

“No! She’s the one who needs to get her head out of her ass and be nice to me first!”

San rolls his eyes.

“Then I guess you’re at a stalemate.”

No quick quip comes to mind, so Wooyoung stays silent: he hates admitting when other people are right.

The tension is tangible. Only the hum of the fridges and freezers fills the space between you two. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought that this was a trap to lure you in and hack you to little pieces – Wooyoung’s way to finally be rid of you. But it was Mrs Jung who had asked you to come in to practice some of your skills and you very much doubted that the general annoyance would involve his own mother in a murder plan. Not even he was that heartless.

“We’re practicing knife skills today,” Wooyoung eventually says, taking his apron from the counter and putting it on. “Show me what you can do.”

You hold your tongue as you prep your space to work. He stands almost on top of you; breathing down your neck as he watches you start slicing. There’s a fast and rhythmical thunk thunk thunk as the blade repeatedly hits the chopping board. The world around you fades as you work until you hear Wooyoung telling you to stop.

He inspects your slices of cucumber like he’s judging a diamond cutting competition.

“You’re quick but you’re inconsistent.” He holds up two slices, one relatively thin and the other rather thick. “You need to work on that.”

“Helpful,” you mutter under your breath. He hears it.

“Hey, I’m only working with what you give me!”

“But telling me to fix something without telling me how to do it is not helpful, you toad!”

Wooyoung’s mouth is agape in mere seconds.

“Toad!?”

His voice is piercing right next to your head and you physically step back in order to save your precious eardrums.

“I am trying to be kind to you and this is the thanks I get!?”

“This is you trying to be kind?” You ask, genuinely.

He scoffs, turning away from you. You don’t’ know what to do, so you stare at your chopping board. He’s right and you hate that he’s right – the slices are inconsistent. You take a deep breath and swallow your pride.

“How do I fix it?”

“Fix what?” He answers. “This mess of a situation?”

“No,” you sigh, rubbing your palm with your thumb. “How I make the slices even?”

He looks over his shoulder at you, seemingly trying to decide if it’s worth continuing. The seconds tick by and you debate giving up and just going home.

“You work too fast. Even my mom says so.” Wooyoung turns around and stands next to you again. “She says that you’re always too busy thinking about the next thing and not about what you’re doing in the moment.”

You want to be mad that she did that thing again but you know that it’s the truth. You’ve spent your whole life doing it – why would your cooking be any different?

“So, I need to slow down.” You try to consolidate.

“Yes. But you also just need to focus on one task at a time. Rather do one thing slowly and well, than do a million things quickly but incorrectly.”

Another silence settles between the two of you but this time it’s not so awkward. It’s almost peaceful; it’s surprising. You’d never had thought that peaceful and the general annoyance could be used in the same sentence together.

You suppose that you could be proven wrong.

“Kitchen is closed!” Wooyoung yells as you pick up your last order for the night.

It had been a rush from the moment you’d arrived right until this very second. Exhaustion was seeping into every crevice of your body. You just had to last another half an hour.

The door to the kitchen swings open as you make your way back with dirty plates. The general annoyance quickly stands aside to let you through. For the briefest of moments you swear that you feel his hand on your waist, guiding you passed him. It must just be your tiredness making you imagine it because when you look back, Wooyoung is already talking to one of the other waiters. Not that you want him touching you anyways.

By the time the last paying customers leave Aurora, and you’ve smiled your last fake smile, you slump into one of the chairs in the hopes of having just five minutes before helping to close up for the night. You close your eyes.

“Get up lazy ass, there’s still work to do!”

You aim in the general direction of where the voice came from and throw the cloth that you use to wipe down the tables at him. He makes some kind of disgruntled noise. There’s a thawp and a snap. A stinging sensation emits from your thigh.

You shoot up and off of the chair, coming face to face with a grinning Wooyoung. He looks far too pleased with himself as you shove him lightly before pulling your cloth out of his hands.

“That’ll teach you not to sit down on the job.”

You so desperately want to retaliate. You want to hurt him back. Instead you brush past him, getting to work quickly, not noticing how his smile falters.

It’s almost an hour later, once you’re satisfied with the state of the chairs and tables, the floor mopped and everything packed away, that you finally get your bag out of your locker and replace it with your server’s apron. Your heart jumps when you close the door and find a face staring directly at you.

“It’s too late for whatever nonsense you’re about to say, Wooyoung,” you tell him, shouldering your bag and making your way to the door. “Just leave me alone.”

The sound of footsteps follows you.

“How are you getting home tonight?”

“Walking. The same as always.”

The general annoyance pushes himself into your pathway, blocking your escape route. He looks far too put together for someone who’s spend the whole night cooking. At least that’s your opinion.

“You walk? Alone!?” Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “Surely that’s not safe.”

“I’ve been perfectly fine until now.” You try to manoeuvre your way past him but he deliberately gets in your way again. “Wooyoung, let me go home!”

You pray that he didn’t hear how your voice wobbled. That he doesn’t see behind the mask of tiredness that you’ve put up to hide what’s truly worrying you. He takes a deep breath before telling you to wait for him, as he dashes off to get his jacket. You can hear him briefly talking with his mom and then he’s back in your line of sight.

“Ok, let’s go.”

“Wooyoung…”

“Stop arguing with me. You’re the one who wants to go home so start moving!”

The night air is crisp against your face but you pretend to not notice. You’re too conscience of the person walking next to you and the fact that neither of you have spoken a single word since leaving Aurora. This feels worse than the constant bickering yet you can’t pinpoint why you feel that way.

“Why do you want to be a chef?”

You’re surprised at how grateful you are that Wooyoung broke the silence. And with that gratitude comes the chance to be honest – you take it.

“My grandmother,” you tell him. “When I was little we used to cook together whenever I would visit. She was always so calm; so gentle with me. Even when I made mistakes, she never scolded me or got angry. She used to say ‘it’s just apart of the process, Bean’.”

A small smile finds its way onto your lips as the memories drift through your head.

“Bean?” Wooyoung looks at you confused.

“That’s what she called me. In her garden she grew green beans, as well as all other kinds of vegetables, and I used to just… sit in the dirt and eat them straight off of the plant. My grandmother would tease me and say that I was going to turn into a green bean if I ate too many. I never stopped though, so she started calling me Bean.”

You hear him let off a muffled laugh.

“Are you laughing at my grandmother?” You tease, gently shoving him with your shoulder.

Wooyoung looks genuinely shocked at first that you would accuse him of such behaviour, before seeing that you’re joking with him, and then he grins.

“Of course not, Bean!”

He’s only just fast enough to move out of the way as you try to bump into him again. His laugh breaks through the night like a firecracker.

By the time you reach your apartment building, you feel more at ease with the general annoyance.

“Hey, before you go,” Wooyoung says as you push open the door to the foyer. “What was bugging you today? You weren’t yourself.”

You swallow the lump that tries to form in your throat and put the mask back up.

“I don’t like you enough yet to tell you all my business, Wooyoung. Good night.”

He looks dejected but he doesn’t push it further.

“Night, Bean. See you tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

It’s a beautiful morning outside – sunshine streams down from the sky, warming up everything it touches. It seems to sneak into the kitchen, even though the doors are closed and you know that none of the stoves or ovens are on. There’s sweat on your forehead. It’s frustrating.

A certain chef sits on the counter a little bit away from you. He’s still as much a menace to you as always; even more so now that he knows your nickname and has refused to call you anything else since finding out a week ago.

“You’re still doing it too aggressively, Bean.” Wooyoung looks over but there’s disinterest in his eyes. “Have you even been listening to me?”

“First I was mixing too slowly, now I’m mixing too quickly,” you say to him, staring at the ceiling. “You’re not giving me clear enough instructions it seems.”

Out of the corner of your eye there’s movement. The sounds of your bowl being washed out and fresh eggs being cracked rings around you. Once it’s been placed back in front of you, you pick up your whisk. Just as you’re about to start you hear Wooyoung tell you to wait. Every fibre of your being goes tense as you feel him stand exceedingly close behind you and place his hand on your hand. His free hand is resting on your waist, just like it did last week but this time you know it’s deliberate.

“Hold the bowl for us, Bean, and just feel how I do it.”

It’s as if all your confidence has abandoned you as you do what he asked. His skin is warm on yours. It must be the weather, you tell yourself, yet you know that your skin is heating up for a completely different reason. You can’t let it distract you now - you shut him out and focus. After a few seconds, Wooyoung slowly let's go, allowing you continue on your own.

“There we go,” he says softly, his voice sounding dangerously close to your ear. “Better already. You just need to be in the moment.”

He doesn’t move away. You don’t tell him to move. Both of you are so honed in on what you’re doing that you don’t even hear the door open and close.

“Aren’t’ you two very cosy!” Mrs Jung’s voice breaks whatever spell the two of you are under.

Almost too hastily you push Wooyoung away from you and he grunts as he gets elbowed in the gut. You don’t know why you feel embarrassed – he was just helping you to perfect your skills, like he’s meant to be doing. However, you feel like a high schooler being caught kissing in the bathroom during class-time. It’s stupid. It’s… annoying.

“I was… just helping… Bean,” Wooyoung huffs out still trying to catch his breath.

You stand like a deer in the headlights, whisk still in your grasp. Mrs Jung simply smiles and puts down the packets of groceries she’d brought in on the counter.

“Oh good!” She says, as she starts to unpack. “Well, don’t let me stop you!”

Mrs Jung gives you a very pointed look and you don’t know what she means by it. There’s no time to dwell on it though as she turns away. The general annoyance moves to stand next to you, a safe distance away.

“Did you have to hit me? That hurt like hell.”

“I… I panicked,” you lie.

Luckily, he’s too caught up in his own misery to catch on, telling you to keep going as he rubs his stomach. With a sigh of relief, you do as you’re told and for the first time that morning you beat the eggs into stiff peaks, like you’re meant to.

“Ok guys, everything looks good, I think you can call it a night.”

The two new waiters both gave you exhausted smiles before disappearing into the staffroom to collect their belongings. They were good kids – young and eager to learn. Mrs Jung had given them to you to take under your wing and tonight was the first time they’d been on the floor whilst you’d been in the kitchen. A little nugget of pride had wedged its way into your heart.

The sound of the front door opening made you turn your gaze. Wooyoung stumbled in and with him a man you’d never seen before; he looked worse for wear with cuts and bruises littering his skin. The two of them made themselves comfortable at one of the tables, talking the entire time. They seemed to completely ignore you until the new guy made eye contact with you.

“Hi!” He says cheerfully, trying to smile but ending up just wincing. “You must be Bean!”

Wooyoung finally takes note of your existence.

“Didn’t you finish an hour ago or something?” He asks, annoyed that you’re still around.

“I was working with the trainees, dipshit. You know, one of the jobs that I’ve been hired to do?”

The other man tries to hide a laugh behind his hand, but Wooyoung hears and practically hisses at him to shut up. He doesn’t listen.

“I’m San, by the way!”

“Hello, San, I have never heard of you before.”

Your confession makes San sad as he turns to Wooyoung with a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

“You don’t tell Bean about me, but you go on and on about her whenever you and I meet up!”

Wooyoung springs up from his chair, unsure who he wants to go after first. Luckily for you and San, Mrs Jung arrives with a tray upon which sits three steaming mugs and an icepack wrapped in a cloth. San is quick to stand up and offer to take the tray from her but she fusses over him and places it on the table.

“How did it go tonight boys?” She asks, handing the icepack to San who puts it to use on his jaw right away.

“Well, he won! He always does. Except for…” Wooyoung trails off as he and San lock eyes.

You feel like you’re in the middle of a very intimate family moment.

“Thank you, Mrs Jung,” you interject, hoping for a smooth exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, have a lovely night.”

“Where are you going? You need to drink your tea!”

Your mouth gapes slightly and you see that your expression is mirrored on Wooyoung’s face. You really want to say no, but you don’t like letting Mrs Jung down. Reluctantly, you pull a chair out and sit with them. The sooner you finish the tea, the sooner you can go.

“Wooyoung, just pop the tray in the kitchen when you’re done. Night everyone!”

The three of you all wish her a good night before a somewhat awkward silence befalls you. It’s San who finally breaks it.

“So, Bean, what do you think of him?”

“You mean my general annoyance? Yeah, we get on like a house on fire.” You tell him, sarcasm dripping thick like honey.

Wooyoung folds his arms and looks away from you. His best friend notices how his cheeks have gone red; he’s definitely going to bring it up later.

“It’s not my fault that you don’t listen,” Wooyoung mumbles.

You decide that it’s better to talk to San while you finish your tea than to let him bait you into another argument. He tells you about how he fights and how Wooyoung is a part of his team; he tells you about his girlfriend and how she worries about his safety in the ring. By the time your drink is finished, Wooyoung seems to have gotten over himself and offers to walk you home. San then offers to drive you considering they came in his car.

“Wooyoung, you can tag along, make it fun.”

You want to decline but it would be nice to not have to be on your feet again.

You accept.

San and Wooyoung watch as you close the door to the foyer after giving them a little wave of thanks. The driver slowly turns to look at his remaining passenger.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to get home to?”

“She knows I’m with you and she knows that I’m alive still. Don’t avoid my question.”

Wooyoung puts his head in his hand, defeat evident in every move.

“How did you know?”

San grins even though it hurts to do so.

“You got all embarrassed when she said, ‘my general annoyance.’ You like the idea of being hers, hey?”

Wooyoung is lightning fast as he smacks San on the arm, but it doesn’t stop the latter from laughing loudly.

“If you tell anyone about this then you’re a dead man,” Wooyoung threatens. “Especially my mom.”

San hums in agreement as he starts the car. He’s pretty sure Mrs Jung already knows but he’ll keep that information to himself for now.

Something’s different. He can’t quite place his finger on it but there’s something missing from Aurora tonight. Wooyoung peaks through the kitchen door to the seating area. He’s meant to be doing food prep, but the feeling keeps lingering and it’s distracting him.

“Wooyoung!” Mark, the head chef yells. “Get your ass back here!”

The young man makes one last sweep of the people before reluctantly making his way back inside.

‘What is wrong with me?’

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Jung,” you say again into the receiver.

“It’s ok, you’re allowed to not feel well. The others are doing well enough to survive without you for one night.”

Despite what she tells you, you still feel a tiny bit… horrible. You weren’t sick per se, but you certainly weren’t feeling like yourself. Since you’d woken up there’d been a cloud hanging over you that no matter what you did refused to go away. The thought of facing people – especially strangers – made the cloud grow darker. It had taken some time to build up the courage to call Aurora and ask for the day off.

“Thank you, Mrs Jung.” You sigh softly, finally accepting that it’s going to be ok. “I’ll cover the next time someone else can’t be there.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” she commands in her motherly voice. “You focus on resting and feeling better soon.”

The call ends and you fall onto your bed, eyes on the ceiling, your thumb rubbing the palm of your hand. The cloud is still there, but at least it’s a shade lighter now.

Ding dong.

The night has slipped by, and you haven’t moved a muscle. Only now do you turn your head, willing whoever is at the door to leave you alone. The sound rings out again followed by rapid knocking. You wait it out again but alas, it’s gets worse. The doorbell, the knocking and lastly someone calling out your name. And not just anyone.

Him.

You know for a fact that if you don’t answer he’ll keep making more of a ruckus, potentially waking up your neighbours and you don’t want to deal with a noise complaint right now. You drag yourself off of your bed and make your way to the front door.

“Finally!” Wooyoung says once he sees your face. “I thought you were never going to answer.”

He pushes his way inside, hands full of grocery bags, and finds his way to your small kitchen. Immediately, he begins to rummage through your cupboards, pulling out various pots and chopping boards.

“Firstly, how do you know where I live?” You ask after closing the door again.

“I found it in your employee file.”

“That’s a breach of privacy and potentially illegal.”

Wooyoung waves you off as he begins to boil water. He seems far too comfortable for a person working in an unfamiliar environment.

“Secondly, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Mama said that you were sick, so I’m making food for you, Bean.”

You stand there, partly stunned and partly impressed. You’re unsure why you feel the latter. Your general annoyance keeps pottering and…

‘Wait since when has he been my general annoyance?’

Your thoughts race like a steam train as you try to reason with yourself that Wooyoung is not ‘yours’, he’s just a guy that irritates you and that you don’t care about him that much and it means NOTHING that you just called him yours…

“Where are your spices? You’re a chef and you have no spices, that’s outrageous!”

That pulls you out of your spiralling, making your way to your cupboard to show him your array of spices that you’ve collected. Some of them are even handpicked but you decide to not mention that right now.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Not before long, you and Wooyoung are seated at your kitchen table, quietly eating from the miniature feast that he has created for you. There was so much, in fact, that you decided to put some of it in containers and freeze it for another day. You assumed that his cooking was good considering he worked at Aurora but tasting it, you hated to admit that it was amazing. You kept eating and avoiding eye contact with him.

“So, is this up to your standards, Bean?”

You lift your shoulders in a shrug and Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me for one night?”

“Maybe. That’s why I don’t do it cause I don’t want to find out.”

“I’m taking all the food back.”

You and Wooyoung continue to eat quietly until your plates are empty, and without even discussing it you both help to clear the table and begin the process of cleaning up. You run water into your sink while Wooyoung throws the scraps and papers from his ingredients away. It’s almost natural how he comes to stand next to you and helps to rinse the dishes off – working in tandem the task goes by exceedingly quickly and without a single word needing to be spoken.

“Thanks for all of this,” you finally say as you dry your hands off. “You didn't have to.”

“Of course I had to. You’re not feeling well and I'd be a terrible friend if you I let you suffer alone.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Your general annoyance lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind being your friend. I just don’t want you to bite my head off if that’s not what you want.”

You motion for him to follow you to your living room and seat yourself on your couch; Wooyoung sits himself beside you.

“I guess you can be my friend,” you tell him. “It might be nice to be friends with you.”

Wooyoung offers his hand to you as a sort of peace offering and after a second you slowly place your hand into his. His skin is warm against yours and he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. It feels good. It’s grounding.

“It’s her anniversary,” you admit. “It’s the anniversary of my grandmother’s passing.”

The grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly and it helps a great deal in keeping your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bean. I truly am.”

You tell Wooyoung that he has nothing to be sorry for but he shushes you gently, jokingly explaining to you that this is what friends do. He asks you to tell him more about her and you spend a long time recounting every story that you can about the time you’d had with your grandmother – all the dishes that you’d made together, all the moments that you’d shared.

By the time Wooyoung leaves your apartment, the stars have started to fade already. He gives you a tight hug before you say goodbye and you almost don’t let him go.

“Don't come in if you don’t feel like it, Bean,” he says, stepping outside the door. “Mama will understand.”

“Thank you, Wooyoung. For everything.”

He gives you that wicked smile but you can now see the affection behind it.

“Don’t mention it. Or at least don’t mention it when no one else is around; tell everyone how nice actually I am to you.”

You give him a tender shove into the passageway, your own smile sneaking its way onto your face.

“In your dreams, Wooyoung. In your dreams.”

“I don’t know, man, things have just been… different between us lately.”

San had made a bet with his girlfriend as to how long it would take his friend to bring up Bean during the five hour car ride. Unfortunately for him, his girlfriend had been right – under two hours – and he now owed her breakfast in bed when he got back after the week away.

“How so?” San dared to ask; at least this would make the time go faster.

“It’s like, she doesn’t hate me anymore.”

“How did you manage that?”

Wooyoung mumbles about how he’d retaliate if he wasn’t driving and keeps his steely gaze on the road.

“I don’t know. We talked about some stuff and ever since then she’s been… nice to me… in her own way.”

“In her own way?” San presses, enjoying watching his friend try and figure out what San thinks he already knows.

“I mean she’s still a pain in the ass most days but it’s not as annoying.” Wooyoung takes a deep breath. “She riles me up on purpose but she’s not being mean to me anymore. I kind of miss it sometimes.”

“You miss her being mean to you?” San looks confused.

Wooyoung shrugs as he mulls it over in his head. He knew that his feelings were probably altering his outlook on the whole situation – searching for something that wasn’t there – but neither he nor you could deny that things had indeed been different since that night. He saw it when you smiled after you gave him a snarky remark about what he was wearing. How you didn’t mind getting physically close to him during your training sessions in the kitchen. And yes, you had toned down on your comments, no longer attacking him personally instead just generally pushing his buttons. Wooyoung liked that he didn’t have to keep his guard up around you now.

“You need to just ask her out already.”

San’s words cause such a shock that Wooyoung nearly serves; his passenger holding on for dear life.

“Are you crazy!?” Wooyoung practically shouts. “I’m not doing that!”

“Why not?” San counters, having recovered from the sudden shunt to the side.

The driver mumbles something under his breath but in the small confines of the car, his friend hears it: she won’t say yes to me.

San resigns himself to spending every moment of his spare time this coming week to convincing Wooyoung that you will say yes to him. Maybe he can get even with his own girlfriend in the process with another bet.

The kitchen had been far too quiet. Actually, the entirety of Aurora had been quiet without a certain someone around to fill the moments of silence. Despite knowing that your general annoyance wasn’t going to be there, it had still been a shock to your system to walk through the doors and not receive some kind of snarky remark. It was almost second nature now – your own little personal greeting with him and his absence had hit you harder than you’d cared to admit.

But everything was meant to go back to normal today. You’d already planned on bragging to him about how smoothly everything had gone without him there. Of course, he’d have some sort of response to that – probably something about all the training he’s been giving you finally paying off – you were looking forward to it. You pushed open the back door and made your way into the employees’ area.

Nothing.

You didn’t expect the rest of the staff to be as early as you were – there were some newbies starting today and you wanted to touch base with them before everything became chaos. But no Wooyoung? No chatter or laughter or banter? The atmosphere was unsettling.

But as you placed your bag down and took out your waiter’s apron, you heard whispering coming from the main body of Aurora. Two voices were having a heated but muffled debate about something – the words getting lost between them and you. You knew those voices. You could even admit to having missed one of them far more than you thought you would.

San and Wooyoung try and fail to look natural as you step through the door. The former leaning back in his chair and stares at the ceiling, the latter is pretending to read the back of a salt shaker.

“Secrets aren’t fun if you keep them to yourself,” you tell the boys, making your way over. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

“Oh, you’re here!” Wooyoung says as if he’s just noticed, fooling no one. San remains quiet.

“Yes, I’m here, I work here, dumbass. And to think that I was going to be nice and say ‘welcome back.’”

They mumble their thanks but the awkward atmosphere still coils around the three of you. When no one else makes a move to say anything more, you take your cue.

“Alright, good chat, lads.” You turn to go. San calls you back.

“I’m actually on my way out, it’s nice to see you again, Bean.”

He smiles at you without making eye contact before he almost quite literally bolts for the door. Now it’s just you and your general annoyance. It feels like there’s something that needs to be said but neither one of you are willing to be the person to break the ice. Wooyoung is still holding the saltshaker like it’s a lifeline.

“How did San do?” You think of something that will stop this weirdness.

“With what?” Wooyoung looks at you with genuine confusion in his eyes. “What did he do?”

“His fight… the one that you went out of town for…”

The man in front of you gains the knowledge he already knew and for a split second he cringes at himself for forgetting.

“Oh yeah, that. He won, of course. He always wins. I always set him up for success.”

“He’s pretty lucky to have you in his corner then.”

The two of you lock eyes.

“I’m in your corner too, Bean.”

The air leaves your lungs instantaneously. You don’t even know why his words are affecting you so much – it’s just Wooyoung.

But maybe that was what the problem was. The relationship between the two of you wasn’t what it used to be and the both of you were highly aware of it. But what exactly you were now, you didn’t want to know. You weren’t ready for what would logically come next: the getting together, the good times, the bad times and inevitably the breakup. That’s how these types of things always went. Why set yourself up for heartache?

The chatter of people on the other side of the door derails your train of thought. Wooyoung stands up, what he wants to tell you is on the tip of his tongue but before he gets the chance to say anything more, you’re excusing yourself and walking away. He wants to kick himself. He had the chance, yet he did nothing.

Wooyoung vows to himself that he won't wait for another chance to pass him by – he was determined to create one.

“Wait up!”

You stop the door from closing behind you at the call. Wooyoung barrels towards the exit, putting his jacket on as he does, thanking you once he steps out onto the street.

“Where are you off to so late?” You ask, letting the door close before beginning the journey home. It had been a busy but uneventful shift – you hadn’t realised how tired you’d become until the last chair had been overturned and place on it’s table. “Surely not even you have any energy left after tonight.”

Your general annoyance falls into step alongside you, his shoulder bumping against yours ever so slightly.

“I’m walking you home, Bean.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don't have to. But I want to.”

It’s pointless arguing with him over this so you allow him. You note how fidgety Wooyoung is as you make your way down the road – he keeps shrugging his shoulders or brushing imaginary dirt off of his face. You’re about to bring it up but he speaks first.

“Bean, can I ask you something?”

There’s an uneasy feeling that makes itself known in the bottom of your stomach.

“You already did but go ahead.”

His quick bout of laughter does nothing to calm your nerves. Wooyoung stops walking and turns to face you. There’s no choice but to do the same.

“I... We’ve been getting along pretty well, haven't we?” He asks, finally stilling.

“Yeah. We’re friends. You’re the one that declared us that.” You try to tell him without actually telling him.

“What if we...” He falters but not because of what you said. Wooyoung takes a breath before continuing. “Would you be open to going on a date with me?”

“No.”

That singular word changes everything. The man in front of you looks as though you’ve told him that the world is about to end; his eyes shimmer under the streetlights.

“Why not!?” Wooyoung says loudly. “What’s wrong with me?”

“It has nothing to do you with you, Wooyoung. It’s me, ok?”

His head tilts. You can see the gears inside turning slowly. You decide to bite the bullet.

“Wooyoung, you’re really lovely and I mean that. You’re someone I know has my back, someone who has my best intentions at heart, despite where we started. But I don't want things to end badly between us.”

“You’re scared of the possibility of us breaking up before we’ve even tried?”

“It’s more than that...”

Wooyoung takes a step closer. He still smells faintly of the meals he was preparing earlier.

“You’re rushing. Like you always do. You rush your cooking, and you rush your entire life. And now you want to rush a relationship that hasn't even happened yet.”

“There’s no one else!” You yell, taking him by surprise. Your chest rises and falls erratically. “There’s no one else, Wooyoung. There’s no one else in my corner.”

“What do you mean?”

He gingerly places his hands on your shoulders, sliding them all the way down your arms until he has your hands in his own.

“I... My grandmother was the only person who supported my dreams. My parents told me it was a stupid idea and that I would never succeed. It caused a fight between us, and I've barely spoken to them since. When my grandmother died... Even at her funeral, they wouldn't talk to me.”

You try to take a breath but it’s shaky. You watch as Wooyoung rubs his thumbs over the knuckles of your hand – it's comforting and it gives you the strength to continue.

“If you and I dated, and we did break up... I’m completely on my own.”

“Bean, it’s me.” He gently coxes you into looking at him properly again. “You know me.”

You try to say something against it but he’s quick to jump back in.

“I care about you, Bean.” He says, voice strong. “I support you; I care about you; I love you!”

A quiet gasp leaves his mouth the second he’s finished talking. You retract your hands out of his hold and move backwards.

“I can walk the rest of the way by myself.” You tell him, turning in the direction of your apartment building.

You can hear him calling out after you but you ignore him. Picking up the pace, you only stop running when you’re safely inside of your home. Only then do the tears start and despite your best efforts, they refuse to stop.

Even without a breakup, you feel that you’ve lost him.

You’re on your own.

San is shocked to find his best friend standing outside his front door in the early hours of the morning. He’s even more shocked at the state that he finds Wooyoung in – hair dishevelled, eyes red, out of breath.

“Come in, just be quiet.”

Wooyoung doesn’t need to be told twice. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and downing the water he gets from the tap. It doesn't satisfy him as the next moment, San sees his friend with his head in the booze cabinet.

“Wooyoung, maybe tonight is not the night for that.”

San’s words fall on deaf ears. Wooyoung sets the ingredients on the kitchen counter and recalls all the nights he spent bartending at Illusion as he mixes himself a cocktail that will hopefully knock him clean out once the last drop has passed his lips. San watches on, knowing that Wooyoung won’t be going back home tonight. When he sees the light in his bedroom flicker on, he goes to tell his girlfriend what’s going on, leaving Wooyoung to drown in his drink and his own self-pity.

By the time San comes back with a blanket and pillow for his unexpected guest, the cocktail is finished and Wooyoung has laid himself down on the couch in the lounge.

“I fucked up.” He tells his host. “I fucked up big time.”

“We all do that sometimes.” San places the items on the coffee table. “You’re talking to someone who made a hell of a lot of mistakes, remember? Things will turn out ok.”

“Just because they did for you doesn't mean that it will for me.”

San wants to scold Wooyoung but decides against it tonight – he’s been through enough for now. Instead, he tells Wooyoung that they’ll talk about it in the morning, wishing him a good night and returning to his bed and his partner.

Wooyoung stares at the dark ceiling above him. He didn’t want you to hate him again but after his stunt, he’s certain that you already do.

He loves you and you hate him.

And now, he hates himself too.

Despite having taken four painkillers and essentially doubling the water bill of San’s apartment for the month, Wooyoung can still feel a throb behind his eyes that resonates through his entire skull as he wanders back to Aurora. He’s desperately hoping that his mom won't ask too many questions and instead just leave him be for today. He’s still trying to figure out how badly his heart has been broken.

You, meanwhile, sit at a table with Mrs Jung, a cup of tea in your hands. In all honesty, you’d arrived at the door with the intention of quitting and for once it wasn’t what you wanted to do – all the places you’d worked at before had simply been an income, yet this place had become a second home.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” she tells you, sipping from her own cup. “I can see that you’ve got other things on your mind at the moment.”

You cast your gaze down. The conflict that was building inside of you was almost pulling you apart. You wanted to stay; you wanted to do what Mrs Jung had asked – your very soul begged you to. But the thought of facing Wooyoung...

The front door opened and before you could stop yourself, you locked eyes with him. Neither of you moved. You’re certain that you don’t even breathe.

“What are you doing here?” It’s not an accusation. You can hear the concern in his voice. “Bean, please tell me that you're not leaving me...”

The words you want to say die on your tongue. Wooyoung looks at you with desperation.

“Come sit,” his mother encourages him, immediately fetching another cup and making him his drink.

He’s hesitant but he obeys. You finally break away from looking at him, staring at your hands as you rub your thumb over your palm again and again.

“Bean...”

“I’m not leaving you.”

It's so soft that Wooyoung isn't sure he even heard it at first. Once it registers in his mind, a sigh of relief escapes him.

Mrs Jung returns with a coffee for her son, and she sits down.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer please, Mrs Jung,” you say, louder this time around.

She gives you a tender smile.

“Mark still has two weeks left so we’ll use that time to have him teach you and tell you everything that you need to know.”

Wooyoung feels as though his brain fog hasn't cleared completely yet – what did the head chef have to do with any of this?

“And of course that then means that you’ll be running the kitchen entirely on your own when Wooyoung isn't there.”

You nod, fully aware of what saying yes entails. You know it’ll mean longer hours and more exhausting shifts. Being responsible and being a leader. Spending more time with your general annoyance...

“I’m prepared for whatever happens,” you say, finally picking up your cup and taking a sip.

“Mark’s leaving?” Wooyoung finally catches on, looking between his mother and you. “Why?”

“There’s other obligations he wants to attend to,” Mrs Jung answers simply. “It’s time for change.”

Wooyoung nods – he too was desperate for change not so long ago. And then you had walked into his life.

Maybe things would be different for the better.

“Behind!”

You held your breath as Wooyoung slipped past you. It was only the briefest of seconds and yet in your mind it was a lifetime. Once he was safely out of the way, you exhaled and continued to plate your dish.

“Service!” You called and one of your waiters quickly swept the dishes away.

Your general annoyance moved past you once again, the words ‘sorry Bean’ hastily falling from his lips. Again, you found yourself waiting until he was far away from you to exhale once more.

Between you and Wooyoung, your relationship had begun to feel as though it had turned for the worst – the snide remarks dwindling into a simple ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’. Casual touches had turned into giving each other more space than was necessary. Working together had gone from something you’d look forward to, to a challenge you had to face.

You hated it. One long, tedious month of this awkward song and dance that you had forced him and you to be partners for and you only had yourself to blame.

The sound of patrons filtered through the open kitchen door and brought you back to the present – there was still work to do. The kitchen wasn't going to run itself and your partner was already busy with the next thing. With a shake of your head, you pick up the next order and got busy.

You lose count of the number of times you hold your breath that night.

“I booked you in for an out-of-town match in two weeks time.”

San isn't surprised in the slightest. Wooyoung had been booking him in for as many out of town matches as he could find, claiming that it was better money or more challenging fights. San continues to aim at the punching bag, landing hit after hit.

“How far away are we going this time?”

For a moment San’s not sure he hears correctly as Wooyoung mumbles under his breath.

“What do you mean not far enough,” he asks, taking a break to look at the man with him.

Wooyoung averts his gaze, opting to look out the window rather than at his friend. He knows that it's childish the way that he's behaving but he doesn't know how else to deal with his situation. Constantly running away feels cowardly. Staying makes him want to rip his own heart out.

“I can't keep doing this,” Wooyoung sighs. “I can't keep feeling like I don't mean anything to her anymore.”

It's the truth. Physically, you're close to him all of the time and yet he misses you so much. He'd even take you openly hating him again if it meant you'd look at him rather than the way you act as though he doesn't exist. Sure, you greet him when you come and go but you never say more than a few words to him at a time. He's been trying to give you space, trying to let you process what happened and how you feel. Waiting for you to come to him when you’re ready but his lack of patience is eating him alive.

“Do you really love her?” San asks, although he already knows the answer.

“Of course I do!” Wooyoung's voice gets louder as he looks back at San. “That's why being close to her is hurting me. That's why I want us to go as far away as we can just to give myself a chance to feel ok for a while.”

Wooyoung's chest heaves. His eyes are burning. San knows he’s telling the truth.

“Well, maybe it's time to stop running and time to start acting like you love her,” San offers before turning back to his training.

Wooyoung wants to berate his friend but the sound of San's gloves hitting the punching bag takes over any silence that was there. He and San are two different people – simply because San didn't run away and things worked out for him, didn’t mean the same for Wooyoung.

He's left to think about what was said, all the while his head tells him to keep running.

His heart begs him to stay.

“I won’t be here next week.”

You look up from wiping the counters clean.

Wooyoung stands a few steps away from you, his apron in his hands. For the first time in a long time, you really get a good look at him. His hair seems to have gotten longer, and he looks leaner than you remember. Such small differences but it makes a big impact on you.

You really have been avoiding him more than you realized.

“Oh,” you say, slowly going back to what you were doing. “Thanks for telling me this time.”

“What do you mean by that?” Wooyoung steps closer.

Your voice is low when you answer him.

“You tend to just... disappear without a word. I never really know if you’re going to be here when I arrive or not. I assume you’re traveling with San but it’s nice to get a heads up this time around.”

As you move to the next counter, Wooyoung follows close behind you.

“My mom didn’t tell you when I was going?”

“I guess she assumed that you would’ve told me.”

Once the counter is clean, you stand up straight, fiddling with the cloth that’s in your hands.

“I’m sorry.”

You look at Wooyoung; his apology taking you by surprise.

“I’m sorry for not telling you myself. That was rude and cowardly. You deserve better than that, especially from me.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” you tell him, as you ponder where this is going.

“But I should be,” he insists, closing the space between the two of you even further. “I should be held to a higher standard. A better one. Because I promised that I'd always be in your corner, and I've been doing a really shitty job of it lately.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he looks directly into your eyes.

“Regardless of what you feel, Bean, I still care about you. And I'm going to be better at showing it from now on.”

His eyes dart over your face before he steps away, bidding you a goodnight and leaving you in your own stunned silence.

The week comes, the week goes. This time feels different. You work yourself to the bone trying to not think about how much you’re missing a certain someone’s presence in the kitchen with you. You arrive at Aurora early, you leave late, and the time in between is spent doing anything and everything you can to fill the space. All the little tasks around your apartment that you’ve been putting off, finally get their turn in the spotlight. By the time the last day rolls around, there’s nothing left for you to do inside.

So out you go. But what you’re not expecting to find outside of your apartment building is the person you’ve been trying so desperately to not think about.

Wooyoung stands, staring up at the window’s reflecting the last rays of afternoon sun. A kit bag rests at his feet. You can see that he’s deep in thought from the way that his jaw clenches and unclenches.

“You’re back early.”

His gaze is torn away from the architecture and his eyes lock with yours.

“They cancelled the last day’s matches.” He picks up his kit bag and makes his way towards you. “Too many fighters injured.”

“And San?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” he smiles ever so subtly. “Nothing can topple that mountain. Except his fiancé, I guess.”

You and Wooyoung watch each other for a while as the world continues around you. There’s the noise of cars driving past, people talking, dogs barking. All you see is him.

“The kitchen’s been quiet without you,” you admit.

The playful gleam that’s been absent for the past month returns to Wooyoung’s eye.

“Are you saying that you missed me, Bean?”

You give him a halfhearted shove, turning your head so that he doesn't see the smile that’s starting to form on your face.

“No, I'm saying it was easier to concentrate without you constantly yapping away in the background like the general annoyance you are.”

You feel a feather light touch on your chin as Wooyoung brings your eyeline back onto him. He’s still smirking but it doesn’t irk you like it used to when you first met him. It's kind of attractive.

“I’m not just anyone’s annoyance,” he says. “I’m your annoyance, Bean. And I like being yours.”

“I’ll have you know that I don't regard this as a first date.”

How your general annoyance had roped you into helping with grocery shopping for the restaurant was anybody’s guess. In one hand you carried your share of the bags, and in the other, you were kept firmly in Wooyoung’s grasp.

“I don’t see why it can’t be,” he teases, continuing to lead the way back to Aurora. “It reminds me of when we met.”

“You mean when you knocked me over and then were mean to me for no reason even though I was exceedingly nice to you?”

Wooyoung scoffs and it makes you laugh.

“That’s not what happened,” he tries to defend himself. “You’re remembering it all wrong, Bean.”

“You’re so full of nonsense.”

Wooyoung abruptly stops, pulling you flush against him. There’s that naughty look in his eye and it makes your heart beat a little faster. It’s only been one week since you agreed to give a relationship with him a try – the nerves still caught you by surprise.

“But let’s be real, Bean. You love me better this way.”

“Bold of you to assume I love you at all,” you quip, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed you must look.

The distance between the two of you is gone as Wooyoung kisses you. It catches you so off guard that you can’t even do anything about it before he’s pulling away again.

“I know you love me, Bean, even if you don’t want to admit it just yet,” he says with a smug look on his face.

Maybe he was correct, but you’d never accept defeat from him.

“We’ll see about that, my general annoyance.”

He leans in to kiss you again and this time it’s you who pulls away first, much to Wooyoung’s dismay. As you tug him along, hoping to get back to Aurora sooner rather than later, you know that he’s right: you do love him. And with Wooyoung in your corner, nothing can hold you back anymore.

#ok it's tagging time #jung wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung au #ok that's enough i'm tired #Wooyoung #Miss Maniac's Writing

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valentineispunk · 3 months ago

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My Angel, My angel

Chapter one: Scenes From The Past

WARNINGS: Not many for this one! Angst, mentions of overdose, cannabis use.

long ass A/N: Please, comment or review this fic! I’m a silent reader myself, but those are the things that keep me motivated. Also, if there are any mistakes, suggestions, or tips, please let me know! So frequently I notice small errors in others writing and want to help but I don’t want them to take it the wrong way. It’s also hard to notice those kind of things when you’re the one behind the screen writing it. So, i’m telling you - let me know! Also, this chapter seems kind of shitty and unfinished to me, especially because I just read one of the best written fics ever (So Much To Lose by @auteurdelabre) but, i’m eager to get this out. I hope my writing grows stronger through this series, and I hope you give it the time to. XO

- Valentine.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.”

A quote I deeply resonate with. It’s from a book I read last summer, “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, of course. I don’t think there’s a single word, thought, idea, or sentence from Sylvia Plath that I wouldn’t understand or relate to in some way.

I tried to tell my dad this once, and he called her crazy. His simple mind couldn’t piece together why I was upset with him after that. Thinking back on the memory makes me mad, but I force my rotten mind to remember anyway.

I don’t know why. I guess, I'm just in a melancholic mood. Sitting in my childhood bed — after year’s, does that to me I suppose.

I'm spending the summer with my dad, here in Texas. A while back, my dad found me passed out with a bottle of pills, and shoved me off to my mom's place in West Virginia for a while saying “We need to get ya’ out of this town. Get ya’ some help”.

Eighteen and nineteen felt like some of the longest years of my life, I'm glad they’re over. They were filled with medication and boyfriends. Mom decided I had gotten worse being in an even smaller town, so she finally shipped me back. I was actually pretty happy about it. The feeling of watching everybody’s faces slur together and mix like paint in a pallet as my brain slowly and inevitably forgot them was miserable.

I wonder how many times they’ll juggle me back and forth between states until they unanimously decide to kick me out and let me fend for my own. It hasn’t been a week since I arrived, and everything still feels fresh. I’ve spent all my time doing a whole lotta’ nothing. I didn’t have much to unpack, and dad has been working late almost every night.

My bedroom was much smaller than I remembered. As if all the walls came in a few square feet. The floral sheets on the tiny twin bed — still covered in old stains — peeled off the mattress at the corners, and the whole room felt weirdly warm. Boy band posters left hanging on the wall, and dust layering thick over all my old possessions. This was my life once.

The whole thing made me feel uneasy.

Luckily, this morning my dad called and finally gave me something to do — an excuse to get the fuck out of here.

I had been avoiding leaving, or more so avoiding everyone’s pitiful gaze, but i’m so fucking i’m tired of just sitting here.

Dads buddy Joel Miller’s daughter, Sarah, has some old DVDs they’re trying to get rid of. So, I'm to go through them and see if I can find anything I like. I guess their logic was “Some movies will keep her busy!”

I remember the Millers pretty well. Mr. Miller was one of my dad’s only friends since I was born — and my biggest crush throughout high school. He always dressed in worn-out, discolored, blue jeans and an old flannel. I remember he always smelt of coffee and earthy cologne.

Sarah was close to my age. I heard she was spending her senior year studying at some expensive high school in California. As kids, I suppose she and I were close. She was one of those friends that you could always trust, and no matter how much time you spent apart, you could just click back together as if you never left.

I used to be crazy jealous of her. She was just herself. Didn’t seem to worry about how people viewed her. She didn’t fit into any social circle, or follow any aesthetic. She could mix match her clothes and still look perfect with her smooth chocolate skin.

I imagine it was that exact jealousy that eventually drove us apart.

My dad said Joel would pick me up around 6:00 pm. I told him I could just walk there and he spoke with that typical rough Texan drawl, “No, he won’t take no for an answer.”

Which I hated. I’m not stupid, I know just about everyone in this town had heard about my overdose, but I don’t want Mr. Miller of all people pitying me. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few streets over on my own, but I decided it wasn’t worth the argument it would surely cause if I mentioned it.

I heavily focused on how I dressed and looked today. I felt like since the last time Mr. Miller saw me, I had developed. Not only physically, as a woman, but mentally I'm different —everything feels different since West Virginia.

I dressed in some vintage low-rise jeans I had thrifted a while back, a simple tank top, and an oversized zip-up hoodie. I didn’t worry much about my hair. I don’t think I had done anything with it since the 6th grade, when I decided pulling my hair back makes my face look round and childish.

୨♡୧

The cool wind outside sent a shiver across my shoulders, despite the warm wool of the hand-me-down jacket I was wearing.

I had run out of things to busy myself with while waiting for Joel, so I settled on waiting on the curb outside — rather foolishly. Now when he sees me, my face will be flushed and my nose snotty from crisp January air.

I skipped through playlists and songs, since I seemingly wore out about everything.

Get Gone - Fiona Apple

True Love Waits - Radiohead

Asleep - The Smiths

It Ain’t Me, Babe - Joan Baez

I Want Someone Badly - Jeff Buckley

I noticed a pattern, skimming through my music. God, just existing makes me feel like such a stereotype. Classic, attention-seeking, melancholy teenage girl. I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out whether or not that’s true. Or if I’m truly as sad as I feel I am.

My thoughts were interrupted by the cracking and crunching of loose gravel to the left of me. As I stood, a familiar olive green truck pulled up by the curb.

My eyes settled on yet another familiar thing, sitting in the driver's seat.

Joel Miller

I suppose my time getting ready went to waste, because I know I look a mess. Nose and cheeks reddened, hair blown messy from the bitter wind, pebbles sticking to the back of my thighs from the road, and tangled headphones hanging low.

It’s times like these when I'm bound to wind up thinking of Shakespeare.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

Because it is my fault, I suppose. I chose to sit outside, too listen to music and wait. But I won’t dwell on it. I have the free will to think up some ancient god or deity and blame my fate on them for today.

Now, I know I knew Mr. Miller was picking me up, but it didn’t exactly process. Now that the adrenaline is gone, my breath is stuck in a familiar ball at the top of my throat. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, or anyone from around here for that matter. However, I’ve been standing on the overgrown grass by the road staring at him like a fool for who knows how long.

When I hopped in the tall truck, I felt a bit better seeing what he looked like. Freshly out of work, sweat gathered on his brow and dirt stains on his jeans. His shoes were covered in mud and his calloused hands were grimey.

I tucked my legs under my arms and held them there. My dad would’ve already yelled at me to “buckle up”, but joel hadn’t.

Once I stopped comparing myself to this particular grown man's demeanor, I found something else of his to focus on — his face.

It seems I’m not the only one who’s aged. Mr. Millers curled hair had grown and grayed, and the fine lines on his face were re-carved by great sculptures to be deeper. His skin was tanner and his body hair bristly.

I wasn’t sure of his age at the time, but I’d guess late forty’s.

Almost perfect beekeeping age. My favorite.

I almost laughed out loud.

He greeted me with a head nod and a small crooked smile. His truck quietly played soft rock and smelt strongly of masculine car freshers and — fucking weed?

Honestly, did not expect that from him.

“You look different.” I thought aloud.

He grunted. “You too.”

There were a couple polaroids taped to the dash of a teenage Sarah and him, as well as a dog I don’t recognize. Thank him, thank him, thank him, I thought.

“Thanks for the ride.” I spoke smally.

His eyes left the road for a second, still not looking into mine.

“My pleasure.” He responded.

I removed my headphones, and shoved them deep in my jean pocket. We sat in near silence for a bit.

Is this truly as awkward as I’m making it out to be? Am I making it that way? Does he feel it too?

“So what movies are you lookin’ for?” he continued.

“Nothin’ really.” I said.

His eyebrows twitched together in confusion and he turned the radio down a bit.

“Your dad said you liked movies n all that stuff.”

Shoot me, shoot me now.

“I dunno, I’ve always loved film and been interested in the process of making them and actors and stuff like that. But I’ve never particularly liked a certain genre. I’ll watch anything. Though, I do have a movie bucket list-“ I rambled — a nervous habit of mine.

Mr. Miller didn’t seem to mind, only nodding his head when appropriate.

“You sure do talk a lot, don’t ya’?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I’m only jokin’ kid.” he spoke with a small smile.

୨♡୧

His house was surprisingly clean. I suppose there’s not much for him to do at home with Sarah gone. It had begun to get dark out, but the low afternoon sun shined through his tan sheer curtains, leaving a warm glow on all the furniture. I sat comfortably on a worn-out, beige sofa, while Joel went to grab some old boxes. Some old show I thought to be Dawsons Creek quietly played in the background.

When he returned, he plopped down two shoe boxes — filled to the brim — with DVDs. I began to take some off the top and spread them across the large wooden coffee table to get a better look. Mr. Miller stood awkwardly at the edge of the couch, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs.

“Hey, you can go shower or whatever. I know you just got back from work.” I spoke.

“Ya’ sure?” he asked in response.

“Yea, I’m good here.” I reassured.

As I flipped over discs, getting a good look at all the covers, I started three piles: to watch, already seen, and donate.

About fifteen minutes later, my mind began to wonder about things I couldn’t quite remember. Like, where does Joel work again? Obviously someplace dirty, a mechanic, maybe? As well as, how obvious was my crush on him in high school? I wonder if he knew. I cringed just thinking of it.

I didn’t have much luck with the movies, deciding to watch only four. The Dark Knight, considering my dad’s going to watch with me and I can’t bore him entirely. Scream, a horror classic, and a must-watch (I’ve been told). Edward ScissorHands - my favorite, and BeetleJuice.

While checking my phone a while later, I found a text from my dad.

“Should be back to pick you up at 8:00.”

Realizing how much time I have, and considering how indescribably bored I was, I went to look for Mr. Miller.

The now unfamiliar house was like a maze to me. It was also way bigger than I remembered. After searching for a couple minutes, I found big sliding glass doors in the kitchen, leading to what I assumed was the backyard.

Peering through, I saw broad shoulders — covered by a thin gray t-shirt — and a head full of dark, wet curls, surrounded by smoke.

I slipped through the door, and quietly tip-toed to a cheap fold-out chair beside him. I'm sure my footsteps were audible, but he didn’t seem to hear them. Maybe he’s older than I thought. His head lifted to look at me once I was finally in sight.

I felt much more comfortable now than I had earlier. Maybe it was our surroundings, the cool glow from the rising moon and smokey air wrapping a bubble around us, separating me from the world.

Joel was sat resting his arm on his knee, and his right hand held a lit half-smoked joint. He wore a loose t-shirt, ragged sweatpants, and a pair of house shoes.

His round brown eyes then locked with mine.

“Don’t even think ‘bout it.” He spoke suddenly, turning away again while bringing the pre-roll to his lips and inhaling slowly.

“Come on, please.” I exaggerated.

“No, no. I’m not letting your dad come pick ya’ up from my house with you being high off your mind.” He spoke sternly, thick white smoke coming from his nose.

“You truly think so little of me? I’m not a kid, I’ve built tolerance Joel.” and yet I felt like a kid speaking it aloud.

He looked at me with an unreadable expression, almost amused — and I realized that was probably the first time I’ve ever called him Joel in my life.

“Come on.” I said, reaching my hand across the space between our chairs and wiggling my fingers at him.

He let out a small annoyed huff, but I saw the smirk on his face when he shoved it in between my fingers.

I flashed an emphasized smile at him jokingly.

“Thanks, Mr. Miller.” I said, laughing to myself, then raising the joint to my lips.

“Well don’t ya’ go back to that now.” He spoke, grinning.

The smoke in my mouth came out in a splutter when I laughed. He chuckled at that.

“Okay, Joel.” I said after a minute, the tip glowing as I drew in another deep inhale and then passed it back to him.

The air around continued getting smoggier, no matter the crisp night wind. We sat in a comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth. After a while, I denied it when he tried to pass it back. I’d never admit it, but he was right. I started to feel it, I guess my tolerance faded a little over the past month or so since I smoked last.

Though, I think he knew. According to that twisted smirk on his lips when I shook my head no at him.

That’s when I really realized what Joel was wearing — or the lack of what he should be wearing.

“Hey.” I spoke.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response.

It took me a minute to answer.

It’s late January, the coldest time of the year in Texas. And here he is, sitting outside at night — with wet hair — without a jacket on.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, i’m not cold.” he spoke sternly.

“Yea you are.” I responded quickly, shimmying my jacket down my shoulders and throwing it his way.

He caught it briskly. “Kid, look at me.”

So I did. He held the jacket up by the arms, displaying it.

“You think this’ll fit me?” he asked.

I hummed and squinted my eyes, thinking of an answer.

“No kid, that was rhetorical.” he continued.

“Joel, look at me.” I mocked, and he listened.

I took his face in my hands, smooshing his cheeks in a little. “Not a kid.” I continued.

“Yea ya’ are.” he said, standing.

He pulled me up with him and led me inside. God i’m acting so fucking weird, my dad will surely hear about this. How strong is this weed? How high is his tolerance, I wondered.

Once we got inside he led me straight to the couch. We sat, a lot closer than we did outside or in the car this afternoon. I showed off my DVD piles and eventually just layed back.

Joel watched whatever was on, and we were silent — for a while.

He looked so different from the Mr. Miller I knew. Out of his work clothes, damp hair, legs spread wide with his arm propped up behind his head. He looked peaceful, almost attractive.

“Ya’know…” I started.

“Oh, here we go.” Interrupted Joel.

“In high school, like a billion years ago, I had the biggest fattest crush on you.” I emphasized.

I tilted my head low and looked up at him through my lashes, jokingly smirking. He stared at me for a long time, though I was too out of it to understand why.

“Yea, I know.” He said.

“I remember you always wore too tight shirts, and you’d be covered in grime like you were in some old porno movie set at a construction sight.”

I yelped.

“Construction! That’s it, you’re a contractor.” I pointed a finger at him accusingly.

“Guilty?” he spoke. “Ya’know what I remember about you?”

I hummed in response.

“You were always by yourself. Even at the barbecues n pool party’s. You didn’t seem to like to be around anyone, not even your dad. You were so distinctive, always yourself. Ya’ had your own kinda style or whatever and didn’t seem to care what others thought. Always in another world.” he continued.

What he described couldn’t be any more different than me. It sounded like what I wished I was.

“I don’t care for anyone here.” I spoke.

He took a second to respond. “Then why’d you come back?”

“…It’s my town.” I whispered, before drifting off.

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #the last of us #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel x reader #need that #dbf!joel #cordyceps

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kudzushadow · 2 years ago

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I think that, in a lot of ways, Harley Quinn s4 is mirroring the plot of s1 but with Ivy this time.

In season one, Harley was still chasing after Joker. She was so focused on him and what she wanted that she sort of forgot about everyone else. She didn't show up to help Ivy with her plan, she didn't help Clayface and the others out with the Bane thing, and she was just overall a pretty shitty friend until Ivy pointed it out.

Then we've got the statue, which symbolizes the old her, who she thought she was and wanted to be. She destroyed it after seeing the error in her ways and promised to do better, which she did.

This season, we've got Ivy so wrapped up in the Legion of Doom and what SHE thinks she wants that she's doing exactly what Harley did in s1 and forgetting that other people exist. Frank pointed it out! I think that Ivy is so focused on being such a big "villain" because she misses Harley and that part of her. She needs all this approval and validation from everyone else because the one person whose opinion she cared about is gone.

This is sort of where the statue metaphor comes in... she's trying so hard to be someone she's not because she wants approval. She wants validation. She wants what Harley wanted from Joker.

Ivy was the one to save Harley last time, but now it's Harley's turn to save her. Maybe once Harley does Ivy will destroy that statue, destroy the old her. Maybe she'll even become a hero... because honestly, I mean she's hanging out with all of these villains but has she done anything EVIL recently?

As mentioned before, Ivy's taking this route because she misses Harley. When Harley sleepwalks, I don't think it's as much her missing being a villain than it is her missing Ivy. They were so close in s3 and now they've barely exchanged words in s4! I'm a little disappointed in this season so far, but I do hope I'm right and Ivy sees the error in her ways and patches things up with Harley. (Also, let's remember that Ivy never even classified herself as a real villain before this! She's helping the environment!)

anyway this was poorly explained lmk what yall think

#harley quinn #poison ivy #harlivy #harleen quinzel #pamela isley #harley quinn animated series #dc comics #batman #dc

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undeniablymadoka · 1 year ago

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Intro !!! please be nice to me and ill be nice to u

Names: Jade, Jack, Zain, and my legal name but I'm legally not allowed to tell u i run the @a-silly-1ore-acc READ THE INTRO AND WARNINGS (it looks edgy as shit rn so be patient!!!) im a POC (black)

Pronouns: any and all :3 I'm aroace

i draw sometimes !!

*top interest *old interest *i don't know much but its kool interests: computer/mobile/any other device errors, true crime, puella magi madoka magica, girls last tour, IHNMAIMS, All tomorrow, body horror books in general, House of leaves, (not much rn ill find/remember more)

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i don't have any diagnosed reading problems but if u type with special quirks ill take longer to respond (i don't require a translation) maybe autistic???? idk I'm not diagnosed but if I'm on here I might as well be

Did i mention that i like music STOMACH BOOK, femtanyl, Gezebelle Gaburgably, Operation Sodasteal, Nelward, Sasuke Haraguchi, Spellcasting, Ado, The Vanished People, Soddikken, Miski, Rio Romeo, Caravan Palace, Glass Beach, Jhariah, Maretu, Kikuo, 4lung, STYXVII, Will Wood, Club2Toyko (my brother!! go check him out!!!) That Handsome devil, Penelope Scott, Milk in the Microwave, Cricket, and Tyler the Creator!

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MY FRIENDS ARE THE BEST IN THE WORLD @rab1darachn1d -MY DAD !!!! HES THE COOLEST PERSON EVER @mechcanicalmadness -GRANDPA NOX!!!! KOOLEST ROBOT he also runs the @bungostraycreatures go check it out RN!! @remindertoclick <- CLICK EVERY DAY!!!!!

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BYI!! ▷ I'm a minor (if u r over 18 and want to be moots PLZ DONT BE WEIRD or Rabid will hunt u down) ▷ I swear alot and use slurs sometimes (I CAN RECLAIM DW!!!) ▷ i word stuff wrong sometimes :(( lmk and ill try to reword it better!!! ▷ I respond IMMEDITLY if i don't im prolly doing something important or smth

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—DNI—

× basic DNI (transphobes, homophobes, racists)

× THOSE RADQUEERS/ TRANSID (trace, transharmful/harmed, trans[disorders/mental illness]) yall are a strange bunch/neg ^idc about the harmless ones

× Endogenic, willows, tuplas idk much but u make my friend uncomfortable

× ZOOFILES, MAPS, and NECROS ew ew gross gross gross GET AWAY

× COM/PRO/DARKSHIPPERS GROOoooosss

× NSFW only blogs im a minor × ppl who are just shitty to therians, furries, xenogenders just admit ur sad

× pro ed /thinspo what × Radfems and terfs fucking what × Proisreals i hate u guys ◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇ i love u all just dont hurt anyone or urself!!!

#:3 #femtanyl #asexual #intro post #stomach book #puella magi madoka magica #im so tired #hi tumblr

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chronicbloodynoses · 8 months ago

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idk maybe it’s the calm b4 the storm but going from an emotional low to a crazy emotional high??? like idk how to explain it but i just feel so great i feel content with my life like of course there’s always the little things but i just feel like i have such a positive outlook rn and i’m feeling pretty great from it all

(crow from the future. this is a long yap sesh that i typed for like 30 mins. break bc it’s kinda a lot 😜)

maybe it’s the being able to talk to someone, or maybe it’s the feeling set in my friendships, or maybe finding out how an old friend actually thought about me, but i’m just really happy rn???? idk maybe i can send some form of happiness or positivity to you guys????

no matter where you are, no chaos can remain in chaos. whether you’re in or out of school, everything is always changing. you can take the steps needed to make changes, but when you’re helpless, the world still will change. do you think that this will still be happening in a year? or maybe two years? if you think about how you were then, you can see a change. but if you think about it, the change wasn’t truly “noticeable” you can never know something until it’s over, and you’re out. you can’t see the change as it happens, but you can look back and reflect on it. does any of this make sense? maybe you need to just do drugs that aren’t harmful. today in english we watched vaping videos and all that because it’s red ribbon week. idk if i mentioned it b4, but i was vaping a little bit socially before, but i really don’t want to create a habit like that. i’m happy with my edibles, and that’s that. if you notice an addiction, i think you should quit cold turkey as soon as you can, but if you know yourself, then why not, yknow? that is, for what i consider harmless at least. i don’t think i’ve ever heard of a weed death, unless in the form of an overdose but that goes for anything. i think you should do what makes you happy and stay safe when you do it, yknow? know yourself limits and prioritise your responsibilities over having fun. #besafe #dontkillyourself #dontgetaddictedtodrugs #dontgethealthshiz yeah idk my whole thing w this nothing burger ass post (bc yall know i cannot stop yapping) but im feeling good and hopefully you guys are also feeling good and having fun and being safe in anything that you do. i’m also tired. i also just got recommended my kinda ex? but def ex friend, on tiktok. my first kinda partner but we were friends b4 and it was online and we dated for a week b4 they broke up with me, which i was super happy about bc almost instantly i realised i was NOT into them in that way, and kinda funny so when they wanted to get back together a couple days later, i was a big stupid FART who couldn’t tell people things (in the past, im better now) and so i basically told them that i only am in love with dead people. the deceased. they asked in a very indirect way and i basically just redirected each part to dead people. yeah uh yknow more yap fest my dream last night will go here too. paragraph break!

so my dream last night was not JUST a dream. it was a nightmare and kinda a stupid one but my worst nightmares lately all have to do w this. so my computer had a virus LOL and it was like?? through xbox??? and it was pissibg me off and it opened up like 500 tabs of all minecraft over and over again and my computer is like TWEAKING and i try to open up malwarebytes and instead of my usual thing it gives me this shitty fake error basically saying “this version doesn’t work anymore, sorry! click the link below to download the new version!” and i’m like FUCK my computer has a BAD VIRUS and it’s duplicating all my things and overloading my computer and then i’m like okay. i gotta go to malwarebytes and then the actual download to a REAL version. and im struggling to type it and then when i do it and i click the link, its a fake website, and i go back and find the real one. it redirects me to roblox. and i’m like????????? and i go back to get out of roblox and it gives me a short pop up b4 sending me back to roblox saying “windows error” so im like FUCK. THIS BITCH BLOCKED MALWAREBYTES. and i’m thinking and i decide i need to get a flash drive, download malware bytes on it, and use it from there and then my alarm goes off

also little bonus so i wake up at 6, and i basically just relax and hang out in my bed and wake up til 6:30, but sometimes i fall asleep again which is when this dream took place, but b4 i fell asleep i was watching community and so im my dream i hear it and im like watching it on my phone while im dealing w the virus and im comprehending everything (ive already watched community like 3 times, i KNOW these episodes so its not like i watched a new one in my sleep, i was just hearing it while i slept and it made its way in) and then when i woke up from my “alarm” 6+7 i have that one song from south park playing (from night of the living homeless. i get woken up by cartman singing abt the homeless. and i chose this fate.) and 6:30 it’s just a vvvrrr vvvrrrrrrr so in case i sleep through 1+2 i have 3 to wake me OR to give me a checkpoint for getting ready (i leave ~7:30)

little bit sad bc my wife just called and she’s not gonna b there tomorrow probably BUT i know she’s BEEN needing a break day so im happy that she’s able to +allowed to have a break from school and everything and be able to catch up on schoolwork

anyway’ i should prob go to bed ive been typing and yapping for the past likeeee at LEAST 30 mins just bc i could just type my every through literally forever but that doesn’t mean i SHOULD! uhhh yeah GOODNIGHT GUYS! GOODNIGHT TO THE LIKE. 5 OF YOU. I HEART YOU! THANKS FOR GETTING THIS FAR AND HEARING MY YAPPING!

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ameonds-dragonn · 3 years ago

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Modern hotd au- Getting together with Aemond

Warnings: mentions of past relationships, cheating/abuse mentioned, Aegon(yes!), fem fingering, height differences, protective Helana, shitty family(?)

A/n: my Google doc messed up so I apologize if I missed any grammar or spelling errors. I went over it three times and I was getting a headache finishing this up 💗

You met Helana in English class in college, she was a little weird but nothing you couldn’t handle. You were the oldest sibling and the black sheep. She told you her love for bugs and other animals. Her family, her vinyl collection. You got your soulmate of a best friend that day.

Your family was miles and miles away from campus, it was summer break. You didn’t have money to fly home and didn’t want to deal with your family anyways. Helena told you her mother invited you over for the summer. “Y/n, you’re coming with me. We have the room, believe me”

“Hel, I’ll be fine here. I’ll come visit” you stubbed up

“Hey Helen! Your bags packed?” A tall blond stood at your door

“Yes and throw Y/n over your shoulder” Helana smiled

“God, you’re a brat Hel. I’ll go” I sighed

Helena went to get our bags, leaving me and her brother alone.

“So are you Aegon?” I asked, feeling the tension grow

“No no. I’m Aemond” He grinned

“Sorry, Hel never showed me pictures of you guys” I blushed

“It’s okay, love”

You guys pulled up the mansion, it was like a castle almost. Hel was fucking rich rich.

Their mother, Alicent, rushed out the door. Hugging Helena, “Oh my sweet girl. I missed you so much!”

“Missed you too, Mom” she grinned

I stood there, not sure what to do or say

“You must be Y/n. I’ve heard so much about you” Alicent pulled me into a hug

“Yes. I hope all good things, Mrs. Targaryen” I smiled, as she let go

“Call me Alicent or mom, please. Makes me feel old” she smiled

“Of course” I gave a small smile

Ameond smiled as took the bags in

“Aemond, I can take my bags in myself” I said as he walked inside.

“Criston, can you show Y/n her room?” Alicent asked a dark headed man. He was really pretty, like exotic beauty.

“Of course. Need me to get your bag, love?” Criston asked me

“Huh. Oh no I’m good” I said

Criston showed me my room

“Helana’s room is the fourth one down on right, bathroom is across the hall. Aemond is on your right, Aegon is on down the hall to far left”

“Thank you, Criston” I nodded as he left

Helana walked in after, “Hey beautiful!”

“Hi babe, nice place you got” I grinned

“Thank you! I was wondering if you were up for a swim or we can sun tan. Well I’ll

mostly burn” She smiled

“Makes both of us, I’m from the North remember” I nudged her lightly

“Did you bring any swimsuits? I have some or Mom wouldn’t mind you borrowing one”

“I have some from spring break, Helly”

Helana was in the kitchen, in her bathing suit. Her mother was looking at a cookbook, Aemond was pouring a drink. Another blonde guy was sitting at the bar.

“Oh there you are!” Helana said, sitting her cup in the sink.

Aemond and her other brother were frozen, well Aemond was. Her brother stood up

“I forgot Helana was bringing a friend over. I’m Aegon and your name, gorgeous?” Aegon stood in front of me, smiling.

“Y/n, and you’re not her type, Aeg” Helana dragged me with her

“Sorry about my dumb older brother” Helana said

“It’s okay, I’m used to it. How do you know my type?” I asked

“Well I mean I’ve seen the guys you brought around. And I was saving you from him and his perv tendencies” Helana folded her towel out

“Right. Thanks”

We were floating around, blasting music. I know it probably pissed Alicent off. Helana was belting out to Warrants cherry pie.

“You kinda look like Janie” I giggled as I seen Aemond walking towards us. I straightened my top and laid more attractive.

He had a couple plates in his hands, Aegon was walking with cups. “What are you doing? I was coming back for the drinks” Aemond looked at his brother.

“Getting laid” Aegon smirked

“Oh thanks guys” Helana said, jumping off her float.

I trailed behind her, still nervous being here and everyone looking at me with awe. “Come on, Y/n”

“Playboy, huh?” Aegon smirked

“What? Oh yeah” I sat down, pulling my towel around my body. Aemond tried seeing what his brother was talking about.

Aemond grabbed Aegon by his hood and dragged him along, “Enjoy”

“Is Aegon like this with all your friends?” I asked, drinking the water.

“You’re my only friend, remember? And he’s like this with women in general” Helana replied.

Alicent had a huge dinner made for our arrival, and invited their older sister and their nephews. It made me even more nervous, more people watching me eat. Helana was blow drying her hair, “You think I could get close to this color?” I grinned.

“Can’t get this in a bottle, boo” She shot back

“Okay so Rhaenyra is my dad’s daughter from another marriage. Her and mom are good friends, well after Aemond was born they became friends again. Jace is the oldest one, he’s 17, Luke is 14, Joffrey is 10. Uncle Harwin is back in town too and Uncle Daemon and his girls are coming too” Helana said

“How big is your family?” I laughed.

“That’s just my fathers side, I think my grandfather is coming too”

“Yay! We stan peepaw Otto in this house, wish he was cooking” I cheered. “I know, his cooking is out of this world”

“Kids come down!” Alicent yelled

Otto, Visreys, Alicent, I assumed Rhaenyra and her husband stood at the doorway. “Oh Nrya! This is Y/n, Helana’s best friend from

school” Alicent smiled

“Hello Y/n, you look lovely in that dress” Rhaenyra smiled and kissed my cheek.

“Thank you! You look lovely yourself, but you’re a model so that’s natural” I blushed.

She smiled, “You know my work?”

“Yeah, you were my favorite supermodel growing up. Still are, miss seeing you walk” I replied.

“Thank you, Y/n. This is my husband, Harwin”

“Hi Y/n” Harwin shook my hand

Nrya introduced me to her boys before I went to say hi to Otto.

“Hi darling! How are you?” Otto grinned and pulled me into a hug

“Hi Papaw. I’m need for your famous soup again” I grinned

“Oh it’s not that good, kid”

“Please! It brought me back from the dead after I got frat flu” I smiled.

We made it to the dining room, the table was 6ft long and chairs were miles long. I sat between Helana and Aemond, Aegon gave Aemond a nasty look. The cook brought out the food as we talked. “You look really pretty tonight,” Aemond whispered.

“Thank you” I blushed, looking in my lap

“Don’t be shy. I’m not that mean” Aemond joked

“There’s ten new people here and I’m in a different house. Of course, I’m gonna be shy and nervous” I spat back.

“Don’t be. They’re gonna talk for hours and forget us kids are even here” Aemond patted my hand that was on the armrest.

I smiled, slowly getting used to the tall blond.

“Y/n, honey! What’s your major again?” Alicent smiled.

“Civil engineering” I smiled back

Everyone looked at me

“She is more than just beauty ?” Helana said, taking everyone off of me. Thank you my sweet friend! You’re an Angel!

After dinner, the adults went into the living room, chatting randomly. Aegon left after dinner, Helana went to go change and show Balea something in her room. I just stood in the doorway, lost.

“You want to go outside with me?” Aemond asked, brushing a hand over my shoulder

“Sure”

“Did Hel tell you about Vhgar?” Aemond asked

“Yes, the dog you ‘stole’ from the shelter?” I giggled.

“She was gonna be put down, I wanted to give her a good rest of her life” Aemond said, offended.

“Well, I find it sweet. You took her to enjoy her last days” I smiled

“She is still raising hell. She was just depressed at the shelter” Aemond smirked

“Is that where you’re taking me?”

He nodded

Vghar was sleeping as we approached, she sniffed some. “Vghar” Aemond whispered

“Hey, you hungry? I know you are” Aemond crouched down, rubbing her head. Vghar woke up to the mention of food. Aemond had snuck some leftovers, before we went out. I smiled at them, he really loved the old Great Dane. It was sweet. “Helana brought a friend home for the summer” He patted her side as he stood up. He gave me come either moniton. Vghar was done with her dinner, looking up at Aemond.

“Vghar, this is Y/n. Y/n, Vghar” Aemond smiled.

“Hi Vghar” I smiled, letting her sniff my hand.

She stuck her paw up for me to shake back

“You are the cutest, honey. Yeah, so pretty” I giggled, talking to her in a baby voice. I heard Aemond stifled a laugh. “Wanna come sleep with me? Huh?” I rubbed her ears. A loud rumble of a car came down the driveway. Aemond rolled his eyes, Vghar growled. “I take she don’t like Aegon” I asked

“No, he doesn't like her either” Aemond replied, fixing his jacket.

“Hey gorgeous! Miss me?” He winked as he shut his door

“Not in the slightest” I shot back

Aegon rolled his eyes and went into the house.

Two weeks later

Helana and Alicent went into town for some stuff for the house. I woke up with a migraine so I stayed behind. It was 8:15am when I walked into the hall. It was quiet, Visreys was at work, the other girls were gone. Aegon dont wake up until 2pm. Wonder where Aemond is.

I heard rock music as I walked down the stairs. It was coming from the basement, so I opened the door to the basement. Even the basement is nice and shit. Aemond was shirtless, hair was pulled away from his face. He was bench pressing not realizing he had an audience.

He finally noticed me there

“Hey you need something?” He laid the bars on the rack.

“No, just woke up. Helana went with your mom” I shook my head

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Migraine” I replied

“Did my music wake you? I’m sorry” Aemond walked over to me

“No no. I couldn’t sleep anymore, you didn’t I promise” I smiled

“I’m gonna shower, I need to run into town. Wanna come with?” Aemond asked

“To town or the shower?” I smirked

Aemond blushed at what I said

“To uh town”

I watched him run up the stairs, he shut the door behind him and I heard him run more. I laughed. He is gonna be fun to mess with.

I took a shower as well, it helped my migraine too. Helana told me i could use anything I need, now realizing I forgot my hair dryer back at our campus apartment. Thank god for Hel and her kindness.

Aemond knocked on the door, I grinned.

“Come in” I said putting mascara on

“Wow. You ready?” Aemond asked, looking me up and down.

I giggled, passing by him. Aemond slowly trailed behind me.

Aemond opened the door to a pagan store. I knew Helana was into witchcraft but Aemond? Well he is mysterious.

I was looking at rack of clothes they had, a little past the register. A tall dark headed guy was talking to Aemond. “Well, don’t you have a type. She’s cute” I heard the dark haired one say.

“What? No, she's my sister’s friend. I didn’t want her alone with Aegon waking up soon” Ameond replied.

“Yeah and she looks like Alys by the way” the guy laughed.

Aemond watched the guy walk into the back of the store. He looked offended. He flicked his gaze to me, “Did you find something?”

“Oh no” I shook my head

“Let’s go then”, Aemond walked to the door, holding it open for me. We walked down the strip, Aemond was quiet. I knew who Alys was and what she looked like. Helana showed me after they broke up. Apparently Alys had been cheating on Aemond. Aemond was heartbroken, he really loved her.

She was a dark hair beauty, I had to admit she was gorgeous but I wasnt her twin. The guy had to be stoned or something. I finally broke the tension around us.

“You good?”

“Yeah, why?” Aemond sighed

“No reason” I decided to leave him alone and cross my arms over my chest as we walked more.

We were driving back to his house, when he spoke again.

“Sorry about Nikki”

“Who?” I looked at him

“Guy at the store this morning. I’m not sure if you heard him but he was kinda talking about you. It wasn’t nice okay” Aemond said

I giggled, “Not the first, a guy has been a prev to me”

“Even so. He’s an asshole” Aemond said, shutting off his car

Helana and Alicent were back, looks like Aegon was home, or at least waking up.

“Hey, I had a good time. Thanks for bringing me along” I smiled at Aemond

“No problem” He nodded before hugging Alicent.

“Oh thank you, son. I forgot about this today” Alicent kissed his cheek.

I seen Helana outside at the garden

“Hey you” I smiled, sitting down next to her

“Hi. Did you have a good date with Aemond?” Helana asked.

“It wasn’t a date. He kinda ignored me after we left the witch store” i replied, laying my head on her shoulder.

“Why did he do that?”

“I overheard the dude at the register, talking about how Aemond has a type and I look similar to Alys. He got pissed and we left. We got coffee and he paid. But it was quiet until we got into the driveway.” I scoffed. I started feeling offended he was being a prick

“He’s stupid. It’s been a year since he dumped her, and you are way prettier than Alys. Mom didn’t like her and she likes everyone” Helana said, grabbing her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked

“Chewing my brother out”

“STOP! It’s fine” I tried getting her phone from her but she got up.

“Helana, seriously. Stop, I don’t want him knowing he made me feel shitty” I sighed

She hit the delete button and showed me she had deleted it.

“He does something stupid again I’ll kill this time” Helana said

It was dinner time, this time it was just Alicent and the kids. This time I sat next to Aegon and Helana’s left side. “Well hi there, did my brother bore you today?” Aegon smirked.

“No, barely talked to me but other than it was fine” I smirked

“Cole, can you get Aemond to come down” Visyres asked

“Awh I’m sorry he neglected you. I’m down the hall if you get lonely” Aegon rubbed his hand on my knee

I giggled

Aemond walked in and sat next to Alicent, in front of me. He looked at Aegon and then me. I raised my eyebrow at him, looking at him.

“I’ve failed as your big brother, Aem. I would have amused treating a lady would have come naturally to you. Here’s rule number four, when you take a girl out. You have to talk to her and knowledge her too” Aegon smirked, moving his hand up my leg. Making sure Aemond saw his hand move up my thigh more. I wanted to make him jealous, not pissed and thinking I’m a slut.

“Aegon, leave your brother alone” Visyres said

Aegon laughed, smirking at his brother

Helana was talking to me about this bug she seen on a documentary she watched while I was out. I forgot about Aegon and his hands.

“They can have 1000 to 8000 eggs each birth they have. It’s weird how they give birth” Helana continued

Aegon slipped his hand between my thigh, not thinking about it I opened my legs more out of instinct. I reached for my cup as he rubbed the outside of my panties. I choked as he slid my panties to the side.

“You alright, darling?” Alicent looked at me

“Yeah, went down the wrong way” I gave her a small smile

I reached under the table, to remove Aegon’s hand away from me. He smirked, grazing my thigh one last time. Aemond looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Mom, can I be excused?”

“Sure, honey. You feeling okay?” Alicent asked

“Just a headache” Aemond walked out of the dining room

Helana asked to be excused so I followed her not wanting to be left alone with Aegon again.

I excused myself to get a drink and Helana a cup of ice. I had paws walking around.

Probably Sunfyre or Dream messing around

“Vghar, sit still” Aemond spoke

Shit! Go back! Helana will wonder where her ice is, be a big girl. Just ignore him and run back.

I walked in, seeing Vghar wagging her tail. “Hi pretty girl” I petted her. She didn’t deserve to be ignored even though her own was kinda a dick

“Was having Aegon fingering you at dinner fun?” Aemond spat

“Didn’t think you saw what happened past my eyes. Considering you were trying to burn my head” I scoffed, pouring myself some juice.

“I watched his hand slowly go down your back and your legs. Didn’t think a engineering major would act so stupid?” Aemond shot back

“Why do you care who I let into my pants? Why did you blow me off after that dude mentioned Alys? I heard him Aemond, he wasn’t being a jerk” I scoffed, pushing by him.

“Maybe because I love you and don’t want my brother’s nasty fingers on you. And don’t talk about her like you know her. You only know her because Helana” Aemond grabbed my arm, jeering me closer to him.

I jerked my arm back, “Quit! Sorry I made you mad” I whined.

Aemond let go and looked like I had burnt him. “Who hit you, Y/n?”

I shook my head

“Y/n, don’t make me go ask Helana. You know she’ll tell me” Aemond spoke softly

“Fine. My ex. Can I go now?” I sighed

“Which one?”

“Why you only know them because of Helana” I pushed pass him again and walked upstairs

“Did you get lost?” Helana giggled as she scrolled through Netflix.

“No, I ran into Aemond” I shut the door behind me.

A few hours later, Helana passed out. She had me pinned and I was trying to get away without waking her.

I walked to room when someone jerked me into their room, I screamed but they had their on my mouth.

“Shh, it’s me” I heard Aemond whisper

“What do you want? Scared me half to death” I sighed

“I’m sorry for today and in the kitchen earlier” Aemond said, looking down at me.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Aegon touch me tonight” I said, grabbing his hand

“If he touches you again, I’ll beat his ass. Just let me know, okay, Princess?” Aemond whispered.

He looked really pretty right now. His lips looked so good

“Can I kiss you? If you want” Aemond brushed a piece of my hair out of my face

I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him

“You talk too much”

Aemond laughed

We kissed for a while, Aemond suggested a movie after. I was exhausted from today and everything that happened I feel asleep

It was morning, i could feel the light coming through his curtains. I laid my head on his chest, rubbing my finger down his chest. Aemond pulled me into his side, settling back down.

“Aemond! Wake up” Daeron said

Aemond shot up, making me fall into the bed “What is it, D?”

“Breakfast. Aren’t you supposed to be in your own room?” Dareon smiled at the scene

“Get out” Aemond threw a pillow at the teenager.

“You okay?” Aemond turned his head at me

“I’m good” I laid my chin on his shoulder

“Y/n?” Aemond asked

“Mhmm” I hummed, twisting a piece of his hair

“Are you seeing anyone?” Aemond grabbed my hand

“No, why?” I looked at him

“Cause I want you to be my girlfriend” Aemond said

“Okay” i replied, smiling

“So?”

“So what?”

“Yes or no? Don’t leave me hanging, Doll!” Aemond smirked

“Ask me the right way” I looked up at from his shoulder.

“Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” Aemond rubbed his hand down my back

“Of course, I will. Now let me go shower”, I kissed his cheek

I walked downstairs to the dining room. Aegon was actually awake and smiled as I walked in. I sat were Aemond sat last night, Aegon furrowed his eyebrows.

Helana was on her phone, too engrossed to realize I was there. Aemond walked in greeting Helana, he kissed my head. Aegon groaned. “Good morning, kids” Alicent smiled as she sat down.

Aemond scotted the chair closer to him. Making Aegon foam at the mouth as he watched us.

“Finally” Helana mouthed to me

Aemond must have noticed his sister mouthing me, he smirked at her.

#modern hotd au #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon

211 notes · View notes

trash-gobby · 4 years ago

Note

Hiiiii, could I request some Nelson wright x female reader (or gn reader) in which they meet at like a house party and reader is on a totally different career path (like something creative) and nelson is justo head over heels immediately?

A Night To Remember

Pairings: Nelson Wright X AFAB!Reader

Characters: Nelson Wright, Reader, David Labraccio, Rachel Mannus, Randy Steckle, Joe Hurley, Readers Best Friend, Reader's BFF's Boyfriend, Original Characters

A/N: Sorry this took so long (I feel like I'm apologizing a lot for my long periods between posting). I got a serious case of writer's block, so I had to take breaks and keep coming back over time to look at this haha. Got it done though! Hopefully you enjoy, and thanks again for sending in this request Anon! Also as a side-note, I am the king of not proofreading because I get anxiety reading back my own writing for some reason. Don't ask me it's totally stupid, but if there are any errors please let me know.

Reader Pronouns = She/They

RATING: PG

⚠️Warning!: None.

Word Count: 4.9K

Multi-POV

You almost considered not going to the party. It wouldn’t have been the first time you skipped an event like this. You were much to interested in building your portfolio of work then socializing, especially when the new year was imminent and your graduation not long after. The long nights of mulling over your work, setting up dates for shoots, and writing papers revolving around your piece’s significance to the photographic world.

However, your friend had begged that you attend this little get-together, stating you had barely been out of the house for most of the semester, not even for any holiday celebrations. They promised it would just be a small group of final year students from the university your attending and some of their boyfriend’s fellow doctoral students from the nearby medical science college. After declining multiple times until they begged you to come because it wouldn’t be fun without you, something you sincerely thought was untrue, you accepted.

Now you were getting of the dinky old bus, and preparing to walk the two blocks to your friends apartment. You shuddered as a shiver ran up your spine from the cold December chill. Wrapping your jacket tighter around your body, you picked up the pace, avoiding the slush which had coagulated in the potholes and dips in the sidewalk. Chicago winter was killer, sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d survived it in the shitty apartment you had. The air conditioner barely worked and the heater had crapped out, and your landlord was to lazy to come and actually fix it.

Your musing eventually lead you to the brightly lit red-brick brick house which your friend rented out, with its shabby window frames and partially broken eavestrough. They probably couldn’t afford to get their shit fixed either, you chuckled to yourself under your breath as you made your way up the stone steps to knock on the front door.

Before you could even wrap your knuckles on the wood, the door swung open and a man with short brown hair in a black coat stumbled onto the front step nearly knocking you over. He noticed you last minute and was able to pivot out of the way.

“Heh, sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s alright, you just surprised me that’s all.”

“Your Y/N right?” The man said giving you a sheepish grin, which was both very charming and attractive. He clearly quite practiced at giving these looks, as his clean-cut and handsome nature gave to you.

“I’m Joe, Joe Hurley,” he extended his hand to you, “Y/F’s boyfriend mentioned you were a close friend of theirs, both in the photography course.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You responded, taking his hand in yours and shaking.

“Who’s letting in the draft?” Y/F appeared at the door sporting a very festive looking sweater. Once they saw you standing in the doorway, they pushed past Joe, embracing you in a hug.

“I am so glad you came! I almost thought you weren’t going to make it,” They said, leading you into the house.

“Glad to know you have so much confidence in me,” You replied, earning a playful punch to the shoulder.

“I’m gonna go pick up the extra wine you asked for, since we both know Ruth and Stanley are gonna drink everyone under the table,” Joe closed the door behind him as he left, shutting out the frost and the lightly falling snow that had just begun.

“They haven’t arrived yet, but the med students are here. They showed up pretty early. Guess that’s what you expect from people who get in deeper shit then we do for being late. It’s a pretty prestigious place.” Y/F leads you into the kitchen where you can see a pretty large whole chicken baking in the oven, and an assortment of pots and pans cooking on the stove. The counters are littered with a variety of spices and veggies in various stages of being chopped up. It’s a complete mess, but you know your friends always been prone to these episodes of controlled chaos, that’s how they created their best art. That meant the food was most likely going to be divine.

“Smells good in here.”

“Thanks, I try. We’ll just have to see if it smells as good as it tastes.”

Y/F starts in on cutting some broccoli into smaller more manageable chunks with a comically large knife.

"You should head into the living room, get to know the rest of the gang here tonight," Before you could protest that you'd prefer to help out in the kitchen then mingle with a bunch of strangers, Y/F pushes a large bottle of red wine into your hands.

"Can you also bring this into the living room for the others, thank you!" once again you couldn't even get a word in edgewise. Not unusual for Y/F, who was always the more forceful of the two of you.

As you exit the kitchen, bottle in hand, you call out "By the way that sweater is ridiculous, it's not even December yet."

Taking slow steps down the narrow hallway was your way of prolonging the inevitable awkward introductions you’d have to make to a room full of strangers. You stopped in front of a framed picture sitting slightly tilted on its hinge. The photo itself made you smile, an old picture of you, Y/F, their boyfriend, and two of your high school friends. You’d all decided to go backpacking through Europe as one last adventure before heading to university, college or trades school. The memories of that trip washed over you, reminding you of the ease you used to feel around complete strangers, something you had lost with the years of relentless work keeping you away from company. Now the very idea of leaving your dorm room or the familiar confines of the photo lab made you severely anxious. You had to but that behind you, because you had decided to come and there was no going back now.

Straightening the picture frame on it’s nail, you headed to the open double doors to the living-room, pouring its orange light and jovial conversation from inside, and prepared to be an open social member of the party, for however long that lasted.

As you took your first steps into the doorway, you set your eyes upon the scene before you. Two couches sitting opposite each other in the small but cozy room, a squad wooden coffee table which was one of Y/F’s scores from when you and them would go dumpster diving, a lit fireplace, antique bookcase lining one side of the walls, an occupied worse-for-ware easy chair, and a vintage lamp which Y/F had brought back from Budapest with them.

Even more intriguing than the familiar living-room setting was the unfamiliar group of people occupying it. Four strangers, all chatting over nearly empty glasses of wine about what you assumed from what you could hear, were the recent exams they had to taken. The first of the four to notice your appearance was the only other woman present. She had her hair tied back into a ponytail, keeping the brown curls away so you could see her face when she offered you a polite smile. As soon as the woman looked up the others also noticed you standing there quietly, you figured saying something might make it a little less awkward then standing around staring.

“Hey, I’m Y/N, Y/F’s friend, I brought some more wine,” you supplied, taking a few steps into the room and placing the bottle on the coffee table.

“Nice to meet you I’m Rachel, Randy would you move over and make room so she can sit down?” The man name Randy, moved from his seat in the center of the couch, over to one side to make room for you introducing himself as he did.

“Randy Steckle,” He held out his hand, and you shook it whilst placing yourself at a polite distance from him on the couch. Out of all the people here, he was the most smartly dressed in a tweed vest, matching trousers, and dress shirt. He made you feel very underdressed by comparison.

The man on the couch beside Rachel also took this time to introduce himself as David, who was thankfully dressed as casually as you were, making you feel like you were at least not the only one who decided a pair of work jeans and a t-shirt. If you’d known that this had been a more formal or well-dressed occasion you might have invested in something more fancy to wear, not that you owned anything fancy as a broke student. All your money had already gone to either rent, food, or back into university to cover tuition.

“Your Y/F’s friend from school right?” David added as he offered to pour the wine for everyone. An empty glass had already been supplied for you on the table, a mismatched one, but to be fair none of Y/F’s cutlery ever matched. It all came second-hand from thrift stores and antique junk stores.

“Yeah we’re in the same major, Photographic Arts & Media,” you supplied.

“Oh, that’s super cool. What’s work like in that field?”

“Lucrative depending on what kind of work you get into. You guys are all medical students right?”

“Yep, all working towards becoming surgeons,” David took a healthy sip from his glass.

“That must be pretty intense, can’t imagine rooting around in someone’s body, blood freaks me out,” you chuckled, earning a few chuckles from the others.

“I’d definitely say it’s an acquired practice,” Randy added before starting to go in more detail about the surgical specialization in more detail, with both David and Rachel adding to his little speech here and there with some little anecdotes here and there.

Sitting back and listening you could feel the passion they had for their practice despite its morbidity. A lot of the medical jargon did go over your head, and as Randy got into more detail about the exams and scheduled classes they had, the more the whole group fell into what seemed like their typical ingroup banter. It was nice to sit back and watch in pleasant silence as a group of clearly close friends chatting, laughing, and telling each other inside jokes. It reminded you of all the times you’d missed out on with Y/F and your other friends. All the nights where they'd invited you to clubs and on bar crawls that you'd traded out for long nights pouring over art history texts and working in the photo lab under its harsh red light.

However, one person in this group had been completely silent, to the point where you hadn't really registered his gaze. He was leaning far back in the easy chair, dress shirt with it's top two buttons undone, one of his feet in expensive shoes crossed over his knee.

You caught his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. Bright blue eyes, filled with a slight spark to them, whether it was curiousity or something else you weren't sure. His hair short and dirty blonde in colour, clearly he'd gotten it done professionally. He gave you a slight smile and you looked away blushing, you'd been staring for to long.

He picked up his wine glass and brought it to his lips, taking a sip before starting to say something. He was interrupted by Y/F shouting from the kitchen.

"I need an extra set of hands in here to help with this bird!"

You automatically stood preparing to get yourself out of this awkward situation, before Rachel reached out and stopped you.

"You just got here, I’ll go,” she said, coaxing you back into sitting.

“You sure? You just got your glass refilled.”

“I’ll take it with me, don’t worry about it, just relax,” Rachel, got to her feet, taking her wine with her and exited the room calling to Y/F that she was coming to help.

“I think that’s my cue for a bathroom break,” You scooched out of the way, half standing up in order to make space for Randy to get past you.

“Jeez, this is the fourth time you’ve gotten up, you have the bladder the size of a peanut,” David added as he poured himself another glass of red.

Then it was just you, David and the blonde man. There was a long pause where everyone sat in awkward silence, David drinking his wine, you making yourself familiar with thread patterns of the living-room rug. Navy green was such an ugly colour for a carpet.

“So, whats art school like?” David asked, breaking the silence.

You look up and once again you can feel the very intense gaze of the silent blonde man in the easy chair. Deciding against making anymore intense eye contact, you instead settle for looking at the peeling plaster slightly up and to the right of where David is sitting.

"It's stressful, not nearly as stressful as having to perform all your exams on cadavers kind of stressful, but it keeps me busy."

"You mentioned majoring in photo correct?"

"Photographic Arts & Media is the official title, but yes. We mostly have a mixture of hands on photo assignments, art history and a focus on working with new media," You could feel yourself starting to relax as the conversation remained focused on something you could understand and talk about, and David's polite attention was making you feel welcome on some level.

"Hands on, like what kind of projects?" It was the first words you'd heard from the man sitting in the easy chair, and you were taken aback by the smooth and pleasant sound of his voice.

"W-well, I, we," you take a moment to clear your throat and your head before continuing. "We usually have a couple assignments which revolve around various things, what they are is usually quite open when it comes to guidelines. Usually we'll pitch an idea for a project to our professor and if we're given the greenlight, we have to construct a narrative through our images and their subjects."

"Sounds a lot more open ended then anything we do," The man said leaning forward, hands on his knees giving you his full attention.

"I mean it's not surgery, but it can be pretty intense. Especially when it comes to the critiquing period, we all sit outside the photo lab and have to present our either currently in works projects or finalized projects and then we get torn a new asshole by both our profs and the class."

“Doesn’t sound that different from the reaming we get during the rounds we have to do in the surgical ward. Except you have an audience of your whole class and not just those in the same practice. I know that Y/F does things that involve a merging of collage and paint with photo. What do you do? What’s your artistic thing?”

“My artistic thing?” You laughed at his phrasing, and received in return a small smile.

“Eloquently put,” The man chuckled from behind his glass. He had nearly emptied it in the last minute you’d been having your little conversation. David just gave him a look, before shrugging and fishing around in one of the pockets in his sweater, fishing out a box of cigarettes, and a lighter.

“My 'thing' I guess, if you could call it that, is capturing real life stories of working class people. I like using old cameras, running on old film, sometimes even 16mm," You were about to continue when David flicked the lighter, sending up a small spark that died out quickly, reminding you of Todd (Y/F's boyfriend's) rigid rules about smoking in the house.

"I'm sorry you can't smoke in here, Todd's a real stickler about it. He says the smell really gets into the carpet," David examined the cigarette before thinking better of it and placing it back in the pack.

"You can smoke it outside on the front step," You added.

"I might have to do that. I've been dying to get a smoke in all day. Been to busy working. I don't want to interrupt you explanation though."

"It's no problem really, you can go smoke and I'll catch you up on everything when you come back."

"Okay, I'll be back in ten," David smiled sheepishly, looking slightly guilty about needing to take a smoke break from the conversation. He got up and waved to the man sitting in the chair before quickly walking out of the room.

It became very clear to you now that it was just you and this man who had yet to really introduce himself. For a moment there was just silence with a hint of some kind of tension in the room. You couldn't tell what this energy was, just that it made your palms sweat and you skin heat up.

The light of the fireplace gave off a warm glow that overpowered the lamp, bathing you both in a soft orange hue. It made the sharp edges of everything soft, including the man's intense stare, the quirk of his pink bow-shaped lips, the comforting sky blue of his eyes, what it would be like to brush your hands against the cleanly shaved skin on his cheeks.

God don't think about his lips! You don't even know this guy. He's attractive, sure, but you don't know who he is, what he is, or even his name. You can't possibly be thinking these thoughts right now about some strang-

"I'm Nelson by the way," the man, now with a name you could attach to his person.

"I feel rude not introducing myself properly earlier, there was just a lot of stuff going on. Although with that lot," he gestures to the doorway where everyone had exited at some point that night "it's hard to get a word in edgewise."

"It's alright, it's not like I really introduced myself to you either, I'm Y/N," you extend your hand to Nelson across the coffee table and he leans forward to take it. His hands are much softer than you expected them to be, your fingers brush over a scar on the back of one of his knuckles, the only blemish on his skin.

“Y/N, I like the sound of that name, feels like the name of someone who works in something cool like photography.”

“I mean, if you say so. I always thought it was kinda just a generic name, or at least not very artsy. Nelson sounds pretty sciencey though,” you added.

“More like the name of annoying snobby rich kid with to much time on his hands,” he chuckled before picking up his glass from the table, still leaning forward into the conversation the two of you were having.

“I wouldn’t be that cruel,” you said in response.

“I would. Have never really been a huge fan of the name Nelson, but it’s what I’m saddled with, so I make do. The work you mentioned doing, in photography. It sounds really interesting. I’ve never really heard anything like it before.”

You felt suddenly very self-conscious. The way he'd expressed such interest was not something you were used to. Constantly being surrounded in your academic life by other artists working on equally complex and sometimes even more nuanced ideas then you, made the fact that Nelson was so taken by your ideas quite charming.

"I mean it's nothing that special by comparison to what Y/F does visually with eye-capturing colours, but it feels real and visceral to get what's real on camera. I want people to really see the struggle and triumphs of everyday people. I don't want to sugar coat what happens or over-dramatize it. Everyone should see the reality of what the world is like for most working class people."

______________________________________________________________

The animated nature of them as they explained in a clearly passionate manner their inspiration for working in the photography program warmed something deep within Nelson. It reminded him of how he felt when he first entered the surgical field of study. He wished he'd still kept that passion alive like Y/N. It felt like over the years of study, he found the competition more important than the actual thrill of the learning.

The way her face lit up, and the glint in their eyes, made his heart flutter in a way that he hadn't felt since he met Rachel in the first year of their studies. He'd been taken by her passion too.

"Where is everybody?" Nelson and Y/N were startled from their conversation by Joe standing in the living-room doorway.

"I saw David smoking outside, but everyone else?"

"Rachel is helping Y/F in the kitchen, and Randy is taking an obnoxious amount of time in the washroom," Nelson didn't intend for his voice to come out as rankled as it sounded, but he really wanted to have this moment with Y/N to himself. Something about them made him feel oddly intrigued by and greedy for their attention.

"Has he been bragging about his GPA again?" Joe asked with a playful smirk on his face that made Nelson want to smack him upside the head. "He does that a lot. No seriously, I'm not kidding. A loooo-"

"She gets the point, and the answer is no," Nelson sniped back, now being purposefully rather short, but keep at least some edge of playfulness in his demeanor to cover his aggravation.

"And you'd probably also have a higher GPA if your spent more time studying and actually attending lectures than spending quality time with Susan from engineering, or was it Catherine from accounting? I can't seem to remember."

Joe mocked as if Nelson had shot him through the chest with that jab before saying; "Ouch, you really went in on that one."

Nelson was momentarily distracted along with Joe by the soft pleasant laughter from Y/N, who looked bemusedly at both of them.

"Aren't you two supposed to be friends or something?"

"Jury's out on that one," The voice of Randy called out from the hall before appearing next to Joe.

"Just so you know, we were having a really nice conversation about Y/N's future career in photography before you interrupted."

"Photography, cool. Like what kind of photography? Tasteful nude modelling?" It was said playfully, but had an edge of Joe's usual perverse humor and attitude behind it.

"Are naked women all you think about?" Randy asked, with a mixture of purturbedness and exasperation.

"Naked people, I don't discriminate."

"Jesus christ."

Before Joe could answer with a quip or witty retort the sound of Y/F yelling from the kitchen cut through the somewhat awkward and embarrassing conversation. It made Nelson feel slightly self-conscious in a way that he hadn't in a long time. His pride, ego, and ambition usually made sure he kept his cool, but not with Y/N. For some reason this person, who he'd just met, had snagged on something deep and insecure within in him.

"Dinner will be ready soon! Y/N! Please come to the kitchen, I just need a hand with table settings. Also Stanley and Ruth can't make it unfortunately,"

"So much for the wine, guess we'll have to drink it all ourselves," Joe shrugged as he said this, Y/N quickly getting up and excusing herself from the room. Nelson felt almost like getting up and following her, but remained seated. It would be creepy to just follow them around like some kind of lost puppy asking questions and needling them about her life.

"So, she's cute," Joe said leaning back into the hallway to watch her leave before fixing Nelson with a cheeky grin and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Joe," Nelson said levelly.

"Yeah."

"Please stop talking."

______________________________________________________________

The smell was mouthwatering. Y/F had really outdone themselves with the spread they'd made. Everyone had greedily gobbled down the chunky and perfectly seasoned potatoes, glistening juice chicken, the assortments of green beans, brussel sprouts and all manner of vegetables which there were clearly to much of, along with Y/F's legendary stuffing. No one was exactly sure what the full recipe was for it, just that it tasted like heaven in the form of nutty, ginger, fluffy goodness.

The conversation was just as good. Everyone laughing and carrying on. You'd fallen into the conversation quite comfortably and thought at this point that maybe going out tonight was not the worst decision you could have made after all. The good food and even better company definitely helped. Several times throughout the dinner you caught the eyes of Nelson on you, and he'd shoot you a smile that made you'd return, feeling a warmth grow in your chest.

After what seemed like endless hours of eating, talking and drinking, the plates were empty and everyone was quite full.

Y/F rose from her seat and began clearing the table methodically.

"I can help you with those," You said taking the plates from Y/F's hands and continuing around the table clearing the dishes.

"Thank you! I might also need a hand in the kitchen from you and someone else, I hate asking but.."

"I'll help," Nelson raised his hand, getting up from his seat smoothly as not to seem like he was rushing to help.

Y/F ushered him into the kitchen to start on washing the pots and pans while you worked on clearing the table, and they prepared desert.

Once you'd precariously balanced all the dishes on your arms, you slowly made your way to the kitchen entryway. A part of you was strangely excited to have this new person to yourself. Nelson had only really gotten to speak to you alone briefly, but those few minutes were still circling around in your mind, replaying all evening.

As you entered the kitchen Y/F rushed to help you unload the some of the dishes from your arms while thanking you and Nelson profusely for helping with the undertaking.

Set up in the kitchen, you set to helping with the drying and placing of plates back into their designated drawers. Both of you fell into a gentle rhythm of cleaning for a couple minutes, silently working side by side. This close to him, you could smell the slight scent of whatever shampoo he used and a very faint undertone of antiseptic. He must have been working rounds before coming here. It made you wonder why he would want to help with dishes while probably having already have to be on his feet for hours during work.

"You look a little tired, you sure you don't want me to just do the rest on my own?" You suggested lightly.

"No, no it's fine. I don't mind doing dishes, it gives me something mundane to focus on for a while." Nelson handed you a plate at an awkward angle as he said this, causing you to accidentally place your hand over his while taking hold of the dish.

"Sorry, Sorry, my bad," just the touch of his hand sent a spark of something exciting through you. It was such as unexpected jolt of raw attraction that you tried to not drop the dish in your hands, making you smooth recovery look as natural as possible.

"You alright there?" he chuckled in response to your fumbling, something smug about the look on his face.

"Just fine, fine."

"We never did get to finish our conversation from earlier."

"The one where I was nerding out about my personal photographic art style or whatever? I was honestly just rambling." Nelson turns to look at you fully for a moment, his eye contact intense, capturing you off-guard and lighting a small fire inside you.

"I thought what you were talking about sounded really interesting, and something I would love to see when you have your own showing in a gallery one day," you look down to break the intense eye contact, hoping that your blushing would be less obvious.

"Hah, it's definitely a dream of mine to have a showing in a gallery, but I'm a long way from that."

"Not too long I'm guessing."

"That's very kind to say. The only thing close to a gallery that I'll be doing is a section in a gallery-style presentation we're putting on at the university to showcase our thesis projects once they've been completed." Together you had nearly made it to the bottom of the pile of dishes together.

"If your really interested it will be hosted in April. I'd love to see you there," Nelson looked over to you again, having passed the last dish, removing the dish gloves and leaning against the counter.

"I'd love to see that, you should give me more of the details over coffee sometime, where we can talk in a less chaotic setting." Now you absolutely knew for sure he was flirting. Though it hadn't been exactly subtle before, with his intense interested and eye contact.

So why not?

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

The smile on his face was priceless, something between a smirk and a bashful smile. There had been a lot of little looks exchanged by the two of you throughout the night, and you hoped there would be even more to share in the future. Over coffee or maybe lunch.

As Y/F called you both back into the dining room, all you could think was how you were so glad you'd decided to come to dinner that night. It had been one of the best choices you could have made, and you had a feeling you wouldn't regret it.

#nelson wright #nelson wright x reader #flatliners 1990 #flatliners #david labraccio #rachel mannus #randy steckle #joe hurley #kiefer sutherland #kevin bacon #trash gobby requests #trash-gobby requests

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misscaptainamericana · 3 years ago

Text

tis the damn season - andy barber x reader

word count: 1770

warning: defending jacob spoilers, cheating, angst, right person wrong time, mentions of pet death, allusions to smut

The last place you wanted to be was back in Newton but after finding out your husband was cheating on you, you didn’t really have a choice but to move back in with your parents. Rolling over, you saw the dull red light of the alarm clock on the far side of the room reading a quarter past one in the morning. Taking a deep breath, you rolled onto your back with an exhale. This was the ninth night of being at home and each one was full of tossing and turning. You thought it would get easier after the first week but it just got harder. Getting out of bed, you pulled on some sweatpants and snuck out of the house. As your key turned in the ignition you realized how ridiculous this was. A thirty-eight year old sneaking out of their parents house, but honestly this was the most normal thing you’ve probably done this week. Driving around the town you grew up in, you found yourself at the Denny’s on the edge of town.

Walking into the establishment the bell above the door let out a brief chime and the few eyes in the diner glanced in your direction.

“Y/N?” A man at the counter asked in a shaky tone.

You looked at him, blinking a few times to make sure your vision wasn’t playing any tricks on you, “Andy?”

Andrew Barber.

Your highschool sweetheart.

You had dated from the summer of eighth grade all the way through senior year until August when you left for college in New York to pursue your dreams of being on Broadway.

“Jesus christ.” He got up and quickly made his way over to you and pulled you into a hug, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, here specifically? I was hungry and this is the only place open, but back in Newton? Now that’s a longer story.” You rubbed his back with a small smile, “Do you want to sit with me while I eat or are you on your way out?”

He pulled away, “No, no, I can stay. Where do you want to sit?” He asked slowly, pulling away from you and stepping out of your way. You both made your way to a booth on the other side of the Denny's away from the other patrons.

One of the waitresses brought over a set of menus before Andy jogged back to the counter to grab his mug of coffee and jacket before sitting across from you.

Looking up from the menu you gave him a warm smile and he gave one in return before saying, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright…Well, I’ve certainly been better. How about you?”

“About the same.” He said honestly with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah… I heard about everything and I wanted to reach out but it didn’t seem-”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” You gave a sad nod, “I’m sorry, Andy.”

“No, don’t apologize for that. It’s all just… It’s a mess.”

“How is he? Jacob, I mean.”

“He’s okay. Still in a coma, but I don’t think he’ll ever wake up again.” The conversation fell silent as he stared into his mug half full of coffee. Clearing his throat, he shook his head before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry. What happened with you? How’s New York?”

“New York was great.” You let out a sad laugh before redirecting your attention back down to the menu, “Uhm, the first year was a dream, the second year was a lot of trial and error trying to get into a play, third year I finally was a background dancer off broadway and I broke my ankle.”

“Oh…Y/N, I-”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a great moment in my history. But, uhm, long story short, I spent the last few years in Burbank with a really shitty guy and he should be getting served with proper divorce papers shortly.”

“Can I ask what happened between you two?”

You put the menu down and smiled at the waitress coming over, “Yeah, I can tell you. It’s not really some big secret” You paused to order your late night meal and thanked the waitress as she left another mug and the coffee pot so you and Andy could share. “Well, a few weeks ago I came home to my ex husband cheating on me with one of my friends and when she tried to convince me that it wasn’t that bad, she blabbed that he has actually slept with a lot of my friends along with his assistants and secretaries and whoever else. But it’s okay because I’m staying with my parents like any functional adult would.”

Andy laughed, “At least you have good parents to stay with.”

You shrugged, “I guess that’s true. My dad still asks about you.”

“Really? For football?” You nodded with a small smile and he shook his head before looking out the window. “I should’ve went over and saw them more after you left for New York, but after we broke up that summer I just couldn’t… Face them. I knew it was my fault.”

“Why was it your fault?” You asked with your hand reaching across the table to hold his instinctively before quickly recoiling, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” He smiled at you putting his hand out for you to gently hold on to. Andy was always so sweet and patient with you and you loved that about him. He ran his thumb over the knuckles of your hand with a sigh before continuing, “I could’ve went with you to New York, but I didn’t want to leave my mom and the scholarship money was so good. It was selfish.”

“It’s what you wanted to do. We all had dreams back then.”

“And they turned into nightmares.”

You weren’t sure how long you had sat in the Denny’s eating and talking, but after paying Andy decided to walk you to your car. Looking up at him with a shy smile, you bit your lip as he looked down and let out a chuckle, “What?”

“I’m just remembering how good we were together.”

He let out an amused hum before averting his gaze to the parking lot, “Well, that was a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t have to be so long ago…Sounds like we both could use a night of release. A relief from the tension and the stress from the messes we’ve put ourselves in.” You told him as you both slowly stopped at the driver’s side front door of your car.

“That sounds a lot like adultery.”

You shook your head slightly pondering the definition, “That would imply that you still wanted to fix your marriage.”

He sighed, “What other choice do I have?”

“Take me home and we’ll go from there.”

The next morning, you woke up in the bed he had likely shared with his wife once upon a time before the fairytale went wrong. You let out a small yawn before rolling over to face him. He was already awake, but that wasn’t a surprise. Andy always woke up with the sun and it took you a little longer to adjust.

He smirked running his hand over your hip, “I marked you up pretty good, babe.”

“Yeah? I haven’t looked yet.”

“Yeah, you might have to stay here until they go away or your dad’s going to threaten to kick my ass again.”

You let out a loud laugh as he pulled you closer to him, “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions. I think he’d just be happy to have us both back at the house.” Taking a deep breath, your hand delicately caressed his cheek, “I wish I would’ve stayed here in Massachusetts with you. I was so stupid for leaving you.”

“No, no, honey. You weren’t stupid for leaving, we just, we were kids. We were dumb kids.”

“Yeah, but I still wouldn’t be a dancer and you wouldn’t have cheated on me.” You said with a sad smile.

“Well I can’t have that much pride, we’re in the bed my wife and I used to share.”

“Exactly, used to.”

You smiled at him, “You know what we both need?”

“Breakfast?”

“A fresh start in a new place.”

“I have-“

“I know but just imagine it with me.”

“Where would we go?”

“Maine? South Carolina? Florida?”

“Maine could be interesting. I don’t know if I could live somewhere where it’s hot all the time.”

He sighed, “I had a job opportunity lined up in Colorado but that’s probably long gone.”

“Colorado would be a great place to live.”

“We chose it because of the schools but…” he trailed off and you did your best to comfort him.

“Would you ever want another child?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

“I’m sorry to bring it up I just-

“No, no, honey. It’s okay…How about you, did you ever have any kids?”

You shook your head, “My ex never wanted kids… I always did but it didn’t matter to him what I wanted.”

“You would’ve made a great mom, Y/N.”

“We could always foster kids or even adopt them… Along with some dogs, I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Me too! I’ve loved dogs forever, you remember Buster?”

“Aww, buster!” You smiled remembering his family’s German shepherd. “When did Buster pass?”

“My junior year of college, he lived a pretty long life. But then Laurie got pregnant and any time I brought up a dog she was annoyed or said it was allergies. I learned maybe five years ago she just didn’t want to clean up dog hair.”

“I want a golden retriever.” He said with a big smile, “How about you?”

“I want either an Australian shepherd or a pug.”

“A pug?! That’s ridiculous!”

“They’re cute! Andy! Don’t be mean!” You playfully hit his chest.

“I’m sorry, I just, they are the weirdest fucking dogs and they snore!”

“Not as loud as bulldogs or you during springtime!”

“Fine, fine, I concede. We can have an amazing golden retriever and a weird pug.”

“Thank you.” You scrunched up your nose with a smile, happy that you won, before gently kissing his forehead and resting back against your pillow.

Andy sighed, “I don’t think I’m worth a second chance at this life.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Do you think I deserve a second chance?”

“Well by the sound of it your husband was shit and you are one of the most incredible women I’ve ever met so of course.”

“So… Be my second chance.”

#fifof #andy barber x reader

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 2 years ago

Text

Always There - Prologue : S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, mentions of death and murder, mentions of Azkaban

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

Author's Note: It's been a long ass time my friends, but I'm trying to make a come back here. I was a bit out of my comfort zone with this one so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 629

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

Y/N Potter became an aunt in 1980 to a wonderful little boy named Harry. Her brother, James, had asked her to be the boy's godmother, as his best friend Sirius was named the boy's godfather. She of course accepted this honor, not knowing that a year later, the boy would be hers to take care of.

The night of Lily and James Potter’s death, as well as Lord Voldemort, Y/N was left by some of the most important people in her life. Peter had died, murdered by a supposed friend, Sirius Black, who was thrown in Azkaban after killing Peter and a dozen muggles. And then there was Remus, who had just left without a word, no note, no letter, just left. Remus was like another brother to Y/N, they had become friends before James and Remus became friends. So when he left without a trace, she was quite upset, she had just lost her brother and sister-in-law, one of their friends, another getting locked up and she was all alone with a baby that she didn’t know how to care for.

That was until she had run into Severus Snape at the late Potters’ grave not even a week later. He was leaving a fresh lily on the stone as she walked into the cemetery. They sat and talked for over an hour until Harry began whining to eat. This became a routine for the two adults. Eventually Severus began to help Y/N take care of Harry and herself, getting the Potter girl a job at Hogwarts with Professor Sprout after remembering that Herbology was her favorite subject. He helped her around the house and the two became unlikely friends.

By the time Harry had reached 11, Y/N was offered the position as Herbology professor after Sprout had retired. She of course accepted the position, the first person other than Harry being told was Severus. She had gotten the job thanks to not only Professor Sprouts’ recommendation but also Severus, McGonagall and Binns. Getting a recommendation from Professor Binns was her greatest accomplishment other than being able to raise Harry when she was just barely an adult. She did give a lot of thanks to Severus for helping her raise the boy.

Although Severus and James never got along, Severus had always been fond of the Potter girl. She was his favorite Potter that he had ever interacted with, which had only been four but that hadn’t mattered to him. Severus was quite fond of Lily but after realizing she was unattainable, he was able to move on from her. His fondness shifted to a different Potter, this time Y/N. Severus acted like a guard dog in a way, trying his damnedest to keep her safe and happy.

Not only did he act this way to her but also Harry. The boy grew up seeing Severus nearly everyday and had taken to calling the man Uncle Sev when he was 4. Severus had a fondness for Harry but nothing like the fondness he had for the boy’s aunt. Although her brother and his friends were terrible to him, Severus always liked the Potter girl better than her mischievous brother. He knew she was much different from her brother, more reserved, more intelligent, kinder.

The two grew closer and closer as the years went on, it got to a point that other professors were betting on when they would get together and students were constantly asking if they were a couple. Of course the two denied it but then later fantasized about being with the other instead of fessing up to their feelings. However, everything went astray during Harry's third year. Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban and Remus Lupin the new DADA professor.

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carrotmakar · 5 years ago

Text

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 23.5k

Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself

A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!

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Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.

The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.

There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.

The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself.

The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.

Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).

And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.

Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.

He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love.

But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.

There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty.

The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.

That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.

Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.

Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.

So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.

You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well.

Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.

Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.

It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.

It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.

It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.

You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.

You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.

So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.

You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.

He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.

He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.

But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you.

He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more.

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.

When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.

However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.

To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.

You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.

When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry.

You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.

Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip.

They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.

After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.

Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..

You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.

You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.

If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.

By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.

Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.

If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?

You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.

You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.

You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.

The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy.

You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.

“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).

It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.

You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general.

You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.

You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.

What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.

He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler?

You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.

You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.

You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.

“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.

“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”

“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.

“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”

Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?”

He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’

You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you.

The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.

The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.

Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”

“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.

The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.

You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.

You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.

Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning.

Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.

You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.

After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you

Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.

“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.

That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.

She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.

Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.

You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.

Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.

You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.

And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls.

Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way.

She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done.

Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.

“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.

“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.

Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy?

You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.

Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.

It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.

We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X

You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.

You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.

When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.).

You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.

“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.

You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week.

He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.

The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward.

“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.

You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.

You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out?

You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.

You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.

The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same.

Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.

“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.

“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.

“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.

He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.”

He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.

For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells.

So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.

You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.

You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for.

You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you?

Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.

It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?

Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.

Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.

“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.

“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying.

“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible. The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.

“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?

“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?

“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.

“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.

“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.

“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.”

“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.

“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?

“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.

You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.

“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence.

He scoffs, “Yes you are.”

“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,

“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”

After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”

He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.

“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.

“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.

“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.

“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?

“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.

“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”

If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.”

You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”

“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.

“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care.

You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”

That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.

Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.

He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.

“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm.

He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.

For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.

You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.

You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that.

You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.

Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something.

You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.

You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.

You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him.

You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.

You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”

“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.

“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.

“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.

You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”

You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.

You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.

“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.

He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.

“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.

His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick.

You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off.

Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.

You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.

What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.

You rush down to where they are.

“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks.

You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”

Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.

“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.

“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.

“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.

It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.

“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.

“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.

You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”

With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.

After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”

You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”

He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.

You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.

The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.

You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms.

As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.

“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?

“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth.

“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.

“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.

“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?

“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.

“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell.

You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.

You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head.

Could he really care about you?

If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?

How does he expect to make this up to you?

You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry.

Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends.

But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.

Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.

Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.

You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.

You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off.

Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.

Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake.

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.

The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine.

You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?

“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.

“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.

“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”

“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”

“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.

“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.

“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.

“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.

“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.

“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.

“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.

“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.

“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Alright.” you grin “H.”

The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders.

“You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.

“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.

“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.

“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him.

“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.

“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.

“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.

“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.

You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.

You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.

His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.

It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.

After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.

He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.

All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.

He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.

You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.

He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.

“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.

“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.

“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.

Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.

He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point.

The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants.

God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.

Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.

He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.

He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.

“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”

“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.

“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”

He sighs, “Never hated you.”

You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”

“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”

You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple?

“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.

“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.

“Hmm?” he wonders.

You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”

A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.

He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.

You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.

RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.

When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.

You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his.

After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.

He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.

“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.

“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.

“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.

“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him.

“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.

“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.

“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.

You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating.

“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.

“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.

“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.

“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.

“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.

It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.

Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him.

You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.

But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.

Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.

You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.

As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine?

You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.

When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?”

He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.

He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing.

“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.

“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.” You say.

You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.

For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.

After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.

Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?”

“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.

Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.

“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.

“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.

If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.

After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.

As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.

When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini.

Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.

Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.

“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.

“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.

“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”

You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.

After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.

He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”

Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”

When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.

“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.

You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.

Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”

He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”

“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”

He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”

You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.

“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”

“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.

“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.

“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”

You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.”

“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far.

You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”

You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.

“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.

You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.

You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.

“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”

The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”

The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.

“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.

“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles.

You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.

“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.

“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”

You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.

Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.

You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.

After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.

When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.

They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.

You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much?

You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.

You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.

Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”

You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.

“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”

You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”

You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.

You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.

You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.

He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.

“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand.

After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.

You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.

“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.

“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”

“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”

He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.

“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even.

You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.

You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.

“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.

“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.

Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.

He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.

You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.

You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.

You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done.

You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal.

“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.

He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.

“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed.

Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.

You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.

You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.

Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.

“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.

“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.

“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”

“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.

The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again.

Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.

You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.

The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.

You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?

Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.

“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.

You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled.

“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.

“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”

The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.

He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.

You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car.

After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.

Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.

“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”

He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.

“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.

“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.

“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.

All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.

“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.

You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”

You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.

“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.

After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.

“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”

“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.

You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers.

You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.

You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?”

“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub.

The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.

“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”

You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand.

After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him.

Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand.

“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water.

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.

“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.

“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.

You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.

“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.

“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.

“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.

“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.

After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”

He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”

You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”

You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.

“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”

He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”

“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.

You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”

His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.

“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.

“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.

He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”

Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”

HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”

“I’m getting there.” You admit.

“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.

You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.

He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.

“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.

He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.

Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.

“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.

He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.

Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”

He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead, “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.

After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”

“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs.

You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.

But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.

Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep

You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.

“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.

“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”

You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together.

You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.

Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.

“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.

“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.

He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.

“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.

“Which part?” You say, playing coy.

“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”

You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”

You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.

After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.

After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.

“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.

On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.

He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.

He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”

You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.”

He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.

In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.

As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door.

You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”

“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.

“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”

“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.

“Calm down, H.” You urge.

“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes.

“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”

“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.

“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”

“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”

“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.

“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.

“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.

“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”

“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.

“Deal.” He says without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.

“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.

“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.

“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.

After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.

You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him.

“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.

He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.”

“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.

“What?” How are they being so calm about this?

“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.

How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective.

A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins.

The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them.

Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.

Thank you for reading!! You can come discuss with me here!!

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