#sat down to listen to this album and if i was going through a breakup i think this album would be it

[elderwisp]

𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘵

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part three)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, fighting (verbal).

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: idk yall, this kinda ate ngl. I’m so proud of this and I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! <3 also I’m sorry to all the Pedro girlies…I had to. 

part three: uninvited

The past few days seemed to drag on slower than you wished they had. The rest of your time in London was spent doing various interviews centered around your upcoming album release and Ashley dragged you around to every possible tourist attraction around. It was all rather mundane- every interview was the same and every attraction too crowded for your liking. You were being a grump but you were tired and anxious. All the hype around your sophomore album delighted you, truly it did, but the doubts always took up more space in your mind than you cared to admit. With this album, you took a lot of inspiration from the pop girlies of the early 2000s, Britney being the biggest influence. You allowed yourself to explore your sexuality and true self. The songs were erotic in the best way and in just a few weeks, everyone would have access to that side of you. The image you’d been portraying wasn’t that of a ‘soft good girl’ per say but you hadn’t been this open and honest before. It was terrifying. 

You landed at LAX around two in the morning, giving you a few hours of sleep before your 11am meeting. This was one of those times you didn’t mind using the perks of your fame. You had a car waiting to pick Ashley and yourself  up to take you straight home, allowing both of you to get some sleep as the driver fought through the airport traffic. The moment you reached your small house, you threw your luggage across the living room and dropped face down into the couch, falling back into a deep sleep with Ashley right next to you. When your alarms go off at nine am, you’re banging your head into the couch cushions, the seven hours of sleep feeling like a blink. You roll slightly allowing yourself to fall the short distance from the couch onto the floor. “Ow…” You mumble, rubbing the back of your head. Dragging yourself up, you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was something you should have done last night. Just thinking about all the germs sitting on your body right now made a quick chill of disgust roll down your spine. You heavily disliked sleeping in your ‘outside clothes’ but the tiredness beat the cleanliness last night. 

Sweat pants and a hoodie weren’t exactly meeting appropriate but it wasn’t anything serious, just a little gathering to figure out some last minute details for the album listening party being thrown for your friends and family. You didn’t want it to be a huge deal but your label saw it as a marketing opportunity. If it were up to you, it would be a simple get together at your house but they insisted on it being at some club that would have paparazzi waiting to take pictures. You aren’t even sure why you're needed at the meeting because your input wasn’t even being considered, you just sat and gave the ‘stamp of approval’. Ashley was still knocked out when you walked to your kitchen to grab a small breakfast- a protein yogurt and some apple slices. You’d much prefer french toast but your trainer has been onto you about your diet with a tour coming up. You needed to be in good shape to dance and sing at the same time, it was ridiculous how hard it was. 

“Hey Ash, imma head out, i’ll be back soon.” You shake her shoulder lighty. She opens her eyes to some degree and mutters, what sounded like, an ‘okay’. You sighed as you started the engine to your 2000 green Toyota Corolla. It had been making a funny noise before your trip overseas that you had forgotten all about it. A lot of your newer, richer, friends have made fun of your car but you couldn’t find reason to part with it. It still ran and got you where you needed to be. You loved your fugly little car. The car ride was surprisingly short, traffic light. Pulling into the office parking lot, you sent a quick text to Stacy. 

You: please tell me you’re here already 😭

Stacypoo <33: I am. 4th floor, take a right. I’ll wait in the hall for you. 

You sent a thumbs up and made your way to the front doors. The elevator ride was quick, luckily you were the only one in there, saving you from making any awkward small talk with some random person. You were too tired to keep up your friendly demeanor. Stacy was standing outside of an office door when you first saw her. Giving quick hellos, she motioned you into the room. 

“How long do you think they’ll have us sitting here this time?” You ask jokingly. You’ve made yourself as comfortable as possible in the cheap plastic chair with a thin cushion on the seat. With your elbows propped up on the table, your head sat heavy with both hands holding up your cheeks. 

She lets out a snort before responding. “Who knows. I swear these people make us wait on purpose as some kind of power move.” 

Stacy had left London a day before you had. The moment your last interview was over, she was jumping on the first flight back home. She looked well rested and put together. You envied her ability to bounce back into routine so quickly. The two of you filled the small room with back and forth conversation about the day in London she had missed. Three people from your management/ label came tumbling in fifteen minutes later. As you suspected, you were doing a whole lot of nothing. 

“The team we hired are allowed to go into the club at noon to start decorating and the party will start at 10pm.” One of the people spoke, you think his name is Mark, but you aren’t completely sure. 

“Will y/n need to be there at a certain time or is 10 fine?” Stacy asks. 

“She can show up at ten but she won’t be in the main room until 10:30 so she can give a speech and introduce the album.” Stacy gives a nod and types that into her laptop. You didn’t like the idea of giving a speech. 

“Okay, let's go over the guest list one more time and then we can wrap this up.” Mark, you think, says. You’re paying closer attention now, they hand you a list and you skim it. There's a lot of names of people who you consider more of an acquaintance than a friend but you can’t really uninvite them. 

“Um, can I actually add two more people to this list?” You ask and Mark nods. Stacy is giving you a questioning look. 

“Can you add Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman? I um.. I met them the other day and they said they were fans. It would be cool to have them there.” You smile and from the corner of your eye, you can see Stacy pursing her lips, trying to hold back a laugh. One of the other people in the room, not Mark, adds their names to the guest list. Stacy and Mark talk for a few more minutes before the meeting is coming to a close. Once Stacy and yourself are enclosed in the elevator, she’s looking over at you with a lopsided grin, shaking her head slowly. 

“What?” You give her a small chuckle, feeling extra giddy. 

“You're unbelievable. Why even extend the invite to Mr. Reynolds when all you want is to see Huge Jackman.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at the play on Hugh’s name. 

“So not true. They like my music, why not invite them to hear the album before anyone else?” You deny her accusations. 

“Whatever you say y/n.” She drags out the ‘ever’ a little too long to emphasize just how much she doesn’t believe a word you say. The elevator is opening and the walk to the parking lot is silent. Stacy bids you goodbye and says that she would be in touch soon before she’s walking away. 

“Wait! Stacy!” You call out to her and she’s turning back to you.  “I need you to track down Hugh’s number, I want to personally invite him.” You smirk and she’s just shaking her head in a joking manner. 

“Byeee Stacypoooo!” 

—

When you got home, Ashley was awake and watching tv on your couch. You sat with her and talked about everything you had learned at the meeting. She was more excited for the event than you were, it was her type of scene. You knew you'd end up having fun once you were there but you were nervous. You might have left out the fact that you had invited Ryan and Hugh as last minute guests- it was something she could find out the day of if they showed up. She left not too long after, leaving you to pick up your home a little bit. You cleaned it pretty thoroughly before leaving the country but you felt a little overwhelmed by the unpacked luggage that sat in the middle of your living room floor. You packed too much clothing for the short trip, a lot of what was in the suitcase never even got worn. You decided to throw it all in the washer anyway. Dirtys clothes touching clean clothes makes them all dirty in your mind. In the middle of moving your laundry into the washing machine, your phone quacked signaling that Stacy had messaged you. She earned her own notification sound after the endless mixed texts and calls over the first few months of her working for you. It was a terrible habit you had, not answering your phone, but you usually paid attention to it when you were expecting contact. You pressed start on the machine and sauntered over to the kitchen counter your phone sat on. 

Stacypoo <33: the deed is done…have fun loser 

There was a second text that contained a number to which you assumed was Hugh’s. You smiled brightly as you texted Stacy a quick ‘thank you, love you’ text with a million heart emojis. You wasted no time, immediately creating contact for the man you were so eager to see again. 

You: hey hugh, it’s y/n! my label is throwing a listening party for my album that’s coming out soon and I thought it would be really cool if you were there. no pressure to come if you don’t want to but it’s on september 14th at Disco Lights at 10pm. 😊💕

You hit send, put your phone back on the counter, and ran across your house, needing to be as far away from the device as possible. Keeping yourself busy was probably your best option right now, so that’s what you did. You continued where you left off by putting your suitcases back into the storage closet in your hallway. Living alone made you realize how neat of a person you were. Back home it felt like you were constantly cleaning but you didn’t have to do as much in your own home. It was a simple three bedroom with one and a half bathrooms. Two of the three rooms weren’t used that frequently- one being a guest bed and the other being an at home studio/ office. The most you had to do was an occasional dust and sweep. You ran out of things to do too quickly. It had maybe been an hour since you sent the text and you were too nervous to even take a peek at your phone yet. You walked over to the counter comically slow and stared down at the phone screen, too afraid to look at the notifications. There were only three outcomes to this situation- one he doesn’t respond, two he can’t come, or three he agrees to come. You were hoping it was the latter option. The worst outcome was him ignoring you, you hated being ignored. It would also overall be the awkwardest outcome because his team will more than likely extend the invite to him as well. Maybe it would have been easier that way but you really wanted an excuse to get his number and talk to him. 

It felt like eternity had passed before you finally grabbed your phone, but in reality it was probably only a minute, you’ve never had the best self restraint. You unlocked it, opening the home screen, not even bothering to look at the pile of notifications, instead opting to go straight into the message app. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Hey y/n. I’d be delighted to come. 😁

You let out a loud screech after reading the message. If you were laying down, you’d be kicking your feet in the air and twirling your hair. You knew he was old but the way he texted did something to you. It was weird but the simplicity in his words was such a turn on. Everything about him turned you on, he was sex on legs, and he was coming to your party. You checked the time he sent the message to see that he responded only ten minutes after you had sent yours. You felt bad for leaving him hanging for so long. 

You: YAY!! I’ll see you there 😘

The added kiss was bold and flirty, you’d hope he would see it as such. You wanted to continue texting him but didn’t want to bother him, so you left it up for him to decide to text you back or not. Just as you were about to swipe out of the app, three little dots popped up at the bottom of the screen. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: What should I wear? I haven’t been to a club in awhile. 

You: wear whatever you want. I'm sure you’d look good in anything ;)

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Thank you sweetheart. I genuinely do need help though. I’m too old to pick out club clothes. 😂

You: hmmm.. if it would help I could send you a picture of my outfit? maybe it will inspire you 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah we can try that. 

Ashley begged you to go shopping with her the moment you told her about the event and you both have had outfits picked out for a few weeks. When you got home that day, you put on the outfit, snapping a quick mirror picture to send to your hair and makeup artist so she could start brainstorming. You opted to send the same picture to Hugh. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Oh! That’s nice. 

You laughed at that. The picture of you wasn’t the best quality but you still looked hot. You were wearing a silver mini skirt that was lined with large sequins, ones that reminded you of a purse you had when you were younger. The top was a silver latex halter top that made your cleavage look devine. To top the look off, you wore a pair of shiny silver heels that could almost be classified as stilettos, but you wanted to be able to move around comfortably. You could have easily pulled the outfit out of your closet and snapped a picture of it but you wanted to tease him.

You: thank you! did that help at all? 😊

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah, it did... Thank you sweetheart. 

You: no problem! 

He didn’t respond right away this time and being the menace you are, you were hoping it was because you made him flustered. 

—

The two and half weeks leading up to the listening party seemed to drag on now that you were more excited for it. Now that Hugh was coming, you were also extra nervous. While you got your hair and makeup done, all you could think about was how everyone was about to hear about your sex fantasies for almost an hour straight. You were counting on the beat of the music and the fact that this was everyone's first listening to distract them from processing the lyrics right away. You hadn’t heard much from Hugh and you were scared that you might have offended him with the picture you had sent. You decided to send a text two days ago asking if he was still planning on coming, to which he replied positively. 

Butterflies danced around your tummy as you posed for a few pictures before you went out to join the party. You could hear it in full swing, a playlist that you had curated playing in the background. Breathing in and out slowly, someone handed you a microphone and you were being ushered to a small stage that sat in the back of the club. The music got turned down and the lights centered towards you, a wave of quiet flooded the room. 

“Hi everyone! I’m beyond thankful for everyone here tonight. This album has been so much fun to make and I feel like it really represents me as an artist. It pays tribute to the amazing women of the late 90s and early 2000s who changed the pop game and who inspired me to make music. I really hope y’all like it! Without further ado, here is ‘Secret Sounds’!” The gathering of your friends, family, and acquaintances cheer as the first song starts to play. You rush over to the side to hand the mic back to the crew member and you begin to make your rounds. You stop here and there, speaking to people you hardly know, thanking them for being here. The club was packed, making it hard to move around without stopping to talk every step you took. There were only a few people you really wanted to see right now. A smile is glued to your face, soaking in all the love in the room, with it only being partially forced. You can see Ashley across the crowd and you start making your way towards her. You don’t make it far before there's a hand on your shoulder stopping you. 

“Hey baby.” A familiar voice comes from behind you causing your smile to drop as you turn around. 

“Pedro…what are you doing here?” You ask with a mix of shock and irritation in your voice. 

“You invited me, remember?” He’s smiling as if he hadn’t broken up with you in the cruelest way almost two months ago. 

“I thought you’d be smart enough to take the breakup and me ignoring you as being uninvited.” You roll your eyes. 

“Don’t be like that baby.” He’s smiling down at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. He reaches down to grab your waist but you step back before he can. 

“Don’t touch me!” You say louder than anticipated but no one’s paying attention to you over the loud music. “You broke up with me, remember?” You’re thoroughly pissed off. 

“I know, baby and  I regret it everyday. I want you back y/n. I need you back…” He’s reaching for you again, you step back again. 

“I said don’t touch me..” You don’t yell this time. You need to get away from him. This was supposed to be your night and he’s ruining it. You go to turn around but you’re stopped by a very hard object.

“Is everything okay over here?” A gruff voice asks and you feel two hands grab either side of your arms. “Are you okay?” You look up to see Hugh looking down at you, concern in his eyes. 

“Hugh..” Your voice is weak and breathless. 

“Oh don’t tell me you already moved on?” Pedro lets out, anger lining his words. “What is he, your boyfriend? I wasn’t old enough for you y/n? You had to run and fuck my friend?” His voice grows louder and louder but miraculously no one seems to notice the commotion. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You mumble, too embarrassed by the situation. 

“What’s it to you? Huh? Why don’t you mind your business and leave.” Hugh’s voice matches Pedro’s energy effortlessly. He lets go of your arms and instead points an angry finger at Pedro. 

“You know what, I don't need this and I don’t need you.” Pedro says looking into your eyes with a malicious stare. “Good luck with her, she’s nothing but a good fuck and trouble.” He’s walking away before either of you could answer. You felt Hugh go to move towards the directions Pedro went but you stop him by putting your hand on his chest. 

“Don’t…” You whisper and you weren’t sure if he could hear you over the music. Tears were starting to pool at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to escape. 

“Are you okay y/n?” Hugh asks and that’s all it takes before you let out a soft sob. He puts his hand under your chin and is lifting your head. “Let's get you out of here, is that okay?” All you can do is nod. You grab his hand and walk towards the hallway that leads to the room you got ready in. You open the door and make your way to the couch that sits along the wall. Hugh follows behind, closing the door and takes a seat close to you but not too close. He doesn’t say anything, what could he say?

“I’m sorry.” You let out, tears still falling. You pull your knees up, trying to hide the tears from Hugh, even if he already knew they were there. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” He cautiously places a hand on your back and rubs it in soft circles, soothing you. You untuck your head for a moment. 

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” You frown at him. 

“What he did is not your fault. Okay?” You can’t find the energy to answer him right away, not sure if you truly believe his words, but you nod anyway. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” Sadness fills your voice.

“What? Why not?” He asks confusingly. 

“Everyone is going to think what Pedro thought, that you’re my boyfriend. We shouldn’t be seen together. It won’t be good for you.” 

“Hey, don’t think like that sweetheart. Whatever we are is our business, nobody else's. I want to be seen with you, I'm here to support you. I don’t care what people have to say. I’m not him.” His hand stopped moving around your back, eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

I’m not him

You don’t respond but you do feel better about the whole situation. You can hear the fourth song of your album playing and you get hit with another rush of sadness. 

“I should probably go back out there, people will start to wonder where I am.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Let's get you cleaned up. Stay right here.” Hugh stands up and grabs a tissue, wetting it slightly by pouring a few drops of water from a water bottle onto it. He walks over and bends down, sitting on his knees right in front of you. Even at this angle, his head is still resting above yours. Hugh grabs your chin lightly and begins to dab the tissue, wiping your tears away. You can feel the heat from the air leaving his nose hitting your face. It’s comforting in a way.

“There we go, good as new.” He says with a big smile. Your faces are inches away from each other and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him in. 

“Thank you Hugh. For everything.” You return his smile, eyes locked onto his. You took a moment to appreciate his appearance. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray, almost silver button up, as if he tried to match with you. 

“Don’t mention it sweetheart” He stands up and offers his hand to you. “Now let’s get the star of the show back out there, yea?” 

You grab his hand and smile. “Do I look okay?” You ask, afraid that your disheveled state might have ruined your hair or outfit somehow. You pull him towards a mirror to check your full appearance, a firm grip still on his hand. It engulfed yours beautifully. 

“You look gorgeous.” You can tell he means it by the look in his eyes and the small smile that sits on his face. You see a flicker of something in his eyes, you don't fully catch it, but before you can think it over, he’s leaning down to leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Let’s go.” He says pulling you out of the room and back into the sea of people, never letting go of your hand.

Thank you for reading!!

part four

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley

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[lightsoutletsgo]

love letters; with love from... — cl.16 (part 2/2)

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

word count: >1000

warnings: some brief mentions of angst but nothing to heavy, they're so in love your honor, bad screenshots??

tysm for all the love for part 1! i never expected it to do as well as it did. hopefully you all love part 2 just as much! happy reading! love mimi 🤍

love letters; dear (part 1)

taglist: @arieslost @d3kstar @minkyungseokie @evie-119 @sltwins @maplesyrupsainz @charlesgirl16 @jaydaaasworld @rhythmstars @ravisinghs-wife @itsjustkhaos

You exhaled shakily as your eyes scanned the caption you'd drafted in your notes app. You didn't even tear your eyes away from the screen as Charles slumped down onto the couch next to you. "Everything okay mon amour?" You swallowed and nodded, offering your phone to him so he could read the caption. He was silent for a minute before he turned to look at you, tears in his eyes, "I am so so proud of you." You smiled, feeling yourself getting emotional, sniffling a little as he pulled you into him. You led there with him just enjoying the quiet comfort he provided before he spoke once more, "When are you going to post it?" You giggled and sat up, Charles following suit, "Are you gonna just drop it on instagram with no warning again?" You winked at him before unlocking your phone and typing out the post. Once you'd proofread it you hit 'post', immediately locking your phone and turning your notifications off as they already started pouring in. Charles gaped at you for a moment before scrabbling to find his phone, not struggling to locate it as it buzzed and vibrated constantly with new notifications, "You could have given me time to prepare!"

♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧

y/nsworld

Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 25,942,833 y/nsworld here we are, a year later and another surprise for you beautiful people! 'all the things I love to tell you' is out now on streaming platforms everywhere! oh wow, how exciting it is to finally be able to tell you guys about this 🥹 this album is the second half to my healing journey and it's full of love and light and hope for the future. a huge thank you to my company and management for giving me the freedom to release my music in the way I felt I needed to. thank you to my friends for listening to these songs in the car at 3am and crying with me when we realise just how far we've come, for putting up with me stealing their napkins at dinner to write lyrics and for once again holding my hand until I felt ready to take a step on my own. as always, thank you to my incredible fans who inspire me to keep writing and whom without NONE of this would be possible. and finally to my love, charles, thank you for being my muse, my biggest encourager, my musical partner and my rock through the past year. this album is about you, for you and was made with you. thank you for letting me call you the love of my life every day. you're all I need until forever falls apart can't wait to see you all on tour soon! love y/n 🤍

View all 45,730 comments y.nmusic I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN WAIT WHAT? ⤷ ynloverrr ISTG SHE CAN'T KEEP DROPPING ALBUMS ON US LIKE THIS

y/nupdates I'm gonna need someone to dissect everything about this post in a twitter thread 😭

taylorswift I'm so proud of you for this album 💜 can't wait to come and watch you on tour! Comment liked by y/nsworld

sabrinacarpenter I will let you steal my napkins anytime if it means I get songs like pancakes for dinner 😭🫶🏼 Comment liked by y/nsworld

francisca.cgomes I need to breakup with pierre just to experience falling in love with him again with this album Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld babe i love you sm 😭 ⤷ francisca.cgomes baby? i love you more ⤷ pierregasly you're literally MY girlfriend? ⤷ y/nsworld but she's MY wife Comment liked by francisca.cgomes

yncharles oh to be a fly on the wall when lando, lily and alex heard these songs for the first time 😭🥹 ⤷ y/nsworld coming to tikotok and insta reels soon my love 🫶🏼 ⤷ yncharles OMG OMG SHE REPLIED SKSKDKDFKJ ⤷ alex_albon pls don't use the clip of me sobbing over 'that part' Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld too late bestie 😄 ⤷ lilymhe I am still not over and will never get over "you might not like her" Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld I will never be over the hug you gave me when I finished playing it to you for the first time

charles_leclerc mon amour, it was an honor to be involved in your music journey and I am so thankful for every day I get to share with you. darling I'd wait for you til forever falls apart 🤍 Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ chachacharles THEY'RE MY ROMAN EMPIRE 😭 ⤷ charlesfann pls tell me someone else noticed charles credited as songwriter on 'til forever falls apart' 😭

ynmylove LETS 👏 TALK 👏 ABOUT 👏 HOW CHARLES AND Y/N USED SONG TITLES IN THEIR COMMENTS TO EACH OTHER 😭 ⤷ charlesandcarlos try not to cry challenge FAILED

on twt:

y/n's q+a on ig:

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/nsworld, maxverstappen1 and 12,942,833 charles_leclerc my incredibly talented girlfriend's album is out now! I am beyond proud to be able to say that she trusted me to help her not only record some of the songs but write them too. I didn't know I was much of a songwriter but looking into your eyes suddenly turned me into a poet ma belle.

everyday you inspire me with your creativity, your passion, your energy and your love for those around you. I could write you a million love songs and there would still be things left to say. you're all I need now until forever falls apart. j'taime mon amour ❤️ (if you haven't heard the album yet make sure you go and listen now!)

View all 45,730 comments y/nsworld I love you more than any love song could ever express. my muse, my love, my life 🤍 Comment liked by charles_leclerc ⤷ ynloverrr OH MY GOD?! I'M SO VIOLENTLY UNWELL OH GOD ⤷ ferrar1 'looking into your eyes suddenly turned me into a poet'

y/nandcharles THEY ARE MY ROMAN EMPIRE

sabrinacarpenter This album is literally on repeat! I cried the first time I heard 'you might not like her' and every time since

charlesforwdc can we all please just appreciate the STUNNING piano in 'so this is love' Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld we were literally just messing about in the studio and decided we liked it enough for the album! ⤷ y/nvocals the fact they were both "messing about" and sound THIS GOOD IS INSANE

maxverstappen1 congrats mate! you nailed this project!

landonorris from sliding into the dm's to collaborating on an album is CRAZY ⤷ y/nsworld LANDO 😭😭 ⤷ f1fannn exCUSE ME? sliding what?! ⤷ charleswifey charles sliding in her dm's is crazy but understandable 😭 ⤷ charles_leclerc try the other way around... 👨‍🦯 ⤷ y/nsworld BABY! 😭

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[lcriedlastnight]

Exes to lovers with Oscar: “what can i do? how can i fix this?”

idk how good i am at writing angsty stuff but here’s hoping i do you proud anon, lovely!

tw: fem!reader, not spell checked or proof read (cba bro it’s almost 4am), angsty (idk i tried), swears, lmk if you want to add anything else.

w/c: 2.3k

you hadn’t seen oscar in almost a month. the breakup was not the amicable, it was all oscar’s idea. not to play the name game or anything.

he was the one who ended things a month ago. your lives were just ‘too different’ right now and you were going in ‘different directions’. he was the one who had made sure he left no trace of himself in your apartment. he was the one you cried about when it got late and you felt lonely. most importantly, he was the one who acted like nothing had even happened.

people were commenting on your instagram posts and stories constantly asking where oscar was. it felt like getting kicked while you were already down. you stopped posting altogether after that.

it took you this whole month even be able to live your life again, before you were just existing. lando was the one to pull you up by your bootstraps and help you get your life back on track.

“i hate seeing you like this!” the brunette had begged you, a few weeks before, to go out clubbing with him and george.

“it’s just not my scene, lan. you know that. i’d rather just lay in bed all day and listen to the saddest songs on the tortured poets department.” you told him from somewhere between your messy bedsheets.

lando sighed and sat on the side of your bed. “c’mon! laying here crying about it will do nothing.” you knew he was right but it would do too much to his ego if you told him so, plus you also wanted to rot in this hurt for a little while longer.

“maybe next time.” you had offered. both of you knew you were lying.

the time came when lando finally made you face your problems head on, when he made you join him the monaco grand prix. with promises of not having to stay in a hotel and his company (you didn’t know if either of those things was something you wanted right now) the whole weekend, you eventually agreed. whether you agree just to shut him up or because you knew you would run into oscar… well it was a tie.

you lay tossing and turning in the guest room of lando’s, you couldn’t sleep for thinking about the man who has haunted your dreams for the past month and graced them for a year and a half before that. you decided to give up on getting sleep for now, turning onto your side you plan in your mind how you wanted the next day to play out. you were unsure if you should go for making him jealous of making him feel bad for you, eye bags and depression written all over your face or dolled up to the nines. in the end you decided on making him jealous. what good would looking gross at one of the most high profile races of the year - in front of your ex, no less - do you? you eventually fall asleep planning your outfits in your head.

the next morning you woke up with plenty of time to get ready, giving yourself plenty of time to get ready. lando, being your best friend, had the privilege of getting up at the arse crack of dawn, just as the light started to shine through his curtains, to ‘get ready with you’ as you had put it. he would put it as ‘you getting ready and him watching until you were almost done, then getting ready himself’. same thing basically.

“put that one taylor swift song on i know.” lando asks from his bed as you sit in front of his floor length mirror. you make eye contact from the floor.

“which one is that? she has like a million?” you question, you obviously being in charge of the music. lando groans as he turns onto his front, his groan becoming muffled by the bedsheets. you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“i’m just gonna put folklore on then.” you tell him, picking up your phone from beside you where it was currently charging. lando near enough leaps from the bed at your words.

“no! that album is depressing! that’s not today’s vibe!” his hands reaching for your phone.

“what is the vibe for today then?” you ask, going back to blending out your light eyeshadow.

you can sense what lando is going to say before it even comes out of his mouth. “reputation.”

the start of ‘this is why we can’t have nice things’ plays through the speakers your phone is connected to in his room. you really try to hold off from telling him that reputation has more love songs on it than he thinks but you can’t help yourself. lando is surprised at the news and asks what album has the most repuatuation vibes.

you sigh. “i made a playlist. just play that.”

once you had finished your makeup, lando starts to get ready as you fish out the outfit you had planned out in your head last night out of your bag. you knew it had to be good, seeing as this was the first time in a month that oscar will see you.

a month wasn’t really that long, you both had been apart longer when you couldn’t make it to races and he had shit to do in training, but this separation was different. it was permanent and because of that it felt like years since you had seen oscar. double that, the last time you spoke to him.

“y’ready then?” lando asks, grabbing his car keys. you follow behind, your sundress swaying with the movements of your legs as you grab your clutch bag, filled with random items you knew you probably were never going to touch for the rest of the day. you nod, slipping on your heels and head to the car, right behind lando.

arriving at the paddock didn’t feel as weird as you thought it would. the flashes from the cameras almost blind you both as you walk in together. most reporters asking if you had cheated on oscar with the tanned brit.

as usual you ignore them and strut harbouring a false sense of confidence as you walk side by side with lando.

you stick to lando’s side of the garage during qualifying. some of oscar’s engineers notice you and give you a wave, not wanting to be rude you wave back. you watch q3 nervously, a part of you- way deep in the back of your brain - wishes for oscar to well and it’s looking like he could even get pole for the first ever time in a proper f1 race. his qualifying last grand prix weekend had really impressed you (not that you were watching him or anything. you were only watching to support lando) but had also made you think that oscar had made the right decision with your breakup.

as you watch on during the final few minutes of q3 you feel a camera pan on your face from the corner of you eye. you pretend not to notice, scared incase on the screen it still calls you oscar’s partner. not that you would know, but if you forget about the camera then you’ll most likely forget about it all as a whole.

lando qualifies fourth. oscar second. a great weekend for mclaren. a podium basically already in the bag for the, usually, papaya team. as both cars make their way back to the garage, you stand off to the side, waiting on lando.

the boy in the fluorescent helmet jumps out of the car and almost sprints to the opposite end of the garage, to oscar’s side, eager to congratulate him. you watch as the boy takes off his helmet and balaclava to wrap the australian up in a friendly hug. the latter not even getting the chance to take his own helmet or balaclava off before the arms of his friend wrap around him.

you just watch from afar, wanting so badly to be the one feeding oscar words of praise and excitement about the race tomorrow. you see them both converse as you try to act like your not staring, suddenly remembering the cameras lingering around. lando finally peels himself away and makes his way back to you. oscar’s eyes follow him to you. you don’t know if he’s surprised to see you or not. not like you even care anyways.

“well done lan!” you cheer, maybe a bit too loud than normal. your arms wrapping around his fireproofs in a tight hug, copying his own actions to his teammate minutes before. you hoped oscar was watching on.

“thanks bro!” lando laughs in your ear, happily as his results were improving every race. you also laugh at his choice of words.

“bro?” you ask through a giggle. the giggle drawing the attention of oscar again, who had tried to forget about your presence but felt like he was getting harshly reminded of the grave mistake he had made.

“you’re my bro” is all the explanation he gives. it’s not like he’s lying to be fair, you were his bro. he lets go of his hold on you then talks about his plans for tomorrow night.

“is it not a bit too early to be thinking about tomorrow after the race already?” you ask him, as if you’re not used to this at the end of every saturday.

“i should be at the club” he shrugs as he drags you to his race room. directly next to oscar’s. you know this hallway like the back of your hand.

you hear oscar’s footsteps behind you and lando as he tells you every thought he had during the flying laps. you trying so hard to listen but all you can think about it how much you want to turn around to oscar and bag him to take you back. but you’re not doing that. that would, well that would just be a new low for you.

“i just knew osc would be quick, didn’t think he would be quicker than me. he’ll probably be on the podium tomorrow.” lando comments, offhandedly. both your’s and oscar’s ears prick up at the mention of oscar’s name.

oscar strains his ears as you stop just in front of lando’s door. he tries to keep a safe distance, not wanting to alert you both of him.

“yeah?” is all you say. lando snorts.

“you could at least act like you care.” lando says as he opens the door to let you both in. that’s when you both hear the heavy, quick footsteps of oscar rushing to you before you enter lando’s driver room.

“hey-uh can i talk to you?” oscar directs to you, eyes not even trying to shift in lando’s direction. you hesitate. why was he acting like he hasn’t just broken up with you.

“please?” oscar practically begs. lando gives you an encouraging nudge before disappearing into his room, leaving you no choice but to stand in the hallway with oscar.

it’s quiet before you speak up, words a little uneasy and shaky. “what could you possibly have to say to me?” you question him.

“please don’t be like this. i can’t do it.” oscar’s voice is weak and almost pathetic. you scoff at his words.

“you’re being serious? where was this when you broke up with me?” you seethe, feeling your anger build. oscar looks hurt but you see a glint of something you can’t decipher in his eye and it makes you miss him even more, you can’t stand this.

“what can i do? how can i fix this? fix us?” oscar looks down at you with wide eyes. you swear they look glassy, like if he blinks too hard tears he’s so clearly fighting will slide down his cheeks.

“fix us?” you ask, confused. “you want to fix this?”.

oscar nods eagerly, gathering your hands in his and pressing them against his chest. “i can’t bare this without you. i’m so stupid for thinking that breaking up was the right thing to do. i miss you in everything i do. all i could think about out there was if you were still mines how i could go celebrate this with you. i don’t know if i remember how to live without you, baby.”

you only stare at him. your face betraying you by showing oscar every little feeling that flashes through your mind.

“it’s been like this since miami. you should’ve been there. i’m sorry. i’ve ruined this for you. and i know this is me being selfish but i need you to come back to me.” the grip oscar has on your hands get a little tighter as he begs you to forgive him.

you feel your bottom lip wobble a little before you pull your lips in a tight line to pull yourself together. “i miss you too. but you hurt me.” you say, cautious and wary.

oscar makes this pained noise like he’s been winded as your words hit him. “i know and i’m so fucking sorry. what can i do to make it up to you? i’ll do anything i swear.” oscar was clearly not above begging for you to his again.

you think for a second, eyes avoiding his and instead looking down at the floor. seeing as oscar can read you like a book he knows what’s coming next. you’re gonna reject him in a way he knows only you could and cry too, because you will feel bad, you’ll feel bad for the monster who broke your heart. how could he even think he would have a chance at getting you back?

you surprise him by speaking up softly. “maybe a trial date?” you suggest. oscar’s head nearly falls off from how quickly he nods. never agreeing to something so quickly before in his life. he’s going to make this the best date you’ve ever been on in your life.

[harryyskiwii]

Summary: You and Harry are childhood friends, but are often labelled as being together.

Pairing: Friend Harry x Reader

Word count: 1,341

A/N: Thank you to the person who requested this! I really hope you enjoy reading it. It was nice to write Harry as the readers friend for a change and not as anything romantic.

As always, please feel free to send in any requests 🥰

You and Harry had been friends ever since you were 13 years old. You met in high school in biology when you were paired up for a task together and ever since then, he’d been by your side.

You had supported Harry throughout the X Factor days, the peak of 1D, the end of 1D, and the start of his solo career and continued to support him as he toured his 3rd studio album.

He had supported you through university as you became a teacher, a lifelong dream you were proud to have achieved, as well as breakups.

Although he was busy and was hardly ever in the same country for longer than 24 hours, he always made the time to speak to you, whether that was just a text back or a phone call.

You were teaching your year 4 class when a notification came through on your Apple Watch from Harry which read “Hey, I’m back in London on Sunday, wanna grab a coffee?” You smiled and took a mental note to reply to it later

You had a short break while you set your children a task to complete and quickly texted Harry back.

“Yeah sure, text me times and I’ll be there😊” you replied.

You didn’t even have to ask him where to meet, you had been going to the same coffee shop in Soho for the last 6 years. Harry always had been a creature of habit.

Sunday came and you got yourself ready for the day, choosing a light pink summer dress with your Doc Martin white sandals and a cross-body bag. It was 29 degrees after all.

You arrived at the coffee shop 10 minutes before Harry, you chose the small booth at the back where it was more private as whenever you two were spotted, there was always a Daily Mail article published the next day about you two ‘dating’ when in fact, neither of you had seen each other in that way. You were too close as friends and anything more would just ruin the friendship, it was purely platonic.

You texted him to let him know where you were sitting to which he responded with a “👍”. A typical Harry response.

It wasn’t long before you saw him walking into the cafe. He smiled at you as he walked towards you.

Cuddling you, he greeted you “Hey you, how are ya?”

“I’m good, not seen you in ages! How are you?” You said as you sat down.

“I know it’s been too long, I’m good. What do you wanna drink and I’ll order?”

“Just a latte please” You smiled and he went up to the counter.

He ordered and came back to the table. He removed his crossbody bag from the black North Face puffer he was wearing and smiled at you.

“What?” You laughed when he didn’t lose eye contact “I’ve just missed you, that’s all. Tell me, what’s been going on?”

The coffee came and you started to tell Harry about how school had been and how you had been given a new class to teach, you also mentioned about your trip to Manchester you had with your 4 girlfriends for a hen party recently and then how you were seeing this guy from Tinder.

“Spill” is all Harry said when you mentioned him. He was always up for listening to you and your random Tinder dates.

“Okay, so I met him last weekend after speaking to him for about 2 weeks, we went for dinner in a nice Italian restaurant but this is the thing”

“Oh no, there’s a but coming. What’s wrong with this guy?” Harry questioned and you laughed.

“Well we then went onto a bar and when we got in there, I assumed we were doing rounds because that’s what I always do no matter who I’m out with, it’s just common sense to pay for one lot of drinks then the other person gets the next but when we went up to the bar, he only ordered for himself. Like he didn’t even ask what I wanted, I was about to ask him what he wanted but he was ordering already and so I assumed he would order for me but he never and the bartender brought over one pint. Do you find that weird?” You asked.

Harry didn’t even pause before he came out with “Trash, trash, trash, not for you. Absolutely not. I’m sorry but move on”

You burst out laughing at his reaction, he was probably right after all.

“So I take it you’re not a fan of this guy then no?” You said sarcastically.

“A person who can’t even buy a drink for the person they’re with isn’t worth your time, like you said it’s just natural to take it in turns” Harry said as he sipped on his black coffee.

“You’re right, I’ll find someone else. Anyway, what’s going on with you?”

He sighed “not a lot to be honest” he said.

“Not a lot? Come on I’ve not seen you for 4 months and not a lot has happened?” You asked digging deeper.

“I’ve genuinely just been working. I’ve written a little bit too but mostly working. I’ve got a new pleasing line coming out soon in the next year or so which is exciting” he said with the most monotone voice ever.

“You don’t seem too excited about it?” You asked noticing his change in demeanour.

“It’s just a lot, but we’re getting there” he forced a smile.

“Are you though? You know I’ve always said about speaking to Jeff if things are getting too much?”

“No it’s fine like I love touring, it’s my favourite part of the job it’s just quite demanding at times”

“Remember, you’re number 1. You need to look after yourself first because without Harry, there’s no show and I know how much you love performing so please make sure you’re looking after yourself. You know I’m always here if you wanna chat anything through” You smiled to him.

“Thanks y/n I appreciate that, I’m maybe just overtired and grumpy at the minute” he laughed.

For the rest of the morning, you spent sipping coffee and chatting with Harry. It was nice to spend time with him, even though it was only a couple of times a year.

You walked out of the cafe and said goodbye to Harry, hugging him.

“Nice seeing you, next time I'm in London we’ll meet up again” Harry said.

“Yeah it was fun! Remember to look after yourself!” you said.

“I will, come here” he said pulling you in for a cuddle.

“Thanks for today, I felt like I really needed it” he said to you.

“It’s no problem, text me anytime okay?”

“Okay, thanks y/n. See you later” Harry smiled as he walked away from the coffee shop.

That night, you were scrolling through Twitter when you saw a photo of you and Harry earlier that day with the headline “Harry Styles meets up with childhood sweetheart for coffee date” You rolled your eyes and laughed at the article which dug into your friendship a little.

You screenshotted the image with the headline and sent it to Harry with “I’m your childhood sweetheart am I? 🤣”

He replied only 10 minutes later “Ffs, next I’ll be dating my mum”

You laughed at his response, there always had been rumours of you two going out whenever you were spotted but if anything it just made you laugh.

And for the rest of that night, you watched as the image of you two hugging was doing the rounds on Twitter, much to your amusement.

[surftrips]

butterflies — part six.

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: after returning home from college for the summer, y/n runs into rafe cameron and the two form an unlikely relationship.

word count: ~ 1000

a/n: i was listening to taylor swift’s lover album while writing this which will become very obvious towards the end haha. only a few more chapters left! masterlist.

Rafe’s not even sure how Emma came back into his life. He’s convinced one of his frat brothers saw him moping around and called her up, assuming (incorrectly) that he was still hung up on her.

In reality, Rafe was still trying to get over you and how everything went down. It wasn’t ideal, and he was miserable on most days, but he still believed that leaving you alone was the best thing he could’ve done.

That is, until he found out that Emma had been lying to him.

To backtrack, she had simply showed up at the golf course one day to announce that she was in town for the week. 

“Emma? What are you doing here?” he had asked.

“My father’s here on business, thought I would tag along. Maybe see a familiar face… and I was right,” she winked. 

Rafe could hardly believe it. Here was this girl who had broken his heart, reentering his life as he was going through yet another heartbreak. 

But heartbreak makes one lonely, and it was unfair for him to refuse Emma’s company under the premise that he was “taken” by you, because he wasn’t. Rafe knew he had to move on eventually, he just wasn’t expecting to do it with his ex-girlfriend. 

She’s only staying for a week, Rafe thought to himself. It’s totally fine that she’s sleeping over. And we’re going out to eat together. And people on the island are starting to speculate. 

To make things clear, Rafe and Emma are not sleeping together. They’re not even holding hands. The furthest they’ve gotten is a side hug and the occasional hand brush, courtesy of Rafe’s boundary settings. He would probably die if you saw him and Emma out in public being touchy with each other. As for everyone else in town, he didn’t care who saw or what they thought. 

Even after a month, you were still the only person in town he cared about. 

Unfortunately for him, and maybe purposefully by Emma, one week became two. Two became three. Soon, she had her own place at the Cameron dinner table. 

“So, are you like Rafe’s girlfriend now?” Wheezie asked Emma once. 

Rafe coughed, “Oh, no-”

At the same time, Emma responded, “Actually, I was his girlfriend last semester. We just took a little break, didn’t we, Rafe?” 

Emma smiled sweetly at Rafe, who, refusing to start any discourse in front of his family, simply nodded. 

Sarah was frowning. 

—

Later that night, Rafe revisited the conversation Emma had with Wheezie at the dinner table. 

“Listen, Emma, I don’t know what we are or even what we’re doing right now, but I don’t think it’s dating. Do you?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t think we’re just friends either. There’s too much history between us,” she said. 

“But that’s just it,” Rafe sat up. “It’s too much history to get past, how are we supposed to just move on like nothing happened? How am I supposed to move on like you didn’t break my heart?” 

“Rafe, I’m here now,” Emma said quietly. “I’m sorry I hurt you, you know I loved you.” 

“Did you? Did you love me or did you love being with me?” Rafe’s voice was growing louder, he couldn’t help it. “Because when push came to shove, you didn’t fight for me. You let me go.” 

“Look, are you talking about that guy you saw me with after the breakup? Because he meant nothing to me, he was just a rebound.” 

“Great, like that makes me feel better. Emma, what are you really doing back here?” Rafe sighed. 

“I missed you,” she murmured. “I didn’t actually expect to see you when I came here with my dad, but I really, really wanted to. And when I did, I was so happy, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I just want to be back in your life.” 

Rafe felt as though the universe was playing a trick on him. A few months ago, he would’ve hung on every last word that came from Emma’s lips. Now, they all sounded like empty promises and half-hearted lies. 

“You deserve better,” was what you had told him at the beginning of the summer. He didn’t believe you then, but it seemed so much clearer now. 

“Emma, I can’t do this again. You know it’s not going to end well,” Rafe began.

“Is this because of Y/N?” Emma interrupted. 

“What? How do you know Y/N?” Rafe felt his heartbeat quickening at the mention of your name. 

Emma stammered, “I-I heard Wheezie and Sarah talking about her.” 

Now, Rafe knew Emma was lying. Ever since your fight, his sisters had been careful not to mention your name around the house. 

“Please, no more lies.” 

“Fine,” Emma’s features hardened. “She may or may not have called you.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Anger was now radiating from Rafe. “When?” 

“Like last week, I don’t know,” her voice trailed off.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” 

“I didn’t think it was important!” she said defensively. 

“It’s not up to you to decide what’s important and what’s not!” Rafe put his hands up to his face in frustration, looking around for his phone.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m calling her back,” he said. “You should leave. Goodbye, Emma.” 

“Rafe-” 

“I’m serious. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

The two were quiet for a moment. Rafe trying to stabilize his heart rate and Emma trying to gather her thoughts. 

“Fine, I’ll leave. But can I ask you one last thing?” She looked on the verge of tears. 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you love her?” 

Rafe used to think love was burning red: violently passionate, ready to explode at any given time. But he was wrong, it’s golden, like daylight. 

“I think I do.” 

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled, a real and true Rafe Cameron smile. The one that you had fallen in love with.

—

TAGLIST: @holy-macncheese-balls @everythingmarveltopgun @maybankslover @totallynotkaibiased @allsmilesreally7 @kys4-20 @golden-tangled-earphone @siesie2 @palmwinemami (let me know if you want to be added!)

[sarahjswift]

Emails I Can't Send-Rowaelin Fanfic

This is actually one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's based off of the song emails i can't send by Sabrina Carpenter. That whole album is so underrated - go listen to it! If you want, listen to the song while reading. The song is so so heartbreaking and I just had to write about it. :)

(I know I haven't posted in a while, so I thought this would be perfect because I love it so much. I wrote it back in August <33)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Language, some suggestive language

Tag List: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @luell1q

__

The song had come from everything and nothing at the same time. She’d written it on a crumpled piece of paper, droplets of her tears weakening the page, at three in the morning. All of her hurt and pain and fear from that night put into a couple scrawling paragraphs. 

Now, standing backstage in the wings, Aelin took a deep breath. The crew buzzed around her, Lysandra last-minute checking her makeup, hair and outfit before she went onstage. “Are you going to be okay?” her friend asked, emerald eyes filled with concern. “I know it’s an emotional song for you to sing live, and…you know, Rowan’s out there…”

Aelin winced as the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name sliced through her heart. It was a pain she was used but not invulnerable to. “I’ll be fine,” she said, more to herself than anything. Nevermind Rowan was seated somewhere in the audience with the rest of his band, and soon he’d be about to hear a breakup song about him…no, never mind that. 

__

Rowan was trying very hard not to think about what was coming next, about how the woman he loved with everything he had was about to be feet away from him. He’d never heard the song she was singing, very purposefully - whenever it came on the radio, which was every day, he’d cranked down the volume quickly. 

Rowan took a gulp of champagne and tried to think of other things. He and his band, The Cadre, had given a decent performance, performing their song K. It was a crowd-pleaser, one of their first hits about Gavriel’s wife, Krystal. He sat at the table with the band - his brothers, really - their partners, and Maeve, the band manager. 

Over the speakers, the host boomed; “Please put your hands together for Aelin Galathynius!”

__

Aelin took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage, immediately hit with the white-hot spotlight. She stood in front of the standing microphone and smiled as the audience cheered.

“Thank you,” she said, her own voice echoing back at her through the earpiece. “And thanks to all the fans who got me here, performing at the Grammys. This is my new single, emails I can’t send.”

She tuned out the clapping and focused on the instrumentals leaking into her left ear. Nodding to Aedion, her cousin on piano, she took a deep breath. 

__

“It’s times like these, wish I had a time machine so I could see what you did October 13th,” she sang. “At 10:15, were you really asleep or were you lying to me and the family?”

Rowan’s stomach emptied out. October 13th, the night of Aelin’s album release party and one of their biggest fights. The night he’d lied, saying he was with Lorcan when he’d been over at Lyria’s, comforting her while she cried. Comforting Lyria over the record label rejection, when he should’ve been with Aelin, celebrating with her. 

He gazed up at Aelin, who looked heartbreakingly beautiful in a simple white crop top with princess sleeves and low-rise jeans, that showed off her muscled body in a stupidly perfect way. He couldn’t help but think of how he would peel those clothes off her if he hadn’t been such an idiot…get a grip, man. Creep. 

“There’s no us in us when I’m lacking trust,” Aelin continued, and he forced his mind into the present - even worse. Her expression was reserved as her eyes floated over the audience, looking or not looking for one person. “You wanna discuss, ugh, you disgust me…”

The words sliced through him. You disgust me. 

__

Aelin couldn’t tell if she sounded good or not, but she was getting into the mood of the song now. “Don’t make me cuss you out, why’d you let me down? Don’t say sorry now.”

Her voice was rising as she got to the climax of the song, the part she’d truly poured out of the sobs that had wracked her body that night. “And thanks to you I, I can’t love right, I get nice guys and villainize him,” she crooned. “Read their texts like they're having sex right now, scared I’ll find out that it’s true..”

As she sang, she closed her eyes and unlocked the gates she’d built brick by brick over the past five months, the pain and despair from Rowan flowing out her heart and into her voice. “And if I do, then I blame you for every worst that I assume; when I’m 45 someone calls me their wife and he fucks,” at that word, her voice broke in the crooning sort of way that she loves, “our lives in one selfish night.” The lyric, the story, the truth. 

__

Rowan was in heaven because the subject of his every desire was standing in front of him singing with the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard, and he was in hell because she was singing a heartbreaking song about him. 

“Don’t think I’ll find forgiveness as fast as mom did,” Aelin said, and that was the moment when her beautiful, beautiful eyes rested on Rowan. Electricity coursed through him as she did, and he held her gaze as if her irises were his last lifeline. The most heartbreaking and despairing expression flickered across her exquisite face and it was all Rowan could do not to leap out of his chair and hold her as she pointed an accusing finger at him and cried; “And God, I love you, but you’re such a dipshit.”

__

“Please fucking fix this,” Aelin neared-whispered as the song crested, the instrumentals fading and becoming sadder, more mellow. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, Rowan’s piercing green eyes sending sparks through her body, “‘Cause you were all I looked up to.” and Lyria placed a possessive hand on her boyfriend’s arm, placing a kiss to his muscled shoulder, “And now I can’t even look at you,” and Aelin looked away and lowered her arm as the roaring of the audience overwhelmed the room. 

[oyesmendes]

message in a bottle

a/n: sadness, anger, breakups; and words, lots of it. this was inspired by a couple of new songs i've heard, and you can find them in a playlist i linked below! as usual... comments and love are much appreciated <3

in which singer!y/n leaves five messages on her new album for her ex-boyfriend, charles leclerc. 

masterlist here! | playlist here

"mate! did you see?" pierre opened the door to his best friend's apartment, eyes glued to the screen as he set the borrowed clothing items down. 

charles looked up from the piano score to him, "see what?" 

"razzo's new album, she just put it out last week." charles stared blankly at pierre. he hadn't heard your nickname on such a long time, it almost didn't register to his brain. but of course, how could the universe let him forget about you? 

his razzo. his little sky rocket. the nickname you'd gotten from his grandma the first time you visited monaco. and it stuck ever since then. 

"do you want to listen to it?" pierre asked.

charles felt like a deer caught in headlights. because he in fact, did really want to listen to the sound of your voice again, but will he ever admit to it? 

"no- no, no. there isn't a need to." 

"are you sure?" pierre asked again. charles nodded, distracting himself by arranging the score sheet that sat perfectly on the piano. 

"okay, i'm just dropping these off. gotta go." 

the door closes, and charles takes out his phone immediately, typing your name into the search bar on instagram. of course, you pop up almost instantly, and charles doesn't hesitate before clicking on your name. 

his heart flutters when he sees the first picture on your feed. a picture of you smiling from ear to ear, champagne in your hand - classic album release picture; 

thereal_y/n: more than a million streams in two days. you guys are unreal! 

he reads the congratulatory messages in the comments, scrolling through all your mutual friends until he stops by one that catches his eye. 

fans_ofy/n: tell me that cover isn't of monaco?

there's a flurry of other comments following it, and charles couldn't help but to continue scrolling through. 

then he sees it in the next post. 

the title of the EP - message in a bottle. it was in your handwriting, covering the center of a picture which made charles gasp. that picture. the one he was all too familiar with. the one you took using your film camera in the summer of 2019 - the sunset in monaco, with charles back view being the focal point of it all. 

his heart nearly plummets to the ground.

this is why pierre asked if he wanted to listen.

now charles couldn't help but to click on the link in your bio, which led straight to the album on spotify. twenty tracks. ten of which were your voice notes. 

he connects his phone to the bluetooth speakers, and pressed play. 

go the distance - 

"ahhh the opening of an ep. it has to be a banger, right?" you chuckle, "i wrote this a couple of years back when i was in a long distance relationship. It was tough, the both of us having to travel the world for our jobs, we hardly got to see each other." 

charles had to hit pause, the sound of your voice too shocking to his system. he covers his mouth with his hand. you sounded so soft, so gentle, like the calm in the absolute chaos of the world. he pressed play.

"and even if we did, it was usually only for a couple of days. it was rough, being so far from the one you loved, but i knew that deep down it was always worth to hold on, because we were so good, and we had the chance of going the distance."

it goes silent for two seconds, before jumping to the tune he knew all too well.

deep down i know, we'll go the distance. charles knew every word to that song. the familiar melody echoing through his house all those years before. hell, he had that song even before it was put together like this. the raw vocals, the squeaking of guitar chords was all he could remember. the way you both slow danced in the kitchen to the stripped down version of it. 

he knew the meaning behind every word, the story each line held. it felt like a cruel trip down memory lane, the silhouettes of you and him now floating around the apartment you once shared with him. it was your song with him - yknow the one that every couple has? yeah, this was it.

it wasn't long before the three minutes and forty seconds are up, and the song ends, allowing your voice to come through the speakers again. 

heart won't let me -

"now this one," you sigh, "it's a complete switch of moods, a switch in timeline. go the distance was very much at the start of a relationship, when you think everything would work; but then comes heart won't let me, which shows how things don't work. how you're constantly arguing about the same things over and over again. how you struggle to work things out with your partner and you should probably leave but your heart doesn't allow you to." 

charles heart squeezes at your words. it went back to you and him, standing in this very apartment, arguing about something he didn't remember - 

"why the fuck are we doing this, charles?" you stand, back pressed against the counter top, your arms folded in front of you. 

charles rubs his face with his hand, "i don't know! you're the one making a big fuss out of it." 

"yeah because you promised to come to the show, charles! my parents, friends, they were all there, excited to see you again-" 

"i had a bad race, y/n. forgive me if i didn't want to entertain your people." he said sarcastically. 

"then maybe i should leave." you mutter. you grab your keys, one hand on the door, but charles grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. he closes the gap between the two of you, resting his head on top of yours, whispering softly, 

"no, don't go." 

tears now ran down his face, and he wipes them with the back of his hand. everytime i try, everytime i try to leave, my heart won't let me.

"fuck me," he pauses the song, grabbing a beer from the fridge that he shouldn't be drinking. he scrolls through the tracks, reading each one of the titles. but it doesn't give him much hints, or any form of preempt for his heart. 

the next song plays. 

what a time -

"what a time - this one has got to be my favourite. it literally came about with one chord and one phrase from me. ahaha, we were in the studio pretty soon after my breakup, and mikey just looked at me, asking why i looked so grim. he was playing a chord over and over again and i told him about my breakup, about everything." 

"fuck." charles mutters, taking another swig from the bottle. he didn't know if he could take it. not hearing your voice for six months straight, and he's now listened to it for ten minutes.

"but yeah, this is about a night i had with someone. we were in belgium, it was literally in the middle of the night-" you laugh breathlessly, "we sat in a park and talked for hours upon hours about our future. and when i look back at it now i just think - what a time, yknow?"

"mmm, and i thought it would be good to have a male perspective of things; because breakups or relationships, they always involve two people, and i wanted to hear the other side, his side of things. that's how niall came into the picture. we wrote this, pretty much in twenty minutes? now i'm just rambling, haha- hope you guys like this one as much as i do." 

charles holds on to the neck of the beer bottle so tightly that his knuckles turn white. i admit that i think about it sometimes. your voice start to turn into white noise.

you both sat on a park bench at 2AM in the morning, just after the belgium gp. charles head was in your lap, your hand massaging his scalp. the air was cool, and quiet; the perfect setting for the both of you.

"how many kids should we have?" charles asked.

"i want two, at least."

"a boy and a girl?" you nod.

"where should we raise them?"

"monaco." you stated simply. he sat up to face you, "not in the states? or france - where your parents are?"

"oh never in the states. i live there because of my job, and besides, france is literally a stones throw away from monaco- we can decide when the time comes, love." you smile, cuddling into his arms.

irrational anger bubbles in his chest - who was this niall? and who the fuck is he to give his perspective on a breakup that he wasn't even involved in? what a lie, what a lie. charles disconnected his phone from the speakers and put in his airpods.

he needed to get out of here before he drowned in painful memories.

when you lose someone -

the elevator ride down seemed to last a lot longer than he remembered.

"more sad ballads...i probably should put a warning on this thing."

"this is about losing someone that you love. well to be honest, it was meant for my grandma, the light of my life that i lost last year. but in between then and the million things happening, the song got morphed into losing the love of your life. and yeah- i, i think it speaks for itself." 

your voice echoes in his brain now, fogging his mind. and he doesn't realise that pierre, his every loving best friend, was waiting downstairs. charles stops right in front of him, and the dejected look on his face tells pierre everything he needed to know.

"you listened to it?" pierre was stating the obvious. he knew charles would listen to it. he knew he didn't have the control to stop himself. he knew he still cared.

"i'm left with the last two." charles tells him.

"give me the keys."

"you're not driving my-" 

"then we'll take my car," pierre readily unlocks the honda. charles didn't protest, climbing into the passengers seat. 

he connects his phone to the speakers in the car, and the song plays while pierre drives into the night. It feels like a Ferrari racing. pierre hears the lyric, his eyes darting to his friend who's expression falters just slightly. he wants to press the radio button, but charles swats his hand away.

"maybe this was a bad idea." pierre mutters.

charles just looks out of the window, the skyline of monaco passing him, "just drive, please." 

he had to listen to it all, he had to know how much he hurt you. 

"maybe we should break up."

"excuse me?"

you had been arguing over the last ten minutes, over something so minuscule it was ridiculous. charles had had a bad race weekend, and you, well you had just lost your grandmother. the both of you in the worst frame of mind possible.

but you hadn't expected him to say those words.

"maybe i should leave." charles repeats. you frown, trying to close the gap between the both of you but he moves away. you knew the words were no longer an empty threat. they held weight; very heavy, heavy weight.

"why are you doing this, charles?"

"its for your sake, y/n." he couldn't even look you in the eye when he spoke.

"bullshit. don't put this on me when you stopped fighting for us. you stopped loving me."

"i love you, razzo."

"then why now? why after the funeral? why at my lowest, at my breaking point did you decide it was right to break up with me?!" you screamed so loud, charles was afraid the entire family was going to barge into the room.

"because i can't do this anymore, mon ange. but i promise-" he reaches to grab your hand, but you pull away quickly.

"get the fuck out of my sight."

charles takes a huge inhale, and pierre is at the verge of muting the radio. when you lose somebody you love. the hardest thing i've ever had to learn.

"charles-"

"pierre, please. just let me listen." but pierre hits the pause button on the speakers, stopping at a red light. he turns to his best friend.

"i have to tell you something." charles nods slowly, looking into his friend's eyes,

"she's in monaco."

time freezes for him. pierre doesn't have a choice but to turn back to the steering wheel and keep driving when the light changes. he sat in silence, unable to play the last voice note, the last song. the car pulls to a stop at a building, one that charles knew all too well.

and they let the next track play.

come back home 

"come back home," you sigh, "if you haven’t noticed, i wrote this for him." you pause, "this entire EP, from start to finish was a message for him. for us. i don't know. i thought alot about it, before i released this EP. i thought about the consequences of my actions and words. but the more i let these songs sit with me in a closet, the worse i felt. so i decided to release this, as a message in a bottle. you know? like the ones that you find at the beach? i don't know if it only happens in movies but yeah. this is for the both of us, for him, if he ever listens - to come back home."

from the outside, it wasn't clear who he was, because god knows you had your share of exes. but charles knew.

pretending that we don't care, but tension cuts the air. you never stopped caring. in fact, you cared more than ever. getting regular updates from the rest of the drivers on the grid about charles. watching every race, every interview, just to get a glimpse of him.

"why don't you ask him yourself, razzo?"

"we're not together anymore, pierre." you paced around your apartment in LA, the 2021 abu dhabi gp podium ceremony playing in the background.

"but you obviously still care." pierre sighs.

"i never stopped caring, pierre. charles was the one that left, remember?"

charles finally had the courage to speak, "she's up there?"

"she's with daniel and lando. but they're on their way back, if you want to see her."

he nods. hell, what do I know where you and I go? damn it, I hope you come back home.

both of them had gotten out of the car, resting on its hood in a comfortable silence until they hear a commotion.

they turn their attention to the noise, and there you stood, in all your glory. laughing at something the boys had said, arms linked with the both of them as you strut down the pavement. lando nudged you to the direction of the two drivers.

your breath is caught in your throat.

charles' heart races.

daniel and lando take the hint, unlooping their arms from yours, bidding you goodbye. charles had to admit that you looked amazing - dress hugging your curves in all the right ways, your hair cut till your shoulders, the way it framed your face so well. oh, how he missed you.

pierre pushes him forward, and they make their way towards you; giving small waves to the mclaren drivers as they leave.

"hi razzo," pierre hugs you, "hi pierre."

he pats you on the shoulder, then charles, and they exchange something in french before he leaves.

leaving you alone, with him.

you laugh nervously, "guess you listened?"

"razzo-"

"charles-"

"ladies first," charles chuckled. it felt too real.

"would you like to come up? for a coffee?" you gestured to the lobby of your apartment, "i really just want to get these heels off."

charles nodded, following you up to your home. he operates on autopilot, taking off his shoes, then kneeling on the ground to help with the straps of your heels-

"charles..." you breathe out, a pained expression on your face. then he panics. he pulls his hand away from your ankles, standing up quickly. you hurry to unbuckle the straps on your own, padding towards the kitchen.

"water, coffee, tea or beer?" you peek from behind from the fridge door.

"water." charles replies. you hand him a bottle, settling for a beer for yourself. it was awkward, standing in an apartment with your ex, after releasing an entire album for him- to him.

"razzo. i- i je suis désolé. i'm sorry." charles sighs, sinking his forehead into his hands. you squeeze his forearm, a sad look on your face.

"je ne trouve pas les mots" i can't find the words. he tells you.

"then use your actions."

it almost felt like a taunt, as if you were mocking him. but charles took his shot, leaning forward and kissing you softly. something that he had been yearning to do the day you packed up your bags and left. and you let him, gave him permission to continue. his hand cupped your face softly, and he could taste the same strawberry chapstick on your lips.

he pulls away first, forehead still pressed against yours.

"pas besoin de s'excuser," no need to be sorry, you finally tell him. you caress his cheek with your thumb, "i'm just glad you got the message."

taglist: @primadonnasdream @dr3lover @chicadelapartamento512-blog @thebagginsofbaggend @starlightoctavia @d0ntjudgemy50shades @cowspew @justthatgirlxox @ggaslyp1 @fromthedeskofjoii @lorenakaspersen @words-4u @o0itsjustme0o @ambrosialilly @totowolfff @gulsolsikke @enjoymyloves @rmaddens @care2703 @katcontrreras @tattered-tales @luvrboygaslys @piceous21​ @shristi-jaluka @kyomihann @sgkophie @jpotterdilf @guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy @idkiwantchocolatee @monte-carlando @bigdiccricc @organasith @anthonykatebridgerton @icecoldtires

[inagetawaycarxo]

Jey Uso KinkOctober Smut #1

KINK PROMPTS USED: Sex Tape, choking, begging, lingerie, striptease.

Pairings: Jey Uso x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Jey Uso, Y/n

Summary: Jey watches the sex tape he made with y/n.

Warnings: sex tape, lingerie, striptease, begging, sex, angst, errors I missed.

w/c: 628

A/N: Might be a part 3 to Jey’s part in post-breakup run-ins. Or just me loving angst.

Jey wondered where it all went wrong. He had you and he lost you. It was Roman’s fault for making you leave him.

All he had now was photos and videos of you. He had an album of all the pictures and videos of you.

Jey smiled at the last video he took of you. Headphones on as he listened to your voice. Once the video was finished, he scrolled back through the camera roll. Till he landed on an explicit video. It was you in lingerie.

Jey slightly shifted. Making himself more comfortable on the bed. It was a sex tape. His heart rate speeding up. While his bulge growing in his sweatpants.

Jey pressed play. Eyes looking intently at the screen as he watched you bite your lip. Looking at Jey as he recorded you.

Jey’s dick throbbed as he watched you run your index finger along your lip, trailing down your chin, then down your body. He was sitting on the bed while you were standing

Jey grunted at the video. His dick throbbing even more.

“Fuck baby,” Jey voice spoke through his headset. You let out a giggle before, slowly swaying your hips as you undid your bra. Jey could hear himself praising you. Then letting out a whistle as you hooked your thumbs underneath the waistband of your underwear, gently pulling them down, teasing him. Putting the camera on the ring light table stand. You quickly straddled his waist. He wrapped his arms around you. Trailing your fingers down his exposed chest. Biting your lip.

You let out a tiny giggle as he moved in one quick motion, laying you on your back. Your thumb stroking his beard with your thumbs. Staring at him intently. He quickly sat up. Taking his sweatpants off. Revealing his hard erection. His cock sprung up, making you stare at it with lust-filled eyes.

Rolling you onto your stomach. He wasted no time in entering you. Making the two of you let out a moan.

Jey let out a moan, slipping his hand in between his sweatpants, and grabbing his already throbbing cock. Moving his hand up and down his shaft as he watched himself fuck you.

Jey let out another moan as you looked directly at the camera. Jerking off faster.

Jey watched himself wrap his hand around your throat. Pulling your head back. Looking down at you, while you looked up at him. Soft moans escape your mouth.

Jey felt waves of pleasure course through him. His grip on his cock tightened. It was getting harder to hold the phone. Your moans were like heaven. He could feel himself getting closer to release.

He didn’t know if it was because he was touch starved from you or that he needed to get laid, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

With one final jerk, he released. Coming on his hand and sweatpants. Jey let his head fall back on the pillows. Letting out a heavy sigh. Tears started to fall from his eyes, he missed you so much it hurt, he needed you back, but you were avoiding him.

Jey quickly exited the video, going into the messaging app. He quickly went into the conversation he had with you. Most of the texts are him telling you he loves you and he misses you. All left on read.

Jey quickly typed I know you read these, but please know I still love you and I miss you so much, can we at least try again, or at least be friends? I need you in my life.

He quickly sent it. Heart beating faster. He locked his phone as he closed his eyes. Bringing his hand up to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose…

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[falcqns]

Hii i have this request in mind like Chris Evans x Actress! Singer! Reader like the reader and chris dated for 3y idk but they broke up but the reader always visit chris’ family bc she treated them like family aswell specialy when the reader’s parents died so she spend Christmas there or any occasions bc chris’ family invite her and when chris got a new gf the reader is kinda hurt bc she still love chris but she try to look like she doesn’t care but then she released her new song its called deja vu (by olivia rodrigo) and she release it to her bday so when the song is released the fans knew its abt chris bc of the new gf (chris’ fam doesn’t like the new gf and the fans kinda didn’t support them bc of the girl’s attitude) and chris’ family invites her over bc they want to show the reader something and when the reader got there they surprise her for her bday and congratulate her and turns out chris is there too with his new gf🤨and the reader knew chris’ new gf hated her bc of her look and scott called you all to the living room and watch the mv of the reader’s new song and when the mv ends scott and the fam congratuleted the reader and chris’ gf is giving the reader looks again and chris is noticing it and when the reader is in the kitchen alone getting something chris talk to her and congratulate her and chris’ new gf wrapped her arms around chris and chris tried to stop her to make a scene but she started a scene and scream at the reader but the reader cut her off and embarrassing her and the reader prove the new gf shes first not her (idk if that make sense lol) and the new gf leave(idk you can make her a random name so its not only “new gf”) and the reader and chris talk and they got back together, you can do wha you want at the end this is just so random bc i was listening to deja vu and advance thank you if you do my request! Stay safe! ❤️ and im so sorry if this is so long

Deja Vu

pairing: Chris Evans x singer!reader

warnings: parents death, major angst, fluff. 

a/n: thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

You had known Chris since college, when you had met him in your communications class. You two had grown close quickly, and became best friends. 

He brought you home every Christmas Eve, before you would go home to your parents house on Christmas Day. You had always felt like a part of the family, so when your parents passed a way, you turned to him. 

You and your parents were driving home from a Christmas Day church service, when you were hit by a semi truck. It had completely totalled the car, and your parents had died on impact. You had been sitting in the back, and only had a broken leg from where your moms seat had been pushed back into it roughly. 

You had been pulled from the car and sat in a second ambulance, while your parents were transported in another. You knew you'd never forget watching that ambulance door close and drive away, knowing that was the last time you'd ever see them. 

When the police officers asked if there was anyone you could call, you didn't know what to do. Your parents were both only children, so you had no aunts, uncles or cousins. You were an only child too, so you had no siblings, and your grandparents had passed when you were little, your other ones passing before you were born. 

So when the officer asked you, you told him the Evans’ phone number. Lisa picked up on the second ring, and you tearfully explained what had happened as the shock wore off. She immediately said she’d meet you at the hospital, and not to worry, that she and Bob would take care of you. 

You were taken to the hospital and treated for your broken leg. Less than an hour after you arrived, Lisa arrived at the hospital with Chris in tow. They comforted you, and took you home with them. You stayed in Chris’s room for the first few days, and when you were given your own room, you still had a hard time sleeping alone, so Chris ended up in your bed with you most nights, not that he minded. 

You never went back to college, and instead turned to singing as a release from all the pain you were feeling. You started out posting covers on YouTube, and gradually progressed to getting a record deal with Interscope Records, which didn't surprise anyone who knew you. You had immense talent, and your parents used to tell you that they were counting down the days before you were a celebrity. 

When Chris graduated college and told you he was moving to Los Angeles, he convinced you to come with him. Prices were high in LA, and he didn't want to be separated from you for too long, so you joined him. He got to be an actor, and you got to be a singer, which is what you both had wanted since you were younger. 

You went to every one of Chris’s movie premieres, and he attended as many of your live shows as he could. You supported him through all his relationships and his breakups, and played the middle man whenever he and Jenny would fight, up until the very end. You told yourself you did that because you just wanted what's best for him, but you both kind of knew that wasn't the reason at all. 

Throughout your time living together, you friendship grew, as did your feelings for each other. You'd be lying if you didn't have a small crush on him in college, and those feelings only grew as time went on, especially since the two of you decided to only get a one bedroom apartment. Mainly because it was cheap, but also because Chris made a decision a week after your parents death to never allow you to sleep alone because of the nightmares that would occur if he wasn't there.

So, when you won your first award for your first album, named ‘hand in hand’, he kissed you the second you came off the stage with your award in hand. It blew your mind that he felt the same, but you were happy nonetheless. You two began dating that night, and everything was perfect. 

Until, you were invited by 5 Seconds of Summer to be their opening act on their newest tour. You had agreed, and Chris let you go. You two had been dating for over 3 years, and you thought your relationship would be fine. 

You quickly realized however that that wasn't the case, when the two of you started fighting less than two weeks into the tour. The fights weren't anything major, more petty things like ‘did you change the Netflix password’ or ‘why did you take this piece of clothing, that was mine and it was my favourite.’ All around stupid fights. 

You had turned to Calum, who you were closest with, and he consoled you as much as you could. You realized however, that you couldn't be with Chris anymore when he drunk called you in the middle of the night while you were in the UK and got angry with you when you answered and told him to call you back in the morning when he was sober, to which he proceeded to brag that he slept with his co star at the time, Jessica Alba, you freaked out and ended things. 

You got a message from Jessica on instagram the next day letting you know that they did not sleep together, and that she was sorry he even said it. You assured her it was fine, and felt relief.

Relief because you got to the bottom of the situation, but also relief from your relationship. You didn't know what happened in those few weeks, but you knew the relationship was turning toxic, and you wanted to stop it before that happened. Neither you or Chris needed that. You told him you’d find a new place to live, and by the time tour ended, you bought yourself a house in Beverly Hills, and moved out of the apartment.

Chris moved out not long after, and bought his own house. He had tried to stay friends with you, but you didn't want that at that point in time. You were still hurting, and needed time to heal. 

Once you felt ready to date again, you were asked to be Calum’s date to the Peoples Choice Awards, you accepted. You knew Chris would be there, and you were hoping to talk to him, and maybe work it out. He had told you during the break up that he would always wait for you to come back, and that he still loved you, and always would. 

But you knew that wasn't the case when he showed up on the red carpet, with a new actress named Myra Woodfield. You had smiled at him, while trying not to break down inside, but he gave you a dirty look and rolled his eyes at you when Calum wrapped his arm around your waist for a picture. You furrowed your eye brows and took a good look at Myra. 

She looked almost exactly like you. Same build, same hair colour, same eye colour. The only difference is that she was slightly taller than you. You didn't know why he was replacing you, but it hurt. You pushed it out of your head however, and enjoyed the night with your best friend. 

It was a few months later when you were awoken by the constant dinging of your phone. You unlocked it, and saw you had a lot of unread messages from Luke, Ashton, Michael, Calum, and your other best friend Ashe about Chris’s new movie trailer, you sighed. 

You watched the trailer, and sighed when it looked like a recreation of a bunch of moments in your relationship with him, only Myra was in your place. 

Your fans and some of Chris’s had commented on it, and Myra immediately became aggressive with them, and insulted them. She told them that you were a nobody who could make Chris happy, which she was glad about because she made him happy how. 

Within minutes of this happening the hashtag #cancelmyrawoodfield was trending on twitter. You shamelessly went through the tweets and like and retweeted a couple. Then an idea popped in your head.

With a quick google search, you had a plan. 

You had written a new song called Deja Vu after the peoples choice awards, and it was had been recorded a few weeks ago, and you just had to decide on a date to release it, and make a decision on the music video. Her birthday was in about 3 months, which gave you enough time to get everything in place to drop on her birthday. 

Was it evil? Yes. Did you care? Not really. Besides, you inherited your pettiness from your mother and you knew she’d be proud of you. You called your manager and label, and got it planned out. 

When the new music video had been announced, Lisa called you and invited you home to watch it premiere with the family. You accepted, knowing Chris and Myra would be there, and that her birthday would get overshadowed by the release of your music video.

So, three weeks later, you were sitting with Lisa, Bob, Carly, Shanna, Scott, Chris and Myra in Lisa’s living room, waiting for the video to premiere.

Scott had picked you up at the airport earlier in the morning along with Carly and Shanna, and the four of you had a laugh about the face that no one acknowledged Myra’s birthday, not even Chris. It was mean, but no one liked her. 

Lisa absolutely hated her, but didn't want to upset Chris, so you got a call shortly after the PCA’s from her and the two of you ranted about her for a good two hours. 

You watched as the timer counted down from 10, and then the screen turned black. You took a deep breath and watched Chris out of the corner of your eye. 

You had searched for a while for a guy who looked similar to Chris, and you stumbled on Andrew Siwicki. He didn't look exactly like Chris, but it was close enough that everyone would know who the song was about if they didn't already. Andrew was a fan of Chris and hated Myra too, so he was more than glad to help you out. 

The music began to play, and you watched as the black screen faded in on two people walking along the beach, holding hands. 

“Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream One spoon for two And trading jackets Laughing 'bout how small it looks on you,”

The next scene was a recreation of yours and Chris’s first date where you two had a picnic on the beach, and ended up splashing each other with the ocean water. Towards the end, everyone watched as Andrew picked you up and threw you into the water the same way Chris always did. 

You glanced at him, and could have burst into laughter at how uncomfortable Chris looked, but more importantly how angry Myra looked. 

“Watching reruns of Glee Being annoying Singing in harmony I bet she's bragging To all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm,”

The next scene was you and Andrew (who was dressed as Ransom) on what appeared to be a recreation of the Knives Out set, running around with a dog that looked like Dodger chasing after you, the two of you laughing. The next shot was the two of you kissing behind a trailer, seemingly hiding from production. 

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you,”

The next scene was the two of you driving through Southern California, in a car that was almost identical to Chris’s. You two were laughing and singing along to the song, your hair whipping around you.

You took a deep breath, knowing this next scene would piss him right off.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?”

This scene was you, along with the rest of Chris’s family sitting around a living room that looked like the one you were in now, a Christmas tree full of presents in the corner. The camera panned across everyone as everyone was talking and settled on you and Andrew and the two of you recreated the scene where Chris whispered in your ear how much he loved you, and couldn't wait to start a family with you. 

“Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same,”

The screen showed you and Andrew saying goodbye at the airport, with 5 Seconds of Summer standing behind you. They weren't actually there when you left for tour, but Luke suggested it to piss Chris off, and you had agreed. 

Then there was a small montage of clips from tour, including a shot of Michael elbow dropping Ashton into a pool, which made everyone laugh, except Chris and Myra. The montage was followed up by you sitting on the floor of a dressing room and crying as you sent a text that said “I’m done.”

“Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type,”

Now you were on the red carpet, with Calum right beside you. You both were wearing the same clothes you wore on that night, you hair and makeup recreated perfectly. The camera unfocused on you as you turned and looked at Andrew and an actress named Alexa Morrison, who looked a lot like Myra, and they were recreating Chris and Myra’s actions perfectly. The camera swivelled around and came to rest pointing towards your face, as you looked in shock, and a single tear fell down your face. 

“I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her Uptown Girl You're singing it together,”

You were shown watching a movie trailer with Ashe sitting next to you, while you sobbed at what Alexa and Andrew were doing. You looked at the camera and began singing the song, while Ashe and everything else around you was frozen.

“Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you),”

You were sat on the bed in Chris’s red flannel that you had stolen before leaving for tour, and you were writing in the notebook aggressively with tears rolling down your face and singing.

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was the show we talked about Played you the song she's singing now when she's with you,”

You were now being shown sitting on the couch, and watching Andrew run across the TV screen dressed as Captain America, an ice cream tub in your hand. You were wearing sweats and a t shirt, your hair in a messy bun.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? Oh Do you get déjà vu?”

The camera circled around you before transitioning to the next scene. 

“Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused),”

You were shown laying down in bed, and your eyes closing before an image of you and Andrew danced, dressed as Steve and Peggy in endgame, a scene Chris always told you the two of you would recreate one day. You had called Hayley and asked if it was okay, and she immediately said yes, and even came and watched you do the scene.

“Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new (I know you get déjà vu),”

When your eyes opened, you were sitting at your piano, and playing while singing along. 

“I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu,”

Suddenly, the piano disappeared, and you were left standing in an empty living room as the screen faded to black. 

The entire room burst into cheers as the video ended, except for Myra, who looked like she was going to murder you, and Chris who just clapped with a tight lipped smile. 

Later that night after all the kids had gone to bed and Lisa was driving Bob home,  Scott had pulled you into the kitchen under the pretences of ‘helping him fix a drink’, which ended up just being the two of you gossiping about Chris and Myra, and the music video.

Suddenly, Chris walked in, and nodded for Scott to leave. You cleared your throat and ignored him.

“That was a good song, and an amazing music video.” He said. “I can see you're just getting more and more talented as time-” He began, as you rolled your eyes, and looked at him. 

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you.” He said, and you were about to open your mouth, when Myra came slinking in the room with an evil look on her face. 

“Nice job, Y/N. I’m glad I could inspire your music video.” She said sarcastically, and you could tell Chris was about to defend you, but you opened your mouth first. 

“Well, I’m glad I had such a snake like bitch to draw inspiration from,” You said, and heard Scott, his siblings burst into laughter in the living room. Myra’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at him. You looked up at Chris, who was leaning up against the counter, and biting back a smile.

“You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” She asked, and Chris sighed.

“Myra, don't start. Not now.” He said, she scoffed. 

“I knew you still loved her. Only a pathetic loser could love someone as ugly and untalented as her.” She spat, and Chris growled. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you ran out of the room, your drink abandoned on the counter. 

You ran into your bedroom, where you shut the door, and fell onto the bed in tears. 

Back in the kitchen, Chris had gotten in Myra’s face, and was yelling.

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO HER LIKE THAT! SHE’S BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT IN HER LIFE, AND I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO ADD TO THAT!” He screamed, as Scott, Carly, and Shanna ran to the door, unsure of what to do. “SHE IS SO TALENTED, WAY MORE TALENTED THAN YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON PRODUCTION TOOK SO DAMN LONG, IT TOOK FOREVER TO GET A PERFORMANCE OUT OF YOU! YOU OPENLY INSULTED HER AND HER FANS HOURS AFTER YOU WERE ANNOUNCED TO BE IN THIS MOVIE, AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO COME TO ME CRYING BECAUSE YOUR LITTLE FEELINGS GOT HURT!” He screamed, and Shanna ran and backed Chris away from her. 

“YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND! AND ITS MY BIRTHDAY, YET HERE YOU ARE, CONGRATULATING HER FOR A SHITTY MUSIC VIDEO!” Myra screamed, and it was Scott’s turn to get in her face. 

“You need to leave. If you don't we’re going to call the cops.” He stated, and Myra rolled her eyes before storming out of the house. 

Scott turned back to Chris, and was shocked when he saw him in tears. 

“You need to work shit out with Y/N. It’s clear the two of you are still in love, and you need to figure it out as adults,” Scott said, his sisters nodding. Chris took a deep breath, and looked at your closed bedroom door.

Chris walked up to your bedroom door, and took a deep breath before entering the room where he used to sleep in every night.

He opened the door, and saw you curled up in a ball on the bed, your body still shaking. He smiled sadly, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed behind you, and rubbed your back gently. 

“I’m sorry. Not just for what Myra said, but for everything. For breaking your heart, and for causing you so much pain. I didn't realize how much I was missing you too until we watched that music video and I saw how truly broken you were. I never noticed that before now. And I’m sorry I didn't. If I’d have, I could have fixed this sooner, and we could be together right now.” He said.

You furrowed your brows at his last sentence and sat up.

“W-What?” You asked, and Chris moved closer. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. 

“I still love you. So so much.” He smiled, and a tear rolled down his face. “You're my entire world, and not having you here is slowly breaking me apart. I didn't know just how much until today, but I can't live another day without you.” He said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you baby.” He sobbed, and his head buried itself into your hair. Your body shook with sobs too, and you turned around to face him.

“I love you too.” You sobbed out. “I never should have ended things, but-” You said, but were cut off by Chris’s lips on yours, and you felt yourself melting into it.

He pulled away a few seconds later. “Don't. It was my fault, not yours. I am so sorry, and I am going to spend the rest of my life making up for it, I promise.” He said, as he stood the two of you up and led you out of the room, and to his.

“Where are we going?” You asked, and Chris pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I have to grab something.” He said. He opened his closet, and grabbed something out of the top corner before turning to you. 

“I said I planned on spending the rest of my life making it up to you, and I plan on keeping that promise.” He said, as he got down on one knee. You gasped, as he opened the box and your dream engagement ring was inside. “I want you for the rest of my life, and the next. Will you marry me?” he asked, tears pouring down his face, just like yours.

You nodded enthusiastically, and Chris stood up. He placed the ring on your ring finger and scooped you up. “I love you,” You choked out, and Chris sobbed harder into you. 

“I love you too, and I’m never letting you go.”

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[ateezthings]

ATEEZ Reaction: Forced breakup with S/O + admitting their insecurities

@hongjoongscftie said: “Hey :) first thing,I hope you're having an amazing day! And secondly,could I maybe request an ateez reaction? I was thinking of the ateez members being insecure about something on themselves (like voice,looks,etc) and reader is telling them that there's nothing to worry about,and that they love them just how they are,and that they always will be there for ateez,but a week later the management is forcing reader to break up with their boyfriend,because it could affect their career,and as they are packing their things (member) walks in? I don't know if this made sense,and I'm sorry for my bad english 🥺”

I hope this is what you had in mind 😊 (Also please normalize dudes talking about insecurities)

 Genderneutral

Angst, Fluffy moments

Pairings: You x each member

Warnings: language, breakups, topics of body image, insecurities, crying (San’s part is the most heartbreaking)

Word count: 3.2K

 Songs, that convey the feeling I was going for:

     Twocolors – Lovefool

     Lauv – The Other

     Young Lions – You Are II

     One Republic – Didn’t I

     Halsey - Sorry

*~Seonghwa~*

“Do you like my voice?”

It was late. Seonghwa and you were in bed, about to fall asleep.

“Hm? Yeah, sure Hwa, there’s a reason you sell so many albums.”

“That’s not what I asked, I wanted to know if you like my voice.”

Now you sat up, he really was unsure of this. “Seonghwa, I love your voice… You don’t know this but whenever you’re gone over night, I listen to your demos to hear you sing because it helps me fall asleep.”

That statement conjured a shy smile on his face. “I love you Y/N” He pressed a kiss on your forehead.

…

“No no no… don’t leave me Y/N, please, don’t.”

After the very stern talk with their manager, you had no choice but to pack your bags. Halfway through packing, Seonghwa barged in, a panicked look in his eyes, worried when he saw your tear-stained face.

“We can talk about this… just please, don’t go like this” While begging you to stay he took your clothes out of the bag.

“Mr. Kim made it quite clear that I should leave if I don’t want to ruin your career… I don’t think we have a choice Seonghwa”

“We do, I’ll talk to him, we can be together... maybe we’ll have to stay quiet for a few months, but I can’t lose you, I love you so much and I don’t think I could live without you now, so tell me you really would be okay with leaving, because I don’t think you are” He spoke so fast, you had trouble understanding him.

A new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly approached him. “I’m not, I’m not okay with leaving you because I need you too.”

He opened his arms to hug you. Feeling his heartbeat next to your ear calmed you down.

 *~Hongjoong~*

“Ugh, I need to train more” He mumbled when he saw himself in the mirror.

“What did you say?” You knew from your own experience that insecurities could consume your whole thinking, so you wanted to prevent that from happening to your boyfriend.

“I just wish I had bigger arms, I look like a weakling next to the other guys.”

“No… no you don’t, you look perfect to me, you know I love you the way you are… Please don’t think about it too much, Joong.”

“Baby, I love you too, thank you” He put an arm around you shoulder and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

…

You didn’t remember the walk home after the talk with Ateez’ manager. You couldn’t leave him. Hongjoong was the first serious relationship you had in quite a long time; you couldn’t give him up. But you couldn’t lie, talking to their manager intimidated you a lot. You didn’t know what would happen if you didn’t comply, and you didn’t want to find out.

You were still in a state of shock when Hongjoong arrived.

“Y/N? Are you home?” He practically ran to the bedroom where you were.

“Please Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t know they’d do this” He helped you sit up on the bed and crouched down in front of you. You still couldn’t talk.

“Babe, please talk to me.”

Finally, you looked at him. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to do… I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to be the reason for your problems… Please tell me what to do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me” There was genuine worry in his eyes. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you… and I think we’ll find a way to deal with them.”

At the moment, you really needed him to be optimistic for the both of you. Slowly, you cupped his face with your hands, you never wanted to forget his face. “I’ll stay with you.”

 *~Yunho~*

“Y/N, can I talk to you about something?”

“Always, babe, what’s going on?”

You two were cuddling in his bed after a long and stressful day.

“Do you think I should get a six pack?” When you looked at him, he was biting his lip.

“Where is this coming from?” You knew he needed to be in shape to be an idol, but he was, there was nothing you’d change about him.

He still didn’t look at you “I just… Sometimes when we have dance rehearsal, I feel stupid standing next to San, we’re both dancers but his abs are amazing, he’s been working so hard, and it’s really paid off… we gained a lot of fans through him…”

“Alright listen to me Yunho:  If there are fans that are only here for your look, that’s pretty shallow, of course it’s nice to look at pretty people but your message and the songs and your energy is much more important… You are in shape, you’re a main dancer, rationally I don’t think you need to change anything if you’re happy with yourself… and if you’d like to know… I like your soft tummy; I wouldn’t change a thing about you… I love you.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes sparkling, slowly breaking into a smile “I love you too, baby, what would I do without you?”

…

Tears were running down your cheeks, blurring your vision while you were trying to put your clothes into a bag. A friend had offered you could stay with him for a few weeks after Ateez’ manager told you, you needed to leave Yunho. You couldn’t believe it. They didn’t leave you a choice, either you’d leave voluntarily, or they’d have to take more serious measures.

You hadn’t talked to Yunho, but you figured their manager did. You didn’t want to make it harder than it already was. Leaving without a trace would be the best.

Suddenly you heard the door open, no, you couldn’t deal with him now.

“Y/N?” It sounded like he was out of breath once he arrived at the bedroom where you were.

“Y/N? please don’t do this.” His eyes were wide open.

“What choice do I have? You don’t need me to ruin your career.”

“I don’t care about that; I care about you… I can’t live without you, please” He moved closer to take your hands into his. His eyes stared into yours, you could almost see his pain.

You let yourself fall into his arms, letting the tears flow “I love you, Yunho… I don’t wanna go.”

He held you close to him, running his hands through your hair “Then stay.”

 *~Yeosang~*

“Hi, baby… I’ve missed you today.”

Yeosang had just come home from work. You greeted him with a big hug. He buried his head in your neck and you could feel him shifting some of his weight onto you.

“Are you okay, Yeo?”

You could hear him breath deeply. “Actually, no, I feel like shit… Remember how we were recording our new song today?”

“Yeah, the one you practiced really hard for.”

“Yeah that. And I totally messed it up… I couldn’t get this one melody right and they were all telling me how I was supposed to sing it, but I didn’t get it right, so I have to go back there tomorrow.”

The way he looked at you reminded you of a hurt puppy, your heart burst inside. So, you pulled him into a hug again. “I’m so sorry, Yeo, that must’ve felt horrible… but I think everyone has bad days sometimes.”

“But it’s made me really insecure of my singing now… I don’t know how I’ll shake that off…”

“It’s okay to doubt yourself sometimes Yeosang, but don’t forget that you’re a professional singer, you have a great voice, so many people love your voice, including me, and you will be able to nail it eventually, you just had an off day, and that’s totally okay… You know there’s probably days were even Beyonce can’t hit the right notes, so don’t worry too much.”

He chuckled a little at your remark and finally looked up at you again to press a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you, love.”

“Now relax and let me take your mind off that.”

…

“Yeosang, I’m sorry, they left me no choice but to leave…” The tears were streaming down your cheeks, you had given up on trying to hold them back a long time ago. Yeosang however, still hadn’t said a word since he came home to you packing your bags. He just stood in the doorframe to the bedroom.

“I’m not going to stand in the way of you and your career, I know how important it is to you, so I guess… I guess this is good-goodbye…” Your voice was dangerously unsteady.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” You tried to wipe your nose on the sleeves of your hoodie when he handed you a tissue.

Slowly he walked over to you and took you into his arms. You could feel his heartbeat.

“Please, don’t go now…” His voice was only a whisper. “Y/N… don’t you love me anymore?”

In between soft cries you managed to utter a response. “I do lo-love you… but is that enough?”

You looked up at him. You could tell he feared what was to come.

“It is enough for me… I love you so much Y/N, promise you won’t ever leave without talking to me first?”

“I promise” The kiss that followed tasted like salty tears, but it solidified the love you had for Yeosang.

 *~San~*

“San, are you alright? You seem distant.”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine”

You two were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, but he hadn’t spoken much. Usually, he’d tell you how his day went, but not today.

“Are you sure?”

“Alright, no… I feel under pressure because I need to maintain my abs. Now that I’ve showed them, I feel like everyone expects me to be the muscular guy now… but you know that’s not natural for me.”

You felt for him. He worked so hard but now it was getting too much.

“San, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone… It’s fine if your abs are not visible all the time… You need to take care of yourself… mentally… and I love you with or without abs if that helps.”

He softly put his hand on yours. “It does help.”

…

His management knew you two had been dating for only a few months, but it was getting serious. And they disregarded that. Being forced to breakup never even entered your mind, so it came as quite the shock to you when Mr. Kim, Ateez’ manager, revealed that you indeed had to break up with San.

At home you were halfheartedly putting your clothes in suitcases, but it felt surreal. Like a nightmare.

You had gotten so used to living with San and to think that it was all over now, because you needed to protect his career made your eyes fill with tears.

When the first tear hit the floor, you heard the door open. San stood next to you just a moment later. He himself had red swollen eyes, you assumed he had been crying too.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about leaving me?”

“What choice do we have?” Your tears threatened to spill again.

“I-I don’t know right now, Y/N, but I’ll figure something- we will figure something out, please don’t do this right now, I can’t have you leave me, please.” The more he spoke, the faster and the more panicked his tone got, his eyes opened wide. His hands gripped your arms on each side. You assumed it took a lot out of him not to shake you.

“San, I don’t think that’s a- a possibility anymore… Mr. Kim, he sounded so serious…”

Suddenly he let go of you and took a step back. “Do you- do you want to go?”

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. It was late and you were drained. Apparently, you hesitated a little too long for San’s liking because he turned around, headed for the door.

“No, San, don’t leave, please, I don’t-” But he was already out the door.

Had you not felt broken-down, you might have followed him out the door, but not like this. You collapsed to your knees and let the tears wash the little composure that was left, away.

 *~Mingi~*

“Wow, Y/N, you look gorgeous.”

Mingi entered your shared bedroom while you were putting on some makeup.

“Thanks, baby”

He walked behind you to look at the mirror. A few moments passed when you realized he was staring at his own reflection.

“What are you thinking?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “I’m wondering if my face is handsome enough.”

That was it, you weren’t having him doubting himself. You turned to look straight into his eyes. “Listen to me, your face is so unusually handsome, I’m still amazed whenever I look at you… your eyes are so warm, they’re my favorite feature of yours… also your face is doing a pretty good job at keeping your eyes, nose and lips in place, so you really shouldn’t complain” You had hoped a little humor would take his mind off his insecurity.

He chuckled. “That’s why we’re in a relationship, you always talk me out of bad moments… thank you baby.”

…

Mingi was already home when you got there. For a while you just looked at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Hi…”

“Y/N, I didn’t know they want us to break up, I’m sorry, I’m going to talk to them.”

You couldn’t help but hug him. He was your safe place. “I don’t want us to breakup, Mingi… I can’t lose you” The thought of not having him in your life drew tears in your eyes, it was too painful.

“Shh shh, you’re not going to lose me… I won’t let that happen.” He tried to calm you down by caressing your hair. “We’ll find a way” He whispered, more to himself than to you.

 *~Wooyoung~*

It was very early in the morning. Wooyoung was already getting dressed while you were having trouble to get out of bed.

“Babe, do you think my thighs are too big? I feel like my jeans are getting tighter…”

Once you opened your eyes you saw Wooyoung trying to squeeze his fabulous thighs into some jeans, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

You slowly got out of bed, not taking your eyes off him.

“Clothes can always be altered… and I love your thighs… they’re really… hot” You blushed a little.

“Is that so?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you.

…

Why did you have so many clothes? All the tears blurred your vision and whenever you put five shirts in your suitcase another ten were behind that, it was frustrating.

You tried to focus on the simple task of packing, trying hard not to think about the whole situation. You couldn’t believe they expected you to leave Wooyoung. You loved him, and he loved you. And that was supposed to not matter at all?

When you were done, you just sat on the bed. You were worn-out from crying so much.

You didn’t even hear him enter the apartment. Suddenly Wooyoung stood in front of you in the bedroom.

“I came as soon as I heard… I’m sorry babe… you don’t deserve all this shit.” He helped you stand up and took you into his arms.

“I’m just tired, Woo.”

His response was to hold you closer to his chest. “I know… we can go to bed.”

A few minutes later you were lying in his arm about to drift off to sleep, leaving your troubles behind.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

You could hear him inhale deeply.

“Would you- Are you considering leaving me?”

You didn’t think he’d be thinking about that. “Wooyoung, I love you; I will never leave you… I thought you knew that…”

He pressed a short kiss in your hair. “I just needed to hear that… I love you so much, little one.”

  *~Jongho~*

“Baby, do you think my butt is too big?”

You were just about to leave for work when you saw him standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom.

“Hu- wh-what?” You took a few steps towards him to give his booty a little slap.

“Jong, booties can never be too big” You smirked at him. “I love your cute little butt… and I love you… so stop being insecure about it” You pressed a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

…

After your meeting with a KQ executive, you couldn’t think straight. They told you, you needed to leave Jongho as soon as possible because of his career.

Somehow you made it back home where you collapsed into your tears. After a few minutes you mustered up enough courage to pack your bags.

You left the apartment with two suitcases dragging behind you. You had almost made it to the end of the street when you saw him running towards you. “Y/N wait!”

When he finally stood in front of you, he was quite out of breath. Looking at him drew more tears into your eyes. You had trouble holding them back “Jongho, we don’t have a choice, I need to do this, I can’t keep hurting you more.”

“No, please, I love you, this is hurting me more than my career ever could… please don’t leave me, we’ll find a way to fix this.”

He held one of your hands in his two big hands, his eyes opened wide.

You really weren’t sure if you could hide your relationship from his agency and the fans. You were so unsure of the whole situation, but you knew you loved him.

After a few moments of silence, you kissed him with all your passion.

“I do love you Jong, but this is going to be really hard, so I need you to help me when I doubt myself, when I doubt us.”

“I will, I won’t let you go again.”

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

but we’re still young || h. styles

warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to alcoholism, swearing, brief mentions of death, sexual references, discussions of infertility, googled medical diagnoses, breakup, references to covid, not really proofread

word count: 7.2k

summary: anecdotes of a relationship destined to collapse...

01 march, 2013

“Just talk to her, man!” Liam yelled over the deafening music of the club. Harry sighed, his eyes drifting between the drink in his hands and you. You were dancing with your friends, laughing as the skinny girl tripped over her own feet. Snapping his eyes away from you, he glanced across at Liam, “Bit creepy, though, isn’t it?”

“You have been staring at her for the past five minutes. That’s creepier than just talking to her,” Liam shrugged, patting Harry on the back. 

The band had been given the night off. Finally. Collectively, they’d all decided to go out together. That’s not to say they would be staying out too late, though - they had an early start the next morning. “Yeah, man,” came Niall’s voice. “Just go buy her a drink or something.”

“No,” Louis said quickly, arriving at the bar with Zayn. “Don’t do that. They’d rather you just spoke to them than try and buy them a drink. It makes it seem like you’re trying to get them drunk and, you know…”

Harry finished the rest of his drink, running a hand through his hair. Zayn glanced between him and the exit to the club, “Harry, mate, maybe you shouldn’t. If somebody sees you talking to a girl and leaks it to the press-”

“Well, then they’re a dickhead,” Liam said. “It’s your life, Hazza. Worth a shot, right?”

Zayn sighed, “Yeah, they’re a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be her who faces the consequences for talking to you. You know what they’re like whenever we talk to a girl.”

“Too late,” Niall said quickly, gesturing over to the three girls walking over to the bar. One of the girls was considerably drunker than the others, both of them having to support her. The five boys tried to be subtle as they carefully watched you and your friend sit the drunker one down at the booth by the bar. They could just about hear your conversation over the music. After all, you weren’t sat all that far away. “Jesus, Eileen,” you sighed, examining your giggling friend. “What did you drink?”

“I think we should take her home,” your other friend said. 

“No!” Eileen protested. “We’re having so much fun!”

“You’re so drunk,” the other one laughed at Eileen and your frustrated expression. 

“You know me, Nelly, I love a good vodka and coke!” Eileen grinned. “Once I have one, I can’t stop.”

“Have you considered therapy?” Nelly joked. “An AA meeting, maybe?”

You scoffed, slumping back against the padded fabric of the booth. Brushing the loose strands of Eileen’s hair out of her face, you wrapped her jacket around her bare arms. “Come on,” you sighed, “let’s go home.”

You and Nelly carefully lifted Eileen up from the seat to guide her out of the club. The cold London air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Yes, you may have been slightly tipsy, but you were nowhere near as bad as Eileen. Besides, Nelly was entirely sober. The only thing she’d drunk that night was a glass of lemonade. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d have a glass of wine at fancy dinners and that was usually the extent of it. 

Back inside the sweaty club, Harry was beginning to regret not saying a thing to you at all. He’d watched you leave the club with your friends and he suddenly just wanted to go home. “Tough luck, mate,” Louis sighed, smiling sadly at the deflated boy before him. 

Fortunately for Harry, he noticed something on the table of the booth you’d just been sat at. It was a set of keys. He quickly snatched them up and ran out after you. There was hope for him yet. He ran down the street after you. Thankfully, due to Eileen’s stumbling, you’d yet to get too far. “Excuse me!” he called. “Excuse me, I think you dropped your keys!”

It was you who turned back to look at him. His arm was outstretched, the keys between his fingers. You thanked him as he dropped them into your hand. Once he straightened his back from being hunched over, trying to catch his breath, and his face became illuminated by a streetlamp, did you realise who he was. Harry Styles. You didn’t say anything, though. You assumed he probably got enough of people telling him who he was on the daily that he wouldn’t need an extra one from you. He reached out to shake your other hand, “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Y/N.”

He grinned. Y/N. He knew your name. Your hand was soft against his. You were wearing this black dress, or maybe it was blue. It was too dark to tell. Your lips were red, maybe pink. You smelt of strawberries. “I think you look really pretty,” he said, thankful it was so dark to hide the red tint that graced his cheeks. 

You smiled politely, trying to ignore the sniggering of Nelly and Eileen from behind you. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, unsure what to say next. But he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from his grasp. “Can I have your number?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Of course you weren’t going to just give him your number. 

You shrugged, “I don’t even know you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Your younger brother had given you a full debrief on the members of One Direction last time you’d gone back home to visit your family. He’d made sure not to miss a single detail. So, yes, you did know him. Not personally, of course. But it felt personal. He hung his head, “Yeah. Of course. Why would you trust me?”

You knew he wasn’t saying it in an aggressive or sarcastic way. Really, why would you trust him? You sighed, “You’re famous?”

It was a joke. You were joking. And it took him a split second to laugh. Well, he chuckled, really. “I’ll give you my number if you write a song about me,” you smirked. Again, you were kind of joking. And yet, he nodded. 

“Deal.”

20 november, 2013

And write a song about you he did. You found yourself tangled up in the sheets of his bed five days before his third studio album was set to be released. Two months you’d been together now, and they’d been perhaps the happiest of your life. Running your fingers delicately through his mop of hair, smiling contently as he closed his eyes in utter bliss. It should have been sunny outside, the golden rays practically pouring in through the windows of his flat. But alas, it was pouring with bitter rain. “I have to go soon,” he grumbled, nuzzling his tired face into your waist, wrapping his lethargic arms around your thighs. 

You nodded, sighing, “I know, baby.”

“So much fucking press,” he groaned, forcing his eyes open. “Same fucking questions. What’s your favourite off the album? Who is this one written about? Are you single? Everyone’s in love with you, how does that feel?”

You smiled down at him softly, “Good thing you love talking about yourself then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, “Exactly. Just wish they’d ask something novel and somewhat fucking entertaining. Podcast or songs in the shower? Would you ever become a classical composer? Hardback or paperback?”

“What, and ‘podcast or songs in the shower’ is novel and somewhat fucking entertaining,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, a real exclusive for the journalists.”

He chuckled, dragging himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, emerging in no time at all dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans. Unplugging his phone, he pressed his lips to yours. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

You threw the covers from your body, following him through the flat. Harry grabbed one of his coats, before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

You pulled away quickly, staring up at him, eyes wide, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I guess I do.”

“I guess I love you too.”

When he returned, it was dark. You were lying in his bed, your eyelids heavy. He crept in, kissing you lightly. “I wrote a song about you,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him weakly, “You did? You kept your end of the bargain.”

He nodded. And so, he played it for you. You were curled up in his bedsheets, listening to a song a guy had written about you. And it was pretty fucking good. “When did you write it?” you asked as it came to an end.

“A few nights after we met. Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, grabbing his face to kiss him, “I love it. What’s it called?”

“Little Black Dress.”

07 january, 2014

Months passed. And every single one seemed to get better than the last. It felt as if you were high, right up in the clouds, every waking moment. But you were nervous. Your fingers were practically shaking. However, as soon as Anne opened the door to greet you both with her warming smile, the nerves just seemed to disappear. Vanish. She hugged you first, squeezing you tightly as if she’d know you all her life. She hugged Harry next, hurrying you both in. 

The house was warm and cosy and oh so welcoming. There were pictures on the wall of Harry and Gemma as kids and some of Anne and Robin on their wedding day. You couldn’t help but smile at them. Harry noticed you admiring the snapshots of history that had been framed and hung up on the wall. “Cute, wasn’t I?” he joked, squeezing your hand. 

You shrugged, “Not as cute as Gemma.”

You had met Gemma before. You’d gone out to dinner with her and Harry when he decided he wanted you to meet his family. She was lovely and too kind to you. But this was your first time meeting Anne and Robin. Their warm smiles and kind words did nothing but make you feel at home. 

After chatting for a while, they let you and Harry get settled in. You’d be staying for a couple of days before heading back down to London. He showed you around his childhood bedroom, which did nothing but fill you with joy. “Nothing’s changed,” he smiled, eyes exploring the room that still made him feel like a kid again. “I love coming back. Brings me back down to earth, you know? Back to home. I know it’ll always be here, no matter where I go.”

“That’s poetic,” you said. His lips curved up slightly and when he pressed his lips to your head lightly, you couldn’t help but smile too. It almost felt illegal to be so innocently intimate in his childhood bedroom, filled with long-forgotten memories of a life once lived. 

Later, as the sun set over the house that you already felt so welcomed in, you found yourself sat beside Harry in the kitchen. You’d become acquainted with the cats that inhabited the home and Anne’s gorgeous cooking. As Anne and Robin got to know you, you made sure to ask plenty of questions about them. The smile that adorned your face throughout the evening and the following days never seemed to fade or die away. And, by the end of your stay at Harry’s childhood home, you felt as if you’d known Anne and Robin all your life. As if you’d known the walls of the house all your life. And the pictures of youthful ignorances and watercolours of distant landscapes. And the cats that purred loudly as they ran their head along your legs the last thing before you slept and the first thing before you woke. 

And you were sure you could revel in the feeling of warm, welcoming homeliness of the home and the family for the rest of your life.

12 october, 2014

Nelly had looked truly ravishing on her wedding day. The white dress was an unusual contrast to her jeans and sweaters. You were convinced there was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Harry had been hanging off your arm all evening, like a lost toddler. He’d acted like one too, making comments about being tired and his feet hurting all day. You paid no mind to him, though. This was Nelly’s day and she was your friend and you wanted to be there to support her. You’d known the girl since your first day of secondary school when you were both a mere eleven years old. 

Eileen plopped herself down beside you, her eyes exploring the faces that were lost on her in the large hall. Everybody was mingling now, catching up with people they hadn’t seen since 2010. Her presence pulled you away from your hushed conversation with Harry. “I don’t even know who half of these people are,” Eileen sighed. 

“That’s how it usually goes at weddings,” Harry replied, taking a sip of the provided champagne, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“Like, who even is that?” she sighed, gesturing subtly to an elderly man stood with Nelly and her mother. 

You sighed, “That’s her granddad.”

“Oh,” Eileen said. “Are you sure? I thought her granddad died last year.”

“No, that was my granddad,” you chuckled. “That’s Nelly’s Granddad Joe.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. “They all look the same to me. White hair, wrinkly.”

Harry stifled a snort at Eileen’s nonchalant tone. You patted her shoulder lightly, also amused. Eileen had a habit of growing very tired of boring occasions very quickly. It had happened numerous times before and it always cracked you up. She started up again, “I never mind the actual ceremony, like that’s somewhat interesting. It’s the mingling I can’t stand. We’ve been here for two hours, Nelly’s already married, why do people care about this stuff so much?”

“Because it’s nice to catch up with people,” you replied. 

She lay her head down on your shoulder tiredly, “That’s what Facebook is for.”

Harry chuckled, “Well, she isn’t wrong.”

You tried so hard not to sigh so loudly, but it still came out louder than you perhaps would have liked, “Will you two at least pretend to give a shit? Eileen, this is our best friend getting married and you don’t care. We’ve known her for ten years, liven up. Harry, this is my friend and I want to celebrate with her. Just suck it up and deal with it. We’ll go soon.”

You were quite literally dealing with toddlers. You looked up when Nelly finally came and sat down at the table you’d been huddled around. She finished what was left of her drink and threw her head back. “I’m so tired,” she sighed. Even the bride was beginning to act like a two-year-old. 

“I can imagine,” you offered her your best smile. “So, how does it feel to be married?”

“Relieving,” she explained. “But somewhat anticlimactic. My feet hurt and I’m sick of having to say hello to every single aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece. Just to get told ‘oh, I never thought I’d see our Nelly get married’ or ‘my, haven’t you grown’? Yes, Linda, I have. Because it’s been seven years since you’ve last seen me, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

The three of you exchanged amused glances at Nelly’s grumbling. She was throwing her arms about, staring down at the white tablecloth that had a big wine stain in it. Your mother had knocked over her wine when explaining to Harry how much of a teacher’s pet you were in school. Obviously, you had to interject and explain that caring about grades didn’t equal a teacher’s pet. “Oh, you never thought you’d see your Nelly get married, did you? Well, maybe that’s because gay marriage was only legalised last year. Fucking disgusting,” Nelly went on.

Eileen quickly held up her hand, “Please, we’ve heard this rant before.”

Nelly sighed, glancing boredly at Eileen. You all sat in peaceful silence for a moment, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s large hand on your leg. When your mother finally came over, telling you she was heading off, you decided it was time for your departure too. So, congratulating Nelly and her new wife, Emma, on their marriage and beautiful ceremony and bidding farewell to those you were sure you wouldn’t see again until 2016, you and Harry ventured back to your little flat. 

Once you were showered and out of the dress you felt so beautiful in, you tumbled into bed, happy to finally have those heels off. Harry’s suit was stranded across your bedroom floor in little piles of shirt and trouser and sock. “Can I perform at our wedding?” he asked, turning to look at you as you lay your head back against the inviting softness of your pillow. 

His question and casual tone is what awoke all the life in you. You didn’t sit up dramatically and make a scene about it. You merely rolled over to face him directly, smiling softly at him, “Who said we’ll be getting married?”

He shrugged, “I think it’d be quite nice if we did one day.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, finding a wonderful level of contentment in the discussion of the future with Harry. “But you’re not performing at it.”

He chuckled, “Why not? Me and the boys. The lads and I. A bit of Up All Night? Some more recent stuff? Come on, Y/N, you’d love it.”

“Not when my new husband is singing with his little boyband.”

Hearing you refer to Harry as your ‘new husband’ certainly made him light up inside. And his head was suddenly filled with all sorts of fantasies of what it would be like to wake up beside you every day. To come home from a long day and order food in because neither of you could be bothered to cook. To get your first pet together, probably name it after a character in a show you were presently obsessed with. To raise a family together. To fight through the sleepless nights of infancy, but knowing it would all be worth it because, at the end of the day, he knew you’d always be there. Just as he’d always be there for you. 

And he smiled, because he knew this was where he wanted to stay for as long as he can. With you. 

15 may, 2015

It felt different waking up under the sun in Italy. Same sun, just… different. It was Italian. It was glorious. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of not having management drag Harry out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the refreshing release of the pressures of university coursework. Perhaps it was the mere fact that you were completely alone with nobody to interrupt you. 

Harry’s hair was splayed out across the cool silk pillows that rested quite perfectly on the bed you wished belonged to you. His tattooed arms were slung lazily over your body and the thin sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed in your sleep. It was something about being on holiday that always made you tired, despite doing nothing but reading or lounging about in the sun or splashing about in the pool. 

He was snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly. You were happy, though, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that replaced a wall of the bedroom in the villa you were staying at. It opened up onto the pool and had a simply marvellous view of the blue sea. It was a short walk into town, but you and Harry had made a point of exploring it all within the first three days so you could spend the rest of your overdue holiday cuddled up together in the sunlight.

When Harry stirred, his tired eyes still full of sleep, you finally sat up. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you back down. You laughed, trying desperately to pry his fingers off your skin. “I’m getting up now,” you said happily. 

“Don’t,” he grumbled, closing his sleepy eyes again. “Why get up when we can stay here forever?”

“Why stay here forever when we’re literally in Italy and there’s a pool outside?” you countered. 

“But why go swim in the pool when we did that yesterday?”

You shook your head at him, laughing. You pulled yourself away from the bed that could only be described as heavenly. He watched you leave, smiling away to himself. Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries, you wandered out into the garden of the villa. Soon enough, Harry joined you in his yellow shorts. Of course there had been paparazzi pictures of you and Harry exploring Amalfi, hands clasped together tightly. But, for once, you paid no mind to them. Usually, you found it hard not to stare at the pictures of you and Harry for hours, picking apart all the pixelated details of your face and body. You would be lying if you said it didn’t take a toll on you mentally. But, when you were able to turn your phone off for a week and just enjoy the world around you, it left you feeling refreshed and cleansed. 

Harry sat himself down by the side of the pool, letting his legs swing between the cool ripples of water. He lay his head back, letting his eyes flutter shut. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. You were both in silent agreement that this was where you wanted to go when you died. 

When you finished your strawberries and your lips and fingertips smelt suitably like them, you clambered up from the bench and slipped quietly into the pool. The water was contrastingly cold compared to the sun that beat down relentlessly but perfectly. You swam towards Harry, interlacing your strawberry-scented fingers with his own. He looked down at you, smiling brightly at the sight of such. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You grinned, “I love you too.”

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession with me,” he replied, shrugging jokingly.

You scoffed, “If anyone has an unhealthy obsession with someone, it’s you. Let’s go to Italy, you said, you can finish your uni coursework later. You begged me to come here with you.”

He smirked down at you, “Begged? You seemed pretty eager to me.”

“Well, you never have been very observant,” you joked, squeezing his hands tightly, before dragging him into the pool with you. 

When he finally resurfaced, brushing his long hair out of his green eyes, he reached out to grasp you. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your body submerged in the water. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he held you as if he was scared you were going to be pulled away from him. As if was the last time he would ever get to feel your skin against his own. “When we go home,” he whispered, “move in with me.”

You lay your head against his shoulder, softly closing your eyes. All you needed was the sound of his light breathing and the increased beating of his heart as he waited for any kind of indication of a response from you. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, equally as quiet.

You didn’t want to make a deal about moving in with Harry. The setting wasn’t right. You were holding each other tightly in the pool of an Italian villa in Amalfi, the world around you warm and serene. So, you agreed gently, buzzing violently inside at the prospect of all the adventures you and Harry could get up to living together.  

02 july, 2016

You’d lived in Harry’s flat for a month before you both decided to buy your own house. It was a lovely home in Chelsea that you and Harry had simply fallen in love with when you first saw it. It felt perfect in the sunlight and in the pouring rain. But, as you both returned from going out for drinks after your university graduation ceremony, you were quickly irritated by the half-painted walls and flat-pack furniture. 

A week or two prior to your graduation ceremony, you had both been sat at the island in the kitchen, when you both decided that you wanted to renovate the house. Maybe replace the grey walls in the living room with a forest green and swap out the black and white furniture for navys and mustards. The modern style of the house had been nice at first, but it quickly began to feel like less of a home and more of an office building. So, you decided to change it up a bit.

Harry recently got back from America after finishing some last-minute shoots on the new Christopher Nolan film he’d been cast in. While you’d visited him once when he was shooting in Dunkirk, you still felt eternally grateful to have him back home. And, while you could sit and hear him talk about what it was like working with Christopher Nolan and the likes of Tom Hardy and Kenneth Branagh, you grew increasingly stressed about graduating and renovating the house. But now the graduation was over and you were officially free of education. The renovation was well underway and you were actively seeking a job with your English literature degree. “Thank God that’s over,” you sighed, sitting down at the kitchen island after pouring yourself a glass of chocolate milk. “Finally free of the tiresome shackles that are higher education.”

He snorted at you, “I’m proud of you. Just think, you were only in your first year at university when we first met.”

You couldn’t help but smile. So much had changed in the last three years of your life. You were sat with your boyfriend, who had just come back from shooting a movie, in the kitchen of your own house in Chelsea, London having just come back from your university graduation ceremony. One of your closest friends was married and had been happily for coming up to two years. The other had just got herself into a relationship after ranting to you about how she wanted to stay single forever countless times before. Life was good and you were content in where you were for your age. Who wouldn’t be? You’d just broken into your 20s and were about to enter the brutal world of careers. “I miss your long hair,” you said suddenly, pouting slightly at the sight of Harry without his hair you’d grown so used to. 

“I don’t. Dries so much quicker after showers,” he said. “Stays out of my face when I’m doing stuff. Doesn’t get knotted so easily. So many perks to shorter hair.”

“But you looked so hot with it,” you said, mocking a sad tone.

He smiled, “Don’t I look hot now?”

You shrugged, “You always look hot. Just less hair to grab now.”

His cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so cheeky sometimes!”

“Just speaking the truth, your honour,” you raised your hands in surrender. “What shall we order in for dinner?”

“Up to you, it’s your day after all,” he smiled. “I’m just going for a shower, so just order me whatever.”

As he got up, he pressed his lips to yours briefly as he walked past, squeezing your shoulder. It was the domesticity of it that made you fall in love with him more and more. Late nights binging crappy tv shows and early morning leftovers and the moment of realisation that you’d forgotten to water the plants by the kitchen window. It was what you’d imagined the entire time you’d been with Harry. All of these hypotheticals that you had stored away in your mind were now your simply marvellous reality.

10 may, 2017

The topic of children had been brought up a few times before. You’d both agreed that you wanted them one day. Mid-twenties maybe, 25 or 26? You’d been together since you were both nineteen, but you were still young. That’s not to say that if you happened to fall pregnant now you’d be entirely opposed to becoming parents. Your house had long been finished and you had a decent job and Harry had his debut album and his film coming out. 

But presently, you found yourself sat on the sofa, listening to Harry’s completed album. Anne was sat beside you, silently absorbing the masterpiece that her son had crafted. As Two Ghosts slowly became Sweet Creature, you felt yourself tear up, only to look over and find Anne in floods of tears. You knew, as you listened intently to the lyrics, it was Harry’s way of assuring you it was going to be okay. You didn’t need to worry about starting a family yet. You didn’t need to worry about arguing with him. It would all be okay in the end. 

As the final note of From the Dining Table echoed across your living room, it was safe to say you and Anne were both desperate to hear it all again. Harry Styles being unapologetically himself was something you would be eternally proud of him for. 

21 july, 2017

Maybe if you hadn’t gone to the Dunkirk premiere on Harry’s arm, you wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy. You were there to look nice and give the newspapers something to talk about the next morning. Always something about ‘HARRY STYLES AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND Y/N Y/L/N AT DUNKIRK PREMIERE’ which would be full of meaningless facts about your relationship, your education and career and family, who styled the two of you. Of course, you were excited to see Harry in a project he’d put so much life into and you were so proud of him. But it was when you and Harry were being interviewed that you began to feel uncomfortable. 

It had started off fine with questions about what prompted Harry to star in a film, what it was like working with Christopher Nolan, that sort of thing. But, as usual, the interviewers managed to make smooth transitions into Harry’s personal life. “Y/N, you and Harry have been together since 2013, how does it feel to see him succeed on such a global scale?” one asked. 

Your gaze shifted between Harry and the camera behind the interviewer, “Well, he’s happy, isn’t he? And, as long as he’s happy, I’ll always be proud of him.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself at your answer, as did the interviewer, who knew they were getting some good footage. It wasn’t often you did publicity things. Obviously, you would have to be in certain places with Harry to spark some news articles, which were completely set up by Harry’s management. You didn’t mind that so much. But being asked about yourself and your relationship was something you didn’t like all that much. You’d go live on Instagram sometimes and you would get a couple of questions about Harry, which you were usually happy to answer. And if you felt uncomfortable answering them, you could just pretend you hadn’t seen it. But in real-life interviews, there was no escaping them and the hole the camera burnt into you. “So, you two have obviously been together for nearly five years,” another began, “is there any possibility of children in your future?”

Harry had been getting the kids question since he turned twenty, but this one seemed to make him flinch slightly. Maybe it was the recent tension you’d both been feeling about starting a family. Were you ready? Weren’t you? Should you get a home that wasn’t so central first? All these questions that neither of you knew the answers to. Maybe it was the recent loss of Harry’s stepfather and the ripple that had caused within the family. “I think we should get a cat before we have a child,” was your reply, your tone joking and your smile friendly, but your answer serious. 

Harry chuckled, “I think we’re both still quite young and we’re both committed to our careers, so having a child right now would just be illogical and impractical. I think it’s healthy to focus on ourselves and our relationship for a few years more.”

But that wasn’t the last question about parenthood. And with each one, you began to feel the pressure of society to start a family more and more. It was actually such a relief to get into the cinema, sit down and just enjoy the film. When you finally got home and up into bed, you had to roll over and voice your thoughts to Harry. “Should we have a baby?” you asked quietly.

“Not if you’re not ready,” he replied in a hushed tone as if he’d been expecting you to bring such a topic up. And, truth be told, he had. He had watched your eyebrows furrow more every time you were asked about kids and your tone become an increasingly stronger mix of shakiness and aggressiveness. 

“Everyone expects us to, Harry,” you said. 

“Well, they’re not in our relationship. It’s your body, love, when you want a kid, we’ll have a kid.”

09 january, 2019

One year ago, you and Harry had decided to start trying for a baby. You had both reached a point in your lives where you were happy and comfortable. You decided it was the perfect time to start expanding your quiet little home. Neither of you were to know the stress that would come in the following months. 

It had been a year. A year and not even a single sign of pregnancy. None of your periods were significantly late, you never felt the urge to throw up in the morning. No weird cravings, no weight gain. 

You were round at Nelly’s house with Eileen. Her wife, Emma, was out for the day so Nelly had invited the two of you round. Six episodes deep into the latest craze of television, the three of you found more interest in conversation. “How’s Harry?” Eileen asked after she’d finished telling you about the new dog she and her boyfriend, Charlie, had adopted. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to lie and say he was fine; that the two of you were fine. Because you weren’t. Every single negative pregnancy test resulted in an extra argument, more pressure and stress and lots more guilt on both ends. “Yeah, yeah, he’s good. We’re good,” you said. 

“You’re such a liar,” Nelly laughed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to explain everything to your friends. From the pressures of the media to the failure to conceive. The two girls sat and listened in silence, absorbing the piles of information you were presenting them with. And, when you were finally finished, Eileen said, “Maybe you should go to the doctors about that. If it’s been a year and you still aren’t pregnant, it might be something they can fix… you know, cure.”

“I’d rather not know if there’s something wrong with me,” you grumbled. 

“I think you would. It would be better to know, right? As Eileen said, it might be something they have some pills for,” Nelly said.

“They have pills for everything,” you sighed. “But fine, I’ll go to the doctors. Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” Nelly smiled softly as Eileen leaned over to squeeze your trembling hand. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“I’ll tell him if something happens. If they say it’s nothing, then he doesn’t need to know,” you said quietly. 

Nelly and Eileen exchanged a silent glance, before Eileen said, “It’s been a year, Y/N. It must be something.”

17 january, 2019

You sat nervously opposite the doctor. Your knee was bouncing and your heart rate can’t have been healthy. You had gotten up early, leaving Harry asleep in bed, to come and collect your results from the doctor. She smiled softly at you and it definitely made you feel more comfortable. “So, Y/N. Your results came back and it appears you have Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or DOR. Basically, you have a lower number or quality of eggs, which makes it harder to reproduce. Essentially, you don’t have as much reproductive potential left within your ovaries.”

Her words quickly became a ringing noise rooted deep within your ears. Your eyes fell from her own and found the horrible carpet on the floor far more comforting. You were alone now and you were beginning to wish you’d brought one of the girls or your mother or even Harry. “I-is there any kind of treatment?” you asked. 

She leant back in her chair slightly, interlocking her hands on her lap, “We can prescribe some supplements, which will hopefully increase fertility. But if you want a child, there’s always adoption or we can even try IVF. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You nodded, grabbing your coat from the chair beside you and slipping your arms into it. You thanked her quickly, taking the supplements and leaving. Everything seemed to pass you by in a blur. It took you a long time to collect your thoughts. And, as you reached your front door, it hit you that you were to blame for the lack of positive pregnancy tests. It was your eggs that were fucking it all up. You might even have a baby right now if it weren’t for you. You took a moment to wipe away the tears that were falling freely from your eyes. You rested your head against the front door before finally pushing your way through. 

Harry was sat at the piano in the corner of the living room. He was still in his pyjamas and there was a glass of half-drunken orange juice on the coffee table. He didn’t turn to look at you when he heard you enter, he just said, “Morning, love. Where have you been? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

He was busy scribbling in his notebook to take any real interest in your whereabouts. This was the problem with the hole you and Harry had dug yourselves trying to conceive: nobody cared anymore. He didn’t care where you went or how you were. He didn’t care how your mother was. You didn’t care about how his day was. You didn’t care how his friends were getting on.  Nobody cared anymore and it was driving you insane. “The doctors,” you said firmly, standing in the doorframe of the living room, waiting for him to turn around. To face you. To fucking look you in the eye and not be a coward for once in his life.

But alas, he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the scribbles of lyrics, “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Shit,” you snapped. “It was fucking shit. I can’t have kids. We can’t have kids. If you cared to know.”

“How come?” he asked, his back paying you more attention than his eyes. 

“Because, Harry, I’m fucking infertile. Okay? I’m infertile. I have Diminished Ovarian Reserve. So, we can’t have kids, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can try again later.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what you were talking about. You finally snapped in that moment. You’d had enough of living like this. “Why are we trying, Harry?” you asked, the tears you’d tried so hard to hide resurfacing.

“Because I thought you wanted kids,” he replied. 

“No, Harry. Why are we trying? With us. Neither of us cares about the other, we’re both miserable. You’d rather be anywhere but here. And I can’t stand this house any longer. We’re both fucking miserable so why are we still trying? Why are we still fighting for this? Why are we still fighting for a relationship that died months ago?”

He turned to look at you. The scribbling had stopped. The tinkering on the piano had stopped. He was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t think about it, “I am happy, love. Can’t you see?”

You shook your head, stepping back, “No, you’re not. You’re angry at me and you’ll only blame me because I can’t give us children. I need to leave, Harry.”

“What? Y/N, wait,” he said, but you’d already marched up the stairs to your bedroom. He knew you were packing your things up and what you couldn’t pack you’d come back for later. He knew he couldn’t stop you from leaving. He knew he’d be wrong for trying. Maybe you were right, maybe he was miserable, but he still loved you. God, he was so fucking in love with you. And now he was watching the girl he’d loved since he first laid eyes on her dancing in that club with her friends in 2013 walk out of his life. 

When you came back down the stairs, some bags thrown over your shoulder, you stood in the doorway to get a final glimpse of him. He looked up, meeting your eyes. Your pretty eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But he knew you weren’t apologising for the outburst. He knew you weren’t going to come crying into his arms and apologise profusely. He knew he wouldn’t have the chance to explain that they could work through it together. As they always had done before. 

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And you were gone. You did love him. You felt obliged to tell him so. But you needed to leave. You were being strangled in that relationship, in that house. And you knew he was too. You’d grown to resent each other, but you were sure you would love him forever.

13 april, 2021

The baby gurgled loudly, clasping your hair between his fingers. You smiled down at the little miracle in your arms. He was only six months old. But what a little bundle of joy he was. You looked up at the sight of Eileen emerging from the shop, tucking her mask into her pocket, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

You handed him back to his mother. You had swiftly agreed to look after baby Oliver while Eileen ducked into a shop to buy Charlie his birthday present. You both wandered through the hot streets of London, patrolling the fresh fruit market that radiated a vast variety of marvellous scents. Oliver was asleep, the sun making him tired. You liked the little world you’d built up for yourself since 2019. You were a couple of years older with a flat of your own, with plants you still forget to water. And yet, you couldn’t help the prideful smile that took over your features when you heard that Harry had won a Grammy. Any bitterness you’d felt for him soon dissipated. It was your fault for the collapse of your relationship as much as it was his. 

But, when you saw Harry Styles purchasing some fresh strawberries just a few metres away, it all came flooding back. A tsunami of forgotten memories. You felt like a young and innocent university student who fell in love too quickly again. Maybe that was the reason you approached him. As he turned to leave the stand, his eyes connected with yours. You smiled softly, “Hi, Harry.”

[heyyyharry]

THE 1 (inspired by "the 1" by Taylor Swift)

...in which Y/N sees her ex again in a dream.

Word count: 1.5k

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Y/N opened her eyes and found herself standing in a hallway. The walls on both sides were painted black, and so was the ceiling. There was only one door in front of her, and as she looked back over her shoulder, the hallway stretched far and beyond into the shadow of nothingness. She had no choice but to move forward. She reached the door, turned the handle, opened it and stepped in. Embraced by the warm orange light, she found herself in her bedroom. She wasn’t the only one there, though.

He was sitting on her bed. His eyes lit up with a smile when he saw her as if he’d been expecting her. Why is he here? she wondered, then asked aloud, “Am I dreaming?”

Harry chuckled and patted the spot beside him on the bed. Hesitantly, she came and sat down. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, feel his skin, but she wasn't sure she could. If she did that, and it wasn't a dream, she'd be embarrassed; if she did that, and it was a dream, she'd be disappointed.

"Why do you think so?" he asked. She hadn't heard his voice in years, only on videos. It was just as warm and homely as she'd remembered.

She felt tears stinging her eyes as she said, "Because you're in New York this week for a show."

He pressed his lips together, a haunting yet tender smile. "That's right," he said. "And you're in London. Warm and safe in your bed."

After a moment of nothing but silent eye contact and the rapid pounding of her nervous little heart, he asked, "You okay?" British people sometimes asked this question when they wanted to ask, "How are you?" So Y/N wasn't sure what Harry meant in this case. Did he want to know how she was, or was he just checking if she was okay after what had happened between them years ago?

"I'm okay," she answered. That should be good for both possible meanings of the question, she thought.

He nodded once, his expression neutral. "So am I," he said.

Those words stung her heart like a sharp needle. She didn't want to hear that he was okay. She wanted to know how much he'd suffered from the pain of leaving her. She wanted to hear how miserable he'd been ever since he'd cut her off without giving her closure. He wasn't allowed to be okay, not then, not now, not even after twenty years had passed.

Was this really a dream? Because shouldn't she get to hear what she'd wanted to hear instead of the bitter truth – that he was doing okay and only thinking of her as someone he pitied?

Harry sucked in a breath. “I’m so glad to see you again, honestly. When you finally see someone you haven’t seen in a while and know that they’re alright, it’s easier to breathe.”

Y/N nodded while fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. She felt this way as well. “Did you miss me?” she asked.

“I always miss you,” he replied. “Even when we were together.”

“So why did you leave?” she trembled. “You just left without giving me closure. You cut me off. I-I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.”

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“Then why did I have to suffer?”

Harry stared at her with his wide eyes. Even if he was just a product of her imagination, that shocked reaction was almost too real. “I was just wrong for you,” he said. “But if I didn’t leave, you wouldn’t meet him. You’re happier now. I could never give you this.” Y/N felt embarrassed that she’d temporarily forgotten about her man. Maybe she hadn’t expected that the Y/N in this universe where Harry was still in her life, could be with someone else.

Smiling, Harry reached out, took her hand and squeezed; his fingers were warm. “We would never have what you now have with him, Y/N. You wanted a secure relationship with mutual trust, while ours was full of insecurities and anxiety. The highs were too high, and the lows were too low. It wasn’t good for either of us.”

“I get it,” Y/N sighed. “Still, you could’ve told me.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, regretfully. “I was a coward. And when I left I was stupid enough to think that maybe one day I could come back and we could have the kind of relationship you expected from me.”

“You wanted me to just wait around for you and welcome you back with open arms after you’d left me like that?” Y/N asked, offended.

Harry shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t, but I was selfish enough to have hoped so.”

Y/N sat in silence for a long moment and pondered. “You know,” she started. “This is the conversation I wish we could have had in the real world. Do you...do you think the real you still remembers me?”

“Of course. You were a big part of my life.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped with an exhale. “You’re only saying that because I want to believe that,” she said.

Harry didn’t respond, only smiling.

“You know,” she began again. “I thought I saw you at a bus stop last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Then I realised you would never take the bus, and it made me feel like a fool.”

Harry threw his head back and laughed. “That would’ve been a crowded bus stop for sure.”

“Definitely.” Y/N rolled her eyes, chuckling a little. “That night, I had a dream in which you were doing cool shit, then you met some woman on the internet and took her home.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you meet your guy on the internet, though?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I felt awful for being jealous in my dream. Maybe I just didn’t want to think you were leading the same happy life.”

“I’ve gone through a very public breakup after us, so I doubt I was leading the same happy life.”

After he’d left her, Harry had dated a model, and their breakup had been so nasty he’d written a whole album of breakup songs for that woman. Y/N hadn’t listened to it yet; she couldn’t.

“What time is it?” Harry asked suddenly, breaking Y/N’s train of thoughts. He whipped his head around to look at the clock on the wall behind them. “Almost 2 AM?” he gasped. “Damn, I think I should leave so you can get your sleep. It’s gonna be a busy day for you, love.”

Y/N opened her mouth to ask him to stay for a little longer. She had so many questions for him that she didn’t know which one to begin with. But then she remembered that she would never know more than what she already knew. Because this wasn’t the real Harry. He would only give her answers she wanted the real Harry to say.

“Okay,” she said as they both got up from the bed. “Thank you...for coming tonight. It’s nice to finally have closure.” He had visited her many nights before over the years, but this was the first night they’d ever had a proper conversation.

“I might not come back after this,” he said.

She was sad to hear it, but it was probably for the best. She couldn’t keep dreaming about him, because she loved her new man, and she deserved peace and happiness as much as Harry did.

So she nodded, lips pressed into a polite smile. Harry opened his arms, and they embraced for the first time in years. His hug felt too real. It was scary how she could remember exactly how it’d felt to replicate it in a dream.

When he let her go, he cupped her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “It would’ve been fun,” he said, “if I could’ve been the one.”

At this point, Y/N was holding back her tears. She told him, “If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”

Then, she woke up as her best friend rushed into the room, yelling about how she would be late for the ceremony if she slept in. Still dazed from her sleep, Y/N reached for her phone on the nightstand to check for a message that didn’t come. There was only a message from her man saying he couldn’t wait to see her in her wedding dress and that he loved her very much. She put down the phone and rolled out of bed. She was getting married today.

[spunkpunx]

Bittersweet Bundle of Misery - Graham Coxon - Part 2

Plot: Graham and reader relationship struggles ig? Domestic Graham and arguing with Damon

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Smoking, Alcoholism, Drug Use, Cocaine Use

May 1998

“It’s lovely Gra, but I’m trying to sleep,” I groaned, pulling the duvet back over myself. Graham had his guitar out, strumming some chords softly. It was around seven in the morning, too early for me, but Graham was writing his album. He’d moved some guitars and some other things into my flat. I wasn’t sure why, his house was much bigger than mine, but he liked it here.

“Hang on, just sit up and listen to this one,” he requested, turning to look at me from where he was sat on the edge of my bed. I reluctantly got out from under the duvet. It was hot anyway, the morning sun had just started to stream into the window. I took a place behind him, resting a sleepy hand on his shoulder.

“Go on then.” He began to strum some chords, slightly louder now he didn’t have to avoid waking me. He began to sing softly, almost shyly, from the words in the notebook sat on his lap.

“I saw you today,

You were too far away,

It would hurt me to say

Hurt me to saaay,

The words,

The words I have to say,

There ain’t no sound,

When you’re not around,

And it gets me down,

Yeah, it gets me down,

My life feels so brown.”

I shuffled closer, laying my head on his shoulder, listening closely and reading the notes he’d scribbled down. He smiled, laughing slightly as he kept playing the rhythm.

“I just want to be with you,

That’s all I wanna do,

I just want to be with you,

That’s all I wanna do,” he continued singing, suppressing a chuckle as I closed my eyes, pretending to snore as I rested my head. Then the chords stopped. “That’s as much as I have,” he explained, leaning back into me. I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s brilliant Gra, I love you,” I commended, wrapping my arms around his bare torso as he put down his guitar.

“I’m gonna write a whole fucking album about you one day,” he said, wrapping a hand over mine.

“Bollocks, you have way more stuff going on in your life,” I argued, grinning.

“Yeah but you don’t get on my nerves like the rest of it.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Okay, maybe sometimes you do,” he admitted, shuffling round to plant a sweet kiss on my lips.

“You’ve woken me up now!” I complained. “Who’s on coffee this morning?”

“I’ll get it, I woke us up,” he offered. We cuddled for a moment, then Graham went through to my tiny kitchen. I spent a minute to tie up my hair and pull on some jeans before joining him. I padded over to the record player, watching him shuffle around in the kitchen, and put on Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness.

“We should go to that thing tonight,” I said, testing the waters for Graham’s reaction.

“What thing?” he replied, although I knew he knew what I was talking about.

“Damon’s thing, the party.”

“Why?” came Graham’s reply, a little testily.

“You know, the whole breakup with Justine has been a lot, you should try to see him,” I tried to reason.

“Well I would if he wasn’t spending all his time with bloody Jamie Hewlett of all people.”

“You aren’t still mad about that, are you?” I asked, feeling a slight tinge of jealousy that Graham might still be annoyed about the whole Jane Oliver situation.

“No, of course not, but Damon’s doing it deliberately, he’s trying to get under my skin,” Graham explained, his voice tense. I decided it was the best option to drop the subject.

“Okay.” I made my way into the kitchen, giving Graham a lighthearted elbow in the side to shift the sour look on his face. It worked, he grinned, poking me in the ribs as retaliation. “How bloody long does this coffee take,” I teased, lighting a cigarette and opening the window to let some air into my stuffy flat. Graham pulled another cig from the pack and lit it for himself, giving me a disapproving look as he poured two cups of coffee.

“Toast?” he offered, adding milk to the drinks, his cigarette hanging casually from his mouth.

“No bread in,” I responded. “Shit, where’s the ashtray?” I rushed through to the living room just in time, taking a seat on the settee as Graham came in with two cups of coffee, setting them down and settling himself down right next to me. He leant his head down on my shoulder, hair brushing my neck.

“If you really want me to go, we’ll go,” he said after a moment.

“Thank you, it’ll be good, and if it’s not we can just piss off.”

I hadn’t been out in ages. Neither had Graham. We started dating around Christmas 1997, and ever since then the easiest thing had been to hole up at home. Blur didn’t have a tour on this year, but the EMI label had work for me still. My relationship with Graham seemed to be the scoop of the century, even still. The first couple of months after the media found out were the hardest. I received all sorts of death threats and hate mail in the post. I could barely step outdoors without being photographed, and worst of all, every gossip mag seemed to be plastered with opinions on how much of a slag I was. Alex got painted as this poor martyr with a pushy, promiscuous ex girlfriend (ironic considering his known public image) and I was her. Papers like The Sun ran awful headlines, like ‘Girls And Boys: Blur bassist’s girl leaves him high and dry for band’s guitarist’. It was all speculation anyway. Despite the breakup, Alex and I were now more than amicable.

The real trouble came with Damon. We were friends after the American tour, and then around July things started to wobble. Alex and I resolved things, but suddenly Damon became very against Graham and I having any kind of relationship. His argument was massively hurtful, and he implied a lot of unsavoury things about me. If I’d known at the time how rough things were between him and Justine, maybe I wouldn’t have said some of the things I said. We came full circle, Damon back to making harsh assumptions about me, and me getting very pissed off and losing my rag. It seemed to be a vicious cycle. We were at each others throats from the beginning of the August tour and things only got worse when Graham got dragged in.

Although our arguments were usually under wraps, once we arrived in Australia, Damon began to insist Graham stopped seeing me. I suddenly became this great big wedge between the boys. Of course, things were shaky anyway, Damon was heading toward a messy breakup, and Graham was struggling with his alcoholism, but this new argument had really scaled things up. November was the last time we’d been able to have a civil conversation.

Graham shuffled round on the sofa so he could put his head in my lap and I sipped my coffee.

“We’re awake now, what on earth are we going to do all day?” I asked him, running my fingers through his hair.

“I have an idea.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

———

The house was absolutely packed with people. I was honestly surprised, I’d been to plenty of Damon’s parties, but this was on a whole other level, I reached next to me and took Graham’s hand in my own, not just for my sake but also for his. After all, I forced him to come here.

After slipping our way through crowded rooms, eventually I spotted Damon, sat on a sofa with none other than Jamie Hewlett. I dragged Graham over behind me.

“Hey, (y/n)! It’s been a while!” Jamie exclaimed brightly, standing up and giving me a friendly hug. I felt Graham drop my hand. I could almost sense the frown on his face. I gently pried Jamie off of me, he was very drunk. I smiled at Damon diplomatically, but he just glared. I wasn’t surprised. Damon’s resentment for me now ran deeper than my relationship with Graham. Things in Damon’s life were falling apart recently, and I became the scapegoat.

“Nice to see you Jamie. D’ya wanna come with me to get a drink, leave Damon and Graham to catch up?” I asked, and luckily Jamie caught my drift. He nodded, just as I turned to leave, Graham caught my arm.

“Come on, (y/n),” he pleaded. “Don’t make me talk to him.”

“Gra, you have to sort this.” I gave him a look, and then pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a little lipstick smudge. “I love you, I’ll be back in a bit.”

———Graham Coxon P.O.V———

I watched her leave with Jamie. When Jane left me for him, it was the most horrible feeling. The jealously, the loneliness, the insecurity, it was immense. Watching (y/n) follow him out of the room, the feeling washed over me again. I loved Jane, but that feeling wasn’t a fraction of what I felt for (y/n).

I sat on the sofa next to Damon in silence. I couldn’t bring myself to say the first words to him. In the end, I didn’t have to. He spoke up first.

“Did she make you come here to apologise?” he asked. I’d known Damon all my life, so I knew when he was deliberately being a prick.

“Apologise? You’re the one who’s been acting like a dick,” I grumbled. He tipped his head back on the sofa.

“Graham, you’re going out with Yoko. She’s a bitch.”

I felt my fists clench. This was why I didn’t speak to Damon anymore. All he talked about was how (Y/n) had ruined everything, completely oblivious to the fact that it had actually been him.

"(Y/n) has done more for the band than the rest of you," I said, a little snappily.

"You just had to go and fall in love with Alex's girlfriend, didn't you." He was being deliberately mean. Damon always knew how to get under my skin.

"She's not Alex's girlfriend though, is she? Alex is over all this, it only seems to be you who isn't."

"Well maybe it's because she's got you holed away at her flat, we never see you anymore."

"It's not her stopping me from seeing you. I don't want to see you, this is all you do now. I hate having to listen to you talk about (y/n) the way you do."

Damon paused and frowned. He chewed the inside of his cheek, not saying anything. Eventually, he stood up.

"I'm going to go and enjoy this party," he announced, ending the matter. I stayed on the sofa, watching him leave before I grabbed a beer. I didn't know where (y/n) was but I knew she was with Jamie, and that fact was burning me up inside a little. She looked so beautiful tonight. She was excited to go out so she dressed up, sort of. I hated to imagine her off somewhere with Jamie, in the little black dress that ended just below the top of her thighs, the stockings that peeped out just beneath it. It drove me crazy. (Y/n) looked glamourous, even though she was wearing trainers and one of my jackets. She always looked glamourous, even when she was sat about on the sofa in dirty old clothes. She looked like a movie star.

Right now, though, the movie star was in a different room with a different person. I didn't really want to get up and find her. She'd be annoyed I hadn't made amends with Damon, not caring what he'd called her or said about her. I sipped the beer, trying to get as much down me as I could.

———(Y/N) P.O.V———

March 1998

There weren't many occasions that I particularly wanted to leave the comfort of my flat, but Graham had come in the door and passed out in my bed, drunk, at 7 o'clock and I was annoyed. I was getting a little sick of his behaviour, but I tried my best to be understanding, hence why tonight I wanted to take a little space away from him instead of acting like his babysitter. I got changed and pulled his shoes off of his feet before I left.

Groucho's was packed, as per usual. It had been a while since I'd been. It was one of Alex's usual haunts, and back when we had been dating I tended to shadow him there when he went, but since then I hadn't had much reason to go. With Graham, it was nicer to lock ourselves away in the flat as it was to go out to clubs and things.

I slipped through the dancing people in my red babydoll dress. I was a couple of drinks in and in need of something more so I was looking for Alex, who I knew must probably around. Eventually, I found him, coked off his nut and swinging his shot at Kate Moss, who had come tonight and was easily taking the title of most beautiful woman in the room. I tugged on his sleeve and he spun round to see me, smiling when he recognised my face.

"(Y/n), long time no see! How's Graham? Is he here?" he asked, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek as greeting. It was amazing how normal things were between me and Alex given the nature of our breakup. Kate stood next to him, looking bored but giving me a polite smile.

"He's in bed, I was actually wondering if you had any charlie?" He patted his pocket, rummaging around before producing a small bag of white powder. I tried to pass him a few bank notes but he swatted my hand away.

"Don't worry about it, it's on me, I've had most of that bag anyway."

I thanked him and left, blowing a kiss which he pretended to catch and put in his pocket. He was a charmer, always had been. I slinked away to one of the toilets near the back of the club, one that hardly got used. When I walked in there was already a woman in there, crying in front of her reflection. I caught her eye in the mirror and she stood up, wiping her tears. I didn't know Justine Frischmann was capable of crying. She seemed so cool and strong all the time, it didn't seem quite right.

"Hey, Justine, what's up?" I asked her, softly, coming closer as she shielded her face from me slightly.

"Nothing."

"Come on lady, if you can't spill it to a random drunk woman in a public loo, who can you spill it to?" I joked, putting a hand on her back.

"That's true," she said, smiling slightly.

"Plus, if it's about Damon, you know better than anybody that I'm the last person he's going to talk to, so there's no chance I'll let it slip," I pointed out. She sighed.

"I just don't know what to do, (y/n)," she shared, her voice tired and worn. It was a strange situation. I'd probably only spoken to Justine a handful of times, but sometimes a stranger was the best person for advice. "We fight, we argue, I love him, but all we seem to do now is hurt each other. He thinks Blur are more important than Elastica and he hates that we did so well in America."

I paused, giving it a think. She looked at me for my response, her eyes desperate for an answer, a far cry from the gorgeous dark haired girl with the snarl that I knew from Top of The Pops.

"It depends on whether he's trying or not. If he's trying his hardest to be decent, but still keeps hurting you, then he needs help. If he just keeps hurting you with no regard or effort to change, then you can't help him. It's not your job to fix people." The impact of my words was probably lessened by the fact that as I said them I moved over to the sink and made two lines of coke. I was drunk, and I really fancied it."You can't change other people," I snorted the first line, feeling the sting in my nose. "You can only change yourself." I snorted the second, pinching my nose and sniffing, then sniffing a few more times. "Let's go dancing, don't let Damon ruin your night," I told her, offering my hand, which she took.

We spent the night together, laughing and drinking and doing lines courtesy of Alex. There was plenty of terrible dancing and annoying the bar staff, as well as drunk girl appreciation of each other.

"You're so beautiful," she told me at one point, leaning her head on my shoulder as we sat on the bathroom floor together. "And so cool. No wonder Graham is so obsessed with you. Sometimes I wish I could be as cool as you."

"What? You're literally the cool girl of Britpop! That's like- like your whole image," I laughed, disbelieving of her confession.

"That's only cause I'm in a band. You're like genuinely cool, you're like, the only female sound technician I know, and you always look cool, even when you're wearing the most normal clothes."

"Nonsense, there's no way that I'm cooler than you. Justine, I was too scared to talk to you when we first met. If you'd been famous when I was fifteen I probably would have based my whole personality around you," I told her, and she wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"You're so sweet. I don't know why we never hung out sooner."

I got a taxi home not long after, mainly because I'd drank a little too much and I couldn't think of anything better than slipping into bed with Graham. When I came through the door, though, I discovered that Graham was not in fact asleep in bed like I'd assumed. Instead, he was hunched over the toilet bowl in the bathroom, chugging up his guts. My stomach sunk with guilt, or maybe it was the booze. I quickly pulled my shoes off and went into the bathroom, quickly coming to his side to reassure him. He threw up again, dry heaving and clutching onto my skirt as I knelt next to him. It hurt to see him in this state.

"I'm sorry, Gra," I apologised, stroking the back of his head as he spat into the toilet. He shook his head, but he wasn't really in a state to articulate what that meant. I went and got a glass of water, helping him take little sips, and then he wrapped his arms around me and dropped his head into my chest.

"I love you," he mumbled into me. "I love you so much." I returned his words as a whisper into the top of his head. I took him to bed, helping remove his clothes, letting him climb into bed while I took off my makeup and slipped out of my dress. When I got under the duvet, I rested my head on Graham's chest. He ran his fingertips over my shoulder reassuringly as he stared up at the ceiling.

April 1998

The telephone rang out through my flat, disturbing my boring TV programme. I leant over the arm of the settee, answering it and returning to my comfortable position.

"Hello?"

"What the fuck did you say to her!" came an angry voice down the other end of the line.

"Damon? What are you on about?"

"Justine! She's fucking left me, and while she's giving this talk on why we have to break up, she gave me this whole '(y/n) said' bullshit! Is this what you've been feeding her when you hung out at Groucho's?" he demanded, going off on his rant. I had no idea Justine was going to break it off with him, but it didn't surprise me. I'd been speaking to her on the phone for the past month.

Something told me it wasn't a good thing when the tabloids printed the pictures of me and Justine while we were out, and this was exactly why.

"Listen Dames, I didn't tell her to do anything."

"Fucking sure you didn't," he interrupted. "Stop trying to fuck up my life you crazy bitch."

I thought that was enough of that, so I hung up the call. Damon was upset, his relationship of 8 years had just ended and he wasn't thinking straight. I didn't need to listen to him blame everything on me. I left the phone off the receiver so he couldn't keep calling, and turned the telly back up.

May 1998

We came in through the front door fairly early. Graham was drunk and in a bad mood, and I was just drunk. He walked past me to the fridge, opening it and taking out another beer. I walked over, putting my hand over his.

"Maybe that's enough for tonight," I suggested delicately.

"Oh, piss off," he snapped, and my face must have dropped, because his eyes softened and he paused, putting the beer down on the side. He stepped forward, opening his arms in apology, and I accepted his embrace. We stood in the kitchen for a moment, rocking from side to side slightly.

"I'm sorry I made you speak to Damon, it's put you in a bad mood," I admitted. Graham shook his head.

"It wasn't that, I knew he'd be like that when I agreed to go."

"Then what is it that's made you annoyed?" I asked, placing my hands on his cheeks and looking him in the eye.

"Where were you all night?" he replied, not quite meeting my eye.

"You know where I was, I was with Jamie... Oh." Suddenly it dawned on me and Graham's mood made sense. I couldn't help but laugh at the idea, and Graham's face flushed at my reaction. "Gra, I love you so much. Did you really think..." I let out another chuckle, unable to finish the sentence. Graham grinned as well, slightly bashful.

"I dunno, do I? You look amazing tonight, who knows what his intentions could be," he defended, taking his arms from my waist and placing his hands on my hips instead. I couldn't even dignify him with a response, I just pulled him in to kiss me. He pulled my hips in closer to him with his hands. It didn't take long for things to heat up as I nibbled on his bottom lip and he slipped his tongue into my mouth.

I broke the kiss and moved to sit on the counter, Graham's eyes lighting up at what I was suggesting as he kissed me again, hard. He ran his large hands over my thighs, pinging the elastic at the top of my stockings. I chuckled slightly.

“I thought you’d like those,” I teased, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

“I fucking do,” he sighed, as I grazed my teeth over the sweet spot on his neck. His hands found their way under my skirt and pulled my underwear off, excruciatingly slow. Normally I appreciated Graham taking his time to make sure I was enjoying things, but right now I just wanted him to hurry up. I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled his lips to mine forcefully, kissing him passionately. He got the hint, his hands moving to my arse as he pulled me to the edge of the counter, my bare heat hitting the fabric of his jeans, sending a shiver of surprise up my spine at the feeling. It didn’t take long for him to undo his jeans and slip inside my warmth with a satisfied groan. He set off a fairly unforgiving pace, his hands pressing down on my hips as he nipped and sucked at my neck. I let out a quite desperate moan at the feeling.

I don’t know why we didn’t try the kitchen counter sooner. The position was just right. I slipped my arms around Graham’s neck, tugging at his hair as he bucked up into me. I kissed him languidly, losing concentration at the feeling that was building in the bottom of my tummy. He let out another groan against my lips, his movements becoming shaky. He moved his hand to rub the pad of his thumb over my clit and I came to a shuddering finish, gripping onto him for support as it washed over me. He slowed down, helping me ride out my orgasm and then not long after, finished inside me.

We stayed where we were, Graham still inside me, panting. He pressed his forehead against mine, running his hands up my body before resting them on my face.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he shared. I pressed another kiss against his lips.

"I love you."

[alt-rose]

waste love - colson baker

colson baker imagine

waste love - you’re in a bad relationship, and your ex, colson, is there for you. 

word count: 5.9K (tis a lot)

WARNINGS: domestic abuse (lowkey kinda graphic), f-bombs?

please don’t read if this is a trigger in anyway, shape, or form for you. 

long story short, your boyfriend was kind of a dick. everyone knew that. your friend and co-worker, Pete had told you multiple times that your boyfriend Trevor was a pretentious asshole. even your ex, Colson, disliked him, but he honestly disliked everyone you dated.

you had called it quits with Colson right before Eminem’s Kamikaze came for him. you blamed it on lifestyle differences, but in the end, you couldn’t handle him getting wasted every night. you told him that you felt like he was constantly choosing drugs and booze over you, and looking back on it, Colson had to admit that you were right. you had a right to end it, but that didn’t dismiss the feelings you felt for each other.

for Pete’s sake, you and Colson remained friends. together, the two of you helped Pete through his breakup with AG and his struggle with his mental health. however, your friendship began to dwindle after a few months. the guys started to notice you slipping away from them when you started dating Trevor.

Trevor was appealing at first. he had a stable job as a manager for a production company. he stayed out of the party scene for the most part. at the beginning of your relationship, you felt like coming home to him was a break from the world. with your busy career as a cast member on SNL, you worked long and late hours, leaving you with two options: you could let yourself fall prey to the temptations that the New York nightlife had to offer, or you could go home. you tended to choose the latter and having someone to go home to made things less lonely.

by the third month, things had taken a turn. you had pulled away from your friendships, turning down opportunities to go out with them during the week. Trevor didn’t like you going out without him. you stopped talking to Pete and Colson for the most part, but you still saw Pete at work. Trevor didn’t like you hanging out with them. it even got to the point that Trevor didn’t like you talking about them so for your sake, you cut them out of your life.

for Colson and Pete, it was a blow. they missed you, and over the course of your relationship, they watched you change. the style of clothes you wore had changed. you traded in your mini skirts for jeans or loose-fitting pants; your dresses were more modest, always covering your arms and shoulders. you started wearing more jackets and turtlenecks. your skin was always covered, which is not to say that you walked around practically naked before. you were just less daring with your clothing choices now. even your makeup had changed. you were like a reformed version of yourself, looking more reserved compared to your usually expressive self.

unknown to them, you had something to hide. the jackets and turtlenecks weren’t because you were ‘always so cold’ like you’d tell people when they asked. you stopped with your makeup because you already spent so much time covering up bruises in the morning that you would run out of time to do anything else.

Trevor not only was possessive and controlling, but he also had a temper. it wasn’t that bad at first. it started with the comments. he’d comment on your hair. he’d comment on your makeup and clothes. you brushed them off at first because you were an independent woman who could look how ever she wanted to look. the comments were then accompanied by cheap insults taking shots at your insecurities. your tough exterior began to crumble at that when you began to doubt your looks and appearance. your confidence had faded. the last straw was when he had yelled at you for the first time. you were going to a banquet for his work, and he screamed at you for the dress you had chosen to wear, it was just a simple black dress that you thought was a safe option. he thought otherwise. he said you looked ridiculous, pointing out that it made your arms look flabby and that it gave you back fat. you offered to change, but he screamed at your even more, telling you that you were already running late so you would just have to go in what you were wearing. you cried to yourself in the bathroom as you struggled to fix your makeup.

ever since then, you made changes to your appearance because he was right. you started dieting. you stopped wearing your fun and creative makeup because Trevor said you looked childish. you started dressing tamer, only in sweaters and jeans. your spirit was dwindling away.

the first time he hit you was after the Tuesday night host dinner had run late. you were out later than you usually were, and Trevor had accused you of cheating on him. you of course yelled back at him, defending yourself. he responded by swiftly smacking your head into your pantry door and calling you a “lying bitch.” your head rung, and you pulled yourself away from him. you kicked him out that night, only for him to come crawling back to you in the morning with flowers and an apology. he seemed sincere so you accepted the apology, and he told you that he loved you.

the vicious cycle repeated for months. you’d be all lovey-dovey. you were happy, and he was kind. then, something would happen, most likely something small or insignificant that would set him off. then, he’d be angry. you’d fight. he would hit you. you would kick him out, or he would quickly apologize. then, you were in this weird period of walking on eggshells around him while he acted like nothing happened. then, he would do something sweet for you, like buying you a pretty piece of jewelry or making you a fancy dinner. then, you’d be the lovey-dovey couple that you were.

the things that set Trevor off the most was when you would support your friends. Pete had his movies out, and you wanted to watch them to support him. Trevor had caught you watching The Dirt, the movie that sparked Pete and Colson’s friendship, after it had been released to Netflix. Trevor was pissed. he claimed that you were still harboring feelings for you ex. you had argued that you no longer had feelings for the rapper/actor, but Trevor didn’t believe you. in his anger, he ripped the remote from your hand and had thrown it into your TV, shattering it in the process. the next morning, he took you out to buy a new TV, letting you pick it out so he could pay for it. you had learned your lesson from that one. you couldn’t have anything to do with Colson.

the summer was rough for your relationship with Trevor. without the stable routine that you had established with him when you were working at SNL, he began to spiral out of control. now that you were working on two films and couldn’t be in the city all the time, Trevor began to lash out at you to gain some sense of control over you. he grew violent and possessive, and you were grateful when you could travel without him.

at some point, you had ended up at Colson’s album party for Hotel Diablo. you had spent the night out with your friends, finally getting to party with Pete and Colson after months of never getting to see much of them. as strange as it may seem, the man of the hour had himself glued to your side the entire night. he brought you drinks and followed you around instead of celebrating with all of his friends. he danced with you like he had on your 21st birthday, the night that had started your relationship with him. later into the night, he sat with you as you lounged on one of the pool chairs in the backyard of the house that you were partying at. you started making smile conversation with him, now that you could hear yourself think.

             “how are things?” you asked staring up at the sky.

             “getting better, I guess,” Colson responded.

that night he told you about his dad’s prognosis, and you held his hand as you listened to him talk. he listened to you gush about the projects you were working on, and you listened to him go on and on about how proud he was of Casie. you laughed as he told you stories about the things he and his bandmates had done.

by the end of the night, it was safe to say that you didn’t regret going to that party. you didn’t think of Trevor once the entire night, and you felt free. however, problems started to arise once the party had ended. Colson had offered to drive you back to your hotel since he didn’t feel comfortable sending you off in an uber by yourself. you let him take you since he was sober. the two of you had stopped drinking about an hour into the party, and it was about 4 in the morning now.

Colson had his hand on your shoulder as he led you to his purple Aston Martin. you covered eyes as cameras flashed as the two of you left the party. the paparazzi had found you.

Colson quickly opened the passenger door for you, blocking the paparazzi’s view of you as you slid into his car. once you were safely seated inside, Colson closed your door before quickly making it to the driver’s side. he chuckled as he watched you turn on your heated seat and plug your phone into the aux, just like you had done when the two of you were dating.

when the two of you arrived at your hotel, Colson took your hand in his.

             “I’m glad you came,” he softly told you before placing his lips delicately on the back of your hand, a gesture that was foreign to you after the past few months.

             “I’m glad I came too,” you whispered to him.

your faces were so close together that if you took a deep breath, your lips would be pressed against his. part of you wanted to kiss him, and part of him wanted to kiss you. however, you pulled away before you could. you weren’t a cheater.

             “promise me you’ll take care of yourself?” his eyes softly gazed over your features.

he could tell that you were wasting away. despite your carefree attitude tonight, he knew that you had changed. your independent, badass attitude had diminished over time, and he only hoped that you would take care of yourself so you could return to the girl that he used to know.

you only gave him a nod before turning your eyes away from him. turning the conversation back on him, you squeezed his hand.

             “I’m really proud of you, Cols,” you smiled to him. “I can’t wait to hear your album.”

he murmured a response to you before placing another kiss on the back of your hand. with that, you had pulled yourself from his car, giving him a small wave as you entered through the glass doors of your hotel.

--

the next morning, you were on a plane heading back to New York. even though you were broken up and you were with someone else, the pain of missing Colson was still there. it was like something deep in your soul was crying out for him.

this trip was a breath of fresh air for you, and you had clarity now. deep down, you knew one thing to be true: you would rather have a little bit of Colson in your life than not have him at all. you didn’t realize how bad your situation was back in New York until you had an outside perspective. with Colson, you had people who loved you for who you were. no one tried to change you. no one tried to tell you what to do. they accepted you for the person you were, and they loved you unconditionally.

you needed those people in your life. Trevor, you realized, was not one of those people. he had done nothing but feed you lies about yourself that made you doubt your self-worth. he never treated you with respect, and every time he told you that he loved was like a punch in the face. it hurt worse than the ones with his fist.

stepping off the airplane in New York, you knew what you had to do. you had to breakup with him, and if you managed to survive, you promised yourself that you would never let yourself fall prey to a man like that ever again.

with your luggage in hand, you made your way to the pickup line, where Trevor was waiting for you. he insisted that he would pick you up, even though you told him that you could just take a cab.

             “hi,” you smiled to him after you placed you bags in the trunk.

he only gave you a nod of acknowledgement as you closed your door. the air felt thick. your smile faltered the longer you stared at him. you watched his movements carefully. he roughly turned the keys, starting the car. his knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel. his other hand picked at his lips. he did that when he was pissed, and it put you on edge.

he began to drive, only addressing you once you were stopped at a red light.

             “how was the party?”

your blood ran cold. how did he know?

             “what party?” you laughed lightly, trying to brush him off.

             “DON’T.” he slammed his hands on the top of the steering wheel before looking over at you. “DON’T FUCKING play dumb with me. I saw the pictures. did you fuck him? did you let him fuck you?”

             “NO,” you shouted back at him.

his fist slammed your head into the cool glass of the window. your head rung as tears prickled in your eyes.

             “you’re such a bitch, you know that?”

you watched the road in front of you. the light turned green. the lights around you blurred, and you let your head rest against the window. the tears ran down your face.

you said no word to Trevor when you arrived at your building. you grabbed your bag and quickly made your way into the building. Trevor quickly caught up with you, roughly placing a hand on your arm.

as you stepped off the elevator, you ripped yourself from his arm before making it to your front door. before you could unlock it, Trevor had you pinned with his hand secured tightly around your neck.

your eyes bulged as you gasped for breath. you began to kick at him, until he let you go. you stumbled into your apartment getting as far away from him as possible.

             “I want to breakup,” you rasped holding your throat.

             “why? because you love him more than you love me?” Trevor laughed throwing his keys on your counter.

             “no, you’re a monster.”

he seethed as he moved to close the gap between the two of you. he roughly snatched you by your arms pulling you close.

             “you are not leaving me,” he growled. “you’re mine.”

             “I am not yours,” you grunted out as you struggled to pull away from him.

with all of his force, Trevor tossed you to the floor. your shoulder slammed into the floor as you landed on your arm funny. pain began to splinter from your shoulder before echoing throughout your body. you moved to sit up, clutching your arm, as his boot collided with your ribs.

you gasped for air. your lungs burned. you took blow after blow, barely listening to the cruel words he shouted at you.

once he finally thought you were down, he turned his back to you. you had somehow managed to pull yourself up from the floor, swiping the bat that you kept hidden under your couch. with your weak arm, you swung at him, only landing a small blow to his back. he stumbled before taking you by your throat and shoving you into the fish tank on the small cabinet you kept in the hallway.

you heard the glass crank from the force of your body. Trevor had thrown you to the floor, and the fish tank came crashing down on top of you. you laid on the floor, covered in glass and dirty fish water. you watched Trevor’s boots as they made their way to the door. he spit in your direction before calling you a slut. the door slammed shut behind him.

your vision began to blur as you watched your beloved fish, the two angelfish that Colson and Pete had bought you, begging you to name them both after them, flop against your hardwood floor.

--

you opened your eyes, wincing at the brightness of your kitchen light. you were disoriented. you felt a buzzing in your pocket. gently moving your arm, you pulled your phone from your pocket.

Pete’s contact picture flashed across your screen, announcing an incoming call from him. you accepted the call before moving the phone to your ear.

             “hey girl,” you heard Pete’s voice flood through your phone. “whaddup?”

Pete could hear your raspy, heavy breathing coming through the phone. whatever he was planning on talking to you about was long forgotten now.

             “(y/n/n), are you okay? what’s wrong?” Pete gently asked through the phone.

his heart beat loudly in your chest as he heard your sobs.

             “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

             “(y/n), what did you do?” Pete began to scramble out of bed, looking for the spare apartment key you gave him. “where are you?”

             “I’m at my apartment. I love you, Pete.” your speech was slurring. “tell Cols. tell him too.”

Pete called your name through the phone waiting for you response, but he was met with none. he called 911 as he ran from his apartment, catching a cab to your building.

the police had made it there before he had. damn, traffic. he stood at your apartment door as he watched the paramedics set you on a stretcher. you had an oxygen mask placed over your mouth and nose, and a paramedic began to tie a tourniquet around your thigh, above the shard of glass that impaled you when the fish tank fell.

as they rolled you out, Pete followed, holding the hand on your bad arm. your eyes found his face as the paramedics took you into the elevator.

             “Pete,” you sighed, moving the oxygen mask away from you with your good arm.

             “I’m here,” he nodded to you, stroking your wet hair. “who did this?”

you barely whispered Trevor’s name before you blacked out once more.

the second time you woke up, you were laying in a hospital bed. your body burned from the pain. your head buzzed. your neck was stiff. your lungs burned as you tried to breathe. your leg throbbed, and a shooting pain erupted from your shoulder. it took you a moment to focus your eyes, but you found your parents sitting in your room with you.

Pete had called them after the doctors rushed you into surgery for your shoulder. he also called the Mulaney’s, who had become your second set of parents. they were someone for you to rely on while you lived in New York City all alone. you could call them at any hour, and John and Anna would be at your beck and call, whether it was shopping for furniture or getting dinner. Pete felt like they would want to know.

he contemplated calling Colson, but today was his album release. Pete knew that part of you would be angry at him for bothering Colson, but he also knew that Colson would be even more upset with him if he didn’t call him. So, Pete made the call, only after you were out of surgery. your parents had arrived about a half an hour after your surgery had ended, and Colson was doing everything he could to get to New York.

you were kept overnight, but they planned on releasing you the next evening, making sure that nothing ended up infected and that your pain was manageable. your parents were out cold on the couch in your room. Pete occupied the chair next to your bed. your parents lied to the hospital staff, telling them that Pete was your brother. you could tell that the nurses didn’t believe them for a second, but no one wanted to argue with them. Pete was grateful that they let him stay, even after visiting hours had ended. after the state he saw you in just a few hours before, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving you.

from your spot in your bed, you watched Pete as he attempted to dose off with his head hanging awkwardly over the back of the chair. you saw his eyes pop open as if he could feel you staring at him.

             “hey,” he whispered sitting up and stretching his neck out. “how long have you been awake?”

             “not sure,” you whispered back as you picked at the hem of the thin hospital sheets you were given.

             “what are you thinking about?” he asked leaning forward to rest his folded hands on your bed.

he could tell that you were deep in thought.

             “I’m think about a restraining order.”

Pete gave you a small laugh.

             “after the amount of evidence, the police gather from your apartment, he might even do a bit of time.”

             “I don’t really care if he does time. I just want him gone, and I want him to pay for the stuff he broke,” you told him, moving your eyes away from the frayed hem in front of you.

             “he will. (y/n/n) will get him to pay for all of it.”

he gently patted the top of your hand resting on the pillow the nurses placed it on to help your shoulder heal. taking a moment to flick through the tv, you grew frustrated before landing on an old concert playing on one of the channels.

             “have you listened to it?” you asked turning to Pete.

             “listened to what?” Pete asked glancing over at you.

             “Cols’ album.”

             “Ah, yeah,” Pete sighed sitting back in his chair. “it’s a banger.”

             “he did good?”

             “fuck yeah, Colson always does good.”

             “good,” you sighed leaning your head back on the mountain of pillows.

             “have you not listened to it yet?”

you shook your head.

             “from the flight and Trevor, I didn’t get a chance.”

             “I can play it for you,” Pete said sitting back up. “do you want me to grab some headphones or something?”

             “no,” you said stretching your fingers out to stop him. “you can just play it out loud. I don’t want to listen to it alone.”

with that, Pete opened his phone before setting it on the table by the side of your bed. he hit play on the first track, adjusting the volume so that it was loud enough to listen to without bothering your sleeping parents.

you closed your eyes, letting the music surround you. you listened to the powerful lyrics in el Diablo and Hollywood Whore, taking in the struggles he had to face after the hate that came for him.

the opening to Glass House had tears prickling your eyes. you squeezed Pete’s hand as Colson sang the part about Nipsey and him. the first set of tears had slipped from your eyes. the tears were falling freely from your eyes when Colson sang about Peep, Mac, and Chester. you could feel his pain through the words he spoke. in this piece, he was completely vulnerable, open, sharing the darkness in his life and the loneliness he felt.

             “I didn't sign up to be the hero but I don't want to wind up a villain. I put my daughter to bed then attempted to kill myself in the kitchen. Yeah, I should've screamed, but nobody listened. So I passed out with the blood dripping. In this glass house, feeling like a prison.”

your breath hitched in your throat. Pete squeezed your hand before pressing his forehead to your head. you let out a few quiet sobs. the emotions from the day were crashing down on you. you were exhausted. you were fucking terrified, and you wanted nothing more than to call Colson. you wanted to hear his voice. you wanted to know that he was okay, even though you had seen him just the night before.

             “I think we should stop,” Pete whispered gently to you as you broke down.

             “no,” you told him. your voice thick with tears. “I want to keep listening.”

             “okay, okay,” he whispered, stroking your hair.

the two of you listened to Burning Memories, your heart clenched at the words he sang about his mother. A Message from the Count caught you by surprise, and you and Pete laughed gently at him and Colson messing around. the break from the heavy stuff was much needed, and your spirits were slightly better. you nodded along to Floor 13. you felt like the song was an appropriate response to the hate he received after Killshot, and you were proud of him for it. a small smile appeared on your face as you heard Casie’s outro for the song.

somewhere in the middle of the Truck Norris interlude, your parents had woken up. they gave you and Pete weird looks as they saw the position the two of you were in. Pete was awkwardly hunched over, resting his head against yours as the two of you bobbed along to Hotel Diablo.

Death in My Pocket had you in tears again. the rawness of the lyrics made your heart clench. you could feel his sadness through the lyrics about his aunt, father, and his relationship with his father. it reminded you of the conversation the two of you had the other night by the pool.

Candy was a bop to say the least, and you knew that that was going to be a fun song to perform. part of you couldn’t wait to see Colson perform on tour, but you knew that you should probably keep your distance from him for now.

Waste Love was another one that surprised you. the lyrics echoed your breakup from almost a year ago. you moved your head away from Pete, looking at him from your peripheral. your reaction had Pete lightly laughing.

             “I knew it,” he nodded at you.

             “shut up,” you whispered back at him.

your mom shot her head up at the two of you quietly bickering.

             “what?” she asked, causing the two of you to snap your heads in her direction.

             “NOTHING.”

--

Sunday afternoon, you sat on the edge of your hospital bed. the nurses helped you and your mom as your mom tried to help you get dressed. now, you sat with your hair pulled back loosely in a scrunchie, wearing a very large pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt that Pete had snagged from his apartment earlier that morning. your arm rested in a sling since you ended up dislocating your shoulder. your thigh was wrapped up, but you could still manage to limp on it. those were your two major injuries. other than that, you only had a few cuts and bruises.

the police had arrested Trevor last night, and as far as you knew, he was still locked up. you were relieved that you didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

now, you were waiting to be discharged so that you could go back to your apartment.

             “ready to go?” your dad asked extending a hand to help you into the wheelchair.

you nodded to him, and with that, a nurse wheeled you to the exit with Pete and your parents following behind. your dad ran to get the rental car that your parents had picked up that morning. they didn’t really want to take a cab back to your apartment.

when you got back to your building, you closed your eyes as your rode up the elevator. you had been silent the whole ride home, listening to your parents and Pete’s conversation. Pete and your dad held you under your arms to support you, so you didn’t have to put all of your weight on your bad leg. they helped you hobble to your door as your mom unlocked it.

inside you could hear the hum of one of your records playing on your record player. your mom set the keys in the bowl by the door as you unlatched yourself from your dad and Pete.

on the kitchen counter, you saw a bouquet of yellow roses sitting amongst a bunch of shattered glass. on the floor, you saw the water stain from your fish tank mixed with your blood stain. your eyes flicker with tears.

             “shit, I’m sorry,” you heard a voice from the sink in your kitchen. “I meant to cover that up before you got back. I talked to your landlord. he’s got a guy to fix that.”

standing in front of you was one of the only people you wanted to see. your 6-foot-4 blond giant friend. he had gloves covering his hands, and a bucket was filling in your sink.

hobbling forward, you pressed your head into his chest as you balled your good fist into the fabric of his black t-shirt. you could hear Colson take the gloves off before he wrapped his arms around you. you sobbed into his chest as he lightly stroked your back.

Colson gave Pete and your parents a look. they gave him a small smile, and your mom mumbled something about finishing cleaning up. around you, your dad took the bucket from the sink before moving it to clean your blood from the floor. your mom vacuumed your couch cushions to make sure there was no glass left behind. Pete pulled out a bottle of febreze to mask the scent of your dead fish.

you pulled yourself from Colson to laugh lightly at Pete. Colson gently wiped the tears from your face.

             “where are my fish?” you ask him softly.

             “they were too big to flush down the toilet, so I have them sealed in a zip lock bag for now,” he said gently. “figured you might want to do the honors.”

             “thank you,” you murmured to him before hugging him once more. “your album is really fucking good.”

you could feel him lightly laugh as he wrapped his arms around you again.

             “glad you liked it,” he murmured into your hair. his hands traveled up your back to cup your cheeks. “why are you crying?”

             “I don’t know,” you laugh using your good hand to wipe away your tears. “thank you for being here.”

             “always,” he smiled at you. “come on, I cleaned up your room. let’s get you off your leg.”

Colson helped you hobble to your room, helping you take your sling off before you laid down. he situated you on your pillows, propping your shoulder up and apologizing as you winced. he set your laptop up for you, giving you your headphones. he sat with you while you weakly scrolled through Netflix before finding the movie you wanted. The Dirt.

             “you suck,” Colson smiled at you, causing you to laugh.

             “I haven’t seen it yet. cut me a break.”

             “alright, alright.”

he pulled himself up from your bed, placing your favorite blanket over you. as he moved to leave your room, you reached your good arm out to grab his hand. with your hand wrapped around his fingers, he turned back to you.

             “did you write that song about me?” you ask him softly. your voice was so quiet that he almost missed what you said.

Colson gave you a small smile before raising your hand to his lip, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

             “of course, it’s about you.”

             “did you mean it?” you stared into his bright blue eyes, searching for an answer. “did you mean what you said?”

             “(y/n), I will always mean it, and I know now is not the time to tell you this,” he paused to sigh. “I never stopped loving you, and I will probably always love you. and, I know I fucked up. I fucked up our relationship. I wasn’t around, and I was always wasted. and, I am so sorry for that. you deserved better than that, and I’m getting better. and, when you’re ready, I want to talk about us because I don’t want to live without you anymore. this year sucked without you by my side, and I don’t want that anymore. I want you in my life, and I don’t care how long it takes for you to get there. I will always be here, waiting for you.”

you had tears streaming down your cheeks. he sat back on the bed to wipe away your tears.

             “you kinda suck,” you laugh as you used your good hand to wipe your eyes.

             “I’m sorry,” he sighed avoiding your gaze.

             “I missed you too, Col,” you said reaching up to trace his cheek. “it’s gonna take me sometime to get there because I want to get over this mess before I jump into something else, but I feel the same way. I don’t want to live without you in my life anymore.”

Colson smiled at you before moving to kiss you on your forehead. a knock on your door pulled you out of your little moment. Pete stood in your doorway with his jacket on.

             “hey, Colson,” Pete began, causing Colson to turn toward his buddy. “we gotta go now if we are going to make the store.”

             “okay, I’ll be there in a second,” he nodded to Pete as he got up from your bed once more.

             “where are you going?” you asked him still holding his hand.

             “we’re going to go get you a new tank. tomorrow, we’ll go get some new fish for you,” Colson said.

             “but, you can’t just buy a tank-”

             “I know,” he smiled back at you. “your dad made Pete and I a list. enjoy your movie.” he winked at you, closing the door lightly behind him.

--

the next morning, you stood in Randy’s Pet Shop with Colson and Pete, staring up at the multiple tanks of fish in front of you. like little kids in the candy store, the two of them made sure to pick out the craziest looking fish for your tank, begging you to let them name them. you of course agree, and the three of you left the store with Kevin and Barracuda, your new gold and blue gourami fish.  

you knew that it was going to be a while until you were going to be okay again, but at least you had the guys in your corner. no matter how far you strayed from them, they were always there for you, and you were forever grateful for that.

life could only go up from here.

.

.

.

i know this was a bit darker than usual. feel free to send requests - rose xx

[talkfastromance4]

stuck with u-- calum hood oneshot

a/n: hii! so this came outta left field but I went with it. based off of ariana grande’s song with justin bieber. very loosely edited, but yeah, I hope you like it :)

word count: 4,111

warnings: mentions of quarantine, a break up, sweet moments, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, spitting, unprotected sex, funny sexual moments

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcome and enjoy! :)

• • • •

She came over to return his box of things, giving herself a pep talk before she did. It’s a few days before their new album releases and two weeks before touring begins. They always had an expiration date, this she knew, but she hadn’t put into consideration how badly it would sting.

Like any normal couple, they had their ups and downs with minor arguments here and there, but their stubbornness was the same. Neither one of them wanting to give in first left them each brooding in their separate corners until the bell struck for another round of heated words then they’d stalk off to their respective corners again.

It was a cycle that kept cycling until her eyes filled with tears or the steam finally sizzled out from them both. In exchange of heated words were the remaining apologies, words of kindness, and a conclusion to whatever their fight had been about.

She’s at a stoplight, Halsey’s magical voice surrounds her in her car, and she glances to the box in the passenger seat. A small notebook lays on top that holds small poems or songs he wrote for her, about her. It was given to her on her birthday, but she couldn’t keep it now, not when their time is up. Next to the notebook is his green Empathy hoodie she stole awhile ago and on top of that is a small stuffed bear he won at a fair.

A car horn pulls her from her reverie, and she continues the familiar roads to his house. After dropping off his things and getting hers back from him, she was heading back home to spend time with her family so the back part of her car was full of duffel bags and her pillows.

She stares at his house, suddenly it seems so daunting as memories swim in her head. Countless nights of wandering through the front door after a night out or at Michael and Crystal’s for a small party. Mornings of coffee and breakfast created by him filled with whipped cream and syrupy kisses. Her eyes sting with tears and she shakes her head quickly. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry another tear over him.

She checks her phone to see a comforting message from Crystal of good luck and a safe drive home with many heart emojis.

“You can do this; you can do this. In and out and he’s behind you,” she mutters to herself then grabs his box of belongings.

Before she can ring the doorbell, he opens it and Duke is barking at his feet, jumping up on the glass trying to get to her, his fluffy tail wagging joyously at her return. Her heart falls, she’s going to miss Duke a lot. Calum opens the door.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice gruff and scratchy. She hopes he’s not starting to get sick; he needs to rest—

She stops herself short, it’s not her concern anymore.

“Hi,” she says quietly and enters the house. Her shoulder brushes his chest, they both tense and his aftershave invades her nose. The smell of him and him alone brings back more memories of cuddling by the fire, snuggling on the couch, walking up behind him while he’s making dinner and burying her face between his shoulder blades.

Duke continues to vie for her attention as she moves into the kitchen. The news is on with the volume down low, numbers and the word ‘China lockdown’ traveling across the bottom of the screen. She sets the box down on the counter with a thump then squats to her knees to give Duke a proper hello and goodbye.

“I’ll um, go get your stuff. Help yourself to something to drink.”

“I’m gonna miss your cuddles, Dukey,” she whispers to the old dog and kisses his nose. He licks her chin in return.

She stands and waits, not even bothering to get a drink because she doesn’t plan to stay long. Why does he want to prolong their goodbye? She leans against the counter waiting for Calum’s return and she realizes she’s in the same spot from months ago where she tried to prepare him dinner for once.

He was being exceptionally affectionate, lifting her arm so he could press his lips to her wrist then slowly down to her elbow—

“I think I have everything,” his voice startles her from the good memory. “I made sure you didn’t leave any of your books behind.”

“Thanks,” she gives him a grim smile taking the box from his hands. Their fingers brush, his heat always made her forever cold fingers warm. A shock ran through her fingertips.

The pair stare into their boxes respectively, shuffling through memories of their relationship.

“This isn’t mine,” Calum holds up the small notebook of songs and poems. “I gave this to you as a gift, Y/N.”

She stares at the book of words in his hand, words of love and light reserved for her only.

“I can’t keep it, Cal,” she whispers, eyes pooling with tears. She tries to blink them away and on instinct Calum moves forward. She backs up into the corner of the counter. “No, don’t. Please.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s hard enough, Cal, all right? I know our time was limited,” she crosses her arms over her chest, “but I’m still hurting and I’m probably going to hurt for a while longer.”

“You think I’m not hurting, too? This was—is the hardest breakup. I’m hurting, Y/N, I am.”

She risks a glance up at him to see the wounded look in his eyes. Calum shifts forward, his hands cradling her face gently in his palms, his forehead pressed to hers. She dares not to move, because once she touches him then it’s all over. There’s no way she could recover from that.

“Look at me,” his lips kiss her forehead, another stab at her heart. She shakes her head. “Baby—”

The news anchor’s voice interrupts their moment declaring the state of California has issued a lockdown effective immediately. No one is to leave their homes for any reason, no going to other houses, no contact with anyone. The world shut down and now they’re stuck together.

**

It’s awkward at first, moving her things from her car into his house. She decided to stay in the guest bedroom, no matter how badly she wanted to crawl into his bed and never leave. He was on the phone with the guys and management discussing what this means for their album release and tour well late into the night while she contacted her family.

She could do two weeks with her ex, nothing tricky about that, right?

She was wrong. The first week was rough, they bounced around each other like meteorites trying not to collide. When he’d walk around the house shirtless she had to force herself not to stare. More memories and the ache to run her fingers over his tattoos was too strong. They ate in separate rooms and tried to remain separate as much as possible.

She watched the live he did with the band for their album release, listening along with them and crying at songs she knew Calum wrote. Small nods to their relationship tugged at her heart.

The second week things were looking up because she would be leaving soon. The smell of him would linger on all of her clothes a lot longer now, but she needed to get out. She needed to get over him and that’s hard to do when you’re stuck under the same roof.

Plans had changed yet again, and she’d be with him a lot longer. Tour has been cancelled and in the process of being rescheduled as much as it can be. Calum has been stressed; she feels it radiating off him one morning while he’s sat at the kitchen table. His coffee cup is still full, his shoulders hunched to his neck from stress.

Without thinking, she moves behind him and rubs at his shoulders. He jumps at her touch but then relaxes into her touch, letting her remove the stress that she can from his muscles.

“D’you want to talk about it?” she asks softly.

“Not really,” he shakes his head then sighs. “There is something I’d like to talk about though…”

“Yeah?” her thumbs rub up his neck into his hairline, his blond hairline that he re-dyed for the wildflower music video that never got filmed.

“Can we talk about us?” he asks. Her hands still their motions in his hair.

“What about us?”

He spins around, her hands falling from his warm skin. He takes her hand in his, fingers linked together like so many times before, his brown eyes captivating her. He swallows harshly.

“We’ve got all this time on our hands, might as well cancel all our plans we had and spend it together,” he says.

“Even if it’s just you and me?” she strokes his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he shakes his head. “I thought it was hard before but it’s even harder now with you here. I don’t want to let you go.”

“So…what does this mean exactly?”

“It’s just you and me,” he rises to his feet taking her other hand in his. “It means whatever we want it to.”

“Let’s have a date night, a new start,” she offers.

“That sounds good,” he smiles.

At around six o’clock, they meet in the kitchen wearing comfy clothes. Something they both agreed on to make the night even easier and more comfortable. She had on one of his shirts with shorts and socks that went up to her knees. He had on basketball shorts and a blue t-shirt; he remembers how she likes him in blue.

They were making dinner together, homemade pasta with sauce to match. A bottle of wine was opened, and their glasses were filled with the sweet nectar.

“Remember when we got poured out at the festival with Mike and Crys?” she laughs while stirring the sauce.

“We were so muddy,” he joins in her laughter. “Your hair was sopping but you looked adorable all muddy.”

“You wouldn’t join me in the puddle,” she nudges him.

“Because I didn’t want to get sick and guess who was in bed for four days with a cold?”

“Yeah but you took care of me,” she grins.

Calum takes her hand that doesn’t have the spoon in her hand and lifts it to his lips. With his eyes trained on hers, he kisses her fingers, kisses the center of her palm, then her wrist.

“I’d do it again, you know,” he murmurs on her skin. Goosebumps rise on her neck and all the way down her body. “Take care of you.”

Their eyes lock and the mood changes, the sauce bubbles as they lean in closer, closer, and closer still until—

The timer on the oven buzzes signifying it’s ready for the garlic bread. Calum sighs, gives her wrist one more kiss then returns to his task at hand. She’s left flustered and warm while she stirs the sauce then adds the noodles into the boiling water.

During dinner they had another glass of wine and joked about more memories together, dreams they wanted to do with one another. Unlike the first week she was there, their chairs were pushed as close as they could be at the table. Their plates were empty, and his arm was on the back of her chair.

“We should just rent a small camper and travel along the coast,” he says rubbing her neck with his thumb.

“Maybe we can afterwards,” she chuckles wiping off pasta sauce from his cheek. “When we can leave the house again.”

“Good point. So, since this is a first date, now it’s time to dance.”

She quirks an eyebrow up. “Dance? I’m in a t-shirt and knee-high socks.”

“Perfect dancing outfit come on. Up you get, little lady,” he tickles her neck as he rises from his chair. She giggles at his touch then is pulled from her own chair by his hand.

“There isn’t any music,” she laughs falling into his chest.

“Oh shit, hang on. Hey Alexa, play the Y/N playlist,” he says.

“Playing Y/N playlist on Spotify,” Alexa responds, and Ariana’s voice fills the house.

“You have a playlist for me?”

“Of course,” he grins then dips her down. She squeals from the sudden rush to her head as she’s tipped backwards, but Calum would never let her fall.

He pulls her back up, both of them giggling as they dance in the kitchen. Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, it’s getting longer and shaggier by the day. His curls are coming back, and she’s been itching to play with the soft twists.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers. Their eyes meet just as Justin Bieber’s voice croons in the speakers.

“My plan when you came over was to try and get back together, you know. Even before all of this happened, I was going to ask if you’d wait for me to come back from tour. I wasn’t going to let my stubbornness push away the best person that’s happened to me.”

“Cal…”

She cups his cheek the same time he leans down and presses his lips to hers. An electric surge courses through them as their kiss deepens. He grips her waist then lowers his hands to her ass giving her a hefty squeeze. She gasps at the contact and he slips his tongue in her mouth. Calum spins her around, lifting her up so she’s seated on the counter.

Her legs wrap around his waist, accordingly, pulling him as close to her as possible. The song changes to Lover of Mine just as his hands creep under her shirt. His fingers skim her skin, thumbs brushing over her soft nipples that turn hard upon his touch. He groans, giving her breasts a firm squeeze before lifting the shirt from her body.

Their eyes lock, lips red from their kiss. She traces his lower lip and he’s quick to duck his head down to suck on her neck. She gasps when his hand cups her sex, his thumb rubbing her core through the fabric while his mouth descends to her breasts. She bites her lip, but a small moan escapes her as he sucks on her nipple, his thumb moving in tantric circles.

“Calum…Cal…please…” she begs in a whisper, her fingers tightening in his hair.

Getting her message loud and clear, he lifts her in his arms, lips assaulting hers as he makes his way to his bedroom. He kicks the door shut so Duke doesn’t interrupt then drops her to the bed. She giggles and he laughs along with her yanking his shirt off. She removes her shorts and panties the same time he drops his shorts to the floor.

She’s quick to grasp him in her palm, stroking towards herself, looking up at him. He touches her cheek affectionately; it’s been so long since they’ve had each other this way.

“Love the way you look at me like that,” he mumbles, his thumb rubbing under her eye.

A smile flickers on her lips before she suctions them around his tip. Calum’s eyes close sequentially but he forces them open so he can watch her, another love of his. Her tongue swirls and rolls the only way she knows how to do before taking him further in her mouth.

Calum groans at the warmth of her mouth, he brings his other hand to her cheek, watching her eyes close as she concentrates. Flashes of her like this flood his mind, from their first time, to the time they snuck away at Ashton’s house because he was wearing that suit she loved him in so much she had to have him right then.

When he reaches the back of her throat, he snaps back to the present and moans from the sensation. She takes him that deep again and he holds her face tighter.

“Up, up, up, up,” he orders pulling her off him. As much as he loved getting head from her, he loves returning the favor more. “Lie back, baby, legs up.”

She licks her lips, swiping her thumb over leftover spit which is insanely hot and pushes herself to the center of the bed. He follows her hungrily, pushing her ankles up and to the side so she’s open and pliant for him, only for him.

He keeps his eyes on her as he kisses her thighs, nibbling his teeth every now and then with his thumbs rubbing her ankles softly. She situates the pillows behind her head so she can have a better angle to watch him. She loves to watch as much as he does.

“Ready?” he asks, and she giggles, nodding quickly.

He flashes her a wink before closing his mouth on her clit. She moans on contact while he sucks then transitions to flicking his tongue at the nub, teasing the tip of his tongue in her hole sporadically. He loves pleasuring her with his mouth, he can feel her moans on his tongue as she drips for him. Her hands fly to his hair guiding his mouth to where she needs, and Calum lets her use him.

He pulls away a fraction so he can gather his saliva then spits it on her core, watching it dribble to her entrance before he slurps it back up with her arousal. Her moans are sinful at the action, her hips moving with his motions, moans getting louder and louder until she gasps out his name in one breath. Her legs go rigid in his hold as her orgasm crashes into her.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he grunts, swiping his tongue up and down, up and down until her body relaxes. He looks up already meeting her gaze, chest heaving from the bliss. “Ready for me?”

“Always,” she nods.

They move quickly, situating themselves in the right way. He holds her ankles until he’s hovering above her, then lets go so he can grab hold of his shaft then slaps it against her pussy in a teasing manner. She moans at the contact, her legs falling open wider. Calum rubs her temple with his thumb nearest her head as he nudges himself between her folds.

Her mouth opens like it always does when he inserts himself the first time, he slips right in and they moan together at being connected once more. He rests his other hand on his bed, and she lets out a squeak.

“Ouch! On my hair, move, move, move!”

He lifts his hand spewing out ‘sorry, sorry!’ quickly as she readjusts herself. They’re giggling and he bends down to kiss her, she wraps her arms around his neck. She shifts her hips slightly underneath him in a rocking motion, but he wants more of her lips.

“If I’m going to do all the work, I should have been on top,” she teases jutting her hips up once more.

“Yeah? You want to be sassy right now?” he hums pressing himself into her more, she lets out a choked moan.

“You going to fuck me right now?” she hums in the same tone, smirking against him.

Calum growls then pulls himself out of her only to plunge with force right back in. She screams out his name as he starts a rapid rhythm, hips snapping against hers, the bed shifting with his movements. Her head tilts back as her back arches so she can take him even deeper.

Calum sucks onto her breast, fucking into her swiftly, her wetness has him moving faster and faster until—

“FUCK!” he groans when he slips out of her entirely and thrusts into her thigh. She’s laughing above him, and he curses lowly to himself again. He glances up to see her giggling behind her hand. “Think it’s funny, huh?”

“Am I that wet?” she laughs poking his nose. “That’s your fault you know.”

“I take that as a win, baby,” he sighs teasing her hole once more with his cock. He grins up at her. “No one makes you as wet as I do.”

“Hmm, you’re not wrong,” she smiles then wiggles beneath him.

“You want more?” he teases pressing his tip in slowly, she bites her lip.

“Please,” she whines.

“You have to keep your legs still, so I don’t slip out again,” he breathes then pushes in once more.

He finds his rhythm from before, her body arching the way he loves but he feels her legs shift. He growls then pushes them up to her chest, he plants his knees to the mattress, her ass cheeks resting on his thighs.

“What’d I say?” he pants, and her eyes roll at his tone and the angle he has her body in. he jack hammers into her, his balls slapping her thighs.

She squeezes the pillows next to her head until her knuckles are white, her cries of pleasure are music to his ears as he feels her clench around him. Sweat builds on his brow and his chest and he’s damned to have her orgasm as many times as he can. Her eyes close as her second orgasm hits, she’s pulsing around him in such a good way it makes him ache.

When it’s over, he releases her legs so he can pound into her with his waist. He holds her to his body, face buried in her neck so he can leave marks on her skin. She’s coming once more, chanting his name in his ear and he groans at the sound. She kisses his ear, teeth grazing his lobe as a new orgasm rolls into the next.

Feeling his own release approaching, he shifts again. This time he moves backwards pulling her with him so they’re in a sitting position. He wraps her legs around his waist, her body is heavy against his from the tumultuous pleasure he’s giving her. Calum’s arms snake around her back, it’s sticky with her own sweat and he licks into her mouth the same time he starts thrusting again. Her ankles lock behind his back, she hides her face in his neck at the new angle.

“Look at me, baby, please,” he begs tugging at the hair by her neck. He holds her in place, their eyes meeting, her mouth falling open with their thrusts.

His movements slow to a more tenacious speed, still full of passion but with a layer of love and adoration. Calum moves his hand from her waist so he can anchor himself to the bed, thrusting his hips quicker. She helps as much as she can, her body is nearly spent but she wants to feel him cum inside her, hear his moans and see the bliss in his eyes.

“Come for me, Cal,” she pants, “come for me, baby…”

His hips jerk and he releases his orgasm inside her, his hips move lethargically, milking his climax for as long as he can but their eyes stay locked. When he’s finished, they both let out a long sigh, knocking their foreheads together. Their breath is hot on each other’s faces, sweat beads roll onto each other’s skin, a mixture of him and her.

They stay in the position, legs crisscrossed, arms wrapped around one another, heartbeats slowing from a rapid pace to syncing together. After a few more moments, they disentangle, and Calum has to help her walk to the bathroom. She can already feel the soreness in her lips, but she’s missed the pleasured ache.

They brush their teeth, she uses the toilet, then crawl into bed together. She’s already passed out as soon as her head hits the pillow and Calum draws designs along her back until he falls asleep as well.

The next morning, they wake later than intended but give light kisses in the morning sun.

“I love you, you know,” he tells her caressing her face. His eyes litter over the small marks on her neck and breasts he gave her.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you all right being stuck with me?” he grins pulling her leg over his hip.

“Lock the door and throw out the key,” she grins capturing his lips between hers.

“It’s just you and me.” He moves to roll on top of her, but she pushes on his chest lightly so she’s on top.

“I’m stuck with you,” she whispers, kissing him as she grinds herself on top of him.

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