#it's almost 2 am my hair is wet and I'm tired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

double-vandammage · 7 months ago

Text

Title: Rude Awakening

Word count: 2,573

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Bret POV, Handjob, Blowjob, Alcohol

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Here is my first fanfic in probably 6 years. I'm so nervous about it, but I hope you Hartbreak shippers like it. I'm fairly new to this ship so please be gentle. 🥹 Thank you to the encouragement of my sis @taydaq, @imabillyami, @crxssjae, and @superkickme 😘

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in future fics, I do plan on writing more. 🫣

Bret sat silently by his motel window, watching the rain gently glide down the glass. What a shit day he had, it was only fitting the weather was also terrible. The promo he had just cut with Shawn weighed heavily on his mind. He was so tired of the little prick. Night after night he had to observe Shawn flamboyantly parade around the stage. Not only did he have to watch the annoying spectacle, but also endure the man occasionally shake his bare ass at the crowd. The fans ate it up and he couldn’t fathom why. They were close once, it seemed a lifetime away. Thunder cracked, startling him from his thoughts. The universe was telling him to relinquish any thoughts of Shawn for the rest of the evening. He didn’t want Shawn in his head more than was required, especially while he was alone in his motel room. Bret made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers and slowly he drifted to sleep.

Abruptly there was an aggressive and continuous rap at his door. Bret was barely able to open his eyes as he dazedly glanced at the bedside clock. The time read 2:00AM. “Who the fuck-?” he grunted as the knocking became louder. He whipped the blanket from his body while quickly swinging his legs over the mattress. “I’m coming dammit.” he spat, stumbling to the door in his sleepy stupor. He put his eye to the peephole. “Jesus Christ…” none other than a Heartbreak Kid disruption. “Hey! Big daddy cool! Open up big sexy!” Shawn half yelled, half giggled. Bret opened the door, “wrong room shithead. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Shawn was drenched. He had clearly spent some time in the rain. “Whoa.” Shawn raised both hands up in defense. “This isn’t Kevin’s room?” Bret made a show of moving his hands up and down his own frame, “clearly it isn’t you asshole, what are you drunk?” Shawn put his index finger and thumb together, “Mmmm…maybe just a pinch.”

Rolling his eyes, Bret took in Shawn’s appearance. He was soaked, so much so he had created a pool of moisture on the motel floor. He was a mess. “Do you know which room Kevin is in?” he asked, not wanting Shawn to be his problem this early in the morning. “Hmmm…well I thought this was his room…so I guess…no.” he said with his signature smile, chuckling to himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I bunked here tonight, eh Hitman?” Shawn asked while running a hand through his wet hair. Bret thought this must be some cruel joke the universe was playing on him. The last thing he wanted in his room was a drunk wet dog named Shawn Michaels, but he couldn’t let him wander aimlessly up and down the halls, slamming on random doors, and calling for big sexy.

Bret crossed his arms, “shit. Fine. Do not drip on anything.” Shawn grinned, “Thanks Hitman, you’re the best there is and ever will be.” he said, pushing Bret to the side and slapping him on the arm. Bret closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “The bathroom is to the left, I can get you something to change into.” He closed the door and turned to find Shawn already on the bed. “Are you fucking kidding me Michaels? You’re super fucking soaked. Get off the bed, now.” Shawn rose, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh man…I am?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “Uh, yeah. Get up.” Bret demanded. Shawn moved almost intentionally slow, the blankets getting more and more saturated.

“Dammit Shawn. Get your ass to the bathroom.” he said, grabbing Shawn’s arm, shoving him towards the open doorway. “Alright, alright. Ya don’t gotta be so touchy.” Shawn almost immediately began stripping off his flashy costume. He shook off his vest and began removing those hideous chaps he insisted on wearing. He kicked off his boots next and in doing so Shawn had noticed Bret leaning against the door frame observing. Bret in an instant knew exactly what he was about to do. Shawn turned, his back facing him and commenced shimmying his tights down to wiggle his ass at him. “Like what ya see Hitman?” he taunted. Bret kept his face stoic, but could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. “Stop that shit and just get cleaned up would you?” he urged moving away. Shawn smirked, pulling his tights completely off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Bret began pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed, discarding them onto the floor. He could hear the water start to run and eventually steam wafted outside the door. He pulled out a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats from his suitcase for Shawn to wear. Bret climbed back into the bed to try and get some more sleep before they had to be on the road again. The shower stopped and after a few minutes, he felt the empty side of the mattress shift. “Absolutely not boytoy.” he murmured. “Oh come on Bret, there’s not even a couch in here.” Shawn whined. “Not my problem. This is already obnoxious without having dry blankets, you are not sleeping up here.” Shawn in a child-like tantrum, huffed off the bed and onto the floor with one of the pillows. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Outside rain still poured and thunder intermittently boomed, a particularly loud burst was enough to rattle Bret awake again. The clock registered at 5:00AM. He could hear Shawn’s slow and steady breathing, surprised Shawn didn’t also wake. Rolling to the opposite side of the bed, Bret peered over. Shawn was lying on his side facing him. Long blonde hair fell down around his shoulder and pillow. His bangs draped over his eyes. Shawn was beautiful, anyone could see that. Bret found his eyes had lingered, observing the white t-shirt he let the man borrow had slightly uplifted, revealing a small glimpse of Shawn’s tanned stomach. Quickly he averted his gaze and rolled back over. Squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the sounds outside in an attempt to stifle an unresolved hunger he had no business feeling towards the Heartbreak Kid.

Unable to rest, he again got out of bed to reside by the window in the lone chair. He needed air. He opened the window just enough to feel the cool misting of rain against his face. Minutes later he heard Shawn stirring, a small groan escaping from him as he stretched. Shawn sat upright, dreamily looking at Bret. “Can’t sleep Hitman?” he mumbled. Bret ignored him, keeping his view to the window. “I gotta take a leak.” Shawn yawned as he shuffled towards the bathroom. Bret listened as Shawn fumbled around in the dark, hearing the toilet flush and sink run. He came out in the middle of another yawn, “Fuck me, I’m gonna be sore. You think people will believe me when I say I’m sore after spending the night in the Hitman’s room?” he laughed. “Don’t even joke about that shit Shawn.” Bret spat. “I’ll kick you out right now, don’t test me.”

Shawn cautiously made his way to stand in front of him. “Come on, would it be so terrible? Maybe this is exactly what you and I need.” Shawn said, reaching out a hand to brush the inky strands of hair from Bret’s face. Bret caught his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.” Shawn only invaded his space more, moving his leg to part Bret’s thighs. His free hand tilted Bret’s chin upward so he could meet his stare. “I know you look at me. Just like I knew you were looking at me over there.” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the bed. Bret jerked his head away irritated, but Shawn hadn’t released his grip. Shawn lowered himself, his mouth inches from his ear, “I like it when you look at me…”.

Bret felt many things for Shawn Michaels. Desire he could always snuff out, now he wasn’t so sure. Shawn closed the space between them, placing his lips to Bret’s temple. Bret involuntarily let go of Shawn’s wrist, finding he was nuzzling into Shawn as he continued to trail light kisses around the side of his face. “Touch me Bret…” Shawn sighed into him. Bret moved his hands to Shawn’s waist, tugging him forward so the younger man was situated between his thighs. Shawn moved his hands to cradle his face, lifting him slightly from the chair into an eager kiss. Bret let his own hands find their way under his t-shirt, running his fingers up Shawn’s back. “Come here.” Bret breathed against Shawn’s lips, guiding him to straddle his lap.

Shawn smiled into their kiss, feeling Bret’s growing excitement beneath him. Shawn slid his hand down, teasing at Bret’s erection. “I knew you always had a hart on for me.” he joked. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up Michaels?” Bret gasped in between Shawn’s stroking. Their mouths fought for the upperhand, Bret captured Shawn’s bottom lip and bit down roughly. Shawn withdrew, taken aback, “Damn hitman.” he snickered, testing his lip for blood. He hated Shawn and this was probably a huge mistake, but all he wanted to do was make Shawn shut up. Swiftly he grabbed Shawn by the thighs, hoisting him up, and threw him to the bed. Shawn bounced onto the mattress, promptly grabbing at Bret’s shirt to yank him forward. Bret landed a quick peck to Shawn’s mouth before moving to devour his neck. Strategically he removed the pesky white t-shirt from Shawn, creating a makeshift tie to bind Shawn’s wrists.

He ran his tongue down to Shawn’s shoulder; tasting sweat, motel body wash, and a hint of rain water. Not an ideal flavor, but damn did it taste good on Shawn. Bret flipped Shawn effortlessly onto his stomach, keeping hold of his bound wrists. He swept Shawn’s hair to the side, kissing the nape of his neck. Shawn arched into him, craning his neck to meet Bret’s lips. His fingers felt for the waistband of Shawn’s sweatpants, sliding his hand under the fabric, not surprised to find he wasn’t wearing underwear and grasping his cock. Letting go of his wrists, he tapped the side of Shawn’s hips, signaling Shawn to prop himself on his knees. Shawn read him easily as if inside the ring and elevated his backside, pushing against Bret’s groin, breaking their kiss and keeping his face down to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Hitman…I want you.” Shawn sputtered as Bret began to steadily pump Shawn’s dick. “Fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Bret.” he mumbled into the bed. How long had Shawn wanted him? Was it nearly as long as he wanted Shawn? Over the years he had indulged himself in the occasional sexy boy fantasy and every time he loathed himself for it. He was a complete hypocrite with each jab at Shawn for shooting that girly mag. Now he had Shawn under him, unapologetically jerking him off. He brought his free hand to clasp Shawn’s throat, easing him upward so he could relax against his chest. Bret continued his deliberate rhythm, relishing the low moans and the way Shawn began to thrust into Bret’s hand. “Jesus. Don’t stop.” Shawn whimpered, burying his face into Bret’s neck. He could tell Shawn was getting close, his panting becoming more rapid.

The feeling of Shawn nestled into his body was intoxicating. Sure, they had their physical history in the ring which was intimate in itself but maybe Shawn was right after all. Maybe this was exactly what they needed. What they couldn’t settle on the mat, they could settle behind closed doors. Bret pressed his lips to Shawn’s forehead, “You know I still hate you?” he said, his words muffled against Shawn’s skin and damp hair. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” The hold he had on Shawn’s neck became a little tighter. “Even with my…dick in your hand, you still…manage to be all business.” Shawn choked out as Bret’s pace began to quicken. Bret covered Shawn’s mouth, muting the wail expelling from him as he erupted into Bret’s hand. Shawn clawed at his hold with his own constrained wrists, his hips rutting wildly into Bret’s palm as he rode out his orgasm.

Bret released Shawn, letting him drop to the mattress. He lay there exhausted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Shawn twisted his wrists from the tied up shirt, easily exiting his confines. “Bret baby…” Shawn with eyes still glazed over, rolled to face him. “Please, let me make you feel good too.” he begged, crawling between Bret’s legs to play with the drawstrings of his sweats. He lifted Bret’s shirt, kissing gently at his stomach. The touch of Shawn’s lips pressing at his skin made him shiver and the thought alone of the blonde going down on him was damn near enough to make him come. Against his better judgment, he leaned back and let Shawn take control.

Shawn slid his sweats and underwear down, revealing his throbbing erection. Without much pause, Shawn took him into his mouth. He let his eyes flutter shut, Shawn clearly had done this a time or two. His mouth felt so warm, so good, his tongue hitting all the right places. He clutched at Shawn’s hair, allowing his fingers to entangle themselves. “God damn Michaels…” he managed to groan as Shawn licked up the length of his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Shawn was unrelenting as he held tightly to Bret’s thighs, keeping him in place as his hips bucked desperately into the heat of Shawn’s mouth. He couldn’t help the mangled cry Shawn managed to pry out of him as he came. “Holy shit.” he breathed, unable to form anything else articulate.

The rain seemed to intensify outside the window, brisk air filtering in and caressing their moist bodies. Shawn had positioned himself on top of Bret’s stomach, his chin resting on crossed arms. “I bet you didn’t hate me just now.” he purred. “Fuck you.” Bret smirked, propping a hand behind his neck. His dark eyes met Shawn’s baby blues. “What now?” Shawn asked. Bret’s other hand traveled down to brush the hair from Shawn’s face, tucking a rogue lock behind his ear. “I don’t know. We have to get up soon.” Shawn emitted a breathy sigh, “Let’s stay like this a bit longer.” he insisted. The Heartbreak Kid’s eyes closed as he leaned into the way Bret lazily threaded his fingers through his golden hair.

Internally Bret felt the need to run, this dangerously bordered on affection. He should shove the younger man away, tell him to get lost, and figure out what to do before their next show. However, his needs and wants were very different. He had said nothing would change, but deep down he knew neither of them believed that. Would they fall back into their rivalry or back into bed? What was to follow after, they couldn’t know now and they didn’t have to address it just yet. This sweet silence was preferred to all the bullshit they put each other through. Even if they had got it wrong, they could figure out the details later. Before the other knew it, the sound of the rain mixed with their slow breathing lulled them to sleep.

This quiet moment was theirs to keep.

#fanfic #fic #a03 #hartbreak #bretshawn #bret hart x shawn michaels #wwf ships #ns/fw #smut

55 notes · View notes

kyrsse · 19 days ago

Text

New friends

Chapter 3- Where the Ocean Meets the Soul ༊*·˚ notes: no past story for this chapter. Smut on the next chap but will prolly take long since I'm trying my best to make longer chapters and it's my first time writing one. enjoy! Oh and don't get confused by the past event in Chapter 2, it's the continuation of Qi Yu's storytelling in chap 1. this chapter is just rafayel mukbang, if only getting free food was that easy. ༊*·˚ tags: comedy, new characters, Caleb is a little boy, I really don't know how to tag. ༊*·˚ word count: 5,927 ༊*·˚ warnings: uhh discrimination? cursing, idk.

Year 2025

"I’m sorry, my love…" The words echoed faintly, like a whisper carried in the wind.

I opened my eyes and immediately gasped, my lungs burning from the sudden lack of air. Saltwater stung my eyes and I coughed, sputtering, as I struggled to sit up. My clothes were soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to my skin, and I was sprawled on the damp sand of a deserted-looking shore. The sun beat down, warm against my chilled skin, but the air was thick with the salty tang of the sea. I pushed myself up, wobbly, and tried to piece together the events that had landed me here.

“W-what happened…” I muttered, my voice hoarse. Flickering images danced behind my eyelids: the screech of tires, the horrifying crunch of metal, the world tilting… and then, the icy shock of the ocean engulfing me. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Oh my god! The car… I fell into the ocean!” A wave of panic washed over me, quickly followed by an overwhelming sense of relief. “Thank God! I thought I was going to dieeee!” I stood up, adrenaline coursing through me, and started jumping up and down, a shaky laugh escaping my lips. I spun around, taking in the desolate beauty of the beach – white sand, turquoise water, and swaying palm trees. It was almost idyllic, if not for the fact that I was completely alone and soaking wet.

“Oh, fuck…” My joyful reverie was abruptly shattered. “My phone! My phone!” I frantically patted my pockets, my heart sinking with each empty search. I rummaged through the soggy mess of my clothes, but it was no use. My phone, my wallet, everything was gone, likely lost to the depths of the ocean. “How am I supposed to get back?” I groaned, sinking back down onto the sand. I buried my face in my hands and then looked back up to the sky. "Maybe a cute little crab will come by and offer me a ride in his shell?" I giggled to myself trying to lighten my mood. A small hermit crab scuttled past, and I watched it, a small smile tugging at my lips. “If only…” I whispered. I imagined the crab wearing a tiny captain's hat, steering a seashell like a miniature boat. The image made me laugh again, a little brighter this time.

After what felt like hours of walking along the beach, hoping to find some sign of civilization, I finally spotted a building in the distance. As I got closer, I realized it was the hotel where I was staying. Exhaustion washed over me, but I pushed on, eager for a hot shower and some dry clothes.

As I stumbled into the hotel lobby, I was immediately greeted by the concerned face of my best friend, Evelyn. “Where have you been? I was so worried about you! You’re also not answering my calls,” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and exasperation. Her usually perfectly styled hair was slightly disheveled, and there were faint circles under her eyes. She must have been really worried.

“I… casually got into a car crash,” I said nonchalantly, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. “Thank the Gods I survived.” I gave her a weak smile, hoping she wouldn’t freak out too much.

Evelyn’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “Excuse me, what? Casually? Are you for real?” she sputtered, her hands flying to her hips. “I’ve only been gone for two or three days, and you’re already getting yourself into all sorts of trouble! By the way,” she continued, her tone softening slightly, “your father called. He wants you to come back home.”

I looked up, surprised. “Now are you joking?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The thought of facing my father after this ordeal was almost as terrifying as the car crash itself. I could already imagine the lecture and the disappointed look in his eyes. I slumped onto a nearby sofa, feeling utterly drained. Evelyn sat beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Oh honey, you look like you've seen a ghost. Or been chased by one!" she said, trying to lighten the mood. She then pulled me into a warm hug. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You need a hot shower and some food. And then," she added, with a serious look, "we are going to talk about this 'casual' car crash." I couldn't help but chuckle at her use of air quotes. Despite everything, I knew I was lucky to have her.

As I prepared for my shower, the warm promise of cleansing water a welcome thought after my ocean escapade, I began to undress. My soaked clothes peeled off, heavy and cold, leaving damp patches on the tiled floor. I unclasped my watch, placing it carefully on the vanity, followed by my earrings and the few rings I usually wore. As I reached for the clasp of my usual silver chain, my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

My eyes widened as I looked down. Nestled against my skin, nestled amongst the droplets of seawater still clinging to my neck, was a necklace I didn't recognize. It was a delicate chain, seemingly made of woven silver threads, holding a pendant shaped like a seashell. The shell itself was crafted from a mesmerizing sapphire, its deep blue surface swirling with lighter shades, like captured ocean depths. It shimmered under the bathroom light, catching and refracting the light in a way that was almost hypnotic.

I stared at it, my brow furrowed in confusion. I was certain I hadn't been wearing it before the accident. I distinctly remembered only wearing my usual jewelry. Where did it come from? Had it somehow gotten tangled around my neck in the ocean? The thought seemed improbable. The clasp was intricate, a tiny, almost invisible hook, and it was fastened securely. It couldn't have just randomly attached itself.

Even though the necklace was completely unfamiliar, a strange sense of familiarity tugged at me. It was a subtle feeling, a whisper in the back of my mind, like a half-forgotten dream. I felt drawn to it, as if it held some hidden meaning, a secret waiting to be unlocked. It was beautiful, undeniably so, but there was something more to it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I reached for the clasp, my fingers hovering over the tiny hook. I hesitated. An odd feeling settled over me, a gentle but insistent nudge telling me not to remove it. It was a strange premonition, a gut feeling that I couldn't ignore. I lowered my hand, my gaze still fixed on the sapphire shell. It seemed to pulse with a faint inner light, as if it were alive.

I shivered, a sudden chill running down my spine despite the warm air of the bathroom. It was just a necklace, I told myself, trying to rationalize the strange sensations. But the feeling persisted, a quiet insistence that I should leave it be. I decided to trust my instincts, however illogical they seemed.

“Maybe it’s a gift from a mermaid,” I murmured to myself, a small smile playing on my lips. I imagined a beautiful mermaid, with flowing hair and shimmering scales, placing the necklace around my neck as I drifted unconscious in the ocean. The image was fantastical, of course, but it brought a sense of comfort. I chuckled softly, picturing the mermaid offering me a tiny cup of seaweed tea and a seashell phone. I imagined her saying in a bubbly voice "Oh dear, you seem to have had a rough day! Here's a little something to remember me by!"

I turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over me. As the water washed away the remaining salt and sand, my fingers traced the outline of the sapphire shell. The strange sense of familiarity lingered, and I knew, deep down, that this necklace was more than just a piece of jewelry. It was a mystery, a puzzle waiting to be solved, and I had a feeling it was somehow connected to my near-death experience. I resolved to keep it on, at least for now, and see what secrets it held.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

I finally arrived in my hometown, Linkon. The familiar cityscape, the bustling streets, the scent of street food wafting through the air – it all brought a wave of comforting nostalgia. I took a taxi straight to my apartment building, eager to finally relax after my chaotic trip. As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, I was immediately greeted by a sound I knew all too well: a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream.

“AHHHHHHHH YOU’RE HERE AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO INFORM ME!! I missed you so much!!” Tara shrieked, launching herself at me like a furry missile. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I stumbled back, laughing, but returned the hug just as enthusiastically.

“I missed you more, Tara, but what are you doing here?” I managed to gasp out once she finally released me. Tara grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Uhmm, actually, there are two of us staying here.” As she said this, a familiar figure emerged from the living room. It was Xavier, with his signature light blonde hair and a gentle smile playing on his lips. He was carrying a half-eaten bag of chips and looked slightly sheepish.

“You’re back… I… I missed you,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing a light pink as he approached me. He gave me a quick, hesitant hug, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment before finally settling on my shoulders.

“Xavvv missed you so much, you know. He couldn’t stop saying, ‘Ahh, I miss herrr,’ ” Tara teased, exaggerating Xavier’s voice and batting her eyelashes dramatically. Xavier’s blush deepened, and he immediately reached out to cover Tara’s mouth with his hand, his eyes wide with embarrassment. I couldn’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Tara, stop saying nonsense, M knows that’s not true and that I only see you as a friend, right?” Xavier stammered, his eyes darting towards me.

“LALALALAAA NONSENSE!” Tara interrupted, pulling Xavier’s hand away and sticking her tongue out at him. She then turned to me, wiggling her eyebrows. "He totally misses you though!" she whispered conspiratorially.

“Haha, guys, you can stop now,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you both doing here?” I looked from Tara to Xavier, a genuine curiosity in my eyes.

“Well, hehe, sorry M,” Tara began, looking slightly sheepish. “We just kinda got kicked out of our apartments—”

“Tara told me she knew someone who had the rare plushie you wanted so badly and would buy it for me as long as I stayed here with her, oh, and that you went on a trip, so she told me she’d take advantage of your bathtub while you were away,” Xavier blurted out, interrupting Tara’s explanation. He looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, as if he hadn't just revealed Tara's entire scheme. Tara glared at him, her cheeks flushed.

“Xav, you have such a big mouth, huh?” Tara groaned, turning back to me with an apologetic smile. “M! I’m your best friend, right? And I couldn’t help it. Your bathtub has such a nice viewww,” she said, trying to salvage the situation. She then winked at me, hoping to lighten the mood.

I considered their explanations for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s okay,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “The both of you can stay here as long as you like. The place is pretty big, so it can get lonely sometimes.”

Tara let out another squeal of joy, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Thank you, M!!! I love you so much!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me again and peppering my face with quick kisses.

Xavier, who had been watching the display with a slightly amused expression, stepped in and gently separated us. “Alright, alright, that’s enough affection for one minute,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. He then picked up my bags, which I had dropped by the door. “Let’s go unpack your things. I’ll help you,” he offered, giving me a warm smile. I smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth spread through me. Despite the chaotic welcome, it felt good to be home, surrounded by my two best friends. It was clear that even though they had taken advantage of my absence, they had missed me just as much as I had missed them.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

I was carefully placing my clothes in the closet, neatly folding each item before stacking it on the shelves. Xavier was in the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans and the burnt aroma of something was filling the apartment. Tara was sprawled across my bed, scrolling through her phone, her eyes occasionally flicking over to me with a mischievous glint.

“Sooooo what happened to that perverted guy you told me?” she suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence. I paused, a folded shirt in my hands, and looked up at her, a puzzled expression on my face.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely confused. I racked my brain, trying to recall any such incident, but nothing came to mind. I resumed my task, placing the shirt on the shelf.

“You know,” Tara persisted, a wide grin spreading across her face, “the French dude who went into your closet and was sniffing your… thongs.” She burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell?!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in incredulity. “I don’t wear thongs! Plus, I don’t know what you’re talking about. No such thing like that happened back in Bordeaux.” I stared at her, trying to decipher if she was serious or just pulling my leg. The image she’d painted was so absurd that I almost couldn’t believe she was being serious. Had I somehow completely blocked out this bizarre encounter? It seemed impossible.

“Yes, you did!” Tara insisted between gasps of laughter. "You told me about him! He was wearing your favorite hoodie!" She mimicked sniffing something, making exaggerated sniffing noises, and then pretending to faint from the "overpowering scent".

"Tara, seriously, I think you're mixing me up with someone else," I said, shaking my head. "I would definitely remember something like that. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence." I paused, a thought striking me. "Maybe you're thinking of a story you read or saw in a movie?"

“No, but seriously, I’m telling the truth,” Tara insisted, her brow furrowed in concern. I sat up straighter, looking at her intently. I’d known Tara for years, and I could usually tell when she was pulling my leg. This time, however, she seemed genuinely perplexed. It didn’t look like she was lying.

“Maybe I did lose my memory,” I conceded, “but if that were the case, shouldn’t I have forgotten everything by now?” I moved to sit beside her on the bed, a growing unease settling in my stomach.

“You even sent me a picture!” Tara exclaimed, whipping out her phone and scrolling through her messages with frantic energy. “See! Here it is!” She shoved the phone in my face, her finger pointing at a message thread.

My eyes scanned the screen, and I nearly choked. The message read:

“Hey Tara, I got a pervert in my closet. I caught him sniffing my undies while I was painting… Something I wasn’t expecting here in France!”

Below the text was a photo. A photo of a guy with dark purple hair, tinged with pink, tied to a chair. His brows were furrowed in a deep frown, and he was glaring at the camera as a hand, presumably mine, held up his chin. Oh. So she wasn’t joking.

“I didn’t send anything like that, though. I don’t remember at all,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Denial was battling with a creeping sense of bewilderment.

“Maybe I forgot about it because of the car crash,” I mumbled, grasping at the only explanation that made any sense.

“YOU GOT INTO A CAR CRASH?!?!?!” Tara shrieked, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. The sudden outburst caused Xavier’s head to pop out from the kitchen doorway, a wooden spoon still clutched in his hand. He had flour smudged on his cheek and looked like a startled deer.

“Who crashed the car?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. He rushed into the room, abandoning his culinary duties. The smell of something slightly burnt wafted in after him.

"It was me, kinda. I mean, the car kinda crashed itself into the ocean," I explained, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. "But that's not the point! Tara's showing me this message I apparently sent her about catching a pervert in my closet in France, but I have absolutely no recollection of it!"

Xavier's eyebrows shot up. "In your closet?" He looked at Tara, who just nodded, still looking shocked from the car crash revelation.

"Undies," Tara supplied helpfully.

Xavier blinked, then chuckled. "Only you could manage to attract a closet-dwelling, underwear-sniffing pervert while on vacation in France,"

"It's not funny!" I protested, crossing my arms. "I genuinely don't remember any of this!"

"Okay, okay," Xavier said, composing himself. "So, let me get this straight. You were in France, you were painting, you caught a purple-haired man sniffing your… unmentionables, you tied him to a chair, you sent a picture to Tara, and then you got into a car crash? And you remember none of this?"

"That's about the gist of it," I confirmed, feeling more confused than ever. I looked at Tara, who was now scrolling through her phone again.

“Tara, can you send me the picture?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite the unsettling nature of the situation. I needed to see this man, this Jean-Pierre, for myself.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with a new message. I opened it and stared at the photo. It was indeed the same image Tara had shown me earlier: the purple-haired man tied to a chair, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. I zoomed in, scrutinizing his face, trying to jog my memory. His features were… not entirely unfamiliar, but I couldn’t place him. He had a strong jawline and those purple locks that were impossible to miss.

Then, my gaze landed on something that made my breath catch in my throat. Around his neck, nestled against my hoodie, was a necklace. A seashell pendant, crafted from a shimmering sapphire, hung from a delicate silver chain. It was… identical to the one I was wearing.

I instinctively reached up and touched the cool sapphire shell resting against my own skin. I held it up, comparing it to the one in the photo. There was no doubt. They were the same. The same intricate silver chain, the same swirling patterns within the sapphire, even the same tiny, almost invisible clasp.

A shiver ran down my spine. This wasn’t just a random pervert I’d supposedly encountered in France. This man was connected to me somehow, connected through this very necklace. He must be someone important, or perhaps even the original owner of this strange piece of jewelry.

A wave of confusion washed over me. How could I have forgotten such a significant encounter? How could I have forgotten him? The pieces of the puzzle weren’t fitting. The car crash… the lost memories… the purple-haired Frenchman… the matching necklaces… it was all swirling together in my mind, creating a confusing and disorienting picture.

A sudden thought struck me: maybe he was the one who saved me from the car crash. Maybe he pulled me from the wreckage and placed the necklace around my neck as some kind of… memento? A thank you? A reminder?

The possibilities raced through my head, each one more perplexing than the last. Had he been watching over me? Was this some kind of destined encounter? Was he a guardian angel in a purple wig?

I shook my head, trying to clear the chaotic thoughts. I was getting ahead of myself. There were too many unanswered questions, too many missing pieces. I needed more information. I needed to remember.

Exhaustion finally started to take over. It had been a long and eventful day, and my mind was reeling from the revelations. I decided to push the questions aside for the moment. “Oh well,” I murmured to myself, switching off the light. “I’ll just think about it tomorrow.” But as I drifted off to sleep, the image of the purple-haired man and the shimmering sapphire shell remained etched in my mind, a persistent reminder of the mystery that lay ahead.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

A lone Lemurian was on a mission. Clutching a large, iridescent seashell like a prized trophy (or maybe a very uncomfortable clutch), he’d been swimming for three solid months. Three months! That’s a lot of saltwater and prune-like fingers. He was desperately searching for “Linkon”. He wasn’t entirely sure what Linkon was – a city? A mythical land of endless seaweed snacks? – but he was determined to find it.

Spotting a fisherman’s boat bobbing on the waves, he propelled himself forward, his powerful tail propelling him through the water. He surfaced near the boat, clinging to the side like a very enthusiastic, slightly scaly barnacle. “Uhm, hello,” he gurgled, trying to project an air of casual seafaring. “I would like to ask if Linkon is near?”

The fishermen, understandably, gasped. One nearly dropped his fishing rod, another choked on his sandwich, and the third just stared, his jaw hanging open like a fish gasping for air. “Oh, it’s still kinda far away,” one of them finally managed to stammer, pointing vaguely north. “Just go north and ask other people if you’re near.” It was the kind of direction you give when you really, really don’t want to get involved.

The Lemurian, oblivious to their shock, simply nodded, thanked them politely, and began to swim again. The fishermen watched him go, their eyes wide. Then, the realization dawned. “Hey!” one of them yelled. “Are you really gonna swim from here to Linkon?!” He paused, squinting at the disappearing figure. “I-is that a mermaid?!?!?!”

“Oh my,” another one whispered, his eyes gleaming with dollar signs. “It is such a big discovery! We’re going to be rich!!!!” He started doing a little jig on the deck, bumping into the fishing nets.

The third fisherman, clearly the voice of reason (and possibly suffering from a mild concussion), smacked him on the head with a large, flapping fish. “Dumbass,” he muttered. “What makes you think they would believe us? We’ll sound like a bunch of crazy sea dogs!”

A few more days passed, and the determined Lemurian was still at it. His tail was aching, his skin was a delightful shade of sunburned lobster red, and he was starting to hallucinate schools of dancing krill. But he refused to give up. He was a Lemurian on a mission!

Finally, he spotted a group of elderly ladies cleaning the ocean shore. He also noticed a pile of clothes and two mismatched pairs of slippers – one red, one blue – lying on the sand. An idea sparked in his waterlogged brain. He scrambled onto the beach, hastily pulling on the clothes and slipping his webbed feet into the mismatched slippers. He looked, to put it mildly, like a total maniac. But he figured it was better than shocking the grannies with his true, scaly form.

He shuffled towards them, still clutching his seashell. “Uh, hey,” he said, trying to sound as human as possible. He still had a bit of a gurgle in his voice, though. “Where is Linkon? Is it near?”

The old ladies looked at him with a mixture of amusement and concern. One of them smiled warmly. “Ohh yes, we’re just about to head there now,” she said. “Would you like to come with us?”

The Lemurian beamed, his slightly crazed expression softening into one of pure relief. “Sure,” he gurgled happily. Finally! Linkon! He just hoped they had some very tasty food.

During the train ride, the Lemurian was utterly captivated by everything around him, his wide-eyed wonder causing a series of minor, but amusing, disruptions. He’d point at flashing lights with excited gurgles, try to catch the reflections of buildings in the train windows, and even attempt to have a conversation with a stranger. When they finally arrived in Linkon, he bid a grateful goodbye to the old ladies and set off to find her. But the city was enormous, a teeming mass of people and buildings. How was he supposed to find one specific person in this big city? He wandered aimlessly, growing increasingly tired. “Did I really make the right decision coming here?” he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

His stomach then let out a loud rumble, drawing his attention to a nearby fish tank. The fishes inside, sensing his presence, darted away in a flurry of fins and scales, clearly terrified of becoming a quick snack. Seeing their panic, the Lemurian took a step back. “Fine, I won’t eat you guys,” he mumbled, feeling a pang of sympathy. “But I’m so hungry. Do you know any other places where I can get food?” The fishes just stared back at him, their tiny fishy mouths opening and closing silently. He sighed again and wandered off, his stomach still growling.

He stumbled upon a group of students harassing a younger girl. “Hey, where’s your money? I’m hungry!” one of them demanded, snatching a few bills from her trembling hand. The Lemurian watched this exchange with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Oh, he thought. So that’s how you acquire food in this land.

He then began searching for a lone, vulnerable-looking child. He spotted a brown-haired kid walking alone, clutching his backpack tightly. The Lemurian approached him, casually plucked the backpack from his grasp, and started walking alongside him. The kid looked up at him, bewildered. “Hey, give me my bag back,” he said, his voice small. The Lemurian ignored him. “Give me your money. I’m hungry. Then I’ll give you your bag,” he stated matter-of-factly. The kid, surprisingly feisty, kicked the Lemurian in the shin. “Hey!” the Lemurian yelped, clutching his leg in mock pain. “That’s not very nice!”

“And it wasn’t very nice of you to take my bag and ask for money,” the kid retorted, snatching his backpack back. “Come with me.” He turned and started walking, and the Lemurian, still slightly rubbing his shin, obediently followed. They arrived at a nearby convenience store and sat down at a small table. The kid sipped on banana milk, while the Lemurian happily slurped down a cup of instant noodles.

“Hey, big guy,” the kid said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What you did back there wasn’t really nice. Promise me you won’t do it again, okay? People work very hard for their money. You can’t just take it whenever you please. Did you know that my grandma’s hands hurt from knitting stuff just so I can have a nice life?” He launched into a heartfelt lecture, explaining the complexities of earning a living. The Lemurian listened attentively, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay…” he said slowly, when the kid finally paused for breath. “But why do you knit stuff?” he asked, genuinely confused.

The kid sighed, a world-weary expression on his young face. “You really don’t know anything, huh? To survive, of course. That’s why I need to go to school, so when I finally become a DAA fighter pilot, I’ll protect my grandma and give her a good life.” He paused, then extended a hand. “By the way, what’s your name? I’m Caleb.”

“Name?” the Lemurian echoed, tilting his head.

“It’s what you call yourself, or what other people call you,” Caleb explained patiently. “Are you that naive?”

“I don’t have one…” the Lemurian mumbled, returning to his noodles.

“But do you know someone named… Mc?” he asked Caleb after a moment of thought.

“No, why? Is she your girlfriend?” Caleb asked.

“What’s a girlfriend?” the Lemurian asked, then added, “But she told me I’m her husband.”

Caleb’s eyes widened. “And I’m here to find her,” the Lemurian continued, “She told me she lives here.”

Caleb patted him awkwardly on the back. “Maybe she divorced you,” he offered gently. “But it’s okay, there are other girls in the world.” He continued to pat the Lemurian’s back, while the Lemurian just stared at him, utterly bewildered by this new concept of “divorce.”

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Days blurred into one another, each spent with the Lemurian diligently searching Linkon, but still no sign of his mysterious “Mc.” He wandered the bustling city, his oversized seashell clutched tightly until he stumbled upon a charming little café. Through the window, he saw a wonderland of coffee, pastries, and sweets – a veritable feast for his rumbling stomach. His mouth watered as he pressed his face against the glass, his breath fogging the window.

Unfortunately, his reverie was interrupted by a sharp voice. “Hey! Beggar! Go somewhere else! It’s not like you can afford any of this,” a worker snapped, shooing him away with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The Lemurian’s good mood evaporated. He bristled at the insult, a scowl forming on his face. He was about to give the rude worker a piece of his mind (or whatever the Lemurian equivalent of a piece of mind was) when a deep, manly voice intervened. “It’s okay,” the voice said smoothly. “I’ll take care of him.” The worker, suddenly flustered and embarrassed, stepped aside, muttering a hasty apology.

“Come inside,” the man said, turning to the Lemurian with a warm, friendly smile. “My treat.” The Lemurian’s eyes widened, then sparkled with amusement. This was a turn of events he hadn’t expected. They entered the café, the man pausing to deliver one last, pointed remark to the flustered worker. “Oh, and before we sit down, kindly inform your manager that I’d like to speak with them. Their customer service needs a lot of improvement.” The worker gulped nervously, avoiding his gaze.

They settled at a nearby table, the man gesturing for the Lemurian to take a seat. “Just order whatever you’d like,” he said, pulling out his phone and minding his own business. “I’ll pay for everything.”

The Lemurian, presented with such an opportunity, didn’t hesitate. He pointed at a dizzying array of pastries, cakes, and other delicious-looking treats, his eyes shining with pure joy. The man chuckled softly from his side, not even flinching at the sheer quantity of food being ordered. After the waiter left to inform the kitchen of the order, the Lemurian turned to his benefactor, curiosity bubbling within him.

As they waited for their order, the Lemurian couldn’t resist asking, “Why did you do that? Aren’t you supposed to… you know… save your money? Or do you knit a lot more stuff than Caleb’s grandma that you have many monies to give?”

The man smiled at his innocent question. “You’re funny,” he chuckled. “But not everyone earns money by knitting. I’m a doctor, and it’s my responsibility to take care of the people around me.” He set down his coffee, his gaze thoughtful.

“Caleb… such a liar,” the Lemurian muttered under his breath. Then, his eyes widened as a sudden realization struck him. “What is your name?” he asked, his voice full of urgency.

The man looked up from his phone. “Call me Zayne,” he replied, introducing himself with a polite nod. “And you?”

“Oh, I don’t have one…” the Lemurian said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I’m still thinking about what to name myself.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Zayne said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Just then, the worker from earlier returned, pushing a trolley laden with the Lemurian’s extravagant order. He was about to dig in with gusto when a small voice echoed in his memory.

“Remember, when someone does something good for you, say thank you.” It was Caleb’s voice, the memory of his earnest lecture still fresh in his mind.

He looked back at Zayne, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Thank you, Zayne, for the yummy food!” he said sincerely, before finally diving into the mountain of treats. Zayne smiled, then shot a pointed glare at the worker, who was now shrinking under his gaze. The worker, realizing the error of her ways, immediately dropped to her knees beside Zayne, begging for forgiveness. But the Lemurian, surrounded by a sugary paradise, was too engrossed in his feast to notice the drama unfolding at his feet. He was in his element, finally enjoying the delights of Linkon, one delicious bite at a time.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The doorbell rang, a cheerful little trill that did not match the sudden knot of anxiety in my stomach. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Cautiously, I approached the door and peered through the peephole. A tall figure stood on the other side, a shock of white hair gleaming under the porch light. Sylus. My stomach did a little flip-flop, not exactly of excitement. I opened the door to find him beaming, holding a bouquet of red roses, so large they practically obscured his face, and with a small mountain of gift bags and boxes piled at his feet. It looked like he’d raided a department store. “Happy birthday, sweetheart” he announced, sweeping me into a hug and planting a kiss squarely on my cheek. It was a bit too much, a bit too close, and I felt my cheeks warming. From the corner of my eye, I saw Xavier, who had been quietly reading in the living room, abruptly stand and disappear down the hallway, his jaw tight. I pulled back from Sylus’s hug, feeling a little flustered.

I pulled away from Sylus’s hug, trying to regain my composure. “Thanks, Sylus,” I stammered, clutching the bouquet of flowers. They smelled amazing, a mix of sweet and floral scents. “I really appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I added, gesturing towards the ever-growing pile of gifts.

“Nonsense, kitten,” Sylus chuckled, his eyes twinkling. He seemed utterly unfazed by my slightly awkward demeanor. I stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Come in,” I offered.

Sylus, however, remained rooted to the spot, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No need,” he said, his smile widening. “We’re going out, Get ready.” He winked, leaving me standing there, a bouquet of flowers in my arms, a blush on my cheeks, and a distinct feeling that my birthday was about to take a very unexpected turn. It seemed like my birthday was going to be more exciting than I had anticipated.

22 notes · View notes

jesuswasgay · 10 months ago

Text

We’re walking home from girls’ nite at the gay bar. You’re sober but I might be a little drunk. We make light conversation and I smoke a joint as we walk. When we get to my house, it’s dark & quiet. I guess everybody’s out I say. We grab snacks & you follow me upstairs to my room.

“You can crash if you want,” I say. “I can lend you a t shirt to sleep in.”

“I’m not really that tired yet,” you respond.

“Me neither.” We sit in silence on the bed for a minute. I can feel the energy emanating off your body. I want to kiss you so badly. Or am I drunk? I get up & grab us some comfy clothes.

After changing, i put on some mellow electronica & sneak a glance at your face. You seem content, playing on your phone relaxed against a pile of pillows on my bed. I sit down & scoot a little closer to you so I can lay my head on the pillow next to you. We lie there suspended for a few minutes before you set your phone down & turn towards me.

“Hi,” you whisper playfully.

“Hi,” I breathe. You look so pretty wearing my old faded Lakers shirt with your hair down around your shoulders. I can’t help it; I have to snuggle up a little closer to you. I reach my hand around your waist. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You instinctively move your body closer to me. Ohmigod. Feeling you next to me is my new favorite thing. I lean in & kiss you softly. You kiss me back. Wow. You taste like candy. Your lips are soft and gentle. We keep kissing. Your tongue teases mine. I want to stay like this forever, holding you, kissing you.

I run my hand down your back & up your side. You let out a tiny gasp as i gently trace my fingers across your chest, just above your tits. I lightly trace the outline of your nipples over your tshirt.

You bite your lip & squirm. I slow my touch, enjoying your discomfort. Your hands wander closer to my waist & I’m instantly wet as fuck. I feel your girldick harden under your panties.

"Can...can I touch you?" I whisper.

"Yes please," you murmur. I let my fingers trace the outline of your hard girlcock. You slip a hand inside my panties. I feel myself get even wetter as you massage my clit. I pull down your panties & take your girldick in my hands, running my fingers over the tip. You slip a finger inside me, then 2.

My whole body shakes as you brush against my g spot while thrusting your hand in & out of my cunt. I work my hand up & down your girldick, twirling my fingers around the length & letting them linger on the underside.

"Oh my fucking god I'm going cum." I moan.

"Me too," you whisper. I feel you moan harder as I touch you. I'm straining against your hand thrusting deep inside me. I'm almost there when I feel you start to explode. Your orgasm pushes me over the edge into oblivion. I cum so hard I see stars.

We lie against the pillows giggling softly & cuddling in the afterglow.

"Did I ever tell you you're amazing?" I say as I pull you in closer to me so I can feel you breathe.

"All the time, but you can tell me again," you say sleepily.

#wlw #lesbian #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning #sapphic #wlw nsft #wlw romance #wlw smut #trans wlw #trans nsft #queer romance #queer nsft #wlw ns/fw #jesuswasgay

85 notes · View notes

leafzu · 2 years ago

Text

❝ And I'll be right here when

wake up, Right by your side❞

Body half hurt from laying on your left side for too long. Track of time forgotten. 1:31 am. Have to wake up at 7:30 am. Sit at the same boring study table, zoning out and getting up after 2 hours of just staring at the books, not memorizing a single word.

All day spent inside these four walls. Only time you leave is when you have practice exams at your tuition classes. As soon as you step foot inside the class, you wanna go home. Sitting for the exam, you start missing your boring study desk.

Drops of tears on the dry and empty exam papers. Pulling out your mask and putting it on so no one sees you crying.

I wanna go home.

2:15 am.

Still no sign of sleep. Just blurry vision as tears after tears swell up and fall down on either side as you lay flat on your back on your empty bed.

When did it get this lonely?

Mindlessly scrolling through pictures on the internet. Viewing people's story. 10+ unanswered dms. That one friend telling you all about the exciting things happening to her.

“I'm getting a haircut today. Ooh! And also a new haircut. *inserts picture* It's going to be like this. I'm so excited!”

“Going to have picnic with co-workers! My job is the best.”

"DID I TELL YOU I'M GOING TO BE WORKING AS AN ASSISTANT FOR A CELEBRITY MODEL?”

“I'm SO excited! I'm going to see the movie today!!”

Ah yes, the new movie. You were excited too. So happy that you were looking forward to see it forgetting all about the upcoming long exams.

- That's great

[Sent]

Replying to texts when you don't even want to open them. Just so you don't seem rude a few extra words and some emojies.

The door to the room creaks open. He slowly walks in. Careful not to wake you up.

Wake who up? You weren't even asleep.

He slowly got in bed beside you. Hugging your waist and pulling you closer. You try your best not to make a sound and cry silently.

But the heavy rise and fall of your chest and he knew you weren't as peacefully asleep as he hoped you would be.

“Why are you still awake?”

No response.

“It's almost 3 am. I know you're awake. Why aren't you-

You sit up on the bed.

“I don't want to sleep.”

Wet cheeks getting more wet from the new flowing tears. All everyone ever tells you these days is to eat, sleep, take breaks and study. You're tired of it. You're tired of everyone and everything. Exams aren't helping, no one is helping. Loss of confidence, feelings of loneliness. Seeing others your age going out and having fun. Doing the latest trends. Earning money. Even one of your classmates went to see the new movie despite the upcoming exams. She went with her sister. Your sister lives miles away from you. You didn't tell Nanami because he's an actual busy man unlike you, who sits on the same dull spot everyday and just zones out.

I can't do this anymore.

“Love, are you al-”

“I don't wanna talk about this.”

Voice broken from crying. You try your best to talk and suppress the ache in your throat.

“Let's just go to bed”

He grabs your hand and turns your face towards him. Puffy red eyes and disheveled hair. You looked more tired than him.

“Did you take a nap after eating?”

You cry out more shaking your head.

“You woke up so early and then gave a 2 hour exam. You didn't rest after coming home?”

You didn't look at him. Just soft sniffles and tears.

He pushes your head gently towards his chest and holds you. Your soft cries was the only thing he heard in the dimly lit room. Rubbing your back with one hand and running his other one through your hair.

“Tell me.”

You cry harder burying your head in his chest.

“I'm here to listen.”

Your cries slowly soothe down.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “You've been feeling lonely haven't you?” You don't reply. Just your head on his chest, hugging him tightly. “I've been so busy, I didn't realize I was neglecting you. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you-”

“It's not you!”

You finally meet his eyes with your red ones. Of course it's not him. It never was him. In fact, he's the only one helping you go through all this despite being stressed himself. You sometimes felt guilty for always being this needy for him. For always wanting him by your side. For always just... wanting him.

“It's everything and everyone around me. I just can't do this anymore. People my age are out there having fun and actually doing things, while I'm here all day everyday sitting in the same spot studying for meaningless exams which are draining me mentally and physically.”

Nanami listens to you intently as he always does. Gentle rubs on your back.

“I'm happy for my friends. I really am. It's just... I'm not feeling very happy at the moment so..”

You felt terrible for feeling that way. Feeling jealous of your friends who were having fun and doing things you looked forward to doing. You know it's not their fault but you can't control your feelings either.

“I feel like a cold hearted person."

More tears.

You said nothing and just laid down curling up, facing the other way. Wishing the tears would just stop.

A strong hand curling up around your waist pulls you closer to him. Gently caressing your hair and hugging you tightly.

Nanami knows your 'leave me alones' mean 'don't leave, stay.' He knows when you push him away, you want him to pull you closer. He knows when you don't 'want to talk about it' you actually want to say a lot about it.

“Sometimes.” his deep soothing voice which you find so comforting, so close against your ears . Hands still caressing through your hair. “Not feeling happy is okay.”

“Being envious of others doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone is always envious of someone. The people you see on the internet having a good time, they're also envious of someone or something. Doesn't mean they're a bad person. It's just.. natural feelings.”

“You're having a stressful time, and I understand. I understand your feelings. You don't have to push yourself and you are not a bad friend. Sometimes,” his rough big hands feel so soft when he's caressing your hair like this, while you hide away your face in the pillow.

“We just don't want to hear about other people's life, and it's totally okay. Does not mean you wish bad upon them or anything. It just means, you're not in a good mental state at the moment.”

“It does not make you a cold hearted person.”

“It makes you someone who's trying her best to do things right."

You turn around and burry your face in his neck while he holds you tightly.

“I'm just so tired Kento,” you cry into his chest. “I feel like I'm missing out on so much. People promise to make plans with me and then cancel last minute and make it with someone else.”

“You can make plans with me you know. How about we take a break tomorrow and go see that movie-” “I don't want to.”

You break away from his embrace and lay on your side, facing him. Your face. It looked so worn out. Nanami wiped the tears away and caressed your cheek.

“I won't be able to enjoy it plus it's not about just the movie.” “I know.”

He really does know.

Your phone beeped. A new notification.

But before you can reach for the phone, Nanami was quick to get it himself.

[Just finished watching the movie! OH AND I ALSO GOT MY HAIR CUT!! 🤭✨

*photo*

What do you think?]

He sighs.

"Who is it?"

Nanami simply switches off the phone and puts it on the bedside table.

"No one."

Deep down he knew you didn't want to reply to the message either. You thanked him in the back of your mind for not giving you the phone.

"Thank you."

3:45 am

His arms hold you tightly, face buried in your hair while you face the other way. Peacefully asleep in his embrace.

“I love you.”

He kisses your head.

“And I'm proud of you.”

His eyes closing slowly, taking in your scent.

I love you too

“Kento.”

“Hm?”

“Will you be gone when I wake up?”

“No.”

“I'll be right here when you wake up.

Right by your side.”

[Fanart is not mine. I found it on Pinterest. If you know the artist, let me know.] ♡

➛ And yes it is Nanami in the fanart in case you're wondering (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #loving nanami #self indulgent #hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x y/n #loving nanami hours #comfort character

244 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 2 years ago

Note

okay so… i’m aspec, and i wanted to start off with how much i love how you characterize eddie! his sweet persistent attentiveness is totally what draws me to him. anyway… since you asked for requests, what about eddie reacting to being told reader isn’t ready for sex yet, or maybe that juxtaposed with when they are ready? eddie being patient and happy to hold off… maybe putting an emphasis on nonsexual intimacy or even nudity without it being sexualized? idk just a few ideas, you don’t have to include the aspec stuff if you don’t want but just the reader not being ready and focusing on other ways to feel close to him would be amazing 🥺

hi!!! I found this in my drafts - I am so sorry it took me so long! big love 2 u. <3 (gn!reader, suggestive themes, angst, Eddie being a sweetheart, mention of drugs)

Frustrated, you bring your knees up and kick your comforter down, over your legs and to the end of the bed. The cool air hits your skin like a wave, and it brings enough relief that you can close your eyes for a moment.

The sheets feel like wet sandpaper tonight, clinging to every inch of you. Your pyjamas are nearly as bad.

You turn over and squint through the darkness at the clock beside your bed. It's just past two in the morning, and you huff another irritated noise when you realise you only have four hours until you have to be up for work. You can see it now: you'll drift off, hopefully, at some point in the next few hours, only to be rudely awoken at 6:15 by your alarm. You'll drag yourself into work, where Fiona, the lady you open with on a Friday, will tell you that you look like hell and offer you a modafnil. You'll decline, and when you clock off in the afternoon, you'll head home, fall asleep, and wake in the middle of the night to repeat the process.

You're not sure where she gets the myriad of drugs she seems to carry with her. For a while, you assumed she just had a hefty prescription – she's at least in her late fifties, and age hasn't dissuaded her from smoking a pack a day – but sometimes you catch her at the dishwasher or by the bins out back, swallowing something from another orange bottle. Once, when you were emptying the trash, you found one. It was Xanax.

Maybe there's a drug for this, you think. Because, surely, it's some kind of disorder, a syndrome, something abnormal. Your beautiful, lovely, sexy boyfriend, kind and wild and falling for you, and you still can't find that urge to rip his clothes off.

You turn onto your back again, head slotted between two pillows, and stare blankly at the ceiling, turning over the previous evening in your head. It burns, the embarrassment, like white-hot fire under your skin. Your hair flares, lifting from the hot shame, when you think about his face, the drop of his hands from your waist, the awkward way you let yourself out and came home. He didn't call.

"I'm gonna go clock out."

You reach behind your back to untie your apron, using your elbow to push through the kitchen door back into the diner. Fiona barely turns to acknowledge you from where she's hunched over, polishing a glass, giving a short noise of agreement as you make your way to the staff room. You pull yourself through your routine, throwing the apron in the hamper and shoving your timecard into the machine, before you stop before you reach for your bag.

You realise that you have no way of getting home.

Eddie usually picks you up, but he won't be here today. And you're tired, so tired, too tired to walk home. You'd only finally gotten to sleep a few hours before you woke, just as you'd expected. Your legs feel like lead.

As you mull over your options, you pull your bag over your shoulder and grab your jacket. And when you push the door open, you nearly cry, because sat in his usual spot, right by the door, is your stupid, lovely boyfriend.

He looks up at you when he hears the door, and the first thing you notice is how tired he looks, too. He's a little puffy, almost like he's only just woken up – his hair tells you the same, curls going wild amongst one another, sticking out at every angle. He wears a sad smile as his gaze lingers on you, and you feel yourself nearly crumble under it.

He stands as you make your way over. Just as he does every day, he takes your bag from you and slings it over his own shoulder, and he reaches out and takes your hand, and it's then that you let go.

The tears come quicker than you can stop them, silent, hot rivers running down your face. He tugs gently on your hand, urges you out of the door, not giving his usual quick-whip goodbye to Fiona, and pulls you across the lot to his van.

When he opens the door for you as he always does, helping you in and dropping your bag by your feet, he rubs your knee with one hand and takes your face in the other.

"We're gonna talk about it when we get home, 'kay?" he says, and his voice sounds just as tired as he looks. "Please don't cry."

All you can give him is a nod, but he takes it, squeezing your knee as a quick goodbye before closing the door and jogging around to his side. The ride home is quiet, besides your sniffling, and his hand plants back on your knee for most of it. You look out the window and feel the sun on your face, made hotter as it passes through the glass. Your eyes close and you breathe, and as it paints your skin with a golden heat, you begin to think that maybe this won't be as bad as you've made yourself believe.

You like Eddie's home, perhaps moreso than your own. Yours is lonesome, but Eddie's is full of love. His uncle likes photographs and souvenirs and clutter, and it makes their little trailer feel like the warmest place on earth.

Today, though, it's tainted, edges burned by the memory of the night before. You daren't think about it, too worried about crying more than you already have, but it's difficult when you have to look at the door you slammed in Eddie's face 18 hours ago.

"C'mon," he says, squeezing your thigh and opening his door. You pull your bag onto your knee and do the same, hopping out and following him slowly up the steps. Inside, he takes your bag again, hanging it on a hook by the kitchen, while you take off your sneakers and traipse over to his couch. You don't dare to sit down, though, until he's back by your side pleading with you to.

"What's got you all wound up, hm?" he asks, taking your hand in his, and his voice is like honey, making you want to cry again. You breathe in a short, sharp breath instead and try desperately to ignore the white-hot burn of exhaustion and shame behind your eyes.

You sit and he follows, using his other hand to wipe away the tears as they come. You must look a mess, you think, all tired with huge, dark marks beneath your eyes and cheeks wet from crying. But he's looking at you like he always does, fond as ever.

"Why'd you run off like that last night?" he asks.

"I-" You try to answer, but the words are lost on you, lodged in the thickness of your throat. His arms wind around you and you lean in, lost to the familiarity of it. Your sobs, broken by hiccups and broken breaths, are in freefall.

He soothes you, leaning back so you're lying on his chest. His hands run up and down your back as he kisses the crown of your head and whispers that it'll be okay, that you're okay, we're okay.

"I'm sorry," you say into his t-shirt.

"For what?"

You wish you could tell him, and you wish he wouldn't ask. Isn't it obvious? You stormed out, you slammed the door in his face, you didn't call, you let it get this far, you led him on knowing you'd feel like this.

"For crying on your shirt," you say.

He chuckles and you feel it, the deep rumble of laughter in his chest. He twists underneath you, turning the two of you on your sides to lie facing one another, mostly so he can get a good look at your face.

"I have other shirts," he tells you.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"Sorry."

He laughs again and you can't help but break a smile.

"So," he begins. "Why'd you go?"

"I just…" You sigh and he sees the way your face twists, contorting into something like frustration, so he eases the grip of his arms around you to let you sit up. You do, leaning on his bent knees, and look up to the ceiling.

"I feel… I feel like I've led you on."

"What?" He sounds surprised, which in turn surprises you, because surely he can see that that's what's happening here.

"Eddie, I don't know how to… I can't explain it."

He doesn't say anything. The couch dips and creaks as he sits up, knees crossed, opposite you, imploring you to try.

"I... I can't give you what I'm meant to."

He looks back at you bewildered, and for a brief flash you feel the burn of frustration. You'd usually find this endearing, but all of this would be easier if he would fill in the blanks by himself.

"I don't want to have sex, Eddie."

You watch the dawning of realisation on his face, the twist and the widening. His eyes search your face as you hold it in, the dam close to bursting again, and then he softens.

"Oh, baby, you should've just said."

He reaches over, a hand on your ankle, holding you there as if to stop you leaving.

How could you ever?

"What do we do?" you ask him after a beat. You're looking at one another, you at him because you're sure this is the final time you'll get the chance, and him at you because he's sure he's never loved anybody like this before in his life.

"What do you mean?"

"Eddie, don't make me-"

"You're not leaving me," he tells you. It's not a question, or a plea, but a statement of fact. You're here, with me. You're not going anywhere. I'm not going to make you go anywhere.

"I don't want to," you say quietly.

"And," he begins, inching closer, taking your waist in his big hands to pull you in. "I'm not leaving you."

He resumes his position on his back, you pressed comfortably to his chest. You feel his heartbeat, quicker than usual, and feel a pang of remorse that you've made him so nervous.

You think back to the evening before - when he'd got handsy, and you'd liked it, but then the clothes had started coming off and you'd freaked, pulling your things into a bag and running out the door before he could stop you - and it's suddenly muddied by distance, a memory trapped somewhere far away.

"I'm just not ready," you tell him, cheek to his chest, feeling his fingers run through your hair.

"'S'okay," he murmurs. "I'll be here if you ever are. Or if you never are. Either way."

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

94 notes · View notes

jaidens · 1 year ago

Text

Just One Single Glimpse Of Relief To Make Some Sense Of What You've Seen [PT. 2]

pairing [s] : daniel larusso x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : pain, cuts, bruises, crying, cuddling | comforting part of the hurt | this was super quick I'm tired guys

a/n [s] : requests are open!! hi pooksters

Daniel wakes up with a painful throbbing in his head, reminding of too many bad highschool parties after football games. There's a loud beeping and bright lights as he attempts to recollect why he's here. The television is playing a random old movie, the commonahh track playing loudly. He looks around and looks down at his body to see that he is connected to wires and an IV. Suddenly, he realizes, why is he in a hospital room?

You emerge from an open door, carrying two plates of food and a cup of water. “Hey, Danny! You're finally awake.” Your voice is soft and relaxing and it's music to his throbbing head. “What am I doing here? What's happening? All I remember was Johnny.. then man— my head is really hurting.” Daniel rumbles out words, hand falling against the gauze patch above his eyebrow.

You sit down near his legs, hand falling against his arm as he looks at you with worry. “You passed out after what the Cobra’s did to you. You got a couple of cuts and bruises. It's around..10:00 so you've been sleeping for a while.” You inform Daniel and he nods, fingers playing with yours on your hand. He's zoned out and you hand him a pill and water. You direct him to take it, your voice soothing his mind.

He shoots the pill back with water and lays against your pillow. Daniel’s hair is messy and fluffy, and his eyes are closed. You're softly rubbing his arm, fingers laced through his. You're reminding him that you're there for him, and care. “Are you hungry? Did you want to eat?” You ask and Daniel nods, grabbing the plate from your hands and immediately digging into the warmed up dinner.

You chew yours as you watch him, savoring the picture in your mind of his soft look. His eyes are hung almost closed as he continues waking up from his long nap. He doesn't look great— the purple eye and cuts littering his face are prominent. The bruises against his arms from blocking hits make you sad, knowing how he had to use karate for protection, and not for what he had loved and cherished.

“Do you want the lights off? I wasn't sure what you wanted.” You ask and he nods, which makes you stand up and turn them off and turn the lamp on that lights up a small area but a candle look lets you eat in peace. You're watching him and you can't help but feel your eyelashes get wet from tears finally pushing through your strong surface. The sight of him makes you wanna take everything he's ever felt, and push it onto you, which would make him feel better. It kills you that it can't, however.

“The nurse said you had a concussion and a few stitches.” You tell Daniel and he lets his eyes fling open in surprise. “Johnny was so aggressive— I think he was drunk or something.” You nod and kiss his knuckles as he explains what happens while sniffling in tears. Daniel had been hurt in many ways— emotional and physical. It hurts you more to see someone you loved and cared about and have to look behind his back after karate championships.

“Thank you– for being here. I was so scared. As soon as I saw them all, I knew I wouldn't be going home with a couple bruises.” Daniel admits to you as he chews against his bottom lip. You had only seen him like this a couple of times during bad situations, he would quiet down and the bubbly personality would get locked away. “Of course, Daniel. I will always be here, always.”

The night ends with cuddling and talking about the school day before, everything that happened before. You're in his hospital bed and watch how calm he stays, messing with his curls by twirling them around your fingers. You're in love, and you're sure the next time you see Johnny's face, it isn't gonna be as cute as all the girls see it.

#daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso #karate kid 1984 #karate kid fanfiction #young daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso fluff #daniel larusso fanfiction #daniel larusso imagine #daniel larusso x y/n #daniel larusso x you #karate kid x reader #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1986 #karate kid 1989 #karate kid

69 notes · View notes

b-b-8 · 5 months ago

Text

a list of reylo wips i am tearing my hair otu over

i will come back to update this. probably

why the mockingbird broke (100% complete) - aka delinquent farmstay au. late teens reylo, ben is our resident casual emo delinquent who is being sent to stay on skywalker ranch for a few months as a rehabilitation effort. rey is our plucky farmgirl who lives with uncle luke, tired farmer. i love this because it is almost cottagecore vibes but its more southern/country at heart. lots of bullshit about working in the sun and simple things. rey is very nice and ben has absoltuely no idea how to handle it, he's a wet cat

passenger princess (5% complete) - this is an idea i am Passionate about but have no idea how to execute. all i know is i want some ddlg bullshit and kylo rides a god damn motorcycle. trying to make rey soft but not too soft is kind of a challenge because she's very rough around the edges/hardened by life 2 me. UPDATE: i have not touched this yet i need to do more research, wordcount is 1.5k and probably needs to be rewritten entirely LOL

something borrowed (100% complete) - probably the next thing im posting!! this is a weird one, it's a bride!rey x bridal stylist!kylo modern au where rey is very controlled by plutt and in an arranged marriage to poe, who she mutually has no feelings for. during one of her dress try-ons she meets kylo and he kind of upturns her entire life by existing lol. i think the plot is possibly a huge mess but w/e nobodys paying me for this shit. i need a beta T_T PERFECT AND COMPLETE AND POSTED THANK U KAYLEEEEEEE <33333

t3h 0ff1c3 xD (70% complete? working title rofl) - ok this one is definitely a mess. this is a fake dating/CEO/office romance where benny boy needs to get out of the eligible bachelor auction at the annual company gala and having a fake gf is obv the best way to get that done. enter: new IT girl rey. yes this is contrived yes we are running with it. it was originally A/B/O so dont even come at me UPDATE: ok we are at 19k and still kicking so i'm leaving it at 70% complete.

bloodwork (20% complete) - a repurposed AoT fic :O) we have anesthesiologist rey who is told about a difficult patient. difficult patient alleges he is a demon and needs to get out of the catholic hospital. rey, against her better judgment, sneaks him out after her cross burns his hand. now she is living wit ha demon and that's great. i have no idea where i'm going with this but they fall in love and that's cool too UPDATE: have barely touched this, it's sitting at 8k remarkably

libertine (20% complete idk) - repurposed h******** fic ROFL. rey is a new therapist in a new town in a new apartment with a new neighbor who is very hot and keeps showing up in her dreams. this is an AU where kylo is an incubus and they fall in love too :-) UPDATE: wordcount is 5k and needs to be rewritten bc rey still sounds too much like **** hahahahhahaha

turpentine (20% complete????? do you see where im going with this???) - moar repurposed fic!!!!! idk if this one is going to see the light of day, it's kind of messy. basically artist!ben is in desperate need of a model/muse before a deadline and he sees rey on the street and offers her an obscene amount of money. cue nude modeling and all that bullshit <3 UPDATE: i reread this and hate it and idk what im gonna do. might rewrite the whole thing. wordcount is 4k

dog-gone it (20% complete.) - werewolf au this one is probably getting scrapped too bc i don't like where im going with it. ben ends up trapped in his wolfdog form. rey ends up adopting a scary dog from the pound. hilarity ensues. i just wanted to write werewolf sex UPDATE: i wrote a little bit of this and hate it again. wordcount is 4k

propinquity (70% complete?) - OK HERE IS ONE I AM AMPED ABOUT. i am currently really into this one. omegaverse, starts with them trapped in an elevator and rey inadvertently being sent into heat. they resist the pull of it and lose each other when they get out, but they don't stop thinking about each other for months. turns out it's a small fucking world and they find each other again, and just a bunch of really cute awkward dating shit ensues bc ben is bad at feelings and rey is too. UPDATE: i am CHURNING this one out for no good reason at all??? its at fucking 39k LOLLLLLL!!!!!

tantric (100% complete) - WEDDING NIGHT SEQUEL TO THE PIANO IS NOT FIREWOOD YET THAT IS ALLLLLLLL <3 <3 <3 wordcount is 8.4k

something borrowed smut one shot which is untitled (5% complete and by that i mean it was vaguely planned out lmfao)

thank you for coming to my ted talk. pls feel free to talk at me about any of this it rly helps u_u

1 note · View note

casspurrjoybell-28 · 1 year ago

Text

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 37- Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

"I've been hard since I saw you naked in my bed this morning. Don't tell me you didn't notice until now."

"Unlike someone, I'm not permanently horny..."

"You're cute. Not sure someone who screamed my name all night can really say that."

"You..."

I flush, jumping on him, sending water sloshing over the edge of the tub.

"You're the one who gets hard every time I sit on you..."

"You expect me not to? With this..." he squeezes my ass in his hands. "Pressing up against my dick?"

My head feels like it'll explode from the vulgar words and it makes me excited.

But it's really not good for me to be getting horny again.

My brain may be on board but my body is not. Don't get me wrong... the sex was mind-melting, the most pleasure I've ever felt.

But my body aches from how hard we went at it. I start to shake my head.

"Daemon I'm s-sorry but I don't think I can go again, I'm so sore..."

"No sorries shortcake. I'm not going to make you do anything. Just ignore it," he pulls me back against him.

Okay then.

But how exactly am I supposed to ignore the hot throbbing presence right between my legs?

I decide I need to distract myself so I sit forward, squirting some body wash into my hands.

Then I turn around to straddle him, trying not to think about how close our cocks are to touching.

I hum, running my soapy hands down his arms.

Then I move to his neck, gently massaging him there before I go over his chest, giving extra special attention to his pecs and abs.

He melts under my touch, the appreciation deep in his face as he watches me, eyes low lidded.

He's just a big baby, isn't he?

He looks so starved of this type of affection that I wonder how long he's gone without a loving touch, a soothing hand to calm him.

So I do it thoroughly, hugging him close as I wash his hair.

"You're spoiling me..." he murmurs in pleasure as I apply an exfoliating cleanser to his face, gently massaging it into his skin with my thumbs.

Then I wash it off and give him a kiss on both cheeks.

"You're the spoiler, Daemy. Just look at all this stuff you prepared," I give him a soft look.

"I'm only giving you what you deserve. I mean, you deserve more, of course..."

"Oh shush," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing myself close to him.

"You're the best."

His face goes a little bit funny and I feel him shift under me, realizing he's now even harder than before.

I give him a "really?" look.

"Look, I'm really trying here. But my Omega in heat on top of me is just... a lot," he admits, his voice strained.

Apparently all my wolf can think about is his dick so that works out perfectly.

I stop trying to resist abs just give in to the hormones.

"Hmmn is that so?" I wiggle myself on his cock, teasing him.

"What are you doing?" he asks, eyes narrowing. "With your ass?"

He raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

"Hmm you're right. It's not that effective. How about you sit up on the ledge," I say suggestively, giving him a sultry look.

He obliges almost immediately, rising out of the water to sit on the side of the tub, cock standing erect between his legs.

I look up at him seductively, licking my hand sensually to get it wet with my spit before closing it around his length.

He sucks in a breath, watching the scene unfolding before him intently, focused on where I'm touching him.

I lather his dick up, using the my spit and the water as lubrication to stroke him.

"What happened to 'I can't do it again'?" Daemon smirks.

I give him a little pout.

"I can't. But you can, evidently," I say as I continue to pump him, increasing the pressure of my hand.

I see when he starts to really feel the pleasure, letting out a rumbling groan as he leans his head back.

Daemon's stamina is absolutely unbeatable, which means he lasts awhile and my hand soon gets tired.

But not to worry.

I have another tactic up my sleeve.

I slow the rhythm of my hand, moving it down to hold only the base of his dick.

Daemons eyes widen when he sees what I'm about to do.

I lower my head to his cock, lips wrapping around the tip.

I feel him shudder in pleasure, a fire in his eyes as he watches me.

Now, I'm not experienced in this whatsoever but Lylah instructed me with a few techniques that 'bring men to their knees.'

So I'm hoping this works.

I swirl my tongue around the tip, keeping eye contact with him all the while as I slather his dick with my spit.

"Who taught you this?" he growls with his chest.

I don't answer, just innocently looking up at him as I suck on him, pumping the rest of his length I can't fit in my mouth with my hand.

He tastes a hint salty, his precum surely pooling on the head of his cock that I'm focusing on.

Daemons hands lace through my hair as I go deeper, a deep moan coming out from him as it hits the back of my throat.

My tongue slides all around his hardness, laving at the places and pulsing veins I know feel good. then I start to make soft little noises of hunger and gratification, my eyelashes fluttering as I struggle to take him deeper. His hand tightens in my hair.

"Fuck. You're gorgeous," he groans, looking down at me, eyebrows creased in concentration.

I moan in response, sending delightful vibrations up his cock.

I clench my thighs, already having a tingling feeling between them.

"Look at you," he groans, face tense with lust as he takes in my appearance,

"Those pink lips so damn wet, your pretty cheeks all red. You were made to suck my cock, weren't you?"

I nod submissively up at him, pulling off his dick with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his manhood to my swollen plump lips.

Then I stick my tongue back out and start licking all over it, making a show of it as I look up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks like he's going to snap any second.

"Come in my mouth," I breathe against his cock, my heat speaking for me. I swear, something's possessed me.

This is not me. He loses it.

He growls, standing up as I kneel before him on my knees, half submerged in the water.

He jerks his cock through his fist before my awaiting open mouth, spurting his cum directly onto my tongue and face.

The salty liquid melts over my taste-buds and I lean in, licking the tip of his cock to get the excess off of his slit, hungry for more of his seed.

He watches as I swallow down his cum, a look like he wants to devour me in his eyes.

When I'm done he brushes his thumb over my lips, holding my chin.

"Good boy," he tells me and I close my eyes, soaking in the praise as I reminisce the taste of him.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight after this. Do you hear me?" he growls, a possessive tone in his deep rumble of a voice.

I nod dizzily, still stuck in a lustful daze.

I feel so damn hot.

"Baby?"

I don't reply, breathing hard.

I feel woozy, like I just want to sleep here in the nice warm bath.

"Shit," he says, kneeling down to pick me up out of the water.

"You're overheating."

I relax against him as he takes me out of the bath and wraps a a fluffy white towel around me.

"Guess I still have a bit of fever from my heat," I say tiredly as he brings me to the bed.

"It should subside soon. Since we fucked."

"Don't say it like that."

I blush, burying my face in the pillow case.

He climbs on top of me playfully, smothering me.

"What should I say then? Consummated? Coitus? Intercourse?"

"Put some clothes on you oaf."

1 note · View note

dumb-admins · 2 years ago

Text

Pity Party

Valentine x Phoenix angst one shot

Tw: Forgotten birthday, cussing, crying, semi-shitty girlfriend and happy ending

A/n: I'm aware we remembered her birthday but 1. I'm in an angsty mood 2. I need to get this out of our drafts and 3. I'm aware I probably should've just posted this in May but writers block is kicking my ass.

Valentine sat up off the small mattress in Phoenix's dorm, the too-big cotton sheets bunching up uncomfortably around her legs and arms, she let out a loud yawn, her arms stretching out and tensing slightly, she stood up and walked to the bathroom, brushing her teeth lazily and wetting her hair; brushing her baby hairs down to calm her bed-head. She slumped out of the tiny bathroom and looked at the beat up 'hang in there' cat calendar Raza gifted Valentine a few days after she was made aware of her existence, she smiled softly at the memory, picking up the almost dried red sharpie she went to cross of May 26th, before widening her eyes, realizing it was her birthday.

She excitedly crossed the day off and skipped towards the small plastic container containing her clothes, she picked out a beautiful silky baby blue dress Kanako bought her; it barely coming up above her knobby knees, the lose fitted fabric hanging off her small figure, she grabbed the matching white corset belt and slipped it on, it hugged her waist snuggly.

She skipped out of Phoenix's bedroom, immediately seeing the tall girl standing sleepily over the coffee maker, staring at it though it seemed like she was completely zoned out, she ran towards her and hugged her tightly, Phoenix let out a gasping groan as she slowly realized it was Valentine hugging her. "Good morning?" She chucked while patting her head tiredly, "Mornin'! Guess what day it is!" She giggled while holding onto the hem of her girlfriend's oversized Nirvana shirt like a giddy toddler, her bright smile being met back with a confused glare, Phoenix cocked her head to the side and checked her phone, the bright light casting shadows in her tired face, "Oh thank god it's Friday, I swear tomorrow I'm not getting out of bed. Thanks for telling me babe." She chucked quietly and planted a quick kiss on the pale girls forehead, Valentine frowned and loosened her grip on the cream colored shirt.

She laughed awkwardly and gently nudged her knee against the girl's thigh, "Love, are you forgetting something..?" She questioned, hoping that it was a small prank or a slip of the mind, Phoenix shook her head softly, confused she turned back to her coffee, grabbing a bright yellow porcelain mug with faded words that once said 'I am a ray of fucking sunshine', Ash bought it for her as a gag gift, she threatened to bash it over his skull therefore proving his point.

"N-no my love..uhm..check again?" She awkwardly chuckled and brought her hands to the hem of her own silky dress, the fabric feeling too tight even if it was big on her, the air feeling too humid on her already warm skin and her hair feeling too scratchy on her neck in that moment. Phoenix rolled her eyes and glared at her girlfriend, an obvious annoyance radiating off of her, "Val, nothing is happening today..fuck.." she huffed the last word with an exaderated eye roll, slipping away from the counter loosely as she sipped the bitter hot coffee, the red head's eyes blinking away tears 'Maybe shes planning something! It's probably a surprise party!', being happy with what her mind conjured up, she skipped happily towards Phoenix and tugged on her shirt collar, nudging her down as she snapped her teeth in frustration, her coffee almost spilling on her hand and the cold ceramic tile, "Valentine, cut it out." She grabbed her hand and ripped it off of her shirt, holding her hand she bent down and pressed a small kiss against her temple.

"I need to get ready for class, stay here and don't kill yourself." She grumbled in annoyance and tiredness, tossing Valentine's hand out of hers, slumping back towards the bedroom to get ready for the school day, she brushed her teeth and put her hair back, not bothering to slick it down opting to just put on her hoodie and hopefully sleep throughout first period, thank god she sat in the far back. She stumbled towards her bedroom, seeing her upset girlfriend on her bed, pouting; in the back of Phoenix's mind she cooed and called her immature.

She got dressed, wearing black athletic shorts and a grey tank top with a jacket, the summer air hot and humid as she stepped into the air conditioned hallway, she checked her phone and quickly realized she was going to be late for her first period. She quickly sped walked to class while awkwardly smiling at professors and other students, once in the class she sprinted up the steps and slid in the seat next to Sara, "Hey girl..shit did I miss anything?" She mumbled softly and pulled her laptop out, trying to beat the device awake, "No he barely started..I swear he starts every damn class by trauma dumping for the first 30 minutes, like why do you think a bunch of 20 somethings care about your failed marriage.." she giggled and nudged a snickering Phoenix with her elbow. "I don't know man..you got any plans today? I wanna get drunk this week was hell.." she groaned softly and leaned against Sara, only to be met with a confused stare, slowly being nudged off of her shoulder, "Oh uhm.. Valentine is drinking? I didn't think she'd do that.." she questions with a soft shrug "What? No she doesn't drink, why? I don't know but I wanna go to your dorm and drink I'm problems away." She mumbled sleepily while resting her chin on her palm, staring at an almost horrified, confused Sara. "Bitch...it's Valentine's birthday today did you fucking forget..!?" She whisper yells while gripping onto the shocked girls forearm.

Phoenix abruptly stands up, stuffing her notebooks and laptop into her already overstuffed bag, the professor glaring at her until she awkwardly lied "oh uhm..student council meeting sir.." she nodded and pointed towards the door, Phoenix sprinted out, basically falling into the cafeteria to beg for a pink lemonade and a vanilla cupcake with strawberry frosting, the staff reluctantly gave her the food, mainly to shut her up and get her out of the echoey cafeteria. She ran up the stairs and beat against the large wooden door with her elbow and foot, Valentine opened the door, teary eyed and shaky as she just got done sobbing since no one remembered her birthday, "Babe! Hey..don't cry c'mere.." Phoenix mumbled and placed the food on a small coffee table, hugging her shaking girlfriend, kissing her forehead softly as she whispered praises and apologies. "I thought you forgot.." Valentine hiccuped out between gasping cries, Phoenix cringed and looked down ashamedly, "I know.. I'm sorry, this week has been hell I promise I'll never forget again I'm so sorry my love.." she whispered and held her closer to her chest, the shaky girl calming down, laying her head on Phoenix's chest, listening to her heartbeat as they intertwined hands, "I love you so much Valentine, I'm so sorry.." she spoke softly as she rubbed her back, "I love you too.." she looked up and smiled softly at her girlfriend before pressing a peck against her lips. "Want me to order your favorite food and I'll attempt to bake you a cake?" She asked sweetly, Valentine cooed and played with her hair, "My love.. you'll burn the dormitory down I'll stick to my cupcake." They both giggled as she reached for the small treat "Happy birthday dear.."

-Admin K (I got lazy and tired I'm so sorry)

#oc stuff #@keep pretending you love me #oc #ocs #oc tag #headcanon #oc headcanon #oc headcanons #angst #one shot #oc couple #canon #lesfic #wlw ship #wlw ocs

0 notes

angelmiledg · 5 months ago

Text

So today I have to model for another photo shoot only this time I'm told to just throw on a robe and head over to the park where there is a team to get me ready

A team? normally it's just one person with whatever I'm wearing, looking around I can see nothing like I useually see all I see is a three sided booth of sort with heavy plastic looking sides

One of the "Team" takes my arm and guieds me into the booth and tells me to remove my robe, I'm reluctant but do so, they give me a showerr cap for my hair and put a cling wrap stuff around my nech and chin and a pair of safty glasses, wondering whats going on

Then the spray hits me OMG thats cold I look down and they are spraying me blue, even getting a sprat-tan is warmer than this brrr, and on and on it goes for what seems like forever, finally thay are done and looking down I'm like wow It looks fantastic like I actually have clothes on

going over to a full length mirror they have there I'm like "This is almost a heroine style costume"

the next few hours are spent getting photographed in all sorts of poses and by now my feet and ankles are starting to get tired and sore, The team tell have a sit down while we get set for the last shots

looking around there is no seats, so I sit on the edge surrounding the big fountain we used in some of the shots, so I'm sitting there relaxing in the late afternoon sun.............................. SPLASH

Pffftuuft spitting out a mouthful of water I must have dozed off and naturally I fell into the water of the fountain, not taking much notice of anything but yell out to the team "Won't be long guys just dry my hair and I'll be right with you "

As you can imagine they are splitting their sides laughing ..."don't worry Ang we just got the best shots of the day but these are just for us" I hang my head thinking oh gawwd what did the capture on film, it was then that i really noticed the water in the fountain no longer looked pure and pristine but a heavey tinge of blue

looking then at my body I see there is not one spot of blue paint left on my body ........ oh crap water soluble paint, I'll just grab my robe and head back to the hotel

look up to call one of the team for my robe, Hey where you all gone

Hear I am 126lb wringing wet stark naked have to walk about 2 blocks back to my hotel, As my Mum would say stand up straight, head high, tits out, bum out

Gratitude, Credit and Thanks @dryndelicate

wish i'd stay dry & delicate, hahaha

I know, @angelmiledg, that @gigiprinceton wanted you to expose yourself fully. I've helped you out with the idea of a bodypainting and I can tell you, you look magnificent like this. But the colors are water soluble, so washing it off in a public fountain might not be the best idea.

21 notes · View notes

mackjlee9 · 3 years ago

Note

~congratulations on 2 thousand!! can I ask for a Manjiro with 85, 41 and 55 smut?? thank you if you do this, but you can ignore it. have a nice day!! 💞

Thank you for requesting~ 😊

Smut Prompts; 'Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you're rough,' 'What makes you think I'm going to fuck you?' & 'Is my thigh or nothing, I'm not helping you get off.'

Warning; bonten!mikey, dry humping, thigh riding, ruined orgasm.

Sano Manjiro (Mikey) [Tokyo Revengers]

Please, enjoy the event~

After a long day of having to deal with all the brats that wanted to be part of Bonten, claiming they were "worth it", (M/n) got home with quite a headache, he furrowed his eyebrows, and let out a heavy sigh, heading to the couch in the living room after taking his coat and shoes off.

With a groan, he sat down. He leaned back on and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. Right then and there, all he wanted was to sleep, but he knew that if he did that he was gonna wake up with an even more painful headache, so he was gonna get up, get something to eat, drink some water and maybe take a shower before going to bed. He wanted to relax after a tiring and annoying day, but someone else had other plans.

Mikey had sat down next to him on the couch, when did he do it? (M/n) had no idea, but he now knew that Mikey's hands were touching places that they shouldn't at the moment. Of course, Mikey didn't care or he just didn't notice, his hands trailing down his abdomen, inching his face close to the male and placing kisses on his neck.

(M/n) didn't have the willpower to push his partner away, so he just let Mikey do his thing, best thing was that his gentle touches were relaxing him, with help with his tense body. But it didn't just stay there, Mikey started getting bolder with his caresses, his intentions as clear as water now, and (M/n) had to stop him.

He held Mikey's wrist, opening his eyes and glancing down at him, "I'm not in the mood, Manjiro."

"Well, I am, and I've been waiting for you all day~" without caring about what (M/n) just told him, Mikey straddled the male's hips, grinding his ass down on (M/n)'s crotch, and yet again, his actions didn't get a single reaction out of the (h/c) haired male. "C'mon, just for a little bit?"

Making eye contact with the white-haired male, (M/n) let out a sigh, placing his hands on Mikey's hips, tilting his head back enough to make the male sitting on him understand that he wanted to kiss him. Eager, Mikey leaned down and did just that, his lips rubbing against (M/n)'s, their tongue soon touching.

And yet again, it wasn't enough for Mikey. He felt and noticed how (M/n)'s kisses and touches were so slow and gentle, almost sweet, it made his heart pound and get nervous, feelings that he wasn't used to, so he couldn't help but break the kiss and point it out.

"Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you're rough," he whispered against (M/n)'s lips, wrapping his arms around his shoulder.

(M/n) only scoffed, tightening his grip on Mikey's hips, "What makes you think I'm going to fuck you? I told you I'm not in the mood, Manjiro."

Mikey whined, moving his hands down to undo (M/n)'s pants, stroking his soft cock over his clothes, but his wrists were held behind his back, (M/n)'s face suddenly too close to his.

"Is my thigh or nothing, I'm not helping you get off," taking it as a challenge, Mikey positioned one of his legs in between (M/n)'s thigh, slowly starting to grind his hips back and forth, getting faster by the second.

His eyes started gathering tears, his face colored red, feeling embarrassed under (M/n)'s stoic stare, whining and whimpering quietly every time he felt his orgasm close only to slip away like water through his fingers. More times than he could count, his hips stuttered, his cock throbbing as it leaked cum, wetting his underwear, groaning in annoyance as he couldn't get himself into a proper orgasm.

Whilst he was struggling with overstimulating and edging himself, (M/n) was silently enjoying Mikey's helpless expression, watching he kept ruining his orgasms, unable to satisfy himself like he could do it. It was amusing, he would've laughed if he were meaner, but no, he just observed, delighted with the sight and the noises he was offered.

(my sister is making me play free fire with her, and I almost couldn't write this in time)

#.mackjlee9's 2k event #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #tokyorev x reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #lime #smut prompts #writing event

274 notes · View notes

sinning-23 · 3 years ago

Text

Sleep Headcanons

Arcane simps lets gooooo

Sevika

-she doesn't get a lot of sleep (fucking thanks a lot Silco)

-when she does she make sure you're tucked close to her.

-hates sleeping on her mechanic arm because it makes a loud whirring noise

-likes slinging one arm over you, or having contact with you in some way

-please play with her hair, she got it pulled back 24/7 I know she got a headache from it

-talks in her sleep'

-snores

Silco

-bad bitches have sleep apnea

-rarely sleeps, because bad bitches also handle business

-can't seem to get comfortable when he sleeps so he's always tossing and turning.

-expect to wake up with him draped over the side of the bed somehow.

-will never admit that he sleeps like a fucking psycho and wears socks to bed

-has a skincare routine before he sleeps (I don't make the rules)

-quite literally "one eye open when I'm sleeping"

-has night terrors and won't tell you about it. Kinda hurts but you respect that you aren't on that level with him yet

Mel

-sleeps like a fucking vampire

-cannot sleep without drinking milk first

...weirdo shit

-either sleeps with the lights on or something playing

-goes to bed early like the bad bitch she is. Beauty sleep is essential

-sleeps naked

-fetal position

-for the love of gods don't wake her up unless you have a death wish

-also talks in her sleep

-big cuddler

-will probably roll over on top of you

-HEAVY sleeper

-will get upset about the blanket ratio

"you have more blanket than me! Look!"

-prefers to be the big spoon

-kisses your nose if you fall asleep first

-always has the ac blasting and it never bothers her but you're over there looking like frosty the god damn snowman

-yawns really loud for emphasis of how tired she is

Viktor

-AS STATED BEFORE...BAD! BITCHES! HANDLE! BUSINESS!

therefore he doesn't sleep much

-will make you drag him to bed

-puts up a fuss about nir needing sleep and something about 'science never sleeping'

-passes out as soon as he hits the pillow

-I feel like he wears a bonnet lmao I can't get that out my head

-also has a skincare routine. he doesn't do it often but when he does its serious business

I'm talking serums and oils and 4 different cleaners with 2 separate exfoliants

-always says "sweet dreams my love" and kisses your cheek

Vander

-SOUNDS LIKE A DAMN VOLCANO WHEN HE SNORES

-BOMBS IT SOUNDS LIKE BOMBS

-and then there's a long silence and you have to play the

"is he dead right now" game before he snores again

-loves to have you fall asleep on his chest

-can sleep without blankets, they always end up on the floor anyway since he kicks them off so much

-holds your hand when you fall asleep

-surprisingly light sleeper, he usually scared himself away with that fucking ANIMAL snoring

Jinx

-has nightmares

-doesn't like sleeping sometimes so she'll just stay awake for days

-"jinx please go to bed"

"nah

-when you can get her to lay down she clings to you

-loves being little spoon

-lots and lots and lots of pilloes and blankets

-talks a LOT in her sleep

"take the piza out the dishwasher "

"huh?...oh shes sleep"

Ekko

-can sleep almost anywhere

-sleeps on his stomach and gets mad when his chest hurts the next day from being compressed on it

-durag...need I say more? matching bonnets anyone?

-also snores but its very rare

-drools but won't admit it

"Okay then what is this? this big ass wet stop where your FACE is"

"I don't know what you're talking about. maybe it rained?"

"over your face? inside the room?

"yes"

-makes sure you have water by your side of the bed in case you get thirsty at 3 am.

#ekko #silco #jinx #mel medarda #sevika #vander #viktor #headcannons #sleep #cute #semisad?#comfort characters #arcane

250 notes · View notes

couldyoustay · 3 years ago

Text

Drawn Together [Ch. 3]

pairing: bruce wayne x gn!reader

premise: An up and coming Gotham artist keeps running into trouble. Good thing there's vigilantes and awkward billionaires to help them out.

[a little slice of life slow burn with battinson- fluff and self indulgent soft touches abound]

warnings: very mild spoilers, some violence and cursing, attempted kidnapping and assault, blood and injury, stitches, mature themes

extras: reader is gender neutral, reader is an artist, Bruce Wayne is touch starved, Gotham has an art scene, probably ooc but i'm having fun

chapters: 5 // word count: ~24k

Read it on AO3

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

CHAPTER 3

Alfred had indeed sorted out dinner, the smells of cooking once again drawing you from your room.

“It’s too much, Alfred!” you laughed, sitting with the smiling man and taking in the feast he’d prepared before you two. Lemon chicken and angel hair pasta, diced potatoes and sun dried tomatoes, salads and soup, even fresh bread.

“Nonsense!” he chittered, moving things around and passing you tongs and all manner of bowls and trays. “It’s not every day I get to put the kitchen to good use…Master Wayne never eats much- and I’d hate for my culinary skills to grow rusty,” he grinned.

The two of you dug in. Alfred inquired about your work and you regaled him with projects and tales of your adventures through Gotham’s art scene- which is about as wild as it sounds. By the time you had eaten your fill and moved onto dessert (the madman had been baking a pie the whole time), the conversation had wandered back to the past, seemingly where Alfred’s mind tended to go after long days- or apparently a few glasses of wine.

“Used to be so much more help around here! But of course we had much more to entertain. Yes, but by the time the Young Master came to be of age and the last of his tutors were free of their contracts, not even the oldest maids could stand the gloom of the place,” he went on, glass of wine sloshing in his hand.

“So…Bruce was alone?” You asked, your tired head picking up from its resting place on your crossed arms on the table. The sadness you’d studied in Bruce’s eyes held years of loneliness. Of anger, you were sure, and despair after something so traumatic.

“Indeed…except for me of course,” he added, clearing his throat. His eyes had a wet shine.

“Why stay?” The words simply fell out of your mouth and you immediately regretted prying. “If you don’t mind me asking..” you said quickly.

He shook his head gently, as if to say not at all. After a pause, he spoke slowly. “I had a promise to keep to the elder Master Wayne. And I do not take my word lightly.”

You stared at him, almost seeing the invisible barriers around this man, speculating at all the sacrifice and loss that had made him loyal and kind to a fault, but solemn for the rest of his days. He cleared his throat again and smiled at you apologetically.

“Look at me- here I am talking your ear off about old times when you’re sure to be tired.”

“No- Alfred, really..!”

“Let me get that for you.” He began removing plates and trays, shooing you away as you attempted to help him at the sink.

“Well everything was absolutely delicious, thank you so much.”

“You’re most welcome, y/n,” he smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, really, thank you.”

“Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“I’d like to take a look around the gardens- if that’s alright.”

“Of course, of course,” said Alfred, looking pleased. “Take the main elevator to the 14th floor and follow the hallway all the way down, you can’t miss them.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

You’d followed Alfred’s instructions down to the 14th floor, finding yourself between two opposing doorways- one to an indoor greenhouse and one to an open air garden. You opted for the garden, wanting some fresh air. You stepped out, a cool breeze brushing across your face, and looked over the dizzying maze of topiary bordered by small, gnarled trees- not yet showing signs of withering from the oncoming winter’s chill but would no doubt soon be.

You walked through a wide main corridor, lined with overgrown but beautiful wildflowers, bordered contrastingly by meticulously manicured hedges. You wondered at who could be maintaining all of this- surely not Alfred. But the man’s devotion to the household seemed to hold no qualms. Bruce was lucky to have someone like that on his side.

Bruce. What did he think he was trying to pull? He'd better not be out there putting himself in danger. But he’d been far too cryptic with his plans for your liking. He wasn’t the fighter type, surely. And he seemed the charmer type even less.

Your thoughts were suddenly swimming with worst-case scenarios and you quickly found yourself a bench to sit and be hopelessly nervous. Should I call him? No, that’s a terrible idea, who knows what kind of smoky backroom he’s wormed his way into. Would he have left some kind of indication of his plan somewhere? His room? The study? You hated feeling so helpless here.

Your eyes wandered up into the sky. A rare break in Gotham’s cloud cover- those stars were up there winking at you again. You felt a tug in your chest as you thought about your place here, in this hollowed out manor, sitting perched above the city like a gargoyle. You closed your eyes and breathed in the rich, earthy scent from the dirt, the lingering ozone you’d always associate with this city. The sounds of Gotham’s streets sounded muffled and far away from up here.

So it was all the more startling when that quiet was interrupted by a heavy thud from above, your eyes snapping open. The balcony, surely- off from the large ballroom, the one that looked over the gardens. You stood and strained your neck to try and peer through the marble railing.

“Alfred?” You called. No reply. You became suddenly alarmed that the man had stumbled on his rounds through the house. You hurried to the elevators, making your way back up to the main floor and through the halls, the darkened ballroom rushing to meet you as you swiftly dashed through, flinging open the glass doors.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell upon a dark mass collapsed onto the balcony’s floor. A scream began building in your throat as a pair of eyes glinted from the swath of black fabric and your feet stumbled back. Then came a choked gasp- your name on rattled breath- before the figure slumped before you. Light caught on two devilish points and a thick cape, your eyes finally able to make sense of the sight before you.

“Batman…” you breathed, crouching beside him in an instant. What the hell was he doing here of all places? Hands shaking, you nudged his shoulder to the side. Christ, he was heavy. Your hand splayed on his marred chest plates, trying to turn him over. And do what?? Check his pulse? His whole body was covered.

“Hey=“ you began, shaking him gently when suddenly, you realized the hand on his side was wet. You pulled it away, breath hitching at the sight of his blood, dark and sickeningly warm on your skin.

“ALFRED!!” you cried, your own voice sounding far away as pressure rang in your ears. The next few moments were blurs, the two of you somehow grappling the masked man inside. The next thing you knew, he was groaning half-conscious on the dining room table- where you’d just shared a lovely meal no less- bleeding onto the mahogany.

“Alfred we- we need to stop the bleeding-“ you stammered, being handed an armful of towels. The butler whirled around you, bringing supplies from across the house and spilling them onto the table. He hovered over Batman and with a few quick latches, removed the plating and was slicing open an undershirt.

“I need you to apply pressure.” He said it so matter-of-factly to you, offering no explanations. Not that there was time for any, but you caught something deeply worried behind his eyes.

As you pressed the cloth to the Batman’s side, you felt him stir- a sharp intake of breath and a pained gasp as he jerked away from you. A startling red bloomed onto the white cloth in your hands.

“Sir, I need you to lie still,” Alfred said firmly, holding him in place with a surprisingly strong grip. You kept up your efforts, the vigilante staying as still as he was able. The pain had caused him to resurface at least, you thought, catching his burning gaze for a moment. He almost seemed shocked, taking you all in disbelievingly as if you were some sort of apparition, before the man’s eyes squeezed shut in pain, his head lolling back.

“Hold on…” you murmured, “hold on.” Again, louder. “We’re gonna get you patched up..”

“Of course we are,” Alfred insisted gruffly, threading a surgical needle nearby. “Even if you are a bloody fool. I told you it was too soon,” he directed at Batman.

“Alfred…” warned the low voice from the table.

“And did your grand plan come to fruition, hmm?” Alfred said, an uncharacteristic venom in his tone. So they knew each other. Was this some kind of regular occurrence? Wayne Manor just open for the wayward injured vigilante?

“I took care of it.”

Alfred gave an exasperated sigh, handing over new wet towels. You dabbed them gently to the wound, relieved that the bleeding had lessened.

“You feel like you can just take on anything, huh?” Alfred wasn’t letting up. “Was it worth it?”

Batman grit his teeth. “Yes.” His chest rumbled with the word, practically growled. His eyes fell onto you and Alfred’s eyes widened, softening with understanding but still determinedly stern.

Pieces were snapping into place in your head with dizzying speed.

“Y-you..”

Those eyes looked up at you from the table, wary. Those goddamn eyes.

“You!” You said again with finality, pressing ointment into the wound and watching its burn cause the man laying before you- Bruce goddamn Wayne himself- to wince with a sick sort of satisfaction.

“You were the one who said those guys were from a larger group!” you said accusingly, rising to your feet.

“I know…”

“You said they had powerful friends!”

“I know!” He almost moved to sit up, crying out easing back to the table with a groan.

You huffed worriedly and Alfred relieved you of your position, urging you gently to Wayne’s side then taking your spot, peeling away cloth and readying the needle.

“I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing,” he mumbled after a moment of quiet. “…not after..” His eyes flicked upward to meet yours.

Your resolve all but crumbled beneath that gaze- as per usual. You gave a small scoff and looked away, ready to be as determined as Alfred at being angry with him. He’d put his life on the line for you. Not that this was an unusual occurrence with him. He’d been doing it every day- for the entire city. But this one had been personal. You’d seen it in the brewing storm in his eyes when he’d left hours ago. This vengeance was for your sake.

Wayne’s eyes were squeezed shut, wincing in pain with every insertion of the needle by Alfred’s careful and clearly practiced hand.

“Wayne..” you began, but he cut you off with soft laughter punctuated with pain.

“I think.. we’re well past formalities.” His grin came out as more of a grimace.

You swallowed hard but said nothing, reaching slowly for his helmet. He made no move to stop you, only watching you intently now, so you continued. He seemed to need something else to focus on besides the pain anyway.

Your hands found the sides of the headpiece, prying the tight material up from his head. Slick hair fell to his forehead and you watched his eyes fall closed in relief. Think black paint was smeared around his eyes. Added to his already pale skin, which had only been desaturated further due to blood loss, gave his face a frightening, skeletal appearance. You watched the hitched rise and fall of his chest as Alfred worked diligently.

You reached for a gloved hand with your own. Wayne took it without a word, his eyes still squeezed shut.

By the time Alfred had finished, Bruce seemed to be just barely conscious.

“Master Wayne?” said the butler gently.

“Bed.” he replied weakly, an arm thrown over his face.

“Wouldn’t you rather-“

“Bed.” He insisted, letting his stoic expression fall as he removed his arm, showing just how pained and tired he was. You looked to the butler.

“We should get him to his room,” said a weary Alfred, scrubbing the blood from his hands in the sink. You merely nodded. The two of you hoisted Bruce up under his arms and he limped his way down the long hallway to his room, suppressing groans of pain. Alfred opened the large doors and the two of you helped Bruce into bed.

“Thank you for all your help, y/n,” said Alfred sincerely, looking over Bruce like a concerned parent. “Please get some sleep- I’ll get him sorted,” he assured you.

You found yourself nodding again, unsure what to say. Hell, what were you supposed to say to everyone tomorrow? You turned to go and felt a gloved hand catch yours. The hair on the back of your neck prickled hearing your name rumble through Bruce’s chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes glinting in the dim light of the room.

You couldn’t help but smile sadly, continuing to be perplexed by this man. “I’m the one who should be thanking you..” You squeezed his hand and gently let it go, taking your leave. You hoped he’d get some rest- the bags under his eyes had already told you he wasn’t normally inclined to.

Back in your room, you tried to get some sleep yourself. But after a considerable amount of tossing and turning, you realized your efforts were in vain.

You huffed and shoved the plush duvet away, climbing out of bed. Gotham glittered below you in the night, looking quiet and beautiful from far away. You sighed and grabbed your empty water glass from the bedside table, creeping down the hall to refill it.

As you pad your way back, you swear you hear a soft thud coming from Wayne’s room down the hall. You paused in your tracks, listening for anything else.

Silence.

Could it have been your imagination? No, there it was again. You put your glass back in your room and tiptoed toward the large set of doors. You felt like a creep leaning in and listening intently. But what if he was hurt? What if whatever he was dealing with back in the city had followed him home? You couldn’t wait any longer after hearing a sharp cry of pain from behind the doors.

“Bruce? Bruce!!” You hissed, rushing through the doors and taking in the dark room before you.

Pieces of his Batman armor were strewn about the floor. His sheets looked as if they had been dragged together in a path from the bed to the master bath, flecked in places with dark red. You scampered to the bath and skidded to a halt in the doorway. Wayne was on the floor in boxers, fumbling with a box of bandaids with shaking hands, half the contents of his cabinets strewn about him. His head snapped up at you as you came into view, his gaze already defensive in preparation for the worst but softening to something like embarrassment when he realized it was you.

“Uh-“ you stammered, feeling a hot blush threaten to creep up your collar as you immediately regretted busting into his room. “I just…wanted to make sure you were ok..” you tried, looking sheepish.

Bruce looked like he wanted to disappear in that moment but soon lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughs.

“Alfred was right. I do want to get cleaned up. But everything hurts,” he laughed weakly. “I barely made it in here.”

Now that his armor was removed, you really got to see how beat up he was. His skin was a patchwork of bruises and abrasions, dried blood caking cuts you hadn’t even seen before under the suit’s dark material.

“Fuck…” you breathed.

“I know- I look like shit..” he smirked, looking exhausted.

“No! I mean well yes but- argh c’mon, let’s just get you cleaned up. If you can barely stand I’ll draw you a bath..” you said quickly, getting up to do just that.

His eyes followed you around but he was silent. Once the water was running in Wayne’s fancy-ass claw-foot tub and you’d decided the temperature was acceptable, you headed back to him. He was making another attempt to stand, still clutching the bandaids. You swiped the box from him and set it on the counter, giving him an exasperated glare.

“Just hold on a second!” you helped hoist him up like before, taking his arm around your shoulder. “Don’t go hurting yourself more…you wouldn’t want me to wake Alfred and have him do another round of stitches, would you?”

“N-no,” he grimaced, your shoulder digging into a purpling bruise on his ribs.

“Sorry,” you said gingerly, adjusting yourself slightly.

He didn’t look it under those thick overcoats but shit, he was built. It wasn’t an easy feat limping him across the marble toward the bath, the water steaming up his frigid room. You leaned him up against the side of the tub and quickly shut off the water before it got too high. You stood there expectantly for a moment and he stared at you awkwardly.

“Are.. you gonna-“

“Oh!” Your face flushed and you turned around in an instant. You were grateful to turn your tomato-red face away as he took off what was left of his clothes and climbed gingerly into the tub.

You could hear hisses of pain as the hot water and soap kissed his scrapes and he sank into the tub with a groan of relief.

You turned slowly, nervous and suddenly filled with thoughts that the two people you’d been thinking about most in the past couple of weeks were in fact one person. And he was right in front of you. Naked. Thanks brain. You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts.

“Temperature okay?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Mmmm…” Bruce rumbled in reply. His head leaned back on the edge of the tub and his eyes drooped closed.

“Hey,” you called, grabbing a low stool from the vanity and a washcloth from the cabinet. You wet the cloth in the sink and came to sit beside him. “If you fall asleep in the tub I won’t be able to get you out,” you laughed softly. “Stay with me, Bruce.” You went to work on his raccoon eyes, wiping away at the grease paint. A small smile tugged up at the corners of his lips as you did so.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s.. it’s nice to hear you say my name,” he said quietly.

You cursed the pattering of your heart, trying to concentrate on removing the makeup. Your other hand rested on the side of his face. The intimacy reddened your cheeks and you were thankful Bruce’s eyes were closed.

There were a million questions racing through your mind, a million things you wanted answered, but the man before you looked so burned out, you figured you’d spare him the interrogation for tonight. You just wanted to be here for him right now. You hoped that was what he needed.

After a bit, you pulled away the washcloth and sighed.

“Did you get it?” Bruce mumbled, flashing that tired smirk.

“As much as I could,” you chuckled. “It’s alright- the eyeliner look suits you.”

He breathed a soft laugh, his eyes half-lidded and staring right at you. There was a question there, but his weariness wouldn't allow him to put it to words.

After steeling yourself for a pause, you reached out and pushed his slick hair back off his forehead, exposing the sharp panes of his features. You waited for a reproach but Wayne merely closed his eyes. You swear you heard a broken sigh. You continued in that way, running soap and water through his hair and checking what you could of the rest of his injuries, helping when he seemed to be straining. The silence between you no longer felt awkward but of a tired comfort. Gently, your hands brushed over his skin, a feather-light touch across a map of bruises.

Just when you were almost certain he’d fallen asleep, he shifted, sitting up. Water cascaded in droplets from his hair and shoulders.

His voice came out softly.

“I think I can manage…” he began, “..you don’t…have to leave.” Fumbling with his words but clearly trying to make sure you wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Right- just.. call if you need anything,” you said with a nod and wandered back to the bedroom. Seeing the state of the floor again, you attempted to gather the pieces of the Batsuit into a corner and tore off the bloodied middle sheets entirely. After some rummaging around in the closet, you tossed a few blankets onto the bed.

Bruce emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His head bowed as he limped into the room and began rummaging in his dresser. Your eyes wandered across his scarred back, watching his muscles ripple with each movement. He looked up before going back to the bathroom with a wad of clothes in hand, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’re sweet.”

The door clicked shut softly behind him.

From the very edge of the bed where you sat perched, hardly daring to sit anywhere further in, your heart pounded in your chest. Get a grip, y/n!! You told yourself. You were still a guest and these…strange circumstances didn’t give you any special permissions. He’d let you touch him, though. You wondered if he’d do it again.

Bruce emerged some minutes later, clad in a loose-fitting black t-shirt and sweats. The lights from the bathroom illuminated him from behind for a moment before he clicked them off, the room suddenly plunging into darkness. You blinked and your eyes took a moment to adjust. The city glowed from under a light nighttime haze, casting the only source of light onto the floor and up across the bed in dim rectangles.

You felt the mattress sag from the other side as Bruce climbed into bed. He stifled his groans as he laid down, his breaths labored in the pressing silence.

“Will you stay? Just for a little while…” That low voice rolled over you like a wave, pulling you toward him.

You smiled to yourself, easing back until you laid parallel with him.

“Course.”

You lay facing him, your eyes finally able to make out his form under the blankets. He lay on his back, one hand placed gingerly atop the bandaged wound at his side, the other raking through his damp hair. His head turned to face you and his dark eyes glinted with the glow from the windows.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, relief pouring into your words. You remembered the tightness in your chest earlier, not knowing where Bruce was or if he was alright. It had turned out you didn’t fully know who Bruce was either. Suddenly your thoughts were all catching up to you at once.

“Oh god..” you mumbled. You felt a flush of embarrassment rush through you.

“Hmm?”

“This whole time…it’s been you this whole time.. In the alleyway, in front of the Arts Center…at my apartment!”

He gave a low breathy laugh, “Ohh, that.. you do seem to have a habit for getting yourself into trouble.” You could hear the smile he wore saying those words. “Unless that was all just to meet the Batman.”

“Ohhh god, and then at the gala.. my drawings…” A burning blush crept into your cheeks.

He chuckled at that. “I gotta admit, I was flattered. And curious who could’ve gotten so close. And then, there you were again- and everything made sense.”

“Stoppppp,” you groaned, having buried your face in a large pillow. Welp, it was all there, out in the open now.

“It…it’s strange having someone know the truth. But I’m glad it’s you.”

You peered out at him, turning your head slightly to the side. “The things you do…”

“It’s dangerous, I know. But this city isn’t going to get better with us just sitting around. People need something to hold onto. Need to realize they have the power to do something, too.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head slightly. After a pause, you sighed.

“Alright Mr. Vigilante. But you’d better promise to be careful,” you said, knowing the absurdity of your request given his line of work, but meaning it all the same.

He chuckled softly, “Fine then, deal.” He offered his hand out between you two. You took it in both your hands and the two of you shook on it, a small laugh drawn from your throat. You found yourself continuing to hold on after, tracing your fingertips across his large hand. Calloused palms and battered knuckles gave way to long, bony fingers as you marveled at the gentleness of hands that could enact such violence. Bruce watched you silently, not daring to move an inch.

His gaze caught yours and you felt yourself shrinking before those stormy eyes. They seemed to be studying you, calculating, and you were suddenly very aware of what you were doing.

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, looking down and releasing his hand, but just as quickly he tensed his hand and closed his fingers firmly around yours. Your eyes snapped back up to his and there it was again- that silent question. His other hand reached over you slowly, coming to rest behind your head. A thrill ran through you. You remembered that feeling- from your first encounter that night in the alleyway. His touch was achingly gentle this time around. You could feel him slowly pulling you towards him. Your heart pounded in your chest. You came to rest startlingly close, his forehead pressed gently against your own. His eyes were shut and you watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.

That invisible barrier between the two of you was crumbling but you were afraid to ask for too much. You watched Bruce’s exhausted body slacken and drift off into sleep, his breaths slowing and his hold on you going limp.

You’d done as he’d asked. Now you’d let him sleep.

You slipped out from under Bruce’s arm and took one last look there in the dark. In sleep, his face had an ease to it you’d never seen in waking hours. He looked strange without his permanently furrowed brow, those serious eyes. You sighed and hoped he’d sleep well into tomorrow. He needed time to recover.

You left the room silently, closing the large door with a soft click. Back in your own room, you felt the ghost of him against you. You tried to get some sleep, thoughts awash with a touch gentle enough to make you cry.

#reader x battinson #reader x bruce wayne #reader x batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson fanfiction #bruce wayne #batman fanfiction #batman #touch starved bruce wayne #gn!reader #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #can you tell it was fun writing this chapter can you tell how soft i am at the thought of caring for this wet rat of a man

54 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 4 years ago

Text

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic

443 notes · View notes