#and then going over to the same friends house the next morning for brunch

[princemick]

its so weird to like, spend time w friends all the time? like the realisation thay I'm living what 16 yr old me craved is so weird

[ridher]

on the opposite side of this post, imagine being rafe's girl bsf

"we're just friends", was something said all too often between the two of you — at least one of you meant it.

being childhood best friends seemed to be the only reason the boundary stayed in place. you didn't see him beyond the boy you'd grown up with and fully believed he thought the same.

obviously, rafe didn't see it that way. the girl next door who for some reason stuck by him being, you know, him. he's just a guy after all, how is he supposed to resist such a pretty girl who constantly accompanies him around town?

you're his first choice. whether he's going out to the country club for a round of golf, or literally dealing drugs on the couch at some kook's house party — he wants to be with you. sure, he has other friends, but they don't cling to his side or press friendly kisses to his cheek.

as much as it pains him that you're so close yet so out of reach, he'd never make a move. beyond how his body physically reacts to your soft touches or sweet smile, you're all he feels he truly has. the one person on his side.

speaking of the party scene, of course you arrive with him. he'll guide you through the house with a hand on the small of your back, the warmth felt against your skin through the fabric of the tight little dress you wear. no matter how many times you pad off to dance with your friends or get a likely unneeded refill of some exotic drink, you always find yourself back at his side.

that is until you can't. when you're stumbling back from the kitchen and see rafe, whispering in the ear of another girl. there's no reason for you to be upset when he follows her upstairs — his hand holding her how he did you earlier, making the alcohol feel as though it's rising up your stomach.

he has to compensate somehow and one night stands seem to be his solution. he'll come back down as though nothing happened, running a hand through his hair to collect himself.

that's when the night ends and your bratty behavior is blamed on the stupid amount of drinking you'd done. rafe drags you along with a firm grip on your upper arm as you make it purposefully difficult for him — thrashing around and trying to wriggle free. he manages to manhandle you into the passenger seat of his truck before he's fed up.

"calm the fuck down, would you?" he huffs impatiently after aggressively grabbing your cheeks with one rough hand and forcing your eyes to focus on him.

you go all pouty and stare up at him with big, glossed-over eyes, expression softening at the way he shows he cares. a little jostle and exasperated 'hm?' has you nodding in response through a drunken hiccup.

you're released and left to stare out the windshield, thoughts swirling the whole ride home — all of which concerning rafe.

the night is a blur when you wake up in your own bed the next morning, changed into one of rafe's t-shirts you'd probably stolen and the same pair of panties from last night. you know how you got here because you're greeted with a text from your best friend, simply reading;

'How's the head party girl?'

you'll probably see him later that day for a hungover brunch.

[ellieswifie]

Matt x reader living tgthr !! First moving in, mornings tgthr, cooking, who does which chores, etc.

living with matt

𐙚 blurbs!

MATT WAS BEYOND EXCITED WHEN YOU GUYS FINALLY MOVED IN WITH EACH OTHER. i mean before you guys even got your own apartment, you slept over at his shared house with his brothers numerous times, but it was about time you guys got a small place to yourself.

it’s nearly twelve o’clock and matt’s got his head resting on his elbow while watches you sleep peacefully. he’s got a meeting with his brothers in a couple hours, but he doesn’t even care. he loves laying in bed, your shared bed, until it’s mid afternoon. he’ll wait last minute to get out of bed because he loves hanging out with you.

your drowsy eyes began to open slowly but you don’t jump at matt looking at you, just as tiredly. you just smile, nudging your head further into the pillow. "morning matty." you whisper, moving your hand to your face to rub your eyes. his eyes follow your face, turning a tiny red.

"good morning." he only says. you glance over at the clock laid on the end table. your eyes widen slightly noticing how late it is and how late matt is getting out of bed.

"it’s almost time for you to go, why aren’t you dressed?" you question, rising up from the bed.

matt continues to watch in, unfazed and unbothered. "ive got some time to kill." he mutters, lifting from the pillow and reaching for your cheek. he pulls you close, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. "besides i wanted to get ready with you."

that’s how most mornings are with matt. he’ll wake up an hour or so before you, just to lay and wait for you to wake. he doesn’t love getting ready or eating without you.

same goes as for dinner plans and lunch. he will never eat without you if your at home with him. sitting at the table or the bar island with your meals just eating and talking is somehow comforting to him.

he never forces you to wash dishes either. since he’s home half the time, he’ll tidy up and let you rest from time to time. same goes for you when he’s been filing a lot with his brothers. you guys don’t set a chore list typically, but you know who and when that person does what.

you look at matt with a love sick smile. he’s pushing himself out of bed, and heading towards the master bath, sweat pants sagging. he turns back, toothbrush and paste in his hands. "what?"

"oh nothing." you laugh, shaking your head. "just wondering whose cooking brunch."

you find yourself crawling out of bed too in matt’s shirt and underwear. he catches a glimpse of your legs before you quickly slide into some pj pants hanging from the bed. you don’t know weather their yours or matt’s. you both live for the baggy clothes live and since you’ve moved in together, it’s impossible to track whose clothes belong to who.

matt laughs as he starts applying the tooth paste. "i ordered ihop? im for sure not in a cooking mood." he replied. that’s how things usually end. take out is you and matt’s best friend twenty for seven.

you nod as you walk into the bathroom, standing next to matt in the mirror. you smile at him through the mirror, just smiling. he raises his eye brows and you cover your face with the your hands.

you still can’t believe how amazing it is living with matt sturniolo. the princess treatment, the free wardrobe of clothes, and the amazing respect he brings in your relationship.

yeah you love this man.

[sariahsue]

Wherefore Art Thou My(stery) Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

Chapter Seven (Final)

Adrien – Good morning. I love you.

After sending that message first thing every morning for a week, Adrien knew better than to expect an answer for another hour, probably two because it was a Saturday. No school to look forward to, but he did have a group brunch date. Nino and Alya had organized it and invited Adrien and Marinette along, and Adrien was left to wonder if that had been part of a plan to set the two of them up. 

He took his time showering and getting ready. He knew it was silly, but he wanted to make sure he looked his best.

By the time he got back, Ladybug had sent him a text. 

My Lady – Love you too. ❤️ Figure me out yet? Adrien – Actually, maybe.  My Lady – Really?! Adrien – It's still just a theory, but I know how I'm going to test it later.  My Lady – I look forward to it!

If he was right, she would. It involved a lot of sappy staring at Marinette. 

Brunch wasn’t for another half hour, but he told Nathalie and the Gorilla to drop him off earlier than he needed to be there. It was something he often did, a way to get as much time out of the house as possible. They hadn't caught on yet. (Or if they had, they'd never said anything about it.)

The place they had chosen was small, but Alya swore they had the best pancakes this side of the Alps. Adrien planned on having everything with way too much syrup. 

He found a good seat near the center of the room and texted Ladybug while he waited. Was she getting ready to come to the same spot? If she was, she gave no indication that she'd be seeing him later, just asked what his plans were for the day, as if she honestly had no idea. He leaned back in his chair as he waited for the others. 

Waiters passed with steaming plates of eggs and croissants and coffee. People bustled in and out around him, saying good morning to friends, enjoying the weekend. Adrien hardly noticed any of them until one of them yanked the back of his chair, almost pulling him down. 

“You gotta be careful, dude. You could fall if you lean too far.”

Chairs scraped on the hardwood floors as Nino and Alya took the seats opposite him. It made sense that they would sit together, but was part of the reason to force Marinette to take the seat next to him?

“Lean over a little bit in that chair, Nino.” Adrien reached across the table to grab his hat, but Nino jerked out of the way. “Just so I know how far back I can go. That's all. I promise I won't knock you over.”

“You know, for some reason, I don't really trust you.”

“Marinette says she's coming.” Alya looked up from her phone.

“Did she sleep in or something?” Adrien asked. Knowing when she woke up would help him decide if he was right, though at this point he couldn't imagine how he could be wrong.

“No, she told me she's been awake for a while.”

One hour, he guessed, based on when she had started texting him back. He drummed his fingers, waiting for her to arrive. He needed to see Marinette. Once he saw her, he was sure he would be able to tell for certain. 

Their server came a few minutes later, taking orders. Alya placed for Marinette after getting an assurance over text that she’d be there soon.

“She’s really excited about this,” Alya continued. “Like, texting me nonstop about it since she got up.”

“My condolences,” Nino said.

“Did she say what got her so excited?” Adrien asked. 

“No,” Alya said, eyeing him. “Why? You think you know?”

Adrien just shrugged, pretending to look down to check his phone, though it was really to hide his face. Ladybug hadn’t sent him anything in ages, and the agonizing wait until he knew who she was was even more unbearable now that he had hope it was almost over. 

Marinette came in, pulling out the seat next to his and scooting in until, probably on purpose, her knee brushed his.

“Good morning!” she said, face shining with excitement. She didn't look directly at him, letting him study her profile. The style of her hair was just right. Her freckles were the same. The curve of her lips. (He’d know those lips anywhere.) And he could see the corner of one blue eye. Exactly the right shade.

Marinette glanced over and caught him looking. The corner of her eye crinkled in amusement, then looked down as she slipped her phone into her coat pocket, her hand lingering out of view.

Adrien’s phone pinged with an incoming message. He looked at it reflexively as Marinette pulled her phone out again and laid it face up on the table in front of her.

“What's that, Adrien?” she asked. “Another text from your mysterious girlfriend?”

It was another picture of him, sent by Ladybug, taken just seconds ago. He whipped around while Nino and Alya laughed at him. People were coming in and out of the doorway, but no one that looked like her. He kept looking anyway because it kept him from looking at Marinette. It had been a picture of him and his friends at the table. Marinette had been sitting next to him when the picture had been sent. Ladybug couldn't have been her. 

He'd been so certain... He'd been hoping it was her. He'd had such a streak of luck lately that he'd actually believed that he’d been fortunate enough to be partnered with Marinette. For a moment, he’d been able to believe that the two best girls he knew were one, and she loved him. Disappointment tasted terrible.

Ladybug probably wasn't going to be in the shot, but he held up his phone and took a picture anyway. He glumly turned back to the table and sent it. 

Marinette's phone buzzed enthusiastically, and she swept it out of sight before Adrien could get a good look at it. All he caught was a glimpse of a room, filled with people and tables and an empty doorway. 

“What?” Marinette asked when he turned to look at her. Alya and Nino both waited quietly for once, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

Pulling the picture Ladybug had just sent, Adrien looked over it carefully. He was sitting with his friends, but only two of them. Marinette's seat was still empty. The picture had been taken before she'd sat down. And really, there were hundreds of places to eat brunch in Paris. What were the chances Ladybug just happened to be going to the same one as him this morning?

Found you.

Adrien stared Marinette down. She stared back with the same practiced innocence Ladybug had given him a week ago when they'd first talked about the texting. There was no way they weren't the same person. Her mouth quirked the same way. Her eyes twinkled, whether in civilian clothes or in a red-spotted suit. 

She was right. It was so obvious now that he knew what - who - he was looking at. 

Marinette stayed silent through his whole examination, not raising a question until he pulled away and opened his texting app.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her phone was face down on her lap.

Adrien – Hi 

The buzz that Marinette's phone gave was much quieter, but he was still able to pick it out over the din of the crowd. 

She clenched her hand around it but didn't look away from him. 

Adrien – I Adrien – Love Adrien – You Adrien – My Adrien – Lady

With each message he sent, Marinette's phone buzzed again. The neutral look on her face started to crack. 

“Aren't you going to answer those?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he asked, grinning. “They could be important. Could be from your boyfriend or something.”

“Seeing as I don't have a boyfriend, Adrien,” she put extra emphasis on his name, making sure he knew it was his fault that she didn't, “that would be kind of impossible.” She pressed the phone into her leg to muffle the vibrations.

“Maybe we can fix that?”

He held up his phone right to her face and snapped a picture. 

Another photo message flashed across her screen, and Adrien could see how it lit up the cloth around it. 

“Admit it,” he said. “I figured you out, My Lady.”

“You did, Kitten. Good job.” Marinette held out her phone to him. The screen was full of a picture of her face. Sender: Future Husband. 

Nino was offering his congratulations. Alya was sighing dramatically and saying “finally!” over and over, but Adrien had all but tuned them out. Marinette was Ladybug. He knew who she was. 

And he still couldn’t kiss her. Not the way he wanted to with their friends watching. 

Instead, he grabbed her hand and slowly turned it palm down, placing a long, slow kiss on the back, a promise of things to come.

When he looked up, Marinette’s cheeks were tinged with pink, but she quirked her eyes with a questioning look. That’s it? she silently asked.

He winked at her, and her blush deepened. “Later,” he mouthed. 

---

“I have one question about all of this,” Adrien asked as they walked down the street. “What was the obvious hint that I missed? I know I talked to you a few times that day, and I can't figure out what it was. The offer of help?”

Nino and Alya had completely ditched them the moment brunch was over. Alya said normally they’d make up some excuse to manipulate them into being alone together. She’d paused dramatically to look at their intertwined hands before claiming she didn’t think she’d be needing schemes anymore, then told them to take advantage of the alone time. Adrien had promised her he would, all while Marinette sputtered in embarrassment.

“I made a cat pun,” she said. “A terrible, awful, bad cat pun. And I am ashamed.”

“What was it?”

“No way! I am not saying it again!” Her emphatic arm movements were hampered by his grip on her hand, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Marinette.” He slowed, and pulled on her arm until she stood facing him. They’d started their relationship hidden from everyone, with secrets and texts and masks coming between them. Now they were in public, where anyone could see them. “Can I kiss you?”

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” she said, tilting her head and closing her eyes.

“You?”

Her eyes snapped back open, though her head remained at the perfect kissing angle. “Yes, me. I didn’t think it was going to take you that long. I was dying!”

He took a step back, grinning. “I’m not sure if I want to kiss you now after all. Middle of the sidewalk’s probably not the best place for–”

Marinette pulled him down and planted her mouth on his, and his teasing argument died. Adrien felt like he was melting, being molded into a shape that fit her better. 

She pulled away too quickly, resting her forehead against his. People walked around them, just two regular teenagers kissing in public.

“Technically,” he said after catching his breath, “I think that was just you kissing me again.”

“You were kissing me back. It counts.”

“No.” He let go of her waist to cup her face. “This is me kissing you.” And he lowered himself to meet her.

The End

---

Tag list: @eclipsesmoonshine14 @maribugette @delectablycoolscientist @mlbigbang

If you’ve stuck around for the whole thing, thank you! If you’re interested, I’ve got over 70 other Miraculous stories of varying lengths for you to check out. And I’ve got a bunch more planned. Next up is a one-shot featuring half-reveal, pre-relationship Ladynoir, and an akuma whose power is to throw them into fanfiction tropes. Super fun! Plus a project that’s going to feature a lot of love square kisses! (Okay, well, actually two future projects fit that description, haha!) I hope you stick around! Thanks for reading and for all the comments!

I don't think I ever directly linked the artwork that goes along with this story, so here they are! Cover Ch 5 scene

[equallyshaw]

𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓭 | 𝓶𝓪𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝔃𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓾 ↠ weekends with the martins! - blurb ↠ au masterlist! ↠ word count 1.3K little longer than i wanted lol ↠ warnings: one swear word!

when olivia found out that mat out of all people, was being invited to her weekend with the martins- she was understandably annoyed. she was ticked, even. "you're kidding." was the first thing out of her mouth this morning, once sydney told her. matt smirked as he took in sydney's reaction, "why? what happened between you two?" sydney responded with a slight teasing tone. olivia rolled her eyes, "nothing happened." she said before sipping her hot coffee. sydney pressed, "well it doesn't seem like that. he left shortly after you went upstairs...if something did we won't be upset. right hun." she said whipping her head towards her husband who just nodded. "nothing happened, and if he said something did- he's lying." olivia rasped, before turning on her heel and heading over towards winnie in the playroom. sydney and matt looked at one another with a knowing look and in a hushed tone, "do you understand how many questions he's been asking about her? she said something to him and it's captivated him." matt said and that made sydney giggle. "y'know you did the same exact thing, right?" she teased before leaving him and alice in the kitchen.

_

a few hours later, the martins, mat and olivia were walking through east hamptons after a quick ride up east. it had snowed a few days prior, and the small historic beach town made olivia's heart swell. she absolutely adored new england, and this was close as she could get before going back out west. mat had barely said anything beyond greeting her, much to the redheads surprise. she believed he would ramble in her ear to death, but so far he's been respecting her space. "hey our friends invited us over to their place. is that ok? the kids will get tired out before we drive home." matt announced, as they walked back to the car after eating a late brunch. olivia and mat nodded, while helping get the two kiddos in the car. olivia hopped in the back first and buckled in winnie as sydney buckled in alice. "come on dude..let us buckle you." mat teased winnie, who shrieked in response. "dude." winnie repeated, as she let him buckle her. "yeah dude." matt repeated which caused winnie to laugh loudly once more. mat situated himself next to the girl, on the other end of the three seater. she could feel him staring at her, before looking away. she looked up at him, and took in his pink nose and rosy cheeks. she saw the sharp jawline creeping out from his winter jacket. he also had soft dark locks, poking out from his beanie - no toque - as he called it. she found herself staring a bit too long, and quickly looked away. not without mat noticing ofcourse.

matt drove them about 15 minutes away from downtown, and the group pulled up to a quintessential new england style house, making her smile. "are these the wilsons?" olivia asked unbuckling winnie for sydney, and sydney nodded. "yep, they're from the cape originally." she hummed and olivia giggled, "really? couldn't tell?" she teased referencing the hosue, causing sydney to smile. sydney knew just how much olivia adored new england, and the safety net it provided. as kids, that was there happy place away from the hustle and bustle of the football season, and there- the two could be as wild and free as they liked. mat let her out of the car first, after the two kids exited. as soon as olivia and mat began to walk up the pathway, olivia hit a small patch of black ice, and olivia quickly fell back with mat catching her just a bit. "woah..not so fast." he teased as his arms instinctively found her back, as her legs were taken out from under her. she clutched her chest, not believing that she hadn't fallen on her ass. "you good?" sydney asked concerningly, as she looked back after hearing a small shriek. "uh yeah." olivia said shaking herself from mat's grip. "you sure?" he questioned, and she looked back at him for a brief second. she responded with a small nod, before stepping around the ice and following the martins up the pathway.

"ive heard so much about you! im alyssa!" a tall brunette said, pulling the young girl into a hug. "you as well! im olivia." the redhead smiled, before turning back to make room for mat. "now I've heard so much more about you!" alyssa gushed causing sydney to chuckle at olivia's reaction. "our little ones are a HUGE fan." alyssa added and mat smile, "lets meet the gremlins." he joked, causing alyssa and her husband to laugh. "lets go!" alyssa said pulling olivia by the hand into the house, behind everybody.

the two toddlers, mat and olivia found themselves outside a little while late. olivia and mat pummeled each other with snowballs, making the two young ones laugh. "im getting you esiason!" he yelled, running after her. she shrieked once he grabbed ahold of her, and then the two fell over into the packing snow. "you minx!" olivia screamed, causing the two little ones to giggle. they made their descent onto the older pair, just as mat stared down at olivia. her pale freckled face, completely red and her button nose was deep red. "oh were getting you!" olivia screamed, pulling herself away from his gaze and towards her niece. olivia rolled herself out of his hold, and stood up holding out her arms pretending she was gonna scoop winnie up. mat picked up lily wilson, and twirled her around causing her to laugh loudly.

sydney and matt watched from inside, as the hosts grabbed some light cocktails. "god he is so smitten, its nauseating." matt said causing sydney to laugh loudly. "too bad she doesn't like him." sydney responded, taking ahold of the glass. "no?" alyssa questioned and sydney shook her head. "no she cant stand him, though- we suspect something happened between them at new years but both of them have been zip." she said shrugging. "oh yeah, if she doesn't like him- talk about chemistry." alyssa pointed out, before they heard the backdoor open.

_

the 6 of them headed back down to long island, and the martins offered the extra bedroom to mat who gladly accepted it, after an 11:30 pm arrival time. much, much later than they had anticipated. "can you show him the room and stuff?" sydney asked without waiting for an answer, while mat and her slipped upstairs to put the kids down. olivia sighed, before looking towards mat who was already staring at her. "are you 5 or can you find it yourself?" she questioned, annoyance lacing every word. she didn't wait for an answer, and headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

"what do you have against me, huh? you've been nothing but rude today." he said following her, hot on her tail. she sighed, "can you not? im not in the mood." she said beginning to drink her water. he shook his head, standing his guard as he leaned against the counter island. "you don't want me to say how i really feel, because it'll hurt your feelings pretty boy." she countered, and he chuckled. "so you find me attractive, who'd a thought?" he teased and she groaned. "you and you're goddamn arrogance." she rolled her eyes beginning to walk out. he grabbed her softly by the arm, and she waited a few seconds to look back at him. "see you around canadian boy." she taunted before pulling away. he watched her go and headed up the stairs a little bit later after collecting his thoughts.

then those sane and rational thoughts went out the door when he opened her door by accident and not his.

may have to write something about that ending...hehe

@toasttt11 @cillianthinker

[wildrangers]

Say Don't Go // Ryan Lindgren

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Your situationship with Ryan devolves

{For my 1989 Vaults Track Challenge}

Warnings/tropes: unresolved angst, allusions to sex but no smut (like PG-13ish), cursing, cliffhanger

As your eyes slowly opened to the bright morning light filtering through your windows, you had a blissful moment of ignorance. Where you didn’t remember last night or the previous six months, or think of him at all. But when your phone vibrated on the night stand, your traitorous mind thought ‘Is it Ryan?’ and it all came rushing back.

I’ve known it from the very start

We’re a shot in the darkest dark

Oh no, oh no, I’m unarmed

To Ryan’s credit, he’d been honest from the beginning. When you met him at a bar and had immediately gotten lost in his blue eyes, he’d been up front that he couldn’t commit to anything serious. He was entering the last season of his contract and didn’t know what the next year would bring—all he could focus on was playing his best to maximize his next deal.

And that was fine for you, really. You’d been in a long-term relationship that had been fizzling out for some time before you’d pulled the plug a few months before, so the excitement of a fling was exactly what you’d wanted. You’d gone home with him that night and, even though you’d exchanged numbers earlier in the evening, you assumed that was that. But when he texted you the following weekend to come over, you figured what was the harm? You were both on the same page—it was simple.

The pattern repeated for the next few weekends, until one night, as you lounged in his bed before gathering the energy to head home, he spoke up.

“Would you want to come to this dinner at my friend’s house?” he questioned and you turned to face him, brow furrowed. “What’s the face for?” he chuckled.

“Last I checked, keeping it casual and meeting friends is a bad combination.”

“I mean, you don’t have to, I just…they keep busting my balls that I’m making up that I’m seeing someone” he replied, face turning pink.

And that sign of embarrassment, of vulnerability, had kept you from pushing further. Were you seeing each other? Why was he talking to his friends about you? Did inviting you along change things between you?

“Sure, I’ll go” you shrugged, placing a kiss to his cheek before rising from his bed. “They’re going to adore me though and then you’re done for.”

And they had. You had immediately begun teasing Ryan with Adam, clicked with Adam’s fiancée Sam, and enjoyed goofing around with the few other teammates there. You’d been surprised by how seamlessly they pulled you into the fold. Alexis had invited you out with them the next weekend and Sam had insisted you join them for brunch the day after. When Ryan had simply shrugged when you looked at him for approval, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement, you’d agreed to them both.  

I’m standin’ on a tight rope, alone

I hold my breath a little bit longer

Months later, you were completely enmeshed in his life. You’d joined the group at bars to celebrate wins, partied with his friends, brunched with the significant others. You’d desperately wanted to revisit what you were to each other, what you were doing at this point. But you loved hanging out with him and his friends, bonding with the girls, and getting to see more and more of his world. You were afraid to upset the precarious balance you’d somehow found with him.

Tonight though, you were nervous. You’d joined Sam and other significant others at her house for a couple of games at this point but this was your first time going to the Garden.

“Don’t worry, the girls will meet you right inside the venue when I drop you off” Ryan offered, soothingly rubbing the back of your hand with a calloused thumb.

“I know, this just seems like a big deal, actually coming to a game” you hedged, gauging his reaction.

“You’ve wanted to though, right?”

“I mean, yeah I want to support you” you replied and watched as the corner of Ryan’s mouth turned up just before he lifted your hand to place a kiss to your palm.

“You’re the best” he said, the sincerity of his words making you ache.

Before you could respond, Ryan pulled over to the curb and placed a quick kiss to your lips. “Have a good game, Ry” you smiled, stealing another kiss before opening the car door.

“Are you down to go out later if it’s a good game?”

“Of course. Now, go before you’re late and have to do bag skates next practice” you teased, butterflies soaring in your stomach at his deep chuckle.

Several hours later, you were waiting with a few others girls down the tunnel following a Rangers win. Everyone had been so wonderful and welcoming, making sure you were comfortable and taken care of while you were in the suite. It made you feel like you could belong here, like these could be your people.

“There she is!” a familiar voice called, and you smiled as Sam ran to meet Adam halfway. Ryan came out seconds latere and you waited in place, unsure of what to do. Did you greet him with a kiss or keep it casual, since that’s apparently what you were to one another?

“Ryan Lindgren!” you heard a voice call from beside you and confusion flooded your system at the mischievous look in Vincent’s wife’s eyes.

“What?” he asked nervously, hand settling on your lower back.

“Why have you been hiding your lovely lady from all of us? She’s just the best! Much better company than your grumpy self—you’re lucky she puts up with you” she teased and Ryan threw his head back in laughter. You were taken aback, having just met the woman a few hours beforehand, but Ryan didn’t seem surprised by her outspokenness.

“Trust me, I know how lucky I am” he smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. “I just had to make sure she wouldn’t flee once she met you crazy lot.”

Everyone laughed, yourself included, as you turned your gaze to Ryan. He grinned down at you for a brief moment before placing a gentle kiss to your mouth, taking you by surprise. This was the first time he’d been physically affectionate with you while you were with his friends, beyond an arm around you or a hand in yours. You felt something shift between you in that moment and something like hope fluttered in your chest.

Why’d you whisper in the dark?

Just to leave me in the night?

Now your silence has me screamin’, screamin’

That night was different in every way. As the whole team and their partners overtook their local spot, Ryan never left your side. His hand was always somewhere on you—your shoulder, waist, hip, wrapped in your hair as he pulled you in for another deep kiss. The public affection was such a drastic change it was dizzying.

As people began to trickle out, you were giving Adam and Sam parting hugs. “Make sure you keep him in line, Y/N, he’s definitely hit his drink limit” Adam teased earning a playful push from his friend.

“You should know by now there’s no keeping this man anywhere he doesn’t want to be” you joked back, earning a parting laugh as they left the bar. You took another sip of your drink, turning to face Ryan when you felt his eyes locked on you. “What?”

“You should have warned me that I’d end up adoring you too” he said simply and your blood started roaring in your ears.

“What can I say? I’m irresistible” you teased and he smirked before pulling you into him, his mouth easily locking with yours.

When you two ended up in your bed shortly after, even that was different. Sex with Ryan was always good, as he was attentive to your wants and needs. But there had always been a barrier set between you, only allowing so much vulnerability while you were wrapped together.

Tonight, you were breathless from his near constant eye contact, his reverent kisses placed all over your body, his far gentler than normal pace. He was taking his time in a way he never had before, like he didn’t want this moment to end—and neither did you.

So, when you found yourself catching your breath beside him you took a risk, “Could you stay tonight?” you requested quietly, keeping your eyes closed to avoid his intense blue gaze.

“We agreed…” he started but trailed off.

You forced yourself to open your eyes after a heavy moment of silence. “We agreed on a lot of things that don’t seem to apply anymore” you pointed out and he gently moved a strand of hair from your face. “We’re already doing everything a couple does. I’m friends with your friends, I’m going to your games. Can you please just stay tonight?”

His eyes continued searching your face before he finally nodded, settling farther into your bed and pulling you into his side. As you settled on his chest, your breathing became synchronized as sleep approached. Just as it overcame you, you found yourself believing that this meant things were finally going to change between you.  

Despite these thoughts, when you awoke early the next morning you weren’t all that surprised by the coldness that met your outstretched hand rather than his warmth beside you.

Why’d you have to

Make me love you?

I say I love you

You say nothin’ back

The next week was the whiplash following a car wreck. You didn’t see Ryan, he ignored your calls, answered via text in one-word answers. You’d had enough of it, which is how you found yourself pounding on his door on a night you knew he had off work.

He finally opened the door, eyes widening when he realized it was you. “Y/N…I didn’t know we had plans.”

“Oh, fuck you Ryan, you know we don’t have plans and you know exactly why I’m here” you angrily retorted, breezing past him into his apartment. You refused to have this conversation on his door step.

“Enlighten me then” he replied and the coldness in his voice made you stop short.

“You’ve been ignoring me all week!”

“I’ve been busy.”

Rage and hurt roared through you as Ryan refused to engage with you, even though you were within feet of him.

“What are we?” you demanded.

“Y/N” he said, forced patience in his voice. “We both agreed from the beginning this was a casual thing.”

“It was so casual you introduced me to your friends?” you demanded and he refused to meet your gaze. “It was so casual you invited me to a game? So casual that you said you adored me that night, called me the best?”

“Adam was right, I’d had too much to drink.”

You stepped closer, taking his hands in yours, desperately trying to make him look at you. “Ryan, please, don’t say that.”

Only silence met you. “I think I’m falling in love with you” you admitted quietly, all the fight leaving your body. His only response was to remove his hands and take a step away.

The roaring sound of nothingness surrounded you two as you desperately waited for him to say something, anything, or at the very least look at you. “You don’t even have the guts to tell me to leave” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You’re a coward, Ryan, that’s what you are.”

And with that, you stormed out of his apartment.

I would stay forever if you say

“Don’t go”

But you won’t

You fought with yourself before finally reaching over to your nightstand to grab your phone.  

Can we talk?

He had some fucking nerve. You shook your head angrily, quickly rising from your bed. You didn’t bother to answer his message, instead directing your pent-up energy on removing any trace of him from your apartment, your life. You stripped the bed, tossed the snacks you kept on hand for him in the trash, placed any random objects he’d left behind in a box you’ give to Adam’s fiancée at some point soon. But you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away the jersey he’d given you just a week ago—so you threw it in the back corner of your closet, tossing random items on top to bury it.

By the time you rallied yourself enough to sit down with your phone, hours had passed. You took a deep breath and opened up your photo album, tears stinging to your eyes as you began selecting any that included Ryan to delete them. Halfway through, a new text popped up

Y/N, please, just say something

You scoffed at his nerve and replied only with a middle finger emoji. Your phone screen quickly lit up with his name before you slammed the side button to decline the call. Within seconds, he called back again and you repeated the process, this time shutting your phone all the way off. The digital detox could wait until later.

You shook your head to yourself as you switched into leggings and a crew neck, pulling socks onto your feet. You weren’t normally a huge runner but the nerve he had to demand a response from you after his stifling silence the night before had flooded your body with too much energy. So, you laced up your sneakers and left your apartment hoping to lose yourself in the movement of your body, the crowds of people in the city.

And it worked, mostly, anyway. You knew you couldn’t go back to him—couldn’t let him continue to have his cake and eat it too all while making you feel like shit. Making you feel like you’d imagined what had been developing between you these past months. The worst part was, if he had just acknowledged you last night, asked you not to leave, you would have stayed. Maybe forever. But that clearly was never going to happen.

As you trudged up your apartment steps, legs aching and desperately wanting a shower, you stopped short at the blonde man sitting beside your door. You were frozen, the air stripped from your lungs as his blue eyes rose to meet yours. You took a step back without thinking, unsure where you’d even go.

“Please, don’t go again.”

A/N: Okay, so this was my attempt at unresolved angst which I have never done. Honestly...kind of want to do a part two but only if y'all would be interested lol. More from my self-imposed challenge and the Winter Fic Exchange coming soon

[xiv-wolfram]

what would a lazy sunday look like for Wolfram and Rhau?

Thanks! That's a great question and I really had to think about it. I'm more of a GPoser than a writer, but this deserves a longer answer so I'll try my best! This may not fit everyone's definition of a lazy Sunday, but it's how a day where Wolfbahn doesn't have to work looks like.

As of the end of 6.0 they're married and live in Raubahn's suite within the Ala Mhigan palace. Their relationship isn't well known except to some of their friends and palace staff. It's a secret for now out of concern for causing political issues for the Scions. Their home:

Lazy Sunday

Sleeping in late is a must on any lazy day. They spend the morning snuggling under a thick comforter (for those surprisingly chilly Gyr Abanian nights). Raubahn always wakes first but on these days he pretends to be asleep just to enjoy more time as a little spoon even if Wolfram is snoring loudly in his ear. Once they finally start their day Raubahn takes a quick bath and makes the bed while Wolfram cooks brunch. One of their favorite dishes is Farmers Breakfast, which Wolf learned to make in La Noscea. The weather is nice so they take a stroll around the Royal Menagerie with their bulldog Terror before dropping him off with Arenvald for the day.

They return home to put on their armor then fly off to one of the many remote parts of Gyr Abania they like to explore. The afternoon is spent enjoying the scenery and time together. Wolf had finally asked Rau for some gladiator training so they find a good area to spar and do that for a while. Then they find a shady spot to cool off near a stream. One thing leads to another...

Once back in Ala Mhigo they invite Lyse, M'naago, and Arenvald over for dinner. Wolfram loves cooking for his friends even though discussions tend to veer off into matters of state. He cracks a joke to lighten the mood. No work on their lazy day! Arenvald asks if they could invite Fordola next time. A quick glance between the husbands tells each other that they're on the same page. Raubahn explains that they'd like to get to know her a bit better before trusting her with their secret. Arenvald points out that she has likely known for some time due to her synthetic Echo. The Aldynns laugh off their embarrassment in a most undignified fashion before promising to include her next time.

With their friends gone and the dishes done they retire to their very spacious bathtub, letting the warm water wash away the aches of the day. Wolfram complains that his hair is getting too long. Raubahn stops massaging his husband's scalp long enough to forbid the Warrior of Light from cutting his locks in a tone usually reserved for Monetarists he means to cut in half. Wolf laughs and promises he'll never speak of it again. They go to their bed, ending the lazy day... lazily.

Just kidding! They're newlyweds. They ain't goin to sleep yet! 😂

[dayeongi]

Well-wishes

I saw the texts come in this morning as I worked.

They came from a number I didn’t have saved, but I saw a preview on the notifications. Words like “I’m sorry” and “I didn’t know how to handle...” and my breath caught in my throat.

Almost as soon as I realized who it was, the last text came in. It said “i’m X.”

I managed to swallow the trepidation and finish off an email to let the dread settle comfortably before I opened them. They looked to be long and emotionally destructive.

X had been my best friend since the first day of preparatory school. From the very first day I got to school 3 hours early because I made a mistake with my timetable, and she asked if I was always early, and I said yes, and then that was the last time I was early to school.

She’d been there for 11 years. Through my father’s death of Covid, she had brought a chair and sat outside my house, brought me groceries, and chatted with me through the glass window for the entire 14 days I was quarantined. And that made it worth the times she’d stood me up or let me down, or made me wait for hours because there was always something going on.

She had been there through my first boyfriend and first serious crush (which were two different people). She had been there through the abusive household I lived in, and I was there through her first serious relationship with a mutual friend, from the beginning through its messy end, I chose her every time, because I thought that’s what best friends were like. And I was there as much as she let me be.

Last I’d heard from X was in 2021, she’d told me she was in an unsafe situation with her stepfather at home, and asked if she could move into my spare room, and pay rent. I said come, don’t pay rent, just help with the utilities and groceries.

She said yes, and dropped off some of the things that same day, and she slept over. Next morning before she left for work, she said she’d drop by her current place and pick up the rest of her stuff after work. I said I’d wait for her to come back to order groceries so we could save on delivery fees and gave her my spare set of keys.

She called during work hours, and said she would be coming over tomorrow; she was afraid of her stepfather so she wanted to get her things out when they were out.

I said that was fine since she had keys anyway, and asked if she wanted me to wait to order groceries.

She didn't show up the next day. Or the next.

This was normal from her. She never kept her word.

I messaged just to check on her and ask if she still wanted me to hold off on the groceries.

No response for another two days. I started to get nervous. I ordered the groceries because I'd ran out of stuff, and messaged her again.

I let her know I could just take care of the delivery fees. No response for the rest of the day.

Then, a premade-like message. "I'm sorry, I can't answer right now, but I'll get back to you ASAP."

Like the ones you set up on your phone to be sent automatically.

I started to panic, because I didn't know her stepfather, and in my country, you can make people disappear with under 100 gbp, and she'd recently had experienced a situation almost like that with a taxi driver.

I thought, "what if I'm sitting here, thinking she's fine and just not getting back to me, and instead she's dead in a ditch somewhere."

My best friend of 11 years.

I called several times. Several being maybe 4 times in the span of an hour, which wasn't strange for us.

I calmed myself, and decided I'd been dumb not to check on her social media; I normally don't check people's profiles at all.

What I saw was surreal. I'd been there, sitting in my living room floor thinking my best friend was dead; she had been so urgent, and seemed so frightened.

During that time, she had been going on brunches, and on a roadtrip with her fiancé.

The change of plans itself was irrelevant. It was the lack of consideration. The shamelessness of putting me on hold without giving me a word.

I called her again. No response. I stewed on it for another two days, waiting to hear back.

Nothing.

I sent her a message. "I just think it's unfair that you asked me to do this for you, then left me waiting here to hear back from you for over a week, worried out of my mind."

No response that day. Or the next. I message her again. "Please let me know when I can go pick up the stuff (I'd lent her for a trip)"

No response, until later that day. It has been 2 weeks since she came to my house panicking about needing somewhere to stay immediately.

There was no apology. Instead she said she would drop off my spare set of keys, and she needed some space from me, and maybe one day we could be friends again once I was in a better headspace.

That she had no reason to report what she was up to every minute of her life, and that if it had been such a pain to wait for her, to not bother.

To add insult to injury, that she loved me and would be there for me if I ever needed anything.

I snarked back. I said things like "I don't need to know every single thing you do every single minute, and sorry I give a shit about you"

Then she took everything I'd ever trusted her with, all the times I'd been frustrated with my family and told her, and used it to say I was the problem, that I was the reason I always had interpersonal conflict, and the reason my life was the way it was, and I needed to reflect on myself and the shit path my life was taking.

She sent me her love again. My best friend of 11 years.

I didn't send her love back. I only asked to get my shit.

I will spare anyone who is reading the boring negotiations and promises she never kept to give me back my stuff, until she finally did.

She dropped them off at my place. It was raining. I awkwardly avoided looking anywhere above her hands; I knew I would cry if I did.

I thanked her as I closed the door out of politeness.

On text, after I'd closed the door after myself, she'd sent me her love and well-wishes again.

Like she hadn't riled me up and prepared me to help her. Like I was a wet stray under the rain she looked at pitifully.

Well-wishes. Hah.

I blocked her the very moment I saw them.

I hadn't hear from her in a while until a mutual friend shared the photos of her wedding.

She had taken the dream wedding dress design I'd made for myself, that I had so delicately and secretly shown her, and made it for herself.

I blocked every mention of her from everywhere, and over time I realized, I was starting to feel like a full person again as soon as I stopped constantly giving her everything.

I put my face on the desk.

Which brings me to today, and the 5 deleted messages. From an unknown number.

I pointed out I could see someone had tried to message me.

"sorry, I got the wrong number," she said, and I thought: how fucking unfair to mess up my tuesday and try to play me for a fool. How fucking evil and selfish of X to wish me a good day and try to deceive me into taking her well-wishes again. All for her own comfort or healing or whatever she was trying to do by messaging me on a fucking tuesday.

But, honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to X. Too much has happened. Too much time has passed.

I didn't want to be carrying around a piece of her anymore. So I pretended to buy it.

And X decided to text me back. "Sorry. I actually didn't get the wrong number. But I don't want to tell you who I am because I'm afraid. Regardless, I just want to wish you a good day."

Some part of me relished in the fact that she was scared. So I said "thank you, X."

I wanted her to feel what I felt when I saw her messages pop up on the screen, then disappear.

Maybe I wanted to fuck up her tuesday too because I'm also a coward.

And because I'm a coward, I pretended I guessed, but wasn't sure if it was really X.

"We can play a guessing game. I'm someone who likes to shop around for useless stuff. And I always scolded you for eating your fries before your burger."

And I said "so you're really X." Even though I'd always known, from the 5th, deleted message.

Bracing myself for impact, I read the messages she sent after. About how sorry she was about everything that happened, that she had been a fool and I'd been a great friend, and she hopes everything is going well for me.

How if I ever wanted to, we could go get a burger together again.

For a moment, I thought about saying yes. Because she'd been my best friend for 11 years. Because I was lonely. Because she remembered I like to eat my fries before the burger.

Then, I remembered how she'd known exactly how to hurt me and hadn't hesitated in my lowest moment, then skipped-off into the sunset with my dream wedding dress for a wedding I haven't been able to hold for myself. Apparently now self-reportedly with regrets.

How she had selfishly tried to give me unsolicited well-wishes to ease her own guilt.

Too much has happened. Too much has been said. Too much time has passed. The scar of the space where she used to be is old and gnarled, but a scar.

I replied, "I'm also sorry about how everything happened, and I always did wish you the best."

X seemed to falter. She typed and deleted. Typed and deleted.

She thanked me for giving her my time.

She said she hadn't know how to handle her own situation and emotions and everything had just gone out of control, and she'd done it all before she'd realized it, and then got scared to try to fix it.

X seemed to have realized what I meant by not responding to her burger invitation thing.

She said again she'd kept me in her good memories, and although she knew things couldn't ever be the same again, that she regretted it.

I thanked her, etcetera. Wished her a good life.

Sincere, I mean. 

I'm not sure if I was sincere, this only happened today. I don't know what I'm feeling.

But I want to think my well-wishes were. 

It's the best I can give her now.

I want to think I said it out of gratitude for those 11 years. For the time she stood outside my house when I was afraid I was dying every time I gasped for breath.

Of the time that I told her I was afraid I wanted to off myself, and she drove to my house at 12:35 AM and held me as I cried.

Well-wishes. 

The only thing I'm willing to give her now.

[katieslondonadventures]

                                    Thanksgiving Break Festivities

This week, my family is celebrating thanksgiving at home and it is the first time that I am starting to struggle with being homesick, while here in London. My grandparents come over and we have a good day, as a family. We eat a lot of delicious food and watch American football for most of the day. My favorite dish on the thanksgiving table is mashed potatoes and gravy. I am sad this year that I will be missing it and some of my friends have been feeling the same way. We decided to go out to dinner to pretend like we are having thanksgiving too, but it just wasn’t the same. The other thing I love about thanksgiving is that the next day is Black Friday. Every year, after my cousins come over for dessert on thanksgiving night, I go home with them and we go to bed early. This way, I can wake up early and go out shopping Black Friday, with my aunt and cousin. After we spend the morning going to our selected stores, we head to a breakfast place to have a quick brunch, then comes time for a nap. That night, I usually watch a Christmas movie with my family to kick off the upcoming holiday season. Then the rest of the weekend is spent wrapping up all the Christmas presents that my mom and I have gotten so far and starting to decorate the house. It is a very quick transition from Thanksgiving to Christmas at my house, but I love both holidays and spending time with my family. 

[vxntagedior]

arrangements

summary | to keep him under her power, sirius got married

pairing | sirius black x fem!reader

warning | angst, mentions of abuse, fluff ending

word count | 1.0k

The house was dark and cold, something that didn’t surprise you. It was the recurring theme when you met the Blacks, how they strived for perfection, taking the straightest pass no matter how it was.

Sirius was never home, going out in the mornings saying he would go hang out with his friends and not coming home late, usually drunk.

And though he was a complete ass to you, you still nursed him back until he fell asleep.

From the moment Sirius met you when the two of you were children, it was like it was his plan to make your life miserable. It was before his parents tried to warp his brain, it was like you were made for him to hate.

It grew worse as the two of you got older, the talk of marriage was something both of your families thought about since your births, until Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor.

Per usual, you were sorted into Slytherin, making you the apple of his parents eye, constantly being compared to you on how well of a pureblood you were.

As you grew older and did finally get married, you tried to make it work, but he always pushed you away. His friends tried to help the two of you, James and Remus felt bad for you, seeing how hard you tried just for him to talk to you, yet there was no avail.

Every morning was the same, waking up to an empty bed, quietly going down to the kitchen to make your breakfast.

Standing in front of the stove, scrambling your eggs together, hearing the toaster go off.

“Didn’t know you could cook.” You turned, seeing Sirius leaning against the wall.

“I learned for you.” You hated to say it, your life was now dependent on him. “Would you like some?”

“No, I’m about to go out.” He said curtly, it hadn’t been as harsh compared when he talked to you before.

You didn’t hear him leave, just continuing to make your breakfast before heading to the table.

It was long, one chair on each end, the sound of your chewing filled the silence of the manor.

As you were alone in the manor, Sirius had met up with Remus, James and Lily for brunch.

The four catched up with each other, James and Lily talking about their upcoming wedding.

“I was wondering if Y/n would like to be a bridesmaid.” Lily asked Sirius. Though you and Sirius were married for a year, she only met you once during your reception after his parents left, you had been sitting at the table by yourself watching everyone dance and drink.

“Sure you want that stick.” Sirius chuckled.

“Sirius.” Lily frowned. “That’s your wife. I understand it’s rough but she loves you and you love her.”

“I could never love her.” Sirius spat. His friends frowned, saying no more, going back to their brunch.

-

Befriending house elves was the only thing you could do, you didn’t have friends to go out with and didn’t have any errands. To contrary belief, you adored your house elves going up, they were more parents than your own, they earned your respect at a young age.

“Mistress.” One squeaked seeing you in the kitchen once again preparing for dinner. The most they did around the house was pick up every once in a while, maybe dust. You tried giving them clothes, yet none wanted them to leave.

Serving dinner, on the table, you sat at the end of your table, hearing Sirius coming down the stairs. Entering the room, he looked over at his seat and yours, slowly picking up his plate, coming to sit next to you.

You looked up from your plate, seeing him sitting to your right, shocked to say the least.

“How was your day?” You asked quietly returning your dinner.

“‘S good.” He said. “Lily urm, asked you to be a bridesmaid for her wedding.”

“Oh.” You said surprised, you assumed none of his friends liked you. “That would be nice, don’t have many friends.”

Your last sentence caused Sirius to frown, noticing how you never left the manor unless you truly needed to and no one really came over except for his friends.

“I’m sorry for being a bad husband.” He rang his head in defeat. “I’ve been rude to you since we were children, and I thought if I kept it up, maybe my mother would change her mind.”

The scars still lingered on his back, looking at them each night, most of the scar faded away but it was prominent to see.

That was a curveball for you, hearing how vulnerable he was confessing how he truly felt.

“It’s okay.” You gave him a small smile, resting your hand on top of his.

“How are you smiling?” He laughed lightly.

“Everyone always said my heart wasn’t truly Slytherin.” You said. “But I’m happy, maybe I won’t have to spend the rest of my life heartbroken.”

Taking your hand in his, lifting the back of your hand to his lips, giving your knuckles two small kisses.

“You know I fancied you throughout Hogwarts.” He said. “Waited for you to come out each morning, hopefully seeing you before class.”

Your heart swelled, knowing your feelings were reciprocated.

“You know we can’t pretend nothing in the past has ever happened.” You dreaded saying that just wanting to stay in your happy place with him.

“I don’t know how else I can apologize,” Sirius looked down. “I was horrible to you and I’m sorry.”

It was the first apology you took from him.

From there each morning, you were woken up next to him and a gift on your nightstand whether it be flowers, chocolate, anything you could dream of.

During meals, the two of you would sit next to each other, go out with his friends.

The two of you stood behind James and Lily as they were married, both of you getting teary eyed during their vows, Sirius more than you.

“I love you.” You mouthed to him.

Sighing in the contentment, he replied, “I love you too.”

fin.

[ramp-it-up]

The One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warmings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, running, a raging argument in an established relationship, name calling, taunting, drunken raging, Twitter. SMUT, explicit, rough sex, fingering, tit slapping, orgasm denial, spitting, oral sex (mostly female receiving). Also, I’m sleepy. 😴

A/N: Not proofread. Also, I know very little about Chris and Jenny, and have no real opinion about their relationship. I made up the scenario about what happened there for the purposes of the story. THANKS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS TONIGHT! 🥳🎉🎊🍾👏🏽🎈

This fic is based on the following ask:

Anonymous asked:

Imagine idea :

Chris is drunk after a fight with the reader. He was On Twitter and saw some pics with Jenny and when the reader comes in he screams at her and says that Jenny was the one and not the reader. The reader get sad because she was always kind of insecure about the age gap with Chris. The day after he didn’t know what he says and she don’t say anything because she got the feeling that he was right. But one thing both didn’t noticed that Chris was drunk calling Scott and he knows everything Chris says and drive to Chris to give him a good clamp ahahhaha Chris was drunk and Just mentioned her name because he saw a post with Jenny.

------------------

It had been the perfect day.

You slept in, then had a late brunch at home. 

You saw a message from Chris’ former co-star, Heidi, light up his phone that he’d plugged in on the kitchen counter when you two were tidying up.

You wondered why he was texting the bitch even after you told him that she wanted him. And after he agreed to cut off contact out of respect for you.

Heated, you didn’t even look around before you picked it up, put in his code and read a string of friendly, if not borderline flirty, texts.

Chris walked in the kitchen, caught you, and yelled at you for being in his phone. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly! What is going on, Chris. I thought we talked about this?” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.”

You threw his phone on the marble countertop, which caused Chris to pick it up to see if it was cracked. Your temper was too much.

“We’re just friends! She knows we’re together, y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I know women, Chris. That doesn’t fucking matter to her. Sometimes you���re so oblivious. Or act like you are.” You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I know you want to leave me for someone more glamorous and beautiful. Someone who will put up with your shit, everyone the media says you’re fucking. Go ahead and just do it!”

Chris’s temper was really rising now. You could tell as the red creeped up his chest to his neck. 

“Stop fucking saying that!” Chris was screaming now. “Is that what you want? To end it? Because you don’t have to make me do it. If you want to leave, just leave.”

You said shit like that a lot. And it scared and angered him. He wanted to know if you were trying to make him break up with you so you would be free.

“Why are you being such a fucking…” Chris stopped himself. He knew better than to call you out of your name.

Your head almost spun around. You smiled evilly. 

“Go ahead, say what you wanna say, Chris. Or are you scared?”

Chris exploded. “A fucking BITCH.”  He was shaking because you went there.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Chris lost it and punched the wall, making a hole in the drywall and definitely injuring his hand.

You just stood there with your mouth open and in silence. You went toward him to look at his hand, and he just put both of them up, backing away from you and going to the liquor cabinet.

He retreated to the deck with a bottle of Jameson’s. He wanted to dull the pain, in his hand, and in his heart. He hated when you hurt each other.

You understood that you both crossed the line, so you let him be. You went upstairs to change into your running clothes to get out and clear your head.

Chris settled on a deck lounger, started drinking from the bottle and got online, which is never a good thing, but he needed something to distract him. He started reading tweets about himself, and following a thread of Chris + Jenny stans.

The more he drank, the more he started reminiscing.

There were good times. He was happy. Mostly. He thought she was the one. Sometimes. But she broke his heart. He was just a rebound. 

Her handsome arm candy.

Then he thought of you. His heart melted; you really loved him. He was sure of it. But loving him was hard. He realized that you felt the same way about him that he felt about Jenny. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Insecure. 

And you had good reason to be. Everything you’d said about women coming after him was true. But what you didn’t realize is that since he’d met you other women didn’t matter to him. 

You were the one, not Jenny.

Chris began to get melancholy. He’d fucked up. You were nothing but good to him and you just asked him to respect you and listen to your feelings. He’d ignored that. 

Shit, why did he yell at you like that?  

He went to erase Heidi’s contact and block her number. He was confident that you were never going to throw him away like Jenny did. She was the one who’d hurt him. Not you. Never you. He recognized that you wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.

His mind was racing with how to apologize when you came back. He was an idiot. The pain in his heart was replaced with regret and his hand had slowed to a dull throb.

But then 30 minutes turned to 3 hours, and by the time you got back, the bottle was empty and Chris’s eyes were red with rage and worry. 

Maybe you were just like Jenny after all.

--------

You ran, and then went to get some coffee. You ran into Shelby at the cafe and distracted yourself with mindless chatter, then walked back. You were ready to apologize by the time you opened the door.

When he heard the door, Chris picked up his phone and met you in the living room. He was obviously shitfaced.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?” 

Chris’s voice boomed throughout the house and you jumped. Then you just stood there, shocked at his outburst. 

“The hell are you talking to me like that?” 

He was unsteady on his feet. He leaned toward you, and you could tell that someone was spinning the room for him.

“I don’t want it to be you!” 

He had to let you know that he knew that you wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. Chris pointed his phone at you. 

“You’re not the one. Jenny’s the only one. Not you! Not ever you!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. But then again you could. It was what you were afraid of. You were head over heels. And Chris could find someone on his level. Like Jenny.

“Well, Fuck You very much, Chris.” 

You brushed your tears away and ran past him up the stairs to the bedroom, locking the door and crying your eyes out. You got out your suitcase.

----

Chris started up after you, calling your name, and then suddenly needed to duck in the downstairs bathroom to throw up. 

He tried to make it up the stairs and had to sit down on the floor near the bottom. Then, he needed to lay down just for a minute.

The next thing Chris knew, it was morning, and he woke up to a pounding on the door and in his head. He rolled over on the floor, and something stabbed him in the side.

Groaning, he reached down and saw your keys to his house, his cars, and his life, all on the Tiffany heart keychain he’d given them to you. He was staring at them, confused, when Scott opened the door with his key.

“There he is. My brother. The fuck up.”

Chris groaned again, sat up on the bottom stair and held his head. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nevermind me. It’s not often I get to say that, only when you publish your dick pic to the internet or you RUN OFF THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!”

Chris winced when Scott yelled, his head a pounding mass of meat wrapped in fuzzy cotton. 

He didn’t understand why he was being tortured and he didn’t understand why his hand hurt.  He looked at it, all bruised up, and the keys inside it.

“Just tell me, Scott. Why are you here?”

Scott leaned up against the door. 

“Did you know you drunk dialed me last night?” 

Chris looked up at Scott, and his face was a sight as his brother told him what he’d said to you.

“Fuuuuuck me!” He put his head in his hands again. 

“I don’t know if she ever will again,” Scott joked, but Chris didn’t laugh. 

“I called her after you apparently passed out and wouldn't pick up your phone.  She was ready to catch an early morning flight, but I convinced her to sleep in today and leave tomorrow.”

Chris moved his hands down from his eyes and stared out the patio doors, trying to think.

“I put her up in the Four Seasons, on your dime of course.  Room 6145. Penthouse. Could be pretty romantic. If she were in that kind of mood.”

Chris looked up at Scott, smiled weakly, jumped up and hugged him, then made for the door. Scott jumped in front of him.

“Trust me, you’ll want to get some water and coffee in you, and shower and brush your teeth. You look and smell like shit.”

“Right.” Chris nodded, flexing his hand. He could still move it. He was glad it wasn’t broken. “Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Scott walked into the bathroom as Chris went to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the hole in the wall. He’d have to ask Scott to get it fixed before you saw it again. 

If he could convince you to come back.

----

It was 11 am, and Scott had verified that you were still in the room. Chris just stood there, nervous and terrified that you were just going to be done with him.

Room service came and headed toward your door. Chris waved them down and when they saw his face, they stopped in their tracks, shocked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

----

You climbed out of the wonderful deep jetted tub, having soaked until the water got cold and your fingers were wrinkled. You pulled on the plush Four Seasons terry cloth robe that was provided with the suite.

You felt calmer than last night, and after some sleep and relaxation, you realized that you’d been a fool to think that Chris would want you forever like you thought.

It was for the best that you leave and start over, to focus on your consulting business and yourself for a while.

You opened the door with a smile on your face for the attendant, and you let them into the room, your back turned to the door while they brought the cart in. You turned back around and there was Chris.

You grew heated, and your heart began to race while the attendant scurried out. Chris’s face was a welcome sight, but you were still angry.

There you were, looking so beautiful, curls tied up in your favorite silk scarf, cocoa skin radiant in a white fluffy robe.  You should have been comfortable, but your eyes were wide and scared.

He’d done this to you.

“Fuck, y/n… I…”

You interrupted him. 

“You’ve got some mutha fuckin nerve. How dare you just run up in here, using that fucking face,” you flung your hand up, “using who you are to get into my room. How did you even know where…?”  

Your mouth dropped open at the realization of what Scott had done. You turned on your heel to get your things. You didn’t care that you were naked under your robe. You didn’t care that you still loved Chris. You were out. This second.

Chris moved to block you from entering the bedroom of the suite. You tried to push past him, all 5’ 4” of you versus 6 feet of him.

“Move, Chris!” 

You glared up at him, your body responding to him in ways you weren’t prepared to admit. You were betrayed by your pussy.

“I just want you to listen to me.  Then you can leave, stay, do whatever you want. Just hear me out.”

You and him physically was always the shit. His arms across his chest did things to you  But you kept mean mugging him, making him hard for you. 

You stepped back and said, “Okay.  You have 10 minutes.  Then I’m out, Chris.”

You paced back to the couch in the living room of the suite, watching him warily.

Chris paced in front of you, making it inevitable that you follow his lean form back and forth across the carpet. You noticed that his hand was bandaged and that he kept flexing it. 

You hoped it wasn’t broken. No matter what, you cared what happened to him. You would always love him. Even if it was the end of your relationship.

“First of all, I’m sorry. My anger got the best of me, and I was violent and that is never acceptable.  Even though I didn’t touch you, it’s not ok, and I know it was intimidating. I take responsibility.”

He stopped and looked at you, you melted a little, but you didn’t give any outward sign. Being a business owner taught you a mean poker face. 

But the shirt he was wearing made his true blue eyes pop and you could see a hint of his chain around his neck under the fitted henley.

You suppressed a shiver at the memory of the things you did to have that chain and medallion wave in your face, to have it clenched between your teeth as Chris had his way with you, and you with him.

You focused on him, pointedly looking at your watch. Chris’ anxiety peaked when he saw that.

He stepped toward you and thought that he recognized the look in your eyes.  He was almost sure that you still wanted him, sure that you still cared.  He could only hope as he came closer.

“And then I started drinking. And while you were gone, I came across some posts about me and Jenny. And it took me back there.”

At those words, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes, defenses up. You didn’t want to hear about how much he loved Jenny.

Then, Chris swiftly moved to sit on his haunches, becoming eye level with you.  

“And I realized that she never really loved me. Not like you loved me.”  

Chris speaking about your love in the past tense made you a little angry and you stared him in the eyes. 

It was just the reaction he hoped for. Your attitude. He loved it. He hid a smirk so that he could continue, but you saw the glimmer in his eyes. And you rolled yours.

Chris then picked up the sash to your robe and started playing with it, your eyes drawn to his thick fingers. You didn’t know why that was getting you hot, but it was. You opened your mouth to breathe.

Chris’s voice cracked when he said. “And to me she was the mountaintop. Another, different kind of conquest. But I realized that I never really loved her. Not like I love you.”

Present tense.

Now you were looking into his eyes, about to fall into them. Shit. He had you hooked. But then you remembered, and drew back.

“Yeah, I know what I said, but what I was trying to express was that I know it could never be you to hurt me like Jenny did. That I didn’t want you to hurt me like she did. Not when I’ve thought about forever…” 

He moved even closer. “I mean forever, forever, with you.”

All of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Chris got on his knees.

“I want to be in this position again with you one day. One day soon. But not like this. I don’t want it to be to try to get you back. I want us to be good.” 

He sighed, pensive. “I want you to be smiling and happy, and even have our families there.”

You don’t know how your face looked at that moment, but Chris started smiling at you. You were so beautiful to him right now.

“I was drunk, and I couldn’t use my words correctly. I yelled and I screamed and I punched the wall. I fucked up and may have lost you forever, but I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

You felt yourself get emotional, but you tried to calm down.

“I’m just so fucking scared that you will get tired of all the bullshit that comes with me and leave… and I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. But there’s no one else, y/n.  No one else can compare…”

“Chris…” 

You raised your hand to his face, eyes searching his. You could tell he was being honest.

Chris grabbed your hand and started kissing your palm.

“So.” He looked at you with those eyes. “Is this goodbye?…” His lips were giving you shivers. “Or hello again? Can we start over?”

Chris trailed his lips from your palm, to the pulse point at your wrists and lingered there, licking the delicate skin. Then he moved up your arm to the opening in the robe. 

He pushed his torso in between your legs and leaned into your neck, inhaling the lavender bath oil that was your favorite. And his, too. 

He moaned as you leaned your head to the side, giving him access. But he didn't just want the physical. He breathed into the shell of your ear. 

“Please come home, baby…”

You just moaned as he started sucking right below your ear, your spot. Desire took over for Chris when he heard your sounds.

“Fuck it. I can tell that you still want me. If this is goodbye, then I’m going to make it worth your time.”

Your back arched and Chris palmed your bounteous ass over the robe, pulling you flush to his crotch.  He smiled as he felt the warmth coming from you.

“You’re so fucking warm, babe. Are you wet, too?  Are you wet for me? Do you want my cock? I mean, do you want your thick, fat, cock to fuck you babe?” 

Chris was kissing down your neck into the cleavage that the robe was revealing with each sentence as you opened your legs. Your pussy was quivering for him, but you still didn’t answer him.

Chris looked up at you with those eyes and pulled on the robe sash. It fell open and he looked down and bit his lip, taking in your warm skin, lovely breasts, and elegant pussy, with the manicured triangle of hair kept like he preferred, and offered up for his taking. 

You still looked like his girl, and he smiled as he looked up into your eyes. But he had to be certain. He lowered his head, keeping eye contact and descended toward one small hard mountain peak, kissing it gently, tentatively, while watching you.

You were mesmerized as his tongue peeked out and licked it, then he opened his lips and enveloped it, moistening it with his pink lips. 

The look on your face compelled him, and he fully enveloped your nipple and started sucking roughly, still keeping eye contact. You were determined not to close your eyes, but it was difficult. You bit your lip to stay still.

Chris’s bandaged hand was dangerous, however, and it came up to pinch and roll your other nipple. You arched into his hand as he became rougher and rougher. 

He switched nipples and hands and his saliva made your breast that much more pliable and sensitive. He slapped it, and then rubbed it with the rough bandage, making you cry out and moan as his other hand trailed down your body to your cunt.

“This pussy will still be mine, even if you leave me.” He smiled cockily while looking down on it. 

He looked at you, before lifting his hand to his mouth, looking straight into your eyes and spitting on his fingers before bringing them down to your cunt.

“I think, that if even if you leave and  move back to Houston, and I come to town, that if I I call you, even if you’re with someone else, you would meet me in a parking lot and let me fuck you over the hood of my rental car.” 

He was faintly tracing your pussy lips and instantly your control was gone. You were sopping wet, because of his words and because of the knowledge that what he was saying was the truth.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You were adding to the wetness of the saliva on his fingers.

Chris smiled and tilted his head as his two thick digits breached your opening. He had his answer as you threw your head back and let him finger fuck you while he rolled and slapped and pinched your nipple.

His thumb was lightly brushing your clit and you wanted so much more.  Chris could sense that and he pressed down roughly on it, causing an electric jolt up your body, which you keened for, arching your body into his hand.

Chris moved his hand from your breast to your neck and applied the pressure that you wanted and needed and that he was expert at while he stuffed another finger inside you and circled your clit with his thumb. 

You floated among the clouds as you came like fireworks, and all over his hand.  

He watched you come undone, and come down, rubbing his hard cock through his pants with one hand while he sucked your juices off his fingers, releasing each with a loud pop.  When you opened your eyes, you smiled.

You pulled his hand and started licking yourself off him, flattening your tongue against his palm. 

“I forgive you Chris. I forgave you when you conned your way into my room, you ass.” 

You smiled against his hand as he groaned, relieved and desperate for you.

“But you still have some work to do.”

“What do you want? Anything.”  

Now Chris was breathless, anticipating payback.

“First, you need to take those damn clothes off.”

He quickly moved to take off his shirt, and then stood up to take off his pants.  You smirked as hs cock sprang up immediately when he peeled them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Chris caught your look. 

“What? I wanted to be prepared.”  He chuckled softly while pumping his cock lightly, expecting to immediately fuck you.

He moved toward you. But you quickly moved off the couch and into the bedroom, forcing him to follow you, and his dick, into the other room.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he remained standing. 

“What do you need, babe?”

You reached for his cock and tugged it toward you, opening your mouth and deep throating it, wetting it from root to tip and then spit on it. Chris moaned as you started to stroke. Then you stopped.

“I need you to jack off for me.” 

“Ugh! You’re so fucking nasty. I love you.”

Chris instantly started where you left off. This didn’t seem like work.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, and licking your lips.

“And I need for you not to stop, and not to come. Until I tell you.” 

You looked him in the eye and that was when Chris knew he was doomed.  A chill ran down his spine as you reached down and started playing with your pussy.

“Fuck!”

You looked so damn good.  He licked his lips and stroked harder and faster, his balls drawing up already. 

“Shit, y/n.”

You watched his eyes, and got wetter at his blown pupils and glazed look. 

“You like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”  

His voice was broken and desperate. He fisted his cock, and held his balls, trying to stave off the inevitable. 

You turned around, got on your knees and reached back between your legs and ran your fingers up and down your slit.

“How about that?”

“Goddamnit!” 

Chris grunted as he tried to hold it in. You were a goddess. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste you. So he did. 

He dove in, tongue competing with your fingers to command your slit. You finally gave in to his expert mouth and he savored your salty goodness.

“Fuck, Chris, you better still be…”

“I am. Christ.” 

He was leaking in his hand, but he had it under control. Barely.

Chris stopped eating you out for a second, grabbed your ass cheek with one hand, stretched you open, spit on your tighter hole, and watched it slide down your satin lips to drip onto the bed. 

His warm saliva made your pussy quiver and he watched it lovingly. Then he dove in again.

He sped up his movements with his other hand and you could hear the smooth skin of his dick sliding on his palm while his tongue did forbidden things to you.

“Ffffffuuckkkkkkk! Chrisssss.” 

You came, burying your scream in the mattress, and even harder than before. You couldn’t believe that he’d turned the tables on you.

Chris ate you out through your orgasm, holding you down with one hand like it was nothing. 

He was god of war, love, and sex, all at once. 

Fuck Captain America.

You came again, almost immediately.

When he was done with his meal, he let you go, wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and stepped back.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do? I can’t take it much longer…” Chris’s sexy growling voice got to you. 

“What do you wanna do, Chris? How do you want to take me, Daddy?”  Chris’s cock jumped in his hand, he slapped your ass, and watched it jiggle.

Chris entered your wet, wet pussy, and marvel how if felt like it was choking the life out of him.  He had to stop moving, or he would burst almost immediately.

“How the fuck are you so wet, but so tight.  It’s like a fucking vice grip, geeze.” 

You both waited and felt it jump inside you, then Chris reached down, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you upright and flush to his chest.  

One hand clutched your throat and the other arm hooked under your leg, allowing him to piston up into you upright while your other leg dangled, your big toe barely touching the ground.

Chris held you and fucked up into you, grunting each time the large mushroom cap head of his cock was stuffed into your pussy. 

“Ugh, gatdamn it, you were thinking of leaving, ugh, you wanted to leave this, mmmmmm, this dick that, ugh, that fucks you like this?” 

Chris’s mouth was near your ear, which was on his shoulder because your head had fallen back on his chest. He was using you like a sex toy as he fucked you senseless. 

His dick slicked in and out of you with obscene wetness, Chris somehow lifting you up and slipping completely out of you and pounding back into you with force.

“Chris!!!” 

You started shaking, your center of gravity being where you and he were connected.

He fucked you even harder and faster, chasing his release, but he maneuvered his hand to find your clit, refusing to come before you. 

“Fuck! You know you were going to miss this cock that your sweet cunt fits… like…  a …mutha …fuckin…  glove!” 

"Ahhhh!" 

You screamed as you fluttered around his cock. He could take only so much before he had to shut his eyes and bite down on your collarbone. Chris’s legs were trembling now.

"Take all of it!." He was hitting your spot.  "How does it feel?" 

Although the feeling was intense, you tried to speak. 

"L-l-l-like h-heav-v-v-ennnnn." 

The sound of your voice made his release start to build. 

With each of his thrusts, the sweet tightness began to build until you came, screaming and moaning in pleasure.

“Oh shiiiiitttttt!”  Chris exploded inside your tight wet cunt. He wanted to fill you up like never before. He wanted to put his baby in you and tie you forever to him. That made his balls empty.

He fell back on the bed, with you on top of him, slipping out of you and depositing you on the bed beside him.

Chris couldn't help but smile as you both came down.  He was made for this.

Chris put his hand on your cheek, brushing your beautiful lips with his thumb. You smiled under his attention into his sea blue eyes.

“I love you.” You grinned. 

“God, I love you.”  You sobered up, taking in the weight of his words.

“Is it weird that I want to get you pregnant before we’re married?”

You made a face.

“Who says I want to marry you?”

Chris scooped you in his arms and rolled you over on top of him.

“You don’t want to marry me? You’d say no if I asked?” 

You held in a giggle.

“Nah. I’m gonna move back to Houston and marry someone else so you can come in town and fuck me over the hood of your rental car. That sounds hot as fuck.”

Chris released an anxious breath.

You took his head in your hands.

“Easy now. Ask what you want to ask.” Chris started to speak. You put your finger over his mouth.  

“When you want to ask it.” You looked into his eyes again. “I won’t break your heart.”

Chris smiled at you and said, “I know.” He kissed you. 

And when you pulled away, breathless, he told you, “You’re the One.”

----------- Read Part Two: It Takes Two

Let me know what you think. Like, comment, reblog! Tags:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @jdmacca92 @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83

[outerbankies]

i see topper being drunk and passed out in wilburs dog bed

+ for the other anon who said: “WILLIE AND TOP SCENES PLZ”

here you go! let’s say this takes place at some point in the new light universe over the summer when everyone’s still home from college

new light blurb: soft spot

new light series masterlist

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunkenness

“Bottomless mimosas at the Island Club still packs a punch, huh, Top?”

You’d smile over at your boyfriend at his quip, but you’re too busy currently supporting half of Topper’s weight (well, more like 30 percent—all Rafe would allow you to carry) as you and Rafe help him up your front porch steps. And after spending the entire 20-minute Uber ride back to your house wrestling Topper’s phone out of his hand so he couldn’t call his almost-but-not-really-girlfriend, you were already exhausted.

“Shut up, Cameron,” Topper slurs, stumbling a bit as you try to unlock your front door. You weren’t nearly as gone as Topper but you fiddle with your keys long enough that Rafe speaks up.

“You got it, baby?”

“Yep, yes,” you confirm finally pushing the door open, the cool AC on your skin a welcome change from the summer humidity.

“Ah,” Rafe sighs, cheeks flushed. “Feels good in here.”

“Remind me why we couldn’t just take him to his own house?” you ask.

“His grandpa’s got that garden party later, remember,” Rafe says, finally nudging you away enough times that you just lead them up the stairs while Rafe helps Topper. “It’s at his mom’s so they’ll be setting up all day. We have to go too, sweetheart. Do you still have that polo I left here after your mom’s brunch thing?”

Rafe had shown up ten minutes early to the event your mom was hosting last weekend in a white undershirt and pressed slacks, modeling for you two different shirt options he couldn’t decide on. When you picked the best one, he left the other behind in your closet. Your lips quirk up at the memory of him, palms sweaty and nerves evident as he stuck to your side all morning, cheeks permanently tinged red by how many of your mom’s friends called him handsome. “Yes, that navy blue one?”

“Yeah, that should do, right?”

“I think so. Business stuff?”

“Yeah. It’s his re-election announcement. My dad wants me to talk to this potential investor. You could wear that white dress.”

“Which—”

“Oh fuck,” Topper slurs, swaying once the two of you get to the top of the landing. “That’s today?”

“Yeah bud,” Rafe huffs a breath. “Which you conveniently forgot to tell us about until round five. You have about three hours to sleep this off.”

“Rafe, he’s not gonna—”

“Have a little faith, Y/n/n. Ivy League over here can clearly hold his liquor.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Topper murmurs, pushing Rafe off and promptly falling flat on his face in your hallway. “Ow.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe says, hands on his hips. “I’m gonna murder Kelce for dipping on us. Can we just leave him there?”

“In the middle of my hallway? Rafe, no.”

“Well he’s not going in your bed, is he?”

“Why not?”

“Because where are we—”

Topper’s grumble from the floor interrupts your bickering, and Rafe just sighs, picking his friend back up again.

“Rafe, I just don’t want my parents to see him. We can go sleep in the—”

“No, the guest rooms don’t have locks,” Rafe says.

“So?” you question, kicking off your heels and flicking on the light in your room. “It’s not like we’re gonna do anything.”

“Is your dad home?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you in an unlocked room,” he huffs, dragging Topper through your doorway.

“Then where is—”

“I have an idea.”

Rafe beelines to the dog bed in the corner of your bedroom, making sure Wilbur is safe to one side before gently laying Topper down on the other side.

“Rafe, no,” you whisper-shout. “You know he’s afraid of Wilbur.”

Your boyfriend just shushes you, pointing at the two of them.

Topper is out instantly, curling up around your dog who just sniffs him over a few times before nuzzling into him too.

“Problem solved.”

“Babe, he can’t sleep on the dog bed,” you chide, jewelry coming off.

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart,” Rafe says, sitting at the edge of your bed to take off his shoes. “He’s fine. Look at him. Most relaxed he’s ever been around Willie. Isn’t he, buddy?”

Wilbur’s tail swishes against your feet when you walk to the closet, stopping to take a picture of the two of them before changing.

“Rafe, do you wanna—”

“Nap,” Rafe says, already shirtless underneath your covers, patting the space next to him. You just smile, hitting your light again before crawling up next to him.

“Hi,” you whisper, giving him a peck. Rafe’s hand behind your head stops you once you try to pull back so he can kiss you some more.

“Hi.”

You feel the sleepiness come for you the moment you rest your head on his chest, his hand coming to rest on your back, shirt rucked up so he can touch you skin to skin.

“We’re not making it to that garden party, are we?”

“Don’t underestimate us, Y/l/n. We did shit like this all the time in high school.”

“But we’re not in high school now.”

“Well of course not,” Rafe says. “Cause then I wouldn’t be in your bed right now—”

A voice from the floor interrupts you both.

“Listen, I am, like. Just so, so happy you guys finally got your shit together,” Topper slurs. “Like, Rafe, man? That—I was impressed. Really didn’t think it’d happen for a bit there.”

“Uh… thanks Top,” Rafe grumbles as you try to stifle your laughter.

“And you too, Y/n,” Topper continues in slurs. “Like seriously, no idea why it took this long but—”

“Is there a point to this story?”

“Yes. Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Okay, Ivy League,” Rafe digs, causing you to giggle again.

“Fuck you both. Also, who’s dog is this?”

—

tags (lmk if u dont wanna be tagged in blurbs like this!): @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @arvinrussellseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @imjustanothernerd @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan

[holdinbacksecrets]

boyfriend things// meeting people you love

disclaimer: i made these more personalized bc i couldn’t help myself p.s lighthearted/fun/fluff

namjoon: he would show up to your apartment thirty minutes before the set time because he was worried about finding parking, even though your complex has a garage that’s rarely full. he asks if there’s anything he can help you with, but all you have to do is coat your bottom lashes with mascara and choose a tinted moisturizer for your lips. joon says you look beautiful, and holds your hand while he walks you to his car, carrying the cake box for rachel’s birthday in his left hand, admiring the pastel balloons in your right one. “do you remember everyone?” “mhmm, i made flash cards” your heart-fluttering, “of course you did” mary has freckles and never leaves the house without the flannel her mom wore in the 90s. rachel works at the cafe near the university, and that’s how you two met. you share the same zodiac sign and often react in synchronization, something joon looked forward to witnessing, which urged you to remind him he knows 6 people who do the same thing. lucy is soft spoken and talks about her cat maple when she’s nervous. happens to be very knowledgeable about plants (botany major), so she and joon will get along swimmingly

jin: instead of your friends, jin would be meeting your two younger sisters who were in town... just in time for the concert -world tour 2022?- in Seoul, and he would insist on you bringing them. jin might have set up a fitting with Fila for matching track suits and definitely asked what their favorite foods are for catering, but you insisted they’ll be happy with sandwiches or cereal. he doesn’t agree. when you show up to the stadium he’s literally the sweetest ever. you fall in love with him all over again because he’s asking lucy about school and if it’s stressful being a student athlete. he tells her to send you videos of her meets so he can watch, knowing the likelihood of showing up to a college swim meet and not causing utter turmoil is unlikely, and he didn’t want to be a distraction. he asks mina about her life in new zealand and tells her how much fun he had there, and a trip out to see her would be perfect. she talks to jungkook because they’re both fearless, and she’s still waiting to cross skydiving off her bucket list. jin gives mina a cooky headband and she’s blushing, having no idea you told jin her bias is jungkook. he rolls his eyes dramatically when he gives lucy the chimmy headband and mang plushie, urging her to “make up her mind.” he’ll definitely take you all out to brunch the next morning. makes your sisters laugh and your heart sing. once you’re done with the meal/alone with your sisters again, mina will ask how much longer y’all will be waiting until a ring is on your finger. lucy says it won’t be long after seeing the way he looks at you. you hope she’s right. surprise: she was right

yoongi: this man is so suave and nonchalant, but that isn’t always the case when it comes to you. nerves shine through the cracks of his demeanor. you can see them in his cheeks turning a pretty shade of rose. in the way he keeps changing his shirt. back and forth. back and forth. and he didn’t notice you standing in the doorway. biting your lip to stop yourself from interrupting, but you can’t help yourself “do you mind my two cents?” he looks up and you disapprove of both t shirts and find the sage colored sweater because he looks so damn good in them. and if there was something that would make your friends more likely to give their approval, it would be Min Yoongi in a soft, sage green sweater. truly powerful. according to yoona, a sweater “shows they’re willing to make an effort”. nina always says “boyfriend energy exists in a sweater, and we must see what y/n is working with”. extra points for a shy, gummy smile *check and check*

hoseok: somehow a lot of time would go by and previous attempts to get the!crew together kept falling through because half of your friends are students and the other half have joined the corporate world. therefore everyone’s schedules are all over the place, and then you have to add in hoseok’s who spends an insane amount of hours rehearing, at the studio or traveling. and when free time does arrive maybe you want him all to yourself ...is that bad? so when things finally work out, it’s your birthday. the nerves you expected to feel are pretty much forgotten because you spent the whole day decorating your apartment with your friend jess, blowing up balloons and hanging lights. she met hoseok when he showed up with lunch for the both of you and basically melted as soon as she saw his smile. the moment included: “wait a damn minute. you’re handsome as fuck.” yes all your friends say something about his beauty and sunshine spirit. hell yes you end up dancing and drinking the champagne he brought too. your friend ella falls asleep in the guest room, and in the morning you wake up to the sound of her laughing with your boyfriend while they eat breakfast and look through the stack of polaroids from the night’s festivities. later that week, hoseok gushes over how happy you are around your friends. you seem more relaxed, and he likes that look on you,, “happy and carefree makes your eyes sparkle,” but he didn’t know the biggest smiles came with every compliment shared by the girls in your life for the man you love

jimin: you have a few really close friends. one of whom lives in the same complex as you and regularly comes over for meals, work and rant sessions, or evenings of reality tv. tonight happened to be the latter, but jimin came over unexpectedly, completely distracting you. and even if you remembered the plans later that evening, they would’ve evaporated from your mind as soon as you saw him standing outside your door... looking so good. skin dewy and smelling strongly of vanilla. you could see the tired in his eyes, but he still smiled so brightly having you so close. hours later, one movie down and a second just starting with take out on the way, jennie shows up, and jimin opens the door thinking it’s your dinner. you recognize her voice and curse yourself for forgetting, but of course jimin is a sweetheart and tells her she has to stay, that food’s on the way, and you watch them with love in your eyes as they bond over dance (jennie teaches at a studio) and pictures of her corgi, buttermilk. when the food arrives, jimin makes up plates for everyone. he gives you extra black bean noodles and asks what jennie prefers. when he jogs to the kitchen for a coke, jennie nods, with a LOVE him, and her signature, double 👌 jennie’s 👌 are like shooting stars. her students and friends all agree: they come rarely and mean a hell of a lot. you know he’ll be excited to hear all about it later

taehyung: instead of taehyung being nervous, your friends were. and mostly because they’re all fans to varying degrees and have spent an embarrassing amount of time mentally preparing themselves out of fear they’ll do something stupid and turn him off. of course you share all of this with him, and he finds it hilarious and cute, not at all worried about how your friends will be. he was honored they at least like bts’ music, hoping that would give him some brownie points in case he came across awkward or quiet. once a month your friend erin holds a game or trivia night. everyone brings a dish for potluck and dresses to a theme. the night taehyung was joining happened to be Evening in Paris, which he was ecstatic about. y’all showed up looking way too good in comparison to the mustaches made with eyeliner and toilet paper berets. tae dressed as an artist, with his apron pockets holding acrylic paints and brushes, and you his muse. ended up getting a little tipsy. tried to stop erin from attempting the butter choreo. tae hyped her up, filmed the whole thing. ate lots of crackers and the homemade hummus lisa brought. taehyung couldn’t get enough of the puppy chow from meredith, his fingers coated in powdered sugar. yes he won every game that evening and took home the stuffed octopus prize. prizes are always stuffed animals. no one knows why. you’d get more use out of a candle

jungkook: poor baby is a nervous wreck. shows up early but paces between your bedroom and the kitchen, eating from the bag of pretzels left out on the counter. you laugh from the closet as you hear his big ass boots stomping and then stopping and then the crunching and then his head appearing in the doorway. you kiss him every time he calls your name in hopes of your lips calming him down. smiling, “you taste like pretzels and strawberry lip balm” the tactic works, and his shoulders relax more with each kiss,,muah “my friends will fall in love with you immediately. in case you didn’t know, you’re quite the charmer... not sure why you’re so nervous?” jungkook doesn’t understand where your question is coming from “i’m in love with you?? and not impressing my partner’s friends is something i won’t recover from.” you roll your eyes because this man is being dramatic. “and you had to try so hard to impress me, right?” and of course he smiles at that and all you can do is laugh because he KNOWS. he knows it’ll be fine, and if you’re so in love with him, there’s no way your friends won’t be too. he looks at the picture in your glove department one more time, recalling the names of the friends surrounding you in the picture from your 23rd birthday, before going into the restaurant. kisses you deeply before opening his door. probably asks you if his hair looks ok. dude looks like a prince for real. spoiler: they adore him. you’re worried lea might love him more than you after he helps her out of her coat. clumsy girl managed to get her arm stuck in the sleeve. he has his left hand on your thigh the entire evening, looks at you often to admire and smile fondly

check out the masterlist 🤍

[rocorambles]

Jealousy

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Main), Osamu x Reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Misuse of Duct Tape, Non-Con Bondage, Forced Breeding, Forced Impregnation, Delusional Mindset

Summary: Atsumu is determined to prove that he’s the better twin for you.    

The first time Atsumu meets you he doesn’t remember you so much as he gets stuck on the fact that Osamu is dating someone. Osamu is fucking dating someone and Atsumu is still here single and alone in his late twenties, not a girl anywhere even in sight. It makes him livid as he stares at the identical face gently smiling at you, affectionately holding your hand, looking so damn happy and content. 

What does he have that Atsumu doesn’t? A successful food chain? Cool. But is he a pro-athlete? A medal winning Olympic athlete? One of the best setters in the country? In the world? It’s infuriating to think about and as much as Atsumu loves volleyball, even he dreams of love, marriage, a family of his own late at night when he’s alone on a hotel bed, only Sakusa’s breathing from the other bed in the room keeping him company. 

And those thoughts consume him long after he bids farewell to Osamu and you and suddenly the MSBY Jackals are in an uproar as every team member takes turns being sexiled by their blond setter when they’re off at their away games, as Atsumu nonchalantly strolls into the locker rooms to prep for practice, back littered with scratch marks that Bokuto tries to shield from Hinata’s eyes when the orange haired athlete curiously asks when Atsumu got a cat. 

Girl after girl walks in and out of his bed, his life. Most never lasting more than a night, a few returning for a couple more rounds in the bedsheets, one even manages to interest him enough to grab a cup of coffee with. But it’s the same verdict every time. He’s good enough to fool around with and he’s great in bed, but Miya Atsumu is not husband material, not when he’s already married to volleyball. 

The rejection only fuels his inner turmoil and the green eyed monster inside of him grows and grows, festering and spreading throughout him the more he stops attempting his futile attempts and instead turns his energy to loitering around Osamu and you, inviting himself over for dinners after practice, trying his hand at helping you in the kitchen for brunch on the weekends, crashing in your guest bedroom to the point that Osamu and you gift him a spare key to your shared home. 

Neither of you think much of it, Osamu joking to you privately that this is just Atsumu being the needy emotional brother he really is while you’re just glad to be able to get to know Osamu’s family better. So none of you notice how brown eyes inquisitively trail after the both of you, watching how the two of you seamlessly work out both your hectic lives, never letting the long hours at your job or Osamu’s restaurant get in the way of your relationship, always directing a warm smile or gaze at the other despite how obviously exhausted or far away from a good mood you’re in. 

And Atsumu lets himself believe that this could be his as he hungrily stares at the way you gently caress his brother’s hand, the affection in your gaze as you tenderly kiss him on the lips, the playful wink you give his twin when you tell him you’re getting ready for bed. He lets himself dream that it’s him who you direct those loving gazes to as you cheerfully greet him in the morning, handing him a coffee made just the way he likes it, placing a plate full of delicious piping hot food in front of him. He lets his hand wander down his shorts at night, straining to hear every detail, every decibel of your moans as Osamu and you make love at night, closing his eyes and stroking his cock as he imagines it’s him who’s forcing those beautiful cries from your mouth. 

But it’s not all a picture perfect paradise and Atsumu carefully listens in, alerted by the raising voices he hears through the walls as more and more time passes by. He’d noticed the growing tension in the house, noticed how the two of you were less affectionate, almost awkwardly shuffling around each other when both of you were home from work these past few months. But he couldn’t think of what could have caused both of you to act so strangely, so suddenly, when everything had seemed so swell. 

Curiosity has him placing his ear on the wall and he winces when he hears you shout, anger and hurt in your voice that makes his heart clench painfully, asking when Osamu was going to propose, telling his brother how you’re sick of waiting, how you want to get married and have kids soon. Something shattering inside of him when your voice becomes small and hesitant. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted too, Osamu. Isn’t that why we decided to start living together?”

He expects his brother to leap at the opportunity, to reassure you, yes, absolutely yes, we can get married right away. He knows that if their positions were switched, that’s what he would be doing. But his jaw drops in disbelief, morphing into a scowl when Osamu pleads for you to calm down, to be patient. 

“I do want that. But just not right now.”

“If not now, when? We’re not getting any younger, Osamu.” 

“But my chain is in talks of expanding and there’s so much going on. I just don’t have time-”

There’s a heavy silence as Osamu is quick to snap his mouth shut and Atsumu knows he’s cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, already knows the next words that are going to come out of your mouth, words he himself is all too familiar with from his own past failed relationships. 

“You just don’t have time for us? Me?” 

“That’s not what I meant…”

But it’s too late and Atsumu flinches when he hears loud angry movement, Osamu’s voice imploring you to calm down and stop what you’re doing to no avail as you stomp out of the house, slamming the front door behind you as you make your way to a friend’s house to spend the night apart. 

No one speaks of that night after you return to the house the next day and the three of you continue as normal. Or at least as normal as you can be after an unresolved disagreement that your relationship ultimately hinges around continues ticking like a time bomb in everyone’s minds. And it finally counts down to zero when Osamu packs his bags and plants a cold chaste kiss on your lips before heading to the airport and making his way to seal the deal on the restaurant expansion that’s taken over his entire life. 

Maybe it’s Atsumu’s fault that the two of you are drunk out of your minds, sprawled out on the living room floor. Scratch that. It’s definitely Atsumu’s fault and he drunkenly smiles at how out of it you are, heart warming at the giddy genuine smile spread across your face, happiness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen ever since that argument Osamu and you had. And oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud and he panics, quickly sobering up when your smile falls at his words, eyes glazed in reminiscence as you think of that night. 

Atsumu isn’t known for his patience, but he waits, not uttering a single word, not moving an inch as you open yourself up to him, telling him your hopes and dreams that so closely match his own of a loving relationship, marriage, family, sharing about the argument Osamu and you had (unknowing of the fact that Atsumu already knows far more than he should). But when you frustratedly laugh at yourself, asking him rhetorically if you’re just being silly and naive, if you’re just a grown woman trying to fulfill a little girl’s childish dream, you’re stunned by the fierce denial from the blonde athlete determinedly staring at you.

“No. You’re not being silly or naive. ‘Samu’s being the idiot. Any man would be lucky and proud to have you as his wife and to create a family with you.”

Those words resonate with you, linger in your mind, further branded into your memory by the sheer sincerity Atsumu drowned them in. And maybe that’s why you find it impossible to play house anymore, find it impossible to live a forced and fake lie when you’re not truly happy anymore. It’s hard, heartbreakingly so, to part ways with the silver haired man when he still holds a part of your heart, but it’s for the best. Why continue when neither of you are on the same page in the long run? Why waste more precious years when you can actively work towards your desired future with someone else who wants the same things as you? 

It’s logical. It makes sense. And yet when you meet up with Atsumu at his apartment for dinner one night to catch up a few months or so after the break up you’re still doubting your decision. 

You had been surprised the blond setter had been so adamant about keeping in touch even after his brother and you separated, but if you’re honest, he’s surprisingly sweet and caring, someone you consider a true friend. So as awkward as it might seem to outsiders, the two of you remain in close contact and you happily agree to his invite when both your busy schedules finally match up. 

But as much as you like Atsumu, the two of you really need to stop drinking so much when you see each other and you let out a cry of frustration when your eyes immediately tear up when Atsumu casually asks how you’re doing as both of you sprawl out on his couch, trying to wave away his worried face as he hovers far too close to you, telling him it’s just the alcohol making you more emotional than usual. 

And you still blame all the drinks he had generously kept refilling for you for the way you sob and cling onto him as he wraps you in a tight hug, telling him how you worry all the time about whether or not you made the right decision to break up with Osamu, whether or not you’re ever going to find someone else, ever going to get married, ever going to have that dream romance you’ve always wanted, ever going to have the happy full family you’ve always yearned for. 

It all comes out of you so easily. But everything with Atsumu has always come easy and you don’t think much of it, finding comfort in his solid presence as he continues to hold you, letting him readjust and find a comfortable position-

You scramble to separate from him when lips tenderly meet yours, limbs flailing as you shove the man away from you, eyes comically wide open as you stare agape at Atsumu. 

“What are you- We can’t- No no no. All of this is wrong. This would KILL Osamu-”

Something inside of Atsumu snaps when he hears his brother’s name from your lips. Even after all this time, you’re still thinking of him? You still care about him? When the better twin is right in front of your fucking face? 

He doesn’t even register he’s shouting those questions in your face, barely registering your terrified eyes as you try to shrink away from him. But your movement of pulling away from him snaps him back to reality and reflexes has his hand twisting in your hair, grabbing you by your roots, fury making him numb to the way you desperately claw at his grip as he drags you to his bedroom. 

You’re too focused on soothing your aching skull when he finally releases you by throwing you onto his bed and pitiful tears stream down your face as you gingerly hold your head, ignorant of how the athlete is rummaging through his closet. In hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t try to run while his back was turned, although you already know the answer. This is just Atsumu in one of his moods. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’ll apologize in just a second. Those are the thoughts fleeting through your mind amidst the sore ache Atsumu has left behind. 

But a warning bell rings relentlessly inside of you as you finally look up when you sense him approaching you, a thick roll of silver duct tape in his hands. 

Had Atsumu always looked so...intimidating?

You try to fight back as you’re suddenly pinned to the bed by a muscular body, flailing and thrashing as calloused hands hold your arms above your hand, tightly wrapping your wrists together, looping extra lengths of the tape around the headboard, securely fastening your arms up and out of the way. But it’s useless, pathetic really, although Atsumu thinks there’s something adorable about how hard you’re trying, only to be easily batted away by his much stronger body as he tears off your clothes and bends your knees, taping your calves to your thighs, one side at a time until both your legs are bound. 

And then there’s silence and stillness other than your wriggling tied form as Atsumu sits back and admires the view of your naked body, reality so much more lucious and gorgeous than he had ever imagined. You struggle against your tight restraints, recoiling as brown eyes leer at you, ravenously devouring the sight of your heaving breasts, raking down your figure before finally landing on your bare pussy on full display as his hands spread your bound legs on either side of you, palms searing your inner thighs with their unwanted warmth as he holds you open. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape to hold you down and keep you still. One day you’ll let him have you of your own free will. One day you’ll see that he was always the one for you. But he can’t help but feel that there’s something breathtaking about how vulnerable and pretty you are, laid out for him like a wrapped present, something filthily attractive about how striking the silver stripes are against your skin. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape...but that doesn’t mean he'll stop using it. 

You shudder as he trails his fingers over the duct tape, grinning at you all the while. 

“Can’t have you moving too much if I’m going to breed you. You’ll make all my cum spill out of you.”

He tsks when you frantically struggle at his words, pathetic begs and pleads spilling from your lips as dread fills you from learning exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are, how tight the front of his pants look as his erection presses against the fabric, how far too close he is to your most intimate part. And you sob as he leans on top of you, pressing his toned body against yours, something hard pressing against your bare pussy as he captures your lips in a kiss to silence you. 

“I thought you would be more thankful considering how you were practically in my arms begging me for kids not even a hour ago. And now I’m here ready to give you what you want and you’re making such a fuss.” 

He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you only sob even harder, body shaking and trembling, sniveling as you stare up at him with teary eyes, begging him to stop. 

“Oh shut up. What? Are you worried about the order of things? Worried I’ll just knock you up and leave you alone? Don’t be stupid. I’ll make sure to put a ring on your finger and marry you after this. Who cares about the order of things when the end result is the same.” 

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, unsure where to even begin telling him just how wrong his reasoning is, unsure how to even process his words. Ring? Marry? What-

But thoughts fly out of your head when a hungry mouth suddenly descends on your breasts, harshly sucking a nipple between wet lips, fingers roughly twisting and pulling at your other nipple and you wail at the jolt of sudden stimulation, too focused on the tongue lapping at your nipples and lances of arousal swirling inside of you to notice how his free hand is shoving his pants and boxers down and off. 

You hate how quick you are to melt into the delirious pleasure, body craving for the touch of another, to be brought to new heights by another after being left to your own devices for the past few months and you can feel your pussy clench and throb, feeling so exposed and empty, practically begging to be stuffed full as slick begins to form between your legs. And as if Atsumu can hear your body’s silent cry for more, he begins to push the tip of his cock inside of you and your back arches, mouth instinctively opening as he takes his time, pressing past your tight opening, slipping further and further inside of you until he’s finally fully sheathed inside of you, letting your body adjust to him as he continues licking and sucking on your breasts, groaning as he feels your tight walls clamp around him with every move of his mouth. 

Atsumu is not known for his patience, but he tries his damn best to take it as slow as he bearably can for you, dragging his cock back and forth against your gummy walls, constantly adjusting the angle of his hips with every stroke until you’re crying out, and he smirks triumphantly, memorizing the exact position and angle that has you seeing stars as he continuously hits that spongy spot inside of you. And all it takes is for his hand to slide between the two of you and gently circle your clit as he continues his steady assault to have you breaking to pieces underneath him, garbled versions of his name escaping your mouth as your orgasm washes over you in heavy tall waves, his own release joining with yours as your pussy convulses and milks him of his sticky white liquid. 

As post-coital bliss disintegrates, shame and relief flood through you, shame for enjoying it, relief that this ordeal is finally over and you wait. Wait for him to remove the tape. Wait for him to pull out of you. Grimacing as he affectionately nuzzles you and litters your face with kisses. But you panic, pure fear flooding through you when you feel his cock twitching inside of you once more, growing inside of you again. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? Need to make sure I fill you with so much cum that your body has no choice but to get pregnant.”

And he stays true to his words, fucking you over and over again, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes passionate and sensual, sometimes soft and gentle, but always finishing inside of you, adding to the splattered pooling mess inside of you. You feel disgusting, the increasingly wet noises as he thrusts in and out of the sticky wet mess inside of you permeating throughout the room, stomach feeling so bloated with cum that you swear you must be pregnant already. 

Quiet, relieved sobs wrack your body when the weight on top of you finally lifts, when he finally pulls out of you and your body slumps down, all the tension leaving it, discomfort taking its place as you feel a torrent of liquid move to rush out of your overfilled cunt, the beginnings of it already starting to trickle out. But despite your aching dry throat, you manage to let out a strangled cry of disbelief when your hips are uncomfortably raised up, upper body almost folded in half as Atsumu keeps your glistening pussy upright, not allowing even a single drop more to escape. 

And in this new position you have no choice but to watch, anxiety coursing through you when he tears off another piece of duct tape, chest hyperventilating as he places it over your gaping hole, effectively sealing you shut and despite the fact that you thought you had no more tears left to shed, new salty teardrops slide down your cheeks at the debauched site of your own pussy being treated as nothing more than an object, a receptacle for his seed, his beaming smug face between your legs only adding to your humiliation as he smiles down at his handiwork. 

All you can do is mindlessly stare when he directs his smile at you, verbally praising himself for how smart he is for finding a way to keep his cum inside of you and making sure all his hard work doesn’t go to waste, mind and body feeling numb and broken as he finally lets your body lay fully back on the bed, slumping down next to you in exhaustion and cuddling your listless and still bound figure. 

“We can go pick out rings together tomorrow, okay? Maybe try a few more times for some runts after. You think the more I cum in you, the better the chance that you’ll have twins?”

You don’t know, but you have a sinking feeling that you’ll soon be finding out.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with���neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. ��Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[bronwiebear-brad]

2 years since that birthday special 🥺 Can you give us another one, this time headconnon? Please love ❤️

The things I do for my loves 💙

I feel like Brad used to celebrate his birthdays with a lot of people around when he was younger

He's the type who has a lot of friends to celebrate his life with

But over the years that group kept shrinking

The real and close ones stayed of course, but he felt like it was not the same anymore specially when people only partied with him just to be on the news or to gain a few followers on the next day

So since a few years, when he passed 25, he didn't put a lot of work on planing parties,

A fancy dinner or a casual night out at a local pub would be fine for him

This year was no diferent

So his birthday arrived

But you two only started to see eachother one month ago

You both felt like it was too soon to be seen in public togheter

And to be honest, you didn't felt very comfortable to meet his friends or family yet

So after a nice talk, you decided that he would spent the morning/afternoon with you and then celebrate with his friends /family.

Of course everyone was like, "so you will spent the morning of your birthday alone?"

He didn't gave them an actual explanation, he didn't care

In fact, he used to put his phone on plane mode while being with you

He would sleep at your house the night before

You prepared the living room with twinkle lights on the ceiling and bought a lots of snacks

Hoodies on

He choosing the movie because he was the birthday boy

Ended up choosing one that you like a lot

Cuddling session on the couch

Playing with his hair

Both of you falling asleep on the couch

He waking up in the middle of the night and gently get you to bed

Waking up late

Sneaking fast into the kitchen to make a nice brunch, pancakes with berry's and honey and tea

Putting everything in a tray and getting into bed again

Brunch in bed

Another cuddling session

This time with a make out session

He getting his guitar to play something

he brought jack so you two just spent two hours playing with him and giving him pets

Until it is pretty late and he needs to get ready

So you return to your bedroom and you see that he is still in sweatpants

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"I wanted to stay here"

"they're your friends, they deserve you too"

"I know but I want you there"

"I'll be right here when you came back"

"deal"

So you help him get ready

Showering together

You choosing the clothes from his backpack that he brought

"is my hair nice?"

"lovely"

So he's putting his shoes on

And you can see in his face that he desperately wants to stay

You wanted that too but knew that his friends were important

So he's taking twice the time to put them on

Seeing you cuddle jack on the couch and rumble thru Netflix choosing something to watch

Eventually he decides that it is better to be going other wise he would be stuck by that picture

"I'm off going" he said collecting his belongings on the centre table and puts them on his back pocket

He leans into you to give you a kiss

And you just grab his face with both hands

"Bradley?"

He hums with his eyes still closed

"happy birthday"

And you just kiss him again

making even harder to leave