hey everyone, welcome! my name is kierra, i'm 23. i love music and writing. i write fics for black girl readers and tv show ships or mainly about whatever I’m feeling passionate about right then.
{about this blog.}
Greys Anatomy
Shameless
Criminal Minds
The O.C
One Tree Hill
Pretty Little Liars
I live in Pittsburgh and I just learned about who this is because I’ve been working as an extra on a movie that’s has been filming in my city and he’s apparently in it. It’s a great opportunity and I’ve actually seen him a couple times on the set
heyyy!!! really odd request but this is very personal to me. could you write a hurt/comfort fic about a fem reader who struggles with dermatillomania and skin picking who tries to hide it from spencer, and when he finds out he tries his best to comfort reader and give her help on being more confident? much much love, anon <3
Here you go! :)
————-
Still Beautiful- Request
spencer reid x fem!reader hiding your dermatillomania feels safer than being seen — until spencer sees it all and stays anyway • hurt/comfort • soft reassurance • healing isn’t linear
——————
It always starts the same way.
A scab. A bump. A tiny uneven patch of skin. That’s all it takes—just one microscopic imperfection to pull your attention like a thread unraveling.
You try not to do it. You always try.
But then your fingers start moving. Picking, scratching, smoothing and pressing and scratching again. It becomes mechanical. Mindless. Like your body’s moving on autopilot and your brain has checked out entirely.
You don’t even realize how much time passes until you feel the sting.
That’s how it was tonight.
Spencer had gone to shower. You were lying on the bed, pretending to read, but really you were just focused on the growing ache in your thighs. Your skin was hot beneath the soft fabric of your sweats. Irritated. Raw in places you swore you wouldn’t touch again.
And when you hear the bathroom door creak open, you yank the blanket over yourself so fast it makes your heart spike.
“Hey,” Spencer says, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and messy in that endearing way that always makes your chest twist a little. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You don’t meet his eyes. “Just tired.”
Your voice is flat. Tight.
You feel it in your throat—that familiar guilt and embarrassment creeping in like a rising tide. You already know he can tell something’s off. He always can.
Spencer stands there for a second, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to push. Then, quietly, he crosses the room and climbs into bed behind you. The mattress dips. You feel the warmth of him settle in beside you, but there’s still a few inches of space between your bodies.
“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly.
“I said I’m tired, Spence.” It comes out sharper than you intended.
There’s a pause. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I know,” he says. “I just… I worry when you shut down like this.”
You exhale. “Can we not do this right now?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, he slides closer, just enough to wrap his arm around your waist from behind. His hand rests warm and still against your stomach.
You don’t stop him.
But your hands are clenched under the blanket, nails digging into your palms, like if you just focus hard enough, maybe you’ll disappear completely.
⸻
The next morning, you wake before he does.
You slip out of bed carefully, tugging the sweatshirt you’d slept in lower over your thighs. You pad into the kitchen and start the coffee—mostly for him, because you barely have the appetite for anything lately. Your skin still feels sore. You haven’t looked at it yet.
You don’t want to.
You hear Spencer before you see him. His footsteps are soft, like always, but you can tell from the drag in his pace that he didn’t sleep well.
When he walks in, his curls are still a little messy, and his eyes are puffy with sleep. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice raspy.
“Morning,” you say, keeping your back to him. You focus on pouring the coffee like it’s the most important task in the world.
He walks up behind you. His hands slide around your waist again, just like last night, except now he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, but your throat is thick. “I’m fine.”
“Y/N…” His voice drops even lower. “You’ve said that every day this week.”
You stiffen.
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he says quickly. “I just… I can tell something’s wrong. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”
His words hit you square in the chest.
“I’m not hiding,” you lie.
He doesn’t call you out. But he doesn’t believe you either.
You turn in his arms slowly, and he looks down at you with such gentleness it almost makes you cry.
“Spence, please don’t make me talk about this right now.”
You’re trying to hold it together, but your voice cracks a little on the last word.
Spencer cups your face carefully, like he’s holding something fragile. His thumbs brush your cheeks, and for a moment you think he’s going to push again—but he just kisses your forehead and says, “Okay. Not right now.”
You nod.
But the guilt in your chest feels like it’s cracking your ribs.
⸻
It happens that night.
You’re curled up on the couch under a blanket, scrolling through your phone without really seeing anything. Spencer’s beside you, legs stretched out, one hand absently resting on your ankle.
You think maybe you’ve gotten away with it. That he’s stopped looking so closely.
But then he shifts. And his hand brushes your thigh, accidentally tugging the blanket just a little too far.
You flinch.
He pauses.
You try to cover it again quickly, but he gently stops you. His fingers hover over the edge of the blanket.
“Can I see?”
You freeze.
“I—I don’t think you want to,” you mumble.
Spencer’s voice is impossibly soft. “Y/N. Please.”
You hesitate. Then, heart pounding, you nod once.
He peels the blanket back slowly. Your breath catches. Your thighs are red and spotted—some scabs fresh, others healing. The skin is irritated, uneven, angry in places where you’d tried to smooth and soothe but couldn’t stop yourself from going back again.
You wait for him to pull away. For disgust to flash across his face.
But it never comes.
Instead, he frowns in this quiet, heartbroken way—like he’s hurting because you’re hurting.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
Your chest tightens. You can’t look at him.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
His hand rests over yours, warm and careful.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m not… normal, Spence. I—I try to stop. I really try. But it’s like something takes over and—God, I hate myself for it. I hate how I look. I feel disgusting.”
“Hey,” he says, and his voice is firmer now, full of emotion. “Don’t say that.”
“But I do!” you cry. “I try so hard to be okay, and then I ruin my own skin. I ruin my body and then I try to hide it from you like that makes it better.”
Spencer slides closer, one hand moving to your cheek to gently wipe away your tears.
“You’re not ruining anything,” he says, voice shaking a little. “You’re not disgusting. You’re someone who’s in pain. You’re coping. And I know it doesn’t always make sense—even to you—but that doesn’t make you broken.”
Your lip trembles.
“You really think that?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
He nods. “I know that.”
You rest your forehead against his. He lets you breathe there for a moment, quiet and trembling and open in a way you rarely let yourself be.
After a while, he asks, “Can I help?”
You blink, confused. “Help?”
He smiles gently. “I’ve done some reading. Dermatillomania. It’s real. It’s not a bad habit, Y/N—it’s a disorder. You’re not alone. And you’re not crazy. And there are things we can try together.”
You bite your lip. “Like what?”
“Well,” he says, thoughtful, “there are grounding techniques. Fidget tools. Things to keep your hands busy. Some people use hydrocolloid patches to help healing. We could get some. Or we could talk to someone—when you’re ready.”
Your eyes fill again. “You’d do that with me?”
“Of course,” he says, like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I love you. That means I’m here. Not just when it’s easy. Especially when it’s not.”
You don’t know how to reply to that.
So you just crawl into his lap, trembling, and let him hold you like the world isn’t falling apart inside your chest.
⸻
That night, when you’re changing for bed, Spencer doesn’t let you turn off the lights.
“Leave them on,” he says softly, standing behind you. “If that’s okay.”
You hesitate. Then you nod.
You feel exposed. Vulnerable.
But then he steps closer, and his hands slide gently under your shirt—not sexual, not urgent. Just reverent.
He presses kisses to your shoulder blades. Your upper arms. The curve of your waist. He kisses each mark he sees. Each scar. Each wound in progress.
When he gets to your thighs, he kneels.
“Still beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.
You cry.
But this time, it’s not out of shame.
It’s the first time in a long time you believe him.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
Prompt: YN has to borrow Harry’s car, she gets in an accident, and panics.
word count: 14k
warnings: car accident, angst, Harry is not a nice person to anyone but his wife and babies in this trope universe
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-
It didn’t make sense how insecure YN was.
Not at all.
Six months into their relationship and everything was great, scratch that, perfect.
YN couldn’t ask for a better significant other, Harry was quite literally the whole package - understanding, supportive, empathic, and loving in a way he wasn’t with anyone else.
She didn’t think that all this could be true, Harry had done absolutely nothing to show that he was putting on an act or appearance but YN had a hard time believing that someone like Harry would want someone like her.
Though Harry was constantly praising how intelligent, kind, beautiful she was - she never felt in his league, not compared to him, and it wasn’t just about the money.
But it had something to do with it.
On top of being one of the richest people in the world, he was heartbreakingly handsome and fit - his cut jaw, even if his face was almost always scowling he looked like he just walked off the cover of Vogue, and not to mention his body.
His biceps, his stomach, he had defined muscles that YN had even known exists like up under his armpits near his rib cage, ripples of toned muscle that came from dedication in the gym.
More importantly than that - he was terrifying brilliant, the fact that he created a multibillion dollar company out of his mum’s living room in mere years and now had the life he did now, that was from being intelligent to the point of genius.
YN just felt like she came to the table with little to nothing to offer in comparison.
She was still in college, massively in debt, working at a run down bar, and living in the cheapest accommodations she could find in London.
She would never call herself unattractive but when she got the inkling urge to google Harry and his past flings - well…it shot her confidence in the gutter because he was seen with gorgeous women who modeled and walked runway shows, a different kind of beauty that she couldn’t compare to.
None of this was fair to Harry because he made her feel like the most beautiful, intelligent person on this earth and she knew he was sincere but she couldn’t help but think that after their honeymoon phase…well he would realize that she wasn’t all that special, not compared to the other options.
When they were out, there were constantly women coming up to him, not shy about flirting and making suggestive comments while she was standing right next to him.
It didn’t matter if he bluntly told them to ‘fuck off’, it was always a hit to her already low self-confidence.
She likes to think that she hides it pretty well from Harry, he always got upset when she put herself down with negative thoughts and comments so she tried to bottle that up.
Harry and her had gotten in small arguements in the past six months but it was nothing ever than being a bit peeved with each other, he had a incredible amount of patience and understanding when it came to her, not to often actually getting irritated.
However, she wasn’t stupid, she saw how he could be to his employees, she say how he talked to random people on the street, to the girls hitting on him, sometimes to his own sister.
He wasn’t any of the characteristics that YN explained him as but the exact opposite - rude, impatient, unsympathetic, and easy to anger.
When she talks about the other shoe dropping, she can’t help but wonder if she’ll face the same wrath that others have - she didn’t know if she could handle the cold, uncaring, angry Harry that others got and how she would deal with it.
It just felt unrealistic that he could magically turn it off with her but not the other people in his life but he hadn’t once shown that side of himself to her, not even when he’s been cross with her attitude.
His temper scared her a bit, she thinks back to the first time she really saw it, and it still sticks in her mind.
-
1 & ½ into the relationship
It was a business dinner, one where a whole restaurant had been rented out to celebrate multiple new branches of Style Marketing & Co opening worldwide, expanding to four new countries.
YN had accepted the invitation because she knew Harry wanted her there, that as his partner, she would have to attend these business dinners and events to support him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, per se, it was more that she didn’t feel like she fit in - as a broke college student, she didn’t have extra money for dresses and shoes to wear to these things.
People weren’t wearing dresses from cheap online fast fashion websites, they were wearing designer brands like Gucci and Prada to somewhat casual dinners.
The suits Harry was showing up in, most of them had a Gucci label on the sleeve or the inside of the suit jacket, she couldn’t imagine how much they cost as she tried to pick from two dresses she got for thirty pounds each.
YN would make do with what she had because she sure as hell wasn’t going to mention this to Harry, she knows that he would automatically either take her to shop or try to hand her his credit card to buy herself whatever she wanted, and she hated accepting any help - no matter if the intention was good or not.
To mention it, that’s probaly what they fought over the most is YN’s stubbornness when it comes to accepting help or gifts - nothing frustrated Harry more than when he tries to be a good, supportive partner and she won’t let him.
It didn’t matter that Harry was worth billions, it was more about the principle.
She had never accepted help before and she never wanted Harry to think that she was using him for his money even though he assured her a million times he’s never thought that.
YN had shown up to the event in the nicer of the two dresses, it didn’t scream expensive but it was nice enough that it could pass for not being fast fashion - a simple black satin dress.
She had been worried that Harry wouldn’t like it or be embarassed that was what she chose to wear but when he knocked on her apartment door to pick her up and she opened the door - his eyes trailed down her body, pausing on her hips and chest then collarbones before meeting her eye with a cheeky glimmer.
“Fuckin’ hell, you look amazing,” He had groaned as he stepped forward, pressing his full body against hers as he tilted her chin up to bring their lips together - his hand coming to run along her belly and hips, massaging roughly as he licks at her, “Don’t even want to go to the party now, just want to get you in my bed.”
“Harry,” YN giggled as he hands moved to palm at her bum, gripping up her cheeks before letting them jiggle - he did that a couple times as he kisses her, “We’re going to be late.”
He lets out a spoiled sigh as he steps back, eyes moving over her one more time, “S’a bit unfair how gorgeous you are. How am I supposed to conduct business when you look like this.”
YN can feel her cheeks heat with a shyness, unsure to ever having someone compliment her in the way he does, “Okay charmer, you’re already getting my pants tonight.”
Harry’s smile fades a bit, eyes becoming more serious, his hand grabs her wrist as she turns to start down the hallway, “Hey, I’m not saying those things just to chat you up. I mean them.”
YN feels guilty she made him feel that way, quickly moving to kiss him again, “I know, i'm sorry that came out wrong. I’m not used to having someone compliment me like that. First time.”
“Better get used to it,” He grumbles boyishly, pinching at her lightly, “I don’t think I’m ever going to shut up about how pretty you are.”
-
The compliments that he gave her definitely boosted her self-esteem for the ride there, however when she walked into the dimly lit restraunt, she felt it plummet again not just because of the drop dead females that were already there but how they were staring at harry.
They were gazing at him openly, with glimmer in their eyes, and they weren’t even shy about it - the blatant openness of their attraction made YN know that it wasn’t just in her head.
Harry doesn’t notice or if he does notice, he doesn’t act like he does - his fingers are intertwined with YN’s as he guides them in, the typical stoney expression on his face.
YN doesn’t know if his employees have ever seen him smile.
Probably not as it seemed Harry’s mission to stay as professional and unemotional as possible at these events, she knows he didn’t enjoy them much either but it came with being a boss - he had to attend these things often.
Harry tries to keep YN included in the conversations as the dinner goes on but she doesn’t have much input on data governance plans or how to better track sales by unit which makes her appear more quiet than she usually is.
And she appreciates that Harry isn’t just ignoring her, constantly turning to whisper something sweet in her ear and his hand is glued to her thigh, rubbing circles in soft patterns or squeezing to remind her that he’s there.
She can’t help but feel the weight of the stares of some of the women, it was her first time at an official event as his girlfriend.
A jealous flare shoots up her spine at the thought of Harry bringing other women as his date before her, she wonders if these girls think she’s just another date that will disappear by the next event.
Which she does decide that she thinks is true because none of the women have shame in the way they smile widely, laugh a bit too much at something he said, compliment him on every occasion they can.
Overwhelming would be a good word to describe it, she’s had a few other boyfriends before Harry, some that weren’t too bad looking but she’d never had anyone be so upfront and blunt about their attraction to her partner.
She wondered if maybe it was a rich person thing she had been let in on because Harry didn’t seem surprised by the flirtatious behavior but he also didn’t acknowledge it all.
YN felt a bit foolish as she pushed her food around her plate, a wave of insecurity making her naseous and the beautiful prime rib in front of her unappetizing.
When she stands to go to the bathroom, Harry follows even though she insists he doesn’t need to but apparently has to go to which has them splitting off at the separate bathrooms.
YN has taken a few deep breaths to calm herself down, calm the nausea that is clawing up her throat because she loves Harry so much and she feels so out of place which is something she knows she just has to push past but tonight it’s hard.
She takes a bit longer than necessary in the bathroom, hoping that Harry would have just went back to the table but as she opens the bathroom door - he hears murmurs from around the corner which make her pause to listen because she could recognize Harry’s voice anywhere.
And even though she doesn’t know the name of the women, she recognized the raspy yet high pitched voice from the table, she was wearing a tight red dress and had been batting her eyelashes at Harry all night.
“Just, there’s- we can, in the bathroom,” Red dress is insisting from behind the wall, YN can’t see anything and so she moves forward a little, there’s a plant which blocks the view a little but makes it so she can peak without being spotted.
Red dress is attempting to corner Harry in the hallway, where he was most likely waiting for YN to come out, and she’s stalking towards him like a creeping predator.
“Why the fuck would I want to go in the bathroom with you?” Harry snaps at her without an inkling that he was interested in what she was, “I’m your boss, do you realize how inappropriate you’re being right now?”
“Don’t act like you haven’t looked at me, I know you have,” She’s undeterred as she continues to walk towards him, “I know I’m your type. I know the girls you fuck. Don’t act like I don’t know.”
“You don’t know shit,” Harry replies, his voice colder than she’s ever heard it, and her heart jumps when she watches Red Dress put her hands on his chest and massage at the skin, fingertips trying to sneak into the gap of his barely buttoned shirt.
Harry’s quick as he grips her wrists on his own, using the leverage he has to push her back, and she stumbles on her high heels, surprised that she was just denied like that.
“You can’t push me like that,” She huffs as she straightens out her dress.
“But you can put your disgusting fucking hands on me?” Harry bites out as shakes his head, “I have a girlfriend and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be fucking you. Don’t think so god damn highly of yourself, you’re fuckin’ pathetic, Leah.”
“You kissed me- at that Christmas party two years ago and no-now you act like I don’t even exist,” She accuses and YN can tell the girl is starting to get upset like she actually has feelings for Harry.
“You don’t exist to me,” Harry tells her simply, his eyes are dark but unemotional as he tells her, “I was drunk and you were all over me. It was convenient and nothing else. You’re not as pretty as you think you are.”
YN knows she shouldn’t feel bad for the girl because she had come onto Harry much too forcefully and Harry was her boyfriend but she couldn’t help the pang in her chest as Leah begin to cry more openly at his words.
Harry doesn’t soften up though.
“I just wanted you to give me a chance,” Leah sniffles as wipes her eyes fiercely but her bottom lip is wobbling as she stares at Harry who has his arms crossed and a unreadable expression on his face.
“I was never interested in you. It would have never happened. If I wanted to fuck you, I would have but I didn’t. Get the fuck over it,” Harry tells her without a care of how devastated the girl seems, “And if you try that shit again, I’m going to make sure you’re fired. Get a fucking grip of yourself.”
“You’re a goddamn dickhead,” Leah fires back at him.
“You have about five seconds to get the fuck out of my face before I fire you right now,” Harry warns her calmly, he looks down at his expensive watch to casually fix the band like he’s uninterested which he really seems to be with the whole interaction.
Leah acts like she’s going to start another round of arguements but with the threat of her job, it makes her finally stomp off as she’s reaching in a bag for a tissue.
YN tucks herself back around the wall for a minute, her mind was reeling with what she just saw and she really didn’t know how to process her emotions about it.
Instead of doing so, she gives herself another minute before she’s coming around the corner where Harry is still waiting with his back against the wall and when he sees her, a wide smile crosses his face.
“Darling,” He grins at her, the previous interaction didn’t show in his body language or face at all, “I can’t wait for this dinner to be over. I was thinkin’ we could take a dip in the pool?”
YN hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether she wants to bring up what she just witnessed - it was the issue of her coming onto him because he very obviously turned her down and wasn’t interested but the way he treated her in doing so.
It wasn’t necessarily wrong in the way that she did touch him without permission but the cruel manner in which he spoke to her without an ounce of empathy and coldness wracking through his body.
Again, did it concern her?
No, it wasn’t really her business.
But there was a bit of a inkling of anxiety, what if she fucks up, what if she does something he really doesn’t like?
Was she going to get that same unwavering coldness?
-
4 months in the relationship
The most he’s ever done while YN was annoyed at him over a stupid event he agreed they’d both attend interrupted her plans for them to just stay home and cuddle.
He’d still been slightly amused by her disgruntled disposition as she came out of his shower, hair in a towel, and one wrapped under her arms as she pointedly tossed her dress on his bed with a bit too much drama.
“I don’t want to go, Harry,” YN tells him with an edge in her tone.
“Then why did you agree when I asked you if you would a month ago?” Harry retorts back but there’s mirth in his eyes as he watches her pout and whine.
“I want to cuddle and watch Christmas movies, its three days before Christmas! Not go sit at some event where everyone jsut tries to kiss your ass all night,” She grumbles as begins to pat her hair with the towel to get the extra moisture out of it, “I’m not going.”
That seems to surprise Harry, eyebrows raising, “I want you to come with me. It’s why I asked you to come. We can come home after and watch all the movies you want.”
“Harry, I always go to these things. It’s the one time I don’t want to go-“
“You’re being a spoiled brat,” Harry sighs but it’s not that emotionless snap she heard that night in the hallway, there was exasperation in his tone, sure, but not what she was expecting, “I really want you to go.”
“And I don’t want to, Harry,” YN stays firm, she just wasn’t in the mood to go sit in a uptight hotel ballroom for six hours on a Friday night when she’s worked and had school all week, “I’m staying home.”
Harry’s definetly annoyed at this point but he simply replies, “Fine.”
“Fine?” YN checks because it’s not that she’s trying to rile him up but she’s desperately curious to see how he responds to her when he’s mad - so maybe she is metaphorically poking the bull.
“I said it’s fine,” He repeats slower, his jaw ticks the slightest and the grip on the hanger in his hand tightens but he’s turning around quickly and heading back into the closet.
YN’s watches him retreat, worried about what’s to come - maybe it’s because she remembers how toxic her parents fights where piled on with how Harry treats people when he’s angry that she expects the worse.
Because she’s not going, she pulls on comfy clothes before slipping into his massive bed and turning on the television as well as the fireplace to get in the Christmas mood.
Harry reappears from his walk-in closet a few minutes later in another one of his pristinely tailored suits, his hair still messy but more managed, and he’s clasping a watch on his wrist.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Harry tells her with a void of enthusiasm in his voice, his eyes tracing over her as she lays in his bed, “Call me if you need me. I love you.”
“Harry,” YN frowns because his goodbye was short and to the point, he didn’t come to give her a kiss as he headed towards the door, “Why are you mad at me?”
Harry stops for a moment to look back at her, “I’m frustrated because I pictured this evening with you. I only look forward to going to these things because you’re with me. You’re the only thing that makes them manageable. I get you don’t want to go but I wish you could just push through it for me.”
“I just don’t want to tonight, it’s not every one,” YN clarifies even though she knows he’s not stupid and knows that already - she was just exhausted and didn’t feel like moving for the next twelve to twenty-four hours let alone get dressed up and act interested in stuff she understood nothing about.
“I don’t get why we’re going back and forth,” Harry points out as his phone buzzes in his pocket, he ignores it, “I said it was fine, I told you I love you, and that I’d be back. I didn’t force you to come with me, YN. I’ll be home in a few hours and we can watch whatever movies you want, okay? I love you.”
He’s tenser than usual, his shoulders raised a bit higher but his voice is still a soft rasp, maybe a bit of sharpness but nothing that detectable, and his face isn’t hardened like when he’s mad at other people.
She realizes pretty quickly after he left that she was the one who was in the wrong, it was shitty of her to cancel last minute and then be upset that Harry had a reaction to it.
YN just hoped that when he came in the door that he wouldn’t be cross with her or see that coldness that she’s never experienced for herself cross over his face.
It’s about nine when he finally arrives home, YN had moved downstairs to the living room where she had Family Christmas Vacation playing and a cup of hot cocoa on the table beside her - cuddled up in a ridiculously expensive cashmere blanket.
“Hi,” YN says sheepishly when Harry appears in the doorway, his shoes already kicked off and he was undoing the buttons on his barely buttoned shirt, shucking off his suit jacket and placing it on the arm of the couch.
“Hi,” He murmurs back, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before looking back to unclasp the watch, pulling off a few of his heavier rings, and putting them in a small dish.
“I want to apologize,” YN admits as she grabs the remote, muting the movie as she sits up more from where she had been lounging.
“Yeah?” Harry hums as he watches her, she can’t tell what he’s thinking because his eyes aren’t dull, they’re glimmering and bright but he has a stoic expression like he’s trying to stand his ground, “For being a brat?”
And it’s playful, a smile finally cracking at the corner of his mouth, and fuck, it’s so beautiful.
YN can’t help the giggle that leaves her mouth as she watches him shrug off his dress shirt - he looked a bit obscene in just his tight trousers, his tattoos and rippling stomach leading into a pair of navy blue Gucci pants with a thin leather belt.
“Yes, for being a brat,” She laments but then sobers up to actually apologize, “For canceling last minute, that wasn’t right of me. I shouldn’t have questioned why you were mad because you had every right to be. I’m sorry.”
Harry’s walking over to her, sitting down next to her and sinking into the plush cushions, “Don’t have to apologize, pet. I love you,” and with that he’s pulling her onto his lap until she’s straddling his waist.
It can’t be that easy…
“But Harry,” YN continues because she’s just surprised that he’s not angry anymore because if the situation was reversed, she can admit that she would be annoyed when she got home still, “I really am sorry.”
“And you don’t have to be, okay? I get wanting to stay in. S’fine, darling. It just made me look forward to coming home more, knowing that you were all curled up in my clothes in my house,” Harry rasps and he seems so sincere that she can’t question it anymore, ducking down to kiss him, and in disbelief that he forgave her that easily.
The next morning as she reflected on it, as he made her pancakes in his briefs in kitchen, she realized that she needed to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, that she had to have more faith in her boyfriend that for some odd reason - he won’t treat her like the rest of the world, he won’t shut her out like he does with everyone else.
-
6 months into the relationship
That was two months ago, this is now, the same feeling is coming back with a vengeance - especially because what transpires is a pretty decent reason to not only get mad but possibly end a relationship.
YN’s stubbornness to be independent has only gotten better by a smidge, if any, and when she is putting the keys in the ignition of her fifteen year old car that she bought for only two thousand pounds of off Craigslist, the engine didn’t so much as turn.
There was no signal that the key had activated any type of triggers to start the car - the was no clicking or whirling, nor any lights on the dashboard, absolutely nothing.
“Are you kidding me,” YN groans as she uselessly turns the key a few more times like it will magically start up but is met with nothing as expected which makes her rest her forehead on the steering wheel, “Fuck.”
She knew that she had no money in her bank account to get the car towed, let alone take it to the mechanic and pay for whatever needs fixed - who knows it might not even be fixable and her affording a new car right now is laughable.
Literally anyone else in the world may consider this to be a good time to ask their billionaire significant other for funds to help with the fix or a new car but not YN.
It’s not like it doesn’t cross her mind, it would be the easiest fix, she knows Harry would take her out that day and purchase her any car that she wanted but she wasn’t using him for his money and just because he had an exorbitant amount of it didn’t mean that she was entitled to any of it.
YN felt like she didn’t get to this point in her life, of working so hard, just to rely on a man - maybe because she sees how much her grandma struggled because she got married and had kids instead of going to college or she sees her mum who relied on her father and that turned fucking south quick.
YN is frustrated with herself when she feels hot tears start to trickle down her face but she can’t do anything to make her car turn on, and the pub she works at isn’t too far.
She normally may walk to save gas money but she lives in a bad part of town which means that walking to her job requires her to walk through all the other unsavory streets of her neighborhood.
It didn’t phase her much, she didn’t grow up in the safest area either, it more so made Harry worry - he really hated where she lived and he hated even more that she wouldn’t let him put her up in a nicer apartment.
There’s no other choice when she grabs her purse from the passenger seat and gets out of the car, locking it even if it's pointless, and beginning her trek to work.
Harry visited her every night that she worked if he didn’t have a work dinner, business meeting, or something that caused him to be out late after he left the office.
YN tries not to let her car worry her too much but she is still in her last semester of university and she’ll have to take a bus now because it’s too far to walk and the bus adds almost an hour onto her commute.
The anxiety about being car-less doesn’t fade much throughout the night of serving patrons, she’s not a chipper as she usually is, and just wants to be done for the night.
The pub closes at eleven on weekdays and she was on closing shift, Harry trails in around ten, still in his suit and as always, much too overdressed for the run-down establishment.
There’s not many people in the bar at this point, all the regulars who spent hours at the bar a day knew Harry by now so they didn’t get starstruck when they saw him but there were always a few people playing pool or sitting in a booth who would whisper when they realized who he was.
YN was distracted, didn’t see him walk in, has her back turned as she’s polishing a glass, and hyper focusing on trying to get a smudge out of it when she hears a smooth rasp that she’d be able to know anywhere, “Excuse me, darling. Can I get a rum and coke? Maybe a kiss?”
A smile automatically grazes her face, she can’t help it as she turns around and puts the glass down, “I don’t serve men who talk to me like that.”
“Oh no? What do you prefer, sweetheart? Baby? Or was it the kiss? I could go for a myriad of other different things, maybe your mouth on my -“ Harry is grinning widely as he watches YN flush with embarrassment as she shushes him with a stern look.
“You have no shame,” YN accuses as she pulls out a glass for his drink, scooping the ice.
“None,” Harry agrees, his dimples flashing deep in his cheeks, something she always loves to see, “But I would like my kiss.”
YN slides the drink across the bar to him, leaning over to quickly peck him, not wanting any of the other sleazy men at the bar to get any ideas or say anything creepy (even though Harry would correct them).
“Where’s your car?” Harry asks like he just remembers it was a question he had, he takes a sip and watches her as she continues to do little tasks to start to clean up for the night, “I didn’t see it anywhere on the street.”
It was street parking, usually YN was able to get a spot right near the front of the restaurant so she did not have a long walk to it at night when the bar closed and she forgot that Harry would catch onto that.
“It wouldn’t start when I was trying to leave for work. It did nothing when I turned the key in the ignition, I think that my engine died or it’s something big that needs to be fixed.”
“That car's old as dirt. It’s not worth it to put any money into it at this point. You need a new car,” Harry points out and logically, she knows he’s not wrong but he makes it seem so easy - it is easy for the man who has a multi-million pound car collection.
“Yeah, let me just go out tomorrow and get a brand new car,” YN’s tone is a bit sharper than she intended and the sarcasm was dripping through every word which made Harry’s smile falter slightly.
“Okay, let’s,” He challenges as he puts his drink down, “Our seven month anniversary is coming up in about two weeks. Let me buy you a new car to celebrate.”
“Harry,” YN warns as she knew how this was going to go down, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Harry replies as fire starts to flicker in his eyes, he wasn’t going to let this go, “Don’t help my girlfriend when I have the full capability of doing so? You don’t want a new car? Fine. Let me buy you a used one or pay to fix your car.”
“No,” YN shakes her head, her hands shaking with irritation as she tries to keep her attention by wiping down the glasses that just came out of the washer.
“It’s not an option, pet,” Harry tells her, he’s being firm in a way he only he when he wants his way and knows he’s right, stubborn meet stubborn, “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you that’s what we're doing. You’re not walking here and then back home at night. You have to get to school.”
“I’ve told you a million times, I’m not going to use you for money, Harry,” YN grits out because she knows this isn’t going to end well, most of the times she can push off Harry’s generosity with a little fight but she didn’t see them getting out of this one without a few scratches.
“You’re not using me. I’m trying to help you. You’re my girlfriend and I want to make sure you’re safe. You’ll be safer with a car,” Harry matched her energy now, putting his glass down and sitting back, arms crossed on his broad chest.
“I can’t ask you to buy me a car, that’s absurd,” YN doesn’t think he sees how mental that is, to just offer to buy someone a car, and maybe it’s because her bank account looks like the opposite of his but this isn’t an everyday event - people just don’t buy other people cars.
At least not in YN’s world.
Harry pulls his cellphone out of his inner jacket pocket and puts it on the bar, looking down at it pointedly before meeting YN’s frustrated stare, “Do I need to show you my bank accounts? Even just one of them? I make enough money in five minutes to buy you a brand new car. Would I not be an asshole if I didn’t offer? Plus, I want to buy you one. I’ve been wanting to since I’ve seen the shitty little sedan.”
That offends YN, she’s not going to lie, it’s why her voice is edged with annoyance when she says, “Don’t talk shit on my car. I had to work for nearly a year to afford it. I worked hard for that car and I don’t appreciate you saying that, Harry.”
Harry seems to understand what he said wasn’t nice by the guilt that flickers over his expression and he reaches out for her which a bit begrudgingly she steps forward and lets Harry take her hand.
“I’m sorry, you're right. I shouldn’t speak down about that. Please, baby. Let me do this for you. You know we’re going to be together, you know I’m going to marry you. All my money will be yours soon anyways. Just let me do this one thing right now,” Harry’s nearly begging, she knows how important it is that she’s safe, she knows how much he worries about her safety.
However, there is just something in her where she doesn’t allow herself to say yes to his offers despite all the good intentions behind the words, she knows that there are no strings attached but she just can’t accept any of it.
“Harry, I’m not letting you buy me a car or give me money to fix it. End of story,” YN’s voice is shakier than she’d prefer because she doesn’t know how she’s going to make it work but her pride was stupidly more important than transportation.
“Telling me ‘no’ isn’t an option,” Harry’s soft smile has completely disappeared, the dimples carved into his cheeks were gone, and his jawline was tight and sharp, “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re fuckin’ insane if you think I’m going to let you walk home from the pub at night or take three buses to get to university.”
“Harry,” YN tries again because it’s a losing battle, she’s going to start to give in either because she knows she actually needs help or because she doesn’t want this to start a fight, “I just-“
“Enough,” Harry says firmly, louder than his normal tone, a few patrons look over at them before quickly minding their own business again, it was the loudest he’s ever been with her.
“I’m not arguing anymore with you about it. You have until tomorrow before your shift to figure out how I’m going to help you. Whether it’s money to fix it, going to get a new car, taking one of the cars I already have.”
YN couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t startled by his harsh tone, the anger and irritation dripping into his features which she’d seen before but usually it was directed at everyone else but her, his patience was typically on a longer thread than this.
“Finish your shift,” Harry bites out, he pulls out his wallet and throws a hundred pounds down to cover his five pound drink before standing up, “I’ll be in a booth, finishing some work.”
YN watches as he grabs the black leather messenger bag he came in with that stores his laptop and makes his way to a booth in the far corner where no one would bother him and there was an outlet to plug in his computer.
He occasionally did work when he came into the pub, it was only when the establishment was so busy that YN didn’t have time to chat with him because she was too busy bartending or running food.
It was a clear message now due to the fact that she wasn’t busy, he didn’t want to interact with her right now because he was angry with her and it didn’t make her feel good.
Normally he’d be glancing up occasionally to meet her eye, giving her a cheeky smile or a wink but now she couldn’t catch his gaze because he kept his eyes strictly on the screen in front of him as he typed away.
This may be the first time that Harry has officially been mad at her.
The irrational side of her wants to throw a fit and tell him that it’s not fair that he’s mad, she’s allowed to turn down money and cars.
The logical side of her knows that Harry is trying to be a supportive partner who has the means to provide her help and that it’s only an offer out of kindness and love but nothing else - no strings attached if he would help her.
Those two polar opposite sides were fighting with each other right now because she didn’t know what to expect with Harry’s anger directed at her for once.
People slowly start to filter out of the pub as it gets closer to the eleven pm close time and by the time YN has the bar completely wiped down, glasses cleaned and put away, and garnishes cut for tomorrow - it’s just Harry and her left.
Harry tucks his laptop into his bag and slips out of the booth, he was breathtakingly beautiful even when he was tense with his lips tight together, a dent between his eyebrows, and frown lines lightly traced into the skin around his mouth from always scowling.
They’re silent as they walk to his car, parked right in front, the suicide doors swing up automatically when he presses the unlock button his fob and YN is getting into the passenger side.
As the engine purrs to life, smooth and barely audible, Harry’s adjusting the temperature on the touch screen and asks, “Am I taking you to your apartment or home?”
Home.
He never said my home, my house.
It was your apartment or home - like the slightest invitation that it could be hers too.
“Home,” YN decides because even though it might be better to have a bit of time apart if he’s truly upset with her, she doesn’t want to spend the whole night awake in her bed and wondering if he’s just contemplating their relationship.
She knows the fight isn’t that serious but her insecurity always creeps in during moments that she’s unsure or nervous.
Harry nods but doesn’t say anything else as he pulls away from the curb, his fingers are tight where they’re wrapped around the wheel and the normal hand that’s on her thigh is instead just resting limply on his own.
YN isn’t going to cry.
She’s not going to cry just because Harry’s a little upset with her.
It’s quiet for the first five minutes of the car ride and YN realizes that Harry has no intention of breaking the silence first, he doesn’t even look like he’s about to talk at any point.
“I’m sorry,” YN breathes out after a bated breath, “I shouldn’t have gotten that defensive with you. I know you’re just trying to be a good partner to me.”
Harry doesn’t look over at her but he sighs, broad shoulders slumping in relief as he murmurs, “You’ll let me buy you a car then?”
And that is not what YN was insinuating or hinting to at all.
“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” YN’s tone becomes sharp again because he misinterpreted her apology, “No, I’m not. I’m just apologizing for my reaction to your offer.”
The more relaxed look that had crossed Harry’s face disappears back into the same stoic expression she saw when they were leaving the bar when she looks over at him - she can see his jaw muscle twitch as he grits his teeth like he’s trying not to speak.
“I’m not accepting your apology. You don’t sound sorry,” Harry replies curtly, eyes directly on the road ahead, “I do not care if it means I buy you the cheapest car on the market. I’m not going to have my fuckin’ girlfriend walking alone at night in the city or struggle to get her education when I can help it. You’re not letting me take care of you which is what I am supposed to do as your significant other.”
“Boyfriends don’t just buy their girlfriends cars!” YN points out with a lift in her voice, a bit hysterical, and she throws her hands up in exasperation like it’s an obvious point.
“They do when they’re fucking billionaires!” Harry retorts but he’s loud enough now that he’s nearly yelling, making YN jump in her seat with the unexpected increase in volume in the small car, “They do when they can because they don’t want their girlfriend to have to suffer or have a harder life than they need to! But apparently you just like being fucking difficult!”
YN was at a loss of words, partly because she was surprised by how frustrated he is and partly because she knows he’s right - she knows that she’s being stubborn and that she’s being difficult, there’s an easy solution she isn’t taking it.
When YN doesn’t speak Harry continues, “I know where you come from. I know how much you’ve fought for what you have and that you don’t want to rely on anyone. If you can’t rely on the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you have fucking no one. I know you’re prideful, I am the most prideful bastard on this earth but if you can’t be vulnerable with me then I must be doing something wrong.”
That kickstarts YN to say something because she doesn’t want him to every think that her stubbornness is due to him or because he hasn’t been a good partner - that’s never ever something she wants him to ever feel because he’s the exact opposite - he’s so fucking wonderful.
“Harry, that’s not-“
“No,” Harry cuts her off, “I have nothing more that I want to talk about right now.”
YN has never been shut down like this by him, she has to try one more time, “Harry…”
He shakes his head though, hand coming up to pause her words, his voice is dead serious but softer, “I’m not talking about this anymore tonight. I want to go home and go to sleep.”
YN looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, and swallows a few times to choke back tears - she feels like a crybaby, she started the fight and now that Harry stood his ground with her, she feels like crumbling in on herself.
Even in his state of frustration with her now, he still wasn’t acting like the man she’d seen yelling at employees or turning down females who were trying to take him home - that wasn’t her Harry, she didn’t know the person who acted that way.
Her Harry was still right next to her in the car, it didn’t feel like the stranger with anger issues but it still hurt to see his guard up like he didn’t want to talk anymore because he didn’t want to risk showing emotion.
It’s not even another ten minutes to the house, pulling into the garage where there’s a fleet of other cars taunting her, and Harry’s cutting the engine quickly before the doors are folding back up.
They have such a routine of Harry’s hand on her thigh in the car, him intertwining their hands when they’re walking into his house, and neither happens.
Harry doesn’t make a move to hold her hand, instead he’s walking into the house without looking at her - already shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it carelessly on the kitchen island which was unlike him, kicking off his leather boots without a glance at where they land as he makes his way towards the staircase.
Normally, he would have kept all his clothes on until they were in his walk-in closet where he would meticulously put his shoes back in their spot and put the dirty clothes in one of his many hampers specific to certain items.
It’s no better when they’re upstairs because Harry is disappearing into the walk-in closet to change, coming out a minute later in a pair of grey joggers.
He has a shirt of his and a pair of sleep shorts she leaves at his house in his hand, along with a pair of underwear that she keeps a few in a drawer in the closet and hands it to her.
His face is blank when she mutters a “thanks.”
Only nodding at her before he’s getting into bed and opening a book that he had laying on his bedside table without glancing her way.
She showers quickly, scrubbing the scent of greasy food and cigarette smoke out of her hair and off her body with his expensive body wash before changing into the sleep clothes.
YN pads over to the opposite side of the bed but doesn’t slip underneath the covers yet, sitting cross-legged instead, and grasping her hands together, “Harry.”
Harry doesn’t look away from his book, flat as he responds, “Yes?”
“Why do you not want to talk to me right now?” YN hates how she sounds a bit whiny, needy.
“We tried to talk and we argued. We were going back and forth. I told you that a decision needs to be made by tomorrow night. I’m frustrated and I don’t want to fight even more than we have. I’m setting a boundary and I’m done talking about it for the night, I want to go to sleep,” Harry closes his book, placing it back on the table before he’s finally meeting her eyes albeit warily.
YN bites her bottom lip because she wants to keep talking about it but she also knows that the points he’s making are valid and she doesn’t want to be disrespectful by pushing him.
“Okay,” She agrees, feeling like a scolded child, and she doesn’t really know how to act so she gets underneath the plush comforter and pulls it nearly up to her chin, facing away from him, and burying her face in the pillow to avoid tears.
A few moments later, she can hear rustle as Harry moves to switch off his lamp and flood the room into darkness as lays down but she feels hands wrap around her waist until he brings her into his chest to spoon.
“Just because I’m frustrated doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Harry reminds her as he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck then her shoulder blade, “You’re stubborn and not listening but I’m so fuckin’ in love with you I can’t see straight.”
All the tension in YN’s body melts at his sweet words, sinking back further into his hold and putting her hands over hers where they’re laying on her tummy, “I’m so in love with you. It seems too good to be true sometimes, you’re so good to me.”
Harry continues to plant kisses along her skin, chuckling softly before murmuring, “I wish you could be inside my mind sometimes. I could show you all I want to do is care, protect, love you. Maybe it would make more sense to you why I do the things I do but since that’s not an option, you need to trust my intentions.”
“I’ll make a decision by tomorrow night,” YN finally agrees as she brings his hand up to kiss it, “When you pick me up tomorrow from work, I’ll tell you what I’ve decided.”
“Thank you, baby,” Harry sighs with relief, flooding his tone.
It makes YN feel guilty that she’s been stressing him out in the first place but now, she has to figure out how she’s going to fight her pride and put her relationship first.
-
YN luckily didn’t have class today which meant she could focus on homework as she relaxed at Harry’s house.
She had a shift from four to eleven at work but besides that, her day was free.
Harry was off to work before she even woke up but all she could think about was her decision on what she was going to do.
Harry was a CEO - he thrived on precision and being punctual which meant he wasn’t going to forget about the deadline he had set for her tonight.
She really is struggling to find the solution which is the middle ground of Harry helping her but not fully relying on him for his monetary contribution.
Nothing is clicking when she checks her bank account which has a hundred and thirty pounds to last her until tonight if she’s tipped well ( the only reason she has a hundred is because Harry tipped her that unreasonable amount).
YN’s halfway through a discussion board post when her phone begins to ring, the light twinkling song signaling that it’s her grandma calling her, and she answers right away, “Hi gran, everything okay?”
“A little birdie told me that you’re being a stubborn mule,” Rosemary chimes in her motherly tone, an lift of scolding and enough of it to make YN feel like she’s being told she’s bad.
YN loved that Harry and Rosemary had a great relationship.
She hated that they talked shit behind her back about her without any shame or secrecy.
Harry was using reinforcements, he knew that Rosemary would help give YN an extra push in the right direction if he couldn’t get her there on his own and he had definitely called her this morning to complain about her.
“Wonder who that would be,” YN replies with a huff.
“You should accept his help,” Rosemary tells her with no wavering in her words, “You know this is the man you’re going to marry. He just wants to help you.”
“You’re the one who taught me to work for everything I’ve got, don’t accept hand-outs, don’t-“
“Do not twist my words,” Her gran cuts in with a harshness, any lightness in her voice was gone with how stern she now was, “I have taught you to work hard, to not give up, and to not spend your life relying on people, that’s true.”
“I did not teach you not to accept help when needed from trusted people,” Rosemary reminds, “There were times that I couldn’t afford winter jackets for you and your sister despite how much I was working. Frank Jackson, down the road, offered to buy them and you think I wanted to accept the help? It wounded my pride that I couldn’t afford them myself but I said yes to his help because you being warm in the winter was more important than my damn pride.”
“Swallow your pride, YN,” Her gran tells her with conviction in her tone, “Your life partner offering you help doesn’t make you weak or not capable. This isn’t the time to dig your heels into the ground and put up a fight. Your pride isn't of any use if it destroys you in the end.”
-
YN respected her grandmother with everything in her, for the next few hours the words she spoke let spin and process through YN’s mind a million different ways before she finally makes her choice.
Harry had another business dinner that night as well as taking prospective clients to a theater show which meant he was pulling up to the pub right around the time her shift ended.
YN’s slipping into the passenger side with a small, unsure smile as Harry returns it cautiously, waiting for whatever she’s about to say.
It looks like he’s bracing himself for another round of arguments by the way he’s tense and uncomfortable.
“You called my gran,” YN pants out, a bit out of breath from the sharp chill in the air.
“I did,” Harry confirms, fingers tapping nervously on the wheel, “I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell her to call you. I asked her for advice on how to deal with….with your stubbornness.”
He has the decency to look sheepish as he admits it.
YN reaches over to take his hand, pulling it into her lap, and telling him, “I made a choice and I’m sorry that I have made this so difficult but I’m…I’m still learning to let you help and it’s hard.”
Harry brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, waiting for her to continue.
“I was thinking that I could maybe use one of your cars until I can save up enough to either repair mine or buy a new used car? That way you’re not spending any money and I can still try to pay for it myself.”
Harry studies her face for a moment, lips pursing as he thinks about what she just suggested, and he doesn’t look upset, just thoughtful, “I’ll agree to that but with one contingency. If in six months you still do not have the money, I can either give you the car you’ll be driving or I can buy you one.”
YN knows she won’t have the money in six months but maybe in six months she’ll feel more comfortable with him buying or giving her one and much to his surprise, she says, “Deal.”
“Mmm,” Harry hums as he leans over to console to kiss her, hand cupping her jaw, “I like when you let me spoil you, s’ my favorite thing in the world to do.”
“I worry about when we will have kids, can you imagine how spoiled they-“ YN’s eyes widened at her admission, “I didn’t-I just.”
Harry cuts off her anxious blabbering with a sweet, honey smile on his face, kissing her once again and saying, “They’re going to be the most spoiled.”
-
The next morning, YN is still half-asleep when Harry drags her out of bed at six, and he’s already fully dressed about to leave for the day when he brings her into the garage.
He clicks a fob in his hand until a white Porsche’s headlights blink to signal it’s unlocked, that’s been parked front and center, and it was one of the newest cars in his collection.
“I want you to drive this one. It’s by far the easiest one in my collection to drive if you don’t have experience with luxury engines. It drives smoothly but operates just like most sedans,” Harry hands her the keys before he’s kissing her cheek in a rush, “I’m sorry, I’m already behind. Call me if you have any questions, I love you.”
“I love you,” YN says distractedly as she holds the key and looks at the car.
She can’t even stomach thinking about how much he paid for this and she’s going to have to drive it this morning to get to school.
She has driven a few of his cars in the past but it was always with him in the passenger seat but now this whole car was going to be her responsibility, she really shouldn’t be worried because she’s always been a safe driver.
YN decides she needs a few more hours of sleep before she builds up the courage to drive that thing.
-
The drive to school was fine, Harry wasn’t lying when he said it was a pretty easy car to use, and there weren't any super fancy buttons or paddles that she needed to push.
She wasn’t as tense when she was pulling onto the highway after her last class of the day, the fear of something happening had started to dissipate all together as she turned up her music and began to sing along to it - she could actually herself getting used to driving this thing.
YN had to stop at the grocery store to pick up a few things she wanted to make for dinner the next night when she didn’t have to work and so she turned down a different street than usual if she was going to Harry’s house.
It’s a residential road in one of the nicer neighborhoods.
She's noticed a car coming up the side road out of one of the housing plans but they have a stop sign where YN doesn’t.
As anyone would, it doesn't even track in her mind because they’re going to stop at their stop sign so YN doesn’t prepare herself to have to hit her brakes or try to swerve when the other sedan doesn’t stop.
YN lets out a surprised scream when realizes that the driver of the other car doesn’t yield to the stop sign which results in them hitting the passenger side door of the Porsche going at least fifteen miles per hour.
YN doesn’t have time to think before the airbags are deploying which are hitting her right in her mouth as she slams on her brakes until she comes to a full stop - her car now in the middle of the road where it’s been pushed by the other vehicle.
She’s so shaken by the extremely loud clash of the impact, the smokey smell emitting from the deployed airbags, and the burning pain on her chest where the seat belt seized up and did its job.
YN just sits in shock as the people from the other car, two men, rush out to open her door to make sure that she’s okay, and YN just feels stuck in her seat as she comprehends that she wrecked and the car was damaged.
Harry.
What the fuck was she going to do?
Her brain was in such confusion, anxiety, and trying to process the traumatic situation that she couldn’t think of what she should do.
The obvious option would have been to call Harry but her brain was telling her that he was going to be furious with her that she wrecked his car.
“Are you okay?”
“Miss?”
“Do we need to call an ambulance?”
YN finally snaps out of her stupor as she shakily unbuckles her seatbelt, wincing as it comes off her chest, and getting out of the driver’s seat to stand next to the two extremely worried men.
“I think…I think I’m okay,” YN mumbles as she takes a few steps, nothing feels broken and the only thing that hurts is her chin from the impact of the airbag and the friction burn on her chest, luckily her neck, back, and head didn't hurt at all.
“Thank god, we were so busy bullshiting we weren’t paying attention. We’re so so sorry,” The man apologizes as his eyes widen, realizing exactly what car he just hit, “Oh my god, this…shit.”
Like he just realized that his insurance is either going to go up or kick him off after hitting such an expensive car.
“Is this your car?” The passenger of the other car asks as they wait for authorities to show up.
“My boyfriend’s,” YN replies shortly, shakily.
“I hope he a nice guy, I’d break up with my girl if she even put a dent in a car this nice-“
The driver elbows his friend with a scolding look before trying to mend the situation, “He can’t be upset, she didn’t do anything wrong.”
It just sends her spiraling further.
It wasn’t long until the police showed up to file a report, offering both parties to be checked out at the hospital but both her and the other men declined.
They were nice, apologetic, and YN was too numb in the moment to be angry with them for being careless.
“Where would you like this towed?” The police officer asks as he jots information down on his notepad.
“Er, Jeffey’s?” YN fumbles out the first mechanic shop she can think of, the cheap one that does work on her car.
The cop laughs because he thinks she’s telling a joke but his smile disappears when he realizes that she’s not, “I can guarantee they don’t work on this type of car there. I would recommend sending it straight to the dealership.”
“Oh, um - okay, do that,” YN nods jerkily, her hands shaking and the cop goes back to his car to call for a tow.
The tow truck driver takes her along and drops her off at the dealership as well where she sits in an expensive leather chair as she waits for someone to come speak with her.
A man in a sharp suit with gelled hair and a confused look on his face walks over to her after about thirty minutes, “Hello, I’m Rich. I was expecting Mr. Styles?”
“Oh,” YN was stumbling over her words and at the time, she didn't realize that it makes her look suspicious and not like she’s a bit traumatized because she was just in an accident.
“I am his sales associate that he contacts when he’s purchasing a new Porsche,” Rich explains slowly.
Harry had a certain person for just buying Porsches?
That was a thing?
“I just sold him that car about a month ago.”
“I’m his girlfriend,” YN says weakly, she was trying to be professional but was coming off as flighty and nervous as her leg shook, “I’ll be paying for the repair.”
Why the fuck did she just say that?
“Alright,” Rich says easily enough, “Would you like to come back to my office so we can discuss what needs to be repaired? Our mechanic just emailed me the quote. Of course, we don’t know how much the other driver’s insurance will cover but most insurances won’t cover the full price of luxury repair but cover a percentage.”
Fuck.
YN walks back to the office with him, her college backpack still on her shoulder as she ignores the eyes following her with curiosity and suspicion all the way.
Rich hums as he clicks around on his computer, pulling up the quote, and tilting the screen to show her what he’s looking at, “As you can see, the passenger side front and back door will need replaced, the windshield is cracked in three places which will need change-“
He continues to rattle on about what needs to be fixed but all she can see is the estimated cost at the bottom of the document for the parts and labor without insurance coverage.
Fifty-five thousand dollars.
For a car.
To fix a car.
YN thinks she might throw up or pass out or both.
“YN? Are you alright?” Rich asks after he asks a question she doesn’t respond to.
“Yes,” But it's a whisper, she doesn’t know what to do, and everything is fuzzy as she says, “Um, you can just-. Fix the car and I’ll pay whatever isn’t covered by the insurance.”
The salesman doesn’t look convinced and instead offers her a kind smile, “I know you’ve been through quite a bit today. Why don’t you call me tomorrow once their insurance has contacted us and we can discuss?”
YN nods as she gets up, “That would….that would be better. Thank you for everything.”
And she feels like she’s basically running out of that dealership.
After she’s left, Rich picks up the phone, and dials a number right away but it’s rings and rings and rings.
“Hello, you’ve reached Harry Styles at Styles & Marketing Company. Leave me a message and I or my secretary will return it at the earliest convenience. Thank you.”
“Mr. Styles, it’s Rich from Hampstead Porsche….”
-
By the time she leaves the dealership, she’s cutting it close to her shift at the pub, and she doesn’t really have any other choice than to order an Uber that cuts into her already short funds.
When she gets into work, going to the bathroom to change into her work clothes, she removes the sweatshirt she was wearing, and hisses as she sees the burn on her chest - right between her breasts where the seatbelt had rested.
She has to be careful as she tugs her shirt on but whines when the soft fabric brushes the tender skin, it makes tears prick at the corner of her eyes and realizes her body is aching a bit more as the day wears on.
Her shift is long, feels like it drags on for nearly a century as she messes up on quite a few drink orders and pours the wrong liquor in a cocktail - all her mind could think about was that Harry would break up with her for getting in an accident in his car.
YN had made the mistake of looking in the folder that Rich had when he’d try to show her different estimates or what not, her eyes stumbling along the lines until she realized that Harry had paid nearly two hundred thousand pounds for the car.
She isn’t expecting Harry when he walks in around ten, he’s in more casual clothes because he had an earlier day at work, and blended in more to the crowd in some Nike jogging shorts and a hoodie.
YN can feel herself forcing an excited smile when Harry sits down at the relatively empty bar beside a few regulars who were already nursing their drink of choice.
“Hi darling,” Harry greets with a wide smile, the one when he’s actually happy, it makes his dimples pop and the crows feet near his eyes more prevalent, “Car run okay for you today? Any issues? It wasn’t park out front.”
“I parked it a few blocks away, the street was er…busy when I got here,” YN flat out lies and she feels awful for it already, like the truth was clawing up and out of her throat, making her nauseous and dizzy, “It was a nice drive. Smooth like you said.”
Harry doesn’t think anything of it, taking a swig of the rum and coke that she puts in front of him, “I’m glad you liked it. I’d really love to give you that car. I’m hoping you fall in love with it and don’t want to part with it.”
YN’s stomach is on the floor because fuck, he’s so sweet and genuine.
And right now, she feels like an asshole.
“Maybe,” YN shrugs noncommittally and Harry’s watching her, curiosity in his eyes as he smiles like he thinks she’s downplaying how much she actually likes the car.
“Just think about it, m’heart,” Harry hums and then he’s leaning over the counter, just like he always does, his hand comes to firmly grip her chin to pull her lips to his but a sharp ache shoots through YN’s body as it’s right where the airbag hit her.
YN flinches, instantly pulling away with a hiss, and Harry’s eyes widen in confusion at her reaction.
She fumbles before she says, “I’m at work. I can’t kiss you at work.”
“We kiss all the time while you’re working?” Harry responds with hurt laced in his tone, “You act like I just hurt you or something. I was just trying to show you some love.”
YN sighs as she mindlessly wipes the same spot on the bar, “I’m sorry, I know. I just-it’s just been a long day.”
Harry backs off, watching her carefully as she finished her shift but he’s trying to talk about things that will brighten her mood, trying to make her feel better.
It doesn’t work.
As they’re walking out after she locks the door, Harry backs her gently up against the brick wall, hands coming to her hips, and lips pushing against hers.
“I missed you so much today, my love. I was so relieved that you made a choice. So good to me.”
YN kisses him back for a moment, willing her mind to just forget about everything for a moment, and that’s easy to do when his tongue is teasing at hers and he smells like he just walked out of a Tom Ford advert.
But then his hand is coming to palm at one of her breasts which in turn makes her bra brush against the burn on her chest which has her pushing him off once again, making him step back with narrowed eyes.
“Not tonight, Harry. I just told you I didn’t have a good day,” YN snaps as she feels like she’s about to burst into tears any moment if she lets down her guard at all.
Poor Harry is absolutely lost as to what was going on with her tonight.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make it worse,” Harry puts his hand up in surrender, “What’s going on? It seems like more than just your professor being a dick. Did I do something? Are you mad at me for making you decide on transportation?”
“No,” YN groans, running a hand through her hair, “I’m not mad at you for anything, Harry. It’s not about any of that, okay? I’m just…I’m tired and I’m ready to go to bed.”
“I’ll walk you back to your car and then we can go to mine,” Harry says as he goes to intertwine their fingers but YN can’t let him do that because there is no car to walk towards.
“I forgot my laptop charger in the pub,” It wasn’t a lie but she also had a spare at home, “I really just feel like sleeping in my own bed tonight, Harry. I just need some time to myself, you know? It’s really been stressful these past few days and I’m not going to be any fun to be around.”
Harry's face drops in disappointment but he nods in understanding, if YN could feel any lower she would because Harry doesn’t deserve what she’s doing right now but it feels like she has dug a hole that she can’t get out of.
“Alright, are we still having dinner tomorrow?”
“Of course,” YN nods, hoping she can figure something out by then, which what the fuck was she going to do, “Go home, I know you’re tired. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Harry responds slowly as she pecks him, she knows that he wants to follow her back into the pub, walk her to his car but he also is trying to give her the space she’s requesting and so a bit hesitantly, he gets in his car and by the time YN’s back out of the pub, his car is gone.
-
Harry had been uneasy since last night when he went home alone.
He had called her nan, her sister to see if she had called them about anything that was wrong and both confirmed that she hadn’t which made him just so fucking confused to why she was acting like a nervous wreck last night.
Even though she said it wasn’t, he wondered if him getting frustrated the other night and demanding that she make a decision made her question their relationship or think he was controlling.
All the possibilities were running through his mind when he stepped into his office at seven in the morning, his office phone flashing red which meant he had voicemails.
The first two are from different departments within the company but the third one is from a number he doesn’t recognize.
“Hello, Mr. Styles. This is Rick from Hampstead Porsche. I was calling in regard to your recently purchased Porsche Panerama. Today it was towed into the shop after an accident and the female driver, YN LN, reported that she was your girlfriend. She approved the work to fix the damages and stated that she would pay the difference but we didn’t want to start work until we had a guarantee it would be paid and she didn’t give us a credit card. I understand that she was in an accident but she seemed nervous and jumpy. I wanted to confirm that she was indeed your girlfriend or if we need to contact police about the stolen vehicle. Please give me a call back at your earliest availability.”
“I knew it was something,” Harry hissed to himself as he ended the voicemail, standing up and walking right back out of his office, telling Dorothy to cancel everything on his schedule that day.
-
YN startles awake at the sound of her bedroom door being opened, she had been in such a deep sleep she never even heard her front door being unlocked, and when she startles awake, Harry is standing in the doorway in a dark navy suit and a scowl on his face.
“Are you out of you god damn fucking mind?” Harry seethes as he stays in the same spot, not moving anymore into the room, “Have you actually lost your fuckin’ mind?”
YN was taken aback by the anger in his voice, the rasp, and the fire in his eyes, his shoulders were broad and tenses, fist clenching at his sides like he wanted to wreck something.
“Harry, I’m so so sorry. I’ll pay you back,” YN begins to plead with hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she knew she was going to get caught, it was a matter of time.
“You’ll pay me back?” Harry scoffs as he looks at her in bewilderment, “You’ll pay me back?” He repeats in complete and utter disbelief.
“As long as it takes, I know I don’t have the money right but I’ll find a way to. I promise,” YN sniffles as she sits up, crawling closer towards the end of the bed.
“You think I give a fuck about the money?” Harry nearly roars, her neighbors can surely hear him and she was quiver where she was sat as he took a deep breathe to try to calm himself down, “You think I give one single fuck about the money or the fucking car, YN?”
YN doesn’t know what he means, her eyebrows knitting in confusion, “I…I didn’t mean to lie. I was just scared that you would be mad at me, break up with me.”
Harry laughs without humor as his bottom lip starts to quiver, almost like he’s about to cry, and YN is taken aback by it, “Do you not hear me? I don’t give a fuck about a car or about money. You could have been hurt and you didn’t tell me.”
And then it clicks for her.
He’s not upset about the wrecked car.
He was worried about her and only her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you,” YN whimpers as she looks down at her hands, “I thoug-I was so scatterbrained after the accident, I didn’t know what to tell you, and the guys at the scene said dumb stuff and I panicked.”
Harry finally takes a step forward but he doesn’t touch her, “Nothing means anything if I don’t have you. How could you possibly think that I would care about a car more than you?”
YN frowns because she didn’t think about it like that.
She knee walks closer until she can wrap her arms around Harry’s waist and bring him closer, pressing her face into his stomach as she speaks, “I don’t think that. I know, I know how much you love me. I just…fear took over. The thought of you not wanting me scared me so much that I acted irrationally. It’s not an excuse and I’m so sorry, H.”
He doesn't respond but YN feel’s his stomach tense and releases quickly, when she pulls back to glance up, she realizes that he’s crying - eyes red rimmed and he’s brushing away tears with his fist.
“Oh, Harry,” YN murmurs in surprise, she’s never seen him cry, and to see it for the first time was startling as he swallowed harshly to try to get himself to stop the onslaught of tears.
“I love you so much,” Harry chokes out as he looks at the wall, embarrassed so he’s not making eye contact, “I…I need to be there for you even if you think I’ll be mad. Nothing is more important to me than keeping you safe, baby. I don’t-“
Harry takes a shuddering breath before he continues, “I can’t live without you. I wouldn’t leave you, m’heart. I need you so much more than you need me.”
“That’s not true,” YN argues quietly as she reaches up to thumb away the falling tears, “It’s the other way around. I need you more than you need me.”
“It’s not,” Harry shakes his head adamantly, “I’ve never loved someone like I love you. Darling, you could wreck every single car I own and I would still worship the ground you walk on. I don’t care about money or cars when I have you. I did before but fuck, I don’t need anything but you. I’d give it all up.”
“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes again because she doesn’t know how she can emphasize how sorry she is, “I’ll never lie like that again. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, I’ve already forgiven you,” Harry tells her as his tears finally come to a halt slowly, “I’m not mad at you but you can’t hide things from me like this ever again or I will be upset. I can’t imagine what you went through yesterday.”
And when Harry goes to kiss her, once again fingers come to her jaw, she flinches back with a whine to get out of his grasp.
“Are you hurt?” Harry demands urgently, eyes widened in concern, “You went and got checked out right?”
YN shakes her head sheepishly, “I felt okay after it happened. Just a bit sore, the airbag hit my chin and the seatbelt hurt me a little.”
She was definitely downplaying it.
“For fucks sake. I can’t believe you. Not getting checked out? Out of your damn mind,” He grunts as he’s gently trying tugging her shirt over her head, the burn was starting to scab and it appeared irritated, pink around the edges, and it looked as painful as it felt, “Baby.”
YN lets him examine the marks, his fingers dancing over her skin lightly, “It’s not bad,” She promises, “I’m just sore and the burn is the only thing that actually hurts bad.”
“We need to go get you checked out,” Harry moves away, beginning to dig through her drawers to find fresh clothes for her to put on, “Just to make sure that you’re okay. I want them to look at that, make sure it's clean and doesn’t get infected.”
YN wants to argue that she’s fine but she knows he’s right and she also wants to do it because she knows that it will calm his nerves as he helps her get dressed to go to the urgent care.
-
Everything was okay. Just like YN had thought, her jawbone was bruised and overall she was achy from the impact but there was no sign of concussion or serious injury.
Harry draws them a bath that night, helping her in as she winces as her body protests, the bath water hitting her chest making her squeak at the sting before getting situated.
“The car will be back next week for you to drive until then you can take my Audi,” Harry tells her as he massages the bottom of her feet, an amused smirk coming onto his face, “The other driver’s insurance only covers twenty-thousand in damages. Mind telling me how you were going to cover thirty five thousand pounds?”
YN pouts, splashing at him a bit, “I was freaked out, I don’t know!” But his fond expression makes her giggle, “I didn’t know what else to say at the moment.”
“I can’t wait until you have my last name, my bank account,” Harry tells her.
YN laughs again, “You know most men would never say that.”
“I can’t wait until you can’t push away my money because it will quite literally be your money too,” Harry smiles cockily as he pulls her a bit closer to move up to her calves.
“You’re too good to me,” YN shakes her head, pointing her toes until they dig into his stomach and make him pinch them in response, making her squirm and him chuckle.
“You’re going to be spoiled for the rest of your life whether you like it or not,” Harry informs her with a raised brow, “Always going to provide for you. M’going to be the best husband.”
“I know you are,” YN leans forward until their chest are pressed together, kissing him and when she tries to adjust so she can straddle his lap, she groans as her bones protest, “I may not be able to pay you back for the car in money but when I’m not as achy…”
“Are you suggesting sexual favors in lieu of money?” Harry questions as he helps her sit back down in a more comfortable position, “What kind of man do you think I am? You think I would accept that trade?”
YN can’t help but nudge his soft length with her foot, teasing.
“You’re a hundred percent right, I would if the favors are coming from you,” Harry agrees as he wraps his hand around her ankle, “I think we have a deal, m’heart.”
( these are just for now; i might add some of the other ships)
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
Backstory: Carl Gallagher is a police officer, and you are studying Psychology with a minor in Sociology at the University of Chicago. You meet at a time in your life where you don't need distractions or a relationship, but the Gallaghers are hurricanes, and Carl changes your world view.
SONG INSPIRATION: Talk– Khalid
includes: one black fem reader! deepening bond with carl gallagher; complicated friendship dynamics; miscommunication & emotional honesty brewing underneath
pt. 1
——————
It had been a few days since our talk, and while things between Michelle and me felt more settled, I could still sense the subtle shifts in the air. It was like we’d patched up a leak, but the roof was still damp. We were talking more, laughing again—but there were still these quiet pauses, these moments where I could feel her looking at me like she was trying to read between the lines.
And maybe she was. Hell, maybe I was, too.
Carl and I hadn’t crossed any romantic lines yet, but the emotional intimacy between us felt… undeniable. I wasn’t sure when things shifted. Maybe it was the way he remembered everything I said—what kind of tea I liked, the playlist I used to study, or how I hated loud chewing sounds when I was stressed. Or maybe it was how he always seemed to sense when I needed a break, showing up with snacks or taking me on spontaneous drives just to get me out of my own head.
We weren’t dating. Not officially. But the feelings were crawling under my skin, and the way I caught him looking at me lately? Like I was the answer to a question he didn’t even know he’d asked?
Yeah. It was getting harder to pretend this wasn’t real.
⸻
It was a Thursday night when he called.
I was curled up in bed, hoodie on, textbooks scattered across the comforter when my phone buzzed.
Carl: “You busy?”
I hesitated, glancing at my color-coded study planner with three different highlighters screaming MIDTERM MONSTER WEEK at me.
Me: “Kinda. Studying. What’s up?”
Carl: “I got off early. Just thought I’d swing by. We could eat and chill? I’ll bring food. You don’t have to talk to me if you’re in the zone. Just wanted to see you.”
The soft flutter in my chest was immediate. Annoyingly so.
Me: “Okay. But only if you bring curly fries.”
Carl: “Done deal.”
⸻
He showed up thirty minutes later, armed with fries, chicken tenders, and a milkshake I didn’t ask for but secretly loved.
“Hey, genius girl,” he grinned as I opened the door.
“Hey, chaos boy,” I replied, biting back a smile as I stepped aside.
He kicked off his boots and followed me to my room like he’d done it a hundred times. Which, at this point, he almost had. It didn’t feel weird anymore. It felt… safe.
We sat on the bed, sharing fries, music playing low from my speaker while he watched me work in silence. Every once in a while, he’d comment on something—ask what a psychology term meant or make a dumb joke that made me roll my eyes and laugh.
And then somewhere between flashcards and curly fries, I realized I was staring.
Carl was leaning back on his elbows, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, the veins in his forearms visible. His jaw flexed slightly as he chewed, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. He looked soft. At ease. Beautiful.
He turned his head and caught me.
“What?” he asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, dropping my eyes back to my notes, but the warmth rising in my face betrayed me.
Carl shifted closer. “Liar.”
“I was just—” I hesitated. “—thinking about stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” he pressed gently.
“Complicated stuff,” I said, closing my notebook slowly. “Stuff I don’t really know how to say out loud.”
His voice dropped, serious now. “Is it about Michelle?”
I shook my head. “It’s about you.”
Carl was quiet. Not tense, not uncomfortable. Just… waiting.
“I like being around you,” I admitted, voice low. “Probably more than I should.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for my hand, the touch feather-light but grounding.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered.
My breath caught.
“I didn’t want to push,” he continued. “Not after everything. I know you’ve got school, your life, Michelle… and I know I can be a lot.”
“You are a lot,” I said with a soft laugh. “But I like that about you.”
His thumb brushed across the back of my hand.
“I don’t want to rush you, Y/N,” he said seriously. “But if you ever want this—want me—I’ll be here.”
I felt everything and nothing all at once. A rush of warmth. A flicker of fear. The quiet certainty that this moment would be etched into me forever.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, not ready to say more, but not ready to pull away either.
And Carl? He didn’t ask me to.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
Meet Y/N, a Psychology student at the University of Chicago trying to balance school, work, and life — and Carl Gallagher, a police officer with a rough exterior and a surprisingly warm heart. When two worlds collide, friendships are tested, feelings grow, and everything changes.
This slow-burn, heartfelt story explores love, friendship, jealousy, and the messy beauty of growing up in a world full of chaos — just like the Gallaghers themselves.
💕Parts :
pt. 1
pt. 2
pt. 3
Content Warnings:
Slow-burn romance
Friendship jealousy and emotional moments
No explicit smut (light romantic moments)
💬
Your patience and feedback are appreciated as I update parts and thank you guys so much for reading and sharing so far💕💕
full masterlist here
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
jo wilson x alex karev newly engaged • sick child • the past comes walking in •
canon divergence • emotional tension • soft resolution
------
The day at Grey Sloan Memorial started like any other—labs ringing, residents rushing, patients waiting. Controlled chaos. But for Jo Wilson and Alex Karev, it was a little different today.
They were engaged.
And even though they didn’t walk around flashing rings or making grand announcements, the glow was there. Subtle. Quietly contagious. Nurses smiled when they passed. Colleagues offered congratulations in passing. Meredith gave Alex a long, knowing look over morning coffee and muttered, “Took you long enough.”
Alex, now a full attending in peds, had Jo on his service for the day. She’d insisted she was fine with it—professional, focused—but there was something sweet in the way her eyes lingered on him a second too long, or how he handed her a chart with the faintest brush of fingers.
They kept it professional. Mostly. But the love between them was unmistakable.
Things got busier when a new patient hit the ER. A little boy with a stubborn fever. His mom brought him in, clearly worried.
Jo was the first to step in—and froze just slightly when she read the intake name.
Olivia.
And her son, Jake.
She recognized the name, but she didn’t say anything at first. Just greeted the mother with her usual calm demeanor.
“I’m Dr. Wilson. I’ll be taking care of your son today.”
Olivia gave a tight smile. “He’s been burning up all night. I just... I know it’s more than a fever. Something’s not right.”
Jo nodded. “Let’s run some tests to be safe, okay?”
A short while later, Jo stood in front of the labs, her stomach sinking. It wasn’t just a virus—Jake needed surgery. She paged Alex, fast. Booked an OR. Her heart beat a little harder than usual.
Alex arrived at the room, flipping through the chart, focused—until he looked up.
Their eyes met.
“Olivia.”
Her expression changed instantly. Worry flickered into recognition. And then, something colder.
“Alex.” Her tone was flat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He nodded, staying professional. “I’m the attending on this case.”
She didn’t say anything else. Just folded her arms as Alex turned to Jake, explaining the procedure gently, clearly. Jo stood beside him, silent, but watching the whole thing unfold with a careful sort of calm.
There was history here. It didn’t take much to feel it.
The surgery went smoothly. Jake did well. Stable, recovering.
Later, when they found a quiet moment—alone in a back hallway, the kind only hospital staff ever really noticed—Alex finally spoke.
“Jo... about Olivia…”
His voice trailed off, like he wasn’t sure what to say next.
Jo touched his arm. “You don’t have to explain, Alex. I know you weren’t always the guy you are now.”
He let out a breath. “Still. She didn’t deserve the way I treated her back then. No one did. I was a mess... And seeing her again just—reminded me.”
Jo’s eyes softened. “You were a mess,” she said, teasing gently, “but you’re not anymore. You’ve done the work. And I love who you are now.”
He leaned into her touch, forehead against hers. “You’re the reason I changed, Jo. You’re it.”
They stayed like that for a beat—quiet, close—until a nurse interrupted.
“Jake’s awake. He’s asking for his mom.”
When they walked into recovery, Olivia was already at Jake’s bedside, brushing his hair off his forehead. She looked up when she saw them.
Her expression was more guarded now, but... softer.
“I heard you two are engaged,” she said, voice measured.
Jo gave a small smile and nodded. “We are.”
Olivia looked between them, then down at Jake. “Well... congratulations.”
Alex nodded. “Thanks.”
There was a pause—tense, but not bitter. Just... real. Olivia met Jo’s gaze, and though there was no warmth in it, there was no venom either.
“I’m glad Jake had you both today,” she said, quietly. “He was in good hands.”
Jo gave a gentle nod. “He’s a strong kid. You should be proud.”
As they left the room, Alex slid his hand into Jo’s. She squeezed back.
No words were needed. They’d stepped into the past and walked out of it together.
And maybe that was what made the future feel even more real.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
jo wilson x alex karev years after alex’s disappearance, jo learns he never reunited with izzie stevens • a search for truth • broken hearts • lost time •
angst • emotional mystery • hurt/comfort
-------
Jo Wilson stood in the trauma room, trying to focus. Her patient was stable, bleeding under control—but her mind wasn’t. It had been years since Alex left. Long enough that the sharpness of the pain had dulled into something quieter, but constant. Like background noise. Like phantom pain.
She and Meredith had become each other’s tether through it. Both abandoned in their own ways. Both still asking questions that had no answers.
Her pager buzzed.
911 — GREY.
Jo's pulse jumped. Meredith rarely used that code unless something was serious. She quickly handed off her patient and made her way to the ER.
As soon as she walked in, she saw Meredith standing with Bailey and Richard near the main doors. But what stopped Jo cold was the woman next to them—tall, blonde, with two kids clinging to her sides.
Jo's stomach dropped.
Izzie Stevens.
She hadn’t seen her in years. Maybe once, in a photo Alex never knew she saw. Now, here she was, in the flesh—and Jo felt everything at once: betrayal, confusion, disbelief.
“Hey, Mer,” Izzie said, her voice tentative.
Meredith hugged her tightly. “Iz… What are you doing here? Where’s Alex?”
Izzie blinked. “I’m here to see him. He’s still here, right? Still in peds?”
Jo’s breath caught.
Meredith pulled back, brows furrowing. “Izzie… he left years ago. To be with you. He was married. He left everything.”
Izzie’s expression changed—brows pinching, lips parting in confusion. “What? No—Meredith, he never came. I thought… I mean, I assumed you all just never forgave him or something. But I haven’t seen him in years.”
Jo stepped closer, barely able to speak through the knot in her chest. “You didn’t know he left me? That he left Seattle?”
Izzie turned toward her slowly. “You must be Jo. Alex told me about you… but I had no idea he walked away from everything.”
Jo stared at her, stunned. “He said he was going to be with you. With your kids.”
Izzie shook her head, her voice breaking. “He’s never met them. I came to Seattle looking for him.”
The room fell silent.
Bailey’s eyes narrowed. “So if he’s not with you… where the hell is he?”
Meredith’s face went pale. “Let’s take this to my office. This—this isn’t adding up.”
In Meredith’s office, Izzie sat across from the group, her kids waiting just outside.
“After I left Seattle, I built a new life,” she explained. “I thought about Alex a lot. But I never reached out. I didn’t want to drag him into anything unless he really wanted it. Then a few months ago, I decided it was time. I wanted the kids to know their dad. But when I couldn’t find him… I came here.”
Jo folded her arms tightly across her chest, holding herself together. “Did he ever write you? Email? Call? Anything?”
“No,” Izzie said, her voice soft. “Nothing. I figured he didn’t want to be found.”
Jo clenched her jaw. Her whole body was humming with questions. With rage. “He left me a letter saying he chose you. That he was finally being the guy you and the kids needed him to be.”
Izzie blinked back tears. “Jo… I swear. He never came. I don’t know where he is.”
Richard exhaled a long sigh. “Then we need to find him. All of us.”
Jo nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “He doesn’t get to disappear. Not again.”
One week later — Twin Pines, Montana.
The cold mountain air hit her face the second Jo stepped out of the car. Meredith was beside her, Izzie behind them, clutching her coat tighter around her. The clinic was small. Quiet. Tucked away at the base of a snow-covered hill.
Jo’s hands trembled.
The receptionist directed them to a room down the hall. Second door on the left.
She paused before it, heart pounding. “Ready?” Meredith asked quietly.
Jo just nodded and knocked.
“Come in,” came a voice. Familiar. Rougher. Older.
Jo pushed the door open.
There he was.
Alex Karev. Sitting behind a desk in faded scrubs. His hair was a little grayer, his eyes a little more tired—but unmistakably him. And when he looked up and saw them—Jo, Meredith, Izzie—he froze.
“Jo?” he said hoarsely. “Mer… Izzie? What—what are you doing here?”
Jo stepped forward, every nerve on fire. “You tell us. Where the hell have you been?”
Alex stood slowly, rubbing his hands over his face. “I… I didn’t think you’d ever come looking for me.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t come with a scalpel,” Bailey muttered under her breath.
Jo didn’t laugh.
Alex exhaled. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to become my father—angry, selfish. I thought… if I stayed, I’d ruin you. I left because I wanted to protect you.”
Jo shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “That’s not your decision to make. You left without a word. Without giving me the choice to fight for us.”
“I know,” he said, voice cracking. “I hated myself for it. Every day.”
Silence. Heavy. Painful.
“I loved you, Alex,” Jo said, her voice trembling. “I waited. I grieved you like you died. But you didn’t die. You ran.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “More than you’ll ever know. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
Jo closed her eyes. Then opened them. “I forgive you. But forgiveness doesn’t mean things go back to how they were. You have to earn it.”
Alex nodded, a flicker of hope in his face. “I will. Whatever it takes.”
And for the first time in a long, long time… Jo let herself hope, too.
That maybe, just maybe, they could start over.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
alex karev x jo wilson long shifts • late nights • jealousy and everything unsaid • slow burn • unresolved tension • pre-relationship angst
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Alex Karev wasn’t the kind of guy who got flustered.
Not by surgeries.
Not by sixteen-hour shifts in the NICU.
And definitely not by interns.
Yet here he was—2 AM, loitering at the nurses’ station—watching Jo Wilson cradle a preemie like it was the highlight of her damn life, and his brain just... short-circuited.
“You’re staring again,” Cristina Yang’s voice cut clean through his fog, sharp as a scalpel. She leaned against the counter beside him, arms crossed, wearing her usual look of unimpressed judgment.
“I’m not staring,” Alex said, a little too fast, whipping his gaze away like a guilty teenager.
Cristina scoffed. “Please. It’s pathetic. You like her.”
“I don’t—” He stopped. No point in lying. Lying to Cristina was like trying to bluff Meredith—useless. If one of them caught on to something, the other wasn’t far behind, and soon the entire hospital would be in on it. “She’s an intern. On my service. It’s nothing.”
“Right,” Cristina said, dragging the word out as she pushed off the counter. “Well, when you’re done pining, some of us have lives to save.” She turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, leaving Alex to glare at the back of her head like it might suddenly take it all back.
Problem was... Cristina wasn’t wrong.
When Meredith moved out to the dream house with Derek and their growing flock of kids, Alex bought her old place. It was cheap, close to the hospital, and haunted by just enough memories to make it feel like less of a dump. Cristina took the spare room—didn’t even ask, just showed up with her crap—and honestly, life without her sarcasm was dull.
They still met up with Mer for drinks, late dinners, sometimes tequila if the day had been hell. And on those nights, it almost felt like things hadn’t changed.
Almost.
Except for Jo.
Jo Wilson had been on his service for a couple months now. NICU nights, assisting him in surgeries, somehow managing to get under his skin in the most infuriating, effortless way.
She wasn’t intimidated by him.
She was sharp. Fast hands. Faster mouth.
She called him on his crap and tossed beers back like one of the guys.
And he hated how much he liked it.
Lately, keeping it together was getting harder.
“You’re in a mood,” Meredith observed one night, lounging in his living room with a beer in hand. Cristina was flipping through a journal on the couch. Alex, brooding in the corner, was nursing his bottle like it had personally offended him.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“Right,” Mer said, lips twitching. “So this has nothing to do with your hot intern?”
“She’s not hot.”
Cristina snorted. “She is. And you’re the human equivalent of a teenage boy with a crush.”
Alex rolled his eyes and leaned back, ready to shoot back something sarcastic—until his phone buzzed. His gut said Jo. She liked to text him random stuff during breaks—cases, memes, the dumbest ER stories.
“Her boyfriend,” he muttered, finishing off his beer in two long swigs. “So no, I’m not in a mood. She’s just... busy now.”
Meredith exchanged a look with Cristina before leaning in.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice was tight. Defensive. Way too defensive.
“Because you like her,” Cristina said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’s annoying. Either do something or stop moping.”
He wanted to argue. But what was the point?
They weren’t wrong.
The next few weeks were... off.
Jo stopped hanging out as much. She was either with Jason or working other services. And even when she was on his service, she still brought her A-game—still sharp, still steady—but something had shifted. She was holding something back.
Or maybe he was.
Cristina and Meredith noticed. Of course they did.
“You’re being an ass,” Jo said one night, scrubbing out after a brutal surgery. Her voice was low but sharp, and he could feel the tension between them.
“I’m not being an ass,” Alex snapped. “You’re just... distracted.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m distracted?”
“You’ve barely been around. And when you are, it’s like your head’s somewhere else.”
It came out too harsh. Too loaded.
Jo laughed—but there wasn’t anything funny about it. “Wow. Sorry if having a life off your service is such a problem.”
He wanted to say it was a problem. That he missed her. That he hated the thought of her smiling at someone else the way she used to smile at him in the NICU.
But instead, he bit his tongue.
Shook his head.
And walked away.
“Smooth,” Cristina commented dryly as they walked home later that night.
“I don’t need your commentary,” he muttered, kicking a loose stone on the sidewalk.
“Well, you’re getting it.” She didn’t even look at him. “Either tell her or don’t. But this jealous bro thing? It’s exhausting.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Cristina stopped walking. Turned to face him. “Alex. You like her. And if you don’t want her to just be your intern, grow a pair and say something.”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.
“And if she doesn’t feel the same?”
Cristina shrugged. “Then at least you’ll know. But we both know she’s not just some intern to you.”
He didn’t respond.
Because, once again...
She was right.
And maybe—maybe—if he didn’t keep screwing it up...
There was still a chance Jo Wilson could be something more.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
alex karev x jo wilson
new relationship • protective best friend • loyalty tested between love and friendship • emotional tension • slow burn, trust and hospital domesticity
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Alex Karev had always been careful with his heart. Guarded. Hardened by years of disappointment and letdowns—especially when it came to love. But when he started dating intern Jo Wilson, something shifted. There was a spark he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jo was kind, smart, fiercely independent. She didn’t just put up with his walls—she saw through them. And he liked that. He liked her.
But not everyone did.
Meredith Grey—his best friend, his person—wasn't exactly thrilled about the new relationship. She’d watched Alex get burned too many times by women who didn’t deserve him, and her protective instincts kicked in fast. She didn’t trust Jo, and honestly, she didn’t try to hide it. That tension boiled over every time the two women were in the same room.
“Why can’t she just give me a chance?” Jo paced the living room, arms folded, voice sharp with frustration. “I’m not like the others. I care about you, Alex.”
“I know,” he said quietly, leaning back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “She’s just… being Meredith. She’s seen me at my worst. She’s looking out for me in her own way.”
Jo scoffed, her jaw clenched. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel like looking out. It feels like she’s waiting for me to screw up.”
Alex didn’t have a rebuttal. Because part of him got it—and part of him hated it. The wedge it was driving between the two women he cared most about was becoming impossible to ignore.
It got to the point where they couldn’t all be in the same place. If Jo was at the apartment, Meredith stayed away. If Meredith wanted to meet up at Joe’s, Jo didn’t come. Every gathering felt like a choice—and Alex was tired of choosing.
So one night, he made a decision.
He invited them both over. No warning. Just asked them to show up.
When they did, the air was tense the moment they walked in. Neither of them looked at the other.
Alex stood in front of them, arms crossed, shoulders tight with the weight of everything unsaid. “Alright,” he said, exhaling hard. “This isn’t working. I can’t keep being in the middle.”
Jo raised an eyebrow. “I’ve tried, Alex. But she always finds a reason to come at me.”
Meredith’s voice cut in, clipped and cool. “I’m just trying to protect him. You haven’t been around long enough to know how many times he’s been screwed over.”
Alex held up a hand. “Enough. Both of you.”
They quieted, if only for a beat.
“I get it, Mer,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You’ve seen the worst of me. You’ve held me together more times than I can count. But Jo’s not like the others. She’s not here to use me or break me. She gives a damn. And I care about her.”
He turned to Meredith, meeting her guarded eyes. “I need you to trust me on that.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Just looked at him with that unreadable expression she wore when her emotions were too loud to name. Finally, she let out a slow breath.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I know,” he said, softer now. “But I’m asking you to give her a shot. For me.”
Jo shifted, biting her lip. “I want us to get along, Meredith. I really do.”
Silence stretched again—until Meredith gave a small, reluctant nod. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try. For you.”
Alex let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank you. Both of you.”
It wasn’t perfect after that. There were still snippy comments, long silences, awkward glances. But slowly, things started to shift. Jo and Meredith found themselves crossing paths more often—at work, at home, in passing moments that built into something resembling mutual respect.
One afternoon, Alex and Meredith sat in the break room, laughing over some dumb memory from their intern year. The easy kind of laughter that only came with years of knowing each other’s trauma and humor.
Jo walked in mid-laugh and paused, a strange ache tugging at her chest. Jealousy, maybe. Or fear. But it was fleeting—because she reminded herself of why she was here. Why she stayed. She wanted this to work. With Alex. With Meredith.
And she was willing to put in the effort.
As the weeks passed, that effort paid off. The tension between Jo and Meredith softened. They started working together without biting heads off. Meredith complimented Jo’s surgical skills. Jo backed her up during rounds. The arguments faded into real conversations, and—eventually—moments of genuine connection.
Alex saw it happening in real time, and every part of him felt lighter.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel caught between love and friendship.
Because he had both. And somehow, he finally felt like he deserved it.
(i don’t own any of these characters except the ones that i create i.e. y/n or reader. please don’t take my work. disclaimer: this is just for now until I start getting into the groove of how to work things on here and also get more comfortable writing about other characters and fandoms and when people start to send in requests and asks😊😊💜💜)
