#I always want a label on things please help... How am I supposed to talk about you?

[mrfoox]

Me: it's okay to not identify something, it's okay not to put a label on things, let them just be

My autism: -chewing own hands off-

[laithraihan]

now i’m kinda curious to hear what you think of proshipping.. if you don’t mind of course

I'll share my thoughts, and if theres anything I say that doesnt make sense feel free to point it out to me because I mostly write with the help of a translator. Under the cut because I wrote too much stuff.

TLDR: proshippers hate me because I dont want to look at glorified depictions of pedophilia/incest/etc, antis hate me because my content isnt 100% sanitized. I stay around anti circles because I find it slightly easier for me to talk about my headcanons with them even though I think they can be insufferable.

So the thing about proshipping. From what I've seen it means being "anti-harassment" and being in support of curating your online experience, which sounds great on paper and that's practically what I do. I have over 3k accounts blocked on my personal twitter to navigate the website more easily and I also dont care if someone blocks me if they dont like my stuff.

Except proshippers never consider me a proshipper because I am uncomfortable with viewing glorified depictions of topics like pedophilia, incest, rape, all that stuff. The same way people are uncomfortable with excessive blood and gore (which I also can't really handle seeing). Whether or not it's always easy to tell if it's glorified is an entirely different topic, which is precisely why I stay away from all depictions in general to avoid being intrusive.

And what's interesting is that I do not label myself an "anti". Mainly because I don't even know what the term "anti" is supposed to mean ("anti-" what exactly. Genuinely please tell me because I actually dont know) But the ones who label themselves "proship" always call me an anti, because again I do not wish to engage with content related to pedophilia etc, and that alone apparently enough to be considered "a person who harasses others over fiction" even if I mind my own business and have no interest in forcing my personal tastes on others, especially if they make it clear that they wont change their mind. Which makes me believe that for a lot of self-identified proshippers, the definition of being "proship" would be more similar to "I love fucked up stuff and if you dont then youre lame and it obviously means you can't tell the difference between fiction and reality" which honestly seems like insecurity to me.

Forgive me for bringing up this up once again but I want to mention an example to make it easier for me to explain: yknow the whole thing with me drawing Minori and Reigen and labelling it "non-cp" which caused a wave of both self-identified antis and proshippers harassing me over that (I'll say that proshippers were more bold about it since the antis harassing me were all anonymous). Proshippers saw me saying "I dont ship that" and interpreted it as me being defensive and in denial, as if I said "guys I swear Im an anti !!! please dont think im a proshipper !!! ", when I meant "I dont want to discuss this with others in a shipping manner because thats not how I see it and I dont want to enter a space Im not comfortable with"

I admit I responded to this situation in a petty manner, but this was after several days of harassment done directly in my inbox and publicly (sometimes I wish yall remembered that group chats and priv accounts exist). My point is that simply saying you don't like seeing pedophilia in fiction is enough for proshippers to believe it's justified for them to harass you over it (and I'm fully aware they'll say it's not harassment, only when antis and "puriteens" do this to them then it's harassment)

Now about the anti side. Don't get me started on them either. If proshippers see me as an enemy then this must mean that I always get along with the ones who call themselves "antis" (I do not). Note that Im only talking about adults here, I dislike beefing with children and I think their feelings about this are entirely reasonable (I'll elaborate on this when talking about internet safety)

But anyways. I think a lot of adults are discourse-brained and do way too much. Im thinking of nonsense like "this ship is problematic because they are 'sibling-coded' so thats basically incest" "siblings giving each other a hug gives me proship vibes" things of that nature. And you're not allowed to do anything that even has the smallest possibility of being interpreted as "problematic", because then they'll harass you for it, and if you clarify your intentions, they expect you to apologize for "misleading" them because clearly they didnt do anything wrong by making assumptions about you.

There's almost no room allowed for creativity with them, everyone has to follow fanon because they consider it canon, if you ever want to try something other than the same boring domestic fluff then it's "too much" (and not even platonic affection is acceptable to draw in certain cases). Which is incredibly fucking boring to me who wants to see different types of content. People even said I was enjoying incest for drawing Reigen selfcest, and that I was "making others uncomfortable" by drawing it. Genuinely seems to me that they only care about moral superiority, that they never think about anything in depth, and I dont think they realize that it also shows in what they create: boring and repeated fanart and headcanons where the only thing you can say about it is "thats cute", nothing more because you saw it ten billion times already. You cant draw two people showing platonic affection that absolutely nobody would bat an eye if it happened in real life, you cant discuss something specific in more depth without people saying you have a fetish for it, and then they'll harass you based on their speculation that it's a fetish. I dont think many realize this, but fandoms are full of autistic people, so it's normal to see people who are interested in very specific things that dont make sense to others! I wish people were less judgmental, but at the same time I dont care if people think Im weird. I think what I mean is theres no reason to mistreat weird people who do no harm to others.

So yeah if you call yourself an "anti" I'll assume youre spend too much time engaging in fandom discourse and you're the type of person to believe that fanart where two people are holding hands is the equivalent to drawing them fucking each other. Which I think is a very childish mindset to have and it's worrying that many adults think this way. I also think that as an adult they should be capable of blocking stuff they hate instead of constantly arguing with people online because at this point it's just mental torture.

The thing about internet safety I mentioned earlier, I'd say this is the one thing that I'll always prioritize discussing whenever proship discourse comes up.... To put it simply: filter and limit the visibility of your content, do not put triggering stuff in the main tags, stay in your own circles. Whether or not you believe fictional rape/pedophilia/etc is bad is irrelevant, my point is that these are objectively triggering topics and should be filtered just like how there are warnings for violence and blood even if it's not real.

"But it's the parents' responsibility to control what kids look at online, this has nothing to do with me!" and I agree with the parents being the ones Primarily responsible. However the reality is that children are online and there's nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Kids will also enter spaces theyre not allowed in, theyre children and children are rebellious especially teenagers, I was like this as a teenager too. You'd be lying if you said you were always obedient since childhood and never did anything you were told Not to do. And you can't really expect teenagers to always block and not interact if they see something triggering. It's your responsibility to block them if they interact with you, because what I see most of the time is adults bickering with teenagers who are uncomfortable, calling them "puriteens", putting them on blast and allowing other adults including NSFW accounts to dunk on them.

Humiliating and degrading teenagers does not "teach them a lesson", it only makes the teenager more stubborn and reactive. Adults must accept that kids will always find their way in there even if your content isnt easily accessible. So I think it's stupid to feel offended at a child because they got upset when they found upsetting content like how any normal child would react. Which is why I wish more adults would keep blocking without saying anything petty to provoke teenagers.

Before someone pancake-waffles me and says "so youre fine with antis doxxing people" no I do not support doxxing. Ive been doxxed so I know it sucks. However the only times Ive seen it go this far is after continuous arguing because nobody knows when to stop. Im not saying this applies all the time nor am I saying doxxing is fine, but there are ways to minimize this sort of outcome as much as possible. Both sides have doxxed people over petty arguments that couldve easily been avoided if they just blocked each other and moved on.

The topic above (internet safety) is probably the only thing related to this where Im actively telling others what they should be doing. It's not only teenagers who are triggered by depictions of pedophilia etc but also adults like myself. In my case Im old enough to block content I dislike without saying a word, however I cant help but think that there's not enough being done about filtering especially when I do not search for this type of content and I still see it all the time.

I also think it's important for me to mention that I have a very poor sense of morality. I do not have a personal moral code that I adhere to, and I mostly stick to the basic universal ones that make sense to me. So I will not discuss the "morals" of consuming this stuff because I am not adequate to share an opinion on this, and I know the most popular topic of discussion related to proship discourse is morality which I frankly find counterproductive. I dont understand why people should care so much if I find something morally correct or not, unless it's to make themselves feel better about having a "superior opinion" to mine. Though I will say that if a man tells me he's into rape "but only in fiction!" then I dont think it will stop me of imagining myself bashing his skull repeatedly with large rocks. Maybe Im too mistrustful of men in general.

Final point I want to clarify is that I am not trying to assert some sort of superiority over people by disliking both sides, like saying "Im not an anti or a proshipper Im a Normal person" or something like that, and Im not expressing a "neutral" stance on the topic of fiction's influence on reality either. There are topics like racism and orientalism in fiction that Im vocal about (which is expected since Im Algerian). I genuinely believe there are many things that are interesting to discuss and should be prioritized, but too many people are chronically online, subjective and defensive, at this point I dont even think it's accurate to say that disliking one side automatically means you support the other side regarding fiction. To me, "proship discourse" is not about the debate of the effects of fiction on reality, censorship in media, etc. It's about everything I described earlier that happens online.

[the-ellia-west]

@ Wild

What do you think about the others? Honest opinion, but I won't tell them, promise.

OOOH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, KIWI!!!

This is actually awesome, especially cool to ask Wild (the one who sees everything)

-

Wild: ...

Wild: They don't think I notice a lot of things. They don't think a lot of people notice things. But I do.

Wild: I may not feel much, but I can put labels on what little I can. Many think seeing who they really are means I would hate them. But that is a shallow view of a shallow mind. Everyone has some good in them.

Wild: Ronan, I like him. Underneath all that fire in his heart, he's a kind guy, fun-loving and well-meaning. He's just hurt. And I wish I could help him. He helped me.

Wild: Finn. He's a good leader. Knows what he's doing. Tries his best. He never spends time with me. But I don't mind. I know I'm quiet. I know his attention Is needed elsewhere. But I do love him. I really do. He tries to make me comfortable, I see that. He's kind and loving. I want to be just like him. Rose told me my father wasn't a good one. Is this what a father is supposed to do?

Wild: Morena, she's lovely. Reminds me of someone. But I can't recall who. She pretends everything is alright, but I can see that it isn't, she just wants to make sure we're all okay and not worry about her. She loves Finn. She doesn't see how much Finn loves her. She doesn't see how much we all love her. She's scared. Like me. She loves me more than anything, makes me feel like I deserve it. And I love her.

Wild: Rose is my favorite person. She reminds me of what I can remember of mother. She loves me, she shows me how to use my magic. She's always there for me. She makes sure I'm okay. She cares about me. About my emotions. About my wellbeing. And I care about her. I don't think she knows that I see she's running herself into the ground for us. She's smart, and strong. But I wish she cared more for herself. Her and Morena. Her magic inspires me.

Wild: Jakkon? I like him a lot. He has his own problems. I know that. But he was pleasant to me when Rose brought me to him. He looked... scared when He saw me, almost like how I felt before Father hurt me. And I can tell he's hurting himself. In more eays than one. He doesn't want Rose to know. He doesn't want any of us to know. Finn knows. Ronan has an idea. Rose knows. But not to the extent she thinks she does. He hurts. Badly. And I want to help him. I just don't know how. He talks to me like I'm grown up, and he's proud of me. That makes me feel a little warm. I like being around him. I think I make him happy sometimes.

Wild: Mangrove... I love him he's like my brothers. Only... if they liked me. He's a bit haughty and vain, but I can tell he's not really. He just pretends he is. And he has so much emotion. I sometimes mimic him. Maybe if I do what he does when he feels strong emotion... maybe I will, too. He has his own problems with emotion, though. He doesn't know how to take out those big emotions in any way that is not destroying something. He likes telling me stories, I can tell he really likes talking about this man named Caius. And I like listening. I think they're related. I admire him.

Wild: Phenik is my best friend. He doesn't know. And I haven't told him. But he is the kindest, loveliest person I have ever met. He even Rivals mother. He does his best to make sure I know he loves me and cares about me. He includes me, and asks me questions about myself, and I do the same. I am interested in everything he says, he has a fascinating life, and I can tell he's sad under all those smiles. But that's what drives him to be kind. He doesn't want anyone to be sad. Ever. And that's amazing. At least, I think so.

Bonus:

Wild: Fye is an interesting person. She is angry and sad, and happy, and excited and bored all at once. She wants to hurt, but to heal others as well, she wants to change, but she wants to please her father. There is a good woman under there somewhere. I can see her every time Fye smiles at Phenik's jokes or Morena's Compliments, I can see her every time Finn tells her she's done a good job. She just wants to be loved. Only she thinks it must be earned, or else taken.

[shoyastars]

Audrey Cinder

Hero of the Stars with a Hero of Sparks

Please remember that the fandom of Binary Star Hero isn’t for children, therefore no children are allow to interact or come in contact with the game or creator CONCRETEPARASITE. The game is intended for adults and should respect the the choices of the creator. Thank you for reading this and we can now continue.

Also:

Bold: Creed

Normal text: Audrey

Both Creed and Audrey are labeled as Pink for they’re characters are both somewhat important, yet not important to the story.

Pink: Somewhat important characters for a certain character, or certain part for the story.

“Feels like yesterday I became a hero… the times I’ve failed… the times I’ve won…”

“It really doesn’t matter!”

.

.

“But to pause for one moment in a situation of great danger….”

.

.

“Is like showing weakness…. And showing you how you aren’t ready…”

.

.

.

.

“Good thing I’m gout of that stage am I right?”

The audience would cheer or laugh after the hero Sparks answered a question upon their experience for being in the hero field for 4 years. National television always had its “flare” as people would say… for Audrey it would be a act, they learned from Binary Star himself that to keep you’re secret identity, it’s important to keep you’re personal life far away from you’re hero life as much as possible. Audrey couldn’t help but be a bit tired of acting like the go lucky hero all the time, now they knew how Ray felt… and he’s done this for years…

“Ahaha! Well aren’t you quite the wonder! Now tell us.”

“Hm?”

“What was it like being Binary Stars sidekick for you?”

Audrey could say the truth but was against it, they’d rather not use Binary Star as a tool for popularity, but the people love him, and once they hear you used to be his sidekick, they won’t stop wondering.

“Now, now. Didn’t I say not to talk of Binary Star since he’s not here?”

With that Audrey played it off in a playful tone, as to keep her cheerful act up.

“Oh we know, but the fans are just dying to know! Especially since we’re having this interview with you today!”

Audrey couldn’t help but feel a bit of spite from the interviewer, could they really not lay off? Yet again, it is their job to try and get people to talk. Especially when it comes to popular media….

“I-“

“I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

With her surprise Binary star…. Was here?? Nobody told her about this.

The interviewer smiled as he then sat down on the chair next to me, that was supposed to be empty.

“Good timing! I was just asking her what it was like being you’re sidekick for 2 years.”

He looked at Audrey with that obviously fake smile, he could read her mind. However her tone was all the more clear she wasn’t interested in talking about it.

“Now I don’t think it’s-“

“No, no! Please do tell everyone. I would like to know as well what you thought.”

Audrey felt annoyed, Ray was definitely being a pain in the ass on purpose…. Thanks a lot Ray!

Thankfully Audrey was able to survive the interview along with Binary Star’s games… She felt so tired, she gone ahead and changed out of her clothes that screamed out that she was Sparks, and changed into her usual comfort clothes of choice. Looking into the mirror however… She groans in annoyance, too much makeup… what was it with shows and looking their best? They do get it, the makeup kinda helps with the whole “keeping your identity a secret” thing, but still… there is a thing called too much…

After washing it all off she sighed, tired after a long day of work. She starts walking out the door, feeling the cool night air in the city.

“Hey Kid, think you forgot something.”

‘Great….’

With that Audrey turned to face him, not wanting to talk to him today. He handed her her phone. At least it was an important item.

“Thanks.”

The silence was thick. It’s been so long since they last talked. He was announced to be arriving in the city… but didn’t know exactly what the NAHA was up to yet again.

“Um… I’m just gonna…. Go…”

“Hold on one second.”

“Yes?…”

Audrey wondered what he could’ve wanted from her. He was never interested in talking to her before, the NAHA partially had him ask her to become his sidekick, due to other heros being occupied. It really did feel awkward.

“…”

“…”

“……”

“Have a good night.”

???

‘The fuck?’

That was weird….

Was he actually trying or was it just him chickening out?…… weird guy….

Audrey just shrugs and goes home to rest. Luckily tomorrow she has a day off.

-______________________________________________-

The next day when she woke up she was trying to enjoy her morning, She went to a small cafe, Waning Crescent. The quiet cafe brings calm, and less worry that people will recognize her. The employees are more easy to talk to, when they easy to talk to they mean don’t give a fuck what the latest new on hero’s are, except the ever so energetic Miles. Who was practically a hero loving fanboy. She enjoys their coffee, sometimes she has enough time before work to stop in and get a cup. However, today was a day they were glad not to be working to enjoy and savor their drink however long they want for today.

“Hello!”

“Hi!”

“Same as usual I’m guessing?”

“Yep, pretty much a regular here. How the job going for you?”

“It’s been a month and I’ve pretty much got things down, but Miles has not gotten the name down yet…”

“Miles… always the one to be a bit more silly.”

The cashier with the name tag labeled ‘Mistin’ let out a light laugh.

“Silly is an understatement… a bit of an-“

“Caramel Latte!”

“Oh that’s mine.”

Audrey got her drink and took a sip, as expected it was comforting as usual.

“You’re not in a rush today?”

Audrey shook her head.

“Nope, I’ve got the day off. I’ve Decided that I might as well enjoy my favorite cafe on my day off.”

“You sure it’s you’re favorite?”

Audrey rolled her eyes as she laughs a bit.

“Well unlike other cafes, you guys are more fun to talk to.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

With that the person with green hair smiles a bit.

“And you sure it’s not cause of the coffee?”

“Why can’t it be both? Having a nice chat and having a fresh coffee.”

“Is a latte even a coffee?”

The employee named miles questions as he comes out from the back.

“Hm, good question.”

“Let’s just stick to not asking questions and doing our actual jobs, Miles.”

Miles only shrugs, obviously not taking Creed seriously.

With that Audrey went to sit down somewhere comfortable. She enjoyed the somewhat peaceful atmosphere, they noticed Binary Star’s interview on the television.

‘Great…’

Audrey couldn’t help but feel annoyed anytime someone or something brought up hero’s especially out in public. She then brought out her phone trying to find some music to distract them, until they realized they left they’re headphones back home.

‘God damn it…’

Audrey then decided to try and just relax again. Until they heard Haley and Mistin talking.

“What do you think my dream job would be?”

“I dunno, a hero maybe?”

‘Them to?….’

“Pfft I really look the type huh?”

At this point Audrey gave up.

The door opened and suddenly a familiar person comes in, Audrey almost choked on her own drink seeing him.

That was Ray!

“Maybe your superhero name could be like… the Pessimist or something.”

Mistin laughed, without even noticing the guy behind him.

Audrey would’ve felt bad for the guy if only Haley didn’t make that joke, causing her to laugh a bit as well.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly would I do? Bum all the villains out so much they decide to go home?”

Mistin then unties they’re apron and mock a superhero pose. Audrey smiles a bit a light laugh coming out.

“You there, disgusting villain! Don’t you have any idea about the money you are stealing?”

Audrey tries to hold in yet another laugh. She can’t help herself.

“Inflation is on the rise! That money will be worth next to nothing in 2 years!”

Audrey covered her mouth with her arm, as to not cause Ray to look over at her, she doesn’t wanna deal with him outside of work. However the joke couldn’t help but be more than true.

“Pfft!”

Haley turned they’re back to Mistin.

“Wow you could totally go for it, you are even bumming me out!”

Even Mistin found the ridiculousness of it.

“That’s what I like about you Mistin.”

“You feel like the only other person that truly couldn’t give a shit about the heros.”

“Me and Creed both.”

“Even villains tend to have favorite heros.”

“You and Creed couldn’t care less.”

Haley seemed more interested now.

“Why is that?”

“Mom and Dad were never a hero fan household, so.. technology, like children like parents.”

“Mhm.”

“And Taxpayer money and all that…”

“Uhh… can I order?”

“HOLY!?”

Mistin jumped when they heard Ray’s voice, which surprised both Ray and Audrey. Audrey couldn’t help but giggle, causing Ray to look over to her.

Audrey couldn’t help but curse themself. They could practically feel his disappointment that she was there, Audrey only wanted to enjoy a drink at a cafe they like and this happens….

Audrey quickly gets out of there and decides to walk home. She does not want to be accused of following him outside of work, when clearly they were there first. She knows she’ll get a call later, but couldn’t care less.

After arriving at a home, Audrey laid down on her bed. Sighing as they thought about why Ray was in the cafe. He never been seen drinking coffee before. They’re phone began to ring, without looking at the caller she answered, probably the nagging old man Hershel himself.

“Ye-“

“So you go to Waning Crescent?”

“Agh!”

Audrey was startled to the point of accidentally hanging up on Ray. He never called them outside of work or called just to talk, besides he was once their boss so….

“Shit-“

‘Maybe I should call him back or maybe…. I should wait for him to call?….’

‘How the hell do I even call a guy who used to be my boss….. what if he doesn’t answer back????’

‘If he’s calling me it’s probably important, however he mentioned the cafe Waning Crescent… what could be so important about that he called me?’

Audrey’s phone buzzed again, this time she checked her phone. It’s Ray again.

‘Ok Audrey, don’t panic this time. Maybe it’s a secret mission that includes your favorite cafe. Maybe… A big criminal goes there and needs to be taken down. I won’t know unless I…. Talk to him….’

Audrey took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello…?”

“You sure hung up on me fast. Did you have something else to do?”

Awkward…..

“Um… yeah…. Totally….”

“For a hero, you’re awful at lying.”

‘Fuck……….’

“So about Waning Crescent.”

“Oh yeah… pretty neat place… is there something important about it?”

Audrey asked one of the important questions that came to mind.

“Do you know the employees there personally?”

That made her even more nervous. Was one of the employees suspected of being a criminal? They didn’t think one of em could be one.

“Well personally I wouldn’t say I knew them on a “personal” level but they are nice to talk to, even Mistin who works at the front, they’re pretty easy to talk to-“

“Mistin? How long have you talk to them for? How did it became easy?”

“Huh…?….”

“HUH?!”

“Agh! Don’t yell into the phone Sp- Audrey…”

“Well if you’re interested in a person I talk to on the regular, of course I’m gonna be fucking shocked! Why are you even so interest- wait…. Ray… are you…”

“Shit-“

“You like them don’t you?”

“No.”

“Liar!”

“Hey I’m not a-“

“Seriously do you think I’ll go tell on you to Hershel if I do?”

A pause comes over the phone on Audrey’s end. She sighs as she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“How were you my boss?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ray you’re the top hero of the country with multiple abilities, for fuck sake you’ve managed to bring down the criminal rate when you arrived. You really think I’d have the guts to go tell on you’re ass?”

“…..”

“God you’re more likely to think you’re inferior to a rock if possible.”

“I take offense to that…. But… you really wouldn’t tell the organization?”

“What would I be able to do? Have them threaten an innocent person? That’s not exactly hero behavior. I’m a hero not a monster.”

Somehow Audrey felt like something had changed a bit in the situation.

“So you wouldn’t say a word?”

“How many times do you got to hear me until you get it through your thick skull?”

Audrey suddenly heard a soft chuckle, surprising her a bit. She’s never heard him laugh before.

“This is actually a first. Better not have lied to me, or I might as well hunt you down.”

“Uh huh. Now you’re interested in Mist huh?”

“You’re on a nickname basis?”

“Listen!”

“If you wanna woo them over you have to talk to them, I believe you already talked to them today, didn’t you?”

Silence

“Ray..?”

“I…. Well… kinda of….”

Audrey couldn’t help but grown in annoyance, he acts as if he hasn’t dated anyone before. Does she have to go over basic steps to talk to a crush??? Surely he’s loved someone before!!??

This is gonna be a long call….

——————————————————————————

When Ray had the free time to go in to the cafe Waning Crescent, Audrey managed to get off work and meet up with him in time. Audrey prepared for many scenarios and was confident he could woo them over.

“So! You’re going in there and talking to them! You got that?”

“It’s that simple?”

“Ray I know for a fact you’re messing with me.”

“No shit.”

“First drop that, second establishing a relationship between two people is important, so that means no running away! Try starting a simple conversation.”

“You really thought I ran away?”

“Did you at least have a conversation other than you’re order of coffee?”

“….”

“Exactly!”

Audrey began pushing him towards the cafe.

“You got this! Be sure to put yourself out there!”

With that she pushed him inside. Ray glaring back and her, Audrey behind the glass showing him a thumbs up in support.

After awhile Audrey didn’t see any progress or Ray talking with Mistin, she wonders if Mistin wasn’t working today, that was until Mistin comes out with a bus tub, Ray notices them. Audrey texts him on her phone.

“Go for it!”

Ray, didn’t even look at him phone, instead he started to walk towards Mistin, Audrey was ecstatic, that was until they noticed the they saw Mistin practically getting startled by Ray because Mistin was wearing ear buds…..

Well…… at least one thing was checked off, starting an actual conversation between the two. Audrey couldn’t help but smile. Therefore she gone after and went home, even texting Ray a “Good luck at work lover boy!”

Audrey smiled knowing today was a success, and expected Ray to be leaving them alone after this.

Little did they know… they’d be signing themselves up for something more than just helping establish a relationship with a crush.

To be continued!

If you want to check of which moment I mentioned in the story, this is where you can check it out!

Thank you for reading! And if given criticism! I’ll take it to better the character in the future!

[toothfa-1-ry]

THEY'RE THE PERSON OF MY DREAMS, BUT WAS I EVER EVEN A PART OF THEIRS? - Na Jaemin

Jaemin loved you. He was utterly inlove with you, heads over heels inlove with you. He was willing to live for you, to die for you, he was willing to do anything you wanted him to do. So why couldn't you even spare him a small place in your heart? Even when his entire heart only consist of you?

GENRE: Angst, toxic relationship

PAIRING: Non Idol Na Jaemin x toxic reader (gender not specified)

FEAT: Jaemin's bestfriend Jeno

WARNING: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, toxic reader, reader is a major asshole to Jaemin, suggestive themes, swear words

A/N: By NO MEANS am I glorifying or romanticising toxic relationships at all by this fic, rather I'm trying to show how much a toxic relationship can affect someone. If you find yourself in a toxic relationship or know someone who is in a toxic relationship please don't hesitate to get some help and talk to someone. Your worth more than those assholes who don't deserve you, your worth more that half assed apolagies.

Jaemin stares at your lips,

He's been staring at your lips for some while as his own fingers lightly glide over his own lips unaware that your silently observing him.

He wonders how it would feel, your lips against his. Those soft beautiful lips he dreamt of everynight he laid in his bed, he wonders if you ever dream of his own lips like he does to yours.

It's not like you guys haven't kissed before, because you guys have kissed eachother many times before. Sometimes in the alley behind the club you always force him to go with you, or sometimes in the middle of the night in his room whenever your feeling a type of way.

But Jaemin wants to kiss you properly, not those half drunk half sober makeouts you have with him. Not those kisses which only leave him feeling empty and broken

Actually, to be really honest,

All Jaemin really wanted was for your to actually kiss him. To kiss him like you liked him, to kiss him the way he always kissed you. He wanted you to kiss him and also feel the butterflies he felt, for your heart to also race as you kiss him. For you to feel all the things he feels whenever the both of you kiss.

At a certain point, Jaemin wonders what he is to you. The both of you never put a label to your relationship. All Jaemin knew was one day you would start ignore him. Maybe you'll ignore him for days, maybe for weeks and then suddenly your there on top of him, kissing him like there's no tomorrow as the both of you lay on his bed.

He liked you too much to stop you, fuck he was inlove with you. But were you inlove with him? Did you even like him? Did you even think of Jaemin the slightest bit of the the way Jaemin thought of you? Or did Jaemin only come to your mind when you felt the need of someone's company?

"what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jaemin's thoughts are interrupted by your voice, your finally looking at him instead of your glowing mobile screen

"no- no it's nothing" Jaemin stammered. He always felt nervous around you, maybe even a little scared. Afraid that one small mistake, and you'll get angry. One wrong move and you'll turn cold and distant.

"huh? What's up with you? You wanna makeout or something?" You smirk, your fingers still busy on your phone

"what- I. No I mean- I don't know"

"what's that suppose to mean?"

Shit shit shit

"do you not like hanging out with me? Is that what your tryna say here Na?" You ask him, your eyebrows knit together

Jaemin feels like running away, he feels like begging for your forgiveness but he's frozen. The weird feeling he always had whenever he was around you only growing even more

"is that what your saying? I'm so boring that you can't even think of something to talk with me about?"

Jaemin's mouth runs dry as the words come out of your tongue. He blinks once, twice, thrice unable to say anything, to do anything. All he wants is for you to not be angry at him, to not scold him. All he wants is for you to love him or atleast pretend to even if it's just for a second or two

"i- that's not what I meant.. I-" Jaemin's words are cut short by your scoff, he watches as you roll your eyes in annoyance

"i- i- i- what Jaemin? Spit it out. Your being so annoying these days. Honestly I'm getting tired of you"

All the words in Jaemin's head vanishes, he feels the pool of water forming in his eyes, the lump in his throat as he struggles to think of something to say. He always ends up feeling this way with you and he hates it. He hates it so much. But what can he do? When your the one he loves so much? The one his heart aches for, the one his heart yearns for

You seem to notice Jaemin's teary eyes and the slight shaking in his body. Jaemin hears you sigh.

"Jaemin-ah seriously? Your getting upset over this? Agh this is so irritating do you understand?" Jaemin can hear that your getting even more annoyed but he can't do anything, he's afraid to do anything

"y/n I'm sorry- I'm so sorry" the words come out as a sob "I like being with you, I just- fuck I like you so much. That's all" Jaemin chokes out as he fumbles on his words, his head looking down afraid to make eye contact with you, afraid of your reaction

He's ready to hear you scold him more, maybe even threaten to leave him. Hes ready for you to go away and leave him alone for a few weeks before you come back as if nothing happens. He already hears you getting up from his bed, he doesn't want you to leave, he doesn't want to be left alone.

Jaemin probably knows that this isn't the best time to say it, he's unsure how you'd react to it, if you'd get even more angry at him but right now he's willing to say anything for you to stay

"it's just that- I love you"

There, he said it. Jaemin said the L word, he said the L word to you. A memory of him telling his bestfriend Jeno that he loved you comes to his mind. The way Jeno reacted, the way they disapproved, the way they tried to tell him that he didn't love you but he couldn't care any less, not when looked at him like that

"you- you love me?" You ask, your hand on the handle of Jaemin's door and the other hand holding your phone

"I do- I love you. I love you so much y/n"

You look at Jaemin in a unexplainable way. Your face a mixture of shock and another emotion he couldn't exactly pin point

"Na Jaemin what the hell are you saying? what the hell do you think your sayin-"

"please y/n. Please just say that you love me back. Say tht you atleast like me back y/n" Jaemin pleads, he hears the tone of his voice and for a split second he couldn't help but wonder how Jeno would react to hearing him like this

"just say it, that you like me. Even if it's only a little bit, that's all I need. Say that I have a place in your heart. Even if its only a small place I don't care-" Jaemin's eyes looked at yours "just say that you care for me"

You don't say anything for a moment and neither does he. The both of you just stay there unmoving. Jaemin remains where he is, holding his breath even, afraid that one small movement will drive you further away from him

"Jaemin-"

"y/n? I really-"

"Jaemin you fucking crazy- your fucking insane. You can't be serious right now"

Jaemin watches you, his eyes widened, mind racing, heart beating ever so fast. He watches as your face contorts into anger and disgust as you look at him in complete dislike and discontempt as if he carried a deadly disease you didn't want to catch.

"don't fucking play stupid games with me Na. I dont have time for you or the bullshit your playing with me right now- I'm leaving, for good- don't fucking call me you stupid fuck" you slam the door behind you and quickly walk out of his apartment leaving Jaemin alll alone

You leave a broken Jaemin behind, a crumbling Jaemin whose entire room began to fill up with his sobs as he began to wonder if you ever even thought of the idea of liking him, probably not.

He hates himself for thinking that you could like him, for thinking that there was something in between the both of you that the both of you mutually shared.

"you stupid fuck Na Jaemin" he tells himself as he cries himself to sleep, the bed feeling as cold as it ever did, even when you slept in it with him.

-

It's going to be a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few months later when Jaemin would receive a message from you again. He'd completely ignore everything that happened before, all the things you said before and go out to meet you. Craving your touch even more, your affection even more

By this point he knows something is wrong and whatever he has with you isn't healthy, it isn't even safe but he can't stop himself, especially not when you call him in the middle of the night begging him to talk to you. Not when you whisper those sweet words in his ear which he knows you don't mean.

It would take a year or two, maybe even 4 years, maybe even 6 but one day Jaemin would let you go, actually let you go.

And one day Jaemin would find the love he has been giving others, he'll find the same love he always gave you. One day someone will love him like how he loved you.

But this is the future we're talking about, not the present.

For now, Jaemin is going to lie down next to you as you fill his head with pretty lies, he's going to hold you in his arms as you kiss his face with empty kisses, as you break his heart. For now Jaemin is going to continue wishing that you'll learn to love him, that maybe one day you'll love him. That maybe you do love him, you just don't know it yet

For now, he's going to let you continue breaking his heart again and again until there are no pieces left to give you. Until the cracks fill his heart up that there's no space left for you in it.

For now he's going to pretend he has a place in your heart, even when he was never even there in the first place

[your-bigender-big-brother]

vent anon here and also thank you!!!

recently, I've been having a bunch of gender dysphoria. It helps to collect genders since a big part of the dysphoria is just... confusion. I look in the mirror and I don't see myself, except I don't even know what "myself" is supposed to look like because I don't know what my gender is.

Usually, I can satisfy myself with "trans." But when the dysphoria gets awful, I'm struck by this stupid urge to understand my gender and know who and what I am. And it helps to collect genders. It helps to have who I am translated from this messy goop into simple, understandable words.

the problem is, I get really, really obsessed. My first time collecting, I wound up with over 300 labels. I felt like I was trying to grab a ball of oil - every time I thought I had it, it just slipped from my fingers again. I get into these hyperspecific microlabels, and it just ends up making me feel worse and even more confused.

all this to say that I'm kinda... scared of myself right now? I'm trying to collect more general terms and stay away from hyperspecifics, hoping that maybe if I stick to general terms I can understand myself without going crazy.

I want to talk to someone about it, but I'm worried my friends will think I'm silly. Xenogenders are sometimes viewed as not-real genders, and I don't want them to think I'm faking being trans or something. It helps a bunch to talk about how I feel without being worried I'll sound dumb, so thanks v much for the opportunity and sorry for the super long ask hehe

Anon, I love the super long asks and I encourage them. It gives me something to read and respond to, which is really nice.

Hoarding labels we relate to can definitely be a mess. That's a lot of terminology to sort through! What do you call yourself? You can't just put 300 labels in a tumblr bio. Which ones fit best? Should you keep the ones that only partially fit your experience? What about condensing them into fewer labels? The similar ones can get filed away into a larger umbrella term, right?

This is where you take a deep breath and remember that gender is a mess for a lot of people in this community. We're all struggling to find terms that fit just right, and sometimes it takes a really long time. And not every experience has quite the right word to describe it. Sometimes, we have to invent our own language to fill that gap, and that's the beauty of this community - we find a way to make it work.

What that means is reaching out to others and talking about your feelings, your doubts, your struggles. There's definitely someone out there having the same kind of issue as you. You might gain some insight from interacting with others, especially other gender hoarders.

As for feeling like a "faker": I've absolutely dealt with that myself! It took a long time for me to accept that I'm even nonbinary, because I spent so long clinging to the gender binary and never wanting to stray away from that. Not many people understand why I'm nonbinary and what that means for me. But their lack of understanding does not make me less valid, just less seen. I could be transmasculine, nonbinary, pangender, stargender, catgender, it doesn't matter. There's always someone out there who will doubt my existence. If that's always the case, then why not continue being proudly myself? I prefer the authentic experience, not the easy one.

If anyone who follows me has some kind of advice, please feel free to send me some for this anon! I would love for them to feel a bit better about things and see that they aren't alone.

- Your Bigender Big Brother 💙💚

[mistymeow69]

the thing wrong with the radqueer community, as a semi-active member.

*THIS IS ENTIRELY MEANT TO BE RESPECTFUL AND JUST TALKING ABOUT MY THOUGHTS, PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY

The thing that I believe is harming the rq community and its reputation, as well as driving away a lot of newer members, and tearing apart the community of the veteran members, is the controversy over what is and isn't a transid, a transid vs a fantasy/desire.

More specifically, I find it kind of strange how people take everything they want and put the trans- prefix on it, make it a flag, and suddenly it's valid. Not to say all identities aren't valid and subjective, but I just feel like a lot of people don't understand what it means to be transid.

Like, for example, transst4lked. Do you feel dysphoria over not being st4lked? Do you feel genuine euphoria and like you're truly yourself when you're st4lked? Or is it just something you want to happen? Are you ACTUALLY transitioning to it in any way? Is it really a transid if there is no trans- in the first place? Have you felt this way for a long time, even throughout childhood, or did you just read one Colleen Hoover book and immediately run to Tumblr to tarnish the rq community?

This is also a part of the controversy surrounding transharmed identities. There's no real way to tell if someone ACTUALLY has that illness or trauma or whatever intertwined with their identity, and they truly understand the struggles of the people who naturally have it, and if they can actually see themselves with it and happier with it in the future, or if they're just romanticizing, faking it, and/or just a kid who doesn't know what it's like to feel the need to transition in any way and forgets about it in a month.

This is not to say all transid or transharmed people are like this, I'm transid myself, I'm just saying it's a big problem nobody talks about because the rq community is supposed to be supportive of everyone, so it's filled with silence when it comes to things like this, nobody wants to be the one to judge.

I just feel like a lot of people don't understand the concept of a transid, to transition to something else, to feel as though you are something else inside and should've been born as that and you'd feel so much more fulfilled the more you could live your life like that, whether it be gender, race, age, etc. I really don't want people going around misusing our labels to feel special then going and abandoning it in a month or two.

Now, as I say myself, there's always room to learn about things you don't understand. You shouldn't go and directly tell people they're invalid without at least trying to have a look on the inside. So, if anyone finds this sort of thing applies to you, feel free to help me understand in the comments. But if you just feel attacked, then you're proving my point.

So, there's my 4 am rant on why I believe trendhoppers are tearing apart the radqueer community.

[b0mblover]

a gods confusion

(/1)

by: J

(help this is just about lopt plates and jirou being grossed out by it)

6 in the morning, not much was on the docket, the only reason jirou was up at this time anyways was because he had online classes, well just one, who decided to host a class about sewing at 6 am anyways? more importantly why would jirou join. winter classes were always hardest, it was too cold to get out of bed and everyone takes the evening classes more than in the summer, but just one class at 6 am wasnt the end of the world. it spanned for an hour, giving a ten minute break in the middle, some people worked on what they were taught, or used the bathroom or got something to eat. jirou prefered to use the bathroom and continue whatever he was working on, to not lose focus. 6:35, he came out of the bathroom, he noticed that lopt was chewing on something that had a… less than pleasant sound. Not wanting to miss class for the 5th time already, he mentally made a note to ask lopt. thankfully, the last 20 minutes went mostly smooth, since it was only the beginning of the semester, it was just mostly about how to get your ideas onto paper and whatnot. Jirou, as much as he wishes he wouldve, didnt pay much attention, his grades were mostly fine, granted a few c’s and d’s in math but over all a’s and b’s so he didnt hwve to worru about grades that much, jusy missing classes. He walked out of his room to see lopt watching some news station called “fox news”. he was aware that was an american “news” station, how the hell did they get that in japan? “hey” “oh youre done with your class already? what do you want me to tuck you back into bed?” lopt replied, with a vague british accent, lopt isnt british. “i, wha, no, i meant to ask you something” he said, vaguely confused. “which would be..?” “what the hell were you eating earlier, it sounded disgusting” “huh? what do you mean, oh those white disc thingys?” he sounded as if he were actually confused as to what jirou said. “Uh, i guess? i thought we didnt have much food.. and i know mostly what we keep.” “oh, do you not know the name either?” “i mean no? i guess not??” jirou had literally no fucking idea as to what lopt was talking about “here hold on ill show you” “um alright?” lopt walked over to the kitchen cabinets before skimming over tiny labels at the bottom, they were in braille, how was he even reading them by looking? 

(note, braille because 1. noriko has shit eyesite and its funny to imagine that she basically is blind 2. i have a parasite in my brain that makes me include some part of my life)

he landed on one, the third from the oven. opened it, grabbed whatever the hell he was speaking of and walked back to jirou. “see this!” “lopt.. please dont tell me you were eating that” “huh i was why?” lopt spoke at a rather quick pace, which is just wonderful for someone with auditory processing disorder. (sarcasm) “i, lopt, those are plates, why the hell” “oh, plates huh? they taste bland honestly, maybe they need to be heated up?” he thought to himself aloud “i uh no? lopt youre not supposed to eat those? how do you not know that..” “what do ya mean? ive heard the word but ive never seen one, must be some new day thing” he muttered the last part to himself. “lopt, what i know you know what a plate is, yknow.. a dish? bowl? salver? platter??” “Oh a salver! oh thats what this is wait what why does it look so weird?” “i what? lopt thats how plates have always looked?” “nah what no, salvers dont look like this at all!” “i, i mean maybe not? i why am i still awake, im gonna go sleep goodnight” jirou groaned and walked to his room alone. Lopt, still questioning if he really ate a “salver” decided to look for his phone, of course he had no idea where he put it, for being a god, he was awfully forgetful. 

[whsprings]

attention seeking gets a bad rep. there is nothing wrong with attention seeking and the "correct" response should not be to ignore it. i mean, reaching out for help is a form of seeking attention. it is literally saying "please pay attention to this. i need you." lots of people are prevented from recovery because their eating disorder has an element of attention seeking (like wanting to look sicker than others or have others be worried about your weight or get a specific diagnosis is seeking a specific type of attention) but it's so taboo that people can't bear to even admit it. it can be harmful and isn't always a sustainable way to get your needs met, but therapists who react to it like it's a gross thing to be ignored are just making things worse for everyone. if i were your therapist, i would have said "that's a lot less than your meal plan. it seems like you're trying to show me that you're struggling right now. i see why you included exchanges, but i'm more concerned with how you're feeling and what i can do to help. can we talk more about what your thoughts and feelings around food have been like next session? please reach out to [dietician], if you haven't already, since the physical impact of this is outside my expertise. i believe you can make it through this."

"i guess the point of that ask is. yeah, what you sent was a ploy for attention, because you were hurting and you needed the person who you literally pay to help with that to notice you were in pain. why is that bad? because you have an eating disorder and have had the treatment bullshit of "worsening eating disorder means less exchanges, prove you are sick by less exchanges" and because you have low self esteem and a lot of shame, you felt the need to prove it was "really" getting bad again that you weren't being dramatic. why would she ignore that just to rebuke you for asking for help in the wrong way, instead of pointing out what i just pointed out in a non judgmental way? how would that make you feel anything but invalidated and shamed? sorry but this is making my blood boil for you. i've seen this attitude on many therapists before and it's the most condescending paternalistic evil bullshit"

ugh yes thank you!! a response like that would have been so appreciated at the time instead of getting a lecture. I have been working a lot with my dietitian to unlearn a lot of the stuff I've picked up in various treatment places over the years like "I shouldn't purge because I am not supposed to" vs "I shouldn't purge because I find it unpleasant and it has the potential of causing me harm."

also this brings up the fact that when you're diagnosed with bpd or bpd tendencies literally everything you do is labeled as attention seeking or fake or dramatic etc etc. I have had to deal with it essentially because of my demographic (young woman who has struggled with self harm, suicidality, and attachment issues) but am not diagnosed (unless you count my idiot of a psychiatrist) and getting people to listen to you is made way too fucking difficult.

[my-strange-attraction]

Ok, so time for a follow up. CW for sex/ sexual topics.

This is about to get more TMI than any of my posts in the past, because I’m sick of trying to censor myself in my own space, which has really been my big struggle with sexual orientation this whole time, when you boil it down to the basics. Also, tumblr can go fuck themselves for making us hide behind a million censors and veiled references to sexual topics when there are literal nazis on this website who can talk freely. This is the sex positivity site! Let us talk about m*sturbation and tag it!

Ok, mini rant over. This is gonna be a long one, guys. I’ve been holding out. Update under the cut.

Right so I’m pretty certain at this point that I’m not asexual or honestly acespec at all and I am demiromantic/ grayromantic. If you’ve been following my journey, you’ll know that last fall I very very suddenly went from not having any sort of orientation (sexual, romantic, or alterous) to being a lesbian.

Never ever before last fall did I even suspect having felt any sort of sexual attraction toward anyone. It would be obvious, I told myself. Everybody else recognized it immediately, everybody knew exactly what sexual attraction felt like because they felt it when they looked at somebody else and they HAD to do something about it, at least, eventually.

I also thought I didn’t have any sort of sex drive. I’d tried to touch myself ~ down there ~ before, even looked at diagrams because I have female anatomy and there was supposed to be a spot where it felt good just by touching it, without even really trying, right?

So anyways, naturally this all started when I read a ~ stimulating ~ fic one morning, couldn’t stop thinking about it all day, and then discovered that spot when I went to bed that night. I... definitely have a sex drive.

A bit of background about me that might be helpful at this point: I grew up in a very sheltered household. I was raised Catholic, and believed in it for most of my life, pretty much up until college. I also grew up in the midwest, in an admittedly progressive town, but the schools still had shit sex ed. And I am an incredibly anxious person and have been selectively mute in the past and that has had the effect on me that I learned from a very young age to figure things out on my own so I wouldn’t have to ask anyone anything ever.

I am lucky in that even though I was sheltered growing up, my parents have always encouraged me to make up my own mind about things and live my life the way I want to. The only thing they’ve really forced me to value is focusing on my education, but as long as I’m always trying my best, they’re not strict about what kind of grades or whatever I get either. That said, I never really felt the need to have a rebellious phase, and I always just wanted to please them.

All this just adds up to the fact that I definitely used to think it was noble to not be a sexual being, and that’s been a hard instinct to let go of over the years, even as I’ve stopped being religious and become the label anarchy sex positive person I am today.

The reason I even felt comfortable enough to really try to figure out how to have ~ fun sexy times ~ (I truly apologize for all the ways I’m referring to this, I’m cringing so hard but I don’t want to get in trouble with the tumblr gods) with myself was because over the past few years in college I’ve been around a lot of people who are pretty open about this stuff, and one person in particular who is very educated about sex and likes to drop fun facts about it.

So, I discovered I had a sex drive. Fine, cool. So I actually WAS a late bloomer (read: so repressed that I had myself convinced that I was not actually feeling sexual arousal ever, it was just another feeling bodies had sometimes that was uncomfortable and went away eventually). But what did that mean for sexuality? Did I actually feel sexual attraction all this time and not realize it?

I came to the conclusion that, for women, yes. And for men.... eh I’ve never really become good friends with one, too weird to think about, I’m gonna go with nah.

The rest isn’t really a long or complicated story. Realizing my attraction to women was easy because 1. I’ve already mentioned my “friend crushes” many times on here, translating that was easy, 2. despite the fact that I am female presenting and being gay SHOULD be harder, being straight has always seemed the harder thing to me (refer to above; I don’t talk to men a lot), 3. I am afab, and thinking about the other “parts” was scary, not to mention straight sex = chance of pregnancy, and 4. despite working to rid myself of this bias, I still have a tendency to think of men as “more sexual” than women, in general.

And that instinct is still there, to be as unsexual as I can. To think of sex as something inherently dirty and liking sex as something rebellious that troubled kids do. (I am not a kid, but I am 21, so I still feel like a baby.)

But lately I’ve been realizing that, well, one does not really read about mlm romance and smut for years without being at least a little interested in men. At least not the way I did it (to feel the butterflies in my stomach when they finally kissed and got together, to feel my face get hot when they got together.)

I've also been thinking a lot about what people mean when they say they are attracted to someone. The implication is sexual attraction, of course, so I always assumed that meant that just looking at someone turned people on, but it's a bit more complicated than that, isn't it? After thinking about it a bit, I actually think attraction is much more like just being excited to see or talk to a person in the same way that kids get excited for Christmas. It's anticipation, it's knowing, or at least guessing, that this is something that will make you really happy.

And that, I guess, is kind of at the heart of why I never understood my own sexuality (well, other than the whole repressed thing). I did the classic "think you're ace/bi when you're actually bi/ace because you feel the same about both genders," except I never considered it because there was a time when I understood attraction and myself less when I was questioning bi, so I thought I got that out of the way.

For a long time, I thought I felt nothing because I didn't talk to guys and I was certainly straight, right? Because there was no other option. I had a lot to learn at this point, and I imagine I still have a lot to learn now, but I think my gut was right on that, at least the first part.

I've still never had any romantic crushes, and I do think the not talking to guys is part of it, but what I was missing is that (and I've said this before on here I'm sure) I also never talk to girls I'm actually interested in. Most of my friends are girls and have been for my whole life, but when I see a pretty girl, I do tend to turn in the other direction because why would she want to talk to me?

Anyways that was long and long winded, and I still honestly don't want to put a label on things, just because it's all so new and I think my tendency to want to immediately label myself after I figure out something new about myself holds me back sometimes, but that's the update! If you made it this far, I literally don't know why, but thanks for coming along on my journey! As always, I will keep y'all updated because you know I can't help myself but to overshare on the internet.

Questioning my sexuality again, what is this?

[bitchlessdino]

and they were roommates pt.2

A svt.hub collab

Pairing: camboy!chan x afab roommate!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.2k

tags: pet name (kitten), oral, 34 +35, dirty talk, mentions of sex tape

Summary: Wanting sex is a natural feeling, it just so happens that gratification could be found in the next room with a shitty webcam and an infectious laugh.

author note: thank you @chogiwapadada for helping me proofread this thing and thank you guys for the endless support. the fact that this was on the top page for the seventeen tag is insane and y'all made such a big deal of this and therefore i thank you guys so much. but josh if you see this, no you don't go away, please. i am always constantly overwhelmed by the support and hopefully you guys enjoy this one too!

tag list: @sapphichui @librarian-stacks @dontflailmenow @gyuldaengie @minniemole @greysdarling @romromthedeer @yoondae @dinosbestie

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

You may be wondering, what happened that night when Chan fapped to the thought of you in front of a live audience, not forgetting to invite you when he’s made a mess of himself. Did you really take up his offer, stormed out of your room, and had the most mind-blowing sex with your roommate you ever had?

Of course, you fucking didn’t, are you kidding?

What you actually did was finish off independently in your own rooms and did not speak another word to each other for the rest of the night.

You were awkward roommates at the end of the day and who knows what kind of shit would happen if you decided to pursue these escapades any further. No matter how hot and incredible Chan/Dino looked naked, there was no way you’d potentially ruin your convenient living agreements with your roommate who obviously makes enough money for the both of you (a lot of thanks to you I guess). So, what was the tactical decision after learning your roommate is a popular and successful sex worker?

Act as if nothing happened. What live show? What’s Dino? What even is Svthub? You don’t masturbate, that’s icky.

Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing that too. But what else were you supposed to do?

You could hardly look Chan in the eye the next day. Fortunately, he paid you almost no mind being that it was his weekend too. However, last night’s show was not as easily forgettable for you as it was for him. You could still picture the momentum and force that took hold of his body that managed to power his personal gratification, killing every functional cell of your entire being. His smile was already so pretty on a normal basis but how it twists desperately when he gets closer and closer, and his whines get louder and bolder, you could just cum then and there.

It fucking drove you insane he was just sitting there on the couch, laughing at cartoons as if nothing happened. It, in fact, confused you, even more, making you consider whether last night was even a dream because of how contradicting Chan and Dino really were, but it’s him. That laugh is his, that smile is his, that body is his, and that semi-hard cock poking at his gray sweatpants was definitely his. How were you so stupid that you didn’t notice sooner?

You press your lips in a firm line when you notice him turn his head at you, urging you to swallow the built up drool in your mouth.

“You wanna go grocery shopping today,” he asks, “I think I remember there was a sale for something I’ve been needing for a while.”

Like he needs to participate in any sales from the income he grew overnight.

“We went shopping last week,” you pointed out.

He nods agreeingly, “yeah, but I think we can afford it. I kinda got a huge bonus.”

Yeah, because Chan’s horny roommate couldn’t control themselves.

“Sure. Just let me get my bag.”

He claps his hands in rejoice and waits for you on the couch. When you’re both ready, Chan grabs the house keys and you’re the first one to head to the front door. Turning the knob, you swing the door open and at your feet was a package labeled to your roommate. You curiously pick it up from the ground, “Hey, Chan—”

“Uh, that’s mine,” he snatches it, nervously chuckling, sticking it in a vacant spot on your shared bookshelf.

You narrow your eyes at him as he pushes you out of the apartment and locks the door behind you both. “What was that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, flicking his hand in feigning lack of care. “Just treated myself. Got here earlier than I expected.”

Next day shipping, hmm?

You don’t question it and let Chan lead the way to the local market to grab whatever was missing from your pantry. You push the cart as Chan fills its insides gleefully, walking around like a kid in a toy store. The scene before made you almost forget the persona that clouded your mind, especially as he grows indecisive picking between chips options. You felt a little normal about your situation again.

It was then you found smth you had been looking for. A sugar free coffee syrup collection that you’ve been dying to try and has been sold out for months; it was finally available. The problem was the shelf it was on. Higher than you admit you could reach. You stretch your toes out towards the box, desperately holding on to the whimsical domestic fantasy of flavored coffee, not even getting close to touching the box.

You then feel a presence behind you, his chest grazing your back just enough to feel the noticeable progress he’s made at the gym, and a blackberry scent that hits your nose so delightfully. You didn’t fight the urge to turn around, and you faced Chan as easily hid your body from plain sight, grabbing what you meant to retrieve.

Blinking back cautiously towards him, you see the glimpse of his alluring presence from last nice, but instead you see the full picture. He looks back at you with a taunt, his eyes weighing down to give you a playful condescending grin. In your head, you imagined him teasing you like he would his audience, calling you his little toy or kitten, but instead he says, “Here you go, little one.”

You scoff, snatching the box away from him. “I could have easily gotten it myself.”

He doesn’t move from his stance and instead rests a hand on a shelf mere centimeters from your head. He narrows bedroom eyes down at you and a smile on his face that makes thousands of people climax simultaneously. Your breath hitches as he shifts his stance, where you tighten your grip on the collection box in reassurance.

“I’m sure you think that.” He responds slyly.

You huff in disbelief, pushing past him and towards the cart, grumbling to yourself something about an annoying loser. Chan, within earshot, chuckles to himself, following behind you. Hands besides either of yours on the cart handle, he walks behind you with your back to his chest, essentially embracing you.

You feel the pitter patter of your heart as he whispers in your ear, “anything else I grab from high shelves for ya?”

You roll your eyes and elbow him instinctively, the man holds his gut, absorbing the blow of his consequences. “Please, you’re 5’7. How much help can you actually be?”

“5’8 actually! And I'm a great help!”

When you get back to your apartment, you share the abundance of grocery bags with Chan. You unlock the front door and close it behind both you and Chan. Your gaze lingers at the package left on the book shelf as you pack away the food.

“Not to pry, but what is that package anyway?”

He waves his hands dismissively, “not much, just something I’ve been wanting.”

A fleshlight? A cock ring? Or maybe, a silicone torso?

“Really, you sure seem indifferent for something you’ve been wanting,” you pointed out.

“And you’re really nosy for someone that didn’t want to pry.” He shuts the cabinet, annoyance emitting from his tone.

You feel awful about pestering him but the curiosity was killing you. You continue to light heartedly bring it up every little chance you get. To which, your roommate tries to change the subject or ignore you completely in hopes you forget. Unfortunately for him, you had no off switch.

“Ok, fine, y/n. You really want to know?”

You slightly falter. “…Sure.”

Chan takes out the keys out of his pockets and uses it to shred the box. He flips the box, one cardboard flap at a time, and reveals the excessive packing. He pulls it apart teasingly slow, offering you a slight glare, and your eyes finally land on what was inside. You peer at it confused, pursing your lips before announcing out loud, almost to come to terms with what’s inside.

“A dinosaur onesie?”

“Yeah. Are you happy? You excited yourself for one comfy piece of sleepwear,” he shrugs, underlyingly relieved.

You shake your head, “you spent your bonus on a onesie?”

“What I do in my down time is my business.”

He storms off with his new favorite form of comfort and closes his bedroom door behind him. Your body boiled over with shame, thinking to yourself how selfish and invasive you were being. What, you think because your roommate masturbates to the thought of you once during a web show means you could get in his face?

You facepalm yourself and reluctantly approach his door, a limp knock resonating off the cheap wood. “Chan, I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this, but that’s no excuse.”

Silence lingers.

“Look it’s not lame to have a onesie okay, I just thought there might be something else in that box? I don’t know, but don’t be mad at me…”

You’re basically talking to a brick wall, or in your case, a wooden door.

“I won’t bother you anymore, okay. I understand there’s some lines that were drawn and I breached one of them…Whenever you want to talk again, let me know. It’s my turn to make dinner anyway. I have to have your input if you’ll complain again.”

You unlatch yourself from the door frame and timidly walk off to your room. Hai door creaks open behind you and your head to see Chan’s head peek out. A guilty expression all over his face and a dry tongue, hesitant to bare out his thoughts. “I did something…bad. Weird even.”

Hesitation is apparent in your response, wondering if he was finally going to admit that secret of his. “okay.”

“I’m not trying to be closed off—”

“You’re not,” you interrupt, “I’m just being annoying.”

“No. No…Well—okay, a little, but maybe I feel that was because of what I did.”

“What did you do, Chan?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he whines.

“It’s okay, you can say it out loud,” you reassure him, “I will not judge.”

“I…may have a little bit too much of your body wash.”

“…huh?”

He steps out from the door. “I know how that kind of stuff does without saying, but it just smells so nice. But luckily I did grab some when we’re out, and you didn't notice, so I couldn’t handle the guilt any longer. So projected on you, got angry with you. I’m sorry.”

You blink back at him, unsure of how to respond. This certainly wasn’t something you expected to come out of your mouth and you wonder why he thought it’d be something to ponder over with your feelings in mind. “How cheap do you think I am?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that I think that I just…thought you should know the truth.”

“It’s fine, Chan. God, I thought you were going to talk about something serious. Is that all?” You egg on.

“…yeah.” He goes behind the door and isolates himself in his room.

You couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bothered that it was all he had to say to you. Was he really that unaffected by what happened?

You let out a huff of frustration. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to masturbate to some random hot guy on the internet. That bad guy had to be Chan. And Chan had to masturbate to you, with you, in front of thousands of other horny people to see. However, did he seem to care? Seems unlikely.

Your fist slams his door repeatedly, desiring the closure that should stop eating you up from inside, demanding him to “admit it” and while internally feeling embarrassed that you dropped the ball so quickly. You were a horny mess.

“You have more to explain to me Lee Chan!”

That goes on for a good minute until the door swings open and the man inside pulls you by the wrist disrupting his peace. You press against him, chest to chest, his eyes narrowing at you in frustration, while you look at him like a child about to receive punishment.

“Instead of waiting for me to say something, why don’t you just ask?” He suggests with a sinister tone under his breath.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, your legs grow weak from his tense presence, and you no longer have the urge to speak. Chan’s hand places on the side of your hip, pulls you up from slipping to the floor, and his expression softens. “Are you that bothered by my job?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in anticipation “Y-you knew?”

“It took some thinking,” he chuckles and stops to stabilize you back on the ground, keeping his distance, “are you grossed out by me?”

You became still as a lamp post, jumping between the thought of denying everything or putting it all out in the open. He was into you, you were definitely into him, there shouldn’t be a problem.

“I found you by accident. I didn’t mean to invade a private space of yours…When I found out, it was too late at that point.”

“I see. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his head with an uncomfortable grin, “I figured I’d be caught sooner or later. Just didn’t think I’d be so soon.”

“Look, you have a job you enjoy. I’m not going to take that away from you, Chan. It honestly doesn’t bother me. It probably pays more than that receptionist gig.”

“Right…So, how much have you seen?”

You sigh, approaching the cushion of his bed and making yourself home on the sheets. “More than I like to admit, especially to the star. Ha ha.”

Chan snickers, finally relaxing to see how aloof you become, and takes the spot next to you in bed. “I have time.”

You explain to him that in the past few days you’ve been in a sexual rut: not wanting do go out and meet other people, not wanting to go on apps, not wanting to make an effort, but still desperately craved sexual attention. That’s when you found Dino. Dino was alluring to you in a way that made you feel comfortable, yet wanted. Dino had a cheesy way with words, but nonetheless, he had a way with them. He feels inclusive and intimate, making you feel immersed in every recording posted on his site. He was talented in ways you could imagine with the last sexual partners you have and gave you the ultimate goal in the end every single time.

“I’m so flattered…and kinda exposed.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and pat him on the back. “You’re really good at it. I was impressed to say the least.”

“I’m assuming you caught last night's show too?”

Your cheeks began to pink. “Uh, yeah, that show.”

“I just want to say I don’t normally do that. It was a one time thing and I just…I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“D-don’t be, I was really surprised, but pleasantly,” you let out a nervous chuckle, “but I really didn’t think I had that effect on you.”

“Maybe just a little,” he admits with a shy smile, “And I even invited you. It’s stupid. If I knew you were watching—”

“I didn’t come over because it was a live show, not because I didn’t want to…do that with you.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Chan fiddles with his fingers before resting it close to yours, your pinkies making skin contact. “So, you wanted to?”

You shrug, having a hard time meeting his eyes as you glowed like a fresh tomato. “I don’t know, maybe, kind of…I didn’t want to start something that could ruin what we have, you know?”

“Right,” he nods, “I get that. The last thing us roommates need is a complicated situation.”

“Exactly. It felt only right to not do anything.”

Chan piques in wonder, readjusting himself in the mattress to lean forward in your direction. “Is it though?”

You scoff, glancing at him briefly. “Of course it is…isn’t it?”

His gaze drifts off towards your lips, flickering back to your eyes. A smile that resembles a Cheshire cat forms on his face, effectively luring you without any words. If he did ever decide to show his face, his income would multiply by ten folds. There was no way someone would be able to ignore a face like that. His lips begin to part, and you follow the shapes they make until your brain processes them into words.

“Do you really think that way?”

You let out light gasp, also surprised by how similarly his tone shifts into Dino and once again you’re hypnotized by his mere presence, making you think he could make you do almost anything.

“Don’t you?”

He shakes his head confidently, a soft giggle escapes his lips. “You’re so cute.”

You clear your throat. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” his body turns completely to sit up parallel to you, “You don’t know how much I’m trying to control myself right now.”

“Then don’t,” you respond curtly, “I can handle myself.”

He nods. “I’ll take your word for it.”

His lips fit around yours in an instant. He moves with assertion. You were completely under his spell, unwaveringly in his possession. His hand moves to cup your face, his tongue finding easy entry after biting down on your bottom lips. The top of his nose tickles yours and you find yourself grasping his sides. Your legs pull up from the floor and anchor on his sheets. Chan’s free arm moves to take hold of your waist, forcing you chest to chest.

He parts from your lips reluctantly. He stares back at your half open eyes as if waiting for you to tell him to stop. When you’re the one to lean in and match his rhythm from moments before, he’s the one to give in to you. He melts into you until you’re one. You collapse underneath him and he strokes your hair so sweetly. How he kisses is between a starved man and a long time lover; comforting but exciting all at once.

His hand trails beneath your shirt, shivers running up your spine. You feel his smile against your lips as he hums to himself gleefully. “You’re so pretty underneath me, Kitten.”

“You figured that out too?” You laughed nervously.

“I had a feeling. Is that what you like being called? Kitten?”

You caught your lower lip between your teeth. “Not really, but I don’t mind it when you say it.

“Really,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, nuzzling his nose against yours, “that makes me happy to hear.”

His lips fall against your cheeks in peppery kisses then down your jaw, biting and sucking against the untouched skin until it glowed red and purple. His hand at the same time lands on your thigh, massaging your skin. Smoothly, his hands in a cupping shape drags two fingers over your clothed cunt, chuckling darkly into your skin as you gasp. “Fuck Chan.”

He pushes himself up and makes home underneath your pants, achingly closer to the arousal that soaked your underwear. A thin layer of it spreads on the pads on his fingers, pushing them in with the layer of underwear in between. Your abdomen tenses up, but that’s how you knew he did it right. At the same time, his hand traces your jaw before prying it open your lips with his fingers. You let them slip inside your mouth with ease, quick to close around his digits, to which Chan let them pump inside your mouth. He grips your jaw with the rest of his hand, emulating you being full in both ends.

“You like that? You like it when I put my fingers in your mouth?”

You bob your head to nod, feeling his fingers plunge harder into your core as a reward. You moan loudly around the fingers in your mouth, and feel him drag his crotch over your thigh, getting himself off. You are overwhelmed to say the least but not unsatisfied. “You look like you’d do anything I want, am I right about that kitten?”

You nod again, subtle squirming at the height of your excitement.

“Then why don’t you make yourself comfortable and sit on my face for me, hmm? And you can return the favor for me if you like.”

He pulls away from you to give you space. He undresses himself from his plain white tee down to his sweatpants and soon after you follow suit. You ogle at the appearance of his sweat glistening torso, able to trace every deep toned structure by memory, and then match the level of his cock, pointing plainly in your direction, almost screaming at you to touch it.

“Is kitten getting distracted? You need some help undressing?”

He chuckles at your speechless state and comes to your aid. He lifts your shirt from your body, his confidence faltering at your beautiful flushed skin underneath as he looks at you in amazement. His hand glides your slide, thumbing over your erect nipples to see then get harder he squeezed. Pulling away from the trance, he smiles before lowering down and pulling off your pants and underwear, unveiling a glistening beauty that was your cunt. He could feel his mouth watering already.

“I want to eat you out so bad,” he says breathlessly.

Your blood pumping at his words, making you pull Chan flat on the bed. He lays sprawled out with a smile, he beckons you with a simple gesture, and before you know it, you lower yourself over his mouth, tempted by the cock that stood tall in front of you. You feel him kiss along your inner thigh, mouthing at your folds, until that while his smile engorges on your entrance. His thumbs spread you apart and feel your heart flutter at his pace. He had yet to use his tongue but skills did all the talking. You grab hold of his strong, reliable thighs and flatten your body on his.

You hold his shaft for the first time and laugh nervously. “Wow, I’m seeing it in person.”

“I hope I can exceed your expectations,” he chuckles into your heat.

First you take in the shape with your eyes, pristine and perfect just like on screen, then your mouth. You fit half of it inside the best you could, all while drowning to the sound of Chan’s wet love making to your soaked pussy, and bob face down on his length. You lube him with your saliva, transparent ribbons stretching as you pull away. Your hand cups his balls, kneading them like dough, adjusting to his size all too naturally.

While Chan had a delicious time, he grew increasingly aware how better you were at this than he imagined. This only encourages him more, his arms loop around your legs, pulling your body toward him roughly. He flicks his tongue in sharp licks and occasionally switches to devouring its inside like a gourmet meal. His nose buried deep into you, rubbing against the bud of your clit, playful pants leaving his lips.

“Mmh, Chan. Like that please…” you plead.

His nails dig into the flesh of your ass, licking fats and harsh stripes before letting you close up around his tongue. He explores you like he would a venture, ambrosia on his taste buds. On the other hand, you feel the need to catch up. You swallowed his girth, pushing it in deeper, and grind up on Chan’s face. When you reach his base, his hips come to aid, thrusting into your mouth with no remorse. You stabilize yourself on his stomach and let him hit the back of your throat senselessly. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, vibrating around him from your moans, tears start to swell up in your eyes.

Your muffled voice would echo from the walls, bouncing off every surface, before you came in his mouth, twitching enough that he forces you down on him. He drove you insane with what could do, driving you to pull your mouth off him to gasp for air, it all became too much, but not unwelcome. “P-please cum in my mouth, Chan. I want it so bad.”

Chan lets his mouth rest for a moment, takes the opportunity to take in oxygen and leaves you a last order before he dives back in. “Then put it back in your mouth for me, kitten.”

You do as you're told and force it down your throat, letting it hit far back in your uvula with your thrust until he pours inside you. Your eyes snap shut. You close the opening of your mouth to not let a single drop go to waste. Your cheeks inflate from lack of capacity and you're forced to swallow down what you’ve reined in. You fall to your side on the bed and Chan manages to pull himself up to lock eyes. A sweaty disheveled mess, Chan smiles in bliss seeing how fucked out you’ve become just for him. His fingers land on your lips and gently pull them apart to see your clean work. You stick your tongue plainly out in response, smiling just as bright as he was.

“Tired already?” He teases.

“Maybe, just...how do you do it? For hours on end too?”

“I just know what I’m doing, kitten. Don’t worry about the next round, I’ll do all the work,” he crawls on top of you, smoothing your frayed hair, “and while we’re at it, I can turn a camera on and we can have a little something to ourselves.”

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

I See You

Fandom: Dardevil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Plus Size! Fem Identifying! Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: E - 18+ Only - Smut

Warnings: Smut, religious overtones, grinding, dry humping, choking/hand around throat kink, body insecurities, lots of pet names (good girl, sweetheart), slightly possessive Matt at the end? 

Summary: Your relationship with Matthew is...complicated. You’re together, but not officially. You start to wonder why he even bothers when you don’t look like the women he’s been with in the past. You worry that if he could see you, he’d have never chosen you. Matt has a different definition of sight.

Notes: This wasn’t supposed to be smut, butttttt here ya’go. 

Also before people go ‘why do people always write insecure plus size readers?? I’m not insecure!’. I’m fat, i’m a fat writer, okay and I want to explore some of my personal unresolved insecurities and have some reassurance back. No matter how confident I am, there are still things I use writing to work through. Don’t like it, look at the warnings and don’t read it. I’m too old for you to try to police what’s written, if you want something else then go write it for yourself. 

“What’s wrong?” He can hear the way you shift on his couch at the question, the way your heart rabbits, faster and faster, how your breath seems shaky, unhappy, like you might cry at any minute. Matt can hear your teeth as they scrape across your lip, the swipe of your tongue across a tooth, an anxious habit of yours. He knows you, maybe better than you know yourself, something’s off. Something is wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong, Matt…” He’s watching you, in the only way Matt can, gaze turned in your direction, eyes unseeing, yet he seems to notice everything. You’re not fine. You know you're not, but it's…it's silly, nothing he should have to be burdened with. Not when he spends his days worrying over the law firm and trying to find new clients. He’s got enough on his plate with Karen’s case, let alone you. 

“Please don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”  He can hear your heart going a mile a minute, can hear you biting at your nails, an anxious habit of yours that you’ve been trying very hard to break the entire time he’s known you. 

Your relationship with Matt is complicated. Friends first and then…and then after years of watching him pick up different women in college, charming them with just a smile, after all that, finally he seemed to notice you as more than just a friend. You hadn’t put a label on it yet, hadn’t said a word to Foggy, but neither of you were seeing other people. You spent more time at his than at your own. You slept in his arms most nights and saw him every day of the week. Friends didn’t kiss and friends certainly didn’t tumble into bed together time after time or iron the other’s suits or run them a bath when they were hurting. Friends didn’t buy each other flowers or leave hickeys on the other’s neck.

“It’s silly, Matt…it’s not something you should have to worry about. It’s okay.” It’s so stupid, so juvenile. Not something you really want to discuss with your not quite, not really a boyfriend, boyfriend who’s a lawyer and so bloody adult and mature. Who’s been with so many wonderful women before you. Who can probably do better than you…

You watch him bridge the distance between the two of you, how he knows his apartment effortlessly, navigates around the coffee table with ease before standing just in front of you. Your hands come up to stop him just short, so he doesn’t trip over your feet and Matt grabs them, uses them to pull you up and bring you close. Chest to chest, feet toe to toe. His hands are so warm, yours feel icy cold, the tips always are. 

“It’s not silly if it’s you. I want to know what’s wrong, so maybe I can…maybe I can help.” He squeezes your hands tight, three times, a ritual of his these days, “Talk to me.” Matt loves you, he knows he does. He’s liked you for years, the friend he always found too lovely, too kind, too gentle, too funny, too tempting. He’d made an effort to keep the feelings at bay, to resist that pull he had towards you, for years, too worried to lose you entirely…he wishes he’d not wasted the time, but he did and now…now he needs you to understand that you matter to him. That he’s not here for a quick fuck that goes absolutely nowhere. He’s done and that’s not what he wants from you. He wants to hear what you have to say, to ease your troubles. He wants it all.

There’s a long silence that falls between you, except it’s not really silent at all. Your heart is still pounding in his ears, your breathing still shaky and nervous. Matt rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs, rhythmic, back and forth in a way he knows is calming for you. Can hear how your heart gets a little slower, a little quieter as he does it. He’s patient. He can wait for you to tell him. 

“I can’t…I can’t help but think about all the…all the women before me.” All the women you’ve seen Matt flirt with over the years. All the women he’s charmed, taken into his bed and kicked out the next morning, or brought back to his bed time and time again. No matter how much it hurts. They were all…they were beautiful. Pretty. Tall. Slim. Model types. The sort you think should be on the cover of a magazine or acting in a movie with their perfect silky hair and their gleaming eyes and…you’re not. 

You’ve worked hard over the years to grow more confident and you're frustrated at yourself for thinking it, for doubting that he likes you, that you’re pretty enough, when he’s given you no reason to doubt him. When he tells you you’re beautiful and holds you close. When he’s stopped flirting with others and focused his attention solely on you. You shouldn’t doubt him, but maybe you doubt yourself. 

Matthew stays quiet, knowing his interruptions won’t help. He needs to hear it all, to understand before he tries to say anything. He wants to interrupt though, to get in first and tell you they don’t matter, not like you matter. That you’ve got him wrapped so tightly around your little finger, there’s likely to be no circulation there, no blood at the tip anymore. 

“Foggy…Foggy..” You love Foggy but he always talks, and talks and talks and he…he doesn’t realise that you and Matt are anything more than friends. So he makes those jokes still, when they have a pretty client or there’s a beautiful woman around. The jokes about how Matt’s probably going to charm his way into their skirts and…he never made those jokes about you… “He’s always making those jokes about how…how you always seem to pick up the hot women, the pretty ones even though you can’t see them and I…I know it’s silly, but…I…”

Matt presses forward, forehead pressing against your own, the tip of his nose pressing into your cheek, “You?”. He knows where this is going. He can’t see you. He can’t tell you how beautiful you are, not convincingly because how would he know? He’s never seen your face or your body, not with his own two eyes. 

“I’m not a model, Mattie. I’m not tall or slim or leggy like Karen, I don’t have my shit together half the time and I don’t always wear the nicest clothes and my hair isn’t shiny and flawless. I’m fat and I’m a little clumsy and I have this one spot on my chin that won’t go away. I…I don’t know why you picked me because if you could see me…” You take a shuddering breath and he has to close his eyes because it hurts. It hurts deep in his chest, what you're saying because he knows where it’s going and because the self-doubt, the negativity is painful to hear from someone he loves so much.

“If you could see me I worry that you wouldn’t have looked at me twice…and I worry that this isn’t serious for you, that…that i’m just the next thing on the list.” He’s not your boyfriend, but it feels like he is and every time Foggy reminds you that Matt goes through women like he changes shirts…it makes you question why he’s even entertaining you and how serious he even is about it. When he reminds you of the type of women Matt usually picks up, you look at yourself in the mirror and pick yourself apart. You're the biggest woman he’s ever been with and you wonder why you? Why not someone else?

“I can see you.” When he opens his eyes they’re glistening with tears to match your own, “Not with my eyes, but I can see you. I know the shape of you from my hands,” He presses them to your cheeks, finger tips roaming over your skin brushing away your tears and following your features, mapping them out to himself. The softness of your cheeks, that pudge underneath your chin, how your cheeks dimple when you smile wide, the width and tilt of your nose. The slight scar you have from running into a table corner at the age of two. 

“I know how you feel underneath me, wrapped around me. How your body dips and curves.” His hands trail down your neck, over your sides to your waist, press against the dips and rolls of your torso, “I know your stomach jiggles when you laugh, how your thighs press around me when we’re in bed.” He follows the curve of your stomach, and the width of your thighs. You’re breathless, unable to do much but watch and listen as he catalogues each part of you that he can’t see but still knows in depth. 

“I know the warmth of you wrapped around my cock when we fuck and the taste of you on my tongue.” He tugs you closer by the hips, his thigh slotting between your own, pressing against your cunt through layers of fabric. Matt presses his lips to the shell of your ear as if someone might overhear, even when he can barely hear himself, the sound of your heart beating so loudly in his ears that it feels like his own.

“I know how flushed and warm you get when I call you sweetheart and how you twist away from me when you're about to cum.” His hands stay at your hips and they rock you, back and forth, back and forth, urging you to grind against his leg like this is some perverse prayer to you. Maybe it is? Or maybe Matt doesn’t know another way to make you realise he desires every bit of you, that he hasn’t settled.

“Mattie..” You’re breathless and unsure and so confused and warmed all at once. His words are sweet and dirty and terrible, but wonderful. You feel seen, but find yourself zoning in and out of his words as he presses against your cunt and encourages you to grind back. The muscles in his thigh flex and tense as his voice grows deeper, grittier, a growl in the back of his throat. 

“I know the sound of your voice, when it's sad, happy, angry or hoarse from screaming my name. I know when you’ve been crying and when you’re starting to get sick because your voice cracks just the tiniest amount. I know you bite your nails when you’re anxious and that you constantly play with your hair. I know your toes curl when I call you a good girl and that you can’t help but dig your nails into my back…” Something you’re doing in that exact moment, your hands had found their way to the back of his t-shirt, nails digging into him like you might fall otherwise, anchoring yourself, as your clit catches on the fabric between the two of you and your whole body burns with the feeling of him.

“Matthew…Wh…” A warm, large hand wraps around your throat, it’s so gentle despite it’s placement. Just a little squeeze, just to the sides of your throat, enough to make your blood sing and your centre throb. It’s a moment of realisation. That he knows you, that he can pull and pick you apart and no amount of sight changes that. That he doesn’t need to see you to know you’re fat. To know you’re beautiful to him. To know who you are. 

Matthew's breath is warm across your lips as he stops to press a kiss to your mouth, he tastes like his particular brand of bitter coffee, and toothpaste. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he forces himself away with a groan at the feel of your cunt dampening the clothes between the two of you. Slick and hot and he wants to be the only one to ever touch you like this again for the rest of your life. To pledge himself to you. 

“I know the sound of your heartbeat, I can hear it wherever I go. I can pick yours out of a line-up, individual, unique, you. The same way I could pick your perfume out of a thousand others. I know you. I see you and what I see…” You can’t breathe, head tilted back by his hand, as his other rocks your hips against his leg firm and steady. You can barely focus on his words, that coil in your stomach so tight, as tight as your eyes are closed. The warmth between your thighs burning, broiling, blinding. You’re certain Matt is the only thing keeping you upright as you jerk against him thoughtlessly, seeking the orgasm you know he can always draw out of you. Like you’re his favourite instrument to play.  

“What I see I love. If I had my sight I'd still pick you. I’d still love you. Jesus…Sometimes I wish I could see because I know that I'd cherish every second of that image, burn it into my mind forever. You're my girl. You're my good girl and no one can ever compare to you.” The hand on your throat tightens, a buzzing loud in your ear as you gasp against his touch, your hips jerking suddenly at the sensation. 

“Matt…” God, he loves your whine, deep in the back of your throat like you can’t help yourself, can’t cope with all the feelings inside you. 

“I’ve got you, cum for me, sweetheart. C’mon, I know you can do it, just.” He grits his teeth and his hand slips inside your panties, deft fingers finding your clit from memory. “A little.” You try to writhe away from him at the feeling, too sensitive too much, but Matt keeps you close, fingers circling, pressing. “Bit.” Your nails dig deeper into his back, a small price to pay for the sound of your moan and the slick wetness against his fingers. “More.” The hand on your throat tightens as he twists your clit one last time, your body going boneless melting against him as you cum.

His name sounds like a song when you do, the way you toss your head back underneath his hand and gasp it to the empty air of his apartment like some sort of psalm. He works you through it, fingers careful of the sensitivity between your legs, before lowering you back onto his couch and joining you.

Matt wraps himself around you, your plush softness a balm to his soul as he presses kisses to your throat. 

You try to reach back for his cock, to relieve him of the hardness between his legs but he just takes your hand in his own, “This is about you, not me.” He lets you catch your breath again, lets you relax into him and find some semblance of sanity.

“I love you, sweetheart. Maybe, I've not been clear enough. But, I love you and I want you to be mine and only mine, for as long as you’ll have me. I see you and I think you’re the most breathtaking woman I've ever known.”

“Does this…does this mean…” You don’t want to say the words, to get your hopes up, even after he’s said the biggest three of them all. Even after he’s made it quite clear his interest is more than fleeting.

Matt can’t help but chuckle at you, hand tilting your chin to the side so you can see his face, even if he can’t see yours. His cheeks are flushed red, his grin endearing as it shows off his dimples and adds warmth to his brown eyes, “Be my girlfriend?”

“Really?”

“Be my girlfriend?” He repeats himself. More serious than he’s ever been as his thumb brushes the soft apple of your cheek. He knows he’s had a reputation in the past, relationships not really his thing but…but he wants this, wants you. 

“Yeah, of course, yes!” His nose brushes against yours, nuzzling into you, grinning wide. His fingers find the corners of your mouth and trace your own smile, the way it matches his, blinding and brilliant. Your heart is still fast, but it’s different, not the fast pace of an anxious beat, but giddy to match your grin. 

“I’ll have a word with Foggy…but I do see you. In my own way and I love everything I see, even when you yell at me for losing my cane.” 

“I don’t know how you lose so many of them…” You swear you need a separate budget just for the amount you have to replace them, you’re not sure where they end up, but they’re never found again. 

“I’m forgetful?”

“Mmm, sure you are Murdock.” You brush a kiss to his cheek, stubble scratching against your lips and Matt can’t help but lean in, press towards you like a sunflower that’s finally found daylight.  “Do you love me?”

It’s a question that makes you realise you never said back. That you’d left him without an answer for such strong feelings, but it’s an easy answer to conjure up, rolling off your tongue without a single thought or hesitation. 

“Yeah, I love you…why else would I iron your shirts? You know I hate ironing.”

You watch as Matt throws his head back and laughs, a deep rumble in his chest and you know he means it when he says he loves you, that you’re it for him.

[bad-luck-clover]

SPOILERS FOR STRANGER THINGS SEASON 4 VOL. 2

Okay I haven’t posted in forever but but I was literally crying this morning over the Stranger Things Finale before I even watched it so here are my two cents:

Why the fuck is the message of season 4 “don’t be honest about who you are or what you’re struggling with or it’ll hurt/kill you no matter what you do?” Because that’s the point this finale seemed to make.

Will started to open up to Mike about his feelings, albeit in a very indirect way, and that just resulted in Mike pursuing El even further. And even after all of that Mike and El still aren’t actually talking and Will has still been demoted from main character and plot catalyst to the sad gay side character that’s sometimes a monster detector??? So I guess Will just has to continue hiding who he is while he watches his sister and friend/crush continue their codependent and ultimately stagnant relationship and he’s once again being tossed aside in favor of a character that was supposed to die season 1. I mean I love El, but come on, they’re treating Will like he’s completely irrelevant now.

Max started coming to terms with her trauma and mental health, started opening up to her friends finally and was rekindling her relationship with Lucas. She was obviously hurting after Billy died and it was even mentioned that she was suicidal, but she fought to stay alive and get back to her friends who she loves. It was such an obvious metaphor of battling mental illness and Max’s character arc in the first part of the season was so amazing to watch. But no, apparently it doesn’t matter if you fight through the struggles of mental illness and seek help from your support group, the trauma monster is just gonna torture and literally break you anyway, sorry.

And Lucas, despite finally standing up to Jason after trying so hard to fit in and be part of his group, got beat up and then watch the girl he clearly loves be mutilated right in front of him and then put into a coma.

I mean even Robin, who’s still understandably deep in the closet, started to open up a tiiiiiiny bit and had hope for her potential relationship with Vickie and then immediately saw her kissing a guy. But the second she gives up on that and steps a bit further back in the closet? Oh, Vickie broke up with him, thanks for not coming out Robin, you get a cookie.

And Eddie. I do not understand how they could kill the one character who was always 100% unapologetically himself the entire time we saw him. He was labeled a freak and later a psychotic devil-worshipping murderer and yet he never changed who he was to please anyone or even lashed out at the people who wanted to hurt him. Not to mention he’s queer-coded as hell and I seriously doubt that was unintentional. I mean if you’re writing a period show and you do research about 80s culture and especially subcultures and outcasted groups for Eddie specifically, why would you give his character a black bandana in his back pocket if you’re not trying to imply that he’s queer? He was always true to who he was, he protected the kids who reminded him of himself when they were lost and being picked on. He was nice to everyone as long as they weren’t an asshole and he ultimately fought to save his friends and all the people who hated him. And what did he get? He got brutally, painfully killed while the entire town still believed he was a monster and no one besides Dustin and his uncle, not even the other people he fought with in the upside down, mourned or even acknowledged him.

It’s so infuriating that Max and Will (and Robin and Lucas to a lesser extent) suffered and were hurt because they were beginning to open up. But Eddie has always been open and nothing was going to make him start pretending to be someone else so he just straight up died. The one person who was always honest and never lied about who he was and they killed him for shock value. Like am I just reading into this too much or does that literally send a message of “if you start to open up you’ll get hurt. And don’t even try to fully be your true self, because look what’ll happen”

And yeah, sometimes life is cruel and you get hurt unjustly for just being who you are. But this is a fictional tv show where children fight off monsters. A show who’s main audience are the very outcasts they’re now sidelining and killing off in favor of more conventionally “typical” characters. I relate to Will, Robin, Max, and Eddie the most out of all these characters and now I’m being made to watch them suffer for all the reasons I relate to them so much.

Mike and El are still in a pretty unhealthy and unbalanced relationship and they’re fine. Jonathan and Nancy are still lying to each other and refusing to communicate and they’re fine. Steve, as much as I love him, is still pining after Nancy without actually directly talking to her (which, sidenote, is just a huge disservice to his otherwise fantastic character arc imo) and yeah he’s hurting seeing her with Jonathan again but he’s ultimately fine. The only people who really suffered are the only ones who have stopped lying about who they are or what they’re struggling with or who never did so in the first place.

How can you write the line “Forced conformity, that’s what’s killing the kids. That’s the real monster” and then punish the handful of characters who are trying to break away from that conformity? Why the hell, in a show that used to be all about outcasts forming relationships and fighting monsters against all the odds not in spite of being different, but because they’re different, are those very characters being hurt and punished for not being like everyone else?

Like, I’m just so fed up and tired. This show is legitimately ruined for me now, and it’s not because a character I liked died or the ship I was rooting for didn’t happen. It’s because I look at these characters I relate to being tormented and hurt for being queer or neurodivergent or having trauma, things that I experience/struggle with myself, and the message I hear is “What you are is wrong and bad things will happen to you because of it. You deserve to hurt because of what you are and you will never be safe or happy.” And that fucking kills me, especially since this was a show I loved so much just yesterday and now I can’t even stand to watch it.

[glystenangel]

Come home, I miss you

Nanami x Afab!Reader Oneshot

tags/warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, phone sex, praise kink, voice kink, slight dom/sub, dirty talk and swearing, unsafe driving practices hinted at (don’t do this irl), established relationship vibes but I didn’t put a label on it lol (((((nanami gives me big fiancé energy tho boyfriend seems too juvenile for him)))))

summary: Nanami’s working late, so you give him a call

~1.1k 

“You know, when I hear your voice, I can’t help but want to do things to you. Keep talking.”

You bite back a smile as silence fills the other side of the line.

Nanami’s pause finally ends when he sighs, “How am I supposed to keep working if you say that?”

Tonight he's working late and you had initially called just to check when he would be coming home, but the deep hum of his voice in your ear is giving you other ideas.

“I don’t know, how are you supposed to keep working?”

Another sigh, “I have to finish this. Be good.”

The soft command in his tired voice only makes you want him more, and you’re sure he is doing it on purpose. You hadn’t heard the shuffling of papers or his pen scribbling down calculations in minutes. Nanami knows exactly how easily he turns you on, though you’re fairly certain he’s no better than you are. He was probably already hard from what you said, imagining you waiting for him with your back arched against the edge of the couch and wantonly pressing your hips into your fingertips.

You were actually doing just that, tugging down your pants and massaging the damp arousal building between your thighs, “You can go faster if you like.”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” He gripes, voice low and making a shiver go up your spine. Rustles of fabric come through the phone as he leans back in his seat to palm a hand over the tented cloth of his suit pants. Your heart swells at picturing the blond man with stern features ignoring his work just for you.

“I’m sorry, was that mean of me?” There’s a coy whine in your voice, and you lean harder into the pads of your fingers swiping at your slippery folds.

“Yes, especially since I know you’re touching yourself.” You can hear the strain in his voice, how irritation and want are clenched in his jaw.

“I would never try to distract you like that.” You effortlessly insert a couple of digits into your slick pussy, holding back a gasp at the heady sensation.

Nanami’s cadence is laced with a slight pant, “Liar. How does it feel?”

You can make out the subdued sounds of him starting to stroke his cock, the squeak of his chair and his breaths forming a consistent pattern.

“R-really good.” You confess, beginning to fuck yourself in earnest. You tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder, using your remaining hand to eagerly play with your perked tits.

“Hm, being honest now?” He’s breathing harder now, and you love the grit of his voice as he gets more worked up from listening to the wet sounds of your deprived pussy.

“I like to be good for you.” You concede, letting out an involuntary mewl when you hear him curse under his breath.

“You always are. Always feel so good. I can never get enough.” 

“Really?”

At this point, you want to kiss him so badly that you feel like you’re going to go crazy.

“Yes, the absolute fucking best. What are you doing now?” He asks, and you almost forget to answer him, too distracted from visualizing him feverishly pumping at his cock.

“Two fingers.” You quickly say, fastening your pace.

“That’s cute, you know that’s not enough.” He scolds, and you readily insert another finger at his words. However, it’s still not enough, even as your pussy greedily squeezes around them.

“Nanami, I can’t- need your dick.” You plead, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” He instantly replies, groaning at your desperation.

“Come home, please.”

“I’m almost done. Besides, aren’t you doing a good job all by yourself?” A throaty chuckle weaves itself into his speech.

You smirk, slowing to slap your fingers against your dripping entrance, “Are you?"

“Fuck.” He nearly growls and you notice his rhythm is thrown off from your taunt.

You begin circling your clit with fervor, bouncing against the couch cushions, “Admit it, you’d rather be here with me, warming your cock in my pussy. Isn’t that right Nanami?”

You know you’ve made him snap when his voice comes out eerily calm, firm, and filled with insatiable rage, “As soon as I get home, I’m going to fuck you stupid.”

You slide your fingers back into your dribbling pussy, breathlessly fucking yourself with renewed vigor, “Mhm?”

“Can’t wait to feel you soaking my cock and whining in my ear.” He almost chokes on the words, and your stomach flutters at the crude noises as he furiously fists at his cock.

“Nanami please-” You whimper, plunging your fingers deeper and drenching them in your excitement.

He interrupts you with impatience, “And you’re going to take it, exactly like you should. Like you deserve. Aren’t you?”

“I deserve it. I’ll take it.” You can already feel him pounding into you, pressing you down and stuffing you so tight that you lose the ability to speak or think.

“Yeah? Are you going to be good for me?” He rasps.

“Fuck-hah, Nanami-” You’re deliriously rutting into your fingers now, eyes rolling back.

“Answer me.”

“I’m good. I’ll be good.” You promise, feeling your inner thighs begin to shake.

“You’re close aren’t you?” He grunts, and you can tell he’s done holding back as well.

“Yes!” You wail, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Come for me, want you nice and wet when I come home.”

You can hardly reply, too lost in his rich voice and the intense urge to cum.

Nanami’s mutters wash over you as you reach your limit, “Shit, I can hear everything.” 

“Nanami, I’m coming! I’m-”

“Me too, oh fuck-”

You cry out incoherently as the ecstasy shoots through your body, Nanami’s moans and your unrestrained whimpers passing through the phone until your respective orgasms fade away.

You wince as you pull out trembling fingers, your release staining the fabric beneath you, “Nanami?”

The noticeable effort it takes to steady his breaths isn’t lost on you, “Hm? You made a mess of yourself didn’t you?”

You stay silent and stretch your fingers out, watching the cum glisten in threads before leisurely running your tongue over the milky fluid.

Nanami can’t seem to take the almost imperceptible sounds of you licking at your cum, “Hold on, I’m coming home. stay right there.”

The crinkle of papers as he packs and the clink of his keys brings your attention back to him.

“Are you really coming?”

“I’m in the car now.” He reassures you, and a grin stretches across your lips.

“Nanami?”

The rush of his tires and turn signal clicks echo in your ear as he huffs out a response, “Yes?”

“Do you think you can make me cum one more time before you get here?”

________________

End Notes:

oY OY NANAMI OY OY OY OY~ everyone’s favorite Businessman™ and one of mine😮‍💨🤌💞💞 had him and phone sex on the brain lately, sooooo ya

hope you enjoyed! thanks for reading<3

[gingersnaaps]

too much of a good thing

he's so sweet, so kind, so dumb - is bokuto really capable of anything besides the best intentions?

wc: ~2.7k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon sex to noncon creampie, manipulation, lovebombing and then neglect, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, a lil angst, timeskip!bokuto, fem!reader with inner genitals

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Being subtle was never really Bokuto’s thing, not even in the beginning.

In some ways, you suppose that you’re lucky - that you’re better off than your friends who you would always hear complaining, muttering about boys who didn't like to commit, didn’t like labels, who didn’t like texting first or buying gifts or putting in any effort at all.

Barely a week into your relationship, you come home from work with your head dizzy and feet aching from exhaustion, and discover a dozen bouquets of roses on your doorstep. Crimson petals are littered everywhere, strewn against the grey concrete of the steps, and although you feel your neck and face heating up with embarrassment at the grand gesture, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

He really was so sweet. Who cares if he wasn’t exactly shy about expressing it?

None of the other guys you’ve dated before had sent you good morning texts quite like his, filled with exclamation points and emojis, and none of them had tried nearly as hard as Bokuto does with his breathy, eager i love you’s, his frequent hugs whenever he gets the chance to see you, or even his phone calls that come twice, three times, even four times in the middle of the day.

But the more days that pass by, the more intense it gets.

He picks you up after work all the time, cupping your face in his hands, eyes gleaming almost unnaturally bright. “I love you,” he’ll whisper. “You’re so wonderful, baby. You’re perfect. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You can’t help but think that these are the sort of words that come months into a relationship, if not years, but… there’s nothing really wrong with what he’s doing, is there? There’s no reason you should be uneasy, no indication of even the slightest hint of trouble on his part.

You’re probably just paranoid.

Bokuto doesn’t stop at words, though - he earns a good sum of money from his job playing professional volleyball, and he’s never hesitant to use it on you. A week after he leaves you the roses, he asks you out on a date to a restaurant you know is ridiculously expensive, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you scroll through pictures of the establishment on Google Images.

“I don’t think I can afford it, Bo,” you tell him, voice hesitant and crackly over the phone. “If we go, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“So?”

It’s just a word, but the implication isn’t lost on you. And if he’s fine with paying for you, if he’s okay with the hundreds of dollars you’ll be owing him, well - there’s no good reason to turn him down, right?

During the date, you talk with him as you spoon bites of delicate food into your mouth. The restaurant is too lavish, the plush velvet carpeting and crystal chandeliers almost a parody of luxury. You’re pretty sure the utensils are half the price of your rent.

He leans over in the middle of the meal, expression suddenly serious. “You’re enjoying this, right?” he asks.

“I am. I’m kinda lucky, aren’t I? Being spoiled like this.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his grin so bright it could rival the sun. “You really are.”

And suddenly - just for a moment - you catch a glimpse of something slightly off about his whole expression, as if it was a mask waiting to be ripped off to reveal something much, much different underneath, but the fleeting moment is gone so quickly you convince yourself that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Bokuto has been nothing if not perfect, after all. If you’re uneasy, it’s probably just because you aren’t used to being treated like this, aren’t used to someone that lavishes you with constant gifts and praise and displays of affection like he does. On the way back in the taxi, he whispers everything he loves about you softly in your ear, his arm snaking around your waist as his thumb rubs tender circles into your skin. His body is pressed so close to yours, his breath gently tickling your ear, warmth radiating out from his firm, muscled body.

He’s so good to you.

-

It doesn’t last forever.

Bokuto’s affection dries up slowly, but his presence has been such a constant in your life that it’s impossible for you not to notice.

Some mornings, you find yourself waking up to a hollow feeling in your chest as you check your message notifications and find nothing - no late night rants, no funny pictures, no enthusiastic, joyful good morning texts. During the day, the silence now stretches on for hours too long, uncomfortably empty and devoid of the persistent calls that you used to get every single hour.

When he does see you, he’s remarkably reserved - eyes always downcast, fingers fidgeting incessantly, clearly disinterested in what you’re doing, what you’re saying - in fact, disinterested in all of you.

Maybe he’s just busy with volleyball, you rationalize, but your stomach churns with anxiety and deep down, you know that something’s changed.

You try and ignore the dull ache inside of you that seems to follow you around wherever you go, a little voice inside your head constantly reminding you of what Bokuto used to do. Two months ago, he would’ve picked you up. He would’ve sent you flowers today. He would’ve taken you out to eat.

It builds up slowly and steadily, a crescendo of pain that grows in volume the longer he’s gone, like a tidal wave of confusion and hurt that swirls around inside you - until one day, you’re sitting by yourself in the car, sobbing quietly in the cramped darkness.

At least he doesn’t turn you away when you show up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are rimmed with red, streaks of eye makeup running down your face as a frown twists at his features. “Please, Bo,” you whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

And you’re not exactly sure what you did, but you want to fix it, want him back in your life, want to wake up to his smiles and his laughter and his incessant, boundless energy, and you know you’re willing to do anything to get that back.

“Really?” he asks, eyes glimmering faintly with hope.

You nod almost imperceptibly, about to reply yes, yes, want you back so bad, when he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls you in for a kiss so passionate it borders on harsh. It’s a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, a mix of sucking and licking and biting that leaves you gasping for breath, your red lips swollen and slick with spit.

He pulls you inside, his hands roaming all over your body, groping and squeezing at your supple flesh, goosebumps running down your spine as he brings a hand up to brush against your nipple. For the first time in weeks, you see excitement on his face, and his voice trembles as he leans close in. “Let me take care of you,” he says. “Wanna make you feel good.”

And even though there’s apprehension crawling under your skin at his sudden mood swing, you’re so, so glad this version of Bokuto is back that you brush off that hesitation, the mixture of happiness and anticipation overwhelming every single thought in your mind.

As his fingertips graze the soft skin of your torso, his hands - so much larger than yours - maneuver your body around with such ease and grace that you barely notice when you end up on his couch, legs spread wide open as he looks up from between your thighs hungrily. “I - fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, out of breath, eyes running over the swollen outline of your cunt.

You whimper softly as his nose brushes up against your clit, his piercing, golden eyes still gazing intently up at you.

He doesn’t waste any of his time teasing you, his flat of his tongue sliding up along your slit with the perfect amount of pressure to leave you squirming. It’s almost as if he knows exactly where to lick and suck, eagerly pressing his tongue up against your clit in insistent circles, lapping at your dripping pussy until your juices are running down his chin. He’s so eager in between your legs, and everytime he finds a spot that makes your legs tremble needily, he gives it so much attention that you already start to feel that wave of pleasure building in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, your hands sliding into his hair as your hips thrust upwards. “Please.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to tell him that. Shouldn’t have wasted your breath, he thinks idly, diving in and eating you out with renewed vigor.

When his tongue glides around your spasming cunt and dips in briefly, you can’t stop the moan that tumbles from your lips. His tongue is so stupidly long and flexible, sliding inside and licking at your sensitive walls, curling up and brushing against your g-spot until you start to shudder and tremble under him.

You cum embarrassingly quick, your hips jerking and stuttering wildly as he finishes you off. He fucks you through your orgasm, sucking gently at your clit until the border between pain and pleasure starts to blur and you’re moaning so loudly he thinks the neighbors will have complaints for him the next morning.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“How about another?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“I think you can handle it, right?” a huge grin splits his face as he spreads your pussy apart with two fingers, looking at your swollen, spent cunt. He barely gives your chance to respond before he trails his fingers against your lips, fingers teasing in and out of your slick entrance.

This time, Bokuto uses his hands to stretch you out, inserting his digits one by one until three of his thick, long fingers are nestled inside of your pussy. He thrusts them languidly in and out, his fingertips caressing your nerves until you’re tense and wound up for him again.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You can take it.”

Your brain is hazy from the stimulation, barely registering anything but pleasure as his fingers search and probe like they have some sort of job to do. You feel damp with heat and moisture, the pulsing, burning need in between your legs insistent and demanding.

“Almost there,” he breathes, voice raspy with arousal. A fourth finger brushes up against your lips, and the thought of more stretch, more stimulation, more pleasure, has you clenching desperately against the ones that your cunt is already spread out on.

You sob, your body strung out and wrecked, suspended on the tipping point of another orgasm.

As you cum again, the feeling of relief - white-hot and blinding - rips along your core. You’re not sure you’ve experienced anything quite so intense before, and as you look down at him, hands still manipulating your cunt so expertly, you don’t know if he has the intention of stopping anytime soon.

He stands up and your eyes drift to his cock, flushed purple and almost painfully hard, dripping with precum. His hand strokes along his shaft, soft curses muttered under his breath, but he opens them wide again and looks down at you sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice pleading. “I don’t have any condoms.”

Bokuto sounds so genuine, his tone kind and filled with regret, and guilt begins to sting at your conscience. He’s made you feel so fucking good, given you the best orgasms of your life - is it really fair if you leave him wanting and unsatisfied?

You’re fucked halfway out of your mind when you answer, eyes still fixated on his cock, head swimming with thoughts of how much you want to please him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your words slurred and hesitant. “You can.. you can use me. Use my pussy to get you off. Jus’ pull out at the end.”

Ecstasy flashes across his face, and he looks down eagerly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard those words for weeks.

His strong arms pick you up easily, maneuvering you around until he’s the one sitting on the couch and your cunt is positioned right over his dick. His hands grip tightly at your waist, fingertips pressing so insistently that you’re sure you’ll wake up the next morning with bruises dotting your skin. He lowers you down slowly, carefully, groaning as he fills you up and the warmth of your cunt envelopes him whole.

He already looked big, just from the cursory glance you’d taken earlier, but as you feel the tip of his cock shove against your cervix, your breath almost catches at how you feel your walls expanding to accommodate all of him.

The drag of his curved cock up against your sensitive walls leaves your legs trembling and squirming, but he holds you firmly down as he thrusts up inside over and over. “Stay still,” he coos. “Let me take care of you.”

Bokuto starts off gently, fucking you with shallow little thrusts that have you panting with desperation. He can tell by the way your cunt is fluttering that you're craving more, that the two orgasms he gave you earlier just wasn’t enough for a greedy girl like you, and he relishes the way your small hands grip desperately at his shirt.

He raises you up off his cock, running the tip up and down your slit until your pussy throbs, and slams you back down again. The rhythm he maintains is steady and even, bouncing you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, whispering stuttered curses and phrases of endearment against your ear, making you shiver from the overload of stimuli.

“Feels so amazing,” he moans. “Gonna.. Gonna cum soon.”

The heat in your core grows intense at the thought of his orgasm, involuntarily whining, and you start to rock your hips back and forth in an attempt to search out more friction.

Bokuto knows he promised to pull out. He knows that it wouldn’t be right if he stayed buried inside your cunt. But how is he supposed to stop himself when you feel this good, wrapped so obediently around him like a perfect little fuck doll? And the heat of your cunt is gripping incredibly tight all around his length, your little squirms and shivers so adorable as he uses you to get himself off.

He can’t help himself.

With one last, desperate thrust, he lets go, thick spurts of cum filling you up until he’s sure your insides are dripping white, and he caresses your stomach where your womb would be in satisfaction. It feels so good to cum inside of a tight cunt, much better than it would’ve if he’d forced himself to pull out, he thinks. And you look so pretty all full and leaking with his seed.

It takes you a moment to fully register the warm, wet feeling pooling inside you, your brain too fucked out, too stupid from the constant stimulation to truly understand what exactly dripping from your slit is.

When you do realize - oh god, he came inside me - panic starts to grip at the edges of your frayed nerves, your vision tunneling as the magnitude of what had just happened hits you. Tears start to blur the world around you, the dim lighting of his living room merging the furniture and warping the walls, and you faintly register the feeling of arms wrapped tight around you, a hand reaching up to caress soothingly at your cheek.

“You know,” Bokuto whispers, face lit up in wonder. “I think we’re soulmates.”

[enthusiasticharry]

Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author's note: ahhhh i don’t think i've ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you'd like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating... face-sitting... really just the whole shebang. 

masterlist    |   please speak to me about LTC here! 

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year. 

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed. 

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain. 

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once. 

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin. 

That all changed the second you walked into the party. 

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with. 

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now. 

You had met Harry a few years ago, when you had first moved to London and you were bar and pub hopping, singing and hoping that you’d somehow stumble upon someone who could help you start your career. It was completely by accident that you both had met, and looking back at it quite embarrassing on your part. You were in the middle of your set when he walked in, as well as Mitch and Sarah, but you hadn’t seen them at that point. You had recently learnt how to play Sign of the Times on the piano and you had purposely brought your small keyboard out with you so you could play the song. Looking back on it, you probably wouldn’t have sung the song if you did know that he was there, but you didn’t know so you sung it. It was a little shaky at the start due to your nerves about playing the song for the first time out of the comfort of your room but you quickly found your groove, and you finished strong. Harry had later told you that, after a little bit of teasing from Mitch and Sarah, he knew that from how in awe he was of you he just had to speak to you. He walked up to you whilst you were in the middle of throwing your celebratory shot back that you always take after finishing your set and the first thing you ever said to him was, “Fuck!” 

You always thought that would be a story you’d be able to tell your grandchildren, and you both had even spoken about it, but it just hadn’t worked out. 

He seemed okay, which you were happy about. His new album had just come out, and you don’t think you’ve ever cried at a record as you did at that one. You knew it was about you, it was hard not to. All of the little hints that he left throughout his songs would blow over anyone else head, but you knew the true meaning of them and you think that’s one of the reasons you found it so emotional. He was smiling as he spoke to the people, briefly taking sips of his drink every now and then, which was only water so you wondered whether he’d drove there. You both would be flying home soon, but this would be the first time in three years that you’d be flying home alone. 

To stop yourself from crying, you quickly make you way over to the bar. After running your eyes over the cocktail menu, your eyes immediately pricked at the sight of one, and you could stop the words as they left your lips: “A cherry bomb fizz please.” 

You watched as the bartender added a cherry and some maraschino liqueur, before topping the drink off with Champagne. The drink was quite sour, but you quite liked it. It caused your lips to purse and eyebrows to widen, in a good way you must add. 

“Could never handle your alcohol, could you?” 

You could feel him before you heard him, but you didn’t want to turn around. Why he felt it okay to come up and talk to you were unsure about, but at the same time you had been hoping that he would. Why you were hoping that he would you were also unsure about, but you’re certain it had something to do with the fact that you weren’t quite over him. 

“I think you’re mistaken.” You say, taking another sip of your drink, “You were the one who could never handle your alcohol. And this is just sour.” 

He hums, as though he isn’t believing a word that you say, “If you say so, love.” 

“Love?” You say, raising your eyebrow at him whilst throwing back the rest of your drink, “Thought those days were well over.” 

“Force of habit, ‘suppose.” He shrugs, “I have a few of them when it comes to you.” 

“You grew out of them.” I shrug, “Can’t remember the last time you called me love whilst we were together.” 

He drops his eyes to the counter, and you know you’ve done what you’re supposed to. This is the first time you’ve spoken to since you broke up, and you can’t believe that it’s at a Christmas party of all places. He also had the audacity to call you love, something that you couldn’t believe he had the balls to do. The last few months of your relationship you were lucky if he even looked at you, and here he now was calling you love as though it’s totally okay to do so.

“I’ll always call you love.” He says, lifting his eyes up from the counter to look at you once more, “I’ll always care about you.” 

“Where was this five months ago?” You ask, unable to stop yourself. 

Your break up, in your opinion, came out of nowhere. You knew something had changed in your relationship, since he hardy had the time for you at the end of your time together. He’d get up in the morning and wouldn’t touch, or even kiss you. Then, when he’d come home it would be the exact same thing, he’d slip into bed and to stop yourself from feeling as though you were going to cry, you’d pretend you were asleep and hope that you’d actually fall asleep. He never told you a reason for breaking up with you, apart from that he needed space and that he couldn’t be with you. That was probably the thing that hurt you the most. He broke up with you, but you never really had a real reason why. 

“I just needed to leave.” He says, “That was my main focus.” 

You try to ignore your heart breaking all over again but it’s hard to, when it’s the only thing you can think about. 

“Why now?” You say, “Why are you doing this now?” 

“YN—”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m going to go.” 

“Don’t—”

“—YN!” You feel an arm thrown around your shoulder, one that you immediately realise is Jeff once you register his voice and his face once you turn to him, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?” 

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk. From the slight slurring of his words, to the smell of alcohol on his breath as he speaks. You’re just as shocked to see him as he is to see you. 

“I’m good, Jeff, thanks.” You smile, at him, trying to push the conversation you’ve just had with his friend out of your mind, “How are you?” 

“I’m drunk.” He laughs, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “But! I’s nice to see you two together again!” 

The whole ignoring the situation doesn’t quite go to plan. Once he’s said those words you immediately draw your eyes towards Harry. You’ve never wanted to leave a conversation as much as you did this one. You look at Harry, but he isn’t looking at you. 

He gasps, “You should come over to the table! We’re all here and it’ll just be like old times.” 

“I couldn’t possibly. . .” You shake your head.

“You can!” He says, “Come on, I won’t take no for an answer! And H, hurry up with those drinks.” 

Jeff walks you away from the bar and towards the table that you noticed earlier when you noticed Harry for the first time this evening. Glenne, Mitch and Sarah are there, as well as Kid and a few other producers that you recognise from working on Harry’s album, as well as a few songs from yours also. You knew that just because you and Harry broke up you couldn’t expect the friendships that had formed because of you two to just stop altogether. 

“YN!” There’s a course of cheers and Sarah’s the first to stand up and wrap her arms around you. Out of everyone, Sarah was the person who you were closest with out of Harry’s band. She had joined Harry’s band after you and Harry had been dating for a year or so when Sarah joined the band, and you two instantly clicked and became the closest of friends. You had spoken a few times with her since you had broke up, but nothing compared to what you used to. You weren’t surprised though, she was Harry’s drummer first and your friend after — or that’s what you told yourself to make you feel slightly better. 

“Hi.” You smile, dropping down into the spare seat next to Sarah. Words are thrown around the table of glee that you’re there, as well as questions as to why you haven’t been in contact. You know they’re drunk, and you suspect that is why they’re saying all of the things they are. You were quick to fall out of the conversation as it moved onto the show that they did the day prior to celebrate the release of Harry’s album. You suppose the reason your feelings were so heightened today was due to your hearing the album for the first time yesterday and then replaying it today.

It was completely different to Harry Styles but still so Harry. You hated how his music made your feel, the sad and the happy ones, as well as all in between. Harry returned to the table shorty after clutching drinks in his hands, and under his arms. Why he didn’t just make two trips, you would never know, but it’s lucky that all the drinks made it without any spillages. 

“We were just talking about yesterday.” Glenne says, taking a sip of her drink as she does before turning towards you, “Have you heard the album, YN?” 

“You don’t have too—” Harry turns to your briefly. 

“I have.” You nod, “It’s good, a masterpiece even. You should be proud of it, H.” 

You can see his shoulder tense, and from knowing him as well as you do, you wouldn’t be surprised if his heart just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. If you’ve listened to the album, it means that you’ve heard the song that Harry hoped you hadn’t. 

“What would you say is your favourite?” 

You look directly at him as you say the next words, and you hope he listens to them, “Probably Cherry.” 

The other’s carry on talking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, but Harry doesn’t open his mouth again. He doesn’t stop looking at you though, and the way you look gorgeously defeated. A part of him wondered whether he was the one who caused you to be this way. About a month ago he asked some producers he knew that were working on your album with you how you are, and they said that you just seemed sad. It broke him to hear those words, just the words he had said to you all those months ago had broken you. Out of the blue, probably not but due to you not paying any attention, the group all move in, including you and Harry to have a reminiscent group photo.

He does open his mouth again when the group disperse to the dance floor, leaving the two of you all alone at the table.

“I’m sorry.” 

You don’t lift your eyes up from the end of the table cloth you’re messing with, an exasperated laugh leaving your lips, “What for? Breaking up with me? Taking everything from me? Or, I don’t know, using that in your song?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t mind.” 

“You thought I wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, completely baffled at his words, “Why would you think that? I trusted you with that, and now it’s on the end of one of your songs.” 

“I’m sorry about everything, but especially that.” He says, and you can tell he’s being genuine with the look in his eyes. He looks as though he’s about to cry. 

“Why did you do it?” I asks, “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve said yes, I swear to you.” 

“I was nervous.” He says, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, and I felt as though asking would’ve have been the best.” 

“So you decided to do it anyway?” 

“Will you forgive me, please?” He asks, and you can tell his voice is about to break, “Please.” 

“That’s it, Harry.” You say, “I don’t think I can.” 

The next morning you awake with a slight hangover, which wasn’t surprising because once you’d left quickly after saying your last words to Harry, and opened a bottle of vodka that you had in your cupboard. That bottle now sits on your bedside table, three-quarters of it drunk and the cause of your hangover. You were thankful that you hadn’t gotten too drunk before you left the party, due to the wraths of paparazzi that were there as you left. You remember leaving with your head down, ignoring their calls and questions, as well as their their cameras flashed at you. You had gotten into your car, your driver had smiled at you and the second the car started moving away from the club you found yourself unable to stop the tears that streamed down your face. 

This wasn’t the first time that you’d done this since you’ve broken up with Harry, but this was certainly the worse you’ve felt since you’ve done so. Your head had its own heartbeat, and you felt as though your were stable on your feet as you trudged towards the kitchen to have some orange juice, your remedy for your hangovers to say the least. It was always something that Harry thought ahead about when you were together. If he knew that the two of you were going out he’d always stock up the fridge. The amounts of time since that you’ve gotten drunk and not had any orange juice within the house is quite atrocious and he knew from experience that they never ended well.

You drink your first glass of the drink quickly, and pour your second one before making you way back into your bedroom. Due to the amount of time you spent in LA, you had purchased your second apartment here, your first being in London. It wasn’t the nicest ever, but it was good enough for you when you were here, and something that you were thankful to have when you woke up from nights like these. 

You fall back down upon your bed and the first you think you pick up is your phone, shocked at the thousands of notifications your found on it. You’re still slightly asleep so you rub your eyes a few times before clicking upon the instagram app. The thousands of notifications are dm’s and comments upon your photos. After clicking through the notifications, you find the culprit sat with a lovely love heart emoji on Glenne’s story. 

At some point that morning, probably whilst you were growing your sorrows away with vodka, she had posted the photo of you all on her story with the caption ‘the band’s back together,’ a heart emoji and tagged you in it. All the messages were asking whether you and Harry were back together again, not because you’d ever gone public with your relationship, but Harry had gone public with your breakup in his interview with the Rolling Stones and with Zane Lowe. He was very respectful in the way that he spoke about it, which was all you ask for. You hadn’t actively gone out to watch and read what he was saying, but your manager had warned you about them before you had done some interviews and you were curious to say the least what they were about. 

In the photo you could tell that you and Harry were the only ones who were sober. Everyone else had drunken grins on their faces whilst you and Harry, to say the least, had very uncomfortable smiles across both of your lips. It annoyed you slightly that the two of you couldn’t even be in the same place anymore without having messages upon messages about whether or not you’re back together. Anyone with a brain could see that you certainly weren’t just by the expression on both of your faces. 

You weren’t annoyed, or angry that the photo had been posted because you wouldn’t have taken the photo if you didn’t want it to be posted, but you did take the photo. You were always taking photos together before the breakup, and photo booths were you speciality. It’s another thing that you had hardly done since the breakup, so it was nice to see the photo but deep down a part of you wished that it hadn’t have been taken. 

It’s all over all of the social media’s, and you decide that it’s probably best if you just put your phone down. You’re about place it on your bedside table when a notification pops up on the top of your screen, and without thinking, you tap on it, sending you straight to the messages app and to who had sent you the message.

Harry: YN? 

Why he was sending you a message in the first place, you had no idea. Why he was messaging your so early in the morning was also something that confused you even more. 

Harry: I know you’re reading this. 

Harry: Your read receipts are on. 

You curse yourself for being so click-happy when you see a notification, and more so for having your read receipts on because you know you can remove them but you don’t quite know how to. You contemplate for a few seconds what to say in your drunken, tired haze, before typing out the message: 

YN: Can I help you? 

His reply comes in a few seconds later. 

Harry: Are you free? 

YN: Why? 

Harry: Meet me at Beachwood. Usual time. 

YN: Why should I? 

Harry: Just be there. Please.

YN: I will. 

When you walk down the pavement towards the Beachwood Cafe, its as though you’re doing so without actually thinking about it. When you and Harry were together — this was your place. You can’t even remember the amount of dates the two of you have had here, tucked away in the corner whilst the music played, chatting away endlessly about things that popped into each of your minds. It got to the point that when you two were free, and managed to get to go, you had been that much that the waitresses knew your order by memory. The first time they had done it, you remember the way you both smiled sheepishly at each other and back at the waitress. 

It was decorated for Christmas. You could see a tree in the corner of the cafe, as well as lights and tinsel across the windows. If you weren’t so nervous you probably would have smiled at the sight of it. 

You push the door open and hear the familiar ding of a bell that rings whenever someone walks through, and you’re catapulted back to last year when you did the exact same thing but with a smile on your face from your excitement of seeing your boyfriend, one who you cared and loved very much. 

The low hum of Mud’s Lonely this Christmas fills the room, very apt for the current situation and you’re guessing the mood of the conversation you’re about to have. It was late, close to closing time but you and Harry found that to be the best time to come, because hardly anybody else did. 

He’s already sat at your usual table, the one in the corner because the two of you often liked to people watch. It had started off a silly game once when you were both tired and didn’t really want to talk about your lives, so you started brainstorming what other people’s were like. As much as you hated to admit it, Harry’s stories were always the better of the two of you but you didn’t mind, because you could little to the words he spoke to you for every minute for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind. 

He’s already gotten your drinks, you can see the two glasses upon the table in front of him. You pull out the chair, making him look up from his phone at you. You can see his features immediately soften at the sight of you stood there. 

They always used to do that. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You don’t reply, “I got you a peppermint hot chocolate. I know It’s one of your favourites.” 

It was one of your favourites, and you haven’t been able to have one in a while because, surprise surprise, they remind you of Harry, and the time you used to spend together. 

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the hot liquid, dropping it back down and looking at him directly in the eyes, “Why did you invite me here?” 

He clears his throat, and the movements of his elbows suggest he’s wiping his hands upon his trousers. 

“I want to apologise. For everything, this time.” He says, and you watch as he places his hands back upon the table, messing with the rings on his hand. He still wore the one you got him for your anniversary a year ago, “For how I acted yesterday, the day we broke up and the months before hand. I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for it, but I just hope that you accept my apology.” 

“I do.” You say, after a couple of seconds of contemplation, knowing that there was no point to having this dragged out for any longer than it already was, “I just want to know why, that’s all I want.” 

“I.” He stops and lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, if I’m honest with you. I was just so investing into getting the album finished, and for some reason in my mind I thought that it would be best if I was single to do that.” 

“Why would you think that?” You ask, the tears brimming on your waterline. 

“I don’t know. The second I watched you walk out of the door, and when you didn’t turn around to look again but just drove away, I knew I’d messed up.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You choke back a sob, trying to be quiet to not draw attention to the two of you, “You should’ve stopped me. Explained. I love you Harry, I would have done anything to help you. You needed space, I would’ve given it to you. You needed me, I would’ve been there.” 

He drops his head, “I know.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” You suck in a breath and bite your head to stop anymore sounds from escaping, “You let me leave. You watched me leave. Why didn’t you stop me?” 

“I felt guilty. I’d just broken up with you, love, do you really think that it would’ve been a good idea for me to all of a sudden say I wanted you back?” 

Silent tears stream down your face, “You had months to, Harry. Months. You did nothing.” 

“And it’ll be the biggest regret of my life, YN, I promise you.” He says, and you can tell that he’s trying to stop himself from crying, “It will be. I’ve been a mess without you.” 

You still love Harry, and you know that you do, and you hate seeing him so upset. You believe that’s why you reach forward to take his hand in yours. 

“I have too.” 

Somehow, you and Harry had been booked on the same flight home, and you managed to get seats next to each other. Spending that time next to each other was good, you believed. It gave you the opportunity to properly speak and catch each other up on everything that had happened. Harry had apologised, yet again, for everything that had happened and you had too. You gushed over his album once you had done, and that was when he invited you to the Secret London Show he was holding at the Electric Ballroom. 

That takes you to now, stood in front of your mirror looking over your outfit to make sure that it was presentable enough. You knew you had to look presentable, but it wasn’t as fancy as the Christmas party. You dressed yourself in a long sleeved black lace top, and paired it with some black jean flares and your docs. Simple, yet quite effective in the grand scheme of things.

You were nervous to say the least about what what the evening was going to hold, especially since Gemma and other people who you hadn’t seen since the two of you broke up were going to be there. You weren’t exactly prepared, and if they asked you any questions you’d have no idea about what to say, but once you had brought that up with Harry, he said to just answer with the truth, which you were going to. 

The entire way to the electric ballroom you were nervous, your heart was beating out of you chest and you felt as though you shouldn’t have been going. You thought that up until you arrived, when you walked backstage to see Harry and Gemma stood talking whilst Harry was getting ready. Once he saw you, his features rose into a smile and yours did too, and you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting. 

“YN!” You could hear the shock in Gemma’s voice as she noticed that it was you and she immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around you, “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, thanks Gem.” You smiled, pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “How are you?” 

“I’m amazing.” She says, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be here. Are you two back together? Please tell me that you are.” 

Instead of answering straight away, you turn to look at Harry briefly. You both knew exactly what was running through your brains, and the way you both smiled at each other made that completely obvious. He nodded, and then you knew exactly what to say. 

You grin and turn back to Gemma, “Trying to.” 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps you in another hug, “He was a mess without you, and I know you were a mess without him. You’re soulmates. I can’t believe he even did it in the first place.” 

“I think we all couldn’t.” You laugh.

“Hey!” Harry whines from the chair beside the two of you, “I made a mistake, we all get it.” 

You and Gemma laugh and from then it’s like the past six months hadn’t happened and you were still the best of friends. That was one thing about being with Harry, you loved his family just as much as you loved him. Gemma was like a sister to you, and she was even when you broke up but you just hadn’t seen her. Anne, well she was like a second mother to you. She always made sure to make you feel included at family gatherings, and she even came to stay with you sometimes when Harry went away for a while and you couldn’t go with him. You had missed Harry the most during this time, but Anne and Gemma were two people that you had also missed more than anything. 

The majority of people make their way to where they’re watching the show soon after, but you tell Gemma that you’ll meet her on the balcony later because you wanted to have a quick word with Harry. He was in the middle of shrugging his jacket upon his shoulders when you walked through the door, and he immediately stopped his movements and turned to look at you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Everything okay?” 

You shrug and bite your lip, stepping for arms a few steps towards him, “Just wanted to see you.” 

You find your eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in the monochrome yellow suit he had on with a black tie. You always loved and supported Harry’s wardrobe choices, and you had missed in the time you hadn’t been with him picking them out with him. You felt as though this was an excellent choice. 

“You look amazing.” He says, taking a few steps forward so that you’re directly in front of each other. You watch as he lifts his hands up, about to place them on your waist but he stops himself and drops his arms back down. Without hesitation you grab his wrists and place them upon your waist. His eyes widen, but the second he feels your skin underneath his hand, just separated by the thin material of your lace top. 

“Thank you.” You bite your lip and wrap your fingers around his tie, lightly picking up the material, “You look so handsome, H.” 

He almost lets out a sob at your words, but he quickly stops himself and smiles at you. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips upon his. They feel so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. You want to cry. You’ve dreamt of this for months, the feeling of having him this closer to you again, and from the way he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you even closer to him, so that your body is fully flushed against his. You pull away with a smile and immediately drop your head to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist under his jacket and hugging him close to you. You finally feel a tear escape from your eye. 

“I’ve missed you so much, H.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

He sings the entire Fine Line album from start to finish, and from how much you’ve listened to the album you actually know the majority of the words. You sing and dance away with Gemma, posting instagram stories of the two of you, and then one of how proud you are of Harry. You don’t need to explain yourself, there certainly isn’t a need to so you do so without any hesitation. You realise you’ve missed watching him perform, the way he can entertain a crowd with his talents has always been something you’d been jealous of. You’ve done shows here and there but because your album isn’t due to be out until the start of next year, when you plan to do your first world tour, and even though you try your hardest, you don’t feel as though you’ll ever be able to work a crowd the way he does. Where Stormzy came from, you still have no idea, since you hadn’t seen him downstairs but all of a sudden he’s singing Vossi Bop with Harry and your watching with your mouth dropped open in shock as he does so. 

You and Harry make the executive decision to go to Harry’s house after the concert. It’s how you both found yourselves sat on Harry’s sofa, a glass of wine in each of your hands. You head is leant against the back of the sofa, whilst Harry’s hand leans upon the back of it, running his fingers through your hair. It’s comforting, and the smile hasn’t left your face since he started to do it. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his hand from your hair to run his finger along your cheekbone, then down until he’s running it across your lips, “I can’t believe I ever pushed you away. You were my girl. I was going to marry you, I needed to marry you, still do.” 

“I’m back now.” You whisper back, lifting your hand to place on his cheek, “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m not leaving.” 

“I don’t want you too.” He shakes his head, “I’ll never want you too again.” 

Without really thinking, you take the glass out of Harry’s hand and place both of yours upon the table in front of you, listening to the sound as glass meets glass. He leans back on the sofa with a puzzled look, immediately realising what is happening when you move to straddle his hips, placing your hands upon his shoulders to steady yourself. His hands fall upon the small of your back, his hands dragging up and down to tease your skin. 

You lean forward, moving so that your faces are inches apart. You knock his nose slightly with yours, causing his cheeks to curl upwards with a smile before you capture it with your lips.  immediately responds by kissing your back, pushing his body so that it’s placed even closer to yours if it’s physically possible. 

Without a warning you pull away from him, slipping off his lap so that you’re on your knees in front of him. His eyes never leave yours as you so, and he immediately opens his legs so that you can slip in between them, his finger running over his bottom lip as he watches you. 

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Want to feel you.” You reply, resting your hands upon his thighs, “Want to feel you in my mouth. Can I?” 

“Go ahead, baby.” 

You feel excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and with shaky hands you move to unfasten his belt, and unbutton and unzip his trousers without much struggle. He lifts his hips up so that you can manoeuvre his trousers down and off his legs, leaving him in his black boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of the tent within the flimsy material, already growing and ready for you. You feel slightly overwhelmed that after so long of waiting, and wanting him to be in front of you again, he actually is. 

“Already so hard for me, H.” You say, running your hand over the fuzz upon his bare thighs, “Have you thought about this as much as I have.” 

“I thought about it everyday.” He replies, quickly at that, “It’s etched in my brain, the sight of you on your knees for me.” 

You bite your lip as your grin, leaning to press a kiss to his stomach, just above the happy little trial that slips underneath the hem of his boxers. You feel his stomach tense underneath your lips, especially when you hook your fingers into the hem of his boxers, wiggling the material down until you can completely take it off once he’d lifted his hips again. He’s fully hard for you, and you can feel your stomach doing little flips in excitement for what is going to happen. 

Sex, as it is in most relationships, was a big part of yours and Harry’s. It’s important that couples are comfortable with each other when revealing such intimate parts of themselves, and you and Harry were. If any of of you wanted to try anything, you could do so because of how comfortable you felt with each other. Whenever the other wanted to try anything, you’d do so without any hesitation and in such a way that you both enjoyed it. You both had your kinks, and your shared ones, and over the courser of your relationship you both explored those feelings. You were just happy that even though you had spent such time away from each other, you could still feel that confidence bubbling between the two of you, and those feelings bubbling between each other. Harry made you feel a way no other human being has ever been able to, and you were thankful because you felt as though you’d never be able to find that with anyone else, and now you didn’t have to worry because you were back together. 

“You ready to take me in your mouth baby.” He says, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Ready to take me the way you used to.” 

“Always, baby.” 

Your tongue slips from between your lips and you lick a stripe up his throbbing cock, causing a low groan to escape through Harry’s lips. You can’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that you had caused that. Another groan escapes his lips once you wrap your lips around his tip completely, taking it into your mouth and you can help but giggle slightly. He smiles down at you and pulls your hair up so that it’s off of your face, making a makeshift ponytail to help move you up and down his cock. 

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth.” His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Always could take me so well. Show me, baby, show me how deep you can go.” 

You comply, taking him as deep as you can until you can feel him in the back of your throat. You eyes start to water, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hold for as long as possibly can before he lightens his touch and allows you to pull away. A string of saliva connects you two together as you and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to remove it. 

“Can you do it again?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, flicking your eyes between his throbbing member and him a few times before wrapping your lips back around him, “Fuck, baby, no one can do this like you can. No one.” 

His words spur you on and you deep throat him as far as you possibly can before you need to gasp for air, taking a few seconds before starting to bob your head again, taking a few seconds at each time to run your tongue over his throbbing tip, collecting some of the salty pre-come that had started to bubble there. 

“So good to me.” He lets you stop for a minute, and you place your head upon his thigh so that you can catch you breath. It was almost as though he knew that you needed to take a breather. You had the slight problem of always trying to do more than you’re able too and you almost always end up loosing too much of your breath, “Even though I’m an absolute twat. You’re always so good to me.” 

“You deserve it.” You say, your throat a little coarse from your actions before. 

“I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I broke your heart.” 

You hesitate for a few seconds, “But you’re fixing it.” 

“I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place.” 

You move so that your higher up and able to place a kiss to his lips, whispering against them, “You’re fixing it.” 

He kisses you back with more passion than before, moving his hand to grip under your thighs so that he can pick you up and place your on his. His fingers tug at the hem of your lace shirt, so you detach your lips so that you can pull it over your head. He groans at the sight of your bare chest to him, your nipples hardening into stiff buds at the feeling of the cold air immediately on your skin. 

“No bra?” He presses a few open mouthed kisses to your neck, “You’ve been with me all evening, and I never even fucking noticed that you didn’t have a bra on.” 

“You used to have a special talent for noticing when I didn’t have a bra on.” You giggle, sighing slightly at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and then the subtle feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. 

“I must’ve lost my touch. But don’t worry.” He pulls away and looks you directly in the eye, “I’ll soon get it back.” 

“Of course you will.” You laugh, but he stops it with his lips. The first time you and Harry kissed, you were so nervous. You felt as though you were going to mess up and he’d never want to kiss you again. You were completely wrong, and he actually ended up saying that it was one of the best kisses of you life. You couldn’t believe his words, and since then you completely found yourself wanting his lips to be on yours. Just as they were now, his tongue slipping between your lips and the feeling always transporting the two of you to where it’s just you, and you have the time in the world to kiss as much as you want to. 

He moves his kisses down your neck, leaving sloppy ones against your skin until he was at the curve of your breast. Harry was a boob man, you knew that for a fact. As much as he loved to hold onto your ass every now and then, you always noticed that he spent the majority of his time focusing on your boobs. Whether it be sucking blemishes into the plushly skin whilst you fucked, or laying his head on them as you both calmed down from your activities, he always, without fail, focused on your boobs. 

He knew that if he attacked your nipples skilfully with his tongue, he could have your dampening your panties and clenching your thighs together so much that he couldn’t resist it. He starts by wrapping his lips around your right nipple, tugging on the flesh slightly with his lips before letting it go with a pop. 

“Fucking love your tits, love.” He sighs and you giggles slightly before gasping at the feeling of his pinching your other nipple with his fingers, “Fit in my hands, and in my mouth, so nicely.” 

You moan in response to his words and throw your head back as he wraps his lips around your other one, sucking and sending flutters all the way down to your core. You wanted him, yearned for him, and you were beginning to grown inpatient. 

“Can we go to your bedroom?” You run your fingers through his hair and pull his head back so that he’s looking at you, “Bedroom.” 

“Is that where you want it?” 

“Want it in your bed.” You say, placing your hand upon his cheek, “Our bed.” 

He stands up with you still on him, your legs wrapped around him as he carries your upstairs. You rest your head upon his shoulder so he can look over yours and direct you safely to the comforts of his bedroom. 

This place didn’t hold the best of memories from the last few months of your relationship but if you ignored that and focused on the positives, you had some of your best times in this room. It was a place where the two of you could completely be yourselves, and have a place to call yours. The pillow talk that occurred in this room was out of this world, and it was where you planned your future. One that was put on hold briefly but now seemed to be ready for the two of you again. 

“Will you strip for me?” He asks as he places your down in the room, “I want to watch you slip out of those jeans, baby.” 

You nod but at first undress him. You slip the jacket from his shoulders, skilfully loosen his tie and pull it over his head. Next is his shirt which you start to unbutton, but Harry grows impatient and rips it off, the buttons flying in all sorts of directions. 

“Harry!” 

“Oops?” He laughs, sitting down on the bed. 

You had given Harry one strip tease before, for his birthday a year ago and it had gone down a treat. You had dressed up in your fanciest lingerie, which happened to be a black set that he had bought specifically for you for your birthday with ‘Styles’ embroidered on the inside. There was something, for the both of you, that you loved about seeing his name all over your the undergarments you wore. Whenever you wore them out in public, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, as though you were hiding a naughty secret that you didn’t want anyone to know about. 

“Are you going to?” He urged, not taking his eyes off you’re, “I’m waiting.” 

“Might make you wait a little longer.” You smile, running your fingers along the hem of your jeans, “Seeing as though you left me waiting for how long?” 

“Don’t tease.” 

“Why?” You shrug, “That was your speciality, wasn’t it?” 

He had a love for teasing you, always had done. From the first time the two of you had sex, you knew he liked to tease. He liked to tease you all over, having your body withering under his touch until you couldn’t help but beg for him to touch you. You had a slight suspicion that he enjoyed hearing you beg for him, whimpering under his touch until you were crying for him to touch you. You remember that once, he had been teasing you all day whilst you had been out and about, but once you had gotten home he was teasing you so badly, overstimulating you over and over until you were crying for him to make your come. 

“Just strip, my love.” You laugh and his words and unfasten the button to your jeans, turning around so that your ass is facing him, pulling your jeans down to reveal your black lace panties to him. You’re not surprised when he smacks his hand to the flesh of your ass, causing you to turn around with a gasp.

“That wasn’t nice.” You move so that you’re straddling him again. 

“When have I ever been nice?” He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t think you want me to start now.” 

He leans forward and places his lips to yours again, his body falling back upon the bed so that you’re hovering above him. His fingers run down from the small of his back, to her ass again until he’s gripping the flesh between his fingers, quite harshly you must say so which goes straight to your core. You know that the front of your panties are ruined by your wetness, and you know for certain that Harry does also. 

“Sit on my face.” He mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back.

“Sit on my face.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna eat that pretty cunt, want to have you trembling above me.” 

You would squeeze your thighs together, but you can’t because of his body between yours. You nod your head and clamber off him, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly. You move up the bed until you’re next to his head, spreading your legs and placing your knees on either side of his head. His hands grip your thighs, dancing his fingers along your thighs. 

“Please, H.” You say, pushing his hair off of his forehead as you look down at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging so soon, baby.” He chuckles, pressing a few kisses upon your cheeks. 

“I’m doing no such thing.” You shake your head, “You’re just being slow.” 

He certainly isn’t being slow when he leans his head forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue. You have to quickly lean forward also and grab the headboard to steady yourself, a moan escaping your lips as he does so. He attacks your clit quickly, and you can’t help but grind your hips forward at the feeling. He curls his hands around your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore. You cry out as he doesn’t slow down, and you pull his hair slightly. It emits a moan from him which vibrates against your clit, creeping your closer and closer to your peak.

It becomes a cycle. As you pull on his hair, more moans and groans tumble from his lips again sty your clit. He knew the more that he focused upon your clit, the closer you’d find yourself to your orgasm. He had learnt this, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten it. 

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, rocking your hips back and forth against his tongue. He knows your close, due to your thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t slow down, but instead he flicks his tongue even quicker. 

“Fucking hell.” You moan, your body starting to shake as you feel your orgasm wash over you. He continues to attack your clit, coaxing you through your orgasm until you’ve finished and catching your breath. 

“You taste so fucking good.” He says, dancing his fingers upon your thigh, “Missed your taste.” 

“Fuck me, H.” You say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate. You manoeuvre yourself off of his head and lay so that you’re head is rested upon his pillow. He leans to open his bedside drawer but you stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling his back to you.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” You ask, knowing that this could make or break whether you were going to be fucked or not at this moment.

“No.” He says, immediately shaking his head, “I didn’t. Did you?” 

You also shake your head, “I wanna feel you, H. Want you to come in me.” 

He groans without even touching you yet, or you touching him. He immediately drops his lips to yours, and you can’t help but giggle and smile into the kiss. You wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer to you. He pulls away slightly, just to grip his cock, running his thumb over his tip a few times. 

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Please, H.” You nod, hips bucking towards his, “I need you.” 

“Need you too.” He kisses you again, “Always need you.” 

He leans forward, looking down between the two of you to line his cock up with your entrance. He runs the tip over your clit for a second before pushing into you. Your walls immediately envelope him, tightening around him with every inch that he moves in. You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his back. He starts to move in and out of you, your walls clenching around him as he tries to find his rhythm. 

“Fuck.” You can’t help but moan that into his ear. 

“Taking me so well.” You drop your hands to rest on your pillows next to him, to which he takes your hand in his as he starts to quicken his pace, “Missed your pussy so much. Never leaving again.” 

Instead of replying, you place your lips upon his again. From the way his eyes are screwed closed, you can tell that he’s close. If it’s possible, he starts to thrust his hips harder towards you, hitting a point so deep into you that causes a whine to fall from your mouth. 

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” He says against your neck, moving in and out until your thighs are shaking beneath him, “Can feel you, fuck, can feel you clenching around me. Milking my cock, aren’t you?” 

You hum, “Feel so good, H. I’m so close.” 

When you do come, you see stars. You clench around him, and profanities escape your lips. The feeling is completely how you remember it. You hadn’t been completely celibate since breaking up with Harry, since you do own a little bullet vibrator that had been your friend. You had it for years before you met Harry, and you used it whenever he was away or if the two of you fancied spicing it up every now and then.

You come down from your high just as Harry is catapulted into his, coating your walls with his as does so. His body collapses on top of yours, his head rested at the side of yours. He’s still inside of you, and both of your chests are rising up at down at a quick pace. 

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, and you turn your head to look at him. He has a grin upon his face and you lean forward to kiss his dimple, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.” 

“I know.” You smiled, “You’ve told me multiple times. I’ve missed you to.” 

He finally pulls out, and you immediately felt empty. You whined slightly and he moved off of you, dropping down upon the bed next to you. You take this as the opportunity to slip from your bed. Due to not having sex in a long time, you flip your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare yourself for having to take a few steps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and waddle your way towards Harry’s bathroom, scooping up Harry’s shirt on the way. 

You know the way like the back of your hand, and it’s oddly comforting to you. Once you’re in the bathroom, you clean yourself and do your business. Once you’re satisfied, you shrug Harry’s shirt on and do up a few buttons so that you’re covering at least a bit of yourself as you do so. 

Harry’s underneath the covers as you return to his room, smiling at you with dimples and all as you walk back through the door. He’s on his side of the bed, and you clamber into yours. The feeling of having someone in bed next to you makes you happy inside. You lay upon your side, with one of your hands beneath you head and Harry copies your movement. Your faces are close, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your nose. 

You smile, “Hi.” 

“Hi, love.” 

“Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, “Do you think we’ve rushed this?” 

“No.” He’s quick to say, “I don’t think we have. We needed this. I’ve never felt closer to someone as I do to you right now.” 

“Me neither.” You smile, moving to grab his hand that was rested upon his side, “And I don’t think I will again.” 

“Darling.” Harry says, pointing his finger in the air as he does so. 

Chloe hesitates for a second before letting out a, “Ding!” to say that he was right. 

It was Boxing Day, and after spending Christmas Eve and the majority of Christmas Day with your family, you had driven from your family house up to Cheshire to spend the rest of Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Harry’s family. You were all sat in the living room playing a game, sporting glasses of wine and basking in the Christmassy feeling of being together again. 

After Harry’s show on the nineteenth, and the acts that happened afterwards, you and Harry had many conversations. There was a few tears from the two of you, and the conversation got heated in some aspects but you were together again, and that was the main thing. Originally, you had decided to spend Christmas separate, without each other’s company just because it was such a sudden change and you wanted to make sure that you fully weren’t rushing into things. Then, whilst sat on the sofa after devouring your Christmas dinner, with Mud’s Lonely this Christmas playing through your speakers that you realised that you missed Harry, and a Christmas without seeing him now was a Christmas that you didn’t want in your life. 

You had contemplated surprising him and just turning up, but you felt as though that wasn’t fair on the rest of his family, and that’s why you messaged and asked him. He replied asking whether you were certain that you wanted to do this, and you said yes and he said that he’d have a cup of tea ready for you whenever you arrived. 

He did have one ready for you, and it was everything you needed to warm yourself up after the long journey. 

Anne, Gemma and Michal asked no questions to you, but you had no doubt that they had asked Harry some on your journey. Anne had welcomed you with a hug, and so did Gemma and once their prying eyes were away, Harry kissed you as though his life depended on it, pressed against the staircase of his mother’s house whilst fairy lights twinkled around them. 

Anne’s next to go, hoping that her answer of, “Sweetheart,” was at the top of the list. 

Chloe replies with, “Uh huh,” to which everyone “Ooo’s” in response at.

You’re rested upon the back of the sofa, with a flute of Champagne in your hand. Harry, in his flat-cap almost breaking your hear with how handsome he looked, turned around and pointed his finger at you. 

“Come on, now.” He says, “Be smart with this. It’s sticky stuff.” 

“Babe.” You immediately reply, knowing that was one of pet names that Harry called you the most.

People around the room laugh at Harry’s phrase of ‘sticky-stuff’ but that doesn’t mask Chloe’s exclamation of, “Ding!” followed by, “Top answer.” 

You smile at the knowledge and Harry turns to you also, holding his fist up for you to fist bump which you both laugh at. He holds his hand out and you pass him your drink, which he takes a sip of quickly before returning it to you so you can carry on playing the game. 

Michal is next, and for some bizarre reason to all of you he says, “Cutie-pie,” which certainly isn’t on the list. The room chuckles around you, and Harry says something about him “returning to the mines’’ which you all laugh at, but you specifically roll your eyes at. 

The game soon wraps up, and you have your meal. Harry sits next to you, and had his hand upon your thigh the entire way through. The table around the two of you chatted about all sorts, many of the questions being about when your music was coming out which you certainly didn’t expect. You started to feel as though your album, when it came out, wouldn’t be very complimentary of your relationship with Harry, and you were starting to regret it slightly, but you loved all of your songs and you hoped that when you showed Harry, and the world for that matter, that they would too.  

You and Harry, after the meal had finished, had offered to be on washing up duty. You had been given the task of washing up, whilst Harry dried because he felt as though his skills were better there. You let him believe that and carry on with drying all of the special Christmas cutlery that didn’t go in the dish-washer. 

Once you had finished, and you were drying your hand upon the towel, you felt hands upon your waist, more specifically, Harry’s. He place a kiss to your neck and you giggled, turning around so that upon were facing him. He immediately captures your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around your neck to steady yourself from the attack of his lips. His hands immediately again go to your waist, slipping his hand underneath the material of your jumper to rest upon your skin. Once you pull away, you look at him with a smile upon your face. 

“What was that for?” 

“What?” He shrugs, “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?” 

“Girlfriend?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“Girlfriend.” He nods, “That’s what you are, aren’t you?” 

You nod your head and place another kiss to his lips, the feeling running through the two of you without really knowing how significant he really was. 

“If you want me to be. I want to be.” 

He lifts one of his hands and places it upon your cheek, running his thumb ever so delicately along your skin.

“I love you.” He says, with no hesitation in his voice, “I know I’ve been shitty, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, especially not in the way that I am, but I do love you and I never stopped. I swear to you, that from now on my love for you will be the most important thing, and I won’t ever, ever make you second best again.” 

“That’s all I want.” You reply, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his lips, “I love you too.” 

With the year that you had, and the feeling as though you’d never be with this man again, you couldn’t believe that here you were with him. He was with you, and he was yours and there was no doubt in your mind that what happened earlier this year will never happen again. It was almost as though this was something that your relationship needed to grow stronger in itself, and it surely was now.

He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you onto his chest, “I’m never letting you go again. I probably won’t let you out of my sight again.” 

“I can’t say that I’d ever complain.”