#except lippy and messy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dtfharry · 7 years

Text

Jamaica

Harry X Reader: THIGH RIDING / SMUT

In which you and Harry have wound up together in Jamaica for a friend’s wedding, causing shy glances and uncomfortable conversations about your boyfriend back home, the one that kinda stuck around when Harry broke your heart 2 years ago.

Word Count: 7k+

Jamaica was a blessing.

Although you’d only just gotten on the plane at Gatwick, you knew Jamaica was going to be everything you needed and more. Planning a wedding for your best friend was incredibly stressful so much so you wish you’d said no when she asked so sweetly. You thought you had it all under control, but that was until your phone was buzzing throughout the day with people texting over their meal choice and dietary requirements. Too many people wanting the chicken and not enough people wanting the beef or salmon. You’d had enough of it and had enough of the glass of red in your hand not making this any easier, so you took a deep breath and took to your iPhone keyboard.

Look, it’s either the beef or the salmon. Forget the fucking chicken it’s gone. You’ve got 5 minutes to text me or you are out of the wedding.

You accepted the complimentary glass of wine onboard the plane, it would have been rude not too. You sat back waiting for the emergency demonstrations to be finished with, so you could put your headphones in and enjoy the in-flight entertainment for 9 and a half hours until you arrived in paradise.

The minute you got to The Jamaican Inn you’d fallen in love. Your room had fresh flowers on every surface possible and you thought it couldn’t get any better until you walked into the bathroom and saw you had a big bath in the middle of the room which looked out onto the ocean. You thought you were dreaming, you really did. You walked back to your room, dropping your bags and walking towards the balcony that overlooked the beach too. You were in paradise and this trip hadn’t even properly begun yet. You dropped yourself onto the bed and just listened to the waves that were crashing onto the shore.

You were awoken by that ridiculously annoying iPhone ringtone, and after many shut up’s, it still hadn’t silenced. You rubbed your eyes while looking out to the balcony, it wasn’t light anymore outside and you quickly realised you’d fallen asleep. “Hello?” You cleared your throat and stood up, you shut the windows and closed the blinds a little. “Shit, I’ll be 20 minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby, bye.” You mumbled as you ran into the bathroom and ran the bath. You had 20 minutes to get ready and to meet your best friend and her husband-to-be downstairs for the rehearsal dinner. Great. 20 minutes until you see Harry.

You quickly washed and got your clothes out of your suitcase, you mentally cursed yourself for not doing this earlier. But the bed looked way too comfy and you were so tired, so when you thought, fuck it a 30-minute nap won’t hurt. It hurt, big time because that 30-minute nap turned out to be 3 hours long.

You quickly pulled the red dress over your head and shoulders, sucking your stomach in so it actually fit your body, you cursed yourself again, you really needed to stop taking complimentary chocolates from the hotels you visited. You pulled your makeup bag out of the suitcase along with many thongs and bras. You sprawled your makeup out on the floor and found what you needed. Trying to put on your lippy while trying to find your heels in the other suitcase was an award-winning performance you thought, eventually you were ready with 3 minutes to spare.

You really needed to get your shit together.

You quickly sprayed your favourite perfume, grabbed your clutch and iPhone and you were ready. As you went to open the door you saw your reflection in the mirror, “FUCK.” You pulled your hair out of the band and let it flow past your shoulders. “Fuck it, it’s not my wedding.” You said as you ran your fingers through your hair and tried to make it look half decent.

You got out of the maze you thought the hallway was and saw the sign that pointed to the lifts. You looked at you iPhone and saw the many texts from Bex asking where the fuck you were. You decided to ignore them, nothing like winding the bride up, the night before her big day right? You carried on walking to the lifts, you looked up from your phone when you heard the lift make a beep, alerting everyone that it was opening, you hurried your steps and got to the lift. And that’s when you saw him.

Harry.

You didn’t know when the last time you saw him. You sometimes saw him in the street, but you never approached him, it wasn’t necessary. You saw him countless times in M&S, but you just went down a different aisle. Sometimes you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but you wouldn’t forget that number plate on his Range Rover, so you knew it was him. And he knew you were there too, he saw your Mini Cooper in the M&S carpark, it wasn’t hard to miss. He didn’t see many baby blue Mini’s in the area, and maybe just maybe, he remembered your number plate too.

Your break up with Harry wasn’t messy. If anything, it was placid. You’d been together for 3 years, but the realisation of Harry being a superstar eventually got to you, not in the fact that he was who he was, but because of the touring. And you hated yourself for basing the breakup on that fact. But it was true. The last year of your relationship is when Harry began to tour the most. You’d go for weeks without seeing him, and days without a proper conversation, just little texts here and there. And yes, you knew this was what came with dating Harry Styles. But you didn’t think it would get this tough.

So, you decided to tell the man you loved more than anything in the entire world that you wanted to break up. And Harry understood, he really did. And that’s what made it hurt more, the fact that he had been thinking it too, it wasn’t fair to leave you weeks on end and to only be able to text you every now and then. He hated it too, he just wanted to fly you out to every single show and have you in his arms the minute it ended and just keep with him forever. But that wasn’t realistic. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t lust anymore, it was guilt. So, when you packed up all your things on a Sunday morning and took one last look at the house you’d live in for 3 years with the love of your life. You thought this would be it. Harry helped take your boxes to the car. He let you keep his things that you’d grown attached to. Except him. It had been a week since you broke up and you were trying so hard not to crumble and just fall back into his arms. But just when you thought you were okay, he texts you, open your door, so you did, and he was there, eyes completely bloodshot and big puffy lips. Before you could even blink he had lifted you up and kissed you so hard you thought your lips were going to break. He shut the front door and carried you up the stairs, you both knew this shouldn’t be happening but neither of you could stop it, you both just had too, one more time, for old time’s sake. He held you as if he was never going to let you go again and kissed you as if he was losing you, which he was and you both started to cry and say things but were soon consumed in each other that you’d forgotten why you were crying.

You’d been in contact recently. Wedding purposes only. You had to text him, asking what meal choice he wanted at the wedding. When Bex asked if you needed his number you slowly shook your head. You never deleted it, although you promised yourself you would. So it was good when he text you first.

Hi, it’s Harry. I hope you’re well. The feta salad for starter, the chicken for main and the cheesecake for dessert, please. H x

Oh, do you know what the cheesecake is?

Hi. I’m good, taa. Yourself? Got it, thank you! x

Think it’s blueberry or strawberry.

Good, I’m glad. For your sake, I hope it’s strawberry.

Me too, but it’s not my wedding! I’ll be by the chocolate fondue machine if it’s blueberry.

I can imagine Bex has said that a lot? Chocolate fondue machine? This wedding will be fun.

You know Bex! And a free bar, what more could you ask for?

Of course. See you soon. H x

Harry gave you a double look, unsure if it was actually you. He gives you a soft smile and you politely return it. You stepped in the lift and pressed the button that said G.

“How have yeh been?”

You looked up at him. Your eyes were like a deer in headlights, it was as if you were stunned he’d actually spoken to you.

“I’ve been good thank you. How are you?” You watched Harry and smiled softly. It was lovely to hear his voice again, in all honesty, you missed it. Harry nodded, saying he’s been well and that this wedding in Jamaica was something he’d been looking forward to for a while. He was the best man to Brad, Bex’s husband to be, which made him bring up the subject of your boyfriend, something you didn’t want to speak about at all throughout this trip. Your awkward silence made Harry clear his throat.

“One of us had to bring him up, Y/N.”

“It’s good, thank you.” You leave it at that. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore and you hoped Harry got that, but he didn’t.

“Do you think he’s the one?’

You could hear the dryness in Harry’s voice, he always had a way of asking questions that were obvious he didn’t put much thought behind. Your heart started to hurt as you looked up at him. Why was he doing this?

“I- I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff anymore.” You said quietly. Thankfully the lift came to a stop and the doors opened so you didn’t have to see Harry’s face. You could see Bex and Brad standing there talking amongst themselves. Once they heard the lift doors open they turned in unison to look at you, their faces said it all. You weren’t sure if it was because you weren’t alone or because it was Harry in the lift with you.

The wedding rehearsal dinner went smoothly. Months of planning had finally paid off, although the wedding was tomorrow it wasn’t possible for anything to go wrong right? You let out a deep breath as you took a sip of your G&T, letting out a small laugh when you heard everyone else doing so just so it looked like you were paying attention. You looked up when you heard Bex snort, she was drunk. It was amusing to watch, you were glad your best friend was happy and in less than 24 hours she was going to marry the man of her dreams.

The more Bex drank the more vocal she became, it was interesting, to say the least. You just hoped she left you out of her drunken rambles. You and Harry were sitting opposite each other at the dining table when Bex let it slip. The conversation was on the bridesmaids and how they were missing their boyfriends back home, and someone happened to mention that you would be missing yours as you’d been in the longest relationship out of them all. And that’s when Bex said it.

“I doubt it, I think Y/N’s glad she broke up with him last week.” Bex snorted and then mumbled an ‘oops’ as Brad quietly said something in her ear.

And there it was, something you were wanting to remain hush hush this entire trip. You couldn’t really blame Bex, she was pissed out of her arse and happy, so happy. You were jealous of her, you only being one of the two. You decided that your relationship with your boyfriend was going to come to an end. You weren’t feeling it anymore and you were getting quite sick of his temper tantrums when you refused to suck his dick every night and you were pretty sure he was dealing coke on the side, so really Bex’s wedding came at the perfect time to break it off and have the best trip of your life in Jamaica with the ones you love and the ones you loved.

You let out a sigh and took the last remaining sip of your drink before standing up and mumbled a quick, thanks, Bex. You hadn’t realised everyone’s eyes were on you, but you noticed Harry’s when you quickly glanced at him before pushing your chair away, so you could leave. You headed to the bar to get another drink and left the dining room.

The beach was beautiful in the evening, it’s like you planned it perfectly to leave the others. There was a light breeze in the air that softly touched the palm trees making them sway as they led you to the less public part of the beach. There were lanterns in the sand which guided everyone to different parts of the beach. You knew you had to explore, but not tonight, you just wanted to sit down on the sand, look at the ocean and drink the most expensive bottle of wine from the bar that you accidentally put on Bex and Brad’s tab.

You hadn’t even realised you were crying until you felt a drop of something wet hit your arm, you sniffled and wiped your eyes, but the tears kept coming. You took another swig of the wine and pulled a face as you swallowed it. You looked out at the ocean and just stared at it for a while thinking how it looked so calm. You were taken from your thoughts when you heard someone walking up next to you. And that’s when you saw him again.

Harry.

He looked like a God. You noticed his hair was a lot shorter now than it was 2 years ago, not that you minded, it was for the Dunkirk movie he did, and the change was good for him. You didn’t have a chance to mention it before because, in all honesty, the two of you haven’t really spoken at all today, but what did that matter, you’ve not actually spoken for two years. The sea salt air had made the ends of his fringe begin to curl and it was funny because for once he was not in control of how his hair went. He was adjusting to the weather in Jamaica, with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and of course the next three buttons down. Those trousers, if anyone would pull off black pants with pink and red fucking glitter florals on them, it would be him. His eyes were bloodshot but this time it was from all of the alcohol he’d been drinking, not from you breaking his heart.

“There you are,” Harry spoke so softly, hiding the fact that he was just relieved to have found you. You smiled at him, holding the bottle of wine up to invisibly cheers him. He sat down next to you on the sand, he could tell you were drunk as you had an empty bottle of wine in between your legs, one more than you actually thought you had. He looked out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before looking back at you, he noticed the tears on your cheeks and frowned.

“Do yeh’ remember when we went on holiday to Greece and we went on that boat to the private island where we had a candlelit dinner?”

You looked at him and let out a teary sigh. Of course, you remembered. It was your 2-year anniversary and Harry had surprised you with a holiday to Greece and you were just so excited to spend two weeks with him and just him. No work. No interrupted dinners, no interrupted kisses, no interrupted quickies that left you halfway through an orgasm while you were screaming bloody murder at Harry to get back and finish what he started. You were just excited to be with the man you love in the most beautiful place on earth.

“I remember some of it.” You admitted quietly. “I made myself forget some stuff as it just hurt too much when I thought about y- when I thought about it.” You hoped he didn’t catch on to what you let slip, but he did. He always did.

After a while of reminiscing about the past, you were completely unaware how close you and Harry were sitting. You didn’t even realise that your head was resting on his shoulder. The closeness made your heart sink a little. You didn’t realise how much you had missed him until now. Harry moved slightly causing you to open your eyes and turn to look at him. His head swivels in your direction immediately, his eyes matching yours. You looked at him as if you were looking for something, you didn’t know what it was you were looking for, but you just couldn’t turn away.

Harry leans forward, licking his bottom lip slightly and you know you should probably move away but you’ve had so much to drink you feel paralysed. His lips softly brushed against yours as he kissed you. You let out a soft moan which Harry returned a couple more times. His hands reached up to your cheeks as he held them softly, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. His tongue swiped your bottom lip as his right hand went around the curve of your neck to hold you closer. Your sudden realisation of what was happening made you moan, granting Harry the access he needed as you opened your mouth slightly.

You kissed for what felt like hours, you missed his lips, you missed his touch, you craved it, you craved him. His hands grasp at your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Your sudden moan jolted Harry’s hand and you almost straddling his thigh, although you were so high on kissing him you had no idea. Harry’s hands slowly made their way from your cheeks to your waist to your arse and you were loving it so much you hadn’t realised you were grinding up and down on Harry’s thigh until he let out a moan that paused the kisses you were giving.

The kissing came to a stop as Harry moved to your neck, from delicate little kisses too long strokes of his tongue on the spot he knew got you weak. You couldn’t ignore the burning sensation in your stomach, you were tingling with pure excitement and you couldn’t even try and control it.

His lips felt like melted butter on your skin, they were so soft. It wasn’t until he nipped harshly at your neck that your own moan brought you out of your little daydream. He made sure he left a mark, like always, but you didn’t mind. You moved your hands down to what you thought was his chest, instead, your hands were just a little under his navel, to which you could feel how hard he was. The amount of alcohol you had consumed gave you just a tiny bit more confidence, so you rubbed him slowly over his trousers. He hissed at your actions which made you sit properly on his thigh this time, and so you kept rubbing yourself against it. A gasp leaving your lips when you feel friction on your clit, your hands abandoning his hardening length and knotting in the shoulders of his shirt.

“Yeh always loved that.” His voice sounding like honey against your ear, you moan again while drunkenly nodding your head.

“Can I keep doing it?” You said ever so softly, he looked at you, never being able to tell you no, so he nodded his head. “Of course, you can darlin’.”

You moan gratefully, ears still ringing in the aftermath of his words and how they just rolled off his lips.

He hums in approval when you settle into a slow pace, focusing on the pressure more than the speed. His fingers digging into your hips to hold you down, that alone getting you more and more worked up. And when he gives you little praises in his raspy voice you think you are about to explode.

“You’re doin’ so well, love.”

You whimper as you start to feel your build up coming to the brink and Harry praises you until you get there but you shake your head in between moans. Harry moves the hair that’s fallen on your face to look at you. You look at him and then look downwards.

“Fuck, Harry. I can’t come on Gucci!”

His two fingers slip between his thigh and your underwear. He hadn’t comprehended the extent of your arousal until you stopped moving. You gasp and shudder at his sudden touch. “Yeh really do love this don’t ya, you’re soaked.” He pulls your underwear to one side and greedily slides his fingers inside, slighting brushing the top of one between your folds. He pulls his fingers out and before you’ve got time to even blink he slams them back into you. You jolt forward with a loud moan, your heart beginning to race at the excitement and how you’ve not been touched like this in over six months.

You’re gripping his hair so tightly he’s sure he’s going to lose a few, but the way he works his fingers inside you is killing you and you just want to come. But you’re not sure if you’re going to come the fucking rainbow, it feels THAT good. And you’re sure it was always like this with Harry, certain on it, in fact. But this felt so good that you literally just wanted to scream from the top of your lungs. And it didn’t help when his thumb decided to play part in all this and press your clit, beginning to rub circles on it, you couldn’t shut your eyes hard enough.

“Come for me,” he rasped and that was all you needed. Your head tilted back as if it was going to fall off, and so many sounds escaped your lips, you weren’t even sure you were speaking English anymore, your head was spinning like a yo-yo from the intensity of your orgasm. But you didn’t care, you were chanting his name like a fucking hymn and he was so wrapped up in your voice and how he had this effect on you.

Your chest is pressed up against his as you desperately heave for air. He leaves soft little kisses on the side of your forehead until your breathing is back to normal. And just when you thought you were done he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, as you watched him lick his fingers as if they were his favourite ice lolly. You looked in amazement, and when his eyes met yours you thought it was possible to just explode in his arms.

You didn’t decline Harry’s offer to go back to his. You didn’t decline anything that he offered in fact, so for the last half an hour your lips were superglued to each other’s as you laid on his bed. You had learnt how to pull away from his kisses and you did after a while, and you both began to talk, about life, and what you were both up to these days. It felt nice to just chat with him again like you used too and laugh to the point you thought you were going to piss yourself. You really had missed this.

It’s when you all of a sudden get ballsy and push his chest down onto the bed and kiss his lips so hard he thinks they’ve have deflated, that you work your way down his body until you come to his belt and trousers. You lifted his shirt up a little and smirked to yourself when you saw the inked words might as well… under his hip. You fiddle with the belt and undo it, chucking it behind you, you stop as he grabs your hands and asks what are you doing? You look at him, “you know what I’m doing Haz.” And that’s all he needed to let go of your wrists and prop himself onto his elbows to watch you.

You slipped your hand around the base of his cock and looked up at him as he let out a grunted moan. You moved a little closer and flicked your tongue over the head of his shaft, teasing him with little kitten licks. You locked your lips around the tip and sucked lightly, causing his hand to pull on your hair lightly. You lowered your head in slow movements while you continued to suck his length. You pulled away completely and licked up the entirety of his length, your eyes locked on him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “You make me crazy, Y/N,” he whined and threw himself back on the bed. You let out a soft little giggle while he propped himself back up onto his elbows. Your hand holding the base as your mouth slid down to the base, to the point his pubic hairs were touching your nose. You quickly pushed the thoughts of; how long has it been for him? Who was giving it to him? - out of your head and just continued.

“Your mouth is almost as good as your pussy,” he groaned. You moaned loudly against him surprised at the remembrance, causing him to jolt forward, creating a yelp to cry out as he pushed his cock in your throat a little too far. You opened your eyes as water came to the brink and he noticed and apologised quickly. You pulled away slowly, the saliva strings following your lips as your mouth abandoned his tip. He watches you, stroking your cheek to make sure you were alright.

You let out a deep breath while looking at him. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this if anything it was probably the twentieth time this had happened. During your relationship with Harry, blowjobs were a very common thing, hell, anything that included the two of you being naked or getting each other off was a common thing. You started off tallying every time you gave Harry a blowie, but you soon became bored as you were getting chalk dust on your bedroom floor every single day. So, you both decided not to keep track as there wasn’t really a need for it. But every month he’d accidentally jolt forward without any warning and leave you with a very sore throat for the next few days. You attached your lips to his dark pink tip once again and went back to doing what you did best. He was twitching underneath you, mumbles leaving his lips, his grip getting tighter and tighter on the roots of your hair.

“I’m gonna come,” he moaned as you flicked your tongue over his slit a couple more times, you nodded your head preparing yourself to swallow his load. He twitched, and his release hit the back of your throat within an instant, you moaned slowly as you swallowed it and pulled away. Not forgetting to clean up the rest of his length with your tongue.

Waking up that next morning was perfect. You could hear the birds chirping from the trees and you could hear the waves slowly crashing into one another. Had you actually woken up without a hangover? You counted your lucky stars and hoped it was true. You stirred in your sleep and realised you had an arm around your waist and someone snoring softly in your ear. You let out a deep breath and looked down at the arm over your stomach, a cross tattoo by his thumb and an anchor tattoo on his wrist. You knew whose arm this belonged too.

You let out a little cough, desperately needing some water down your throat, especially after last night. Harry stirred next to you and moved his arm slowly. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking around the room, his was different to yours for sure. Harry sat up and looked at you, he didn’t want to admit it but that was the best sleep he’d had in months. You both turned your heads and looked at each other, you smile softly as his hand finds yours on top of the covers, his thumb stroking your pinkie finger slightly. Just as he went to say something your iPhone began to ring. You let out a little sigh which he notices, and you get up pulling a blanket with you. You wrap it around your body as you try and find where that ridiculous music is coming from. You eventually find it and put the iPhone to your ear.

“Good morning to you too,” you start and clear your throat again, you wince as you touch your throat, still painful from Harry’s little accident last night. You look up at him as he mouths a quick sorry. You try and find the clothes you were wearing last night while partly listening to her highnesses, Bex’s speech about how it’s her wedding day today, and that it has to be perfect, there is no time for any mistakes.

“Bex, hunny, calm the fuck down!” You said as you found you bra sitting on the TV, you grabbed it and tucked it underneath your arm. “I just need to shower, when I’ve done that, I’ll go downstairs and make sure everything is in place, and everything is exactly what you’ve asked for ok?” You asked as you eventually found your dress in Harry’s bathroom. You picked up your shoes and held them by the straps as you looked around hastily for your underwear.

“I’ll go and check that the caterers are all here and ready, and then I’ll come up and get my hair and make-up done, and then I’ll be with ya ok? Just breathe. I’ve got this.” You took a deep breath as you looked around the room once more but still couldn’t find your red thong. You hung up the phone and put it back in your clutch bag which was tucked in the lampshade by Harry’s bed. This morning was getting more and more confusing.

You looked up at Harry as he just sat at the end of the bed, the blanket wrapped around his waist. Red thong in hand.

You walked over to him and took the thong from his hands. “Thank you.” You smile at him and he smiles back.

“Sorry about um your throat.” He says with a little smile toying on his lips. Your cheeks flush and you let out a smile. “It’s okay, used to it.” You let out a little laugh as you look at him.

“I have to leave though.” You say softly, and he nods his head once more.

“I thought so. I’ll see you in a while.” He says in a raspy voice that makes you want to just fall back into his arms and never leave.

You fiddle with the bouquet in your hands as you look at Bex one last time. You smiled at her, she looked beautiful and your heart was bursting with happiness. You took one last look in the mirror and thanked the lord for the makeup artist and the amazing job they had done to your face.

“See you out there.” You smiled at your best friend and took one last deep breath before you left the bride’s suite before heading to the area where the groomsmen were waiting for their partners.

Where Harry was waiting for you.

You walked towards him, smiling at the other groomsmen behind Harry. You stopped as Harry bent his arm, you took hold of it gently and smiled. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and your breathing began to hitch. You returned the small peck on his stubbly cheek and returned to your original position.

“Y/N. You look absolutely breath-taking.” He said softly as you both watched Brad walk down the aisle, shaking Bex’s father’s hand and hugging her mum. He stood in position and the faint instrumental music of All of Me by John Legend began to play and you knew in 2 minutes you had to walk down that aisle.

“Thank you. You look really good. I like the short hair.” You said softly, not wanting the other groomsmen to hear your conversation. The bridesmaids began to appear from the direction you did, partnering up with the groomsmen.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” He says with a small smirk playing on his lips, you looked up at him.

“I did. It was hard not to notice yesterday, I’m used to tugging on long hair.” You said innocently, Harry noticing your smile as you turned your head so you were no longer facing him. You knew a smile had spread across that face you once loved.

Cause all of me, loves all of you.

On cue, you and Harry walked out of the doors and onto the soft sand. You both looked up as everyone turned towards you, you smiled softly as the flower girl in front of you dropped orange petals on the ground you walked.

Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.

You let out a deep breath and shut your eyes as you could feel the tears filling them. Now wasn’t the time. You could cry another time.

As you got to Brad you and Harry parted your ways. But just as you let go of Harry’s arm he grabbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your cheek, before pulling away.

You cleared your throat and stood in your position. You looked at Harry as he shook hands with Brad and stood opposite to you. The bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle and as they got into place, the music slowly stopped and Bex’s chosen song began to play. A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.

The guests stood, and you turned your attention to the aisle, smiling at your best friend as she walked down the aisle.

After the tearful speeches and the full-on make-out session, Brad and Bex had once the minister said you may now kiss the bride. You were finally sitting down at the selected table for all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. You were just excited to get the food down you. You had been so nervous something was going to go wrong you completely skipped breakfast and lunch. And so, when your feta salad came out, you asked for two portions as you were the maid of honour, so you had every right. And when the chicken was getting served you asked for more, because you were the maid of honour and had every right.

And because you were the maid of honour, you got your drinks brought to you, so you didn’t have to keep getting up to go to the bar. You had become rather friendly with Joey the young man who was literally at your beck and call all night. But you were the maid of honour after all.

You were placed next to Harry, you reckoned Bex had something to do with it, but you weren’t particularly sure and to be honest, you didn’t care. It was awfully nice to have him so close to you.

There were little hand touches throughout the reception, it was either, reaching for the salad dressing at the same time, or both leaning to pick up the jug of water, it was uncanny, to say the least. So, when Harry excused himself you thought he had gone to the loo, he’d had way too many beers in a short amount of time, so you weren’t surprised.

But what you were surprised at was the clink of a knife being tapped against the champagne flute, and Harry whispering 1, 2, 3, can you hear me? - into the microphone. You were disappointed a little, you were waiting patiently for the cheesecake to be served because if it was blueberry, you wanted to be first in line for the chocolate fondue machine you had been eyeing all night.

“Hi, I’m Harry. And I would like to just say a few words.”

You looked back to Harry, whose eyes were on you and picked up your nearly empty glass, luckily Joey had noticed and came around with the champagne and quickly filled it to the top so you were able to cheers after Harry’s toast.

“Obama once said, love is love.”

And with that, he was done, glass in the air and off the stage. You let out a little laugh and took a mouthful of your drink. He sat back down next to you and you looked at him in disbelief. “That was quicker than expected.” You said softly.

“I was thinking that last night,” he mumbled and took another swig of his beer. Your cheeks flushed pink as you were unable to look away from that devilish smirk he had on his lips.

The DJ announces it is time for the first dance and you roll your eyes, praying that the cheesecake will be being served anytime now, but once you heard the song begin and you heard the words of Shania Twain; You’re Still The One, you thought your heart had stopped then and there.

When I first saw you, I saw love,

and the first time you touched me, I felt love,

and after all this time, you’re still the one I love.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as you looked up and saw Bex and Brad join together and kiss.

Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby,

You looked back to your plate and took the glass in your hand, instead of the usual mouthful, you chugged the entire liquid down your slightly swollen and sore throat.

You were unaware that Harry had been watching you instead of the newly wedded couple taking their first dance. But he knew.

He knew this was the song you wanted at your wedding. Your wedding with him. The song you took your first dance too. The song that made you think of him. The song that described your entire relationship from the first time you met, to the last time you kissed him goodbye.

You put your glass down and let out a sigh. You wipe your tears as they begin to fall and sit up. You caught eyes with Harry and he smiled softly at you.

You’re still the one I love, the only one I dream of,

You looked at him as another tear rolled down your cheek and gave the tiniest smile he’d ever seen you’d give. He moves his hand across the table and takes your hand in his. He strokes your pinkie lightly as he looks at you. You needed to look away, at something else, because if you didn’t you were going to cry your eyes out in front of everyone, and you definitely did not want that.

You didn’t want Joey to see you like this. Not now. Especially since he slipped you his number after he watched you chug down your first glass of champagne the minute you sat down at the reception.

If this wedding went to shit, you were relying on Joey to make it a tad more interesting.

‘Pretty girl, you look like you could do with a bit of fun. I get off at 5.’ was written above his number, you smiled to yourself and put the piece of paper in your clutch. You needed more than a bit of fun.

Harry stands up, your hand still in his. You look up at him confused. He tilts his head to the dance floor and you shake your head. “I can’t.”

He looks at you like he needs you to change your answer. You don’t want those emerald eyes looking sad anymore, so you oblige. You stand up and follow him to the dance floor.

As Harry held you close, you buried your head in his chest. You could hear his heart racing and you smiled to yourself, you closed your eyes as you took in his scent. God, you really missed him. And you hated yourself so much for doing so.

You swayed softly while You’re Still The One filled the room. You let out a deep breath and just enjoyed the moment you two were in.

“I miss you.”

You weren’t sure you heard what he said correctly as the chorus broke out, so you moved your head from his chest and looked at him.

“I really miss you.” He starts again. “These past 2 years, I’ve been thinking about you every day.” You blink. “We should have never broken up. I still love you Y/N.”

You stare at him. Was this happening right now? You closed your eyes and opened them again. No words functioned in your brain, so you just opened your lips to close them again.

“I get why you broke up with me. But it’s different now Y/N. I still love you.”

You blink once more, not sure you can even move at this point. You clear your throat and go to say something, but before you even have the chance, Harry leans in and kisses you.

“You’re still the one.”

(Feedback is welcome x)

2K notes · View notes

darkmoonhye · 4 years

Text

stalker!hyejoo part 1

(originally sent anonymously to candychoerryluv on curiouscat under the alias of cowboy emoji. will likely be edited, rewritten, and republished at some point)

i think of lipsoulves all hitting the town with increasing frequency. at first, it was only on occasion (maybe once a month at most) and it was all the unnies, but eventually those three took a particular liking to club and bar-hopping, heading out multiple times a week... initially, hyejoo was just mildly curious about what exactly they got up to on their own, but no one would answer her questions. she even tried hinting about wanting to go with them one time, but yves had pretty much laughed her off ('you're like a baby, hyejoo') while jinsol cooed over how sweet it was that she wanted to tag along (jinsol's nickname for hyejoo ever since then has been 'duckling'). lip didn't say much about the entire thing, had just gotten a bit impatient with the older two since she wanted to get out to do -- whatever it was they did.

the entire encounter had strongly irritated hye, and it took her a while before she managed to get over it. or so she thought, until one night, lipsoulves set out on their regular friday outing alongside yerim, of all people. it was one thing on the rare instances that they were joined by heejin, hyunjin, or even gowon (which had only happened once, and hyejoo hadn't spoken to her for a week when even she had given cryptic answers about what they got up to), but yerim was just barely older than her! if her unnies thought she was too young, surely a couple short months shouldn't have made a difference...? but evidently, to them, it did, and hyejoo just couldn't accept that.

that night had been the start of hyejoo's stalking habit. at that point, she was afraid of getting caught following them, more than anything, so she kept far back, didn't even dare trying to get into the clubs they entered. just sat across the street, ignoring the inebriated idiots who would harass her every so often, and waited for them to emerge again. when they did, the unnies looked mostly the same as they typically did when hyejoo would see them getting home in the early morning hours. jinsol was maybe a little more inebriated than usual, yves a little more smug-looking, and lip was quiet in the way that she only was after their nights out.

yerim was the only one who gave hye the barest hint of what could've went down. even from afar, hyejoo could tell she was a mess - hair dishevelled, face flushed, and clothes rumbled (when she snuck in to check the laundry a few hours later, she found her confirmation through yerim's skirt, strangely stained, and a pair of her torn and equally stained underwear in the trash). she was lacking the details and context, but yerim's appearance was enough to give hyejoo a solid idea of what exactly the unnies went out to do. yves had an arm slung around yerim, half-guiding her into the backseat of a hailed cab, before she and jinsol climbed in after her. hyejoo assumed that lip would take shotgun, but strangely, she instead stayed exactly where she was and saw the other three off. hyejoo's curiousity emerged once more when lip headed right back into the club, but she pushed down the feeling - it was more important that she got home before the other unnies realized she was missing, lest her new favourite game meet a premature end.

after that night, hye follows her unnies almost every time they go out (one more returning to the normalcy of just lipvesoul), becoming more daring every time she does, quickly mustering up the nerve to follow them into the places they frequent, and even managing to ask around for them without rousing suspicion. it becomes habitual - hye gets used to seeing how the three women start the night off together, before lip goes off to dance on her own, breaking off the other two (who at the early stages of the night are more involved in each other than anyone else, anyways). eventually, jinsol always gets a little too sloshed, and yves ditches her for other pretty women, while jinsol essentially gets left in the care of any somewhat-safe-seeming stranger who is unlucky enough to be close by when yves dips. then, at some point in the night, yves will go sneak off to hook up with some college-aged girl in the bathroom, jinsol will puke on her appointed babysitter, and lip will vanish altogether, before re-appearing about an hour later to collect both her partners in crime.

it's enough like clockwork that hyejoo gets bored of the routine really quickly, her only real moment of entertainment arising from the one time that yves left a virtually unconscious jinsol completely alone, and out of a strange sense of protectiveness, hyejoo had slipped into the same booth as her to care for the delirious woman until shortly before the point in time where she knew the other unnies would be returning (jinsol had awoken at one point to hyejoo’s hands gently scratching at her scalp, and hyejoo was sure her heart stopped out of fear when the older woman mumbled out a ‘duckling...’ - fortunately for her, jinsol was truly a blackout drunk, and no evidence remained of their close proximity that night except for a small collection of moderately lewd photos on hyejoo’s phone).

getting close to jinsol was exhilarating, but yves isn’t careless enough to leave her completely alone very often (and when it does happen, hyejoo always helps herself to something special for her chivalrous services, be it more photos, a messy kiss, or even jinsol’s underwear), and hyejoo could only find so much amusement in anonymously sending yves drinks paired with flirty messages (setting her up to hit on a particularly disinterested, or at least, very heterosexual women - watching her unnie strike out is the only fair repayment for how yves treats her these days). so really, she spends most of her time watching lip grind on (and get felt up) by anyone who comes her way. a part of her itches to be closer, but hyejoo knows that lip doesn’t drink anywhere near as heavily as jinsol - and rarely even gets as buzzed as yves - so if she were to ever try her luck at getting within touching distance, the jig would be up.

hyejoo makes a compromise with herself, then, both in order to get “closer”, and in order to feel like she’s taking some kind of risk - she starts borrowing lip’s camera without her knowledge. every night they go out, hyejoo swaps out the digital camera’s memory card, equips it with a low-light lens, and helps herself to taking shots of lip with other people - their hands across her chest, or pressing between her legs, the way her ass presses into her temporary partner’s crotch. it was difficult to get clear shots, at first, given that the lighting conditions of most clubs is subpar to begin with, and then add in the factor of needing to hide the fact you even had a camera and were taking photos taking photos from, well, everyone, and it was weeks before hyejoo started to get that hang of it. once she did though, she formed quite the collection... and hye enjoys the photos of a humiliated yves and a soporific jinsol every bit as much as her hoard of snapshots featuring lip’s thighs.

but hyejoo knows she’s still missing out on a wealth of photo ops every time lip slips away towards some back room, accompanied by one or more of her nightly dance partners. those are the times she gets most frustrated, desperately palming away at her crotch while she reviews that night’s thumbnails before she’s uncomfortably spilling away - no satisfaction to be had, as her mind immediately wanders off to what she wants and cannot have. at this point, hyejoo is even depraved enough to start sneaking into the bathroom after yves and her girl toy, leaning up against the stall wall and listening to them go at it - just to have something else occupy her mind. it’s all too aggravating, and just when hyejoo’s frustrations are starting to seep into how she interacts with her unnies during the day, the routine is shattered.

“hyejoo-yah, get ready! you’re coming with us.” yves is the one to break the news, and hyejoo is left gaping in shock. nothing had changed between the times she had been denied and now - nothing that the unnies should have been aware of, anyhow. jinsol offers to lend her an appropriate outfit with a smile, teasing her about her usual choice of sweats. as her unnie hands her a pile of clothing, and it isn’t until hyejoo catches sight of a brand-new pair of silk boxer-briefs that she starts to understand whats going on. when she asks jinsol for complete clarification, she’s kind enough to treat hyejoo with the first real snippet of honesty that any of the unnies had ever given her, “lippie thought it was time to show you what you’ve been missing out on”.

#featured

0 notes

equipedefranceinfo · 6 years

Text

Bruno Genesio est-il un bon entraîneur ?

L'histoire débute par un clin d'œil: un coach nommé le jour du réveillon de Noël, affublé d'un surnom similaire à celui qui a tout gagné avec Messi. Pour beaucoup, Genesio n'est pas Bruno mais Pep. Un sobriquet à l'ironie certaine, triste honneur qui n'a pas de réel équivalent ailleurs en Europe. Leverkusen fut Neverkusen, et Everton Santos, dans les couloirs du PSG, était Jean-Claude Robigneau. Mais même Ravanelli, qui tenta de copier la méthode sans se faire comprendre de ses joueurs et ne gagnait jamais, n'a jamais été Fabrizio Lippi.

Le coaching et le contexte

Un fait, déjà: avec plus de trois ans d'ancienneté sur le banc lyonnais, Bruno Genesio dépasse la moyenne à son poste. Bien sûr, cela tient d'abord à la confiance de son président, qui aurait pu appuyer sur le détonateur à plusieurs reprises au cours de cette période – et l'aurait peut-être fait avec un coach n'étant pas du cru. Mais ne pas être lâché par son vestiaire est déjà une forme de réussite, relative mais notable, surtout en comparaison de la situation dans laquelle se trouve actuellement l'autre Olympique.

Contrairement aux joueurs, dont on estime le potentiel et la progression par rapport à leur âge, les entraîneurs sont vus comme des entités statiques binaires: bon/pas bon. Leur métier, basé sur l'intellect et la transmission, se juge à l'aune de ce qu'il se passe sur le terrain mais n'est pas réellement quantifiable (bonnes consignes et mauvaise transmission, l'inverse, ni l'un ni l'autre?). Souvent quinquagénaires, anciens joueurs et/ou multiplement diplômés, on suppose qu'ils ont assez de connaissance et de vécu pour proposer un produit fini. S'il est de qualité, alors ils sont considérés comme bons.

La réalité est pourtant bien plus nuancée. Rudi Garcia, dans l'impasse à Marseille, a gravi les échelons et gagné des titres en alliant une communication intelligente à un jeu abouti. Marcelo Bielsa, qui n'a pas réussi à Lille, n'a pas changé sa méthode et ses idées en allant à Leeds, avec qui il est en tête du Championship. À de rares exceptions près, aucun technicien n'est toujours la bonne personne au bon endroit, un talent supérieur transcendant les contextes. Et même Alex Ferguson, modèle de réussite durable, n'a gagné que deux coupes nationales entre 2003 et 2007.

Des résultats mais pas de titres

Le problème de l'OL, et donc de Bruno Genesio, est d'être régulier dans l'irrégularité. Il n'y a pas de bonnes et de mauvaises saisons, de sommets très hauts suivis de chutes encore plus grandes. Lyon est souvent bon dans les grands matches? Oui, mais il y a aussi la demi-finale aller de Ligue Europa face à l'Ajax et le huitième de finale retour contre le CSKA Moscou. Lyon souffre contre les petits? Il y a certes des sorties de route, mais pas assez d'accrocs pour parler de crise.

Manière et résultat: voilà le cœur du problème. La façon de faire est subjective (les fans du Barça et de l'Atlético n'ont par exemple pas les mêmes attentes) mais les points engrangés ne sont pas discutables. Quand, pour certains, leur total suffit à légitimer le travail d'un coach, les autres attendent plus. Et les Rhodaniens ont suffisamment gagné depuis le début du siècle pour que la question esthétique, secondaire chez les "losers", devienne importante.

youtube

Les chiffres, les voilà: deuxième, quatrième puis troisième lors des trois premières saisons sous les ordres de Genesio, Lyon est pour l'instant troisième. Le total de points, en augmentation constante (65, 67, 78), sera probablement en baisse, le compteur étant bloqué à 32 après dix-huit journées. Voilà pour le championnat. Demi-finalistes de C3, les Gones n'ont par ailleurs pas dépassé les quarts des coupes nationales et n'ont donc rien gagné depuis la Coupe de France 2012. Une disette à mettre en rapport avec la domination du PSG, mais rarement proche d'être stoppée.

Un potentiel inexploité

Bruno Genesio, dont les échecs à Villefranche-sur-Saône et Besançon n'ont pas aidé à bâtir une image de gagnant, n'a donc pas de palmarès. Pas beaucoup de charisme non plus, ce qui ne permet pas de détourner l'attention du terrain. Rolland Courbis, vainqueur d'un championnat de D2 et de deux coupes en Algérie en trente ans de coaching, soit moins que Victor Zvunka par exemple, pourra confirmer l'intérêt d'enrober des déclarations à la pertinence discutable d'une gouaille sympathique.

Toujours amené à jouer les premiers rôles en Ligue 1, le coach lyonnais a pour plus grand échec l'absence de podium en 2017, avec un retard sur Nice supérieur à l'avance sur Bordeaux, anonyme sixième. Et pour plus grande réussite le redressement opéré à son arrivée, même si la qualification pour les huitièmes de Ligue des champions, marquée par une victoire face au City de Guardiola, peut être le début d'une belle histoire.

Cette rencontre face à l'ogre anglais, double affrontement même puisque le nul du retour fut également abouti, ouvre paradoxalement la porte aux critiques. Jusque-là trop souvent proche de sa (faible) valeur plancher, avec une tendance à tourner en rond avec le ballon et mal couvrir ses zones sans, l'OL a alors rappelé que son plafond était très haut. Les détracteurs, qui devinaient l'énorme potentiel de cette équipe à la lecture de l'effectif, y ont eu la preuve de ses capacités. Et se demandent bien pourquoi elle évolue si loin de son maximum, semaine après semaine.

Logique difficile à suivre

On entre alors dans le cœur du problème: la gestion tactique d'un entraîneur qui n'a pas d'idées suffisamment fortes pour qu'on décèle une ligne directrice. Depuis sa prise de fonction, les exemples de ce qui ressemble à de l'improvisation sont nombreux: gestion du onze (Yanga-Mbiwa, Nkoulou, Mammana et Diakhaby alternant titularisation et tribune), des postes (Tolisso et Fekir baladés un peu partout) ou des systèmes (un différent à chaque match de C1 cette saison selon whoscored)…

1 - Depuis 2010, Bruno Génésio est le 1er entraîneur à prendre au moins 4 points lors de ses 2 rencontres de phase de groupes face à Pep Guardiola lors d'un même exercice de Ligue des Champions. OnlyOnePep. @OL pic.twitter.com/bGN63cPj2v

— OptaJean (@OptaJean) 27 novembre 2018

Pour symboliser le manque de continuité des choix faits depuis trois ans, impossibles à résumer en un seul article, il faut imaginer un curieux avec beaucoup de temps libre et d'ouverture d'esprit, qui cliquerait sur tous les hyperliens de la page wikipédia "tactique (football)" jusqu'à avoir cinquante onglets ouverts. Un scientifique mélangeant des produits pour tester chaque réaction, érigeant la sérendipité au rang de projet footballistique.

Parfois suffisamment audacieux pour faire des découvertes (Marçal en défense centrale) ou suffisamment attentif pour copier la formule des autres (Memphis en pointe comme en sélection, défense à trois calquée sur celle d'Hoffenheim). Mais jamais totalement à la pointe, le lancement d'Houssem Aouar dans l'entrejeu et le placement de Maxwel Cornet en pointe suivant de plusieurs mois l'injonction de nombreux suiveurs.

Comprendre le "pourquoi" n'étant pas facile, il faut imaginer des hypothèses. Deviner des sanctions contre certains quand ils sont subitement sortis de l'équipe, supposer qu'il y a un parti pris anti-routine dans le renouvellement permanent des fondations de jeu. Et c'est dans cette incompréhension que naît le débat sur le coach, dont on questionne d'autant plus vite les capacités quand on ne voit pas où il veut en venir – même s'il connaît a priori bien mieux le foot que tous ceux qui jugent son boulot.

La théorie du livret A

Alors, pour revenir à la question du titre, Bruno Genesio est-il un bon entraîneur? Il n'est déjà pas le plus mauvais, ce qui peut paraître bête à dire mais peut vite s'oublier quand Lyon rate complètement un match. Là où, au hasard, un José Mourinho peut se couper de son groupe et nettement sous-performer, lui arrive pour l'instant toujours à garder le cap.

Mais c'est aussi très loin d'être le meilleur, les performances ponctuelles ne masquant qu'en partie l'absence de projet de jeu reproductible qui ferait passer un cap à l'OL en championnat, lui qui dispose d'un effectif dont on mesurera la qualité dans quelques années – quand Ndombélé et consorts seront des références à leur poste. Au fond, dans un club dont la présence en bourse oblige à une gestion prudente, il est une sorte de livret A: rassurant car sans risque mais sans apport substantiel.

En refusant d'être dogmatique, Genesio laisse un cadre assez libre et donne les clés à ses joueurs. Cela leur permet de progresser dans la prise d'initiatives et d'intéresser beaucoup de grands clubs, mais expose le groupe à la variation des états de forme. Sans structure supérieure à celle de l'adversaire, il faut que les individualités soient en mesure de faire des différences... ce qui est plus facile avec de l'espace que contre des blocs bas, et explique aussi les difficultés en championnat.

À sa façon, Bruno Genesio est encore un entraîneur en formation qui, comme ses ouailles, réussit des matches et en rate d'autres. Un nouveau venu au plus haut niveau qu'une communication défensive dessert autant que des soutiens médiatiques à l'argumentation discutable. Et qui, même s'il commence à prendre le parti du jeu depuis quelques semaines, n'a jamais proposé suffisamment de spectacle pour qu'on en fasse un romantique incompris.

via http://bit.ly/2AyBHlQ

#equipedefrance #allezlesbleus #Article

0 notes