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ninisdollie · 9 days ago

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Sad girl - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

"In which reader is stuck being the side chick of an older, rich man, but she convinces herself that she likes it that way"

content: +18MDNI fem!reader x jake, older man!jake x younger!reader (both over 20, not age specified) kind of angsty, cheating plot, protected sex, dirty talking, oral sex (m recieving) fingering, corruption kink, humiliation, jake is kind of an asshole in this i’m sorry, reader is kinda dumb

i do not intend to normalize cheating with this story! i was just inspired by one of my fav lana del rey songs, entertainment purposes only <3

You stared at your phone, eyes sticked to the screen, your body laying down on your bed. You watched the time, 5:50, just ten more minutes and you could call him.

If someone had told you years ago that you would be involved in an affair with a married man, you would’ve laughed straight to their faces. You always hated those type of girls, who didn’t care about destroying couples by sleeping with taken men, you thought it was the most shameless, heartless thing to do.

Until you met him.

Jake Sim was the man of your dreams. A successful, renowned business man, Ceo of his own company, born into a wealthy family, impeccable physique, always wearing entire suits that fitted his body like a second skin, all costume made by the best designers in the country. He walked with so much confidence, posture always perfect, silver rings from the most expensive jewerly houses decorating his long fingers, and obviously, his wedding ring.

You didn’t know he was married when you first saw him (that gave no one comfort but you, he would always say) but when you found out you were so deeply in love that you didn’t really care, you were okay with having him, just a few hours a week, for yourself, pretending that you were his wife, that he was choosing you, even if that was far from being true.

Your relationship was weird, complicated, stritc rules applied. You would meet once a week, when his wife went to visit her family away from town until the next day, never outside of this schedule. He would always pick you up, but never before 6:00 pm, he was a busy man after all. You had to be always looking pretty, dolled up for him, he hated girls that didn’t take care of themselves, so he would always buy you the best dresses and make up, but obviously, you could only wear them for him, nobody else. You could never, never text him first, you always had to wait for his message, and he demanded you to delete everything after your encounters were over. You could call him when you were ready, but again, never before 6:00 pm, and you must never make him wait for you outside for more than 5 minutes.

Maybe it was a little bit extreme, but you understood, he had a reputation to keep clean, his career would be over if this ever came to light, and you were perfectly fine with any rules if that meant you could keep seeing each other.

Every week you would wait for the day to come, daydreaming about him in class, not being able to focus. He was your everything.

You just wished you were his too.

6:00 pm. You tapped on his contact, the tone ringing in your ear.

One, two, three rings later, he answered.

“Always so on time, my pretty girl” And you smiled widely at the sound of his voice, his beautiful Australian accent sending shivers down your spine, feeling the flush in your cheeks, getting up from your bed.

“I’m ready, Jakey. Will you be here soon?” Your voice always sounded extra cloy and high pitched when you talked to him.

He hummed on the phone, and you bit your lip, your heart pounding on your chest with anticipation.

“On my way, baby, wait for me.”

He hung up, and you jumped accross your room to pack a few more things in your purse, your lip combo, your wallet, and condoms.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, just making sure you were looking perfectly polished. Long hair resting on your waist, natural makeup decorating your delicate features, the white, lacy dress he bought the last time for you covering your body perfectly, you smiled at your reflexion, hoping he would like it, you couldn’t wait for him to shower you in compliments.

After exactly 5 minutes, a honk on your driveway. You walked through the door enthusiastically, running to the car and getting inside real quick, so your mother wouldn't ask many questions. He saw you approaching, his hair perfectly slicked back, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, no ring on his finger, he always took it off when you saw each other. He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen, such a beautiful, perfect face, his lips were thick, red, and he had the cutest smile ever. He always smelled so good, Sauvage Elixir by Dior, that was his signature perfume. You smiled at him, placing a little kiss on his lips.

"Hi Jakey, missed you so much" he smiled back at you as he started the car again, driving along the streets towards your usual hotel.

"How was class today, angel? You doing well? You know i appreciate you keeping up with your studies" and you nodded a few times, fixing the skirt of your dress and looking at the front.

"It was good, nothing much happened, i just couldn't wait to see you" He didn't respond, just humming quietly.

The car drive was short, you didn't talk much because to be honest, you never did. Jake said he preferred to keep feelings out of this affair, you two only meeting to do your thing, so he never asked you that much about your life, your conversations were usually shallow, and to be honest it was mostly you talking as he just nodded and hummed in response. Not because he was annoyed by you, but because he found your business immature, being much older than you and having real life problems. So you didn't talk to him about stupid things like gossip and issues with friends, because at the end, you knew he didn't really care that much.

As to the nature of your relationship, he never really gave you a reason to why he was cheating on his wife with you, you knew it was an arranged marriage, or something like it, but obviously he was lacking something, otherwise he wouldn’t be searching for it in you. He did told you though, that his wife was a complicated woman, terrible temper, and he made emphasis in that she would kill you both if she’d ever found out about your affair.

Other woman in your situation would feel used, humiliated. But for some reason you didn't care about that, it was good enough for you that he preferred you over his wife to satisfy his desires as a man. It made you feel good, powerful.

Silly you.

"Is that the dress i gave you last time? You look so gorgeous, princess". And you smiled widely, blushing, because his compliments meant everything to you.

Feeling your heart flutter again, you watched him pull over in the parking lot, and he got out of the car towards your door and opened it for you, immediately placing a hand around your waist, kissing softly behind your ear and you sighed at his closeness, not wanting him to ever let you go.

He walked you through the hallway, a silence full of complicity between you both, and you rested your head on his shoulder as the elevator went up to the last floor, the private suite waiting for you both. You reached for his hands, and smiled at yourself at the size difference, yours looking so small and delicate in comparision with his manly, veiny, thick hands.

Jake wasn’t very lovey-dovey to you, he just wasn’t like that, he didn’t act like a boyfriend, and you didn’t mind, because you knew loved touching you and noticing little details like those too.

"A drink?" he asked, heading towards the mini bar, once you were inside the room, and you nodded happily, sitting on the corner of the big, king sized bed.

He poured a glass of wine, whisky for him, and stretched his hand, you took the glass and sipped, feeling the hot alcohol burning your throat. Then he loosened his tie, closing his eyes as he cracked his neck, groaning quietly, this made your skin jump, the sound of his voice was enough to affect you.

"Had an awful day at the office today, fired a bunch of useless idiots." He sighed deeply, and you pouted, placing the glass over the nightstand, running your delicate hands through his torso, up to his broad shoulders, squeezing softly, massaging him.

"Sorry to hear that, hope you're not stressing too much" You talked with sweet voice, and he chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing a little kiss on your palm. Then he downed his drink at once.

"You will help me with that." You grinned as he leaned in, hand on your chin, crashing his lips with yours.

The thing with Jake is that he kissed you differently than boys your age. Hungrily, deeply, dirty, messy, as if he was an starved man. Warm, wet tongue exploring your mouth and teeth pulling your lower lip, it made you whimper below his, hot breaths colliding. He always tasted like cigarettes and whisky, his perfume's scent invading the air and going straight through your lungs, you loved it. It was addictive. As he tangled his tongue with yours, head tilted, his big, manly hands ran through your body, firstly caressing the soft, always shaved skin of your thighs, lifting the skirt of the dress you wore only for him, then going straight to your ass, squeezing, groping, and you moaned breathles as you fell onto the bed on your back.

He leaned over your body, between your legs, dress now pooled around your waist, your delicate, lacy lingerie in display, his hands now tracing around your inner thighs, and you whimpered again, lifting your hips, needing more of his touch, your skin starting to burn hot beneath his fingers.

"Always so fucking needy." he whispered with thick voice, his lips now lowering along your jaw, then your neck, sucking, licking, and you tilted your head so he could have more access. "Fucked you a thousand times now and you still beg for my touch so pathetically".

You bit your lip, moaning as his hands now rubbed your core above the fabric of your underwear, two fingers in your clit, rubbing, softly, tracing circles, and you couldn't help but arch your back desperately, already soaking wet as the jolt of pleasure went down straight to where his touch was, he always got you so worked up this fast, you couldn't resist it. His other hand went up to your chest, lifting your dress completely until your bare breasts bounced out of it, nipples hardening as the cold air hit your skin. He cupped them with his hands, squeezing softly, face now buried in them, kissing, sucking, licking, and you leaned to his touch as you gasped.

It was as if he knew your body perfectly, where to touch, where to kiss, where to suck, it made you twitch and tremble so easily, no other man had ever made you feel like that.

He stood up in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the other traveling back down to your clother pussy, and you opened your legs wider, sluttier. He grinned, biting his lip.

"Oh, my little angel is feeling slutty today?" He chuckled thickly, slapping you above the clothes, and you jumped in your place, whining with broken voice. "C'mon, show me how bad you want it".

He let his shirt fell onto the ground, chest now bare in front of you, you could never get tired of him, his well maintained body, how the lines of his abs glistened beneath the faint light of the room, and you squirmed on the bed, shaky, clumsy hands running through your body until your fingers touched the lace of your underwear, and you pulled, leaving yourself exposed, swollen, needy, dripping pussy right in front of his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes shining filled with lust and hunger. Jake lifted his chin, a silent order.

Looking straight at him through your hazy view, you rubbed yourself, spreading your folds and wetness all around your core, showing him how much you needed him right now. You whimpered, bringing your own soaked digits to your watery mouth, licking yourself clean, tasting your own arousal, and he slapped your thigh, hissing between his teeth. You bit your lip, your thin fingers now covered in your own spit, and you shoved two of them inside of you, arching your back and moaning his name high pitched, touching yourself in front of him, legs spread all the way, pussy swallowing and pulsing and clenching around your fingers as you thrusted them in and out of you.

"Fuck, such a dirty little slut." He whispered, and you nodded tremblingly, pathetic.

You saw him unbuckle his belt as his pants fell onto the floor along with his boxers, his thick, hard-rock, veiny cock in front of you, tip swollen and red and dripping with precum, he stroked himself as you kept your movements in and out of you, whining, telling him you needed him now.

"J-Jakey please, need you so bad..." Your voice was weak, begging.

"Shut up, not yet, whore." He grabbed your wrist with force, making you stop touching yourself. He was being extra mean today, you didn’t mind, you loved it. His rough voice speaked to you precisely. "Knees."

You obeyed almost immediately, even if your legs were shaking and you could barely keep balance, you fell onto your knees on the floor in front of him, his grip now sticked to your hair, strong, hurtful. You glanced at him from below, cheeks red, eyes sparkly, and he lifted his chin again. You looked at his throbbing, thick length in front of your face, and you wrapped your hand around it, not wasting time in sticking your tongue out and tracing circles on the head of his dick, whining at the salty tasted making contact with your taste buds, and you took a deep breath before loosening your jaw, taking him deep in your mouth until he reached your throat, and you sniffed, suppressing a gag, eyes watering. You loved feeling him in your mouth, the taste of his flesh, big, hard as you bobbed your head enthusiastically, taking him out and in again with ease. You've gained enough experience at this point, thanks to him.

"Fuck, such a perfect little mouth." He said between his teeth, sighing deeply as he watched how his member disappeared inside of your warm, wet mouth.

Then his veiny hand reached for you throat, and you choked around him as he tightened his grip, the cold silver of his rings pinching your skin, throat closing around his length, and he thrusted his hips. Your heart pounded faster on your chest, your lungs desperately looking for air, your face turned red as you felt the wet, warm, salty tears falling down your cheeks, and you shut your eyes as he face-fucked you at a strong, selfish pace.

“So fucking beautiful, crying as you choke around me. My good girl”. He praised and you whined around him, rubbing yourself against your toe, desperate for some friction.

He saw this and pulled back, taking his cock out of your mouth as you gasped for air loudly, sniffing through your nose, chest going up and down, vision hazy. He gave you a few seconds, eyebrow raised, like mocking you, but he kept his hand under your chin, thumb caressing you as you caught your breath. Then he thrusted again, deep, to the back of your throat, and you gagged around him, spit falling from the corners of your lips down your neck and to the floor, it was a mess.

Jake wasn’t very loud, but you knew the expression on his face when he was close. His jaw clenched, his eyebrows frowned, low, thick hisses between his teeth, his movements erratic, the grip on your hair getting tighter minute by minute.

You felt it then, warm discharge down your throat, and you coughed pathetically, swallowing most of it. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply, wiping your tears with his thumbs, his touch sweet, making you tremble and whimper above his plushed lips.

Then he lifted you with ease, making you fall onto the bed again, face now buried in the sheets.

“Lift your ass, babygirl.”

And you did, shakily leaning on your elbows you arched your back and lifted your hips towards him, perfectly curving your body just how you knew he liked it, chest against the white sheets as he grabbed your waist and you felt his weight sinking into the mattress, heavy, strong. The anticipation, the need, the desire were killing you, your aching pussy needing to be filled, leaking until it was dripping in your inner thighs.

Then you heard him unwrapping the condom, and you moved your hips side to side, an invitation to take you now, glancing at him over your shoulder, you fluttered your eyelashes with fake innocence.

“Don’t give me those big slutty eyes or i will fuck you all night until you fucking pass out.” Punishment or reward, you thought. You knew how to get him too, after all, he had a thing for ruining your much younger, naive being.

He put on the condom, kneeling behind you and grabbing your hips, you sighed, shutting your eyes as he marked his fingers on your skin.

“Please Jakey… can’t take it anymore, just fuck me please.” Your voice was broken, you just needed him inside of you.

Jake chuckled, mocking you, rubbing the head of his cock between your soaked folds, one, two times, teasing you, and you felt your thighs twitching, trembling, needy. Finally, after a few seconds, he slid inside of you, stretching your walls and making you sob as you grabbed the sheets in your fists, and your entire body shivered, pleasure taking you over once he started thrusting, hard, fast, deep.

“Shit baby, always so fucking tight and perfect no matter how many times i’ve fucked you.” His hand reached for your hair again, and he pulled so you arched your back even more, you moaning once he started fucking you so raw, so selfishly.

The skin of his thighs crashed with your asscheeks as he rocked his hips, the obscene sound combined with your broken moans and his low groans, you loved when he fucked you like this, as if you were his personal doll for him to use as he pleased, so you could only scream and sob his name asking him to please go faster.

“Slutty pussy so perfect around me, fuck.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and you whined in response, your pussy clenching around him, giving you away, and he bit your ear lobe, hot breath as he chuckled, slightly breathless “You like that, yeah? You like being my personal slut, not giving a fuck about the fact that i’m married. You are so dirty.”

“F-Feels so good, don’t care, Jakey, wanna be your side chick forever…” He slapped your ass with his palm and the rings on his fingers stinged your sensitive skin, and you screamed high pitched as his thrusts became rougher.

“My pretty dumb slut.” He placed kisses down your back, not stopping his movements.

Then he pulled out and you were about to let out a cry at the empty feeling, but he flipped you over, back now resting on the mattress facing him. His eyes studied your face with a dark look in them, his hair was now messy and sweaty, and he grabbed your legs so you could place them around his neck, and thrusted inside of you again, the new position making him go deeper until you could feel him in every inch of your insides, and you screamed again. It felt so good when he fucked you like this and folded your body as if it was a feather, you turning into a broken mess. Teeth bit your thighs as he slammed his cock into your g-spot over and over, making you see stars, feeling as if your soul was leaving your wrecked, used body.

“Fuck, look how you swallow my cock baby, so fucking good.” His thumb went straight to you clit, rubbing, precise circles that made you whine and gasp, new tears falling down your red, flushed cheeks. “Will never get tired of how twisted your pretty face gets when i’m fucking you.”

“J-Jake, please…” Your voice wasn’t even the same anymore, just pure begging, weeping in it, and he grabbed your chin, attacking your lips agressively.

“You wanna cum, baby? You’re gonna cum all over my cock like the good slut you are?” You nodded desperately, the tension in your lower belly starting to build.

Skins crashed as his heavy weight fell over you in erratic, rough, messy thrusts, and you knew he was close too. His thumb kept rubbing your swollen clit, other hand gripped aroung your thigh until it was red and marked.

“Do it, cum for me, show me how good of a whore you are.” His hand now wrapped around your throat, depriving you from air and you opened your mouth as he spat, you choked on it, gasping loudly.

You came hard, crying, your whole body twitching, your back arched, and your pussy clenched around him so good, the orgasm taking you over in an unnatural way, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the most obscene, pornographic scream left your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it, fucking whore.”

Then he came too, filling up the condom inside of you with his cum, guttural groan leaving his throat, the veins on his neck showing up, his head thrown back. Jake thrusted his hips a few more times, prolonging his orgasm, now moving a little weaker.

He pulled out with a pop, and you closed your eyes as you tried to catch your breath and see clear again, feeling his body falling by your side. A hand reached for your waist, and brought you closer, you smiled as you closed your eyes and layed on his chest, warm, sticky skins together. His heart was racing too, and he placed a little kiss on your head.

You stayed like that for a while, silent, your pussy sore and pulsing, sensitive because of the strong orgasm.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he stretched his body over yours to take it on his hand, reading the message, no expression on his face. You didn’t ask, because it wasn’t your business, so you closed your eyes again, while his fingers traced circles on your lower back, fingers moving accross the screen as he replied back. You placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him, and he glanced at you from his phone, smiling softly.

After a few seconds, you broke the silence.

“I was thinking next week maybe we could order room service first?” You asked, kissing across his chest, filling your lungs with his smell.

His face changed subtly, and he locked his phone before putting it back on the nightstand, running a hand through his hair, he let out an exasperated sigh, and you frowned your eyebrows. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers going from your back to your shoulders.

He swallowed.

“I forgot to tell you, baby. There will not be next time”.

Your heart stopped beating on your chest.

“W-What do you mean…” You asked, your voice really low, you just hoped he meant that he would be busy next week or that he had a business trip.

He sighed again, his hand squeezing your arm softly, like trying to comfort you for something you didn’t know yet.

“This is the last time we can see each other.”

You sat on the bed, trying to find your heartbeat on your chest, feeling dizzy suddenly. This couldn’t be happening, he just couldn’t drop you just like that. You didn’t even noticed you were crying until the tears wet your cheeks, and he sat too, bringing you close for a hug, but you pushed his chest, looking at him through your watery eyes.

“W-Why? Did i… Did i do something? You don’t like me anymore? Please Jake just tell me i’ll do anything—"

“It’s not that.” He cut you off, and you freezed. “I’m moving back to Australia.”

And then you laughed, but not because it was funny, because of disbelief. He was leaving the country, in less than a week, and he didn’t even had the courage or decency to tell you. You just weren’t that important to him, you were just what he said, a dumb, slut, side chick.

You sniffed, getting up and running a hand through your messy hair.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me that, Jake. Are you being for real?” Your arms fell on your sides, and you stood in front of him, naked, you saw how his eyes scanned your body for just a fraction of a second. Bastard. “You’re telling me, we’ve been in an affair for months now, and you just couldn’t even tell me that you were leaving soon? That you would leave me here—"

“Leave you?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shut your lips, staying very, very still, your blood starting to boil as he was the one laughing now. “I’m married, y/n, and you knew that from the start, you are not my wife, and i’m not your husband, and we both are very conscious of that fact, we knew from the start that these wasn’t because we love each other so much. It was pure, physical lust.”

You swallowed, more tears.

And then in hit you, of course, how could you’d been so dumb. Of course you knew he wasn’t yours, of course you knew he had a wife and that he didn’t have feelings for you apart from lust and desire, and the morbidity that the nature of your encounters caused in him. You knew all of this. You weren’t a teenager, god.

But still, a very, small part deep in your heart really wished that he cared enough for you, even just a little bit.

You were just so fucking dumb.

“This relationship had benefits for both of us, you gave me something i lacked, i gave you something you lacked.”

You widened your eyes, really wanting to punch him right now. But a wave of shame showered your body, your whole being.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a whore now? I wasn’t with you because of your fucking patrimony!”

He stayed silent now, groaning as he grabbed his hair. He stared at you for a few seconds, and then streched his hand, holding yours, thumb rubbing softly.

“C’mon, get back in bed, let’s make the most of the time we have left.” He spoke softly, and you crossed your arms, feeling so ashamed.

“No.”

“Y/N…”

You sobbed again, now full crying in front of him, and he immediately got up, wrapping his arms around you and you hid your face on his chest, sniffing against his bare skin. That smell again, this was the last time you would feel it. He kissed your head, but it didn’t feel sweet now, it was mostly like he felt sorry for you. It made you sick.

“Just, know that i had a good time with you, princess. I really did, you made me forget all of the shitty things about my marriage and…”

You stepped back, wiping your own tears.

“Just don’t.”

A good time. Months being in love with him, wishing for him to text you, to go pick you up, to feel his touch, his kisses, to hear his voice. Months of you isolating yourself from any opportunity to have a healthy relationship with any other guy, to find what your heart truly desired.

He just called it a good time.

And your eyes opened, reality hit you right in the face. So you started getting dressed real quick, a numb look in your face.

He stayed there, just anylising you.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanna go home, please.”

One, two, three seconds of silence. He started getting dressed too.

You cried all the way back home, and he didn’t say a word to you, not even sorry, not even trying to explain himself. But who were you fooling, you weren’t the victim in this situation, you accepted this from the very beggining, never thinking of the consecuenses it might bring.

That was the last time that you saw Jake Sim.

Because the next morning, with eyes swollen from crying, vision hazy as you just woke up, the news hit you like a slap on your face when you opened your social media. And the tears came again once you read the headline.

“Jake Sim, famous Ceo, soon to be a father.”

#sorry if this has any mistakes #english isn’t my first language #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen writer #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #jake sim smut #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake #jake sim

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lxndonorris · 1 year ago

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a paddock affair - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Fluff Lando introduces you to part of the paddock x mentions of Max, Carlos, Charles, Oscar and Daniel word count: 1200+ taglist: @game-set-canet requested by anonymous :) hope you like it. gif by me;

As the sun is shining brightly, casting its golden ray upon the Melbourne skyline, you find yourself standing outside the gates of the prestigious Formula 1 paddock, hand in hand with Lando, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.

It had been a whirlwind romance since you first met a few months ago, and now Lando was inviting you into his world, the heart of the F1 action.

"Lando, I'm really nervous," you confess, tugging at the collar of your Mclaren team jacket, a piece of clothing that now holds sentimental value beyond its sleek design.

Lando squeezes your hand reassuringly, his trademark grin lighting up his face.

"Don't worry, love. You'll be great. Everyone's going to love you."

With his comforting words, you make your way into the paddock, where the air is alive with the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics and drivers preparing for the weekend ahead.

Your first stop is to meet Lando's good friend and teammate turned rival, Carlos Sainz. As you approach, Carlos looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

"Lando! And who's this lovely lady?" Carlos greets you, his Spanish accent laced with warmth.

"This is Y/N, Carlos. My girlfriend." Lando introduces you proudly with a shy smile playing on his lips.

Carlos extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling a rush of gratitude for his friendly demeanor. Lando stands by your side, his comforting touch a constant reassurance; his hand strokes the small of your back, a subtle yet comforting gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I must say, you look great in that Mclaren gear," he motions to the jacket Land gave you a few days prior. "You're practically part of the team already."

You blush at the compliment, feeling a sense of belonging wash over you as you exchange pleasantries before Carlos gets called away to attend to his duties in the garage.

Next, you encounter Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc engaged in an animated discussion. Their laughter echoes through the paddock as they reminisce about the last race. As you approach, they exchange knowing smirks before Charles excuses himself, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Max bounds over to you, his infectious energy filling the air. "Well, well, well, Lando, you sly dog! Hiding your girlfriend from us, eh?"

Lando rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, Max. This is Y/N, by the way."

Max shakes your hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Don't worry, we won't give Lando too much trouble... maybe."

Their banter is like music to your ears, easing your nerves and making you feel like a part of the tight-knit F1 family. Amidst the lively banter and laughter, Lando's presence anchors you as the grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

After Max excuses himself as well, Oscar Piastri joins your little group. You had met him before, and he greeted you with a warm smile, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Excited?" Oscar asks, his Australian accent adding a touch of familiarity to the conversation.

"Excited doesn't even begin to cover it," you reply, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

Lando wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Come on, let's take a stroll through the paddock. I want to show you everything."

As you wander through the bustling paddock, Lando points out the intricacies of the garages, the sleek motorhomes where the drivers and teams strategize, and the various anemities that make the F1 experience truly one-of-a-kind.

With each step, your anxiety melts away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe at the world Lando inhabited.

At the same time, your eyes can't help but wander to Lando, taking in every detail. His Mclaren shirt hugs his lean frame perfectly, the familiar papaya orange contrasting beautifully against his sun-kissed skin. The casual elegance of his outfit, paired with jeans that fit just right, only serves to enhance his natural charm.

But it is his curly hair that always captivates you the most. Each unruly lock seems to have a mind of its own, framing his face in a way that is both effortlessly cool and undeniably endearing. Every time a stray curl falls across his forehead, your heart skips a beat, reminding you just how lucky you are to be by his side.

"Lando, your hair looks amazing today." You can't help but gush, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Thanks, love. It's a constant battle trying to tame these ecurls, but I'm glad you like them."

You smile and caress Lando's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. His stubble tickles you ever so slightly, but you welcome the sensation, relishing in the intimacy of your moment together.

"I love your beard, Lando," you murmur, tracing the contours of his jawline with your thumb. "It suits you so well."

A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes before a sheepish grin spreads across his face. "You do? I wasn't sure if I should keep it or not."

You nod emphatically, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Definetly keep it. It makes you look even more handsome, if that's even possible."

His laughter echoes through the air around you, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Lost in your quiet moment, a familiar voice breaks through the serenity around you. "Hey there, mate."

Startled, you turn to see Daniel Ricciardo approaching you, already donning his racing suit with that siganture grin plastered across his face.

Before Lando can react, Daniel reaches out and playfully pokes his sides, causing him to burst into giggles.

"Hey, Danny." Lando exclaims, returning the gesture with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Trying to distract me before training, huh?"

Daniel chuckles, his charm undeniable, as he joins you. "You know me, mate. Always up for a bit of fun."

Lando's arm finds its way around your waist, pulling you close, giving you comfort.

You fall into easy conversation, chatting about racing and sharing anecdotes from past experiences on the track. Daniel's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon enough, you are all laughing like old friends reunited.

After a while, Daniel excuses himself, a glint of determination in his eyes, as he prepares to focus on the upcoming race weekend. "Well, it's been great catching up, but duty calls. See you both later."

With a wave and a parting smile, he disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving behind a lingering sense of camaraderie that warms your heart.

You turn your head to find Lando looking at you, a warm smile forming on his lips.

"Lando," you say softly, overcome with emotion, "thank you for bringing me into the paddock."

A tender smile graces his lips as he gently caresses your cheek. "You did amazing, Y/N; I'm proud of you."

His words fill you with warmth, and as he leans in to kiss you, you feel a rush of love and affection wash over you, knowing that with Lando by your side, there is nothing you can't face together.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fluff

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niallerspayno · 4 months ago

Text

English Love Affair (frat boy Harry x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Inspired by the song English Love Affair by 5SOS

Request for @purplekimijks: What began as a one-time fling quickly evolves into something more as you and Harry find yourselves seeking each other out for frequent, secretive hook-ups. As Ashton’s sister and a songwriter for 5SOS, the situation grows more complicated by the day. Will you and Harry continue with these fleeting encounters, or will you take the risk and make it something real?

Tags: frat boy Harry x reader, Ashton x sister!reader, smut with plot

Author's note: I unfortunately never really got into 5SOS, which is weird because I saw them open for 1D in 2013 and I'm Australian - just incase I get any details wrong about them

...

The tour bus hums beneath your feet, the steady vibration lulling you into a sense of rhythm as you absentmindedly scribble lyrics in your notebook. Life on the road with 5 Seconds of Summer isn’t always glamorous, but it’s the kind of chaos you’ve grown used to—probably a genetic thing, considering your brother Ashton thrives in it.

Being the band’s unofficial fifth member and go-to songwriter is a role you love. You’re good at it, too—helping the boys find the words to match their stories, giving them the push they need when inspiration runs dry. It’s fulfilling, creative, and keeps you close to your brother.

But if you’re being honest, it’s not just the music that keeps you here.

It’s him.

Harry Styles.

You don’t know when it started—maybe the first time you met backstage at some award show, his charm disarming and his dimples practically illegal. Or maybe it’s been brewing longer, a quiet fascination that finally burst into a full-blown crush when One Direction invited 5SOS to join their tour.

Now you see him almost every day. In rehearsals. At afterparties. Lounging around during those rare, stolen moments of downtime. And every time, you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

It’s dangerous territory, crushing on someone like Harry. Ashton would lose his mind if he found out, and you can’t even imagine the chaos if the rest of 5SOS or One Direction caught wind. For now, you’re content to steal glances, laugh at his terrible jokes, and feel the thrill of his attention when his green eyes linger just a second too long.

“Daydreaming again?” Michael’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to find him smirking at you from across the lounge.

“Just working,” you say quickly, holding up your notebook as proof.

“Sure,” Michael teases, waggling his eyebrows. “Working on a song or working on Harry Styles in your head?”

Your face burns, and you throw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He laughs, dodging easily, and Ashton walks in, his expression suspicious. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” you and Michael say at the same time, a little too quickly.

Ashton narrows his eyes, but thankfully, he lets it slide. “Whatever. We’ve got soundcheck in fifteen. Let’s go.”

You gather your things, your pulse racing as you follow the boys out. In the corridor, you almost run into Harry himself, who flashes you that devastating grin and holds the door open for you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always does around him.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice low and smooth. His gaze lingers, just for a second, and it’s enough to make your thoughts spiral.

Yeah, this tour is going to be complicated.

…

The music thumps through the walls of the club, loud enough to make your chest vibrate. Ashton and the rest of the boys are deep into their second round of drinks, Michael and Luke shouting over each other about who can chug a beer faster. You should probably intervene before they make fools of themselves, but the atmosphere is charged, and you’re not in the mood to play referee.

Instead, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. The alley is dimly lit, the sounds of the party muted as you lean against the wall and take a deep breath.

“You, too, huh?”

The familiar voice makes your stomach flip. You turn your head to see Harry stepping out of the club, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black blazer. His hair is a little messy, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a teasing glimpse of the tattoos on his chest.

“Needed some air,” you say casually, though your pulse quickens when he walks closer.

“Same.” He leans against the wall beside you, close enough that his cologne—warm and woody—lingers in the space between you. “It gets a bit… much in there.”

You nod, unsure what to say. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the awareness of his presence is almost overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sounds of the city fill the silence: distant cars, muffled laughter from inside the club, the soft buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Harry says finally, his voice low.

“Just tired,” you lie, forcing a small smile.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know were there. “You’re not much of a party person, are you?”

“Not really.” You glance at him, trying to keep your tone light. “But it’s a necessary evil when you’re on tour with two bands of extroverts.”

Harry chuckles, the sound soft and warm. “Fair enough. But you do it well. I’ve noticed you’re good at blending in when you need to.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully. “You’ve noticed?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes your breath hitch. “I notice a lot of things about you.”

The air between you shifts, charged with something unspoken. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you’re sure he’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Instead, you find yourself closing the gap.

It’s not planned, not even a conscious decision—just a moment of pure impulse. His lips meet yours softly at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when he pulls you closer, his hand brushing your waist, the kiss deepens.

The world fades away, the sounds of the city and the party melting into nothing as the two of you press closer. There’s a heat, a hunger, that neither of you bothers to hide.

When you finally pull back, breathless, Harry’s green eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a playful curve to his lips.

“Well,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “That was unexpected.”

You laugh softly, the sound nervous but giddy. “Yeah. It… it was.”

But neither of you moves to step away. Instead, he leans in again, his breath brushing your ear.

“Think you can keep a secret?”

Your pulse races at Harry’s question, his breath warm against your skin. You should say something—anything—but all you can do is nod, your body leaning instinctively toward his.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine. The thrill of his words, combined with the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks, pushes you over the edge.

“Harry,” you manage to whisper, but it’s less of a protest and more of an invitation.

He takes the hint, his hands finding your waist as he presses you back against the wall. His mouth captures yours again, this time hungrier, deeper, as if he’s been holding himself back and can’t any longer. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of his blazer as his body pins you in place.

The alley is quiet, the world shrinking until it’s just the two of you. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, skimming the sensitive spot just below your ear. You bite back a gasp, the sound catching in your throat, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re so quiet,” he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. “I was starting to think I’d have to work harder.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him back to you.

He grins against your lips but doesn’t argue, his hands sliding down your waist to your hips. The pressure of his touch is firm, grounding, and you feel yourself melting against him.

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his lips slightly swollen from kissing you.

“Go where?” you ask, your voice breathless.

“Anywhere but here.” He nods toward the club. “Unless you want to risk your brother walking out and catching us.”

The mention of Ashton jolts you back to reality for a split second. This is a bad idea—a terrible idea, really—but the way Harry’s looking at you makes it impossible to care.

“Fine,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “Lead the way.”

He takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he pulls you toward the back entrance of the club. The thrill of sneaking off together sends a rush of adrenaline through you, and by the time you make it to his hotel room, you’re both laughing softly, your nerves tangled with excitement.

The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. The room is dim, the city lights filtering in through the window casting shadows on his face.

“You sure about this?” Harry asks, his voice low but serious.

You step closer, your hands sliding up his chest. “Are you?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you again, and this time there’s no hesitation. His hands are everywhere—your back, your waist, your thighs—pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. You stumble toward the bed, his jacket slipping off his shoulders and landing on the floor.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you let yourself fall back onto the soft mattress, pulling Harry with you. His weight presses down against you, solid and warm, grounding you in this moment that feels both thrilling and inevitable.

His lips move against yours, hungry and sure, leaving you breathless as his hands slide under your top, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist. The heat of his touch sparks a fire that spreads through your entire body, your senses heightened by the closeness of him—his warmth, his scent, the soft rasp of his stubble against your cheek.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice lower this time, tinged with impatience and raw need. His green eyes are darker now, locked onto yours, the question more of a formality than anything else.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you pull him down to you, crashing your lips into his, fingers tangling in his hair as you take what you’ve both been craving all night. It’s messy, hot, and desperate, and you feel his groan reverberate against your mouth as he presses his body firmly against yours, pinning you to the mattress.

The shift is immediate. His hands are on you, rougher now, gripping your waist and sliding down to your thighs with a possessive strength that sends a jolt of arousal through you. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be. You arch into him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grinds his hips into yours, his hardness pressing against you through the thin barrier of clothing still between you.

“God, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice ragged as his lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to leave marks. You gasp, your body responding instinctively as heat pools low in your stomach.

“Harry,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a plea, and it only spurs him on. He yanks your shirt over your head in one swift motion, his hands immediately returning to your bare skin. His palms are hot, his touch firm as they slide over your curves, fingers digging in just enough to leave a sting that’s more pleasure than pain.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry and intense.

You don’t give him a chance to say more. Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, tugging it off him in a rush before your fingers are on his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He smirks, the sight of your urgency clearly fueling his own, but he doesn’t stop you, his eyes darkening as you shove his jeans down his hips.

He’s on you again, his body pressing into yours with a weight that feels overwhelming in the best way. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his lips crashing against yours with a bruising intensity.

Your head tilts back against the pillows as he moves lower, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your chest before his lips trail lower, biting and sucking his way down. Your moan fills the room as he pulls your underwear down with a sharp tug, tossing it aside before his hands are on you again, exploring, teasing, claiming.

When he finally moves back up, his lips find yours again, rough and insistent, and you feel him against you, hard and ready. Your breath hitches as he presses forward, his hand gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place as he pushes into you with one slow, deliberate thrust.

The stretch is overwhelming, and you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your body adjusts to him. He stills for a moment, his chest heaving against yours as he curses under his breath, his control clearly hanging by a thread.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice strained. But the pause doesn’t last long. He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, and the sharp cry that escapes your lips only seems to fuel him.

The rhythm he sets is relentless, his hips snapping against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, tangling in your hair, pinning your wrists above your head as he takes you apart piece by piece.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice rough, and you force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals what little air you had left, and you feel the raw hunger in the way he looks at you, like he can’t get enough.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin against skin, and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling beneath him as you surrender completely to the heat and intensity of him.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as he drives into you harder, his grip on your hips almost bruising. And in this moment, you don’t care about anything else—just the way he feels, the way he makes you feel, and the fire that’s consuming you both.

The tension in your body builds with every thrust, every roll of his hips, each movement pushing you further toward the edge. Your nails dig into his skin as your body tightens, every inch of you alive with the electric buzz of him, the heat between you. You can feel him, deep inside you, moving relentlessly, his breath ragged and harsh against your neck.

"Harry..." you gasp, your voice breaking as your body starts to tremble, your chest heaving with the effort to hold on. You’re so close, so close that everything else fades away, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of him and the burning need for release.

"Fuck, I know," he grunts, his fingers gripping your hips harder, his pace quickening, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His eyes are locked on yours, his face a mixture of concentration and raw desire. "Come on, baby. Let go."

And then, just like that, it snaps. Your body gives way, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, your breath catching as you cry out his name. The world tilts as you lose yourself in him, the intensity of your release leaving you breathless, your body shaking as it waves through you.

Harry’s movements become more erratic, his control slipping as he follows you, his own release tearing through him with a low growl. You feel him pulse inside you, each throbbing wave of his climax pushing you even further into the haze of pleasure, your body still trembling under the weight of it.

He collapses onto you, his chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat, breathless from the overwhelming rush of it all. You lie there for a moment, both of you tangled in the aftermath, the room heavy with the echoes of your connection.

The silence between you is thick, the only sound the frantic beating of your hearts. His hand brushes against your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there as he raises his head to look at you. There's something almost apologetic in his expression, but also a glint of something deeper—satisfaction, maybe, or desire, or something you can't quite place.

"That was..." he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, before pulling away slightly to look at you again. "We don't tell anyone about this, right?"

You nod, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your touch. "Yeah. No one," you agree, your voice still a little breathless, but with a steady resolve.

His lips curl into a small, almost mischievous grin. "But we can definitely do it again, yeah?" he asks, his voice lowering, as though testing the waters.

You can’t help but smile at the suggestion, your fingers running through his hair as you look up at him, the heat of the moment still lingering. "Definitely," you reply, your voice steady, the hint of a laugh in your tone.

He leans down to kiss you again, soft and slow this time, a promise of more, as both of you settle back into the bed, the world outside forgotten. The night stretches ahead, and in the quiet aftermath, there’s only the unspoken agreement between you—what happened stays between the two of you. But it’s not over. Not by a long shot.

...

You wake up to the soft light of dawn streaming through the window, the quiet hum of the city just beyond the walls of the hotel room. You’re tangled in the sheets, your body still warm from the night before, but there’s an underlying tension creeping in with the awareness of what happened. You blink a few times, the events from last night flooding your mind in vivid flashes—his touch, the way he kissed you, the way your bodies moved together, and the marks he left on you.

You feel his breath on the back of your neck before you even realize Harry’s awake. He’s lying next to you, his arm draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, looking impossibly calm for someone who shared such an intense experience with you.

Your eyes widen when you catch sight of the dark purple marks scattered across your neck, a line of them creeping down toward your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat as you shift slightly, trying not to wake him. Then your fingers trail down to your hips, where you feel the telltale pressure of his hand—the faint outline of bruises, each one a reminder of the night’s wild intensity.

Panic starts to creep in. You have to hide these. You have to figure out how to sneak back to your room without anyone seeing. You don’t even know why it’s bothering you this much; it’s not like you and Harry made any promises, not like anyone would find out. Still, the idea of the band—especially Ashton—finding out makes your stomach churn.

Carefully, you slip out of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, but Harry stirs slightly. You freeze, heart hammering in your chest, but he simply groans softly and rolls onto his back, one hand draped casually over his eyes, completely unfazed. His deep voice, laced with sleep, cuts through the silence.

“Morning,” he says, his tone as nonchalant as ever, like he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you stand near the bed, searching for something—anything—to cover the marks. Your mind races, fingers fumbling as you search for a shirt or anything that will help hide the evidence.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low but teasing, not even glancing your way as he stretches. He’s acting so casually about it, like nothing out of the ordinary happened, like he doesn’t see the way you’re scrambling to cover up.

“Yeah,” you mutter, forcing a laugh, though it’s thin and awkward. You grab your shirt from the floor, pulling it over your head in a hurry. “Just, uh... need to go back to my room. Don’t want anyone to notice.”

Harry finally opens his eyes, his lips curling into a small, apologetic smile as he watches you. He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, nodding toward your neck and hips, where the marks are still evident. “I didn’t mean to leave them... though, you do look pretty fucking beautiful with them.”

You glance at him, surprised by his tone—genuinely regretful but also teasing, in that way only Harry can pull off. You try not to smile, but it’s impossible not to. The apology, even if wrapped in his usual charm, makes something warm stir in your chest.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrug, trying to brush it off, even though you’re clearly bothered. You finish pulling on your jeans, quickly tugging the fabric over the marks on your hips. “I’ll figure it out.”

Harry slides closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s much gentler than anything from last night—sincere, almost apologetic.

“Next time, I’ll be more careful,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traces the side of your neck where the marks are, making you shiver. “But I’m not sorry for last night. That was perfect.”

You lean into him, kissing him back for a moment longer before pulling away. "You really have to stop marking me," you tease lightly, but you can’t help but grin. "People are going to ask questions."

He grins back, his lips curving into that devil-may-care smirk. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say we were... being friendly,” he says, his tone playful but laced with that same intensity from the night before.

You laugh softly, but there's a tightness in your chest that you can’t quite shake. As much as you want to be carefree like him, you know the reality of sneaking back to your room is a little more complicated.

“I’ve got to go,” you say, standing up quickly, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation. “Before anyone notices.”

Harry nods, his smirk never fading, his eyes still gleaming with that mixture of mischief and satisfaction. “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t tell anyone.”

You pause, glancing back at him as you reach for the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He leans back on the bed, his hands behind his head, looking completely unfazed by the chaos of the night you both shared. “You know where to find me,” he says, his voice casual, but there’s that familiar undercurrent of promise.

You slip out of the room, your heart pounding, your mind racing. The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, breathing in the cool hallway air. It feels like everything just changed, and you’re not entirely sure how to process it. But as you make your way back to your room, you can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time Harry’s hands leave marks on your skin.

...

You walk into the breakfast area, trying to shake off the lingering tension from last night. Harry’s already sitting with a coffee, looking casual as ever. You meet his gaze, but the smile he gives you is knowing, making your pulse race for a second before you force yourself to act normal.

The rest of the band is chatting, and you take a seat, trying to ignore the burn of the marks on your neck and hips. Ashton’s eyes keep flicking to you, the silence between you palpable. You can feel the weight of his stare.

Liam, ever the conversationalist, breaks the tension with an innocent enough question. “Hey, what’s up with you two?” he asks, glancing between you and Harry.

Harry shrugs, cool as ever. “Nothing, mate. Just breakfast.”

You nod quickly, sipping your coffee, trying to seem casual. But Ashton’s quiet. He’s not buying it. His eyes flick to your side, where you shift uncomfortably. “You okay?” he asks, his voice sharp, before glancing at Harry with suspicion.

“I’m fine,” you snap a little too quickly, and Harry intervenes just in time, his voice smooth and easy. “We’re all just adjusting to the time change, right?”

Ashton hesitates but then shrugs it off. The conversation moves on, but you feel like something’s off.

Then Niall spots the marks on your side. “Hey, what’s that?” he asks, pointing. “New ink or something?”

Before you can answer, Louis leans in with a grin. “Bite marks? Who’d you go home with?”

You force a laugh, brushing it off. “Just some random guy from the club. It didn’t mean anything.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “A random guy at the club? Didn’t expect that from you.”

You shrug. “Sometimes you just need to blow off steam.”

Louis teases more, but Ashton’s quiet, his jaw tight as he observes. “Sure,” he mutters, his tone colder. “Nothing.”

You feel the shift in the air, Ashton’s unspoken frustration hanging between you, but you stay silent. Harry gives you a small nod, his eyes locking with yours for just a second before turning back to his coffee.

The rest of the conversation continues, but you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows—or at least senses—something happened. And you’re left trying to keep it together, even though the heat from last night still burns beneath your skin.

...

A few days have passed since breakfast, and things have shifted, though no one’s mentioned last night’s heat. The band is busy with rehearsals and interviews, and the air between you and Harry feels charged, like electricity just waiting to snap.

That night, after the show, you slip away from the usual after-party chaos. You need to clear your head, to get some space from the noise and the people, but the moment you step outside, your gaze lands on him. Harry’s leaning against the back of the venue, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the stars like he’s waiting for something—someone.

You’re not sure what pulls you to him, but you find your feet moving before you can stop them. When he sees you, that smirk appears, the one that you know so well, and his eyes light up.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he says, his voice smooth but with a hint of playfulness.

You stop in front of him, the cool night air biting at your skin. "Couldn't sleep," you reply, your heart already picking up pace as he steps closer.

"Couldn’t sleep, huh?" He steps forward, his hand brushing against yours. The simple touch sends a wave of heat through you, making it impossible to ignore the tension between you two. “I think I might be able to help with that.”

The words hang in the air, thick with meaning, and without thinking, you close the distance between you. His lips find yours almost instantly, pulling you into him. The kiss is hungry this time, no teasing, just raw need.

His hands are on your body, pushing you against the cold brick of the building, his lips trailing along your jawline, down your neck. Every movement is deliberate, urgent. You gasp when his teeth graze your skin, a rush of heat flooding your veins. You can feel him hard against your stomach, and it makes you dizzy.

“Right here?” you ask breathlessly, your hands running over the muscles of his back, the tension in his body matching your own.

He looks at you, his green eyes dark and intense, a spark of mischief dancing in them. “Why not?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s just us.”

You don’t hesitate. With a quick move, your hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. His skin is warm under your fingers, and your breath catches when his lips find yours again, harder this time.

You can’t keep up with the speed of it, the way he’s pushing you toward a part of the alley where the shadows swallow you whole. His hands move over your body, finding the zip of your jacket and pulling it down. Every touch, every movement sends you spiraling. There’s no waiting this time, no slow build-up. It's frantic, raw, like you’re both trying to chase the same thing.

You help him out of his jeans, the fabric sliding off his legs just as you pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air hits your bare skin, but Harry's warmth, the heat of his body, is enough to make you forget the chill.

With a sudden, fluid motion, he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrap around his waist. His lips are back on yours, and you can feel the intensity building again, the desperation of it. You feel his cock against you, and a shiver runs through you at the feel of him, so close, so desperate.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands find their way to your hips, guiding you toward him. The way his fingers dig into your skin makes your heart race even faster.

The way he enters you, quick and relentless, takes your breath away. The world narrows down to the sensation of him filling you, the rhythm of his thrusts, the pressure in all the right places. You meet him with equal urgency, the rhythm between you sharp and frantic.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to build, for the world to go blurry and insubstantial. You’re caught in the force of it, lost in the way his body moves against yours, in the sound of his breath, his low groans as he pushes deeper.

It’s raw, fast, just what you both need to feel alive. The noise around you fades into nothing. All that exists is him—his touch, his body, the overwhelming heat that’s too much and not enough at the same time.

And when you reach the edge, when everything seems to come apart at once, you feel him release into you, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, guttural sound that makes you dizzy. It crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and you cling to him, riding the wave of pleasure until it finally fades.

You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath, leaning against each other for support. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, still breathing heavily. “You good?” he asks, his voice soft but rough from the intensity of it all.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him, feeling the aftermath of everything. You didn’t know it would feel this good—this easy, this undeniable. But it does.

“I’m good,” you reply, your hands still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat match your own.

He smirks again, leaning down to kiss you one more time, his lips soft now, slower, almost tender. "This isn't over," he murmurs against your lips. "We’re not done yet."

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a knowing smirk of your own. "I think we both know that."

...

A few days later again, and the night is loud, the music and chatter from the party blending with the thrumming bass of your own pulse. You're moving through the crowd, adrenaline pulsing, and you know exactly where you're heading. You don’t need to find him—Harry’s always in the same spot, tucked away from the chaos, waiting for the perfect moment.

You don’t waste time looking for him. As soon as you find him, you step into his space without hesitation. He’s leaning against the wall near the back of the venue, his eyes immediately finding you as you approach. The air between you thickens, a knowing tension hanging heavy in the seconds before you speak.

He smirks, his lips curling, but his eyes are dark with something more dangerous. “You alright?” His voice is low, deliberate, the edge of it making your pulse quicken.

You don’t answer with words. You reach up, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and pull him into a hard, bruising kiss. The kind that burns, urgent and hot. No hesitation. No sweet words. You’ve had enough of waiting, of being passive.

Harry’s hands find your waist, but you don’t give him the chance to pull you closer. Instead, you shove him back, pinning him against the wall with your body. His breath hitches, and for a moment, you feel his control slipping.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Not this time,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire. “I’m in charge tonight.”

Harry’s lips part, a flicker of something dark passing through his gaze. He’s caught off guard for a second, but the challenge only fuels him. He smirks, but it’s different now—almost predatory. “You sure about that?”

Without answering, you grab his wrist and tug him toward the back hall. There’s a small storage cupboard just around the corner, hidden from the rest of the crew. You reach it quickly, slipping inside with Harry close behind you, your back pressing against the cool metal door.

The moment the door closes behind you, it’s like the world shrinks to just the two of you. There’s no one around to stop it, no one to see what happens next. And that’s exactly what you want.

You waste no time, pushing him up against the shelves, the sound of metal scraping against the wall echoing in the small space. Your hands are on him instantly, pulling at his jeans, your mouth on his neck, the heat between you rising fast. There’s no teasing, no soft caress—just the immediate pressure of wanting him, needing him, right here, right now.

Harry’s hands come to your hips, fingers digging in as he tries to guide you, but you won’t let him. You’re not here for him to control. You kiss him again, harder this time, your hands undoing his belt, unzipping his jeans with quick, practiced movements. When you pull him free, his breath catches in his throat, and you feel him twitch under your touch.

“You think you can just take over?” Harry’s voice is low, rough, and it makes your pulse race even faster.

“You’re about to find out,” you respond, your voice steady despite the heat building inside you. You drop to your knees in front of him, not wasting a second before you take him in your mouth. It’s quick, sharp, the way you want it. His groan fills the small space, and you feel the way his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you closer.

You know he’s holding back, fighting against the rush of pleasure, but you won’t give him the chance to regain control. You move faster, harder, your mouth working him while your hands hold his hips still, forcing him to take everything you give him.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his voice strained, low. His grip on your hair tightens, his chest heaving as he struggles to stay in control. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

You look up at him, meeting his darkened gaze, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s almost like he wants to push you away, take the lead again, but he can’t. Not now. You’re too far in control. You pull away for a moment, and his eyes flicker to yours with frustration.

But before he can say anything, you grab his wrist and pull him into the corner of the cupboard. The cramped space forces you both closer, heat between your bodies rising by the second. You push him back against the shelves, your hands sliding over his chest before you drop to your knees again, taking him in your hand, guiding him where you need him most.

This time, there’s no slowing down. You lower yourself onto him in one quick motion, feeling the stretch of him fill you completely. The angle is different, sharper, and the way he groans under you sends a thrill of power through you. You move against him, setting the pace, your body riding him with the urgency of a fire you can’t put out.

His hands grip your hips, but you don’t let him take over. You fuck him harder, faster, feeling the pull of your body tightening with each movement. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the small space, your breath coming in quick bursts, matching the frantic rhythm between you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice low and raspy as his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He’s close, you can feel it. But you don’t stop. You drive yourself harder onto him, taking him deeper with each thrust.

The heat builds, pressure coiling tighter and tighter until, with one final, sharp push, you both come undone. The force of it takes you by surprise, your body trembling as you collapse against him.

You’re both breathless, sweaty, and still reeling from the intensity. Harry holds you close for a moment, his hands running up and down your back, trying to steady both of you. You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You didn’t think I could take control, did you?” you tease, your voice husky with satisfaction.

Harry chuckles, his lips brushing your forehead as he presses a soft kiss there. “You fucking blew me away, love,” he mutters, his voice filled with admiration and something else—something you can’t quite place.

You smile against his chest, the rush of power fading as you both come back down. You’re not done, not by a long shot. But for now, you both stay there in the cramped storage cupboard, tangled in each other’s arms, letting the aftermath wash over you.

For now, it's just you and him.

...

The next day, you walk into your hotel room, exhausted from the day's events, only to find Harry waiting for you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, he’s there, stepping toward you with that same confident smirk on his lips. His eyes are dark, and his stance says it all—he’s taking control again.

You try to keep your cool, but your pulse is already quickening. You hadn’t expected him to follow you, hadn’t thought he would be here, but now that he is, there’s no denying what’s about to happen.

“Still thinking about last night?” he asks, voice low and teasing, as he reaches you in two strides.

You can barely find the words. All you can do is stare back at him, your body reacting before your brain can catch up. “I thought we agreed—”

“We did,” he cuts you off, his hand brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. “But I think it's my turn again.”

His mouth is on yours before you can protest. It’s a demanding kiss, his lips parting yours with purpose. His hands quickly make their way to your body, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of him, the hard press of his chest against yours. There’s no room for hesitation, no time to think. He knows what he wants, and he's making sure you know it, too.

“Take your clothes off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, but his eyes never leave yours.

Your body moves almost involuntarily, your shirt falling to the floor as he watches, his gaze intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you now that sends a rush of heat to your core. You can feel your body responding before you even realize it, your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer.

With one swift motion, he pushes you back toward the bed, never breaking eye contact, his hands on your waist, guiding you down. You’re almost powerless against his grip, the way his hands are everywhere, touching, exploring, pulling you closer.

"Stay still," Harry growls as he hovers over you, his lips trailing down your neck. His touch is rough, deliberate, his hands gripping you like he owns you. You try to fight it, try to hold on to some sense of control, but it’s impossible.

His mouth moves to your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, leaving marks, branding you in a way that only he can. "You’re mine, remember that," he mutters against your skin, before trailing his lips lower, down your chest.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, his fingers are at your waist, slipping under your waistband. You tense at the suddenness of it, but there’s no stopping him. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he's moving, quickly and efficiently, pulling you closer, his mouth returning to your skin.

“Missed this,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding over your hips, his touch like fire.

He flips you onto your stomach before you can even react. His hands grip your hips, pulling them up, positioning you exactly the way he wants you. You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming. It’s not gentle. He’s not gentle. His hand smacks against your ass, hard enough to sting, and you gasp.

“Don’t move,” he growls, his voice rough as he enters you in one swift motion. The force of it makes you cry out, the suddenness taking your breath away.

He doesn’t wait. His thrusts are relentless, harsh, driving into you with a power that has your body shaking. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing tender. It’s all control, all power, and you can’t help but give into it, letting him take you in a way that only he can. The bed creaks beneath you, his hand still gripping your hip with a bruising force, and the sound of his skin meeting yours fills the room.

He’s rough, pushing you to the edge, your body moving with his, the tension building in your stomach. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his pace quickening. The marks on your neck throb with every movement, the bites and bruises adding to the intensity. You can feel him everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his body against yours.

It’s not long before you feel the tension snap, your body clenching around him as you cry out, your release crashing over you. Harry doesn’t stop. He keeps going, chasing his own release, his grip tightening as he finishes with a low groan, his body shuddering against yours.

He stays inside you for a moment, his hands resting on your hips, before he pulls out slowly. You collapse onto the bed, breathless, the marks on your neck and hips still stinging with the reminder of what just happened. He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the marks he left, his lips lingering on your skin.

"Next time, don’t try to fight me," he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure you remember who’s in charge.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought, your body still tingling from the aftermath. Harry pulls away, his expression smug as always, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

...

The night air is thick with the promise of something to come, the city lights flickering below as the storm clouds gather above. You’ve been feeling the electricity between you and Harry all evening, the kind of tension that only seems to grow the longer you spend together. Tonight, something is different—there’s an undeniable pull that neither of you can ignore.

You’re in Harry’s hotel room, lounging on the couch, the hum of the city barely reaching your ears through the thick glass windows. Outside, the wind picks up, and you catch the first few drops of rain against the glass. You glance over at Harry, and your heart races at the sight of the mischievous grin that’s spreading across his face.

“You know,” he starts, voice low and tempting, “I’ve got a better idea than staying in here.”

Before you can ask, he’s already pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with a firm urgency. The way his eyes glint with intent sends a thrill running through you, your pulse quickening. Without a word, he leads you to the door, and your stomach flips with the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

As you step into the hallway, the sound of rain grows louder, and Harry’s grip tightens around your wrist, guiding you toward a hidden staircase. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, a devilish smile tugging at his lips.

The air is charged with something unspoken, and as you ascend the stairs, you can feel the growing anticipation, your heart thumping in your chest. The storm outside is starting to pick up, a low rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. As you reach the rooftop door, Harry opens it, and the full force of the rain hits you—cold and sharp, the droplets crashing down as you step onto the wet rooftop.

The view is breathtaking, the city sprawled out beneath you, the sky above heavy with rain. You can hear the sound of water pounding against the pavement, but it doesn’t drown out the rush of your heartbeat as Harry turns to face you. His lips are on yours before you can even think, hot and insistent despite the cold rain soaking through your clothes.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur between kisses, your hands gripping his shirt as the rain drenches you both.

“You have no idea,” Harry replies, his breath hot against your ear. He pulls back for a moment, looking down at you with that smirk of his. “Let’s take this somewhere... a little more private.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs your hand and leads you toward the far side of the roof, where a small, secluded corner offers some shelter from the storm. The wind howls around you, but the heat between you both only intensifies. Harry’s fingers work their way down your body, pulling you closer, your breath coming faster.

He presses you against the wall, his lips finding yours once more in a kiss that’s rough, desperate. His hands slide under your clothes, the cold rain making his touch even more electric against your heated skin. There’s no teasing this time—he’s all urgency, a desperate need that matches the pounding rain around you.

“Harry,” you gasp, your hands pushing his shirt off, “we shouldn’t be—”

But you’re cut off by his mouth trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands push you further against the wall. His words are muffled against your skin. “We don’t need to care about that now, do we?”

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins as you feel his hands tugging at your clothes, eager, impatient. The rain pelts down harder, drenching both of you, but it only makes everything feel more intense—more real. You’re soaked, and yet there’s nothing about the cold that can stop the heat building between you two.

He drags you up against him, his lips moving with feverish need, kissing you in the rain like it’s the only thing that matters. You can barely keep up as he lifts you, pressing you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you further into the corner.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice rough and low as he grinds against you. His hands roam, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. You respond with equal hunger, the rain streaming down your face, the world falling away as you lose yourself in him.

His lips trail down to your neck, biting into your skin, leaving a mark that’s sure to last. The cold rain and the heat between you are at odds, yet they make everything feel more electrifying. You can’t stop your own moans, your fingers tangled in his wet hair as you pull him closer.

“Harry,” you whisper, your voice breaking as he moves faster, more urgently, each thrust more demanding than the last.

With each breathless moment, you know this won’t be the last time you end up like this—caught between the madness of the storm and the chaos of everything you two are. You’re both drenched, but it doesn’t matter. The rain may fall, but it’s the fire between you that keeps you both burning, relentless, until the world outside seems to disappear.

...

A few weeks have passed since that first hookup with Harry, and the tension between the two of you has only grown. The encounters have become more frequent, more intense. Sometimes it feels like there’s no hiding what’s between you, even though you’re doing your best to keep it under wraps. Harry’s smirks have become a constant, and the moments when he looks at you with that knowing glint in his eyes have started to make your stomach flip every time.

The bands—5SOS and One Direction—have started picking up on it, though no one’s come right out and said anything yet. There’s an unspoken feeling in the air, a shift in the dynamic, but everyone’s too polite—or too unaware—to confront it directly. The only one who seems to have picked up on something more than the others is Ashton. He’s been quieter, his eyes lingering on you with that concerned look you’ve come to recognise. He’s your brother, and you know him well enough to know that he senses something, but hasn’t quite put his finger on it.

You’re sitting backstage, your guitar resting on your knee, the hum of voices and instruments in the background. You’ve been working on a new song—one that’s personal, raw, and a little too close to the truth for comfort. The lyrics have poured out of you, each word more revealing than the last. It’s about what’s been happening with Harry, about the passion, the uncertainty, and the way he makes you feel all at once. You’ve titled it “English Love Affair,” a playful nod to the chaos of your tangled situation.

It’s time to show the guys. The atmosphere is a bit lighter today, everyone milling around in a relaxed mood after a long rehearsal. You grab your guitar, your fingers hovering over the strings as you make your way to where 5SOS and One Direction are gathered. Ashton notices you first, giving you a small smile, though his eyes still hold that familiar concern. The others are scattered around the room, laughing, teasing, but there’s a flicker of interest when they see the guitar in your hands.

“Got something to share, love?” Louis calls out from across the room, his voice loud and playful.

“Yeah, she’s been working on something,” Niall adds, eyeing you curiously.

You take a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’d been writing for months, but this one—this one feels different. The song is about Harry. About all the emotions, the heat, the connection, and the chaos of what you two have been doing. You’re not sure if you’re ready to show them yet, but if anyone’s going to understand, it’s them. You know how to separate your personal feelings from your music, but with this song, it’s a little harder to mask it all.

“Yeah,” you reply, strumming a few notes to test the sound, “it’s... a new one.”

Ashton steps forward, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. His eyes are on you, searching, but there’s a quiet understanding there, even if he’s not sure what’s going on. You meet his gaze, offering a quick smile before looking down at your guitar.

The guys quiet down as you start to play, the melody flowing easily as you strum the chords. Your voice fills the space, the words slipping out with a raw honesty that makes your heart race:

“It started on a weekend in May I was looking for attention, needed intervention Felt somebody looking at me With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection

The way she looked was so ridiculous Every single step had me waiting for the next Before I knew it, it was serious Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car”

As you sing, the room grows quieter. The words, the rawness, the honesty—it’s clear this is something personal, something deeper than the usual pop tunes they’re used to hearing from you. You continue, each verse building with the tension that’s been hanging between you and Harry:

“When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain I can't forget, my English love affair Today, I'm seven thousand miles away The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget My English love affair My English love affair”

The last chord rings out, and the room is silent for a moment. You lower the guitar, waiting for their reaction, your heart thudding in your chest. Ashton is the first to speak, his voice quiet but steady.

“So, what’s this really about?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and something else—something you can’t quite read.

You don’t know how to answer. The song is about him, but it’s not. It’s about the complications, the passion, the messiness of what’s been happening between you two. It’s about more than just sex—it’s about feelings, connection, confusion. But you know the guys won’t get that. They’ll just hear the lyrics, the heat, and they’ll know. They’ll know exactly what you’ve been hiding.

You hesitate for a second, then shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s just a song. You know, inspiration. Whatever comes to mind.”

But Ashton doesn’t seem convinced. His gaze sharpens, and you can feel him trying to decipher what’s going on. The others, though, are still taking it in, the intensity of the lyrics lingering in the air.

“I mean, it sounds like something... more than just a song,” Luke says, his tone casual but with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Michael adds with a smirk.

You try to laugh it off, but Ashton’s stare is unwavering. He’s not buying it. He knows something’s up, and though he’s not pressing you for answers, you can feel the weight of his silence.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just some fun lyrics.”

But in the back of your mind, you know that everything is far from just “fun” anymore. The song says it all, even if you’re not ready to admit it.

...

It’s late, long after the song reveal. The buzz of everyone’s reactions still lingers in the air, but you’ve distanced yourself from the others, needing a moment alone to process it all. You’re sitting in the corner of your hotel room, the soft hum of the city filtering through the window. The lyrics you poured out have left you raw, the reality of what you’ve been doing with Harry settling heavily in your chest.

Writing the song made you realize something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge before: you want more. This—whatever this thing is between you and Harry—isn’t enough. It’s thrilling, electric, and addictive, but it’s not real. And you can’t keep letting it consume you if it’s never going to be anything more.

The knock at your door startles you. You already know who it is before you even open it. Harry stands there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk in place. But there’s something more in his eyes tonight—a flicker of something softer, almost vulnerable.

“You were brilliant today,” he says, his voice low. “The song... it’s incredible.”

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice quiet but steady. You step aside to let him in, but as you close the door behind him, you already know how this conversation will go.

Harry wastes no time. The moment you’re alone, he steps closer, his hands finding your waist as his lips brush against your neck. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, “I can’t stop thinking about that song. About you.”

You place your hands on his chest, stopping him gently but firmly. “Harry,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

He pauses, pulling back slightly to look at you. His brows furrow, and you can see the confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say, your words steady but heavy with meaning.

His hands drop from your waist, and he steps back, his expression shifting to something you can’t quite read. “What do you mean?”

You meet his gaze, determined not to waver. “I mean this. Us. These... hook-ups, the sneaking around. It’s not enough for me, Harry. Writing that song—it made me realize I want more. I can’t keep doing this if it’s never going to be anything real.”

Harry’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he might argue. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know how complicated this is,” he says, his voice quieter now. “With the bands, the press... everything.”

“I know,” you reply, your tone softer but still firm. “But that doesn’t change what I want. I can’t keep being this... secret. If you don’t want more, then we need to stop.”

The room feels heavy, the weight of your words hanging between you. Harry looks at you, his green eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right thing to say. But he stays silent, his hesitation speaking louder than any words could.

You feel your chest tighten, but you force yourself to stay strong. “I care about you,” you continue, “but I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me. So unless you’re ready to make this real, we go our separate ways.”

Harry’s gaze drops to the floor, and you can see the conflict written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I mean it, Harry,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks back up at you, and for a moment, you think he might say something—anything—to fight for you. But instead, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart aches, but you know you’ve made the right choice. You step back, giving him the space to leave, and after a long, silent moment, he does. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, your emotions swirling as you try to process what just happened. It hurts, but deep down, you know you deserve more. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to love you out loud, someone who will choose you without hesitation.

And if Harry isn’t ready to be that person, then it’s better this way.

...

The greenroom hums with pre-show energy—chatter, guitar tuning, the low buzz of excitement. You sit on the couch, your notebook resting on your lap, though the words you’re scribbling barely register. The tension in your chest is suffocating. Since giving Harry your ultimatum, he hasn’t acted on it, and it’s tearing you apart. Worse, the teasing from both bands has started to escalate as they slowly piece things together.

“So, Y/N,” Louis calls out, his grin mischievous, “who’s the muse behind your little ‘English Love Affair’ masterpiece?”

Your head snaps up, heat crawling up your neck. “It’s just a song,” you reply quickly, forcing a light tone.

“Sure,” Niall drawls, smirking. “Except it sounds like someone’s been dragging you up staircases and kissing you in the rain. Pretty specific, if you ask me.”

Michael leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “And the sudden obsession with scarves? You trying to start a trend or cover up some marks?”

Liam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Definitely the latter,” he murmurs, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“I knew something was up,” Luke adds, his teasing smirk widening. “You’re glowing, Y/N.”

“Alright, alright,” Calum cuts in, laughing. “Who’s the mystery guy? Come on, spill.”

The room falls quiet as everyone turns their attention to you. Your heart pounds, panic tightening your throat. Before you can stammer out a response, Ashton’s voice cuts through the noise.

“That’s enough,” he snaps, his tone sharp and unyielding.

All heads swivel to him, the easygoing atmosphere evaporating. He pushes off the wall where he’d been leaning, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes dart between you and Harry, narrowing as the pieces click into place.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Ashton’s voice is low, but the anger simmering beneath it is unmistakable.

Your stomach twists as the room goes deathly silent. Harry, sitting on the armrest of a nearby chair, stiffens but doesn’t look away.

“Ashton—” you start, your voice trembling, but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” Ashton says, his gaze locked on Harry now. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Harry rises to his feet, his expression calm but guarded. “Ashton, I—”

“You’ve been sneaking around with my sister,” Ashton interrupts, his voice rising. “Sleeping with her behind everyone’s back? Leaving marks all over her? And now you’re stringing her along like she’s some casual hookup?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “It’s not like that,” he says firmly.

“Oh, really?” Ashton’s laugh is cold and bitter. “Because it sure as hell looks like you’re screwing her over—physically and emotionally—while you figure out whatever it is you want.”

“Ashton, stop!” you plead, stepping forward, but Zayn gently places a hand on your arm, holding you back.

“Let them talk it out,” Zayn says softly, though his dark eyes are watchful.

Harry steps closer to Ashton, his voice tight but steady. “I care about her,” he says. “More than you can imagine.”

“Then why are you hurting her?” Ashton demands, his face red with anger. “You’re leaving her bruised, confused, and heartbroken, Harry. That’s not love—that’s you being a selfish prick.”

“I know I’ve messed up,” Harry snaps back, his composure finally cracking. “I know I’ve handled this all wrong. But I’m not using her. I’d never do that to her.”

Ashton scoffs, his fists clenching at his sides. “You already are. If you cared about her, you’d stop treating her like some dirty little secret and give her the respect she deserves. She’s not just some girl you can screw around with—she’s my sister.”

Harry flinches at that, the weight of Ashton’s words visibly sinking in.

The tension is suffocating, the room silent except for the heavy breaths of the two men squaring off. Finally, Louis breaks the silence with an awkward cough. “Well… this is fun,” he mutters, earning a glare from both Ashton and Harry.

“Ashton,” Liam says gently, stepping forward. “Maybe give them a chance to work this out?”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Ashton retorts, his eyes narrowing. “Harry knows what he needs to do. Either step up or stay the hell away from her.”

“Ashton, I can handle this,” you say, your voice trembling but firm.

Ashton looks at you, his expression softening slightly, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I hope so, Y/N,” he says quietly. “Because you deserve better than this.”

He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The echo rings out in the silence, leaving everyone in a tense, uneasy stillness.

Harry turns to you, his face unreadable. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

You nod, though your chest feels tight. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Because the truth is, neither of you are okay.

...

The steady patter of rain against the hotel window is the only sound in the room as you sit on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed, your fingers lightly tapping the sheets. You’ve been staring at the door, thinking about everything that’s happened—the conversation with Ashton, the way he confronted you, and how much of your own behavior you’ve been running from.

When the knock comes, you know it’s him.

“Come in,” you call out softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

The door creaks open, and Harry steps inside, looking hesitant but determined. His hair’s damp from the rain, his jacket clinging to his shoulders. For a moment, he doesn’t move, just looks at you, eyes searching, waiting for permission.

He steps closer, his voice low when he speaks. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the way I’ve been handling this... or not handling it.”

You don’t respond immediately, your mind racing with the weight of everything. You’ve been torn in so many directions lately, guilty for the way you’ve been playing this game with him, unsure if you were using him to fill a void, or if it was something deeper.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were nothing more than a distraction,” Harry continues, his voice thick with sincerity. “But I’ve been acting like I don’t care about you, and I do. I care about you more than I’ve let on.”

You take a slow breath, looking up at him. “I’ve been stringing you along too, haven’t I?” you say quietly, the guilt surfacing. “I let things go on like this—casual, no strings, knowing full well that I wanted more, but not giving you a chance to show it. I made it so easy for you to stay at arm’s length, but I don’t want that anymore.”

Harry’s face softens, and he steps closer, kneeling in front of you. His hands hover near yours before finally resting gently over them. “I’m glad you said that,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “Because the truth is, I’m scared too. Scared of what this means for us, for the band, for everything. But what I’m not scared of is you. I don’t want it to just be a fling anymore. I want this. I want you. For real. Not just when it’s convenient or when we’re sneaking around.”

Your heart flutters as you take his words in, your fingers curling slightly around his. You’ve heard him say things like this before, but now—this feels different. There’s no more running, no more hiding.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice steady, though a hint of uncertainty lingers. “But we both know this isn’t easy. I can’t keep doing this with you unless it’s real, Harry. No more games, no more keeping it quiet. If you’re in this, then I’m in it too. But I can’t keep pretending, not anymore. And if you can’t do that, then we’ll have to go our separate ways.”

Harry swallows, his gaze intense as he watches you. He’s not looking at you with the same playful glint as before. This time, it’s sincere, the weight of his words matching the look in his eyes.

“I’m in it,” he says quietly, nodding. “For real. I want you, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you it’s real. I’m not backing down this time.”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening with relief. There’s something so final about his words, something that makes you feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter.

“Okay,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “No more pretending. We do this, or we don’t. But I’m not looking back.”

He leans into your touch, pressing his lips to your palm gently. “I don’t want to look back either.”

The moment stretches between you, the weight of the words still lingering, but now there’s a sense of peace—a promise that this, whatever this is, will be real.

You lean in, closing the distance, your lips brushing over his in a kiss that’s softer than the ones before, but carries the weight of something much more substantial. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“We’ve got this,” he says quietly, a hint of a smile curving on his lips.

The quiet between you both is comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding. For once, there’s no rush. No expectations. Just the two of you, finally on the same page. Harry stays close, his hands gently brushing against yours as he leans back against the bed, pulling you with him. You settle into his arms, your body fitting perfectly against his.

The only sounds in the room are the soft rustle of the sheets and the gentle rhythm of your breaths. Harry’s fingers trace small circles along your back, as if memorizing the feel of you in his arms, and you do the same, your hand resting over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice low, a little hoarse from the emotion of the conversation, though it still holds that warmth you’ve always loved.

You nod, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “Yeah. I’m good. It feels like… everything makes sense now. Like I’m not pretending anymore. Like this is real.”

His lips curl into a soft smile as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I want you to know, Y/N, that this is real for me. All of it.”

The words linger between you both, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. They feel freeing. The quietness of the room feels like a safe cocoon, a place where nothing needs to be rushed, where there are no games, no pressure. Just the quiet rhythm of the two of you, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

You press your lips to his, gently, a soft kiss that’s slow and unhurried. It’s not about passion in this moment. It’s about connection. About feeling the weight of what’s changed between you both. The kiss deepens, but it doesn’t push for more—it’s tender, the kind of kiss that’s meant for taking your time, for savoring what’s just beginning to unfold.

Pulling back, you rest your head on his chest again, your eyes fluttering closed. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, and you feel the warmth of his body seep into yours, grounding you in this moment.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

His fingers continue their gentle movements against your skin, and the steady beat of his heart becomes the rhythm that lulls you into sleep. The world outside the room feels miles away, and all that matters is the feeling of his arms around you, the peace of knowing that this—what you two have—is real.

You drift off to sleep, wrapped in the comfort of him, the quiet promises of the night hanging in the air. It’s the first time in a long time that you feel truly at peace, knowing that you’ve found something that isn’t fleeting, that isn’t just a momentary thrill. This is real. This is yours.

And as you fall asleep, the last thought in your mind is that you’re not just a fleeting part of Harry’s life anymore—you're something more. And for the first time, you believe it.

...

The next morning, the air feels lighter between you and Harry, a sense of calm settling over you both. The conversation from the night before has laid the foundation for something real, and while there’s still a part of you that’s nervous about what comes next, there’s no more uncertainty between you two. You know where you stand, and you know that this time, it’s different.

You’re sitting with Harry in the common area, trying to act like everything’s normal. You’re not hiding anymore, but the rest of the bands are still operating under the assumption that something’s been happening between you two for a while now. Their teasing comments have become more frequent, but there’s an undertone of curiosity that lingers.

Harry catches your eye across the room, his expression soft. He stands up, extending his hand toward you, and you know what’s coming. You take a breath, pushing aside any remaining nerves as you reach for his hand.

“Oi!” Louis calls out, noticing the two of you getting up. “Where are you two off to?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you closer, his arm resting around your shoulders as he walks you toward the others. The whole room falls silent as you approach, the energy shifting instantly.

Ashton’s eyes narrow on you both, but there’s a look of relief in them now, even if he’s still on edge. Niall raises an eyebrow, still unsure of what’s going on. Luke and Michael are watching carefully, their expressions unreadable but attentive. Calum glances between you and Harry, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips as he folds his arms. You glance at the floor, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as Harry gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ve got something to say,” Harry begins, his voice steady but there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s bracing for their reactions.

You take a deep breath, your nerves a little more palpable now that you’re in front of everyone. This feels like a big moment—like things are finally being put out in the open. You’ve kept this secret for too long, and now, there’s no turning back.

“We’re together,” you say softly, your voice clear but quiet. “For real this time. Not just... whatever it was before.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the reactions come fast.

“Oh, thank god,” Niall says, a grin spreading across his face. “You two have been dancing around this for ages. About time you made it official.”

“I knew it,” Louis adds with a smirk. “You two were always making eyes at each other. It was only a matter of time.”

Harry laughs, his hand tightening around yours. “Yeah, well... we had to figure things out first. But now we’re here.”

Ashton crosses his arms, his expression a little more guarded. He’s trying not to smile, but you can tell there’s still a hint of protectiveness in his eyes. He looks at Harry, then at you. “I just want you to know, Harry,” he says, his voice low, “if you hurt her again, I won’t hesitate. You’ve got one chance to make it right.”

Harry nods immediately, without hesitation. “I know, man. I won’t hurt her. I care about her too much for that.”

The tension eases a bit, but Zayn and Liam exchange looks, their expressions still weighing the situation. Zayn’s lips curl into a small smile, but he remains quiet. Liam gives you a warm look, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. It’s clear he’s not against this—it’s just new territory for everyone, and a lot has changed in the time since the last time they saw you and Harry together.

“So, we’re all good then?” Niall asks, a grin still on his face.

You nod, squeezing Harry’s hand tighter, your voice steady now. “Yeah. We’re good. We’re not hiding anymore.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from your chest, like everything is finally falling into place. It’s not perfect—it’s never going to be—but it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not running from it.

Ashton looks at Harry one last time, then nods, a little less tense than before. “Alright. I trust you.”

Harry’s face softens, a grateful look crossing his features. “Thanks, Ash.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and suddenly, it feels like things are less complicated. Everyone’s starting to come to terms with it, the unspoken questions beginning to fade away. For the first time, there’s no judgment, no tension. It’s just you and Harry, and the rest of the band, finally adjusting to the new normal.

Luke looks at the two of you, a knowing smirk on his face. “Alright, alright. So when’s the wedding?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Not that fast, mate.”

Michael laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, but at least it’s not a secret anymore.”

Calum chuckles, nudging Luke. “Maybe they’ll invite us to the wedding. They’ve been keeping us on the edge of our seats for far too long.”

The banter continues, but there’s a sense of ease in the air now. No more secrets, no more uncertainty. And as Harry pulls you close again, his hand resting on your shoulder, you feel like this is just the beginning. This time, it’s real. And you’re ready for whatever comes next.

#harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #frat boy harry #harry styles x reader #harry x you #frat boy harry x you #one direction fanfiction #5sos fanfic

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architect-2015 · 5 months ago

Text

ENGLISH LOVE AFFAIR | Leah Williamson

> masterlists

Estelle Reid is an Australian singer (mother is british, father is aussie) who has sky rocketed up to super stardom after opening for Taylor Swift in her Eras Tour. With her new found fame she became a recipient of invitations for a load of different events, one event she met a captivating english women that would change both her professional and personal life.

estellereid ✓

liked by taylorswift, harrystyles, vogue and 475,000 others

estellereid: the world, you have been perfect. thank you taylorswift for this opportunity to be able to express myself with my music at every corner of this planet, it’s been an amazing experience to open for the eras tour!

february 2nd 2024

taylorswift: i love you, thank you so much for sharing this with me!

estellereid: thank you so much for allowing me too, i love you miss swift!

user1: i’m so glad estelle is finally getting the recognition she deserves!

voguemagazine ✓

liked by voguefrance, estellereid, leahwilliamson and 689,000 others

voguemagazine: Miss Ried, the women you are. Estelle has arrived wearing Valentino for british vogue.

march 15th 2024

estelle.ried: thank you so much for having me! it was a dream come true!

user1: oh she ate that up

user2: mother!

user3: yes! even though she’s only 25 she’s still mother

leahwilliamson

liked by arsenalwfc, estelleried, britishvogue and 210,000 others

leahwiliamson: what a night!

march 15th 2024

estelleried: it was so good meeting you leah!

leahwilliamson: you too estelle!

user1: holy shit estelle and leah?! my worlds have just collided 🙂‍↕️

user2: she looks so good holy shit

estelleried: i know right! what a beauty. (liked by leahwilliamson)

user2: HELLO MISS ESTELLE I SEE YOU FLIRTING

elliestellie

📍london, england

liked by leahwilliamson, mamaried and 234 others

elliestellie: hello london, hello tour guide 🫡

may 10th 2024

leahwilliamson: hello tourist

mamaried: have fun girls!

elliestellie: thanks mama!

leahwilliamson: i’ll keep her safe caroline don’t worry (liked by elliestellie)

estelleried has posted to their story!

📍ibiza, spain

june 20th 2023

leahwilliamson posted to their story!

📍ibiza, spain

june 21st 2023

estellereid ✓

liked by leahwilliamson and 567,000 others

estelleried: fun in the sun ☀️

june 23rd 2023

leahwilliamson: who’s that sexy lady in the second slide???

estelleried: i think her name is leah or something, can’t be 100% sure tho

leahwilliamson: yeah think i’ve heard of her, she’s proper fit

estelleried: i agree

user1: HELLOO THE FLIRTING?!

user2: “i think they did it but i just can’t prove it 😔”

user3: i’d do it 🤷🏻‍♀️

i reached the image limit so i will be doing a part 2!

#woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso smau #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson fluff #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson smau

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twobluejeans · 2 years ago

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 7: revenge dress, part 6: reckless, part 5: relevancy, part 4: emo ponytail girl, part 3: dupeee, part 2:wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 7! bc why did this take me 2 days to make. da faq. a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, july 15

liked by harrystyles, austinbutler, and 26,955,959 others

yourinstagram and by the way, i’m going out tonight.

View all 357,728 comments

sabrinacapenter R U KIDDING ME???

badgalriri go bad bitch go bad bitch go

1dstyles.harry harry i see u lurking 👀

user1 she don’t know she need me yet

arianagrande MOTHER IS MOTHERING

barbie this barbie is THAT GIRL

leclerc_pascale Beautiful Girl!❤️

yourinstagram leclerc_pascale thank you ❤️

alexademie 😍😍

user2 they won’t love you like i would

omarapollo come home the kids miss u

y/nsdeadreputaion i know charles is crying in the corner rn

(landonorris liked this comment !)

danielricciardo May God bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took your mom to hospital to give birth to you

yourinstagram danielriccoardo i hate you 😭💀

danielricciardo yourinstagram Don’t lie, You know you love me

fernandoalonso_offical danielricciardo No. Stop it.

written by Ally

July 15,2023 AT 1:30PM

Y/n L/n is rarely seen walking the streets in public anymore, but that is changing following her recent breakup from longtime love Charles Leclerc.

The 12-time Grammy winner was spotted out and about in Rome just one day after her release of her new single, Reckless, which reflects on her past relationship with the formula 1 driver.

L/n was joined by celebs friends Zendaya, Tom Holland, Sabrina Carpenter, Bella Hadid, and Alexa Demie for a night out at Shari Vari Play House in Vía de' Nari, Italy.

The news of her breakup sent shockwaves on social media. Tweets and memes were made, with fans expressing their disbelief and grief

Rumors had already spread that Leclerc was seeing someone else the last few months of thosr relationship. L/n just made those rumors official last night as she delivered a tribute to Leclerc and his new girlfriend Australian Youtuber Lola Ransdell, sending the media to a frenzy.

The “Karma” hitmaker opted for a dress from Mônot’s SS22 collection, a black dress with cutouts across the chest and stomach, leaving little fabric between L/n’s collarbone and lower waist.

People on twitter are already calling this “Y/n L/n’s Revenge Dress Era” .

"Not @Y/nL/n wearing Y/n’s Version of 'the revenge dress'," one fan posted.

The ultimate revenge dress is, of course, the off-the-shoulder black Christina Stambolian dress that Princess Diana wore while her former husband then-Prince Charles was admitting to an affair with current Queen Consort Camilla.

Diana, Princess of Wales attends the Vanity Fair party at the Serpentine Gallery on November 20, 1994 Anwar Hussein

L/n kicked off her sold-out Eras Tour on March 17, and eagle-eyed fans noticed that Leclerc had been absent from her shows.

In case you're unfamiliar with the lore of YourShipName (portmanteau and couple name of L/n and Leclerc), you probably don't understand the distress caused by the news. For most, Leclerc is not even a household name, but for YourFandomsName, he's the titular Lover.

via @yourinstagram in a now deleted instagram post

The Midnights singer and f1 driver started dating in 2016. Fans speculate they met at the 2016 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix based on the lyrics of Reputation cut "Dress": "Flashback to when you met me / Your buzzcut and my hair bleached." Because, you guessed it, Leclerc sported a buzzcut and L/n’s hair was bleached.

At a secret session for Reputation, Leclerc reportedly told fans that the single "Gorgeous" was about her "angel boyfriend of one year." Other tracks off of Reputation like “Delicate," "Call It What You Want," and "King Of My Heart" are also thought to be about Leclerc.

Her next album, Lover, is also understood to be about Leclerc with songs like "Paper Rings," "Cornelia Street," "Daylight," and the titular "Lover."

During quarantine the couple started collaborating creatively. Leclerc surpassed his muse status and co-wrote Folklore tracks "Exile" and "Betty,"

Evermore songs "Champagne Problems" and "Coney Island, and most recently, "Sweet Nothing" off Midnights. Other tracks on her most recent three albums canonically about Leclerc include: "Invisible String" and "Peace."

While they opted to remain very private about their romance, the couple was hit with a slew of engagement rumors throughout the course of their ill-fated romance.

"I'm aware people want to know about that side of things," Leclerc told GQ in 2018. "I think we have been successfully very private and that has now sunk in for people."

L/n briefly touched on the privacy aspect of their relationship in her 2020 documentary, "Miss Americana."

"We decided together we wanted our relationship to be private," she said. "Even though [my public image in 2016] was really horrible, I was happy."

"But I wasn't happy in the way I was trained to be happy. It was happiness without anyone else's input. We were just... happy," the singer added.

The "Lavender Haze" songstress' exes famously include Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert Pattinson, Fabian Frankel, Ben Barnes, Harry Styles, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• From Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc to Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello, Here are all the Celebirty breakups of 2023…So far

• Leonardo DiCaprio, Gigi Hadid Are 'Definitely Dating' (Exclusive Source)

• Carlos Sainz Shares his thoughts on YourShipName’s Breakup

TWITTER, july 15

INSTAGRAM, july 15

liked by kendalljenner, haileybieber, and 2,674,123 others

lolaaransdell_ couldn’t be bothered

View all 32,177 comments

user5 someone pls take away her phone i’m so serious

y/nsleclerc god has lots of favorites🥰💞🧚🏽you’re not one of them🥺💘💘

haileybieber the hottest ❤️❤️

badgerdannyricc you hit different 😍when you’re not on my screen 🧚‍♀️💞✨

cillianmurphyfineaf u killed this 💞🦋!🧚🏽now do the same for urself🙈🥰⚡️

charles16_leclerc this is just embarrassing stop

auzziericciardo i don’t like you but ur blush and highlight looks really good

norissxricciardo my daughter said she loved your videos! 😩💗✨ so i put her up for adoption 😽☁️🌺

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 16

yourinstagram 4h

viewed by michaelbjordan, lilyrose_depp, and 2,042,828 others

INSTAGRAM, july 16

liked by landonorris, jacobelordi, and 8,667,214 others

yourinstagram it feels like a perfect night to dress up like hipsters & make fun of our exes.

View all 102,421 comments

cinnamongirldelrey oh this is iconic.

queensel the reunion we needed

argentinastyles stop i love selena and y/n together

parisy/n THE CAPTION LMFAOAKSKHDH

charlottesiine Angel sisters for life!!!

yourinstagram charlottesiine my queen i love you!

jarofheartsy/n wait i’m confused who’s the girl on the last pic?

ciney/n jarofheartsy/n charlotte sine, charles’s ex gf 💀

TWITTER, july 16

ally’s radio 📻: DON’T U LOVE WHEN WOMEN. guys im stuck on who to choose for y/n’s next boo. like. so stuck. THIS CAN GO LIKE FOUR WAYS. WE HAVE FOUR OPTIONS AND I KINDA WANNA LET U GUYS PICK BUT ALSO NEED TO KEEP YALL IN SUSPENSE SO LIKE😭 SHARE WITH ME UR THOUGHTS PLS. also, i think i might start a danny ric fanfic next bc that’s bbg.

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx @lilsiz @ohthemisssery @leclerclvr @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @shessthunderstoms @cool-ultra-nerd @ncentic @playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19

2K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 2 years ago

Text

The problem with judging people for their sins is that the internet makes it exceedingly easy to invent sins. In February, Buzzfeed News reported on a man filmed by a passing TikTokker, who then uploaded the footage with text suggesting he’d lied to her to get out of a date. That was false—he’d never met her—but it didn’t stop people from ridiculing him as the video racked up over a million views.

Similarly, last year, an Australian woman objected to being made the star of a stunt in which a TikTokker asked her to hold a bouquet, strolled off, and then congratulated himself on performing a random act of kindness. Sixty million hits later, his viewers were praising him for brightening the day of a woman they judged to be old, lonely, and sad. But she objected to that characterization and declared the whole affair “dehumanizing.” She hadn’t asked to have her day interrupted, let alone be thrust into a global spotlight.

And then there are those incapable of even grasping the situation. In 2022, a TikTok channel was called out for surreptitiously filming the homeless with drones. Loved ones with dementia are put on TikTok to be infantilized or have their worst moments gawked at. Parents transform their children into viral stars. Sometimes, those children grow up and call them out for warping their youth.

When people tell us it was harrowing and wrong to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight, we nod and agree. But those responsible typically offer only half-hearted apologies or remain unrepentant, while their millions of views discourage reflection. Often, moral scolding is implicit in the video and explicit in the comments: It is wrong to be homeless. It is gross to be ill. It is pathetic to be unhappy.

To be sure, crass and hateful public figures are worthy of ridicule. And we’ve been using the internet to judge strangers for as long as we’ve had the internet. But the common trait shared by much of the most obnoxious content today is that someone chose to elevate a stranger for no reason beyond their own gratification, attracting attention at a scale unimaginable in the days of relics like Hot or Not and People of Wal-Mart.

At best, these are misguided attempts to juice the poster’s social media presence. At worst, they are pointless cruelty. That cruelty can be addictive, but we can and must resist the urge to gawk at strangers against their will. It should, in fact, be considered rude, insulting, and wrong to have uploaded a stranger against their will. We would not go out into the streets and stir up a mob against a random person. Why are we so comfortable with doing it online?

Much of what we post online is innocent and will remain so. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the average number of Instagram followers, according to one estimate, is just 150. You likely use these platforms to follow celebrities and brands, and to interact with friends and family. These are, for most users, insular communities. Vacation photos with friends or a family portrait at Christmas are unlikely to attract trolls and creeps, and even if they do, they are clearly posted in good faith.

But some platforms, like TikTok and Twitter, are more exposed to the vagaries and cruelties of the wider world. Anything you post on them can wind up in the feed of people who don't follow you. Therefore, anyone can become the day’s punching bag. Does your relative really understand what could happen if you put your interaction with them on TikTok?

Maybe you know better than to post Grandpa on Twitter without thinking it through. We know whether our friends and family like attention and whether they understand social media ecosystems, and with this knowledge we are capable of making informed decisions as to whether and on what platforms we should post them. We do not have the same knowledge of strangers. That can be a reason to not post them, but it can also be an excuse to post them without thinking.

If it came out that an influencer uploaded an interaction with a stranger to a private Facebook page or Discord server solely so their closest friends and family could pick them apart, it would rightly be considered misanthropic. And yet uploading a stranger so millions can mock and over-analyze them is just the business of content. That business needs to change.

It’s exceedingly unlikely we’ll ever eliminate jackassery from the internet, but a social media mishap involving a friend or family member can be resolved with communication.

It is harder for a complete stranger to succeed in that endeavor, especially when “Look at this weirdo I found, please gape at them” is the text or subtext of so many videos and posts by accounts that thrive on content starring the unwilling. Such content must become anathema. Particular thought must be taken before posting an interaction with a stranger, and the consent of a stranger to be posted at all is necessary to retain an internet that is even remotely civil. If someone does post a stranger without their consent, they should be shunned, not rewarded with the attention they crave.

The vast majority of disputes with unruly neighbors are solved by talking to them. Ideally, the law only gets involved when lines of communication break down. The same can be true of digital disputes.

We have privacy laws. If I were to post your name, address, and phone number, you would have legal recourse. And yet the same is not true for your image. Today, at least, you surrender your right to privacy by stepping into public. But outdated privacy laws are catching up to the abuses of government and tech, and the issues raised by social media virality could be next.

Still, a blanket law against posting strangers without their consent would be draconian and unworkable. There are too many variables, too many circumstances, and simply too many cases. However, whole generations who have been online since birth—sometimes unwillingly—could grow up to be more sensitive to the downsides of posting without permission, prompting a normative shift.

More specific laws are already evolving to handle some scenarios raised by nonconsensual virality, specifically as it applies to children. Irina Raicu of Santa Clara University’s Internet Ethics Program points out that a recent French law entitles child influencers to demand that platforms scrub all trace of them once they turn 16. The YouTube career their parents create for them—or force on them—need not be what defines them as adults. The United States is considering a similar law; a woman who testified to a House committee said the details of her first period were turned into content.

Another law being considered in France would make parents responsible for their children’s privacy rights. Le Monde cites, as an example of fame-seeking behavior that France is hoping to discourage, TikTokkers scaring their children by pretending to call the police on them, and an Instagrammer who smeared chocolate on her 4-year-old and convinced them they were covered in feces. We will eventually wonder how parents were able to get away with this at all.

So those who cannot consent are starting to be protected. But what about those who could consent, but don’t? And what if, as some unwillingly viral subjects have found, reaching out and asking for posts to be removed is met with silence or rejection?

In reality we already practice social media consent; it is not unusual to ask a friend if they’re alright with having a picture posted to Instagram, even though the face they make as they try to cram an unusually large sandwich into their mouth is not a flattering one. And yet we continually fail to extend this courtesy to strangers, either because we think nothing of it or because it is our job to go viral at all costs.

Some of this, as Raicu points out, can be blamed on the platforms we use, which encourage hair triggers. “There are ways in which the design choices behind many websites make it harder for all of us to think about consent,” Raicu wrote in an email. She points to the sheer ease of posting and the fact that norms around social media consent have not solidified. But she notes that platforms could “introduce some friction” in the form of, essentially, reminders that other people are human before you hit Post.

Future platforms could work to curtail shaming, either out of moral compulsion or legal necessity. Much as you can report harassment to social media platforms, posts that have elevated you to infamy against your will should be fair targets.

Lines have been drawn before. YouTube banned dangerous pranks and challenges after people were hurt and complaints mounted. TikTok is trying to tweak its algorithm in response to growing concerns that young users are awash in content encouraging suicide and incel ideology. Content made from those unable or unwilling to consent is a broad category that cannot be wiped out with algorithmic tweaks, but the damage is still happening, and we have the power to collectively declare that some forms of content are unacceptable and must no longer be tolerated.

Perhaps, given the increasing universality of social media usage—83 percent of Gen Z uses TikTok—platform-embedded tools could establish consent. Before posting a video of someone, an influencer could ask their username and send them a simple, stock contract granting them permission to post. Again, this need not apply to every random photo of friends. It could be optional, or it might apply only when an account reaches a certain threshold of followers. But a lack of permission could give a user cause when they cite unwanted virality and negative attention when asking for a post to be removed.

But most of the work will fall to people. It's difficult enough to remember that the man being a bit rude in the grocery store line is a fallible human being with hopes and dreams; it can be almost impossible to remind yourself of that when viewing a contextless clip of someone halfway across the hemisphere. The internet is capable of connecting us to tremendous numbers of people, even as it makes us forget that they are human like us.

An influencer comfortable with filming themselves for thousands of viewers should be comfortable with approaching a stranger and saying, “Would you mind appearing in a video I’m making? I’m going to post it on this platform, and I have this many followers. Take a minute to check me out.” Some already do, and surely there are people who would be happy to receive a free bouquet in exchange for appearing in a TikTokker’s silly stunt. But a no should be taken as a no, just as it should in any other scenario involving consent.

It’s all too easy to skip this step today. People who speak out when they feel harmed by what an influencer did with their image receive only a tiny fraction of the attention that the original posts featuring them got. But when an influencer is repeatedly called out for exploiting strangers—or when their exploitation is obvious, such as when they prey on the homeless—they should be frozen out of the social media ecosystem, not rewarded with attention and profit.

In the future, how will we be able to see such casual cruelty as anything but unethical? Maybe stories of regret are a sign of what’s to come. Brianna Wu, one of the victims of GamerGate, says she has fielded over 100 apologies, often from people who were at their lowest and saw her as an easy outlet for their emotions. But we generally don’t take our frustrations out on people on the street; understanding that people deserve to be protected from unsolicited online fame and malice is the next logical step.

We no longer parade people through villages on a cart or lock them in pillories in the town square to shame them, as was done in centuries past. We did not stop enforcing laws and norms, but we recognized that humiliation and ostracization are harsh, counterproductive tools. Eventually, we will make that realization about the strangers we parade across the internet.

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biahouse · 1 year ago

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Waiting for your love, Robert Chase x Reader

When House's first team disbanded entirely, you were hired to help the doctor with the paperwork. After a few years you finally meet the famous Robert Chase, unfortunately not on the best terms.

When you started working with the infamous Doctor House, you didn't know that your life would change overnight.

He was a peculiar man, not to say crazy, but he was an excellent doctor and over time you got used to the man's crazy mind. You knew the names of the doctors who were part of House's infamous first team.

Eric Forman. The man who had returned to the team a few months after leaving and who you had the pleasure of calling your friend.

Alison Cameron. Certainly one of the kindest and bravest women in the world, according to Erick's far from impartial opinions and some subtle comments from House.

And Robert Chase. You had never met the man at any point. It seemed like the universe never put you in the same room together, every time House needed him for a case, somehow you weren't working at the time. But it wasn't uncommon to hear House talking about Chase.

Out of all three of the original doctors, you were pretty sure Chase was the mayor of Gregory.

When House went to a psychiatric clinic because of his Vicodin addiction, you were forced to look for a new job with great reluctance.

You had gotten used to that crazy life in the hospital. Managing documents that House refused to do, the nights out with Thirteen, the jokes in the office, the jokes with Taub.

So the moment Cuddy said House would be returning to the hospital, you didn't think twice about returning to your old position.

Things had changed. It was clear. House no longer wanted to be part of the diagnostics team and now Foreman was the head of the unit.

You tried to convince House to return to the department, and you ate a lot during that time, as the man was committed to his short culinary career. At the end of it all, House came back.

He hated work, but he hated being without it even more. But everything was different once again.

Taub resigned. Foreman fired Thirteen. And now Cameron and Chase were back on the team.

You clearly remembered the moment you were sitting next to House helping him with the patient's medical file and the two doctors entered the room.

You jumped up, observing the two blondes in the room. It was a weird performance and you hated yourself forever.

Meeting Alisson was an honor for you. I knew what an incredible doctor she was. But she felt horrible as soon as she looked at her husband and saw the most perfect man on earth.

Chase was beautiful.

You blushed when you shook his hand and even more so when he greeted you with his Australian accent.

During the entire affair, which took more out of you than anyone else because of all the legal protocols, you somehow ended up becoming very good friends with the MARRIED man (you had to remember) who you had developed a crush on since the first time House described it.

When Dibala passed away, Chase secretly admitted to you that it was his fault. Even though he didn't know you, Chase trusted you more than his own wife.

And that was wrong, but it gave you hope that you knew you shouldn't have. Soon it became the secret between you and Foreman later on.

When it became too much to lie to Cameron, Chase would come to you. So you chatted like old friends at a bar and regularly played bowling to relieve the stress of the secret.

When he finally told Alisson, their friendship didn't change. You were still a confidant to him.

When things in their marriage got complicated, you supported him.

But that was it for him. A friend. A support. And for you it was everything. If you had seen the signs back then things might have been different.

•••

The night Cameron went to the hospital to get Chase to sign the divorce agreement was when everything changed.

Chase desperately wanted to talk to his ex-wife about what went wrong between them, but Cameron was adamant and just made him sign the papers.

He was a wreck and immediately ran to you.

When the entire hospital went into lockdown due to a missing baby, you and Chase got together in House's office and got drunk.

He complained about everything and told you about everything. And you listened carefully. You blamed the alcohol, but somehow you knew you were sober enough not to get into that situation.

That was the first night you slept with Chase.

•••

_ It became a habit.

Almost every night was spent in your apartment.

Chase's hands running all over your body.

His mouth on yours.

His teasing voice in your ear.

The bed hitting the wall.

A vicious habit that you loved more than anything.

It was even funny when you watched him sleep next to you and remember that his relationship with Cameron had started like that, a relationship of benefit.

You wondered if you could be dumber than that. Pretending to sleep every time he left your apartment in the middle of the night. And crying softly hoping that at least once he would stay.

But it was just that, sex.

You wouldn't pressure him, not after all. You couldn't. But I couldn't leave that either.

You preferred just the pleasure you could feel than begging for love you knew you couldn't receive from him.

It was destructive.

But you just couldn't help but love Robert Chase and hope that at some point he would love you back.

#dr house #house md #james wilson #robert chase #robert chase x reader #gregory house

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k1ng0k · 4 months ago

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Australasia AU comeback

AU Lore:

China planned to declare war against Western countries unless Oceania is seized by Asia, and becomes part of the region. In an attempt to resolve the issue, America and the UK advised Australia to surrender to China but Australia refused. A war happens between China and Australia. Obviously Oceania countries and other allies provide support for Australia. However, China unexpectedly attacks NZ via bombing him resulting in his near death experience. With the promise of chivalry from America, UK and Japan on the way, only Japan arrived. After being "abandoned" by who Australia thought was somewhat their family, China took the chance to strike a deal with him. Becoming his partner and seizing the Oceania in exchange for bringing NZ back to life. Sadly, Australia agrees and NZ recovers with the support of China’s aid. This leads to the geopolitical divide between Oceania, Europe and Asia. In order to protect the Oceania from further invasion, Australia comes into an agreement with China and they join ties. Leading to the unity of Oceania and Asia. As a result of this, Australia and China have a successor known as Jīnsèa, which takes over the eastern coastline of Australia. However, Australia has other children not known to China for future plans of breaking the agreement.

China & Australia’s relationship becomes the opposite from how they were before the war. China has become more content, relaxed and considerate knowing his region is secure alongside the delusion he believes he knows best. Australia has become older, grumpier and more vigilant. China’s sudden calm demeanour is off-putting to Australia as China acts so laidback and gentle. China treats Australia and the Oceania like family, trying to shower them with gifts and aid since he wants a closer relations with the region. To China, it feels natural but for everyone else it’s awkward and weird.

Jīnsèa is the child of Australia and China. Jīnsèa is only favoured by China but not Australia, which is who Jīnsèa wants to be with the most. As the "love" child and unity between China and Australia, Jīnsèa is a tropical convergence connecting Queensland and New South Wales coastlines into one country. With Australia already having so much diversity, he's predominantly an Asian country and heavily influenced by Chinese culture, and cuisine. Regardless, his personality and behaviour is more similar to Australia.

Australia’s other children are held more favourably than Jīnsèa. His daughter, Riosalia, who was made with Brazil & his younger son, Subastéri, who was made with Antarctica. China doesn't know about the affairs Australia had with Brazil & Antarctica, but Jīnsèa finds out about Subastéri (not knowing they’re brothers). Subastéri is the convergence of Australian and New Zealander Antarctic territories, with a collection of isolated cities throughout. Being born in the most isolated region/ country, Subastéri is still a developing country with limited resources (provided by Australia). To get on good terms with Australia, Jīnsèa keeps Subastéri’s existence a secret from China but there's rivalry between Jīnsèa and Subastéri.

#kingok art #countryhumans #ch #countryhumans australia #countryhumans new zealand #countryhumans china #countryhumans Taiwan #countryhumans au #australasia au

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 month ago

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tuesday again 3/4/2025

my desktop has Kicked It™️🫠 so this is shorter and worse bc it comes from my ailing phone. the tuesdaypost is generally a multi-tab multi-window affair and i completely forgot about the ten-image limit on mobile

listening

i bought this cd months and months ago to fill out the 8 items for $1 sale at my favorite religious thrift shop with the worst vibes, bc i saw the name and thought “oh i like the guy”. i was in fact thinking of nick cave. i would describe this as crunchier than nick cave. also janglier. my most deeply held american trait is that i am a sucker for a song about a road trip.

reading

i struck out with Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe bc it made me desperately, desperately miss my maternal grandmother and we simply don’t have time for extra emotion this week.

bad news from the zone tumbleweeds i hated this one too. this is a fourth (!) 1997 printing of the 1992 novel by Claire McNab, Under the Southern Cross. 180p, it’s the same physical quality as all the other Naiad Press softcovers. i did not look up anything about Claire bc copying and pasting shit on my phone is horrendous: however, the frontispiece notes that she lives in LA “for love” and misses Australia. the draw and strong point of this book are the vivid and immersive descriptions of various tourist points down under by someone who really loves the country. it’s an effective travelogue!

The vast, forbidding Australian Outback… the grandeur of Ayers Rock… legendary Alice Springs… the Great Barrier Reef… the primal beauty of Cape Tribulation…

Two women, from different continents, with different values, collide with spectacular results… UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS.

American Lee Paynter has built her small travel agency into an international tour company. Brash, confident, openly lesbian, her great love is her business. Women? They’re to enjoy and let go.

Alexandra Findlay is pursuing a career in Australian tourism with quiet focus and determination, convinced that her career is the best she can hope for in her arid, closeted emotional existence.

Now Alex has been assigned to accompany Lee on the American woman’s visit Down Under, to win Lee’s company over to Australian tourism. Suddenly Alex’s quiet life explodes… And Lee is challenged by a woman unlike any she has ever known.

there were a lot of components i did not enjoy about this book, but the actual construction and hitting what felt like what the next emotional beat in a relationship Should be was there. nobody said anything outlandish and nobody’s crotches were engorged. the first lesbian romance in this project ive read in first person.

i find it extremely funny when someone is in a gorgeous location and having a fucking miserable time. just seething in competitive rage. alex at one point states that her family will never forgive her if she comes out and lee goes “oh? you’re super close with them?” and alex has to go “😠 no 😠”. their relationship is at its best when lee is like “you know you don’t have to live like this?” and kind of mentally drop-kicks alex into enjoying herself. unfortunately these moments are few and far between.

i mostly hated this book bc i hated alex, but it was sort of fun (though not really what i personally read romances for) watching in horrified fascination for 180 pages as she sort of train-wrecked her way through the book. i HATE this kind of sanctimonious unpleasant gay. someone who is extremely pushy about your boundaries (lee doesn’t want anything serious and says so from hour one) but doesn't want to do any work at all on her own boundaries or emotional growth (in only one example, pitches a fucking fit at the airport after lee has been very firm about how she loves to fuck and had a great time with alex but doesn’t want anything serious). this is cutting a little too close to home bc this is nearly all baby (and a lot of grown/post college) western mass queers. i had enough of that in real life and enough roommates like that. i also don't typically enjoy the divorced woman discovering her latent lesbianism storyline. the coming out storyline deserves its own graf.

this book does a good job of portraying alex as believably prickly for her own reasons, and not just out of contrariness or to fit a trope. she was very badly scared by watching her lover get fired and her almost fired at her post divorce job! that makes sense! i wish the arguments for and against coming out that she comes up with for herself rang less true today! however, she doesn’t come out in the book as a big emotional gesture to join lee in scary freedom, she comes out to stop her boss hitting on her and to prevent her coworker from blackmailing her. her coming out is such a significant point of tension and happens with such a fizzle! I think I would be giving the book too much credit to agree and say that sometimes coming out isn't a big deal and is kind of a fizzle, be she is constantly thinking about how her first lover was fired for being a lesbian. it can happen to you!!!

there is a very contrived, unnatural ending that requires lee to betray all her most deeply held relationship beliefs/make a lot of bad decisions and a deus ex concussion for alex. not that i expect every book to be a Victorian morality fable, but i didn’t want her to have a happy ending that felt so unearned. I didn’t want her to be rewarded for being such a pushy bitch while doing zero work on herself!

at least the sex scenes were some of the less awful ones ive read in this project

watching

HOUSTON MENTIONED

youtube

playing

look at my beautiful little bitches

making

i am a firm believer that anything worth knitting is worth knitting well and as heirloom quality as you can make it, bc it takes the same amount of time to knit something in garbage single ply that will fall apart in one wash as it does to knit something in yarn that’s actually good. however, sometimes you need to produce an acrylic baby blanket bc a baby’s one job (as i have previously stated in this series) is to produce fluids and crumbs, and you love their parents and want to make their lives easier without adding a wool blanket to the mix.

this baby blanket is completed, only two years late. i did not measure this or even really unscrumple it before throwing it directly in the warsh. nineteen repeats across and twelve up of the tumbling blocks baby blanket, applied icord edging on the short edges which took six! total! hours! to apply. i think this yarn is bernat softee in mint? some sort of oil byproduct. phil is on my lap i cant find the band to check. i got very tired of this one and its 200 stitches across and am glad to see it out the door and to the tender graces of the toddler recipient. next on the docket is some socks for a grown person. i hope i still remember how to make socks.

#Tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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im back to request another x male reader hehe🤭a plot inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd, what do ya think?

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰/𝐥𝐧𝟒 & 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: lando has many regrets, the most painful one being the fact that he encouraged you to date oscar. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: angst. beta read. emotional infidelity. implied future possible cheating? established relationship w/oscar piastri. unhappy ending. but also, open ending (sick n twisted). 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris & male!reader | oscar piastri x male!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: moth to a flame • the weeknd & swedish house mafia

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i HATE writing cheat*ng fics, like the idea genuinely makes me sick to my stomach–i never understood why someone would cheat when they can literally just break up 😐, it pisses me off. it’s purely greedy behavior, manipulative, and disrespectful as fuck. but honestly an emotional affair would borderline break my heart more than a physical affair—like you love somebody else more than me??? and you’re not even having sex with them, you just have more emotional intimacy with them??? i fr would shatter into pieces—ANYWAYS: wikipedia was my source for the timeline, so if doesn’t canonically make sense…it is what it is :p sorry for hurting lando, i didn’t want to 😔i think this is my first true angst fic ever? enjoy, loves !!!

thank you to @biancathecool for beta-reading this fic for me !!

want to be added to my taglist? want to submit a request? send me an ask!

check out my table of contents for all of my works!

lando wishes he never invited you to the silverstone grand prix in 2022. he knows you would’ve been insulted if he didn’t; you’ve been his best friend since the two of you were in diapers, and you’ve avidly supported him during each race. so, bringing you along to his home race was a given. however, after his meeting with the team post fp1, he caught you sneaking back into his driver’s room with heart-eyes, flushed cheeks, and a new number saved in your phone. it was the first time you met oscar piastri, who at the time was a reserve driver for alpine. when lando teased you for details, you downplayed the interaction, but you also asked him if it was fine if you got to know the australian rookie. he snorted, you didn’t need his permission to associate with other drivers.

four months later at the the circuit of the americas, you told lando you were dating oscar.

he’s thankful that you waited until after the race to tell him because he would’ve shunted into the barriers. lando’s heard of how people struggle to get over someone they’ve dated and fell in love with—but how does he recover from getting over someone he’s never allowed himself to fall in love with?

lando feigned happiness for you, his shocked laughter passing for joy. he ushered you to sneak into oscar’s room to “make the most of the time you had together,” while he went out to celebrate max’s pole and his p6. the brit did congratulate his friend, and then for a man who claims to not like alcohol, he proceeded to get wasted. he was a mess, enough that he had to be escorted back to the hotel by daniel and carlos—as if being babysat by one of them wasn’t embarrassing enough. he broke down, sobbing into the spaniard’s shoulder about his missed chance, and was eventually soothed to sleep by daniel awkwardly rubbing his back.

he knew it would be difficult to pretend that he wasn’t distraught at your new relationship. he’s had you to himself his whole life; and now he has to see you love another man. when oscar joined mclaren for the 2023 season, sure, he first-handedly witnessed how well the rookie driver treated you. good morning and good night texts aren’t forgotten even with ever changing time zones, you’re spoiled with gifts, lando catches how oscar’s phone has three alternate home screens with photos of you, oscar’s car passenger seat is adjusted to you, he has a list of things you like written in his notes app, he has your coffee order memorized. you’re wearing oscar’s mclaren merch instead of his, you stay on the australian’s side of the garage and calm his nerves instead, you game with lando half as much as you usually did and go out on dates with oscar instead, the collection of stuff that you’ve forgotten in lando’s flat decreases and he spots your stuff in oscar’s flat when he came over to hangout with you two one day. you’re rarely in your own flat, lando has to call or text you to find out what you’re doing instead of just randomly appearing like he usually does, you practically live with oscar when he’s back home, and it becomes very clear to lando that he’s your best friend, not your boyfriend. something else becomes clear to lando. while you may be infatuated with oscar, you’re still his other half.

your phone battery may die during several hour long facetime calls with oscar, but does he know that when you sleep in your own bed, that you call lando and plug in your phone so it charges while you fall asleep to the sound of his voice?

the passcode to your phone may be oscar’s birthday, but does he know that you have lando listed as your emergency contact?

you never order any seafood dishes on dates with oscar, but does he know that’s muscle memory from years of knowing lando gags at the smell?

oscar kisses the scar you have on the knuckles of your right hand, but does he know that’s from when you broke your hand punching a group of older boys who were bullying lando after he beat them in a kart race?

does he know that lando was your first kiss?

it all comes to a head in qatar. oscar won the sprint race, lando hasn’t won anything in the five years he’s been in formula one. you were late to the party the team is throwing for oscar because you were cradling lando as he sobs into your chest. max won the grand prix, and lando was the first loser to cross the finish line; as usual.

at two in the morning, there was a knock on his hotel room door. lando knew it was you from the cadence. you were dressed for bed, clothes wrinkled, voice deep and throaty from sleep, hair mussed to one side, and pillow lines were indented on your cheek. you asked him if he wanted to talk, that you noticed he was off this whole weekend. all lando could think about is the fact that you woke up in the middle of the night, slipped out of the bed you shared with oscar, and continued to wander to lando’s room half-asleep because you were worried about him. waiting until the morning didn’t cross your mind. lando’s heart ached—he shouldn’t be in love with you, he can’t be.

he let you in anyways, how was he supposed to turn you away? you were blinking at him with sleepy eyes, swollen cheeks, pouted lips—he’s only a man. you made yourself comfortable on top of his bed, and lando stared before he shrugged and laid down next to you; this is fine, this is a completely normal thing the two of you have been doing for years. just not while you have a boyfriend, or while he’s suddenly been accepting his feelings for you.

you didn’t say a word, and kept your eyes shut (you’re used to lando, he’ll speak when he wants to or he’ll be fine with your presence next to him while he sorts out his thoughts). you almost fell asleep before lando’s torrent of words startled you into awareness.

he was tripping over his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth. self-deprecating and over critical views fell from his lips—the way they sounded clued you into everything you already knew. the brunet had been thinking this for a while, the phrases sounding too practiced to be sudden realizations. the remaining whisper of sleep was vaporized from your mind at lando’s harsh evaluation of the weekend and his entire career.

you rushed to sit upright and bodily forced lando to turn and face you; your hands warmly blanketed the sides of his face and applied enough pressure for his words to become unintelligible before they tapered off. he knew that you were disagreeing with his monologue from the way your brows were furrowed and how your eyes were alight with anger. the air between you vibrated with the force of your speech, and lando knew you were probably ranting about the only reason he isn’t world champion is because of his car, not his self-perceived lack of skill.

the sharp edge of your jawline was far more interesting to brit—the length of your fanned out eyelashes, the shape of your lips shifting as they formed syllables, the strength coiled beneath the skin of your hands, the broad spread of your chest—lando’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips distractedly and the sound of your voice returned to his ears.

“…you better understand me, okay?” is all that he caught. the senior mclaren driver (how weird), hummed half-heartedly in agreement. his stare tunneled to the part of your lips, and he knew his appreciation was discovered by the audible catch of breath in your throat.

it was like all the air was sucked out of the room, a perfect vacuum created. lando hesitated, before he redirected his gaze to meet yours, and he was sure what he saw was more catastrophic than anything he could’ve imagined. your eyes were locked on his lips, as well. the brunet can’t tell how much time passed by, the two of you were busy taking turns admiring the idea of a kiss. both of you continued to stare; eyes flickering across faces, tongues wetting lips, breath quickening in anticipation, and bodies leaning closer to each other steadily. when lando felt your exhales ghost faintly over his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut and he shivered slightly, a sense of satisfaction flooded his brain; you were going to kiss him—and then he heard you gasp.

lando’s eyes flew open to see you scrambling off the bed, a horrified look painted on your face as you stared at him.

“this never happened,” you started, running an anxious, guilt-ridden hand through your hair, “and it will never happen again.”

it felt like his world was crashing down, he was frozen in shock. you moved to rush by him and leave the room, and he finally defrosted, and caught you by the arm.

you turned around furiously, tears gathering in your eyes as you forced your arm out of his grasp, a scathing, “let go of me,” leaving your mouth.

lando’s hands were shaking, mouth wobbling as he held back his own tears, and he rambled, “you're just going to forget what happened? were never going to talk about that? you’re not going to tell oscar?”

“NO!” you screamed, “no—i won’t tell oscar. and, i don’t have to tell him anything, because nothing actually happened. it was a mistake.”

he heard his heart shatter, and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore. lando angrily brushed them away as they fell, knowing his face was embarrassingly red with anguish, and his insides burned at the look of pity and longing mixed in your gaze.

“so, you’re just going to pretend that you don’t have feelings for me,” lando questioned disbelievingly, “like i don’t know you better than oscar ever could? you’re just going to forget this ever happened and run back to bed with oscar, and continue to have him believe that everything is fine?”

the air was still for a minute, your shared breaths the only audible noise in the room.

“you’re only going to hurt him more if you act like everything’s okay,” lando whispered, “he doesn’t deserve that.”

your first tear of the night fell, your arms wrapped around your torso to hold yourself, trying to find any glimpse of protection and comfort you could. “oscar’s good to me…he treats me well, perfectly, even. he’s sweet, i really like him a lot.”

“you ‘like him a lot,’” lando repeated, staring into your eyes desperately, “but, you love me.”

the flame of rage and distress reignited in your eyes, “lando—i loved you for years. and, not once have i ever tried to make a move on you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. i didn’t even know you liked men until almost three fucking years ago! and, you still never gave me any sign that you were romantically interested in me. you had plenty of time and chances to date me, and you only realized that you wanted me when you lost me to oscar.”

“that’s not true,” lando murmured, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

lando watched the fury falter in your expression, and saw the conflict dance in your gaze. your stare softened, and you stepped forward to hold his face in your hands.

“i can’t do this. not to oscar—he doesn’t deserve it. i can’t break up with him.” you said in a muted tone, “we shouldn’t be together.”

the brunet whimpered, eyes watering again. his large hands came up to hold yours against his cheeks, nuzzling into the warmth of your palm. you sighed brokenly, and leaned forward to press kiss on lando’s forehead. a muffled sob vibrated through lando’s chest, and you blinked rapidly to avoid crying again. your thumb swiped under lando’s eyes, brushing away his fresh tears, and you gently swept another kiss along his cheekbone.

lando cries messily when you pull away, and can only hold himself as you leave his room without glancing backwards at him. when the door shuts, lando falls to the ground, leaning back against the bed as he sobs into his hands. he understands what you said, but he can’t help but yearn for more. his chest aches painfully, and he doesn’t know if he can give you the time you need—the distance you need. lando will pretend to be okay, he’s good at that. he’ll let you be for as long as he can manage, but he’s reassured at the knowledge that you’re in love with him.

eventually, the two of you won’t be able to fight the pull of what you really need—you’re moths to each other's flames.

taglist: @saintslewis@cherry2stemss@lorarriri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecooll@barnestaticc @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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bartxnhood · 2 years ago

Text

wanna be yours | l.h

luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke had his eyes on you from the moment you met him so, it killed him when you couldn’t take the hint that he was in love with you.

warnings: two oblivious people in love, my bad writing, mentions of a lot of drinking

a/n: someone asked for jealous and protective luke ??? say no more. feedback is appreciated ! ALSO didn’t exactly turn out how i originally thought but it’s a good start !! enjoy !!

requests open

not proofread

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there is a scene in a movie where the lead character and the love interest lock eyes.

they lose sight of everything around them, leaving just each other in focus. you never liked seeing those kinds of movies, thought it was cliche, and never believed in love at first sight. if you're being honest, it was overdone, unrealistic, and plain annoying.

but, it was fate that it would fall on you.

you didn't enjoy parties because there were too many people there, you didn't like drinking, and people were making out all over the place, some of whom were newlyweds and others who were having affairs. you hated being messy, and gatherings were messy. also, you made an effort to limit the number of your friends because you found it uncomfortable to be surrounded by so many people.

but ashton, your best friend, pleaded with you to attend this particular gathering. hours would pass, and just when you thought he had finished pleading, he would resume. so you gave in.

that’s how you found yourself at ashton's house, sitting in your car, staring at your phone, and observing the passing of time. It had been over fifteen minutes since you had first decided whether or not to do this. hearing the faint music emanating from the house, your chest felt constricted. you pushed open the car door and walked over to the home. attempting to summon the guts to enter by standing outside the front door.

when the door opened, there was a strong odor of alcohol, as well as loud music and conversation. while searching among the throng of individuals swaying their bodies against one another to find your friend, you regretted your decision to agree. when you eventually located the man after searching the kitchen, the other person standing by his side immediately caught your eye.

everything around you vanished in an instant, leaving you only able to concentrate on the man with whom you had just locked eyes. wonderfully curled hair, flawless skin, eyes the color of the sea, and just enough of his white silk shirt's buttons were undone to make you flustered. he was stunning. all of a sudden, the room contained only you and him. there was only you and him; nothing else or anyone else was important.

but you were pulled from that thought As ashton grabbed your wrist and said, "cmon!", you were jolted out of your trance-like state. ”i gotta introduce you to everyone!" the australian cheered and dragged you into the kitchen where everyone was standing; all of a sudden, you were the center of attention. you waved to the small group of people while saying, "guys, this is my amazing friend, y/n," feeling a little uncomfortable at the unexpected focus. “y/n, this is calum, michael, crystal, sierra, and luke,” ashton said as he made an introduction.

the small group of individuals exchanged smiles, and you shook hands with each person before approaching luke with a gentle "hello."

wow.

your palm touched his, you prayed he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, and you both nodded. he was the most stunningly handsome person you had ever seen, by a long shot. ashton once again grabbed your arm away and dragged you out of the kitchen before you had a chance to continue admiring his attractiveness. while waving the group off, you glanced over your shoulder. You weren't angry with ashton since he knew you'd never tried something like this and that you were making a big step by doing so. he also needed a reason to prove to his buddies that you were real and an important part of his life.

at night's end, you were sitting in ashton's backyard, lounging around the pool, admiring the reflection as lights danced across the water of the pool. even though roughly half of the people left, music continued to play. people said he would always throw the nicest parties, and now you understood why. but you simply weren't made for this situation; you were too uncomfortable and worn out from engaging with everyone for so long. You simply wanted to return home, binge-watch your favorite movie in the coziness of your bed, and eat some frozen pizza.

the word "hey" surprised you and made you flinch just a little. your eyes landed on the person standing above you, holding one cup while concealing the other in his pocket. luke apologized for the quick response, "oh, sorry, i thought you heard me," but you just shook your head. you shrugged and turned to face the swimming pool, saying, "no, it's alright, was just thinking." there was a little period of silence since neither of you knew exactly what to say. you had just recently met. “do you want a drink?” he asked. “oh, no thanks,” you said as you once again looked up at him. “i'm not really a drinker.” the blonde let out a gentle laugh. "but you came a party?" while scratching your forehead, you chuckled alongside him. “well, ashton is a push-“ over. yeah. that he is," luke continued your sentence and you laughed. “i think i’m heading home now, im way too tired to stay much longer”. you got out of the lawn chair facing luke.

his mind began racings, he didn’t want the conversation to end just yet. he had to think of something so he could see you more. “do you need a ride?”

your hands were crossed, and your eyes darted back to his and then to the cup in his grasp. "thanks for the offer, but I just live ten minutes away," you said. he extended his hand to you after giving you a nod and pulling it from his pocket. “it was lovely meeting you, y/n,” “you too, luke”

you had no intention of seeing luke again after that. you had your friend group, ashton had his own, and you happened to be a part of both. you had no intention of ever returning to another party unless you absolutely had to be there; that atmosphere wasn't for you. it was too much for you, and you just wished ashton would be more considerate of your decision. you knew he wanted you around; you'd been best friends since high school, and it was difficult for you both to have separate lives.

but fate had something else in store for you.

it was subtle when you first became aware of his presence. you ran into him a few times in town, which wasn't unusual. but then he'd show up at your job, or he'd find his way into the same restaurant you were in. it was amusing at first because what are the chances you'd keep meeting like this?

so you confronted him one day. “you know, if you keep this up you’ll have to take me out for coffee” you started, putting down the record you pick up. this was one of the many times you had run into luke while running errands. this time, the both of you ended up in a local record store. you heard him chuckle softly before turning to you, “are you asking me out on a date?” he leans against the shelf raising his eyebrow. you shrug, “more like telling you to take me out” he nods, leaning in closer. “i see..then i guess i’ll see you tomorrow?”

you and luke are two opposites but somehow you two hit it off

he drinks while you don’t.

despite your differences, you detested parties, and luke's life was spent drinking; not you. you've never thought that opposites attract. yet it was odd because as time went on, you discovered that you were rather similar. you and luke had a lot in common, and you got along just well. it was never dull or tiring since the two of you could converse for as long as it took, even until the sun rose. you frequently found yourself stranded in ashton's or calum's backyard, relaxing on the chairs after talking until the wee hours of the morning like you were adolescents.

each time the two of you are in close contact, there is tension. You adored the quiet glances you two shared. It was much more enjoyable because it seemed as though the two of you were barred from being together.

It was never meant to go this far. You'd been hanging out with Luke for quite some time. you've been wanting to be with him every other day for at least a few months now, waiting for his texts or calls saying he wanted to hang out or if he found a new restaurant he thinks you'd like. or the way he'd subconsciously hold the small of you back while leading you through a crowded area, or how he'd always go out of his way to make sure you got home safely.

it was never supposed to escalate this quickly.

you found yourself wanting to hang out with him even more, wondering if Luke would be there when ashton asked you to hang out. You started thinking about him all the time.

that's when it started getting more complicated. you knew something between you changed after being with him so long. and although you knew how it changed you, you were too scared to jeopardize anything between you not when it was fresh.

truthfully, you just displayed to him, that you'd always be available. you could say no to anyone who had ever asked you out because of your newfound feelings for luke. but you couldn't tell him that, it was too soon. but even then, you couldn't get the sound of his laugh out of your mind, or the way your name rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be there. you couldn't stop picturing what it would be like to lay in his arms, limbs tangled together as he sang you the sweetest lullaby.

unknown to you, luke made an effort to avoid you in the beginning because he knew he couldn't control himself with you. no matter how hard he tried to hide himself from you or push you away, you always managed to find a way into his head like an addictive substance. as you were the most gorgeous person he had ever seen, he wanted to shield you from all harm and evil in the world and would do whatever it took to ensure that everyone knew the two of you belonged together.

but, did you know that?

you began to watch him from then on, looking for clues that could point you in the right direction. you'd noticed him fiddling with his rings, then grazing over the leg of his jeans or joggers, slipping his hand between you on the couch. his hand would inch across the seat, pausing now and then. then he'd retreat without much thought, preferring to rest his hand on his thigh rather than bother with yours.

nothing would have made you happier than to come across his hand. any action would be preferable to simply waiting for him to take the initiative and pleading with your eyes as if it would help. you contemplated inviting him over, striking up a conversation, or even touching his hand. Instead, you remained silent despite your strong desire to speak but your inability to do so.

you have no idea how or why you began to feel more confident around luke; you were the shy and reserved friend before meeting him, but you changed completely after meeting him. and you knew people would judge you for it, saying things like, "oh, i can't believe you'd changed yourself for a guy!" however, this was not the case. he made you feel something that you couldn't put into words. maybe he inspired you to be someone you've never been before.

you were standing outside ashton's door, picking at your nails, debating whether this was a good idea. you were dressed differently than usual, wearing a tight dress with a large leather jacket over it to try to hide your body.

something like this was extremely unusual for you, and you may have been an idiot to dress like this for a man who probably only thought of you as a friend. but it had to be worth a shot, right?

you let yourself in, the music was blaring and the pungent smell of liquor was all too familiar to you. you pushed through the people and eventually got to ashton’s living room where everyone else was. they all cheered and greeted you.

ashton hugged you first and said a bunch of drunk incoherent words about how happy he was to see you. then you greeted luke with a warm while which he reciprocated. “happy birthday luke” you said, he nodded. “thank you, y/n”.

after the small reunion, the group dissolved. everyone was off doing their own thing. you found yourself standing outside, a cup in your hand filled with whatever you found. the night air was a bit chilly which caused you to curse at yourself mentally for wearing such a short dress.

“you look nice.” luke’s voice rang as he came up behind you. You looked over your shoulder and spotted him. “thanks.” you smiled, and he raised his eyebrow. “you dress up that pretty for me?” he was standing next to you now, his comment and proximity were enough to make you blush. “and what if i did?” you retorted. luke smirked, “i’d be thankful because you look so good in that dress.”

he leaned closer, keeping eye contact with you.

he was so close to you that your heart began to beat quickly. you were attempting to read him while his eyes were staring right through you. there are two possible outcomes here. one of two things will happen: either someone will interrupt you like in a cliché movie, or he has the ideal opportunity to kiss you right now.

he leans in even closer, saying, "i'd even say that you should start dressing like this too, it suits you." you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

kiss me. please. just do it

you wanted him to make the first move because this moment had the chance to change everything. you didn't want to appear so desperate. luke must have noticed your begging expression because he started leaning in again, this time only a few centimeters from your lips.

oh, god. it’s happening. it’s happen-

“come on man, it's time for you to open your presents!" michael interrupted the situation by shouting from the kitchen. you sighed as you saw luke leave. you could almost sense the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to look at you to check if you were following him.

“okay, and it seems the last one is from….y/n!” michael and calum handed over the large box to luke.

luke unwrapped the box, displaying the guitar case as you watched. he looked perplexed as he tried to imagine what you may have given him. the one guitar he had been dreaming about was waiting for him when he opened the case. "y/n.." He takes the guitar in his hands and places it on his lap.

everyone who was gathered around him suddenly turned to look at you. he is the last one to do so.

"you bought this?" He asks, and you nod while beaming broadly. he had never looked so startled to you. how did you know, exactly? “how…how did you?” he trailed off.

"well, you talked about it for so long, and occasionally i caught you looking it up. so i thought, why not get it for you?“ you responded.

luke stood up and hurried to you after putting the red guitar back in its case. you were engulfed by his arms, spinning you. "im grateful. I have never gotten a present better than that. I promise i’ll treasure it” he smiles, “i know you will luke”.

and for the rest of the night, everything went great. until it didn’t.

"y/n," ashton said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"hm?" he had a mischievous smile on his face as you dropped your phone to your lap. "have you ever tried playing the drums?" "no?" you shook your head. It came out as a question as if you were asking yourself a question. "why?" he approached you and reached for your wrist. "you're about to!"

ashton was perched on the stool and sat you down on his lap, having handed you his drumsticks and demonstrated how to hold them properly as his hands caressed yours. he explained that he would only have you play a simple beat. he taught you the basics and then let you play a few beats on your own. you didn't notice how close ashton was, how his breath tickled your spine, or how delicately his hand held yours.

you two were laughing because you couldn't play because you had almost no rhythm. "this is exactly why you guys are musicians," you laughed, rising from ashton's lap and returning his sticks. "nah, practice enough and you'll get good enough to join the band," he winked.

luke watched the scene unfold in front of him, how close ashton was, the way he eyed you like you were some kind of prey. his hand was supporting his chin, his elbow was resting on the couch arm, and his jaw was locked. luke began tapping his finger impatiently against his cheek, were you so oblivious? everyone was making moves toward you, and you didn't even look at him? he pushed himself off the sofa and out of the room to get some fresh air. if he was in there any longer he would explode.

he hated the fact that, despite your lack of effort, you had him in your grasp. luke hated how near the guys were to you and how they treated you like they were hunting prey. how did you not notice how they eyed you? how the other boys treated you like some kind of object. especially ashton.

we’re you so oblivious to their advances? did you not see how luke wanted to rip you away from them and keep you all to himself?

did you even notice his attempts to try and win you?

He wanted the world to know how badly he wanted you, how you were his, and that despite his best efforts to deny it, he was falling in love with you. Luke had difficulty accepting it, but he would go to the ends of the earth for you.

“what was that about?” you ask, after watching luke exit the room. calum shrugged, “who knows. it’s luke” he didn’t look at you as he was nose deep in his phone. you looked around the room, everyone seemed not interested. “he probably left because ashton was feeling you up” someone added. you huffed, grabbed your jacket, and walked outside to the patio.

you saw his silhouette and walked up to him. “luke?” he didn’t respond and you walked closer. “lu?” you spoke the nickname you had given him. he finally turned back to look at you.

you saw that look in his eyes, the only look he had when looking at you. “luke, what’s going on? why’d you walk out like that? did i do something wrong?” his back was still turned to you, refusing to look at you. “you just don’t get it, do you?” he still wouldn’t face you. “get what, luke? the fact that you’re ignoring me in front of everyone and leaving me in the dark.” you were feeling frustrated, upset that he wouldn’t even look at you. “god, luke, just look at me!” you grabbed his arm, spinning him around so he’d have to look at you now.

“talk to me.” you pleaded. your eyes begging as you stared into his blue eyes. luke hated it, he hated how you had him in the palm of your hand ready to do anything for you if you’d just say the words. he detested that no matter how hard he tried, it would always be you. “oh, baby,” his hand caressed your cheek. “don’t make me spell it out for you…you know i want you”

“what?” you were only able to mutter, feeling the heat take over your face. maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it just was the fact that he said those words. you opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off. “every fucking day, I wish you were mine- every single goddamned day.”

you removed his hand from your cheek, silently missing his touch. “how was i supposed to know you felt more for me than just a friend, lu?” you saw his brows furrow. “you never explicitly told me, you wanted me..why?” you trailed off, you watched as he tried to come up with an explanation. “you never, ever, use your words like.”

you watched as he examined your face. you were mad but calm. it scared him, we’re you about to reject him? “for someone who writes songs for his job, he would be able to express his feelings freely. i guess not.”

“how did you expect me to decipher the hundred different ways you look in my direction? this isn’t just on me yknow. luke goes quiet, his eyes looking deeper into your eyes than before.

“i thought my actions would say all they needed to” you reply, “i thought you were just acting as a friend? you and all the guys act the same” luke locks his jaw, balling his fits by his side. “they act that way because they want to fuck you y/n.” you look taken aback legging out a scoff.

“so what about you, then?” “what about me?” “are you acting this way because you want to fuck me?” you smirk as luke realizes he backed himself into a corner.

“i—no? that’s not what—fuck.” he runs his hand through his hair. “let me start over. y/n, i’m sorry i wasn’t honest and i’m sorry i didn’t use my words. but i want you more than a friend should and i need to know, do you want me that way too?” you try to hide your smile while you step closer and wrap your arms around his neck. “see now was that so hard?”

he looks down at you, raising his eyebrow. “you didn’t answer the question.” you let the smile take over fully. “luke hemmings i have been tripping over my feet since the day we first met. yes, i very much want you too.”

he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, allowing him to peck your lips. “i was hoping you’d say that”

(and you can predict the end u filthy ppl<3)

#5sos fan fiction #5sos smut #5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos x reader #5sos imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings angst #bartxnhood asks #bartxnhood writes

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