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"What are you doing?"

Zayn looked up from the sewing machine to glance at her. He was shirtless, his tattoos glowing in the dim light of his large office in which he created his works. Crissle called it a sewing room and Zayn denied all allegations. He wore glasses on his face for aesthetic purposes and the grey sweatpants he wore hung low on his hips.

He cleared his throat and continued to do his work. "Fixing the sewing machine. S'got a jam in it."

"At three in the morning?" Crissle asked, walking into the room and closing the door, "Zayn--"

"I couldn't sleep," he sat down and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked in the machine. He cheered and pulled out a long green thread, coiled and tied up around the gears. "Got it."

Crissle smiled, sitting beside him and watching him continue to sew. The machine started up again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Zayn shrugged, twisting his hands to fit the shape he hemmed in the jacket. "Dunno. Wanna try?"

"No--"

"Come on--"

"What if I mess up?" she said, "then you'll have to make a whole new suit."

"Babe, it's fine--"

"Zayn, no. I'm okay."

"Please?" he pouted, pinching her cheeks and kissing her eyelids, "just try. I'll teach you."

"Fine," she giggled because, really, she couldn't resist him.

"Yay!" he cheered cutely, grabbing Crissle's hips and letting her sit in his lap, "okay, put your hands here and move it just like that -- slow, Cris."

Crissle held the fabric down and slowly followed the line of the jacket to sew them together. She smiled down at her hands, Zayn's on top of hers as he helped guide her in the right direction.

"I...was thinking about my grandma," he whispered solemnly, "and grandad."

Crissle bit her lip, secretly loving the fact he was telling her this.

"She...she was the one who really pushed me to do what I do now. Helped me sew better than my mum did," he continued, "and like, I'm sad now. Ya know she wrote a will?"

"I didn't," Crissle replied, her eyes trained on the hem of the jacket. She didn't realize Zayn let her hands go.

"She left her house in my name," he answered, "her house. Her and granddad's house. For me. What...what am I supposed to do with it?"

Zayn's foot let go of the petal that kept the machine running. Crissle looked ahead of them, resting her hands in his lap.

"I wanted to give it to my sister Doniya, but...she's doing pretty well for herself and I feel like...my grandma just wanted me, not her own son. Me. I should keep the house for me, yeah?"

"Yeah," she looked down, "are you going back to England to live--"

"No, no, no, baby," he chanted, "I never wanted to live in England. It's better for me over here. Plus, I have you."

Crissle smiled, looking behind her to watch his face. "Really? You'd stay just for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, "most definitely," he chuckled when Crissle abruptly turned away and giggled, "your hair is all over the place."

"I know!" she exclaimed, "I haven't been taking care of it lately and she's mad at me," she pat her hair down, "do you have a hair tie?"

"No need, I like this," he kissed the back of her neck softly, his hands holding her hips in place. Crissle turned around fully and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Really?" some hair fell in her face and Zayn tried to tuck it away. They both laughed when her curls came back to cover her eyes.

"Mhm," he hummed, kissing her bottom lip, "you know you're absolutely gorgeous? In every way possible?"

"Thank you," she stared at his eye freckle and grinned. Zayn licked his bottom lip and puckered his lips, holding her head close as they kissed. Finally. Zayn's free hand traveled up her -- his -- shirt, stopping at the the small of her back. His tongue glided along hers and low moans rose in his throat. Crissle's hands were in his hair, pulling and tugging as the kisses got sloppier and heavier with every shared breath.

She giggled when Zayn tickled her side, her body jerking away from his touch. He cut the desk light off and got up, startling his girlfriend. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he supported her weight by holding her backside firmly in his expansive hands. The door opened and Zayn walked down the hallway, moaning as Crissle kissed his neck seductively. Her teeth grazed his skin every now and then.

They entered his room and he kicked the door closed. Zayn fell back on the bed, she felt his breath become shallow as she kept kissing him.

"Are you...are you off--"

"Yes," she sat up, looking at his skeptical face.

"You said that the other day and lied straight to my face," he laughed, "so horny it was ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes, taking her shirt off and swinging it above her like a lasso. Zayn chuckled, snatching the shirt away and pulling her closer to him.

Crissle finally got what she wanted, him. Him, and him only. It'd been too long without him, although that was mostly his fault. They were good now, and finally making up was what she craved most, especially after her time of the month. She was ridiculous and dramatic, but the way Zayn touched her now only led her to believe it was all for a good cause.

He was going to be better at the whole relationship thing, and she was going to correct him if he messed up. It was only fair.

Crissle moaned at the friction they caused, their bodies becoming one and the feeling of Zayn inside of her making her thank God for the gifts He bestowed upon him. He was so beautiful in the moment, his eyes closed and his muscles constricting with every movement. He was waiting for this too, waiting for their love to reconnect after such a long time of sexual tension and a mistake he made.

His eyelashes kissed her cheeks and his lips reached hers. Giggles and more kisses ensued and Crissle closed her eyes in pure pleasure and bliss.

They were back and more beautiful than ever.

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I'm ugly

I couldn't tell you if this was a filler but they all low key feel like that, so.

I've read some really really food books over these past few days and I know how you guys feel when you want people to update.

however, you pleading doesn't help, so bye :)