stomach empty

Andre Burakovsky- homemade chicken noodle soup

Request:  could you do a imagine that you are andre burakovsky girlfriend and you’re sick and he take take care of you?

Author’s note: This one hit a little too close to home since I’ve been sick for two days now lol. Why can’t I have a beautiful boy take care of me???

Warnings:

Up next: Brady Skjei

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One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ - #77 - "Call me if you need anything." -RobStar

Disclaimer: I don’t own Teen Titans. Not making a profit

“You have made it okay, yes?”

Richard chuckled, leaning against the small kitchen counter of the studio apartment. “Yea. I just finished unloading my furniture.”

He could all most see her nodding her head in approval. “You have gone shopping for the food? I hope you won’t be going out tonight, especially if you have the empty stomach, and-”

“Kori,” He stopped her, adjusting the phone on his ear. “I’m gonna walk to get some Chinese for dinner, and I won’t start patrols until next week. I wanna get the apartment settled, get to know Bludhaven a little better, work on my civilian life…” He trailed off.

“I apologize.” She spoke sheepishly. “I am worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“I feel as though I must.” She admitted. “No one is there to remind you to do the resting, to do the slowing down, to not have the obsessions, to make sure you-” Kori spoke sighing sadly.

“I can take care of myself, Kori.” He smiled, stopping her rant

“I know, but can you,” Kori paused, chewing on her bottom lip. “Call me if you are needing anything?”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

He chuckled, looking around his new home. “Promise.”

4 hours of sleep, the rain that was making me feel calm is now giving me anxiety, realized i lost my favorite blue nalgene bottle yesterday at the park, sunburned, too sexually traumatized to work, cried because there is no food in the fridge, having the worst flare-up in my right hip and shoulder but i can’t even get out of bed to put myself into the bathtub, can i take ibuprofen on an empty stomach? do i actually want to have an empty stomach and i’m upset because the possibility of food isn’t there? should i take a day off of diazepam? do i want to be alone or do i need to be with somebody? i just took diazepam

sgt-trashgoddess  asked:

A is an early bird and B always sleeps in until lunchtime. A likes to listen to B's empty stomach as they sleep. The hollow growling from B's belly becomes progressively louder and longer as they sleep through breakfast. And by the time noon rolls along and B wakes up, their tummy won't stop gurgling and A is happily listening to it grumble. B sees how much A is enjoying their noisy gut and allows them to keep listening for a while longer. But soon B is whining and rubbing their tummy, (cont.)

OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS

shakespeare aesthetics

romeo and juliet: suburban july. scraped knees, bruised knuckles, blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in a breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress, a t-shirt you cut up yourself, the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friend’s house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip-flops. a eulogy written on looseleaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet: speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins, books with cracked spines, books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. a big black t-shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil under your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night: wicker deck furniture. new england summer. big dark sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean, patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. chlorine smell. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love, love for the idea of love, love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar, a crab fisherman with tattoos, a pretty boy with a slackened tie. a light house. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. finger guns. big floppy sun hats. double-speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drunk on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for, hope you weren’t expecting, pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. pool noodles. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth: the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat, the stillness after battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. a sulfur smell. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path, an owl that watches you, a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke. dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now. 

much ado about nothing: the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck, military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch, a pitcher of iced tea. barbecue. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. indian summer. ill-timed proclamations. stomach-clutching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen, a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog-eared rhyming dictionary. camomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you have a home until you’re there. 

king lear: cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lightning, a too-big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red-black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of skeletal houses. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes, shutting up, holding your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods, wondering if the gods are listening, wondering if the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream: wet soil/dead leaves smell. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill somebody slipped you. fear that turns to excitement, excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hollow in an old tree. glow-in-the-dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

Liability (Part 1)

A/N: FINALLY posting something. This is based off a recent even that happened in my life and I kinda needed to write it all down…let me know what you think! Especially since I haven’t written in forever! 

Dean x Reader, Sam, Jody, Claire

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

The two of you had avoided each other for weeks.

What went from hurtful words spewed at you in the heat of the moment, to you needing time, which then eventually led to the art of stonewalling that the two of you perfected in. And now here you were with this awful knot in your throat, your mind curled in on itself, two hands firmly holding the steering wheel, driving in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. You couldn’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about in the first place, but the overwhelming sense of not being of any use to him, of being an inconvenience, a liability, was enough to have you putting as much distance as you possibly could from Lebanon, Kansas.

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“How ‘bout, Muffin?”

A/N: howdy! this one was requested ((ty you so much for this request honestly!! pls send in more if you have any!!) and I hope I brought your idea to life. I added a bit of a backstory to add some fluff but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out so idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

request: “Can you do a Bucky imagine where the reader has superpowers and she accidentally breaks Bucky’s metal arm by her powers or they have super strength and accidentally slammed his arm in a door or something like that. And reader feels super bad and sits with Bucky has Tony fixes his arm and the reader won’t stop apologizing and it ends in fluff”

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight angst idk – more like banter?? Two implied swear words. One swear word. Bit of second hand embarrassment and rejection

word count: 5.8k (wowza, idk is it better to do longer imagines or short and snappy ones??  lemme know pls)

masterlist

Originally posted by minmiin1d

Sluggishly, you dragged your slipper clad feet across the floor, slapping a hand over your mouth as you yawned loudly. You felt the comforter from your bed trailing behind you as you held it around your body, resembling a makeshift cape. You were sure you looked like a mess; you could feel your hair falling messily out of the bun you had strategically placed it in last night, your pyjama top slipping off your shoulders and you were certain that there were prominent bags lining your eyes. Smiling lazily, you mumbled a small “good morning” to Steve and Natasha who were fumbling in the kitchen preparing their breakfast. They returned your greeting, both however, seemingly much more awake than you were. Not bothering to suppress your sigh, you nudged Steve with your shoulder as you walked past. 

“Remind me again: why the hell do we need to wake up at an ungodly hour to practice punching each other?” You groggily mumble, your voice laced with sleep, narrowing your eyes when Steve laughed at you. 

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His || Jungkook || 0.18

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 | 0.18

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10 day back to school challenge

hey guys!! last year around this time I made a back to school photo challenge, so this year I thought I’d create a back to school action challenge to help you prepare for the school year! If you’re following along, you can post pictures or updates to the tag #universi-tea challenge

  1. Make a list of school supplies you’ll need for the year
    Try not to buy more than you need!
  2. Write down goals for the semester
    Keep them somewhere you’ll see them often, and be specific!
  3. Organize and clean your room
    So you’ll have a fresh start!
  4. Start preparing for your favorite class!
    Or your hardest.
  5. Buy your supplies for the year!
    Don’t forget your list!
  6. Create a morning routine
    To make waking up early a little less rough.
  7. Make a list of yummy breakfast, lunch, and snack recipes
    You can’t study on an empty stomach.
  8. Create a color coding system for your classes
    Try to match it with your supplies to stay organized!
  9. Clean out your backpack
    If it’s anything like mine, it needs it. 
  10. Enjoy your last little bit of break!
    Hang out with your friends, go to the pool, and sleep late one last time.

Feel free to do them at your own pace and in whatever order works best for you. Keep an eye out for more posts in my back to school series, and enjoy the rest of your summer!

BTS Reacts: I Love You

Request: hi! i was wondering if you could do a bts reaction maybe?🙈 to their s/o hugging them from behind and whispering “i love you” with their head on his back/shoulder (it depends😹) -this is so soft😭- thank you!

Originally posted by fuckindestruction

Warning: Mentions of pregnancy

A/N: Kongnamul is Korean for “Bean Sprout”. Kongnamulguk is Korean for “Bean Sprout Soup”.

Seokjin (Jin)

You held tightly at the hem of Seokjin’s oversized tan hoodie, scrunching your nose at the tears stinging your eyes. This is stupid, you thought. It’s only going to be a month. We’ve done longer distances than this. You exhaled a sigh. Must be the pregnancy hormones.

You idly rubbed your tummy, baby bump barely noticeable, but to you, it felt like you were carrying the world. Your world. The moment you and Seokjin had waited years for, for what felt like the right time to start your family. A small smile spread across your lips, despite the still lingering tears.

Seokjin smiled politely and handed over his passport. He turned towards you, a protective arm slipping around your shoulders. “What’s the matter, Jagiya?”

You looked up to him through long lashes and pouted. “I don’t like it,” you murmered. A sad smile spread across his plump lips. “I know, Jagi.” He lifted your chin with a slim finger and you found nothing but happiness resting in his eyes. “It will only be a month. I’ll FaceTime you and little kongnamul every night, okay?”.

A giggle escaped your closed lips and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the nickname. The doctor had called you with the news while you were both out to dinner and you happened to be eating kongnamulguk, and the name just seemed to stick.

Seokjin turned away to receive his passport, thanking the woman at the desk and bowing slightly. Happiness flooded through you, staring up at him, and you were sure of nothing more in the world that this was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your days with. You snaked your arms around his slim waist and nuzzled your cheek into the back of his broad shoulders.

“I love you,” you breathed. You could feel heat burning in your cheeks and tears stinging your eyes again. You quickly wiped them away, pulling away from Seokjin’s tall frame.

He smiled shyly, a hand coming up to cover his smile. “Aish, you’re cute, (Y/N). Can’t you just stay pregnant forever if you keep acting this cute?”.

Originally posted by agustdefsoul

Yoongi (Suga)

You stretched the muscles of your neck from side to side, setting down your pen on your World Culture text book. You looked behind you from your place on Yoongi’s studio couch, sprawled out on your stomach, to Yoongi who was working diligently away on his computer. You eyes followed his side profile, from his pinched eyebrows in concentration, to the downturn of his lips, muttering something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch.

You bit your lip and glanced down to his work space, littered with his small, black leather notebook, a couple of pencils and erasers and sticky notes. You closed your text book, and adjusted your shorts, before exiting the room.

Yoongi shifted in his seat, looking back to where you had just lay, before adjusting his headphones and returning his attention to the screen.

You returned moments later, a napkin, a bottle of water and one of Yoongi’s favorite cold bottled coffees in both hands. You came up behind him, his eyes still fervently searching the screen for the solution to some unseen problem. You leaned down and gently blew at the exposed skin of the nape of his neck, smiling when little mountains of goosebumps rose to the surface.

You reached over his shoulders and placed down the napkin on his work space, setting the cold, coffee on top and the water bottle next to it. You watched as a small, appreciative smile came to life, and couldn’t help but return it. You slid the palms of your hands from the tops of his shoulders down the hills of his chest to rest lightly on his toned stomach.

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear. You watched as the small smile turned gummy, and he looked down, the blush creeping up his neck barely noticeable in the dim light

“I love you, too,” he chuckled, the low timber of his unused voice sending butterflies soaring in your chest.

Originally posted by hobipd

Hoseok (J-Hope)

You bobbed your head to the resounding base, idly scrolling through social media on your phone. You sat, perched on one of the blue dance mats, ignoring the dull ache in the base of your spine for easy companionship with Hoseok as he perfected a dance for another episode of Hope on the Street. You set your phone beside you and watched Hoseok carefully, from his controlled facial expressions, to the way his body naturally seemed to pop and lock into place where he so chose. You admired the way he could move his body so effortlessly, every carved out muscle under his control.

The song started over, and Hoseok raised both arms wide in the air, thoroughly stretching the muscles there. He made his way over to the mat you were sitting on and collapsed beside you, hair matting to his forehead, shirt sticking to him.

You scrunched your nose and smiled at him. “You stink,” you laughed. Hoseok smiled widely, an almost embarrassed laugh falling out. He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a deep breath, keeping his lips pursed for a second longer.

“Come, on.” Hoseok groaned, and made to stand up, muscles protesting against the action. “I think if I practice anymore, I’ll collapse.”

You took his outstretched hand and absently rubbed at your aching butt, as he pulled you up to your feet. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” you sighed. You watched as Hoseok began to pick up his things, aimlessly throwing them in the direction of his backpack in the corner of the room.

As he bent down to pick up his empty water bottle, you snaked your arms around his waist and rested your chin in between his shoulder blades, pushing most of your weight onto his back. “I love you,” you sighed, making him halt mid reach for his water bottle. You both stayed like that for few seconds longer, until you finished. “I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

Hoseok turned, still in your arms, and rested both hands on your hips. He nuzzled his head into the soft crook of your neck and sighed. “I know, Jagi.”


Originally posted by aceyng

Namjoon (Rap Monster)

Namjoon typed away at his laptop, sitting precariously on top of a pillow on his lap, bottom lip worrying between his teeth. His glasses sliding slowly off his face as he looked down at the screen, you couldn’t help the adoration that flowed through your veins.

You abandoned your place beside him on the couch and made your way into the small kitchen to see about starting dinner. You rifled through your cabinets, a dismal look pinching your brow together. “Take out it is, then,” you sighed.

You made your way back into the living room, your eyes easily finding Namjoon, eyes now tracing lines in a black notebook, glasses hanging on to just the tip of his nose. You walked over to the back of the couch behind him, and rested your hands on his tense shoulders.

“Namjoon-ah,” you called softly. You received a grunt in response, clearly absorbed in his work. It wasn’t like you to bother him while working, but from the lack of movement from both of you in the last couple of hours, you were sure he hadn’t eaten properly.

You leaned down and placed your lips gently against his ear. “Look at me,” you breathed. You watched in delight as the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as he licked his lips and gazed at you.

You straightened up and smiled at him. “Good. Now that I have your attention.” You crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head. “You haven’t eaten much today,” you accused.

Noona, I’m fine,” he rolled his head on the back of the couch and sighed.

You fixed his glasses to fit properly on his face and leaned back down to meet your lips with his. The kiss was slow, passionate, filled with every emotion you  could imagine and all the time in the world to express them. You slid your hands down his shoulders to rest on his chest and broke the kiss, gazing at him. ”I love you, and the man I love will not work on an empty stomach.”

A low chuckled filled his lungs as he lifted head and closed his notebook. “Fine,” he whined, exaggerating the word as he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered “How do you always know how to get what you want?”

Originally posted by kookies-for-taehyung

Taehyung (V)

“Taehyung!” you exclaimed without any honorifics. “I thought you were gonna let me win!” You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair in a huff.

“Watch it, little girl,” he warned, but the threat was lost in the laugh that escaped his throat. You giggled at his attempt to be threatening, his boxy smile filling his face.

“Besides,” he continued. “How can I let you win, if you cant hit anything even with the gaurds up?” he teased.

You laughed, hand coming up to cover your mouth shyly. “I am pretty bad at this, huh?” you admitted. You looked up at the score board, your scores pitifully drastic.

Taehyung smiled at you lovingly, and you couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks. You stood up and quickly crossed the distance between you two, holding your arms out to embrace him. He took you in his arms easily and you let the comforting scent of his cologne fill your nose.

“I love you,” you whispered into his chest. You felt rather than saw the chuckle that escaped his lips. He pulled you in tighter, squeezing you gently. “I love you, (Y/N).”

Originally posted by jiminiediary

Jimin

You waited patiently in line at the local coffee shop, fingers playing with the hem of your sweater to keep them from reaching out to touch Jimin. Standing only a couple feet away, you were still able to smell the faint scent of his cologne, something heady and earthy, like home.

You admired his side profile, although obscured by the black face mask and glasses he was adorning, you could recount every line and curve of his nose and lips. You smiled to yourself, thinking back to last night when your frames were so intertwined with each other, a thin layer of sweat covering the hills of your bodies, as he laced his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand idly as you sleepily tried to keep up with the conversation.

“(Y/N)?” the sweet sound of Jimin’s voice filled your ears, as he called out to you. You snapped your focus back to the man in front of you, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. “What would you like?”

Coffee. That’s right, you thought, bringing your attention to the present. You ordered your usual, and thanked Jimin quietly while he paid, eyes focused on his unoccupied hand and how you wanted to reach out and entangle his fingers with yours, to feel the smooth skin of his hands from meticulous care. Your self control wavered.

You both thanked the cashier and made your way to the other end of the bar, waiting for your coffee. Partially obscured by the height of the bar, you took his hand in both of yours and rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand. You knew PDA made him a little uncomfortable, but you hoped this small act was okay.

“Jimin-ah,” You looked up at him through long lashes and bit your plump bottom lip. “I love you,” you breathed.

Jimin’ s eyes crinkled and you knew he was smiling widely. A soft chuckle filled your ears as he pulled his mask down to rest at the base of his chin. “And I love you, (Y/N).”


Originally posted by jinkooks

Jungguk (Jungkook)

You sighed loudly, more loudly than was necessary, really, but you didn’t care. Jungguk had been staring at a screen for the last four hours and you were bored to tears. You had exhausted every form of social media you had, now resorting to just googling funny pictures.

You tossed your phone behind the couch, when just the sight of the lit up screen started to make you a bit cross eyed. You sat up cross-legged in the middle of the couch, eyeing the back of Jungguk’s head. He was in need of a haircut, the small hairs on the nape of his neck growing out, messing up the look of his undercut. Your fingers itched to run through his soft locks, but pushed down the urge.

You rested your head on the back of the couch and held tightly the pillow in your arms. You sighed loudly again, hoping Jungguk would take notice, but he only swore loudly at the T.V screen, fists tightening around the controller in his hands. You scrunched your nose in frustration and licked your lips.

Your eyes fell on the extra couch pillow at the end of sofa, and you quickly glanced back to Jungguk. You smiled and bit your lip, quickly snatching it by your side. You waited patiently until you considered he was at a good stopping point before you initiated your attack, both couch pillows hitting him square in the back of the head.

Jungguk flinched, immediately pausing the game and turned around, an accusatory glare aimed in your direction. A smile broke out on your face, biting your lip again to control the nerves that were suddenly pouring through you. You watched as the beginnings of a bunny-toothed smile appeared on his lips, and you poised yourself to run like a madman through the house, hoping he would take the bait and chase you.

Your legs sprung out from under you as you attempted to jump over the side of the couch, but Jungguk somehow was able to cross the five foot gap between you two and grab hold of your ankle, gently but firmly pulling you back down to the couch and sliding you towards him. You landed with an oof and felt the couch give to the weight of him, as he flipped you over onto your back, his body hovering over yours.

Your breath caught, and you tried to swallow, your throat too dry. You caught a glimpse of mischief in his doe-like eyes and immediately struggled to get away from him, hands trying fruitlessly to push his face away.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered, words garbled from the weight of your hands pushing his cheek away. Jungguk pulled your hands away easily with one of his, the other releasing a vicious tickle ambush on your side and under your arms.

You laughed loudly, unable to control your wide smile. “NO. No, pleas- I’m sorry, OKAY?” you tried, your laughter making it hard to speak.

Jungguk laughed, bunny teeth cutely poking through, and rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I love you.” The words pushed through your lips before you could hold them back. You watched, wide-eyed, as every emotion was easily recognized in Jungguk’s expressive orbs. You watched his lips part, as he searched your face for something you weren’t quite sure of. A slight blush appeared across his cheeks, finding the answer in your eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungguk breathed, burrowing his nose in the crook of your neck. “I…I love you, too.”

anonymous asked:

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

In which Harry is beyond patient with your drunken antics.


Harry holds you close to him, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You’re riding back home from the pub, where you had a few drinks too many. The room started to spin around you and your friends’ names evaded your memory, and Harry knew that was the end of the night.

“Yeh all righ’, love? Don’ fall asleep jus’ yet.”

“I feel awful,” you tell him, burying your face in his shirt to inhale the comforting scent of him.

“Told yeh t’ stop three drinks ago,” he reminds you, chuckling into your hair.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

The car stops at your shared place and Harry pulls you away from him so he can get out, helping you after him. He thanks the driver and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, holding you to his side while he unlocks the door. You’ve barely made it inside when you feel your stomach churning. You push away from Harry and your feet carry you to the bathroom, where you drop to your knees and lift the toilet seat. You don’t throw up immediately, but the discomfort in your stomach only gets worse.

“Y/N?” Harry appears in the doorway with a crease between his eyebrows. “Did yeh get sick, baby?”

“No, but I’m gonna.” You clutch the rim of the toilet and squeeze your eyes closed while a wave of nausea passes through your body. Harry pulls a hair tie from his wrist—a habit he still hasn’t broken since he cut his hair—and kneels down beside you, gathering up your locks and tying them back. Then his hands brush down your neck and rub gently over your back.

There’s a silent minute before you actually start to throw up. Harry keeps rubbing your back, whispering how you’re okay, everything’s okay.

“No, it’s not,” you say when you can catch a breath. Your throat burns, your mouth tastes terrible, and your stomach is churning. “I’m gonna die. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” he informs you with a soft laugh. “You’re fine, baby. You’ll feel better in a li'l bit.”

You groan in response before leaning back over the toilet to empty your stomach. And he’s right, you do feel better after a few minutes when your body’s rejected the extra alcohol.

“Yeh done, love?”

“I think so.” Your voice is raw, and you can still feel alcohol pumping its way through your veins.

“’M gonna go change. Can yeh handle brushing your teeth? Please, don’ make me brush your teeth fo’ yeh.”

“I can do it,” you state confidently. Harry smiles as he rises to his feet. He holds his hands out and helps you up, flushing away your mess. Your toothbrush is ready and in your hand before he leaves the room. When you look in the mirror, you find a mess of a person. Tears have streaked makeup down your cheeks and your clothes are in disarray. Your vision is slightly blurry as you begin to clean your teeth.

“Is tha’ better?” Harry asks as he reappears in a pair of comfy sweats.

“My throat still hurts,” you tell him, rinsing out your mouth.

“I’ll get yeh some water,” he says, backing out of the room. “Wait in the bedroom fo’ me, love.”

You do as your told, making your way into the other room to plop yourself down on the bed. You feel a bit loopy, and your limbs feel heavy. You’re just staring at a wall that seems to dip and swim in front of you when Harry walks in with a big glass of water.

“Drink some o’ this,” he orders gently as he hands it to you. You sip at the cold liquid and it soothes your burning throat. “Let’s get yeh ready fo’ bed. I’m gonna take care o’ yeh, okay?”

You nod in response and Harry drops to his knees, undoing your heeled boots and pulling them from your aching feet. His fingers reach for the button of your jeans and you shift away from his touch as he skims your belly.

“Don’t tickle me!”

“’M not tryin’ t’ tickle yeh!” he exclaims with a laugh. “’M tryin’ t’ get your pants off. Don’ spill your drink, yeah?”

“It’s not very gentlemanly to take off my pants when I’m this drunk,” you inform him, taking another gulp of water.

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind,” he says with a playful roll of his eyes. He reaches forward again to unbutton your pants and a slosh of water spills down your front as you giggle. “Oi! Be careful.” He takes the glass from you to set down on the bedside table and wipes his now-wet hands on his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” you mumble, flopping back on the mattress. Harry chuckles and is finally able to undo your jeans, tugging the denim down your legs. His ringed fingers pat your hands.

“Gotta sit up fo’ me, love.” He pulls you back into a sitting position and lifts your shirt from your body, then unclasps your bra and tosses all of your clothes into the dirty laundry. He opens the dresser and digs around for one of his t-shirts, finding one that he hasn’t worn in years.

“Arms up,” he urges when he comes back, helping you into the shirt one limb at a time. He presses a gently kiss to your forehead when your face pops out again and smiles. “Wanna get your makeup off?”

“Yes,” you agree, nodding quickly. “I look like a clown.”

“Yeh do not.” He chuckles and finds one of your makeup wipes, coming back to squat in front of you. “Look pretty still. Yeh always do.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse with a big grin.

“Am not,” he retorts, grinning back and resting a hand on your cheek to hold your head still as he gently wipes stray mascara from your face. “Prettiest girl ’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up,” you hush with a giggle.

Harry laughs at you again as he finishes cleaning up your face.

“Tha’s better,” he commends, standing back up and pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Don’ look like yeh been cryin’ anymore. How ‘bout yeh finish your water b'fore we go to bed?”

You nod and pick up the glass again, sipping slowly. Harry leaves to brush his teeth. When he comes back, he takes the empty glass from you and sets it down again. He lifts the covers to get you into bed and then climbs in beside you, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you against him.

“Better not be cranky a’ me t'morrow,” he whispers, kissing your cheek gently.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” you whisper back, snuggling into him.