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nayaesworld · 2 days ago

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Made Men

Mafia!Terry Richmond x Black reader

Warnings: MDNI, Family trauma, mentions of murder, betrayal

A/N: Happy Lovers Day y’all…I hope y’all enjoy💕

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Summary: Focus on your studies, mind your manners, and stay away from that Richmond boy. Your aunt sang that same tune to you over and over again…but destiny had better plans. And In a world where most people experienced death long before love, how could you deny fate when it came wrapped in a 6’3 package with a crimson bow on top..made men made the underground world go round and yours just so happened to be a bit off its axis..

His very own Miss Universe. The epitome of black beauty and radiance, and he loved you. For all the things that were terribly wrong and fucked up in his life, you were that one right thing in his world that kept him grounded and humble. He loved you for all your weird quirks and interests, for all your loud laughs and giggles, and yet life was telling him yet again that he couldn’t have it all.

Why did the two of you deserve to pay for the past grievances of your families? Why did the two of you have to pay for something that y’all weren’t alive to experience? People were trying to keep her out of his reach, without knowing how far he’d go to get her. No limits. No fucks given for the lives he’d take so they had better stay out of his way. No more separation from her. He couldn’t live that way, couldn’t live without her.

She was worth the trouble, she was worth the risk.

Hands tapping lightly against the steering wheel of his 1969 Ford Mustang. Smoke billowing in the cabin of the car from his cigar. He had learned early on that patience was a virtue and honing it for the right moment made all the difference. He was watching and waiting for his cue, a signal from his baby. It was such a shame he had to even go to such lengths to bust her out of that prison they called her home. A sit down was what he was hoping for, a little chat of some sort to get down to the bottom of this bullshit. So much bull shit. Terry knew who he had to have it with and he played out how things might go in his head, but he’d take any chance if it meant peace with her.

A light switched on and off twice in the living room of the house. His signal..and a sign that things might not be going so smoothly inside for her. He blew out a stressed breath before he stepped out of his car, frustrations were running high but he tried to remain calm and let the bite from the wind chill his hot head. They were supposed to be on the road by now. Long gone and doused in the warm sun deep in Jamaica. A retreat..an escape from this life, and her Valentine’s Day gift. Yet here he was February 13th a day before…bulllshit. His long black leather trench coat blew in the wind as he advanced towards her childhood home.

You

Things were bad again between you and your aunt. The packed bags and visible passport sent her into a fit of rage. Only this time you met her frenzied haze of nasty words and disappointment with your own anger. You were beyond fed up, her constant overprotective nature and disregard for your feelings was wearing you down.

“What? You thought I was gonna just let you run off with that boy…he’s no good?!”

“You never even tried to get to know him, you’re a fucking hypocrite, you’re ruining my damn life and you don’t even care!” Wet hot tears streamed from your face endlessly, your body running high on emotions and you were lightheaded from all the yelling.

“I know enough about his family that I shouldn’t have ever let you get close to him! You don’t know what you think you do and I’m sick of repeating myself.”

“Yet again you're speaking in a riddle like I’m some child..tell me the truth. If you care for me how you so often claim. Tell. Me. The. Truth.” Your fingers hit your palm after every word. Beyond fed up with your aunt's silly little rants, this was not going to be how you continued to live your life.

A heavy knock at the front door shut her mouth before she could lie again. The knock was loud and solid, but knowing who resided on the other side of it made your hammering heartbeat calm down enough for you to finally breathe.

Your protector.

Your calm in the loud world.

Your Terry.

You rushed to open the door, almost pulling it clean from its hinges in your rush to get there before your aunt. Leathered hands reached for you and pulled you into his embrace, the smooth cool leather not hiding the rapid thump of his heartbeat. He was angry too..and rightfully so.

“Are you ok..did anybody put their hands on you?” He fired off questions quickly and I shook my head no before he placed me behind him and stepped into the house.

“You’re not welcomed here..bold of you to show your goddamn face.”

“I’m welcomed wherever she is. Because unlike you I have her best interest..period.” You watched him reach down and set a timer on his wristwatch before he rolled his tense shoulders.

“Five minutes. That’s how long you get to tell your niece the truth, or I will. Tell her why you can’t bear to look me in my face…why you can’t tell her the truth after 25 fucking years of raising her.”

Vanessa; your aunt stared daggers at Terry. She reached into her purse and pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A sign that she was getting overly irritated and anxious but you could care less. She owed you this and so much more. She pat the bottom of the pack before pulling one out and quickly lighting it.

“ I don’t owe her or you a motherfucking thing. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d watch your next words carefully.” Deflection. It was typical with her.

“Tick-Tock auntie, you do it or I will.” His usual smile ridden face was still and frozen in anger. A stark difference from the man you cracked jokes with.

“You damn Richmond men..always coming around taking what doesn’t belong to you. A bunch of no good ass niggas!” More riddles. More rage.

“Tell her how your obsessive and lustful behavior behind my uncle put her mother and father in harm's way. How you knew he actually wanted her but you didn’t mind playing the back field just as long as you were around him.” And there it was, the truth that for some reason I wasn’t owed. The reason my parents were murdered.

“Tell her! How even though you knew her mother had no interest in my uncle, you still planted those seeds into his head that got her parents murdered..you knew he couldn’t take her rejecting him and you sat back and watched this unfold anyways.”

Sobs escaped your mouth and threatened to choke me with their escape. The truth really did hurt and right not that pain was feeling more physical than mental. All that time without the truth..without your parents. Your child would never know this kind of pain and despair. You pulled the white mohair cardigan tightly around your little bump. You and Terry were going half on God's greatest gift to earth…something to live for and do better for. Your sole reason for wanting to get the hell away from this place. You had done your time here tenfold, it was time to get away and raise your baby with your fiancé.

“Go put your bags in the car baby..I’ll be right behind you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and handed your bags to you.

“Hmm so you just gonna choose that nigga over your own flesh, how are you any different from me neice?”

I rushed over to rearrange her face but Terry grabbed me and pulled me to him. My shaking hands were covered by his large ones and I let their warmth mingled in with his protective gaze soothe me.

“Remember what we’re fighting for, baby. She’s not worth it, you know that, it’s just me, you, and our future.” He bent down into a squat and pressed a kiss to my belly, whispering kind words and affirmations to it.

“That baby will have his last name… his DNA. That’s no family of mine. You leave this house,you're dead to me girl!”

“I’m counting on it.” And with that you grabbed Terry's car keys and slowly carried all your belongings outside. Freedom at last.

Terry

“I haven’t heard from Terrell in a week, what did you do to him? I’ll have your body parts scattered from here to fucking South America..don’t test me boy!”

“My uncle is dead..and if you don’t want to meet the same fate as him I’d advise you to watch what you say next Vanessa. This is the bed you made, lay in it.”

“Terrell was a good man! He had his bad days, name a person that doesn’t…he loved me and you took him from me!” More deluded thoughts of “love” but what this really was was a sick obsession.

“My uncle was a sorry ass nigga. A scum that deserved to be wiped clean from this earth…behind her you gotta know I’ll get rid of anybody so please don’t be so surprised.”

Terry stepped into your room and headed to her walk-in closet where she had the rest of her valuables packed and tucked into a corner. He slung the duffel bags over his shoulder and grasped the photo album containing pictures of her and her parents before walking from the room. Vanessa sat in the recliner near the window watching Y/n settle into the passenger seat. Envy written across her face clear as day. She wanted what she couldn’t have, so she had planned to live vicariously through her niece. But those days were over.

“For what it's worth, she really did love you. Long before you broke her heart and crushed her dreams, you meant something to her once upon a time.” She squinted her eyes at him and walked over to stand toe to toe with him. Smoke from her cigarette blowing out of her pity and into his face.

“Get out of my house. And if you or her return to this city I won’t stop her uncles from going after either of you.”

Terry simply smirked to himself before walking away and out into the cold air. The constant purr of his car welcoming him back.

“Where will we go?” He stared into her pretty shining eyes, hands stroking her cheek.

“The time I had to spend away from you…I had something built for us, a haven. I promised you a home to raise our child in, someplace silent and serene. That place is ready love.”

“Baby you have to secure her head first..I promise you won’t break her.” You laughed softly at the panicked look on Terry’s face as you slid your one month old daughter into his arms.

Peace and bliss had befallen you and Terry those last months of your pregnancy. As he promised he had you nestled away in the beautiful woods of Fairburn, Georgia. The 3,000 square foot lake house sat on the Chattahoochee River smack dead in the middle of two acres of land ; it had a wrap-around porch and had three bedrooms and bathrooms. Your pregnancy was safe and your baby was healthy because of it, the quiet air surrounding you was a safety net.

You found peace everywhere on the property. Sitting on the front porch sipping your favorite red wine,arranging a savory dinner on the marble island in your kitchen, splashing your feet into the river while your fire pit crackled beside you, or those sweet nights where you laid in bed curled into the hard ridges of your fiancés body. Now your favorite times were spent nursing your daughter Clark, and adjusting to and loving the everlasting changes of motherhood. The love between you and Terry grew constantly and sometimes you’d wonder how it was even possible to love someone with every fiber of your being…how you could love everything about him.

“That little eyebrow arch she does is all you, and she thinks it’s so funny…hi my little dumpling aren’t you just the funniest sweet thing.” Your squeaky baby voice had Terry chuckling as you moved away to prepare her bottle. You poured the cooled breast milk into a four ounce bottle before placing it inside a bottle warmer to be heated. You squirted a bit on your wrist to test its temperature before walking into the living room and handing it to Terry. You watched her as her little hungry coos filled the living room and her tiny hands reached up to pull in her father’s shirt.

You munched on oatmeal chocolate chip lactation cookies and stroked the fine hairs along his neck. “Thank you for rescuing me. All I had to do was mention my situation one time,you never questioned me,never hesitated, all you did was act. I’m blessed that Clark has you for a father, she won’t ever feel what I felt growing up.”

“You thank me? I did what a man was supposed to do love, you don’t see that light around you..that light that binds me to you. I’ve killed for you…and to keep this peace I’d do it again. Because there is no price too high to pay for what you give me, what you just gave me.” He racked down and pecked a kiss onto the baby’s head before pulling you in for a tender kiss.

“We’re raising our daughter together, she’ll always have us…always feel the love we have for her. She's gonna grow up here and never have to lift a finger. She’ll be beautiful and smart just like her mommy because that’s what we intend for her.”

“And so it will be darling…next on our list the wedding”

“You ready to become Mrs.Richmond and give me a bunch of babies?”

“I’ve been Mrs.Richmond since we were seventeen having baseball tournaments in the park.. I loved you then and I still do…and I’ll give you a hundred babies, pretty boy.”

“Mm you want me to lay Clark down so we can work on number two right now..I think she wants a sibling, look at that face.” He held her up and matched the cute pouty expression on her face.

“My baby said no such thing..but mommy does need some loving from daddy. Can you have her down in ten minutes?”

He put her in the crook of his arm and began rocking her slowly. “Make it five, and put that new lace set on…I wanna tear it off you.”

You took off running towards your shared room and slipped into the racy pink set. You sank into the plush bed giggling softly to yourself. Thank god for made men…

@kirayuki22 @uniqueoutlierblog @rose-bliss @kaylalb @blackpinup22 @henneseyhoe @slvt4her @ruewritesoccasionally @writingsbytee @melalsworld @mauvecherie-writes @venusincleo @meadowshelby @cocooned-butterfly @playgurlxoxo @piscesdashcam @otfniah @23jammy @that-one-anxious-mango @ch33z3grits @melosliving @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kenshisluvrgirl @rawflwrs @becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @yassbishimvintage @pocketsizedpanther @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

#Spotify #aaron pierre #terry richmond #black women #rebel ridge #mafia!terry #aaron pierre x black reader #valentines day #made men #nayaesworld

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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 1 day ago

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HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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ravens-two · 3 days ago

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PAC: What Will Sex be Like with your Person? (18+)

This reading includes:

how sex will be like with your person

The extended reading includes:

dirty talk with your person

what they will think/feel during sex

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

telepatía - Kali Uchis

Three of Swords, Page of Swords, Ten of Cups

You have such a dreamy vibe, pile 1. The energy here is almost Pisces like, you seem like a very sensitive soul and a dreamy person. I think that during sex you tend to use a very soft, breathy voice that contributes to this dreamy vibe. I also get this vibe that with this person in particular you're not just fucking them, you're fucking their mind too, if that makes sense. It's because with you and your partner the seduction game isn't just about the body, it's also the mind. Before the foreplay even begins you're both already seducing one another with your words. It's hard to put into words but this isn't just dirty talk, you know? It's something deeper that leaves you both crazy for each other because it makes you appreciate your partner so very much. Maybe you both get off on each other's intellect.

I think that in your sex life with your partner everything moves quite slowly. The buildup is slow - maybe even happens throughout the whole day for some of you - but the act itself is slow too. You're both very interested in getting the most out of it, so you want to enjoy and appreciate every single moment. This is not the pile for people who enjoy quickies, in fact I don't think that your person would even enjoy it that much.

For this pile I'm also seeing a lot of sexting, sending sexy photos and videos. For some in this pile you might be in a long distance relationship, so phone sex is just a part of it by default. But for others is just because you like to tease during the day so that you and your partner are as needy as possible. On that note, the song needy by Ariana Grande is also coming up.

With the Three of Swords here something that's coming up is pain and bondage. This is going to be different for everyone, of course. For some of you this might be actual BDSM, spanking or getting spanked by your partner, shibari, etc. But, in general, I think that it's something a little milder for most people in this pile. I feel like your partner enjoys holding down your wrists or putting you in handcuffs, and giving your ass or your thigh a smack every once in a while. Again, something milder, more playful rather than intense. In general, for this pile I also think that you tend to be a little more "submissive" than your partner - and honestly what I mean by this is that your partner tends to take initiate more during sex.

No matter what, sex between you and your partner is focused on the love and intense feelings you have for each other. It's a very dreamy and loving experience for the both of you. But more than that, it's also a healing experience for you both, especially if you've been through a traumatic experience.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 2

La Tortura - Shakira

Two of Cups, King of Pentacles, Death

Pile 2, oof, I had to take a deep breath because your energy is so strong and so damn sexy. Like, damn, your vibe is something else. You can picture Shakira, Megan Fox or even Salma Hayek - there's so many examples but those are the ones that came to me right now. Your energy is definitely the dominant one here. I think that your partner would get down on their knees and downright worship you if you let them. You're just that intense.

All of my piles are gender neutral, but for this pile I feel like most of you are women in a relationship with a man (but of course feel free to ignore this part if it doesn't apply!). I think that you walk that man like a dog. He may think that he's "the man" of the relationship, but you're the one actually holding the reins. You're the one that initiates sex more often than not, and your partner just follows after you like a lovesick little puppy desperate to fulfill your every desire. But I also get this vibe that your partner is ready to go whenever and he's just waiting for you to give the go ahead.

When it comes to the sex itself I have to begin by saying: unbelievable orgasms. For both you and your partner. It's so so good it almost feels like you're dying for a second there. You both might take a long time recovering afterwards from how intense it is. I also think that during the act although you're in a more dominant position, I think that you prefer to receive instead of giving. The amazing part is that your partner not only is fine with that, they absolutely love it. You just have to tell them what you want and they will do their very best to make it happen.

Something else that I'm picking up is that you're both very big on touch, so you're probably glued together during sex, exchanging caresses and kisses. You know that type of caress that starts from your hips and ends up on your boobs? That? I see a lot of that. Your partner adores your body and wants to touch as much as they can, but vice-versa. No matter if it's a man or a woman you also really adore your partner's body (and a little secret for you, your touch completely undoes them). If your partner is a man I see him being quite big.

In the end though, sex between you two is about pleasure of course, but also about showing love and appreciation for each other. It's never just fucking. There's a lot of love here. Also, even if you consider yourself to be a little more submissive your partner is just so crazy about you that to them nothing else matters - they just want to please you, not dominate you. I already said this, but your touch really undoes your partner. Like a very simple touch coming from you makes them whine and gets them closer than they'd like (especially the men).

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 3

Religion - Lana del Rey

Seven of Swords, King of Swords, Eight of Cups

Pile 3 for you I see two scenarios for you immediately. With this Eight of Cups you guys might be in a long distance relationship or your partner might be into edging. Because there's this sensation of longing here. You want something so very desperately and they don't want to give it to you/can't give it to you. (also, the image you chose is about a couple that will never see each other again, so there's this really "dramatic" energy of missing your person/their touch).

The other thing I'm picking up immediately with the Seven of Swords is that during sex you like being at your partner's mercy. It's this energy of giving yourself to them, allowing them to do what they want with you, because you just trust and love them so much. It's safe to say, that your energy is coming off more as submissive rather than anything else. You just trust in your partner's experience and in their caring nature to believe that they will never hurt you. This might lead you two to experiment with "riskier" things like breath play for example. But for others this can be even more intense with CNC scenarios, for example. You seem to like the idea of being at their mercy.

Aside from this, sex between you two seems to be a very pleasurable experience for you both, especially because your partner seems to have a lot of experience. They might have more experience than you, and that also makes you feel "guided" during the experience. During the act your partner might be a little harsher on you, more commanding, almost a little cold (and this seems like a big departure from who they really are as a person), but in the end your person really does like you very much.

Despite the more intense scenes that you'll probably be doing, there is never a sense that you're in danger or that you might be hurt. Both you and your partner have trust in each other, and a very good communication. You know that you could stop at any time. Also in reference that what I said before that your partner might seemed colder in the act, I think that you'll never feel as though they're being "mean" or wanting to hurt you, because there will be these little moments of reassurance and love between you.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 4

Juno - Sabrina Carpenter

Four of Swords, Knight of Wands, Ten of Wands

Pile 4 your energy is as playful as Sabrina Carpenter's. Everything seems so light and fun, even if you and your partner are trying out some crazy thing you've seen on the internet. By the way, I got this vibe that you two will sometimes see something and go like "hey, why don't we try that out?". The vibe here is so good honestly. There's a lot of giggling and joking even during the act, especially when there's a weird or funny noise. I actually even see your partner tickling you because you laughed at something they did.

Something interesting that's coming up is that your sex life is very different from the energy you project to other people as a couple. Maybe your partner is a very serious person in their day to day life (or you, or even both of you) and so everyone would expect that they would also be very serious during sex. But it's actually the opposite. For your partner this is a moment of deep connection but also of lightness, there's no reason to take sex so seriously when it's something that's to make you both feel good.

With this Knight of Wands, Ten of Wands combo you're two are probably going at it like rabbits. You'll have as many rounds as you possibly can until you both slump to the side unable to move. You both seem to have a lot of sexual energy - but maybe sometimes not at the same time. What I mean is that maybe on one day your partner has a really high libido, but you not so much (and vice-versa). So, when this happens you have to find a balance that will satisfy you both.

In general, your energy is just so playful. You'll try anything at least once, even if it doesn't really end up working out or if you don't like it. Like, I'm getting the mental image of a couple trying out spanking, but they just can't stop giggling. Because again, it's not that serious. It's supposed to be fun. This isn't to say that there won't be serious moments, it's just that most of the time the energy is lighter. You're the only pile where I'm getting positions and I mainly see cowgirl, to be honest. But again, you two seem to experiment a lot. When it comes to dominant or submissive energy, I don't think it's clear in your pile. Both you and your partner are happy to play around with it, so maybe we could say that you're both switches.

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#tarot #pac reading #pick a card #tarot reading #pac #pick a pile #18+ readings #18+ pac #fs pick a card #fs pick a pile #love tarot free

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floralfishscales · 3 days ago

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Back when I lived in the city (am a country boy now) I would go for walks at night cuz I hated where I was and I would pass apartments and see pretty lights, usually the LED strip lights, occasionally a set of Christmas or fairy lights, and I would stop my walk look up in awe and take a picture (my favourite was when they had plants in the widows that were just a silhouette in the foreground of the different lights, and I would open my camera on my phone and take a picture. My favourite was the deep oranges, pinks or green lights (because you could tell it wasn’t a tv) and I would just flip through those photos and admire them thinking of a simple life and how life can be a beautiful thing even if I hated mine and where I was. It made me hopeful and optimistic for a different taste of life and better times to come, and I would show the pictures to my friends hoping they would understand the simplistic beauty of being an animal enjoying pretty colours. They would usually then call me weird and creepy for taking pictures of people’s homes and windows and say it’s ‘illegal’ to do something like that and I would tell them I could walk into city hall if I really wanted to and ask to see the blueprints of the house layout, which didn’t really help my case,, but it’s not illegal to take a picture of something beautiful, like Christmas lights or Halloween decorations, in fact it’s another simple part of our experiences as humans, and some things I want to remember for when I fall back into those moments of unbearable depression, and can look to find a small way out of it anyhow that’s my TED talk on seeing beautiful things in the mundane byeee

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jezebelblues · 21 hours ago

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(𝟏) 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆𐙚₊˚

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲? 𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬.

𝐂𝐖: 18+ SERIES! age gap unspecified but everyone is legal, allusions to smut (in this part), fem!reader, innocent!reader, slight angst, not proof read.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8.7k

❏ this is kinda just an introductory to this 🤨 but this also me testing the waters to see what kind of response it gets. i tried to give it a little more substance instead of just making it controversially young gf smut. but lmk if u only care for the smut fr. aiming for this to be a 3 parter possibly if anyone actually reads. okay bye love u

(be patient with me i do not have a writing schedule D: it’s just vibes over here)

there were things in life that demanded to be named. not as a matter of understanding, but as an act of survival. temptation. desire. guilt. words so small they barely held the weight of the emotions they described. words that felt inadequate against the reality of their presence, sharp-edged and infinite. harry had spent years pretending these things were separate—different flavors, distinct experiences—but now, in the quiet spaces between reason and instinct, he realized they were one and the same.

desire wasn’t the sweet fruit hanging low on the tree, waiting for him to pluck it. it was a persistent root that had grown into his bones, twisting through his ribs, wrapping around his heart. temptation wasn’t the serpent in the garden; it was the soil itself, fertile and dark, daring him to plant something reckless.

thou mayest. the illusion of freedom wrapped in the guise of agency. it was a promise of autonomy that demanded surrender. harry turned the phrase over in his mind like a stone, rough against his palm, smooth on the other side. it sounded noble, to choose. to be good, even when depravity tasted sweeter. but to choose implied that choice was ever truly his.

the idea unsettled him. if the end was written, if he was meant to fall, then what purpose was there in resisting? if the flame was always there, waiting for the moth, could he be blamed for burning?

but harry frowned at the notion, rejecting it like the apple beginning to rot. to believe it was inevitable was to strip himself of accountability. it was to call it fate instead of what it really was—a weakness he didn’t want to name aloud.

yet even as he denied inevitability, he could feel it breathing down his neck. the soft pull of gravity every time her eyes met his, wide and unguarded. her sweetness wasn’t like the syrupy fiction he had always known, too thick to be real. it was raw, unpolished, pure in its lack of pretense. he wanted to protect it, to shelter it, but how could he when his hands itched to touch it, to ruin it, to mark it as his?

guilt and desire were two sides of the same coin he couldn’t stop flipping. the choices felt infinite and yet singular, converging on her—the catalyst, the temptation, the embodiment of his undoing.

he tried not to touch her, not to look too long, but the world conspired against him. his name on her lips sounded like an offering. her laughter felt like a secret. the way she walked, talked, breathed—it all felt intentional, even though he knew it wasn’t. she was innocent of his thoughts. she had no idea the storm she brought to life in him.

and maybe that’s what made her so dangerous. because he had spent years building walls, convincing himself that control was his greatest virtue. but her presence felt like water—slowly eroding the stone, finding its way into the cracks he didn’t know existed.

he wanted to believe he had a choice. that he could walk away, untouched, untempted. but every step closer to her felt like destiny disguised as coincidence. her smile was a trap, but it was one he wanted to fall into, knowing full well there would be no escape.

harry thought of the apple in the garden. the lie it told about choice. the way it beckoned, its skin gleaming with the promise of sweetness. but the truth was, it wasn’t the apple that made him fall. it was the hunger that had always lived inside him.

thou mayest. the words tasted bitter now. because in the end, he knew he wouldn’t choose. he would only follow.

and maybe, he thought, that was its own kind of freedom.

— BOSTON

there were a thousand ways to love someone.

it wasn’t a single language. it was a mosaic of dialects, some of which he spoke fluently, others he fumbled through, and some he would never master. it came to him in whispers, in roaring applause, in soft apologies spoken under foreign moons. love, in its rawest forms, could be a sonnet sung aloud or the silence between breaths. it could bloom in the mundane, sprouting like ivy through the cracks of familiarity. but it could also unravel—untethered and wild—until it swallowed everything else whole.

now, though, it felt like a question he didn't know how to answer.

he had known it to be beautiful once, grand and uncompromising, like a symphony crashing through the walls of his chest. but now? now it felt softer, quieter. less a roar and more a whisper in the back of his mind, laced with something he couldn’t quite place.

april on the east coast was no season for romance. it was damp with promise, hesitant in its thaw. the skies hung low with slate-colored clouds, heavy but refusing rain, and the mornings were gray and cold enough to bite. it wasn’t exactly the kind of spring that painted postcards, but it had its own charm—the kind of charm that settled not in sight, but in sound. in the low hum of city life, the rush of trains cutting through tunnels, the steady rhythm of days repeating themselves.

this time, though, harry was restless.

juniper had left with a kiss on his cheek and a laugh in her voice, her belly round with new beginnings, her flight booked to london. “don’t let it go to your head,” she’d teased, pointing a playful finger at him. “just because you’re losing me doesn’t mean you’ll fall apart.”

he hadn’t fallen apart. not exactly.

but the void she left behind was wide, even if temporary, and it was her replacement who filled it.

YN arrived on a wednesday.

he had two days before the show. no real obligations until then, aside from this—meeting his new hair and makeup artist, seeing if she knew what she was doing before she had to work on him before a live performance.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pushed open the door to his dressing room.

she was already there.

he paused for a fraction of a second, not expecting to see her yet. she stood near the vanity, back straight, hands clasped together in front of her, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. on the counter beside her was a cup—one of those paper to-go cups, the kind that came from some overpriced café.

she turned when he entered, eyes widening slightly before she offered a small, polite smile.

“hi.” her voice was soft, a little hesitant. “i’m YN.”

he took a few steps inside, nodding once. “harry.”

she nodded back, exhaling quickly, like she was trying to steady herself. then, she gestured toward the cup.

“i got you a latte,” she started. “i—i wasn’t sure what you usually drink, but i thought it might be nice. to—y’know. start off on the right foot.”

he glanced at the cup, then at her.

she was nervous. he could see it in the way she shifted her weight slightly, in the way she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

it was a nice thought.

but he hadn’t touched dairy in years.

he didn’t say that, though. didn’t want to embarrass her. instead, he just gave her a small, appreciative nod.

he reached for it, offering a gentle smile. “thanks.”

she looked relieved when he took it, her smile relaxing a little.

harry held the cup, feeling the warmth of it against his palm. he could smell it, the sweetness of whatever syrup she’d probably had them put in. vanilla, maybe. something soft.

he set it down on the vanity without taking a sip.

YN didn’t seem to notice, already turning to grab her kit.

“so,” she breathed, glancing at him as she unzipped it, “juniper gave me some notes on what you like. she said you prefer a really natural look.”

harry nodded, lowering himself into the chair. “yeah. don’t like when it feels too heavy.”

“got it,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, before pulling out a few brushes.

he watched her in the mirror as she worked, as she moved with careful, practiced hands.

she was quiet at first, focused. then, after a minute, she glanced at him.

“have you always done your own hair?”

he blinked, caught slightly off guard. “what?”

“your hair,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly through the strands. “juniper said you’re pretty particular about it. that you usually style it yourself.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “yeah.”

she smiled a little, just a flicker, before returning her focus to her work.

harry swallowed.

this was fine.

just a job.

just another day before a show.

but the latte sat untouched on the counter, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

harry had a feeling she’d linger with it.

there was just something about her, something that felt unguarded. almost naive.

she wasn’t, not entirely—he learned that quickly. she had edges, sharp ones when needed, but she wielded them sparingly. the rest of the time, she was all soft hands and big eyes, a honeyed warmth that seeped into everything she touched.

and harry?

harry was careful not to touch her at all.

there was a distance he liked to keep, a careful line between himself and everyone else. not because he didn’t care—he cared more than he’d admit—but because he knew what could happen when he let someone too close.

still, she had a way of leaning past those lines. not intentionally, but like ivy, like roots. like something that simply grew.

by the time april had given way to may, harry found himself watching her more than he should.

she hummed when she worked, soft melodies that floated through the room like ghosts of songs she couldn’t name. she wrote everything down in a little notebook, scribbling furiously with a pen that always seemed to run out of ink at the worst times.

he’d caught her once, shaking it with a frustrated pout, her lips pressed together in concentration.

“you alright there?” he’d asked, the words slipping out before he could think better of it.

she’d blinked up at him, startled, and then laughed, “another losing battle with this pen.”

“you have t’tap it against your forehead twice.” he’d replied, biting back a smile.

her eyebrows furrowed, but she did it anyway—lightly tapping the clicky part against her head, glancing at harry before trying to write again.

of course it didn’t work. he was just messing with her—wanted to see if she fell for it, wanted to see if she’d listen.

it was easy to fall into moments like that with her.

too easy.

thou mayest. a soft hand offering an apple, a question left unanswered. but he had his own questions, ones that wrapped themselves around his throat and refused to let go.

there were a thousand ways to love someone, and harry had spent his life learning only a fraction of them. though sometimes he wondered if he’d been learning them for her.

— EDINBURGH

he had always thought of temptation as a slow build, like the simmering heat of a kettle left on the stove, a soft whistle at first that could grow into a shrieking insistence if ignored too long. but that night, in the quiet sprawl of his hotel suite, it didn’t simmer. it coiled.

the city welcomed them with a gray drizzle and jet lag that stuck to the skin like damp clothes. the flight over had been long, hours stretched taut over time zones and turbulence, and by the time he made it to the room, he wanted nothing more than to shed the weight of travel.

his suitcase lay half-open on the floor, a quiet surrender to the fatigue he couldn’t shake. a glass of water sat on the bedside table, untouched, condensation pooling beneath it. harry stretched out on the mattress, arms behind his head, eyes closed but nowhere near sleep. the city murmured beyond the window—a muted symphony of car horns and distant voices—and he let it play in the background.

his phone buzzed.

yn: did you get back to the hotel okay?

he smiled faintly at the screen, her name like a flame too warm to look at directly. his fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he responded.

harry: all 10 fingers and toes. safe and sound.

harry: you get back okay?

the reply came almost instantly, her eagerness spilling into the space between them.

yn: mhmmm. i’m just brainstorming a few ideas for upcoming shows :) if you give me a penny, i’ll give you my thoughts.

a laugh huffed through his nose.

harry: consider a penny given, then.

he settled deeper into the bed, phone balanced in his hand as he waited. the seconds stretched into minutes, the screen dimming twice before the vibration returned. when it did, it wasn’t just one text, but a cascade—a waterfall of thoughts so uniquely hers that he could almost hear her voice speaking them aloud.

it was color theory, ideas layered with excitement, messily typed but earnest. how the blues of certain lighting might dull the warmth of his skin, or how curls framing his face might draw more focus to his eyes.

yn: does that make sense?

he hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

harry: absolutely. honored to work with such talent.

her suggestions were good—better than good, really. but it wasn’t the content that had his heart pacing against the walls of his chest. it was the way she thought of him in terms of details. the curve of his hair, the way light caught in his eyes. how she looked at him as if he were something to be fine-tuned, polished, perfected.

he set the phone down, staring at the darkened ceiling.

it wasn’t the first time he’d felt it, the pull of her presence. she had a way of moving through spaces as though she belonged in all of them. she was sharp where it mattered and soft everywhere else, a tangle of contradictions that didn’t feel contradictory at all.

he wasn’t blind to it, either—the closeness, the fleeting touches she didn’t seem to think twice about, the way her laughter lingered in rooms after she left them.

and yet, he couldn’t let himself fall. not into this.

his hand twitched toward the phone again. temptation was a voice now, low and insistent, curling in his gut. he thought of her in her room, probably cross-legged on the bed with her notebook splayed open and a pencil tucked behind her ear, her face alight with whatever new idea had struck her.

she was likely still wearing the hoodie from the plane, the one she had pulled over her knees to keep warm. she had smiled at him through the terminal, soft and shy, a blush touching her cheeks as she said goodnight.

his phone buzzed again.

yn: i think the messy curls could make your eyes look softer. i’m rambling, sorry! just a thought :)

it wasn’t fair, really. the way she existed so effortlessly, the way she lingered in his mind long after she’d left the room.

but temptation had a thousand faces, and tonight, it wore hers.

harry: never stop rambling.

— GLASGOW

it felt colder than it should have for may. the overcast sky hung low, gray and swollen, threatening rain that would inevitably come. harry didn’t mind it, though—he liked how the cold made his skin prickle, how it made the air feel cleaner when he breathed it in. but more than that, he liked how it kept everyone huddled indoors, tucked into the warmth of the stadium where soundchecks were already underway.

YN was perched on a stool near the mirrors, her knees pulled up just enough to keep her feet from dangling. she had been quiet all morning, focused, her delicate fingers meticulously painting tiny daisies onto the nail of his pinky.

“some steady hands there.”

she glanced up at him, and for a moment, her cheeks burned pink. “i have to. can’t mess up, right?”

“you could,” he mumbled, leaning forward slightly, his tone teasing. “might not mind.”

her lips twitched, barely concealing a smile, but she quickly ducked her head back down, letting her hair fall into her face like a curtain. it was something she did often, he noticed, as if she were hiding—not just from him but from something bigger.

he didn’t press. not yet.

“what color’s next?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the neat little bottles lined up on the counter.

“yellow,” she replied softly. “you said you wanted bright.”

“a sunshine yellow, then.” he watched her carefully as she reached for the polish, her fingers trembling ever so slightly before she steadied them again. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

her hand froze midair, and he swore he saw her breath hitch. she looked up at him then, her wide eyes meeting his, and he felt it again—that pull.

“what?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“you’re sweet,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smirks. “makes me wonder if anyone’s ever told you that before.”

she blinked, her lashes fluttering like the wings of a moth caught too close to a flame. “i–i don’t know.”

his smile deepened, but there was no malice in it, only warmth. “well, you are. just thought you should know.”

YN turned her attention back to his nails, her head bowed so low now he could only see the crown of it. the pink flush on her cheeks had deepened, spreading to the tips of her ears.

he liked that. he liked how easily she reacted to him, how her softness made him feel like he could step closer without shattering her completely. but he also hated it, hated how it clawed at his resolve, making him forget all the reasons he’d told himself to stay away.

when she finished the daisies, she leaned back, examining her work with a satisfied little nod. “done.”

“you’re sure?” he asked, lifting his hand and turning it this way and that, letting the light catch the glossy polish.

“positive.”

“looks perfect,” he said, though this time he wasn’t teasing. “thank you.”

her lips parted, just slightly, like she wasn’t sure what to say.

before she could speak, the sharp click of the dressing room door broke the moment, and jeff stuck his head inside.

“five minutes, harry,” he called, already looking at his phone as he spoke. “got people waiting.”

he nodded, his expression unchanged, though the moment felt heavier now, disrupted by the intrusion. “right. cheers.”

jeff disappeared again, the door clicking shut behind him.

he stood, stretching his arms above his head, and caught the way YN watched him out of the corner of her eye before quickly looking away.

“i’ll get you something from the vending machine.” he mentioned casually, already fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

her head snapped up. “you don’t have to—”

“hush,” he interrupted, grinning now. he stepped closer, reaching for her hand, and put four quarters into her palm. “you’ll need this. unless y’plan on charming the machine into spitting one out for free.”

her fingers curled around the coins, and she blinked up at him, her lips parting as if to argue. but she didn’t. instead, she offered him a soft, grateful smile.

“thank you.”

he only hummed as she slipped the quarters into her pocket and hopped off the stool, glancing at him one last time before heading for the door. when she was gone, the room felt too still, the faint trace of her perfume lingering like an echo.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. his nails gleamed in the fluorescent light, the little daisies smiling up at him like they knew something he didn’t.

meanwhile, the vending machines would glow faintly at the far end of the hallway, their soft hum breaking the quiet. YN shuffled closer, her shoes padding lightly against the concrete floor.

but the faint creak of a door opening behind her made her pause, her head turning toward the sound.

he was there again, stepping into the hallway and heading the opposite direction.

harry moved with the kind of unhurried confidence that made it seem like the space around him belonged to him and him alone. his legs carried him in long strides, the sharp crimson of his trousers catching the dull overhead lights with every step. the matching red suspenders hung loose, swinging lazily at his sides, as though he’d been interrupted mid-motion while shrugging them up.

his shirt was unassuming—blue and striped, halfheartedly buttoned. the fabric clung to the broad line of his shoulders before softening at his waist, tucked neatly into his trousers. the buttons stopped low, of course, just enough to reveal the sharp dip of his collarbones and a teasing stretch of bare skin below.

YN’s eyes lingered longer than they should have, tracing the slope of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin, the way the fabric shifted across his back when he moved. it was unfair, really, how tall he seemed here, how he could fill even the emptiest hallway with his presence.

he hadn’t noticed her yet. his head was down, focused, his mouth pressed into a line of mild concentration. whatever jeff had needed him for was probably important, judging by the speed of his stride.

but then, as though he’d sensed it, he looked up.

their eyes met briefly—just a flicker, but it was enough.

harry’s pace slowed for a fraction of a second, his brows lifting in faint recognition as his gaze settled on her. he didn’t smile, not fully, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he might’ve.

YN felt her stomach twist, that now-familiar warmth creeping up her neck and blooming across her cheeks. she wasn’t sure why she felt caught, like she’d been caught looking when she hadn’t meant to.

“get your cola yet?” his voice carried down the hall.

she managed to shake her head, “not yet.”

“better hurry, then,” he nodded toward her, resuming his stride. “press’ll be crawling through soon.”

he didn’t wait for her response, his figure already retreating, his strides long and effortless as he disappeared around the corner.

YN let out a slow, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers unclenching one by one. she glanced down at the quarters in her palm, their edges pressing faint imprints into her skin.

when she turned back to the vending machines, the glow seemed a little brighter, the hum a little louder, but the air in the hallway still felt heavy. she slid the coins into the slot one at a time, their metallic clinks echoing in her ears, and pressed the button for a coke.

her fingers closed around the bottle, and for a moment, she stood there, staring at the blurred reflection of herself in the machine’s plexiglass. her cheeks were still flushed, her heartbeat uneven—only harry could manage such a reaction without even doing anything.

he wasn’t even looking, she thought, shaking her head as she straightened up. he wasn’t even looking anymore. but it didn’t matter, not really. her stomach still fluttered like it always did.

she kept herself busy while harry was off handling whatever jeff had thrown his way. it was easy, most days—finding small things to do in the dressing room, small tasks that helped settle the nervous energy she always seemed to carry.

she tucked loose bits of makeup back into their designated compartments, straightened the mess of brushes and bottles that had accumulated along the counters. the quiet helped, too, though she occasionally paused, distracted by the faint voices coming from the small television mounted on the wall.

the scottish accents were thick and lilting, pulling her attention away entirely when she let herself linger too long. she’d tilt her head toward the screen, catching snippets of an old comedy show she didn’t recognize, before shaking herself out of it and returning to her task.

her coke was still cold against her palm, condensation slicking the skin of her fingers as she took small, absentminded sips. but when she ran out of things to tidy, out of ways to fill the silence, she left the dressing room, wandering through the backstage halls.

this was a habit of hers, especially in new places. she liked exploring, even if the halls all tended to look the same—narrow and gray, the faint hum of activity reverberating off the walls.

voices carried from somewhere distant, bouncing in ways that made it impossible to pinpoint their origin. she walked slowly, her free arm occasionally brushing against the rough cinderblock walls.

then she stopped.

her eyes caught on something hung up on the wall—a plaque with a faded photo and an inscription below it. she stepped closer, squinting to make out the worn text, her head tilting slightly as she read. it must’ve been a gift to the stadium years ago, a relic from a time before she was even born.

the faint hum of voices seemed to grow louder as she stared, but she didn’t move. her thoughts wandered as she read the plaque’s history, the drink cool in her hand, her sneakers shifting on concrete like she couldn’t bear to stand still.

but after a beat, she decided she’d seen enough.

she spun on her heel, ready to continue her aimless walk, but she bumped into something solid before she even realized she wasn’t alone.

“oh!” she gasped softly, jerking back slightly, enough to regain balance.

it wasn’t just something solid—it was someone.

harry.

his hand brushed against her shoulder instinctively, steadying her with a light touch that felt more deliberate than it probably was. he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced down at her.

“didn’t see y’there, sweetheart.”

the word hit her square in the chest—not the casual murmur of her name he usually used but something gentler, more pointed. he rarely called her that, maybe once every few days at most, and it always left her struggling to figure out if he meant anything by it.

she blinked up at him, still flustered, her heart kicking up in her ribs as she took a step back. he towered over her, as always, broad and imposing in such a narrow place. the suspenders she’d seen earlier were in place now, stretched over his shoulders, accentuating the sharp lines of his frame. and even though she’d only finished fixing his hair a short while ago, it already looked tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it more than once.

her cheeks heated, but she smiled anyway, nodding toward the plaque on the wall in an effort to distract herself. “was lookin’ at this.”

he followed her line of sight, the faint curve of his mouth lingering as he took a moment to glance it over. “from the old firm game,” he muttered, “back in ‘39.”

“oh.” she breathed, her eyes darting between him and the plaque.

“not to be confused with the old firm of ‘71,” he added, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at her fully.

YN’s eyebrows furrowed as she tilted her head, trying to place the significance.

he leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing hers lightly as he continued, “–where a bunch of people died.”

the words were said so casually that it took a second for them to register, and by the time they did, he was already walking off.

she gasped, following after him, “what do you mean?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “people died here?”

he glanced back at her briefly, his expression unreadable, though his lips still carried the faintest hint of amusement. “mm-hmm.”

“well…what happened?” she pressed, quickening her pace to match his.

instead of answering, he slowed just enough to turn toward her, his hand reaching out with an ease that made her breath catch. without a word, he plucked the coke from her hand, his fingers brushing hers for the tiniest moment before he raised it to his lips.

“stadium disaster,” he said finally, his voice calm, ending with the quietest of sighs from his swallow.

he handed the bottle back to her with the same ease, his fingers grazing hers again as the cool glass settled back into her hand.

“that’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “just stadium disaster? that’s all you’re giving me?”

he glanced down at her, “you’ve got a phone, haven’t you?”

“well…” she paused, the faintest of frowns on her lips, “you can’t just drop a bomb on me ‘nd walk away.”

he chuckled, pushing open the door leading back toward another corridor. “can’t i?”

YN opened her mouth to argue, but the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her standing there in the middle of the hallway.

she frowned further, tipping the bottle back to finish the last swallow before tossing it into the recycling bin with a soft clink. without much thought, her feet carried her toward the door he had disappeared through, her curiosity prickling like static under her skin.

it wasn’t that the news upset her, though the thought of people dying here was unsettling, sure. it was more that this stadium—the one they were standing in right now, bustling with life and noise—had that kind of history to it. stadium disaster. how vague. it wasn’t much to go on, and her mind raced with questions she couldn’t quite tamp down.

was it safe for harry to perform here? was it haunted, for god’s sake? and how did he know about it so casually, like it was the kind of trivia everyone carried around in their back pocket? was it some bit of history he’d picked up while preparing for the tour? or—she glanced down the hall, chewing her lip—was he just messing with her?

she pushed through another set of doors, the muffled hum of activity on the other side growing louder as it swung shut behind her. the hallway was wider here, brighter, with distant voices overlapping in a way that made it hard to pinpoint where they came from.

her eyes scanned the space ahead, searching for that familiar figure. he wasn’t hard to spot—tall and broad, the opposite of waldo.

“harry! wait, please!”

he slowed, turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. he smiled when he saw her, but he didn’t stop walking.

she huffed, her stride quickening against the floor as she caught up to him.

“s’not fair to tell me something crazy like that and leave me behind.”she mumbled, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“like what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he glanced down at her.

“stadium disaster,” she repeated, rolling the words on her tongue like they didn’t make sense. “what does that even mean?”

he shrugged, his steps slowing slightly to match hers. “means what it sounds like, doesn’t it?”

“but thats not really an answer, though.”

he stopped then, turning to face her fully, and the sudden weight of his attention made her heart stutter.

“happened after a football match,” he said, his tone even, almost conversational. “old firm derby. too many people trying to leave at once—crush at the exit. sixty-six dead.”

“sixty-six.” she echoed.

he nodded, his expression steady, though his eyes softened slightly when they met hers.

“and…they still use the stadium?”

“course they do.” he shrugged again, slipping his hands into his pockets. “was decades ago. fixed it up after.”

“but how do you know all that?”

his lips twitched, just slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost sheepish. “read about it some time ago. thought it was interesting.”

“interesting.” she mocked, shaking her head, though her lips curved faintly into a smile.

“don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “you asked.”

she let out a soft huff, though the faint smile still tugging at her lips betrayed her. before she could think of a retort, harry turned and began walking again, and she followed, of course.

his casual indifference to the conversation left her buzzing with curiosity. she hesitated for a moment before blurting, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“ghosts?”

“yeah,” she nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “you said all those people died here. i don’t know—places like that feel like they’d…hold on to something, don’t you think?”

his lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, something thoughtful. “you think this place is haunted?”

she shrugged, looking ahead instead of at him. “maybe. you don’t?”

“not really.” he said simply, his tone light but firm. “don’t reckon i’ve seen enough to believe in all that.”

she frowned, glancing up at him again. “you’ve never had anything weird happen? not even on tour?”

“plenty of weird happens on tour,” he said with a low chuckle, his hand briefly brushing the suspenders at his chest as though adjusting them. “but nothing spooky. unless you count jeff turning into a ghost every time i ask him to sort something out.”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. “that doesn’t count, harry.”

“then no,” he replied, his voice calm but edged with amusement. “can’t say i’ve had the pleasure of being haunted. you?”

her smile faltered, her gaze dipping to the ground for a moment. “no, but…i don’t know. places like this make me wonder.”

he hummed low in his throat, tilting his head as if considering her words. “like we’re all just leaving little bits of ourselves behind.”

“yeah,” she said softly, nodding. “something like that.”

they lingered in the doorway, YN a bit unsure whether to turn back toward the dressing rooms or find something else to preoccupy herself with. this was where harry was supposed to disappear, where their brief exchange would end, and where she’d return to her usual wandering.

but he didn’t move just yet. instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. the motion was slow, his rings glinting faintly beneath the fluorescents.

“you haven’t eaten today?” he asked, though the tone of his voice wasn’t really a question. it was low and steady, more like a statement.

her lips pursed slightly as she tilted her head, giving the question more thought than she probably needed to.

“mm,” she hummed, narrowing her eyes playfully as if she were weighing the truth. “no—yes!” she corrected herself quickly, a sheepish smile breaking across her face. “yes. i had breakfast and a snack earlier.”

his lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he were fighting the urge to smile. he didn’t say anything right away, just kept his eyes on her.

then, without a word, he pulled two twenties from his wallet, “here.”

YN blinked again, her eyes flicking between the money and his face, confusion blooming across her features. “what? no, harry, i can’t—”

“take it,” he interrupted gently, his voice soft but firm. “go get something decent. don’t let mitch con you into eating crisps f’dinner again.”

she hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“seriously,” he added, a faint smile tugging at his mouth now. “you’ll be doing me a favor. don’t want you passing out on me, yeah?”

her cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but after another beat of hesitation, she finally reached out and took the money, her fingers brushing against his briefly as she did.

“thank you…again.”

he only hummed, shrugging his shoulders casually—as if he didn’t just hand her forty bucks for a measly lunch.

and then, just as she thought he might disappear into the room ahead, he glanced at her again, his green eyes steady and bright under the harsh lights.

“don’t wander too far.”

she smiled faintly, her fingers tightening around the money. “i won’t.”

— COVENTRY

her hands were slowly starting to become his favorite greeting.

the way they moved with a gentle rhythm, purposeful but soft, like they carried a melody he couldn’t quite place. it was the third week of the european leg, the air damp with the kind of lingering rain that clung to the skin and made hair curl at the edges. backstage was bustling, but in the quiet moments, when she flitted around him with a quiet focus, all harry could see were her hands.

small, unadorned, sweet.

she was touching up his face, her thumb dragging gently beneath his eye to smooth out a smudge. her breath smelled faintly of spearmint and the watermelon candy she had earlier. her eyes stayed fixed on the task, as if this moment was just another stitch in the fabric of her day. but for harry, it was a tear in the cloth.

she was too close. he could see the faintest sheen of her skin under the lights, the curve of her neck, the way her collarbones shifted as she moved.

lust wasn’t a stranger to him. it had been loud before, all-consuming. but this was different. this was quieter, heavier. something he was trying to smother, yet it refused to die.

he went cold that day. avoided her gaze, clenched his jaw, kept his hands tucked into his pockets like they might betray him.

but it only made her more thoughtful.

he saw her the next morning, her hair clipped loosely at the back of her head, strands falling lazily like they’d escaped on purpose. the change was subtle, but in the way she crafted herself into something sharper, more focused. the clipped hair gave him an undisturbed view of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the delicate slope of her shoulders.

he was undone.

a thousand images pressed against his mind, unwanted but insistent—his hands spanning the column of her throat, bruises painted like watercolored violets blooming along her collarbones—an evidence of his claim—the curve of her jaw tipped back as she let out a sound meant only for him.

harry forced himself to retreat again.

she thought it was her breath next.

he noticed how she chewed bright green gum in a way that drove him mad, like it was an absent habit, the piece of gum rolling in slow movements. sometimes her tongue would peek past her lips as though she were about to blow a bubble but stopped halfway through.

harry had to sit down once after that, shaking his head like he could dislodge the thoughts from his skull. he thought of how her pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock. he could almost feel it—the warmth, the wetness, the sound. he wondered if she’d be as quiet as she usually was, or if she’d scream his name loud enough for the entire stadium to be reminded of who they’re here to see.

and now, she was kneeling by his side backstage, her fingers curling into the hem of his trousers to fix the cuff.

she smiled softly as she worked, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest moment.

“you’ll trip over these on stage if they aren’t fixed.”

he swallowed thickly, nodding, unable to form words. the thought of her on her knees, innocent and sweet, flooded his mind like a storm surge.

“there.” she sat back on her heels, her hands brushing against his ankles as she admired her work.

he looked at her, bathed in the golden backstage light, her hair still clipped back, her lips parted slightly as if waiting for his approval.

he clenched his fists.

the flow of time bent around her, her presence a rippling disturbance in the current.

harry shifted abruptly, muttering something about needing to check on mitch, and left the room without looking back.

— MANCHESTER

the hotel was hushed, its grandeur dimmed by the evening hour. soft light spilled from sconces along the walls, pooling against polished floors, while the faint hum of distant conversation echoed through the lobby. most of the crew had disappeared within minutes, doors clicking shut as they vanished into their respective rooms, leaving the space cavernous and still.

but not harry. and not YN.

her room wasn’t ready yet—something about cleaning and turnaround, an oversight that had left her standing at the front desk with an apologetic smile and her suitcase at her side.

“shouldn’t be more than half an hour,” the clerk had assured her, but YN had waved it off, her soft it’s fine laced with the kind of understanding that always made harry’s chest tighten.

instead of heading to his own room, he had lingered. he didn’t know why, or perhaps he did and simply didn’t want to acknowledge it. either way, he found himself sitting in a low-slung armchair in the lounge just off the lobby, the soft leather cool beneath his hands as he leaned back and stretched his legs out.

she sat across from him, perched delicately on the edge of a matching chair, her fingers fidgeting idly with the zipper of her bag.

his eyes flicked to her now and then, his eyes catching on the faint curve of her profile, the way her shoulders lifted slightly when she let out a quiet sigh. she didn’t seem restless, exactly—just waiting.

the room was sparsely furnished, its decor understated but rich. in the far corners, small tables stood with chessboards carved into their surfaces, their pieces arranged neatly in expectation.

it was YN who noticed them first, her head tilting slightly as her gaze lingered on the nearest table. after a moment, she rose from her chair, her movements unhurried as she approached the board. her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of the table, tracing the grooves of the squares as if testing their texture.

harry watched her from his seat, his elbow resting on the armrest as his hand brushed over his jaw.

“do you play?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but carrying across the quiet room.

he smiled as he stood, unfolding himself from the chair with an ease that made the movement seem almost languid, and crossed the room to join her.

“a bit.”

“teach me?”

he nodded, pulling out a chair for her. “sit, then.”

he sat across from her after she settled, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table as she watched him reach for the pieces.

his hands moved with practiced ease, his rings catching the light as he adjusted the arrangement of the board. his fingers brushed against hers briefly when she leaned forward to help.

“these are pawns,” he said, his voice steady as he pointed to the row of small pieces. “move one square forward, except on the first turn—then it can be two.”

she nodded, her brows furrowing slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes following the path of his hand. his voice was calm, measured, and she found herself drawn to the rhythm of it, the way he spoke as if the game were a story he was unfolding just for her.

“bishops go diagonally,” he continued, sliding one across the board with a smooth motion. “rooks in straight lines. knights—well, they’re tricky. they move in an L shape.”

her lips curved into a small smile as she watched him demonstrate, the pieces clicking softly against the board.

“like this,” harry muttered, his fingers brushing against hers again as he nudged her hand toward the knight.

her breath caught faintly, though she didn’t pull away. instead, she let her fingers linger, her eyes flicking up to meet his for a brief, unguarded moment.

“got it?”

she nodded, her throat tightening as she swallowed the knot that had risen there.

“show me.” he encouraged, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze steady on her. “go ahead.”

she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the pawn in front of her as her concentration shifted onto harry—focusing on the way his hips bucked as he tried to get comfortable in his seat, the way his thighs spread apart, wide enough that his knees brushed against the legs of the table.

and it’s like he knew the reason why her cheeks flushed. he was still leaned back, his hands folded and resting against his belly as he watched her. just watched. his breathing was even, the tip of his tongue sliding between his lips as they part.

“you stuck?”

her eyes immediately snap back to the pawn. “no,” she murmured before she slid it forward.

the game moved slowly, each turn deliberate as he guided her through the motions. his voice stayed calm, patient, though the weight of his presence felt anything but.

she leaned forward more as the game progressed, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the board. harry mirrored her unconsciously, the space between them narrowing with every move.

her laughter broke the quiet at one point, soft and sweet, when her knight moved in the wrong direction and harry teased her gently about it. the sound lingered in the air, threading itself into the quiet like a melody, and harry found himself smiling despite the tension coiling in his chest.

she hesitated, her fingers hovering over a bishop as she tried to map out her next move. YN glanced up at him briefly, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and quickly looked away.

“what?”

“nothing.” harry replied easily, though his smirk deepened.

“you’re doing that thing,” she said, her lips curving into a small pout.

“what thing?”

“that thing,” she repeated, her hand gesturing vaguely toward him. “the… i-know-something-you-don’t thing.”

he huffed a low laugh, shaking his head slightly. “m’not doing anything.”

her pout deepened, but she turned her focus back to the board. she moved her bishop with careful precision, setting it in place with a soft click before leaning back slightly, a triumphant smile blooming on her face.

“checkmate!”

he didn’t move at first. he simply blinked at the board, his lips twitching faintly as he leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the table.

“is it now?”

YN’s smile faltered, her confidence wavering as she glanced back at the board, her eyes flicking over the pieces. she felt him lean closer, his presence warm and steady, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the space between them.

“you’ve got my king in a corner,” he muttered, his tone calm but edged with something almost teasing. “but…”

harry’s hand moved then, adjusting one of his knights. the piece landed with a firm click, the move clean and calculated.

“check.”

YN stared at the board, her lips parting slightly as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“but—” she started, her voice trailing off as her eyes darted between the pieces.

he leaned back again, his smirk returning as he watched her. “close, though.”

her cheeks flushed, the warmth spreading up her neck as she let out a soft huff, her gaze dropping to the table. “thought i had it.”

he shrugged, already starting to put the pieces in its original places. “almost, sweetheart.” he breathed, eyes fixed on checkerboards of black and white. “s’just a part of learning, hm?”

she glanced up at him then, her eyes wide and uncertain, and he held her gaze for a moment longer than he should have.

before she could respond, the faint hum of footsteps drew their attention toward the desk. the clerk from earlier stood there, holding out a small keycard.

"miss YN?"

she blinked, startled for a moment before realizing what it meant. her room was ready.

he stood first, his movements unhurried as he straightened, his presence still commanding even in the small act of standing. he turned toward her, his hand brushing briefly against the back of her chair as he gestured toward the desk.

"guess that's your cue.”

she hesitated, glancing back at the chessboard, its pieces nearly in their original places, before rising to her feet. she smoothed her hands over her pants, her eyes flicking to his.

"thanks for staying with me.”

he nodded toward her, a small smile on his lips. “anytime.”

too close to the sun, he thought.

but god, wouldn’t she be worth falling for?

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst

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queermasculine · 3 days ago

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you don't have to answer this but are you still on t? I know you've talked about thinking you were into guys before figuring out u were into butches and I wonder if that realization changed how you saw your body?

I ask bc I'm in a spot where I can't fully tell if I need to go on t to look the way I'd feel right or if I can get to enough of a butch level with exercise and clothing and being around better people than currently. My gender wouldn't change either way, I'm still not a woman, but .. yeah.

realizing i was into other butches did change how i saw my body absolutely, like completely changed it, i don't think i had anything positive to say about my body pre-butch4butch at all tbh. looking at myself and realizing my masculine dream partner would actually have most of the features i was most dysphoric about was a total shift in perspective for me

whether that type of mental shift can lessen your dysphoria to a point where you'll never need T as a dysphoric butch, i'm still kinda figuring that out myself. i was in that "i've done my research and i've seen friends go through the process but i'm being a pussy" stage when i had my b4b epiphany and that brought my dysphoria down to manageable levels (this was years ago now) so i never went on T, but i still think T might be in my future – even if i've cut down my dysphoria by like 70% that remaining 30% can really chafe sometimes depending on the day

but if the question is "is it possible to get to a good place just by focusing on all the other, non-medical aspects of transition" yeah absolutely. like you really can change your appearance completely it's kinda crazy. many ppl don't realize just how much of the average cis guy's masculinity – which can seem so inherent – is actually just clothes and hair. even just getting your hair cut by someone who will give you an actual men's cut instead of the girl version of that style can totally change how you look because it just frames your face and neck so differently (speaking from experience)

that being said i don't think you should ever withhold HRT from yourself if you have access to it and think it might help you. just that it's possible to have a good life even if that's not an option for you, at least in my case it has very much been possible

edit: love all the ppl chiming in with their positive experiences being on T, however i was kind of trying to make this a positivity post for the transmascs out there who are not on hormones rn (like me) so if we could refrain from using wording that paints that life as being incomplete or lesser-than somehow that'd be great, thanks everybody🤘

#also anybody reblogging this with anti-hrt sentiment will be boiled just fyi #anyway good luck bro #mail

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kerryshifting · 1 day ago

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i read your pinned post and why do you want to live forever? like be immortal

we think we have many desires .. but in fact we have only one. to live, forever.

IT’S IMMORTALITY … MY DARLINGS.

why is such thing as immortality, who was always represented in media as a curse who will break your soul into pieces century after century, a thing that shifters like me decide to engage in? this is my personal experience. so. it's very personal. may have sensitive topics.

you know when you are a young child and you find out that the sun will die in some billion years? i spend the whole day sobbing when my older cousin told me. i was four, and that was my first introduction to death. since that day i discovered that everything seemed to lead there: no matter what you do in life, how old or young you are, if you deserve it or not. i was always told that i have one life, and my non–religious family said that there's nothing after. that's it. no other opportunities.

since then i had a very love and hate relationship with death. hated when it took something from me, loved in the hope that would take me. everytime my life started to get dark, it was my first thought. listening to born to die by lana del rey on repeat became part of my routine.

and then. boom. THE canon event. shifting.

i fell on my knees. i was desperate. i wanted other chances. i wanted other lives. my higher self thought it was a good idea to give me this knowledge. i was fourteen, my mom was my enemy, lana del rey my saviour, and all of my friendships were girls, so confusing by charli xcx before girls, so confusing (fourteen years old me would have eat that up). so, i decided to believe it immediately. no questions asked. but, of course, i was a teenage girl. shit happens. and the italian school system it's worse than an asylum. and then shit actually happened!!! the type of things that makes you laugh hysterically before sobbing on the carpet. i was sixteen and suddenly i didn't want other lives, and neither the one i had. i totally forgot about shifting… and then i reached the rock bottom. like. really bad. it was a continue cycle of sadness and apathy and then, almost two years later, anger. ooooooooooh boy i was mad.

i never understood the people around me calling me rebellious – like. girl. where? until i discovered shifting again. septermber 2024. what a time to be alive! but first: that summer really did something to me. going in my home country, connecting with the place where my ancestors walked, breathed and lived really was a slap in the face. that summer i actually picked up a book after years of caring about nothing, and i was still the curious child that would go in historical websites to research about things. watched documentary after documentary. i read poetry. scientific shits that i never actually understood. politics. an hatred for all the people who said to me that "you only have one life" hit me so hard. i was furious because i spent years of my 'only' life sobbing in my bed. SEPTEMBER 2024. shifting!!!!!! fuck!!!!!!!!!! i totally forgot about that!!!!!!!!!! instead of tiktok i used tumblr, and i got slapped in the face numerous times again. it's so different from what i thought. better. amazing. the answer to my questions.

so, all this to say what? immortality. basically: rebellion. revenge. out of spite. my last and long lasting sarcastic laugh. i want culture. now i care about things around me. i care about myself. i care about my soul, all the possible versions of me. the world. other people. i want to be young and old again. and again. i healed. i am not mad, i am excited. i have a journey. emotions that i can't wait to experience. a big middle finger to death who consumed my first eighteen years of life. this feels very dramatic but hey!!! i watch too many movies so that's probably why.

#anon ask #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting #shifting community #shifting antis dni #shifting consciousness #shifting motivation #shifting diary #shiftingrealities #reality shifter #shiftinconsciousness #shifting realities #shifters #shifting script #shift #shifting to desired reality #reality scripting

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idkwhatever580 · 2 days ago

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This is going to sound bad at first but I promise I’m going somewhere with it.

I know that there are different types of addiction but my dad is an alcoholic and he is not the best dad. I go through waves of loving him so much and crying all the time wishing he was the father I have him out to be in my mind (me right now) and then I just can’t stand him I get so angry.

I cry so much because I’ve been hurt and I continue to be hurt. But that’s not his fault. I look back and wish I could have done something for him. Maybe if he had gotten into therapy before all those years of being a firefighter got to him. Maybe if someone had stopped his parents from conditioning him and making him believe that he needs to hide his flaws he’d have turned out different.

People always ask me why I still talk to him. Why I go through all this. Why I put up with the fact that I have to reach out first to get any kind of love or support (fake or not) from him. I made a choice. I chose to keep him in my life. And I’m not here to judge anyone based off of their choices because everyone has different experiences.

But I believe that addiction is a disease. A horrible debilitating disease that alters minds and lives. If you think about it, you wouldn’t love someone any less because they got diagnosed with a medical disease, would you? You wouldn’t leave their side, you wouldn’t tell them they have to fight this thing on their own would you? (If your answer was yes you’re the problem btw) So, although he might not be the best dad, I will not walk away from him or love him any less because of a disease he struggles with.

Just because my father is an addict, does not mean that he is unlovable. It does not mean that he is any less deserving of forgiveness than the next person.

My dad is more than his addiction. And I love him because he deserves love.

it's just really fucking frustrating that we live in a world where I grew up being trained to believe that addicts are unloveable. and then I became an addict and I was still told that addicts are unloveable. and I just have to deal with the fact that there are people out there who believe that I don't deserve love, or that my partner is brave for loving me, or that my family and friends are suffering just from me existing. and that's fine that's just the way it is

but then on top of that. I have to deal with tumblr users telling me (an addict!!!) that they hate addicts in a cool new way that I should be totally sympathetic towards. see, they had a family member who was the most evil person on the planet! and that family member was an addict! so they can't help the fact that they now want all addicts to die! they can't help it! blast them all.

#this is my opinion #my experiences #it does not have to be yours and I understand if you don’t make the same decisions as me #i love you

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writingsfromhome · 2 days ago

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Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

—————————————————————-

“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—“

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he��s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s��pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fic #harry styles one shot

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justleaveacommentfest · 2 days ago

Note

Not an ask, but a story about leaving comments -- not long ago, I left a comment on a fic from almost 10 years ago where the author, in their end notes, discussed how proud they were to have finished this fic (it was an incredible fic that was over 100,000 words long because they're a god and I would also just be shaky in the knees if I accomplished something so long and profound); and they also talked in their author's note how strange it was to be the ages of 22-24 when they were writing this fic and how things weren't always easy, and that they hoped the future was bright for them.

I commented about my life, right now, how I came to find their fic a decade years later from when they finished (a little sheepishly, it feels weird to talk about yourself, but it felt important somehow) -- anyways, I also talked about how reading their author's note reminded me very much of how I felt right now, and how different the world is now from 2015, and how this fic made me feel all kinds of nostalgic and good and hopeful about growing older, and how my god they were this good at 22 and I hope they're still writing -- and even if not, I hope all these years later they really are in a better place.

They replied. They replied! I was so delighted! They are indeed in their thirties! and they are indeed still writing! Things haven't gone as expected, but they've got a healthier dose of perspective on life and how to cope with the hard times now. And it was just so heartwarming to hear and learn about them. And to know that they're still around!

Just seeing that, seeing these people who write about hard times nine years ago, and leaving a comment and getting a reply, it just brings so much hope. Because you never know! You never know if someone's still going to be here, and so when they are it's kind of a-- not a miracle, but it just feels like I'm suddenly so very aware of my existence in the world and theirs too and it just -- it MATTERS. And ao3 and fanfiction in general is so unique to most media where you stare at a television or read a book, you can engage with the creator of that thing you're reading RIGHT THEN AND THERE. And you may not get a reply, or you might get this touching response that lets you feel like you're less alone in the world. It's worth the chance, right? That's what building community and stuff is all about! You can make so many friends this way!

And even if they never reply, don't you want them to know how important their story was to you? And it doesn't matter if the story was finished a decade ago or just posted yesterday, there's still a person that's there that gets to see how their art made an impact on the world. I've made a couple of friends doing this -- and even if I'm not making a friend, I hope I make someone's day a little brighter. God knows I'm always delighted whenever someone comments on my fics.

I admit I'm not perfect -- I don't always comment on fics that I read. I'm trying to be better, I've got a list of fics that I definitely should have written a comment on that I've been going through and writing out how I feel about their writing because damn people are just so talented. This wasn't for just leave a comment fest, I admit, but I do love to see your blog and your drive because it is such an important thing for writers.

I didn't know you were doing a valentines day thing, but what a great idea! I wanted to share my experience, hopefully inspire some other people to go out and comment, and now I'm going to go check another fic off my list of ones that I'd like to comment on. Better late than never!

Have a great day! and Happy Valentine's Day Just Leave a Comment Mini Fest!

I AM HOOTING AND HOLLERING I AM PLAYING THE XYLOPHONE ON MY RIB CAGE WHAT A STORY!!!! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CONNECTION TO HAVE MADE THROUGH COMMENTS!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE TO HAVE HAD!!

ANON THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS HAS MADE THIS SKELETON'S DAY

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 1 day ago

Text

perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right?

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did.

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected.

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.”

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan.

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him.

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.”

—

taglist: @andvys @littledemondani @etherealxwitch @eddieschains @happylilthought @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @thisbrokencapulet @sunkillerencoder @thatredlipped-classic

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic

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