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gurugirl · 2 years ago

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The Arrangement | Part 2*

Summary: Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.

A/n: Based on this request (take a read so you know what you're in for here) ~~ sugardaddy dom!harry x subby!reader 17.2k words

Warning: 18+ only, smut, spanking, use of rope, suspension, dominant/submissive relationship & dynamic (DDlg included), lying, unprotected sex, cheating, some slight violence

The Arrangement Masterlist

Y/n was feeling quite scandalous when she went back to work the day after she’d spent the most amazing night with Harry in bed, on the terrace, in the rooftop pool, and then having him choose to stay with her rather than going home to his wife. She woke up in his arms with him kissing her and then she somehow found herself happily giving him sloppy head and swallowing him down before getting dressed in her new chic high-waisted Loro Piana linen skirt, a cropped silk chiffon Loewe top, and the Manolos again.

And of course, the rouge Birkin bag.

Of which, Jessica nearly lost her mind over.

“Holy…” she looked around before speaking her next words quietly, “shit! Is this for real? Oh my god!!”

Y/n let her hold the bag as she turned her computer on. She was feeling so relaxed and so confident. Not like she’d ever really felt before. She knew, of course, her arrangement with Harry was just, well… an arrangement, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t absolutely glowing and feeling the effects of his lavish attention.

“Yes, it’s real.” Y/n smiled and sat down. She still burned hot with embarrassment at Jessica’s attention over the bag but this time she was able to push it down and feign confidence.

Jessica leaned over her desk, “And you look… you’re absolutely radiant, Y/n. Like, everything about you looks…” she placed the purse down on the desk, “well… anyway. Do you want to grab lunch with me today?”

And that was how it went until the end of her internship. Suddenly, the nice clothes, the shoes, and the Birkin bag had Jessica’s attention and Y/n was invited to lunch nearly every day. Some days Y/n declined when Harry wanted her to himself. Which was at least once a week. In his office, in the conference room, at his house when Romy wasn’t there. Even once at her apartment in her room.

Harry had determined, though, that her living situation was not to his standards. The neighborhood she lived in wasn’t up to par. It was a little dangerous and having her wait for the bus to get to work or to go home made him nervous. He didn’t like it. He hated wondering if she was okay arriving at home late. He always insisted she text or call him once she arrived home safely.

And things progressed quickly. He showed her what he wanted and Y/n was on board all the way. She was all yes and please and thank you from the get-go.

She learned that she loved being completely tied up. Having her legs and arms secured with rope and tied down so he could do as he pleased. It gave her so much pleasure and made her feel confident and calm, as crazy as that sounded. Not needing to make any kind of decision or even move a bone in her body if she didn’t want. Because she trusted Harry. The longer she knew him the better it was. The more confident and comfortable she was.

He bought her more things she didn’t need but that she wound up loving. More clothes. A new cellphone. He paid her monthly bill. Flew her to Hawaii with him for a quick weekend away when he had a conference. Booked spa, hair, and nail appointments for her, paid for a driver to pick her up at her apartment when she wasn’t staying at some posh hotel with him, and even gave her a credit card. He made her an authorized user and gave her her own card with her name on it and everything.

Harry paid for everything. He wouldn’t allow her to spend any of her money. He wanted her to save every dime she made.

It took a little time to get her comfortable with the money aspect. She was very much fine with the physical part of their relationship. She loved the feeling of not comfortably sitting (the reminder of why she couldn’t sit was a thrill), loved when he wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed. Loved being yanked by the leather collar and leash and strapped into the harness and fucked so hard she’d spin out into her subspace and feel like a floaty angel.

She loved it all because it was with Harry who she trusted. Who took such good care of her after. Who treated her like his princess and chose her over his wife time and time again. Whom she was beginning to realize she was in love with.

But it was the fact that he was married that kept her from telling him that she did love him. That she wanted him for herself. That she wanted more. But she wouldn’t dare ruin what they had. She wouldn’t dare interrupt the blissful and beautiful arrangement they had. She was happier than she’d ever been.

There was a basic, yet nice, going away dinner for all the interns when the summer was over just before school started back. It was on a Friday in a nearby restaurant overlooking the river.

Y/n was enjoying herself, speaking with one of the other interns she hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know with a glass of Cabernet. She was wearing a very nice dress (courtesy of Harry of course) and was looking forward to seeing Harry afterward. He told her he booked a room for them so she was feeling the pre-session excitement and small boost of confidence she normally did beforehand.

Aaron was a nice guy. Attractive by any standards. Smart. And Y/n recognized that he was trying to hit on her. But of course, she wasn’t interested. Her lover was somewhere in the same room and she was flying high with anticipation of what the night would bring once he got her alone.

But Harry was in a foul mood. Romy decided to come by, which wasn’t unusual. But Harry didn’t need Romy ruining his night. She knew he wasn’t coming home that evening. Which Harry assumed she wasn’t happy about. She’d been expressing her deep concern about his more frequent absence. Spending so many nights with his mistress, whom she’d not even learned the name of.

But not only was Romy hanging onto his arm and laughing at some nonsense one of the new partners was spewing he could see Aaron clearly trying to shoot his shot with his girl. Y/n was being polite, he could read the situation for what it was. She was not interested but she was being kind and Aaron thought her kindness meant she was interested. Harry wished she’d just tell him that she was taken. That she wasn’t interested. But instead of hurting his feelings or making him feel embarrassed she just smiled and nodded and spoke when it was her turn and made friendly eye contact with him.

Harry really liked Y/n. Well, it was more than like. He was developing deep feelings for the girl. He couldn’t help it. So he didn’t like that she seemed to be acting so casually with Aaron who was very obviously flirting with her.

It had been nearly two months since they’d begun their arrangement. Y/n was going back to school in two weeks and her life was looking just grand. She was in her element, finally. In all her life she’d never been in her element. Never. But somehow Harry brought to surface her confidence and her glow.

But she missed seeing him alone and playing with him. It had been a few days away from him, and while that shouldn’t be a problem, it felt too long. Three nights away from him was no longer okay. She missed him too much.

The last day she spent with Harry he asked her a question that she hadn’t been able to forget about. She wasn’t sure if he would actually follow up or if he’d just drop it.

“So there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you about,” Harry spoke as he placed her mug of coffee down next to her at the table. Y/n looked up at him in question.

He continued, “You mentioned that one time someone hurt you when they spanked you. Mind telling me his name?”

“Oh. Um… I guess. It was a long time ago, though, Harry. Really it’s nothing that even bothers me now.”

Harry sat down and kept his eyes on Y/n’s with his eyebrows raised, “What’s his name?”

“Martin Estes.”

“Is he here in the city or is he from back home?”

“Well, he lived here when I dated him a couple of years ago. But I don’t know if he still does.”

“Address?” He asked and sipped his coffee.

Blinking her eyes she looked down at her mug of coffee before looking back at Harry, “Why? What are you going to do?”

“I just want to have a chat with him. Doesn’t matter, though, he probably doesn’t even live in the same place anyway. Right?”

“Yeah. Um," she paused to think back to the area where she'd visited the guy a couple of times, "it was off Carmen near the university. Across from the dorms. Grey house. Two stories. He had a lot of roommates. I don’t remember the house number.”

Harry nodded and smiled, “Thank you.”

“But really, Harry. It’s not necessary. It’s been such a long time. I doubt he would even remember me- “

“Just another reason for me to visit him. I’ll give him a reminder so he won’t ever forget about you.”

As she thought about what he’d said that morning to her a few days ago she moved her eyes around the room and spotted him, the man she had been looking forward to seeing that very evening.

His face was set in a small frown as he met her gaze and then looked back to where his wife was next to him. Y/n hadn’t realized Romy was there. Suddenly her confidence and her liveliness faltered when she considered that perhaps she wouldn’t be seeing Harry that evening after all. Because if Romy was with him…

“But anyway, I think tomorrow we’re all gonna go out and celebrate before going our separate ways. What do you say? You wanna come?”

Y/n turned back toward Aaron, whom she hadn’t been listening to at all, and shook her head, “No… I have plans but thank you for the invite.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you so have mine just in case you wind up changing your mind.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked around and saw Harry looking right at her. As if he knew that Aaron was asking for her number. But when Romy turned her face to look at her husband and leaned in to kiss his cheek Y/n felt the smallest bit of anger bubble up in her chest. She could give a guy her number. Harry was married and here he was with his wife right in front of her.

Reaching into her purse she pulled out her phone and rattled off her number to Aaron who quickly texted her.

“There. Now we have each other’s numbers. So if not tomorrow, maybe another night?” He smiled and winked.

“Yeah, maybe another night.”

She knew Harry saw the whole exchange but what about what she saw with him and his wife? Did he think of that? She crossed the room to find the hallway and get some air from the crowd when she found the lady's room.

In the bathroom, she washed her hands and leaned into the wall near the mirrors in the sitting area, and scrolled through her phone. She needed a minute before heading back out to mingle again. It was becoming suffocating with so many people and seeing Romy all elegant and put together on Harry’s arm felt like a lot.

A notification covered her screen when she got a text. From Harry.

Where are you?

She sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be mad at him but she was. She was jealous that his wife was there and didn’t like the way he looked at her when Aaron was talking to her. She considered not texting him back for a bit. Just to make him seethe a little longer.

Clicking her phone off and putting it into her purse she felt her heart pound in her chest at the nerves that were building. She was being a bit bold by not responding to him right away. Normally she’d type out a quick response and be grinning from ear to ear. But in that moment she was feeling something a little different. Maybe a touch of adrenaline? Or perhaps she was a bit nervous at defying him the way she was. Would he punish her?

Y/n had never been punished by Harry. Not in the way that she felt he’d punish her for something like this. Part of her thought perhaps she might like to get a proper punishment. Maybe she’d done this on purpose in her subconscious mind. She decided she wouldn’t text him back. She’d just ignore his text, leave him on read, and go out and enjoy the rest of the night.

Pushing the door to the bathroom open to exit she heard a man and a woman in the hallway. Just as she turned her head to see who was talking she noticed that Romy was following behind someone into the men’s restroom. The voice wasn’t Harry’s. She didn’t see the man because he’d gone in first but she did find it strange that Romy was entering the men’s room.

Standing next to the door in silence she could hear only voices but no distinguishable words. Y/n was too interested to find out what was happening in the bathroom with Romy and the other man. She shouldn’t have been snooping in Romy’s business but since Harry was Y/n’s business she felt this was sort of her business as well.

Her phone chimed again and she reached into her purse to pull it out as she leaned her back to the wall next to the men’s bathroom door.

You’re in for it tonight, little girl. Be warned. If I don’t hear back from you within 5 minutes I will tear this restaurant apart to find you.

Harry knew she wasn’t with Aaron because he’d just finished talking to him. Which actually helped calm him down after she didn’t respond to his first text. He realized Y/n was avoiding him. Was she playing some kind of game?

His text brought a small smile to her face. Yes, she was feeling in a mood. She was only getting more excited by the idea of him feeling anxious and getting punished, but his text confirmed it. She was in for it.

Shooting off a single-word text to him- bathroom - she stuffed her phone back into her expensive purse and kept her spot next to the men’s bathroom door. Hoping to find out what Romy and this man were up to.

Harry rounded the corner in the hallway where Y/n stood not long after he saw her text. He wore the same scowl he had earlier as he neared the girl.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for the two people in this bathroom to finish up doing whatever it is they’re doing in there.”

“This is the men’s bathroom. Why do you care?” Harry stood over Y/n, directly in front of her. He was ready to bend her over his knee and spank the attitude out of her.

“I was just curious…” she felt her resolution crumble. She wanted to stay tough and bratty but he was making her soften quickly. Especially because she knew who was behind the door which could change everything for them that evening.

“It’s time for us to leave. Do you have everything?”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to wait for your wife? She came here to see you.” Y/n felt the smallest twinge of guilt saying that. She was sure he didn’t realize his wife was behind the door with another man.

“She left already. She was tired, as usual. Don’t worry about her.”

“She told you she was leaving?”

Harry paused. He was about to turn and half expected Y/n to just follow him because that was what she would have normally done. So he was surprised when she rebutted with her question.

“Yes. And then I walked her out so she could call her driver to take her home.”

Y/n blinked and looked toward the bathroom door and then back to Harry, “Umm…”

She didn’t want to tell him but at the same time, the kindest thing would have been for her to be honest. And she was certain he’d want to know.

Harry suddenly recognized what was going on, or at least he had a feeling, “Is Romy in there with someone, Y/n?”

She nodded as she watched Harry push the door open and walk into the bathroom. Following quickly behind him there was nothing to see in the sitting area. The men’s room was set up like the women’s. The first entry point had mirrors and a long vanity with benches and chairs for sitting. Beyond the sitting area was the long mirror with sinks and toiletries and then a separate area with stalls. The large accessible stall all the way toward the end was the only one in use. Y/n could hear the quiet movements and gasps as they got in closer. Once her heels hit the marble floor the sound of rustling fabric stopped.

“Romy! Come out now!”

Harry’s loud voice was angry, and Y/n hadn’t expected him to sound so furious.

There were frantic whispers and hushes as the two people who were taking up the large stall were probably trying to straighten out their clothes and get their stories straight.

Harry looked back at Y/n standing behind him and then toward the stall door, waiting for it to open.

“Open the fucking door now before I tear it off the hinges and pull you out of there myself!”

“Harry, I need you to calm down-“ Romy’s voice sounded from behind the door as there was a small bit of commotion in the stall with the porcelain of the toilet lid clanking.

“Do not fucking tell me to calm down. Open the door now!”

The click of the lock echoed as the fiberglass stall door slowly opened. Romy stepped out but kept her back to the door. She was clearly shaken up. She looked at the girl behind Harry and then at him not uttering a word.

“Well come on out, show me who’s in there with you,” Harry dramatically gestured toward her.

Romy put her hands up, “Harry, look, this isn’t-“

“The fuck it isn’t!” Harry lurched toward Romy and pulled at her hand, yanking her away from the door and into the room with the sinks where Y/n stood. He slammed the door wide open and there, standing on the toilet, perhaps in an attempt to hide himself, was Harry’s partner and the man he founded his business with. His best friend Sean.

The silence sliced through Y/n’s spine. It was scarier than when he was shouting. Harry only looked his friend in the eye before turning and walking past both Romy and Y/n to exit the bathroom.

Y/n hurried after him and when she finally caught up she grasped his elbow to get him to slow down, to get him to talk to her, to look at her.

“Harry, wait!”

Harry continued rapidly walking toward the exit of the restaurant and even with Y/n’s hand at his elbow he wouldn’t be slowed down. He needed to get out of there. Needed to think.

“Get a taxi and go home, Y/n. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Y/n let go of him and stopped abruptly, tears filling her eyes. She knew he wasn’t mad at her but it hurt nonetheless. She had been looking forward to seeing him and now he was upset, heartbroken maybe and there was nothing she could do to help.

It took her a moment to clear her blurry eyes before she reached a shaky hand into her purse to order a taxi.

Before she could finish, Aaron was calling her name. His kind face came into view and he stopped suddenly when he realized she’d been crying.

“Hey… are you okay? Come here,” he gently pulled at her arm and brought her toward the exit of the building so they could get some air outside, “Talk to me. Is everything all right?”

She shook her head and let out a pathetic sob, tears she’d just cleared from her eyes filling up and making her vision blurry again, “I just… I have a boyfriend. I’m okay but he just got some really bad news and…”

Aaron pulled her into his arms and patted her back, “It’s okay to cry.”

Y/n pulled away from the embrace after a few more beats and smiled up at the guy, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“No problem. Hey, I’ve got an Uber coming to take me home. Wanna share? I’m headed toward Northpark but I’m sure wherever you live they can reroute to accommodate. What do you say?”

Y/n wasn’t in a head space to say no to this invitation. It was a reasonable one too. And she really felt like even if Aaron was trying to shoot his shot with her earlier, he was a genuinely nice guy. Someone she could trust. At least a little. Plus, it was just a shared taxi ride. What could possibly be bad about this?

When she walked into her apartment Gregory was sitting in the living room watching the television.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you around lately. How have you been?” He sat up straight as she walked into the living room and toed her heels off.

“Oh, good. The internship has been a lot,” she said leaning down to pick her shoes up from the floor, “Just really tired right now, though. I hope you don’t think it’s rude if I just head to my room.”

“Of course not. Get some rest.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief walking into the hallway to go toward her bedroom. Gregory was a nice guy but she was truly exhausted. Mentally. Physically she was a ball of nerves and she needed to pace and cry and overthink (which was a terrible idea but she couldn’t help herself).

She took her dress off and placed her purse on her dresser and plopped onto her bed and let herself spiral. She’d been doing so well since meeting Harry. She’d felt more confident, more even emotionally, relaxed… but tonight everything had been unraveled. Seeing Harry with his wife, the look he was giving her for talking to Aaron, then the way Harry reacted when he realized Romy was with his business partner Sean, a man she knew was Harry’s very close friend… well Harry seemed very upset. Broken. Knowing that another woman could get that kind of reaction from him hurt. Of course, she knew realistically that their relationship was only an arrangement. Something fun for him and for her. Only she was in love with him. It had been a whole summer they’d been together and she had learned so much about herself through Harry.

But now what? The summer was ending and even though she’d be going to school locally and still living in her little apartment in a not-so-safe neighborhood would they continue their little tryst? It felt so petty of her to wonder that even, given the circumstances. He’d just found out that his wife had been seeing his good friend and never told him. He caught them red-handed so to speak. And here she was thinking of only herself.

She felt like she was going to burst into dust, fall to pieces on the floor, or simply stop existing. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she cried silently, not wanting to bother Gregory. It felt like this was it with Harry. He said he’d call her but he definitely didn’t need to. And what would she do if he didn’t call her? Call him? Text him and beg him? Get a taxi to take her to his home and hope Romy wasn’t there? She would. She would probably lower herself to begging and groveling and she hated that about herself. She was pathetic.

Suddenly she heard loud voices coming from the living room. She was sure one of them was Harry’s voice but she felt like she was probably hallucinating or going crazy. It couldn’t be.

Wiping her tears she sat up and perked her ears. She was only wearing a slip that she had on under her dress but she was about to walk into the living room to confirm what she was hearing.

Suddenly her door was pushed open and it was Harry with Gregory right behind him.

She stood from the bed quickly and took Harry’s hand as she looked at Gregory, “It’s okay.”

Harry slammed the door closed after Gregory raised his hands in defeat and backed away, “Where is he?”

“Who? What are –“

“Aaron. I saw you get in the taxi with him after letting him put his hands all over you.”

She released his hand and backed away. She was surprised that he’d actually think she’d want anyone but him.

Her anger rose in place of the sorrow and helplessness she felt only moments prior, “Fuck you.”

Harry was taken aback. She’d never spoken to him that way before, “What?” He was genuinely shocked by her words.

“I said FUCK YOU!” She shouted the words and like the wimp she was, began crying when she was supposed to be mad and mean. Instead, she was already letting her tears fall with abandon.

Harry blinked his eyes and looked at his sweet girl in tears and shaking with anger. He’d done this to her. He didn’t mean to but he did. And he was angry too. Angry that his wife had been lying to him. That his best friend had been lying to him (that one hurt the most if he was honest). And yes, he’d been lying to Romy but his lies weren’t the same, weren’t as severe. Romy gave him parameters but she didn’t tell him she was getting her needs met elsewhere (with his best friend) and therefore set no parameters for herself.

And he knew he shouldn’t be taking this out on Y/n. Clearly, Aaron was not in her room or her apartment. He had allowed himself to fall into self-pity – his wife was cheating with his best friend and now he’d made up a scenario that his lover was leaving him for some 22-year-old trust fund college boy. But that wasn’t fair to her. Y/n hadn’t done anything wrong. The only people he should be angry with were Sean and Romy.

Y/n wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed as she sat down on the floor, not even making it to her bed. She was devasted. It was over. It had to be. He was so mad and there was no way he’d believe her if he saw all that. Especially after having just seen what his wife was up to.

Harry realized this was his fuck up. Y/n didn’t deserve this. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to start opening up to her before she closed herself off to him for good.

He stepped toward where she was and lowered to his knees in front of her, “Y/n, please look at me,” he said as he pulled her hands into his.

She knew she looked ridiculous. Her mascara was surely running down her face, eyes red and puffy from crying. But she did as he said because it was easier to just comply, her naturally submissive nature always leading her.

“I’m sorry. I…” he sat down next to her, keeping her hands in his, “I saw you and Aaron while I was waiting for my driver to pick me up and - I know you didn’t do anything. But then I saw you get into the taxi with him and I expected the worst. I had my driver bring me here and I just… I lost it. I can’t lose you too. I lost Romy a long time ago. But knowing my best friend…” Harry shook his head at the thought, “and you… I can’t lose you too. It was like seeing all of that tonight and I just overreacted and I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

She understood him. Deeply. She nodded and she felt his words and they were clear. She knew his intentions. And suddenly she was just thankful he was there with her.

Harry brought a hand up to her face and brushed his fingers along her jaw, “You mean so much more to me than I’ve let you know and that’s all my fault. Please don’t hate me. Don’t be sad. I… I’m sorry. All of that, all of this… it’s on me. I’m the one that did all this.”

Y/n brought her own hand up to Harry’s face and cupped his jaw, “Thank you.”

Harry stayed with Y/n that night in her tiny bedroom. He didn’t have his soft plush bed, comfortable joggers, or even a nice glass of wine to wind down. But he had Y/n in his arms and his heart beat for her and that was all he needed.

. . .

Harry brought her to the hotel he booked for them the following day. He was mostly silent on the way. He told her to pack what she needed for the week and then called ahead to the hotel to order breakfast for their room upon their arrival.

“Sit and eat. I have a few calls to make,” he said as he gestured to the breakfast set up once they got into their suite.

Y/n nibbled and peeked out the window to watch Harry pacing back and forth on his cell phone on the terrace. She wanted to know what he was saying. Whom he was speaking to. Why he wasn’t sitting with her and eating (though she wasn’t sitting when she had that thought in her head as she was spying on him).

Harry had been considering it for some time. Had figured it’d be good for them both but he wanted it to be a surprise for her. He knew she might have her reservations but he was set on doing this for her. But when he saw her peeking out the window he smirked to himself and decided he’d take care of her once he got back inside.

Y/n sat down at the table quickly and spread strawberry jam onto the croissant. She knew he spotted her. She smiled as she chewed the pastry, feeling good about where she and Harry were. The night before had been a whirlwind but it ended with him at her place and an apology for which she was grateful. It was also the first night they spent together without sex. And that was something.

He didn’t seem too bothered by what Romy had done. He’d expressed his displeasure with Sean, though. She realized that part hurt him the worst. That he was going to need time to recover from the blow of his best friend betraying him that way.

When Harry stepped back inside he was different somehow. He’d been so loving the night before and very sweet all morning, if not quiet. But now he was oozing of his dom persona and she immediately recognized it. Preparing her psyche for anything she rounded her eyes and watched him walk toward the table, giving him a look that told him he was in charge of her and she would comply.

“I think I could use a stress reliever right now. Last night was hard for me and I know it was for you too. You probably need to disconnect a bit as well don’t you little girl?”

She nodded and sat her croissant down.

Harry leaned over her and tilted her face up to his so he could kiss her. His lips softly moving over hers always worked her up into a drippy mess faster than she could understand. There was something about their connection that had her body responding to him faster than anyone she’d ever known, “And I promised you last night that you were in for it. I hope you don’t think you’re off the hook for not responding to my text and flirting right in front of me.”

Suddenly his hand moved up to the nape of her neck and he carded his fingers into her hair and yanked her up out of her seat, pulling her along to the couch where he sat down and brought her over his lap with her bottom up, hastily pulling her skirt up to reveal her pretty lace thong.

“Wearing everything Daddy bought you like a good girl. Except you’ve been naughty,” he brought his hand down to her bottom with a good slap, which was marked with bruises from their night together days prior. She jumped and hissed, clawing at the fabric on the couch, and squeezed her eyes closed.

“I’m going to put you in the harness today. Keep you on the bed and spread apart for me. Might use your paddle too. First, we need to open you up so I can put this in,” he lifted up the pretty anal plug he bought her a month ago. She’d been using it and he had fingered her multiple times, using as many fingers as he could fit in order to prepare her. He hadn’t yet fucked her in the bum like he promised he would. She looked from the plug to Harry and knew what she needed to do. What he’d taught her.

She licked her palm and stuck her middle finger into her mouth to get her digit wet before reaching back around to swipe the saliva around her hole. Harry kept his face set without emotion as he watched her start the process. He knew she wasn’t going to be able to get wet enough by just doing this but he loved watching her eagerly give it a try. She licked her finger again, spitting a big glob of saliva into her palm, and then rubbed it over herself again, her arm going behind her back as Harry held her cheeks apart.

He loved watching her touch herself and when she sunk her middle finger into her anus he started to plump up in his pants. He felt like tonight she’d be ready. He wanted to try it. He’d been wanting to but they were still getting used to everything with one another. Luckily Y/n was very receptive. Very willing and eager. Never said no.

She kept her eyes on him as she moved her finger in and out and Harry spit over her hole, the saliva hitting the puckered skin, and watched as she pushed it into her opening and moaned. He looked at her face and leaned in to kiss her. It was lovely having her draped over his lap on the couch with her bottom up and bare to him. She’d let him if he wanted to right then. Even if it hurt. He knew she would. But he wanted to get her totally relaxed, make a mess of her pussy first, and have her all subby and needy for him, begging him to fuck her ass. Last time they played she did. She begged him. Sat at the edge of the bed and put her ass in the air. She even cried a little when he told her he didn’t think she was ready yet.

That was the thing about Y/n. She was fun to play with. She dove into her persona headfirst and played the part only wanting more and more. And he hated comparing his wife to Y/n in any way, but Y/n was better at it. By far. Romy had been great too but she was the first one he’d ever really done anything of the sort with. Y/n was more natural at it. And she got wetter too. Harry had never slept with any woman that would get so wet so fast.

Like right now. Her pussy was already eagerly seeping arousal. Running his fingers through her crease and to her bum where her finger was, he pulled her finger out and slowly pushed his own in, “Let’s see how Daddy does it.”

He sucked in a deep breath as he watched his finger slide in, coated in her slick, massaging her walls.

She kept her eyes on him and whined when his finger pushed in to the knuckle. Harry looked from where his finger was working her open to her eyes and with his free hand he pulled her in for another kiss.

“Feels good doesn’t it, little girl. Want more?”

Nodding her head she smiled softly. Harry pinched her chin before removing his finger from her bottom and swiping it through her folds again, collecting her slippery juice over two of his fingers.

“Keep your eyes on me. Let me see your pretty eyes while I finger your ass.”

Harry slowly prodded his fingers into her, stretching her open, and her mouth parted.

When she started rocking her hips Harry swatted her bottom and removed his fingers, “Up. Get off.”

She straightened herself out and stood next to the couch as Harry got up and crossed the room and reach into his bag. He turned and pointed at the bed, “Panties off, bend over the bed.”

Doing what he said quickly she stepped out of her panties and kicked them to the side of the room and lifted her skirt as she bent herself and waited.

Harry stepped in behind her, “Spread your cheeks.”

She reached around, bringing her hands to her bottom, and used her fingers to part her cheeks for him. Feeling the cool liquid of the lube drip over her anus she bit her lip and turned her head on the comforter to chance being able to see Harry in her peripheral.

He stuck his finger into her entrance, smearing the lubrication inside and all around before getting the plug coated.

“Are you ready?” He spoke as he pressed the tip of the heavy glass toy to her bum.

Y/n nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry smiled and began to push it inside of her. Once it was pressed through her hole and secured, he turned it and pushed at it, causing her to jolt and then moan. He knew she liked it. She expressed as much the first time he put one in her. Though the first he used was half the size as she was currently on, she loved it. And with the way she took it in so much better than all the times before, he could tell she’d be ready for what he had in store for her tonight.

“Looks pretty, Y/n. But just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment. Take your clothes off.”

Standing up straight she turned to look at Harry and removed her top and her skirt. He stood a few feet from her and looked over her pretty frame. She was perfect for him. From top to bottom.

Harry stood in front of her and brought up the collar that connected to the harness. He tightened it around her neck and then attached the leash. Harry yanked on the leather and Y/n quickly fell to her knees in front of him. She kept her eyes on him at all times, knowing that was what he required. Pulling at her collar as he walked toward the closet, she crawled with him on all fours quickly.

Harry brought the harness out of one of the suitcases and then pulled out another long leather strap. Without a word he bent down and put the harness over her head, securing the straps under her torso and buckling it up around her back. He tested the tightness, lifting her the smallest bit at the back where the straps intersected.

“Good.” Was all he said before he pulled her along with him to the bed, gesturing for her to climb up.

She stayed quiet as he told her what he wanted. She got onto her hands and knees and then Harry came up behind her on the bed and yanked at the loop at the back of the harness, lifting her upward so only her knees were on the mattress. He pulled both of her hands behind her back and secured her wrists together with the leather strap and then to the loop at the back of the harness.

He removed the leash from her collar and placed it on the bed and grasped the loop at the back of her harness where her wrists were secured, lowering her face down to the bed.

Harry enjoyed how compliant she always was, how sweet, how horny…

Rubbing over her bottom he peeked at the plug and tapped it, causing her to stiffen and peep out a hushed moan. Then suddenly she felt the stiff, smooth, cool leather of the leash being run through her soaked folds before cracking it down over her bum.

She thrashed at the sudden sharp tear into her skin but bit her lip to keep quiet.

He repeated his actions, putting the leather over her pussy and dragging it upward toward her bum and then whipping the stiff leash over the other side of her bottom. She panted and closed her eyes.

Harry could see her balling her fists behind her back. The mix between the leather being moved through her crease and then coming down hard on her plump flesh was giving her goosebumps and making her heart race wildly.

He loved watching her try and hold still. She really was a good girl. Always doing her best to please him. He smirked to himself when he saw her face smushed into the blanket, her eyes pinched closed and her lips bitten and wet, small gasps falling from her mouth.

Harry grabbed her hair, yanking her neck back as he pushed a finger through her wet center, “You’re so naughty, Y/n. Such a slut for me aren’t you? Here I am spanking you with the leash you love me to put on your neck and you’re completely making a mess of the blankets under you,” he pushed a finger into her entrance and she moaned at the intrusion.

Looking down at the work he’s done he realized her arousal had gotten onto the leash and transferred to the skin on her bottom when he’d spanked her with it, “So dirty.”

Harry released her hair from his hand and unbuttoned his pants pulling his hard cock out of the front of his briefs and leaning over her bottom, his tip gliding up and down through her drenched cunt. He held onto her hands behind her back as he pushed into her.

She yelped into the comforter below her, the fabric muffling her noises. The feel of his big cock slipping into her and the plug taking up so much space felt achy and full.

He moaned at the feel of her. With the toy inside she was so tight and he could feel it pressing into her walls as he began to fuck down into her. The part of the toy that was sticking out was nudging up and down from the invasion of his cock inside of her with each press and pull.

She gasped and clenched involuntarily around him as he thrusted deep. She could feel the toy in her anus being pushed and prodded with each plunge of his cock into her pussy.

“If you’d been a good girl for me last night at the dinner,” he said as he bucked inward deeply and sharply, “I’d rub your clit for you to make it easier for you to come,” he spoke in between his plunges, “as it is… fffuckk…” he groaned when she clamped her pussy hard, “you were naughty,” he panted his words as he tapped the tip of the plug and then pulled at it before pushing it back into her.

Y/n bit down on the blanket as she moaned. She’d come without clitoral stimulation before and with the toy inside of her bum she knew she’d come again without it.

And when Harry began to fuck into her, rocking himself in hard and deep, his hips striking her ass as he set in with a hungry pace she felt his hand squeeze hers so he could guide her into him. The leather harness on her body was pinching into her skin, the front straps were crossed between her breasts causing them to squish together. It ached. His wide shaft pushed into her walls with slick glides, punching into her cervix every time his hips met her ass. The toy pinched and jostled inside her tight hole but she felt the sting that she loved when he put it in her.

In a sudden act of defiance, she turned her head to the side so she could speak, “Fuck my ass, Daddy. Want your cock in there. Now. Please!”

Harry groaned and pounded in harder, letting go of her wrist with one of his hands he brought his palm down and spanked hard making her cry out and jump, but he only held onto her tighter so he could push himself in deeper.

“My baby girl is asking for something she doesn’t deserve,” another strike to her bum as he continued mercilessly pounding her with his cock.

Y/n yelped and shook her head, “I’m a good girl- Ahhh!!”

Harry let go of her hand and pushed her down flat to the bed as he pulled his cock out. Harry was already feeling the buzz of his orgasm building. He needed to take it a little slower if he didn’t want to come too fast. He wanted to really give it to her good when he finally fucked her tightest hole. And he was all talk really. He wanted her to come and he would definitely be fucking her ass. He wanted it just as much as she did. It’d been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of having anal sex.

Standing up next to the bed he watched her writhe in agony at the loss of his cock and he smirked to himself as he rid himself of his clothes. He held onto his thick cock as he went through his bag and pulled out a dildo with a vibrator that stimulated the G-spot and the clit. He’d used it on her once before but she begged him to use his cock instead, which had him very pleased. She preferred the real thing. Of course, she did. But this time, Harry would have her pussy filled with the vibrator and her ass filled with him.

Kneeling behind her on the bed he popped her cheek again and pulled her hips upward, “Let’s get this out of here. Put something a little bigger inside. See if you can really handle me like you say you can.”

Y/n sighed and smiled as he slid the plug out and tossed it on the bed. She wiggled her bottom and in return, he smacked her bum hard, two strikes on each side, “Fffuck! Ow!!” She cried out and surged forward to get away from his spankings.

Harry grasped her hair and yanked her up, “Stay still like a good girl, Y/n. Or you won’t get anything you want today.”

Letting go of her hair he pushed her down by her neck back into the bed and smoothed a glob of lube over his cock and a little more onto her anus. It was a pretty view. Shiny and clenching, the back of her smooth thighs steadying herself as she squirmed the tiniest bit.

Holding his heavy dick up toward her ass he pressed the tip to her hole and then grasped onto her wrist with his other hand to keep her balanced as he was about to push into her with a firm thrust.

“I’m gonna wreck this hole, baby. Come inside of you and have you dripping with my come all down your pussy and your thighs,” he said as he rubbed the backs of her thighs, already slick with lube. She moaned in response.

Dipping into her he felt her stiffen at the intrusion. He was wider and longer than the plug. He only pushed in just passed her anus but could tell she was already feeling the difference in size.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna go in slow. Get you all opened up nice and wide for me. Can you relax a little baby girl?”

Y/n nodded, “Yes, Daddy. I’m gonna relax. Keep going…” Her words were breathy.

Pushing in a little more he watched as his dense cock slowly sunk in, little by little. He kept her steady holding her wrist and used his free hand to gently slip his fingers over her clit. He told her he wasn’t going to but he needed her to feel good. Wanted this to be enjoyable for her since it was her first time.

“Look at that… little girl… oooh fffuck,” he panted, “Daddy is the first to fuck your ass. How’s it feel?”

Y/n gurgled as she tried to open her throat to speak, “Goooood- yess!”

Harry smiled as he began to pump in and out slowly, “Yeah? You’re taking me so well baby. It feels fucking good doesn’t it?”

She could only nod as he filled her and backed himself out then pushed in harder. Slowly she felt the tingle of something yummy inside. The way he was gliding through her anus and into her rectum. Harry had talked her through everything the first time he introduced her to the idea of anal. Explained how it would work and that anal sex could sometimes be messy but not usually.

When he felt she was nicely opened up and enjoying it (and the way she was pushing against his thrusts told him as much) he removed his fingers from her clit and brought the vibrator up so she could see it, “Gonna make you stuffed full. Think you can handle this inside your cunt? Hm?”

Y/n nodded and moaned, “Yes. I can.”

Harry stopped rolling his hips into her and let go of her wrist as he placed the tip of the toy at her entrance. Pulling his cock out nearly all the way he pushed the toy into her pussy, thrusting a few times before bringing it back out to the tip and then pushed both the toy and his cock inward. Her small pants and gasps suddenly were hushed and her mouth drew open wide as she felt the thickness of his cock and the smooth length of the toy entering her at the same time.

Harry kept his hand on the base of the toy as he thrusted it into her slowly in time with his cock into her ass. He could tell it was a lot for her but she was so wet and her pussy was aching for something to fill it, “Want me to turn it on? Keep it deep inside of you while I fuck your bottom?”

Once again, she was unable to respond with words, only nodding her head and breathing deeply at the way she was being stretched and filled.

Harry pushed the toy in as far as it would reach, angling the nob at the front near her clit, and clicked it on. The moment the vibrations began to pulse through her insides he let out a soft moan and threw his head back. It felt good for him too. He felt the vibrations through her walls to his cock. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and kept the vibrator plunged in deep so the vibrations would hit her spots and her clit would be stimulated as he began to move into her again the tip of his cock was being stimulated every time he dipped in as far as he could go.

Y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and drool pooled under her mouth on the comforter. Her small whimpers and huffs were hushed as he continued a slow, sensual pace into her. She felt his fingers tighten around her wrist as his moans grew louder and his hips stuttered each time he thrust. Every little bump and nudge and stroke into her was on fire. Her body began to shake and the pressure built up from her core and spread like lava to her pussy and down her thighs.

She was going to come and there was nothing that was going to stop it. She could also feel the deep forceful snap inside that meant she was about to make a big mess. Maybe bigger than any of her past messes.

Harry had made her squirt a handful of times. One of the times was pretty significant and soaked the bed he slept on with Romy. He’d had her at his home tied up to the bed while Romy was out for the night with “girlfriends” (which thinking back on all the times Romy was out made him wonder). He knew it was risky fucking his mistress in his home but he didn’t care when it came to Y/n. Somehow he’d subconsciously already resigned himself to it being over with Romy. Even though he did still love her at that time, he could say for certain he was no longer in love with his wife. Not when he had Y/n who took such good care of him, who loved everything he did to her. Who begged and pleaded with him just to suck him off. Who looked at him as if he were hers. And he was hers. Just like she was his. Y/n was his little girl. The one he wanted to keep around for good. It hadn’t started that way but he was in too deep now.

She couldn’t warn him that she was about to let loose. It was as if having her pussy and her ass filled at the same time rendered her speechless. Dumb. She could barely breathe let alone think a coherent thought. The smallest noises falling from her lips were all she could articulate when she suddenly stilled and wailed loudly as her body convulsed. Harry saw the liquid drip down her thighs and to the mattress and realized what was going on. He pulled the toy out and it was like a small shower had been turned on and poured from her down to the bed. She whined and choked out cries as she squirted. Harry stilled his hips to watch and let her release the way she needed.

“Fffuck baby girl! Fffuck…” he loved watching it. When she’d squirted all over his bed at his home he wanted to take a video of it. But this one was more intense. More liquid poured from her as she writhed and thrashed under him. He attempted to keep her still so he didn’t need to pull out, not wanting to remove his cock from her warm hole.

When she’d finished she was panting and mumbling. Her legs were jelly but Harry held her up so he could continue. He started up again, moving his hips into her, his knees wet with her liquid, the bed would have to be cleaned up and he’d need to call for someone to come and give them new sheets but he was high with lust as he was about to come.

“Put it back in, Daddy- Please…” Y/n whispered.

Harry chuckled and picked the toy back up to put it back in, “Want me to turn it back on or was that too much?”

“Yes. On.”

Y/n had squirted but she hadn’t orgasmed like she needed. That was something else she learned with Harry. Squirting doesn’t always mean you’ve come. It’s a great feeling but it’s not the same and she’d been so close to coming before her body gave in to the pressure that had built up inside of her.

Harry put the toy in all the way and turned it on again. His cock was throbbing, ready to release into her but he knew she was about to come and he wanted to feel her coming before letting himself go.

His thrusts were gentle as he was in as far as he could go, his frenulum vibrating from the toy in her vagina. He started to see white and his ears started to ring as he felt her anus close and pulse around him.

He kept his eyes on her but he couldn’t see her face and she was silent so when she started coming he could only tell by the way her body began shaking and her back arched deep, her thighs stiffened against his thrusts.

“Oh baby, fuck!” Harry growled as he came inside of her. He wanted to hold out longer but everything felt so good. His cock was being squeezed and the vibrations had him on edge since he turned the toy on the first time.

They both came together, Harry the only one moaning and cursing as he released. Y/n couldn’t peep a noise as her mouth was wide and spit slid down her chin.

Harry’s sloppy thrusts came to a halt as he spilled into her, moving his hand from her wrist to hold one of her hands as he stilled his hips and gasped with his orgasm.

When he’d finally begun to come down he noticed Y/n was silent still. He gradually pulled the toy out of her and gently, softly removed his cock, holding her hips steady as he watched his warm come slowly drip from her.

“You okay, Y/n? Talk to me sweetheart,” he spoke quietly as he kept his eyes on her ass.

He heard her grunt a response and he leaned around to see her face, pulling her down to her side to face him. Her eyes were closed and her face was wet. The girl was spent. He wiped at the drool at the edge of her mouth and sighed. His sweet girl.

Unhooking her wrists and the harness from her body he called for housekeeping and a new set of sheets, “Yes, just come in and change the sheets out. We’ll be in the bathroom so please just come in. You won’t disturb us.”

He knew Y/n would need a bit to come back a little. A soak in the tub would help. It usually did.

And she did come back slowly. Everything was fuzzy and felt sweet and soft as she realized she was sitting in a tub of water with Harry behind her, speaking softly into her ear, “Tomorrow I’ve got a big surprise for you. I hope you like it.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about but she finally could speak, her words coming out in a soft croak, “I know I’ll like it.”

“There she is. You’re back to me now. How are you feeling?”

Y/n nodded and smiled, “So good. You always make me feel so good.”

Harry smiled and kissed the soft spot of skin near her ear.

When her brain started to piece everything together she began thinking in the silence as she was leaning her back against his chest in the soaker tub and she was beginning to feel her limbs again.

Harry was softly rubbing his hands up and down her arms as she got the nerve to finally ask him about what had been on her mind, “What will you do?”

He sighed and put his lips to her neck, a soft peck before bending his knees and wrapping his arms around her. He knew what she meant. And he didn’t really know the answer. It was a complicated situation. Divorce could be very ugly. It could take a long time. There was a lot of money between Harry and his wife.

“I need to talk to Sean and then Romy before making any decisions. I’m not sure yet what will happen.”

Y/n hoped he’d want to talk to her about it. He had the night before. A little. She understood that he was hurt because Sean was his friend. And that was the part that he was most upset about. But she still felt like she could listen and be there for him. But of course, it was clear he wasn’t interested in talking to her about it. So she kept quiet with her thoughts.

And Harry noticed her retreating into her head. When they’d settled into bed on the clean sheets, and she pulled the covers over herself he could practically hear her brain working overtime. The chronic overthinker that she was.

He knew what she wanted but he hadn’t even had a moment to really think about it himself. And even though he could see her feelings were a little hurt he couldn’t bring himself to open up to her about it all just yet but that was only because he really didn’t want to even think about it.

He climbed into the bed next to her and reached an arm out to push her hair back from her forehead, “Don’t overthink. Okay?”

. . .

The next morning Harry picked out her clothes for her and made her eat breakfast. He helped her move around as she was quite sore. Putting her into his car he pulled out of the parking garage and began to tell her their plans.

“I’m gonna show you something right now. Then we’ll figure out a few things for how to proceed further. Okay? But I want it all to be a surprise so I’m not telling you until we get there.”

Y/n was still in a state of leftover bliss. She’d gone into her subspace the night before and slept like the dead after their bath. She was content and just happy to be with Harry doing whatever it was he wanted.

When they pulled up to a walk-up brownstone, Harry parked out front. There was a small gated-off yard, just big enough for a small patch of flowers and a shrub. He held her hand as they walked up the handful of steps to the front door.

He was quiet as he brought her inside. The place was gorgeous. Tall windows and lovely wood floors, a lot of vintage features but the place was clearly updated from the days it was built. A fireplace in the front room a kitchen at the back and stairs that led up to three bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms.

He let her explore the place. She was quiet all throughout, not quite sure what this was, and certainly not wanting to get her hopes up or jump to conclusions.

Finally, once they got to the only room that was decorated with furniture, the master bedroom, Harry spoke, “What do you think?”

Y/n turned to look at him curiously and then looked out of the window, “It’s a lovely house. I think it’s beautiful.”

Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her front, “It’s yours if you want. I started the process of buying the place not long after I met you. I intended on this being yours but given my new circumstances, I figure there’s room for us both. I don’t want you living in that shitty apartment anymore. This neighborhood is safer and closer to everything.”

She turned quickly pulling away and looked at him with shock, “What? Harry, I can’t – there’s no way!”

He tsk’d her and pulled her back into his arms closer, “You can and you will. I won’t accept no. This is for us. You will be moving in here. If you want to be with me.”

She puffed out a breath and frowned, “Harry… but- tell me what this means. I’m confused right now and… you said last night you didn’t know what you were going to do about Romy and if you’re going to continue being married to her I feel like this is too much. Right? We can’t just move in together while you’re married.”

Harry grasped her chin, “Shhh… Romy doesn’t matter anymore. She has no say over anything. I want you, Y/n. All to myself.”

She didn’t know what it meant still. Shaking her head to loosen the grip he had on her chin she spoke, “But what about you? I can’t have you all to myself, and if I can’t… then-“ she clenched her jaw and felt herself get overwhelmed. She hadn’t wanted to say any of that but the whole thing had her feeling emotional and unsure. She wanted him to herself. She didn’t want to share him with Romy or any other woman. She was in love and if he only wanted her there with him for convenience because she was some kind of plaything well her heart would simply burst and she’d cease to live.

“I’m yours, baby. I’ve been yours. I want you with me. You and me. Together.”

Being the overthinker she was, though, she couldn’t let go of her doubt and her concern, “But… you don’t want a relationship. Right? I can’t be just some-“

Harry shushed her and pressed his lips over hers as he chuckled, “I do, darling. Is that okay? You’ll be my girl. My only girl. And I’ll be your man. Whatever you want to call that. You’re so important to me, Y/n.”

She felt stupid tears rush down her cheeks. She wanted a real commitment from him and this all sounded like just that. But with worry on her face, she took a deep breath, “No one else? Like you would – be my boyfriend? For real?”

Harry grinned and pressed his forehead to hers. He knew she wanted him to say it to put her mind at ease. And the truth was that the title felt silly to him. He felt she was so much more than just his girlfriend. He was falling for her and he wanted her in his life for good.

“My sweet girl,” Harry thumbed at her tears and kissed the edge of her mouth, “I want you forever. My lover, my friend, my partner. You’re more than just some girlfriend. I’m serious about you, baby.”

Her face grew wetter when she sobbed out in a quiet cry and tried to hide her face in embarrassment. It had been all she wanted and he was offering it all to her. She hated that she’d gotten so worked up and overwhelmed but really, her reaction was quite normal. She’d always been emotional and easy to overwhelm.

Harry rubbed her back and pulled her with him to sit on his lap at the edge of the bed. He let her calm down as he gently ran his hand over her shoulders and then brought his fingers into her hair.

She appreciated that he always knew when to just sit and let her compose herself. She put her hands up to his chest and pushed back to look up at him, once again, positive she looked like a lunatic just as the night before with her running mascara and puffy face.

His green eyes were looking over her face as he cupped her cheeks, “So pretty,” his thumbs ran under her eyes to wipe at her tears, “are you okay?”

Nodding her head she put her own hands over his.

“Good. Now, how about you tell me again how excited you are about all of this? How you can’t wait to move in with me here?” he grinned.

She smiled timidly and blinked her eyes, “I’m so excited. Thank you for this.”

. . .

After going to her apartment to pack a few things up and put them into Harry’s trunk they drove to his house. Y/n was nervous, though. There was a possibility that Romy was there and Y/n would be facing her for the first time in this context.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Really. First, she’s probably not there anyway. And even if she is there’s nothing she can say or do that you should listen to. In this case, she’s in the wrong. Okay?”

Even though she nodded, she wasn’t sure.

But of course, once they got there she was not at the house. Just as he’d said.

It was a relief that they could grab the few things Harry wanted to bring with him that night to their new place. Which Y/n hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around. Everything had happened so fast and it was very unexpected. But he said he bought the place with her in mind originally.

Harry stuffed an oversized suitcase with clothes and filled a box with shoes and a few other things, “We can come back to get the rest another time. I think this is good for now.”

“Okay. So should we go?” Y/n was still nervous about running into Romy. She was ready to just leave. She’d be happy to never see Romy again if she could help it.

“Why the rush, little girl? Afraid you’re gonna get caught here with me? Hm?”

Nodding her head, she moved into his arms at his urging, “I always say this and it’s the truth. You don’t need to worry about anything. Okay? You’re safe with me. Romy is no one to be scared of. Understood?”

Keeping her eyes on his she nodded again but it didn’t help her nerves soften in the slightest. The idea that Romy could walk in at any moment was giving her anxiety. And she knew that Romy wouldn’t do anything to her and that Harry was right but that didn’t quell her being on edge.

“Here, let’s sit and have a glass of wine. Relax a little.”

The stools at the kitchen island were large and comfortable. The moment she sat down she felt the smallest bit better. Her nerves were still there but she did her best to push it down for Harry.

He turned on music from his phone connected to the Bluetooth speakers and poured two glasses of wine.

He knew they should be going. He knew that it was possible that Romy would show up. But there was something in him that wanted Romy to see him moving on. To see him with someone else so she’d know she hadn’t hurt him. He hated when there was the possibility that someone thought they somehow had the upper hand and he didn’t want Romy feeling like that. Feeling that she’d broken her husband's heart and having pity on him. That was unacceptable. So while it might have been a little deceptive of him, he stalled in hopes of stomping out any pity Romy might feel for him. He wanted her to see him happy with someone else because he was happy.

Harry moved his stool close to Y/n’s and put his hand in between her thighs with one hand and sipped his wine with the other.

Y/n realized that his hand was going higher under her dress. And Harry had insisted she not wear underwear so she suddenly felt very much like this was his plan all along. She often couldn’t decide on things or make decisions but she wasn’t dumb. She turned to look at him, putting her own hand on his, “Harry! What are you doing?”

Harry’s smirk as looked down at Y/n was telling, “Whatever I want. Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t. But… Y/n…” he said inching his hand up further and meeting no resistance, “I know how to make you feel good and make you forget all your worries,” he licked his lips as he continued, “How to ease your nerves and make you smile and moan. I can do that for you now. One last hurrah in the old house. What do you think?”

She was sure she should shake her head no and insist they leave but the proximity of his face to hers, his bright green eyes, his fingers on her thigh, the idea of perhaps getting caught… it felt like a yes to her so she nodded.

Harry kissed her the moment she nodded yes. His girl was so good. She was just perfect for him.

He pulled her into his lap, making her move from her stool to his, keeping her back toward the island he lifted her skirt up and peeked at her bare pussy, “I think it was a great choice to make you go sans panties.”

He slowly rubbed her clit and pulled at her to connect their lips again. He would love to just put her in his pocket and bring her with him everywhere. To work, to the gym, to boring dinner meetings… Make her quit school and just be his little accessory to fuck and play with all the time. But as his lips were slotting into hers and he felt her warm tongue swipe his bottom lip he moaned and felt the pad of his finger over her clit get a little wet. He didn’t just want her like an accessory. She was more than that to him. He truly was serious about her. Wanted it all with her.

He’d never really wanted kids. Romy had never sparked that kind of feeling in him. Never really thought they’d make good parents. But with Y/n, he’d trust her to be a mother to his kids. To take care of them and him. And he’d take care of her. His sweet girl was something special. More special and better than anyone else to him.

“Baby… You’re so good to me, you know that?” He spoke as he pulled away from the kiss while his finger continued working over her clit.

“I want to be.”

“You are. You have been. Don’t doubt how amazing you are. You’re the best. I need you.”

Y/n was still overwhelmed. This day had been completely wild to her. The new place as well as Harry’s admissions of his feelings.

When he put a finger into her entrance she sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting him to begin fingering into her in the kitchen. She was already nice and wet for him. Harry kept her back against the island and her thighs parted over his thighs so he could see. The wet sound of her pussy getting finger fucked and the sultry look in his eyes had her mind suddenly being overcome with feelings and emotions. She needed to say it.

“Daddy… I love you.” She gasped the moment the words left her mouth. Immediately regretting it but suddenly he pushed in another finger and pulled her into his chest and pressed his mouth to hers hard. The kiss was wet and sloppy just like the way he was fingering her.

She rocked over his pants and felt him bulk up under the fabric and he moaned.

Harry got dizzy when he heard those three words coming from her. They’d been on the tip of his tongue too but he was worried it was too soon. She was so young and he didn’t want her to feel more pressure or overwhelmed. He didn’t want to say it and have her run away or even worse, feel like she needed to say it back so she didn’t hurt his feelings. But she’d said it first. And now he was on top of the world.

“Fuck, baby girl. I need to have you now. You love me? Love Daddy?” He backed away from the kiss and pulled his fingers out of her cunt.

She nodded with big eyes and hot cheeks. She felt a little embarrassed, but his reaction seemed positive. Though he didn’t say the words back to her.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” Harry helped her off his lap and stood up as he began to unbutton his shirt, “Take your dress off.”

Y/n, as always, was quick to do as she was told. She had nothing on under her dress so the moment it was slipped over her head and dropped to the floor she was completely naked.

Harry pushed his pants down, the front of them damped from her arousal. He kicked them to the side of the stool and then pulled his underwear down before bringing his lover back into his arms, capturing her lips with his. Lowering his hands around her back and down over her bottom he ran his fingers through her wet folds from the back and his cock nudged at her pussy from the front.

She held onto his biceps as he pulled her thigh up, hitching it over his hip, and put his cock at her entrance, her back to the island.

When he’d pushed his thick head into her they both moaned and gripped one another tight as he began to fuck into her right in the kitchen.

In a quick movement, he lifted her up to the island, putting her bare bottom on the cold marble, and thrust back into her again. She keened and planted her feet flat onto the island top with her legs spread wide for his access as he fucked her.

Their lips crashed together again as he rolled his hips into her slowly. Soft gasps and pants between kisses filled the space around them.

Harry’s cock was slick with Y/n, her little cunt wet and open for him as he plunged in, his thighs working himself into her, “Fuck me, little girl. So fucking good for Daddy-“

“Oh my god!”

The screeching of Romy’s voice and then the gasp of a man had Harry stopping his thrusts. Y/n hid her face into Harry’s chest and he covered her with his arms as he turned to look over his shoulder at his wife and his best friend with jaws dropped in shock at the scene.

“Oh, hello Romy, Sean. Nice to see you two again. If you don’t mind. I’m in the middle of something here. We’d like some privacy.”

“The fuck Harry!! What is this? You can’t do this here!”

Harry chuckled and kissed Y/n’s forehead whispering to her, “Don’t worry sweetheart. Just hold on to me tight.”

“Fine. We’ll go to the bedroom over here to finish up. Don’t mind the clothes. We’ll get them on the way out after we’re done.”

Harry lifted Y/n, holding her under her thighs as she kept her face tucked into his chest. He walked them to the guest bedroom that was nearest to the kitchen and laid her on the bed before closing the door and locking it.

This was what she had been nervous about but it was worse. Because she was naked and on his cock when Romy came home. She felt her heart whacking around in her chest as Harry knelt on the bed next to her, “Are you okay, my love?”

She didn’t know. She was horny and nervous and feeling so many things so she just looked at him as she propped herself up by her elbows, “I don’t know.”

Harry nodded and laid down next to her, pulling her in close, “Relax. Okay? Can you relax? Do you want to just go? We can walk out there now, get out clothes and get out of here.”

“I don’t want them to see me.”

“Who gives a fuck about them? What do you want? Hm? Want me to continue where we just left off? Make you come on my cock? I think you’ll feel all better once you have an orgasm.”

She puffed out a laugh through her nose. She couldn’t believe this man. His wife had just caught him fucking someone and he was asking if she wanted to continue. When his hand smoothed down her side and over the curve of her hip he pulled her hips flush to his where his cock was still hard and pressed against her pelvis.

She gulped down her saliva and kept her eyes on Harry’s as he slowly moved his heavy dick through her crease, nudging her clit over and over again.

She sucked in a deep breath and felt herself tingle from excitement and from the taboo of it. Maybe this could be the thing that proved Harry was hers. He wasn’t anyone else’s. Certainly not Romy’s.

“I’m still so wet for you,” she whispered as she raised her thigh and draped it over his. Harry was taken aback by her bit of boldness. She wanted to be fucked.

“You are, aren’t you? We need to take advantage of this don’t we?” He said as he poked his bulbous head into her entrance.

Y/n nodded quickly and pushed herself down over him, causing his thick tip to drive inside of her past her muscle and she moaned quietly.

They’d never had sex in that position before. In their nearly two months of fucking, he’d never had sex with her on her side facing him. It felt intimate. They watched each other as Harry slowly moved himself in and out of her, long wet strokes, his hips snapping inward as he bottomed out to push in deeper. Her tiny yelps at the way he pushed into her so fully were hushed at first. She tried to keep her voice down.

But then once Harry found a good rhythm and he began to slick himself in to the hilt on each stroke her moans and gasps grew louder as did the bed they were on. The bed frame squeaked and their skin slapped together as they kept their eyes locked.

“Oh!!” Y/n groaned loudly when Harry pulled her hips in closer so he could grind into her, circling his hips to lodge himself into her guts.

Harry suddenly pulled out and got onto his back, pulling her over him, “Gonna fuck you like this, want to hold you close to me when we come together.”

Harry pushed himself in and dragged his cock out and then fucked up into her slowly. Part of Y/n wished the bed wasn’t so creaky but another part of her enjoyed that Romy could hear the bed frame in time with his thrusts along with her gasps and moans, and Harry’s grunts and words of praise.

He smacked her bottom and she clenched and cooed, “Ahh!”

Harry smiled as he worked himself into her. His cock was so hard and he was so turned on with his sweet girl riding his cock and hopefully the two intruders outside the door were able to hear it all. He wanted them to know he didn’t give a fuck about them. The only thing that mattered was his girl.

He felt her rolling her hips into him, her breaths deepened as he held her close in his arms, not letting up his movements. Her soft insides swallowed him as he jerked his hips up, filling her with his cock.

“Feels so good doesn’t it? Fuck! Making Daddy’s cock feel so good. So messy baby.”

And it was messy. Y/n could even feel how wet everything was between them. Every plunge of his cock into her guts had her clit rubbing at his pubic bone and the hairs above his dick. Her body was shaking as she let him ravage her and pump his thick shaft through her walls, only going in harder as he got closer to his own end.

“Yes! Feels really good,” she panted her words and Harry wrapped his lips around hers as his own thighs began to shake. She was squeezing around him so good it was making his head spin.

“Come for Daddy. Show everyone who you belong to.”

She gasped and felt heat spreading through her insides, her clit throbbing at the stimulation from him.

“Please! Oh!”

The noise coming from the room was hard to hide. The sound of slapping of skin, the bed bouncing, moans and gasps and hushed words… Of course, the occasional sound of Harry’s hand spanking Y/n’s plump bottom was heard as well.

But inside the room, the lovers could also hear how wet everything was. Y/n’s pussy was dripping and it was going to make a mess of the bed.

“Yeah? Wanna come, baby girl? Need it so bad don’t you?”

“Fffffuck! Yes!”

Pressing his mouth back over hers she suddenly stiffened and her pussy fluttered as she spiraled on his twitching cock. Her moan was loud and breathy, her mouth opened wide. Harry tried to keep his lips over hers to kiss her through her orgasm but then his own started, his spine shivering as he poured into her, his groan was vulgar, “FFfuck!”

The bed didn’t stop squeaking until Harry had finally come down, slowing the movement of his hips and the thrusts into her. Y/n was spent with her cheek pressed to his pec.

Harry tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead, “Baby girl… you’re so fucking good. Make me come so fast. Mmm…” he smiled and planted another soft kiss on her temple.

Y/n moaned and smiled to herself. She loved him so much and she didn’t know if he loved her but she knew he liked that she loved him and so that was enough for her at that moment.

Harry slowly pulled out and rolled her to her back, “Stay here. I’ll get our clothes.”

Walking into the kitchen buck naked, Harry was relieved that Romy and Sean weren’t there. He didn’t know if they were still in the house or not but for Y/n’s sake not having them right next to the room where they’d been fucking was probably for the best.

Harry helped her put her clothes on and wiped her drippy pussy up so she didn’t make a mess in his car or on her clothes. Harry spoke softly to her, reassuring her everything was okay.

As they exited the house with Harry’s things Sean suddenly appeared, “Can I talk to you?”

Harry kissed Y/n’s cheek and patted her bottom, “Go get in the car.”

Walking back inside with Sean, he crossed his arms over his chest, “Two minutes.”

“Is that Y/n?”

“Yes. Now what is it that you’d like to talk to me about?”

Sean rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head, “Look man, I never meant for this to happen. I’m sorry. Really. It just… I don’t know. One day it just happened and I couldn’t stop it. I fell in love.”

Harry kept himself quiet as his gaze seared into Sean’s face. His best friend was no longer a friend. Even if he no longer loved Romy it was a betrayal.

“Say something. Please. We need to know you’re okay, Harry.”

Harry laughed incredulously, “Am I okay? You two fucked up. I’m fine. I’m in love with someone else anyway. Romy and I lost our love a long time ago. Perhaps if you’d just been honest from the get-go we could have avoided this whole disaster. But as it stands, you and I are done. I’ll buy your portion of the stock and you can go do what you want with the rest but I won’t work with someone who’s a liar. Someone who’s gone behind my back for, what’s it been, Sean? A year? More?”

Just then Romy was standing next to Sean, “You can’t do that, Harry. Besides you’ve been fucking someone on the side too so-“

“Oh, that’s bold of you, Romy. You’ve been cheating on me with my best friend and work partner for a year before you finally decided to let me have some fun of my own. You gave me the idea to find someone on the side. That wasn’t my suggestion. That was yours.”

“But you said you’re in love with her, I heard you. My rules were-”

“What the fuck does that matter now? Your rules were selfish. You’ve been in love with someone else all this time and you could have told me a long time ago but instead, you lied to me and cheated on me. So fuck your rules and fuck you, Romy.”

Sean and Romy looked at one another before Harry continued, “I’m leaving. I’ll have some movers come in and take a few things I want but you can keep everything else. You’ll hear from my lawyer soon. Both of you.”

Harry walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Now it felt like he could finally move on with his life and he’d have Y/n with him for it. No more wasting time waiting for anything else to work in his favor.

Getting into the car with her he didn’t want to wait another moment to say it – and while it was not the most romantic way in which to tell her, he thought he’d drown if he didn’t spit it out right then especially after having just told Romy and Sean of his feelings for her. Pulling her across the console into his arms he kissed her and then pressed his forehead to hers, “I love you so much, baby girl. You mean everything to me.”

. . .

“Hi. I was looking for Martin. Does he still live here by chance?

The guy at the door nodded and cupped his hands around his mouth, “Estes! Someone’s here to see you!”

Harry waited on the porch and looked around. It was clearly a college neighborhood. Small cheapish cars, unkept lawns, garbage bins left at the curb when they should have been moved away days ago… The house wasn’t a frat house or anything that Harry could tell. Probably just a place where rent was split between everyone living in the house.

Martin stepped outside and looked Harry up and down, “Can I help you?”

“No. You can’t,” Harry spoke as he stepped toward the guy, causing him to back up a little.

“I don’t know who you are, man. You need to leave-“

“I don’t need to do anything you say,” Harry said as he put his hand around the young man’s throat and pushed him into the wall next to the front door, “because you’re a piece of shit who likes to hurt women. Isn’t that right, Martin?”

The guy tried pushing at Harry’s chest as his face grew red, “Get off me!”

Harry squeezed harder, silencing him, “No. I won’t. Just like when you wouldn’t stop hitting a sweet young girl when she needed you to stop. You hurt her and all these years later still recalls what you did to her.”

Martin’s face was beet red as he shook his head, his hands grasping at Harry’s forearm, unable to utter a word with the way Harry’s hand was pressing into his larynx, “Her name is Y/n. Do you remember her? The prettiest and sweetest thing you’ve probably ever laid eyes on and you hurt her. You’re lucky we’re in public right now and that she’d undoubtedly not appreciate me coming here and talking to you in this manner. Because otherwise, I’d beat you so hard your fucking legs would never work again you piece of dog shit. This is your warning to keep your hands to yourself unless given permission. When someone tells you to stop you fucking stop – especially when it’s a girl. To hurt her while she’s in a vulnerable position and you’re supposed to be having fun is low and trashy.”

Harry let go of his neck and the guy immediately put his hands up to his throat and spit at Harry.

Harry was just going to leave it. He was going to give him the warning and leave but to be spat at?

Turning to face Martin, Harry reared his fist back and punched the guy in his jaw hard, cracking a tooth in the process, his rings digging into the skin and cutting the flesh.

Grabbing his neck again and through clenched teeth he spoke, “If I see you ever again I will demolish you. You’ll wish you never met her or me. You better pray neither of us ever lay eyes on you after today. Now go and clean yourself up you low-life son of a bitch.”

Harry pushed Martin down, making him tumble onto the porch as he walked away to his car, not turning back to see if he got up or not.

. . .

Y/n had never done so well in school before. Thanks to her new living situation, the man of her dreams, no stress, as well as being well fed and well fucked.

She was no longer worried about changing her major or trying to figure out what she wanted because she didn’t need to worry at all. Harry told her to finish what she’d started, to get her degree and he could help her find something after college if she wanted. And having him tell her to finish was all she needed to hear. So that was that.

Her nights with Harry were so sweet and anyone from the outside would assume very domestic. But the truth was that their sex life was only better with their new arrangement. Their bedroom was set up to play. Harry had her help him in choosing things they’d want to use. And since she was new to it all she learned as she went, Harry guiding her gently and introducing her to everything he loved.

And he knew she was kinky. He knew before he’d even fucked her. He had a feeling. But every time he tried something new with her she only wanted more. Begged him and asked lots of questions. She was curious and fun. And he loved that she was the way she was.

But he knew her all-time favorite was to be totally tied up, unable to move a muscle as he did what he wished. And with their current setup, he could have her secured to the middle of the bed, her arms tied to the bar that hung above (sometimes her legs too), and her ankles strapped down to the bedpost at the foot.

She was half suspended in the air as Harry fucked her from behind and each time he paddled her bottom he thrust inward quickly and deeply. Her shaky moans were raspy as her voice had been strained. Harry had been going at it with her for quite a while. He’d fuck her for five minutes, making her pussy throb and her body jolt as he pounded into her, but then he’d stop. Stepping away with his long, pretty cock swaying as he sipped champagne and watched his sweet girl.

“Had enough, baby girl? Or are you ready to finally come?”

The deal was that she needed to admit to Harry that she was pretty. That she was out of Harry’s league by far. He told her he wanted to hear her say it. To tell him that she was a catch. But for some reason, she just wouldn’t.

Harry walked to the bed where Y/n was tied up and leaned over her back, kissing her shoulder blade, “You have to see it, my love. So pretty and soft,” he said as he ran his finger down her back and to the curve of her bottom, “so perfect and smart. A knockout. Amazing in bed. Too good for me.”

She shook her head, lifting her neck to meet his eyes, “I’m not. You’re better in every way.”

Harry brought the paddle down to her ass again, smacking her harder than he had earlier, and she gasped sharply.

“We’ll do this all night if you want. If you insist on defying me. You know you’re being naughty right? This isn’t what good girls do, Y/n. If you were a good girl you’d tell me what I asked you to. Are you not a good girl for Daddy anymore?”

Y/n groaned and let her head hang down as she swallowed. She had a hard time saying or even thinking that she was in any way better than Harry. She simply didn’t believe it. He was her whole world and there was no way she was even close to being as amazing as he was.

Harry lifted her face to look at him as he pushed her up by her chin, “Say it. Tell me right now and I’ll put you out of your misery. Come on, baby. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Choking out a sob she shook her head, keeping her eyes on his, “No! I’m not a good girl today. I’m sorry but I can’t. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let go of her face, moving to angle himself over her again, paddling both cheeks, twice each.

She yelped and cried out, letting her head droop downward.

Harry knelt in front of her, putting the paddle down, and cupped her face, “Look at me.”

When she moved her eyes to look at him he continued, ‘Do you know how much I love you?”

She nodded. Harry thumbed at her cheeks.

“Then you know that you’re worth loving right?”

Again, Y/n nodded, keeping her eyes on his.

“Right. So you can admit that? That you’re worth loving? I want to hear you say that to me.”

“I’m worth loving.”

“Good girl. I love you. I adore you. Now repeat that to me. Tell me that you’re loved and adored.

“You love me and you adore me,” she smiled softly.

Harry leaned in to kiss her lips.

He was going to make sure she understood how amazing she was. From the beginning, he’d wanted to work on her self-confidence. They’d made some strides but she was still unsure of herself and often said things about herself that Harry didn’t like. He wanted his girl to feel happy and proud of who she was. He’d see to it that she eventually got there.

That was good enough for tonight. When he couldn’t get her to say she was amazing and beautiful in her own right, he could always get her to admit that he felt that way about her, and to him, it was a step in the right direction.

“Okay. That was good. Next time we’ll get a little further, promise? Next time you’ll tell me how pretty and smart you are all on your own. Right?”

Y/n widened her eyes, not sure if she could but she’d try. She wanted to believe him. Believe that she was everything he said. And she was becoming convinced. Because if a guy like him loved a girl like her then there had to be some truth to it.

Harry got himself back into position behind her and held her hips. Her body swayed slightly as he pressed his hips to her bottom. She was already spread out for him with her ankles tied to the bedpost at the foot of the bed.

He painted the crown of his cock through her wet crease and spoke softly to her as he pushed back in, “Such a good girl for Daddy when you want to be. Gonna make you come now, okay baby girl?”

Y/n lazily nodded her head and moaned when she felt his wide tip enter her tight muscle. Every time he thrust in her body was pushed forward and her tits swayed. Being fucked while partly suspended was unlike anything she could describe. To not be able to really use her limbs except to tense her shoulders to relieve the pressure on her joints was thrilling. She loved the way Harry handled her and spoke to her and loved how his cock sliced through her guts so deep and sharp.

Her head rocked back and forth as Harry plunged into her over and over again, long languid strokes into her wet pussy as he pinched at her bottom and spread her cheeks.

But the moment he pressed the vibrator to her clit as he continued fucking into her she felt herself snap and pussy her gripped his cock as she started to convulse.

“Fuck, baby. Coming on my cock already? Yesss, squeeze it, little girl. Fuck…” Harry was already losing it. He’d been at it with her for just over an hour. Not only was he edging her he was edging himself in the process.

Y/n was rendered speechless. She found that she was speechless often when she orgasmed with him. Especially when he’d built it up for so long. She’d come hard and it would scramble her brains. Her vision would go blank and her ears would ring.

Harry sunk into her one final time as he started to come, his throbbing cock lodged in deep, his warm sperm coating her insides as he groaned and leaned over her back.

When Y/n was being lowered to the bed, her arms released from the rope she finally opened her eyes. Harry kissed her elbows and her wrists where the rope had marked her a little and then lifted her up to bring her to the bath he’d drawn for them.

Pulling her into the warm bubbles he handed her a glass of water, “Drink.”

She took a few large gulps and then collapsed with her back into his chest.

“You did so good today. Gonna do better next time, though.”

Y/n nodded, “I know. Sorry. I’m trying.”

Harry kissed the back of her head as he spoke, “I know sweet girl. But stop saying you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

She hummed in agreement and nodded her head.

“Look at how far we’ve come. From just being friends with an arraignment to being lovers living together.”

Y/n smiled, “Yeah. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Harry.”

Harry wrapped his arms tight around her and pressed his lips to her neck with a sigh, “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know that right?”

Closing her eyes and letting his words sink in she realized that he wasn’t lying to her. She trusted him. So why was it so hard to repeat what he said?

“Yes, I know.”

Harry grinned. That made him proud. He loved how sweet and compliant she was but he did want her to feel more confident and feel worthy of everything he gave her and of his feelings for her.

“Good girl. I think you deserve to be collared all day tomorrow. How’s that sound? Want to be Daddy’s little slave tomorrow?”

She nodded her head and hummed her affirmation. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday than to be collared and dominated by Harry Styles.

blurb-the office visit*

This is the final part to this short series! If you want more please send in requests!

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undressrehearsal · 6 months ago

Text

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction #ill have to add this to my masterlist when i get back to my computer in a few days

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wooahaes · 9 months ago

Text

the journey to you

pairing: non-idol!s.coups x fem!reader, ft joshua being a menace

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: mentions of cheol being sick n reader being sick in the past at different points.

word count: 1.1k~

daisy's notes: midnight birthday wishes r so cute i love them

Thirty-five minutes until your birthday and Seungcheol was standing in his apartment after gathering his things.

He had everything he needed to spend the night with you. A change of clothes for tomorrow, any toiletries he didn’t already have stashed over at your place, his chargers, his laptop… Anything else he could drop by here tomorrow. The bus ride from his place to yours was only twenty minutes, and he knew the bus would be almost to the stop by the time he got to it. He shouldered his bag, called out to Joshua that he was leaving, and started on his little journey from one place to another once he yelled back to travel safely (and to pass on his own birthday wishes to you—and that he would text you in the morning). All you knew was that Seungcheol was coming over to see you for your birthday. You didn’t know it’d be tonight. Not that that was a problem: you did the same for Seungcheol’s birthday last year. It was only fair he could do the same to you.

Thirty minutes until your birthday, and he was stepping onto the bus. Right on time.

Seungcheol took his seat and shut his eyes after he put on his headphones. This bus was mostly quiet at this time of night, and he was glad to have a little time to himself after a long day. He’d keep that fact from you, though: if he let it slip that work was tiresome, then you’d pout that cute pout and gently scold him for coming over so late when he should be sleeping. He already took off your birthday for you, though: last year he couldn’t, so this year he made sure that he could spend the day with you. Even if you left him to go see your friends on your own, he could at least make himself useful around your apartment. Cleaning up, doing the laundry: doing the chores you hated doing, but wordlessly did for him when he was sick a few months ago. Even with him living with Joshua, you’d come over and help do the dishes while the soup was cooking. Joshua told him later that you did Seungcheol’s laundry for him, folding it without much of a care. He’d been sick for several days at that point, too, meaning things had needed to get done. When Seungcheol shyly asked if that had been embarrassing for you, you merely shrugged it off. The two of you had been dating for well over a year at that point.

“I used to do laundry for my family when they were busy,” you had said, not thinking much about it. “You were sick. Joshua was busy. I don’t mind doing it. You’d do the same for me, right?”

He would, if you were okay with it. And several months after that, he did. He’d watched you sob in your bed, apologizing over and over for being physically sick and not making it out of bed before you were. Sure, it was gross, but taking care of you was part of being a good partner. He’d washed your bed sheets, helped you get changed into something clean, and cooked for you before going off to handle the rest of the icky jobs you weren’t going to be able to do for a little while. He cared for you the same way you cared for him, and slept on the couch so that he was only a room away if you needed him.

Maybe it was time the two of you got rid of this bus ride between you. He’d pitch the idea to you later, and the two of you could start looking for apartments together eventually. As much as he enjoyed living with Joshua… He liked the idea of waking up to you and being able to kiss you right then and there. The idea of coming home to you, cheesy as it was. The idea of being domestic with you felt like home in itself. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, sure, but he didn’t mind it. Not if it was with you.

Ten minutes until your birthday, and Seungcheol had stepped off the bus.

He waved to the driver before making his way up the street, hands tucked into his jacket. Would you notice how tired he was…? He hoped you wouldn’t. Hopefully, you were asleep in bed now and he’d get to wake you up and wish you happy birthday before anyone else could. It didn’t bother him if he wasn’t the first, but it felt special when he was.

Seungcheol stopped. Joshua was going to text you happy birthday. What was stopping him from doing it at midnight? He scowled. Shit. He immediately took off, five minutes until midnight, realizing he needed to get there as soon as possible. He could live with it being anyone else, but Joshua? Joshua was one of the few who would hold it over his head until he died.

Two minutes until your birthday and Seungcheol was riding the elevator up to your apartment.

Maybe he should have taken the stairs, but this would be faster for sure—barring any emergencies. The minute the doors opened, he glanced at his phone and took off to get to your apartment. He punched in the code, one minute until your birthday. Less now. He pushed the door open, slipping out of his shoes and ditching the house slippers as he went to find you. You were curled up on your couch, taking full advantage of not having to get up the following morning as you played your game. You looked up for barely a second.

“Oh! Hey, Cheollie—”

He just kissed you before you could say anything else. All he needed was your attention on him. Barely seconds later, he heard your phone go off. He just smiled at you instead. “Happy birthday,” he said. “I love you.”

Then you cracked up laughing, pulling his hands away from your cheeks. “I love you, too,” you said, but you paused. “You’re, like, ten seconds too late on being the first one though.”

“What? No.” He pouted at you, sinking down onto the couch. “No, I’m not.”

With a pitiful smile, you held up your phone to reveal two texts from Joshua. The first right at midnight, and the second being a “also lol love u cheol” that he pouted harder at. He had ran! Down the hallway! Hopefully not waking up your neighbors in the process!

“You’re still the first one in my heart,” you said with this teasing lift to your voice, leaning forward to kiss him again.

And, as you knew it would, he stopped pouting. He smiled at you, bringing you in for another kiss. He’d get Joshua back later for this. For now, he was going to enjoy spending your birthday with you right as it began.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune @wonuziex @porridgesblog @staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #s coups fluff #s coups x reader #s coups x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x you #wooahaes.24

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storiesfromafan · 2 months ago

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Wish I Were Her - Benny x Reader

A/N: as promised, the next part. I just finished rewriting it, after not liking the original 😂 hopefully this isn't too bad. Also, forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes, as well as the formate of the post. Posting on my phone while at Starbucks 😅

Previous: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Tag List: @psychocitylights

Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

Put your arm ‘round her shoulder, now I’m getting colder

But how could I hate her? She’s such an angel

But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she...

- Heather by Conan Grey

Butterflies swarmed your stomach, fluttering in excitement and nerves. For tonight you were going to Grand and Division for the first time. Benny was back, and you’d made plans with Sandra and Fran to go to the Vandals bar to hang out. Both women said they’d meet you there, as you had worked till close at the grocery store.

You recall hearing, before seeing, the group of Vandals ride past the store. Part of you wanted to believe it was Benny's doing, checking in on you. But the more rational side knew that the most common route through the town to Grand and Division takes you past your work place.

After work, you had rushed home to have dinner with your parents, before getting ready to go out. You moved around your room in a flurry, putting a few bobby pins in your hair to hold some stray hairs in place, going for a half-up half down-do. Then you hit it with a quick spray of hair spray, just to lock it all in. Make up for the night consisted of light powder, small touch of blush, mascara and some dusty pink lipstick. It gave you a natural look. Because you just knew your parents will question you when you head out. To which you’d tell a small white lie on where you were going.

With one more final look over yourself in the full mirror, you looked over your jeans and sweater – keeping it casual – you nodded before grabbing your cardigan and handbag, slipping on your flats. Heading out of your room, walking along the hall and then bouncing down the staircase, you could hear the television as you came down the stairs. Both parents were sitting on the couch together, watching a show and softly laughing. You smiled at the sweet scene before you. Having always wanted something like what they had.

“I’m heading out for a while" you said, breaking the silence that was filled with soft volume from the TV.

“You’re going out?” Questioned your father as you walked past them.

You nodded. “Yes, I mentioned I was meeting up with Sandra and Fran at dinner".

Your father looked to his watch, using the TV light. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?” His tone had a small firmness to it.

Your mother put her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, she’s young and having fun. Remember when you were young?” She shot you a wink, having your back.

Your father sighed. “Fine. But don’t be out too late. There are some unsavoury people out there" your mother shot him a look and he sighed. “Have fun kiddo".

You smiled moving to give them both a quick hug, and heading for the front door again. “I promise I will be fine, and home not too late!”

Stepping out on the porch you closed the front door and headed down the couple of stairs, down the path to the side walk. From there you walked the short distance for the bus stop, thankfully you only had to wait five minutes before it showed up. Once on you settled in for the short ride.

Looking out the window, you watched how everything passed by. Your excitement and nerves running through you, though the nerves were slowly over taking your excitement. Your mind full of questions. Such as what was the bar like? Would it be as rowdy as you’ve heard? Would Benny be happy to see you? Will he want to see you? Would he stick to your side? Would you get to talk more?

It wasn’t a long ride, finally pulling the cord for your stop. Bus pulling up to the curb before stopping. You smiled, thanking the driver before getting off the bus. You waited for it to pull away before looking left and then right, seeing the street clear you crossed over. From here it was only two blocks to the bar.

With every step it was like your heart was beating in time. Those butterflies restless, nerves hitting you full force. And with it all, that damn voice from the dark distant space of your mind arose. It had you doubting yourself. And doubting Benny.

What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he finds you annoying? Or childish? That voice laughed, what if he’s already got himself a girl? Walking into a den of Vandals, only to be laughed at...

You felt those words weighing heavy on your mind and heart. But you wanted to believe that voice was wrong. You believed there was a chance for you with Benny. Or else he wouldn’t have said and done what he has, right? You pushed that voice back into its corner. And holding your head high you walked on. The sound of engines roaring and cheering had just caught your ears when you were almost to the corner from Grand and Division. You smiled, shakily releasing a breath and the last of your nerves.

Then you turned the corner. Across the road diagonally you saw the neon lights of the bar, out the front were rows of bikes, which had a few men sitting upon them. One of them was the back of an all too familiar body; Benny. He was just sitting on his bike talking to another man, who had light hair with a white bandanna around his head, and earing in his ear, dressed in a denim vest, black t-shirt and dirty jeans. In fact he looked to be dirty in general, maybe a mechanic or something.

Smiling when the pair laughed, you finally found the courage to take a few steps forward, eyes locked on Benny. You noted the bar door opening and out came a group of people. Among them a woman you’d seen around town, Kathy you think her name was. Her brown hair was styled in a casual beehive do, with hair cascading down her back. And she was dressed similar to you, only her sweater was sleeveless. As soon as her eyes landed on Benny and his friend, and bright smile crossed her lips as she moved to them. Kathy greeted the man with the bandanna before greeting Benny.

You stopped in your tracks when she wrapped her arms around Benny, who in turn wrapped an arm around her. They stood there in a hug, exchanging words and a laugh. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight. They looked too comfortable. Which told you they were close. Probably very close.

When they pulled a part, with a laugh, the woman held Benny's chin. She continued to speak to him. Her other hand holding onto his vest, drawing him close. It was all too intimate to be just meeting or acquaintances. Feeling like you were the intruder, you took a step back, then another before finally turning from the scene all together. You weren’t going to be the fool, walking up and interrupting them.

With every step from them you felt a hit to your heart and confidence. You had thought just maybe you had finally got a chance at something you had wished for. But of course he already had someone. Kathy was beautiful, confident and fit in perfectly. Unlike you, who was plain Jane, shy and stuck out like a sore thumb. Benny needed a woman, not a child. Kathy screamed woman, while you laughed child.

Looks like Benny has a girl, that voice in the back of your head taunted. How silly you are to think you stood a chance...you were just something to pass the time or a joke...

Your face warmed from stupidity and embarrassment, vision blurring with hot tears rising. And soon one fell, then another, until you quietly cried. Just adding to your childish, you’d thought. Knowing it would take some time for the tears to slow and subside, you forego taking the bus home. Instead opting to walk home. Taking the time to let the reality of your stupidity set in, learning from your naive notions. It was a bitter pill to swallow. You hoped by the time you got home your parents were in bed, and you could just slip in without being seen.

You should never get your hopes up~ That voice said in a sing-song tone. And for once, you agreed with it.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #the bikeriders x reader #austin butler x reader #benny the bikeriders

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dear-ao3 · 2 months ago

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hi. you did not ask for it but i feel inclined to share with you some bits and pieces of indycar lore.

-georgina. georgina is a mannequin that hangs on a bridge at barber motorsports park, one of the tracks we race at, during the 2024 race there she fell down in the middle of the race and onto the track, a driver ran her wrist over and shredded it, the safety team loaded her up into the back of their truck, and later the driver who hit her (scott mclaughlin) posted a photo of him holding her hand up.

-will power ‘double birds’. it’s self explanatory, will power is a menace in the purest form of the word, and he is NOT afraid to flip off fellow drivers or, most famously, race control.

-the firestone firehawk, aka murderhawk. highly loved by fans and drivers, the mascot for firestone tires (which is what indycar uses) who is always at indycar races, frequently seen looming ominously around whoever they can get their hands on, hence the nickname murderhawk.

-bus bros. cannot even begin to explain the depths of lore here but im sure someone would be happy to. once a youtube series and friendship between drivers and teammates scott mclaughlin and josef newgarden (highly recommend watching the videos, very funny) it ended rather abruptly after rumors about their demise had been circulating, teammates who once hugged after every race win won’t even sit beside each other anymore.

-the AMR safety team. that’s all. they are amazing and we love them, SO fast and incredible, if nobody got me ik the AMR safety team got me!

-santino ferrucci. we all hate the guy, hes an absolute asshole, homophobic, racist, etc. most recently he put hands on a driver and then called said driver’s teammate his ‘little boyfriend teammate’. there’s a video of it on indycar’s youtube channel called ‘tempers flare between santino ferrucci and kyle kirkwood’ if you’re curious.

-arrow mclaren curse. this team is just… something.. their drivers have good personalities, but oh my! is the team itself horrifying! and this year we had 4(?) 5(?) drivers that all had the same seat! obviously at different times but it was Scary.

-we all love the month of may. the indy 500 is held in may, which brings a whole month of celebration and racing, from the indy gp, to parades to practice to qualifying to so many other events to the 500 itself, it’s an amazing month full of so much energy i cannot even begin to describe.

-bus lot pranks. speaking of the indy 500, during may, the drivers live in a bus lot at IMS, in their fancy RV’s, it’s like a frat house, which obviously leads to pranks, my personal favorite is when they filled conor daly’s hot tub with orbeez.

-it’s also important to note that indycar is small, the community is small, the drivers frequently interact with fans both in person and online, which is great! but it also means watch what you say because there’s a very high chance a driver will see it, our series is welcoming and non toxic! we want to keep it that way.

-david’s bike. david malukas signed for arrow mclaren, but never actually got to race for them because he broke his wrist biking. he frequently makes jokes about it as he is very chronically online. he is also dubbed lil dave, that has nothing to do with his bike i just thought it was important.

-the milk gimp.. an absolutely terrifying indy 500 ad from 2014.

-the hate cauldron. back in 2022 three andretti drivers all made contact with each other during a race, which led to chaos, thus the birth of the hate cauldron, theres a video of it on here somewhere, and also when it was reborn this year!

doesn’t even scratch the surface, i’m just running out of brain power here, also a team got raided by the fbi this year.

oh and indycar’s youtube channel has tons of full races posted, they’re currently uploading the ones from this year, i recommend watching the 2016 indy 500, and i’m sure people would be happy to share their fav races to watch !!

by george. thats a lot of fun facts. thank you very very much send as many as u want (again pointing you to @ainti-pretty to send any and all fun facts)🫶💞 particularly enraptured by the bike saga (is david...still in indycar? did he just get launched off the face of the earth except to meme on twitter?) and the bus bros drama. seems bonkers. also to clarify your social media point.........do you mean on like twitter/instagram. or have they infiltrated tumblr. thank u bestie 🫶💞

#from katya #not a tag

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slutforth · 7 months ago

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2005!BILL KAULITZ X GN!READER

cw: none!! a little bit of a sad Bill but nothing intense (just fluff)

a/n: Hii guys, my first fic here on tumblr. Please give constructive criticism, but don't just be plain rude :) Also, send reqs!!

"Y/N..."

Bill said wearily, gripping onto your hand as you walked through the school corridors. You knew he hated this. The crowds that tried to follow you guys.

Luckily, you had a few security guards around you all, so the girls weren't grabbing at us, but that didn't help the screams and shouting that the girls behind you were making.

"Come on.." You mumbled to the rest of the band, quickly making your way to the bus so everyone could get rid of the crazy fan girls from school.

Although you loved being "Tokio Hotel" with the 4 other boys, sometimes it could be really tiring, and that was clear on everyone's faces when everyone slumped down into the cushioned seats of the little van.

You were in the middle seat, squished between Gustav and Bill, while Tom and Georg sat in the back, giggling and sharing sweets.

Today, you were all going to Bill and Tom's after school since they had the most space and best equipment, and usually, everyone would be excited about it, especially Bill.

However, as you listened to music through your wired earbuds, you glanced over and noticed Bill just sitting there quietly. No music, no talking... he was just staring out the window.

Your brows furrowed in both concern and confusion at his behaviour. He was never like this, and you couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the fans and fame.

Whatever it was, you weren't going to allow him to be sad and just zone out about it, so you tapped his shoulder, offering one of your earbuds to him.

"Wanna share?"

He looked over, quietly studying your features for a few minutes before weakly smiling and accepting the gesture. He leaned his head on your shoulder, silently thanking you for the comfort and distraction thay you were giving him.

Truth was, he was really caught up in his own thoughts. About everything. Whether that be from the band to whatever he had for breakfast, he had recently started over analysing every little thing and it was taking a toll on him.

He was always grateful for you, though. You always managed to make him feel better, even if you didn't realise it.

As the driver slowly came to a stop outside of the Twins' house, everyone got out the mini van and quickly went inside, but Bill just trailed behind.

You quickly realised this and walked slowly to catch up to him. You didn't mind staying back, as long as Bill wasn't moping around and subconsciously excluding himself. You held his hand, pulling him inside with a small smirk as you heard him giggle quietly.

Tom had already got a bag of Skittles, which Georg and Gustav were trying to fight him for, which brought a dumb girn to your face, watching the way the 3 boys fought stupidly.

You and Bill went and sat in the little 'music studio' the twins' mom had set up for you guys, where in reality it was just their garage with your instruments in.

When you and Bill sat down on the soft cushions of the couch, you looked over to him, again noticing his slightly distant expression. And seeing as none of the boys were around, you decided to check up on him.

"Hey, uh.. are you okay? You seem a bit.. I don't know.. off?" You said cautiously, making sure not too offended him if he was defensive about his emotions.

"Mm... yeah, yeah, it's fine, I'm just tired, so I keep overthinking stuff.." He said softly, looking at you as he spoke. Sometimes, he needed help, even if he didn't want it, but you always seemed to know how to help.

You gave him a sympathetic look. You knew how he got in his head sometimes, so you gently pulled him close. He took you by surprise when he pushed you down slightly onto the couch, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You immediately started to play with his hair, twirling the short black strands around your fingers. You always loved to play with his hair, just loving the texture and the way it felt under your hands.

Bill relaxed against you as you messed with his hair. He always found it so comforting when you did that. The poor boy really really loved it.

So much so that he slowly started to fall asleep, his head still on your stomach as he relaxed more and more. The sensations of his hair being played with and the warmth of your body lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

"I guess practice is going to be delayed..."

#bill kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz smut #georg listing #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #gustav schäfer

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crguang · 3 months ago

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imagine in kafka violinist AU, reader works in a classical music record store or maybe even an instrument store and kafka decides to check out the place and they meet after so long ☹️☹️

[ ok, i'm imagining it. this has no right being over 3,5k words but i swear sev and i do think of cute scenarios with them... sometimes. ]

“now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can't face, memories are something even smoking weed does not replace.”

She’s sixteen again, boredly waiting around with the back of her head against your locker and a biology textbook nestled in her arms. People walk by her impatient gaze holding hands firmly, complaining loudly so everyone shares their annoyance, half-asleep as they drag their feet across the school hallways, and she watches them pass her by in silent judgment. They are all so uninteresting, so mundanely boring, and her eyes soon grow hazy following the shift in her thoughts while she waits. She remembers the movie tickets she still has to buy behind your back before Friday, then tells herself she will have time to take the bus to the movie theater on Wednesday after class when neither of you have music practice. She knows you dislike horror movies, but she finds them funny and she really wants to see this one. You’ll refuse when she asks you to come with, then begrudgingly take her hand when she produces the tickets from her backpack because you feel guilty about her already spending money on an outing for the two of you. She forgot the leather gloves she loves so much this morning, too hurried to make sure they were indeed put in her coat yesterday evening, so she’ll ask for one of yours before heading to the bus stop. Despite it only being minutes away, you’ll absentmindedly throw it her way. She smiles to herself. Her head lowers and she takes a quick glance at the thin watch around her wrist: ten minutes until the final bell. You’re late. With a disgruntled noise at the back of her throat, she straightens up and adjusts the strap over her shoulder. She won’t stain her perfect attendance record because you missed your 7 AM alarm, she’ll demand explanations at lunch and enjoy how you avert your eyes from hers in embarrassment.

You’re not sitting at the back of classroom 311B waiting for her with your lunch on your lap, and her lips curve downward into a displeased pout. You didn’t show today, then. She wonders if you got sick between last Friday and now and makes a mental note to come knocking on your door after practice, if only to make sure you’re still alive even if you’re moaning in misery. She drops her backpack on a chair, plopping down at a nearby desk. Her AP Maths homework is laid out on the surface and she spends the free hour getting ahead in her classes within the quiet room, her cheek lazily resting on her palm.

As her literature teacher expands on the use of literary devices in creative writing, she thinks she might bring something to your house later. You were weird Friday and you’re missing practice, she’s now sure you’re feeling unwell. Peach gummies should do it, maybe, you’re so easy to please. You still have that shitty drawing the both of you made together when you were eight plastered beside the album posters on your wall. She hates looking at it every time she comes over but you threaten to have it framed, so she rolls her eyes and ignores the glaring reminder of her attachment staring down at her mockingly.

Kafka blinks rapidly and her vision instantly focuses on the fading tendrils of cigarette smoke swimming in the air in front of her. The roll is secure between her index and middle fingers, pointing towards the open back window of her sleek black car. She regains her bearings. Her gaze darts to the driver’s seat where Blade’s head leans back on the headrest, eyes closed and arms crossed as he awaits new instructions. Her lips stretch into a small smile at her ridiculous train of thought and she looks outside the window, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth. There’s nothing to see, only passersby and concrete buildings, the front doors of multiple stores aligned on the narrow street. She takes a slow drag and allows the tobacco smoke to sit on her tongue before exhaling softly. She calls it reminiscing during a moment’s reprieve, but that would require the act to be voluntary and peaceful. It’s happening more frequently recently, her mind escapes her for a few minutes as she smokes and it’s starting to defeat the purpose of her cigarette breaks. This weight you hold, impossible to forget, is now slowing her down instead of feeding her ambitions, and anything that is not actively serving her is unnecessary. These memories are unnecessary. They’re pathetic, the same moments rotate through her mind in a broken loop she’s unable to pull the plug on, yet so undeniably haunting. The lack of control over her own thoughts irritates her to no end, her fingers are tight around her violin’s neck, her right arm stiff and reminiscent of the first time she held one in her hands. Another breath past her lips and she makes up her mind.

Kafka puts out her cigarette on the ashtray resting on the cupholder to her left. She reaches for a pocket mirror in her handbag and flips it open, observing the makeup on her features. Her lipstick has faded a little in the middle of her bottom lip, so she reapplies it carefully. It’s an alluring peach color, her favorite. She smacks her lips and smiles to herself as if to make sure there isn’t a crack in her impenetrable facade, then puts the mirror back where it was initially and sprays her signature perfume over her pulse points. Kafka shakes her head, carefully brushing the dark magenta strands of her bangs away from her cheeks. She sits in the car for another moment, bracing herself, then unlocks the back door.

“Be back in a few, Bladie.”

The driver doesn’t flinch when the car door shuts firmly behind her. Kafka lowers her prized sunglasses over her eyes. The car is parked a couple of minutes from the vintage record store she’s heard mentions of prior to traveling to Europe for performances, the street is better explored by foot and having her vehicle positioned directly in front of the store while she pondered things would have attracted unnecessary attention. She strolls down the decorated street and its colored asphalt the way she had almost three weeks ago, taking in the local shops and restaurants. Though it’s the middle of the day, only a little past one in the afternoon, the place isn’t as crowded as it usually is when she drives by (twice a week, for three weeks now.) She checks out the window apparel of two clothing stores then decides to step inside another time. She makes it to the record store a minute later and stands in front of the large window offering a glimpse of its interior, an index finger rhythmically drumming against her thigh. It’s empty, save for a blonde woman with a purple streak dyed into her hair that she’s seen work the floor before. Kafka checks the small watch around her wrist. It’s around the same time she passes by on her way to practice. She pushes the door open and steps inside.

A small bell rings out, announcing her presence, and the blonde worker doesn’t even look up from the thick textbook laid on the register counter. She scribbles away, brows furrowed in concentration. Kafka ignores her in turn. Her fingertips trail on packaged vinyls as she makes her way to the jazz section of the store, taking note of the relative stillness of the space with only low radio music to fill the silence. Her heeled boots clack along the ceramic floor with every leisure step. She’s waiting, pausing in front of a particular record and turning it over in her hands, aware of the other person in the room. She listens deeply while she pretends to read the cover and the perpetual easy smile on her lips widens infinitesimally at the sound of cardboard boxes getting ripped open in the backroom behind the register. She glances at her gloved hands. Steady as always.

“Holy fu—!” The blonde worker exclaims in surprise then quickly collects herself enough not to swear, clearing her throat once.

Kafka’s disinterested gaze lands on her. She closes her textbook with a thud and leaves her post at the cash register to stand in front of her in record time, a gleam in her eyes and a grin on her face like she just won the lottery.

“Are you Kafka? The violinist?” Her voice lowers conspiratorially and she slightly leans forward in excitement.

Kafka tilts her head to the side in amusement. “I might be.”

The woman takes a breath and claps her hands together over her lips in a praying gesture. “You have no idea how much you just brightened my day, Kafka. Can I have a picture, if it’s not too weird? My phone’s in the backroom, I can go get it. It’ll be super quick.”

She’s promptly walking away before the other can reply, a bounce in her step. Kafka follows her figure until it disappears past the door. She turns back to the record in her hands, then puts it back on the shelf to continue browsing the aisle. She’s not looking for anything in particular but if she does leave the store with a few more records under her arms, she won’t complain.

“They asked for me personally?”

“Yep! Go, go, I’ll take care of this batch.”

Her ears pick up on the conversation happening in the backroom, the voices getting louder as they approach the front of the store, and her next exhale is audible despite herself; yours still sounds the same. She reminds herself that she already smoked ten minutes ago.

“But who are they?”

“I don’t know, a customer. Just go!”

“Fine, jeez…”

Kafka lifts her gaze to the backroom door the moment it’s pushed open and instantly meets yours. She’s taken by the sudden sunlight in the room, all of it on your features; softly tracing the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips, resting over your cheek like a warm palm, sun rays kiss half of you and hold you close in a way she’s no longer sure she remembers the feel of. If she could tear her eyes away, she would notice the afternoon sun reflected on every surface of the store, a detail previously overlooked. There are bags under your eyes and something so small grows into a striking detail because this is her first time seeing them on you. Your hair is put away from your face today, different than it was last week when Blade drove past the place, every line and shadow is presented for her viewing pleasure and she drinks them in during a suspended instant. You’re older. That fact shouldn’t surprise her, she feels ridiculous. Her hands are immobile in the air, two vinyls between them brought up for comparison, and her mouth unknowingly twitches downward, about a hundred words she refuses to say push each other to be the first out of her lips, but she keeps it tightly shut. Your eyes widen the next second— for someone who always closely keeps track of time, she doesn’t know how much has passed since your eyes first met— and Kafka’s lower to your bobbing throat. Your hand goes to your rapidly rising chest and you turn your back on her as if frightened.

“S-Serval, are you sure you don’t need help?” The tremor in your sentence and your averted gaze pulls Kafka out of her thoughts. She almost rolls her eyes at your lame attempt to run from her. Again.

“I’m sure! Everything’s good here!”

You lean forward and try to regain control over your breathing for a few seconds, shoulders tense, before you slowly turn on your heel to face her once more. Guilt. She recognizes it easily, it’s laced in the curve of your brows and your colored irises. You swallow another time, your hands limp at your sides, and look at her helplessly. Out of the kindness of her heart and against her petty wish for you to keep that haunted look on your face, Kafka helps you out.

“…I’m hesitating between these.” She holds up the records in her hands.

You blink. It takes you another moment of silence to register her words, and when you do, you reluctantly begin to make your way to her. Your steps are short and slow like you’re walking to the gallows, Kafka can’t help the bitter amusement in her smile. She feels a strange sort of vindication from your behavior, her past hesitation now forgotten. She watches you get closer through the filter of her sunglasses. You stand next to her a polite distance away and glance at the vinyls she’s holding.

“…What are you looking for?” You avoid her gaze and take the records she hands you, instead reading over the album titles and songs.

Kafka doesn’t look away from you. “Something… relaxing. Slow tempo, the kind you sway to.”

You put the records back on the shelf and reach for another, presenting it to her. “This musician’s good.”

“Mmm. You listened to it?”

“Not this album, but some of his other songs. His music always has the same theme to it, it might be the vibe you’re searching for.”

“What theme is that?”

She knows what it is, she already has a copy of that record at home. It’s a childish delight to witness your reluctance to answer, but she doesn’t care.

“Regret.”

Kafka lets the following pause stretch longer than necessary. She finally tears her eyes from your form to continue browsing the shelves, fingertips trailing over the numerous records neatly stacked one next to the other. She walks some steps away from you as she skims the artists’ names and tilts her head your way when you hold up a different album for her to decide on. She makes a show of pondering about it before asking for another option. She does this for a while, finds a reason to criticize every record you present to her and observes the rapidly deepening frown on your lips. It’s stupid, she thinks fleetingly, how easily you turn back into a child in her mind. You made that face whenever you missed a note in the middle of practice, too. You lifted your eyes in exasperation just like this after another one of her lame jokes, too. You often fiddled with the beads necklace on your collarbone back then as well. Kafka looks away. It's a silver dog tag now.

“What about this one?” Your tone is slightly more clipped than it was five minutes ago. She ignores it. “It’s a collection of ballads–- older New Orleans swing, soulful, soft. I’d say it’s what you’d like to listen to based on all of your critiques. You’d sway to that, right?”

Kafka takes the record and carefully looks it over. It’s a good suggestion and most of the songs on there are so far personally unheard of, on any other day she actually would have bought it. She puts it back on the shelf where you found it, then faces you.

“Maybe a decade ago. I might be in the mood for something more Romantic, actually.”

You pause, a little taken aback. Your thumb and index fingers take hold of the tag around your neck. “Uh… okay. I’d consider those ballads romantic, though.”

Kafka chuckles quietly. “The era.”

“…Right.” You turn away from her in embarrassment. “That’s another section, then.”

“Lead the way.”

Since she’s the only customer in the store at present, you can’t escape from repeating the same frustrating pattern as before: you suggest a record, it is “not quite what Kafka is looking for”, and she follows that comment with passive aggressivity so subtle that you would have been fooled by her harmless smile if you didn’t already know what she was referring to. Kafka can see your growing exasperation but you have different tells now, it’s all in the purse of your lips and the curl of your fingers at your side. The way you speak, your eloquence when expressing yourself and describing music and the knowledge you bring to the table allows her to fill in some of the blanks washed out by time and space. You’re becoming irritated and she is learning you through it. You work in a record store, you don’t question any of the musical terms she employs and you clearly know what you’re talking about when recommending diverse pieces to her. You haven’t given up on the medium, then. Kafka pushes her relief aside.

“What is it that you’re looking for in particular?” You ask, aggravated after yet another shot down from her and crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a crease between your brows but she notices your shoulders have relaxed significantly since you started conversing.

Kafka doesn’t even have to think about that one. “Violin sonatas.”

She’s not looking at you, pretending to read over the back of a record, but she can almost hear the grinding of your teeth as yet another moment of silence is filled by the pop music over the radio speakers. Though she can’t help the bitterness growing around her organs like mold, neither of you actually acknowledge knowing each other before this afternoon. What is left unsaid spreads to every corner of the store, suffocating fumes charged with your guilt and her hurt, and you both stand in the middle of it, stubbornly breathing in the toxic air.

If anything, Kafka commends your efforts in attempting to maintain your composure. Your chest falls with a soft exhale and you return to the shelves, browsing the selection with her preferences in mind. She glances at her watch. She has a commitment in an hour, she didn’t think this would take as long as it had. She briefly remembers Blade waiting around in the car, probably dozing off behind the wheel until she returns.

“Here,” you speak and her head lifts to look at the vinyl you’re handing her. “It’s a miscellaneous collection. If there’s an exact sound that you want, it’s likely there.”

“I already have this one.” A white lie. Kafka doesn’t take the record, instead raises her eyes to yours. “I thought maybe this store would have something out of the ordinary, given its local reputation.” Her gaze boredly sweeps over the empty store before settling on you again. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Enough,” you’ve finally had enough of her implications, she watches you put your foot down with rapt attention. “What do you want me to do, record my own shitty playing before you’re satisfied?”

Shitty? She almost scoffs, personally offended. The missing key to her art, shitty?

“Maybe. Would you run from that as well?”

Your features first twist in shock at her dry reply, then twitch involuntarily as you try to mask the hurt that laces the natural curve of your bottom lip. You blink, averting your eyes the way you so often do now, and Kafka pauses at your reaction, almost daring you to contradict her. Another awkwardly charged silence falls upon you both. You seem to have many of those. She’s tempted to break it with a nonchalant remark, but the words freeze on her tongue at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and trembling lips. She stands and stares as you bring a hand to your face, uselessly attempting to reign in the emotion drawn across the lines of it. By the looks of it, you try very hard but are ultimately unable to stop your throat from bobbing with every difficult swallow and your lashes from fluttering to keep the sting of your eyes at bay. You’re suddenly taken with emotion, and Kafka stares in disbelief concealed as apathy. You briskly walk past her and make a beeline for the register counter, using its surface to support your hands and turning your back on her again. The distance could not be clearer, this time dug by her own hands. She hears your shuddering breaths, watches the growing tension in your back and shoulder muscles, and a sensation she does not recognize stops her from uttering anything. You look small, you sound weak, and it goes against every thought she's had of you for the past decade. It goes against the space you occupy in her mind--- unrelenting, expansive, insisting. You are not the teenager she sees when she looks at you nor the quiet child she thinks of when she's had too much to drink, you are simply a crying stranger she has no right to unravel, and yet she finds it difficult to look away.

Kafka is uncomfortable, rooted where she stands, and for once at a loss of what to do. She's relieved from doing anything as the blonde worker from earlier, Serval, stalks into the room with a frown bending her lips. There's no trace of her previous excitement, she immediately rounds the register to place herself next to you and rests a kind hand on your back, murmuring concerned inquiries that you can only shake your head to. Serval faces Kafka with a perfected customer service smile, all past pretenses gone.

"You should go, I'm sure a bigshot like you has more important things to do in a day than linger here."

Kafka smiles. "I do." She adjusts the silk gloves over her hands and spares a last glance at your back. She reaches into one of her coat pockets, steps closer to the register, and slides a sleek card with a minimalist design toward you with two fingers. "If you want to put your shitty playing to use."

The entry bell rings out as Kafka walks out of the record store.

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr x reader #violinist au

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grogwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Stranger - O.P. 81

Part Three - Final Part

part one • part two • part three

Summary: When someone returns to Oscar’s life after years apart, he has a hard time finding common ground with her to reconcile the feud between them. That is, until she signs on as a driver for the upcoming F1 season. Then he can’t seem to get her out of his mind.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC

CW: Dual POV series. Please take my warnings seriously before continuing on. This series is not for everyone, as consistent depictions of mental health struggles are conveyed in the writing, primarily PTSD and loss of a loved one. angst (shocker), swearing, depictions of PTSD, mentions of death and car crashes, crying/anxiety attacks, Lando’s a twat at first, slight suggestive content, some making out, FINALLY SOME FLUFF (only took us three parts to get there, right gang?)

A/N: THE FINAL PART! 🥹🩵 thank you all for the love you’ve shown to Claire and Oscar. I may do a little epilogue part if it has enough interest shown towards it. I’ve loved writing this, though, and I hope you all have loved it as well 🫶🏻

Word Count: 3.5k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

She didn’t necessarily remember how the argument started, but she was surprised how quickly things escalated. Fire and ice. Claire absolutely hated how Oscar clocked her shit like that. Then again, he always seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

She stared back at Lando—the image was like a stand off: the two of them on either side of his living room, trying to think of the next word or phrase to leave their mouths. Her dad’s voice was echoing through her head as she tried to calm herself down before her anger managed to boil over. Breathe, Claire. Breathe.

“You used me,” He finally accused, taking a few steps closer. His voice was quiet, calculated. She countered his movement by backing herself into the wall, distancing herself from him.

“We used each other,” she barked in response. “You know we did. We agreed to keep things surface level, so you can’t come at me and—“

“No, because I can,” he dug his phone out of his pocket, before flashing her a text conversation between himself and Edith. So much for being friends. Claire was about at the point of shutting everyone out again, just like she did in Seoul. She could almost laugh at how Edith was so quick to backstab her in such a manner. Claire had done nothing but stick up for her, and here she was now: throwing Claire under the bus for the opportunity to suck Lando’s dick. “She said you research your competition—you find their weakness so you can try to drag them down.”

“I do,” Claire retorted as she quickly met his gaze. It was slightly a lie, but she was too pissed at him to try and correct the accusation. Her chest was burning up with anger. “It’s a damn good strategy, too. I do what I can to win.”

“You haven’t even started in F1 yet,” Lando scoffed as he put his phone away. “What do you know about winning?”

Lando was talking about racing, she knew that. But yet…his words seemed to cut deeper inside of her—winning. She felt her shoulders slump. Sure, she was one hell of a race car driver, but in other aspects of her life, she failed. She failed with Oscar…she failed with keeping her dad alive…she failed with maintaining relationships, platonic or romantic. And now here she was, failing at her own fucking strategy that has helped her win over the course of her life. She wasn’t a winner—she was quite the opposite. But racing? That was the only thing she seemed to get right—the only thing she was confident in…or used to be, anyways. Driving used to be muscle memory to her. Her dad made her into a machine on the track, so she was going to make sure she did anything to continue to make him proud—to try and erase what happened the day they got into the crash.

It was all why she started looking into the weaknesses of her competition, anyways—why she made it her go-to racing strategy. One mistake, and things could turn fatal. If she could pinpoint someone’s flaw on track and avoid it at all costs, then she would be safe. She didn’t notice the other driver hydroplaning when she crashed into them…when she ultimately killed her dad. She met Lando’s gaze again as the fire in her chest continued to scorch and disintegrate any possible bit of calm she had left.

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” she sneered at the Brit, gritting her teeth as she spoke. She took a few steps closer to him, gaining her confidence again with each step. “You choke under pressure. You lack confidence in your driving. Just because you’ve won a race, doesn’t mean you know anything about winning, either.” Lando’s next words drove the pre-existing stake in her heart in even deeper.

“Go to hell.”

She pushed past him, leaving his apartment before anymore words could be spewed between them. She knew her decision to sleep with him was reckless, and all she’s done since leaving Melbourne was seemingly ruin her own life. The tears ran rapidly down her face as she fumbled with her keys to get into her apartment. She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at Lando as much as she wanted to, because she was the one who brought this onto herself. As Claire shut her front door, she pressed her back to it and slid down to the floor.

The feeling was overwhelming—like everything was crashing into her at once: all the way back from when her dad died, leading up until now. Every decision she had ever made, every bridge she had burned to get to where she was…and for the first time in a long time, she felt regret. She regretted the life she built for herself, and she regretted the person she turned herself into. Claire regretted pushing Oscar away, moving to Monaco, sleeping with Lando…everything was a deep rooted seed of regret. She had spent all these years building a guard around her heart, when it only seemed to make everything worse than it already was.

The only person she wanted to talk to right now was Oscar, but she wasn’t sure if they were in that threshold again in their relationship. The reconciliation at the club the other night was definitely a stepping stone, but hardly a big enough step to validate visiting him at three in the morning. Would he push her away? Would he even answer his door? Claire was wagering to guess that he might be mad—he used to be a bit of a grouch when they were kids if someone woke him up. On the other hand, however, circumstances have changed between them. For better or for worse, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Claire played with the hem of her t-shirt as she gambled with the idea of going to see him. Her tears had slowed, and her demeanor was calmer. If she had any shot of regaining control of her life and mending the mistakes she made, then there couldn’t be any harm in trying to see him—she had to at least try. She inhaled deeply before pushing herself to her feet, and leaving her apartment once more.

Claire was the last person Oscar was expecting at his door this late at night. It was a miracle he even woke up when she knocked, but perhaps the universe was working overtime at bringing their lives back together. Ever since he saw her at the club two nights ago, he’s felt…strange. He couldn’t decide if he was excited to potentially have her back, or weary. As he looked back at her now, he noticed how red her eyes were…how puffy her cheeks were.

“You answered,” she observed, equally as surprised as Oscar felt. He smiled sleepily towards her, then leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“Don’t be,” he responded groggily. “Is everything okay?” Her arms were around him in a matter of seconds, further catching him off guard. When he felt her sporadic breathing against his chest, he realized she was definitely not okay. He wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close. He closed his eyes as she nuzzled her face into his chest. His chin rested on the top of her head, as he sat in silence, letting her work through whatever had just happened.

“Lando and I ended things,” she managed to say between sobs.

Oscar wasn’t exactly expecting the news to hit him as hard as it did. Was he…happy? He felt a bit like an ass at feeling relieved when she said it—he cared about Claire and Lando both so much. But this was Claire—his Claire. He pulled away from the embrace, then used his hands to wipe away her tears.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You want to come in?” Claire nodded lazily, and Oscar wasted no time helping her into the small confines of his apartment.

He was silently grateful he cleaned today. He hung up a few family photos around the place, trying to decorate it more so it felt more like a home. Oscar enjoyed feeling comfortable in his environment, and now that he was living away from Melbourne, he wanted the place to feel as warm and welcoming as possible. He watched Claire take in everything, when her eyes landed on one picture in particular: the first Piastri Christmas that her and Simon came to.

“Oh my god,” her voice was barely a whisper. She brought her hand up to the photo, slowly tracing the image as if to instill it into her memory. Oscar’s heart ached for her. Claire had told him at the club how broken she felt, but now was the first time he could really see it. She didn’t look well. Her already fair skin was even more pale than usual, and her eyes were void of any kind of life. “Things were so…different.” She looked back at him with a hint of a smile playing on her somber expression. Oscar smiled softly in return, making his way over to her.

“I never threw away any pictures,” he admitted sheepishly as he faced the photo with her. He chuckled softly at the sight of her puffy, red Christmas dress she wore in it. They were holding the remote control cars, each grinning ear to ear. Things were so simple back then. “I still have the cars, you know.” He heard a small gasp from Claire before he turned his attention down to her. She looked up at him in return.

“No way,” she responded. “God, those were so fun.” Oscar shifted his weight slightly, feeling his curiosity get the better of him. He wondered what happened between her and Lando—just a few days ago, Lando was talking about how well things were going.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “Do you…want to talk about what happened?”

“With Lando?” She asked. He nodded. He watched as she drew in a deep breath, thinking of what to say. “Um, Oscar, I haven’t become the best person since I moved. I want to start by saying that—“

“I don’t care,” Oscar quickly interjected, trying to reassure her. “I can promise you, nothing you say will make me hate you again. You can’t get rid of me again that easily.”

“I was using Lando,” she stated simply. “After the accident I, um, developed this sort of plan…I wanted to know every other driver’s flaw or weakness while they drove so that—“

“—you could anticipate it before it happened?” Oscar finished for her, now picking up on where she was leading with this. She had talked about the accident only briefly with him, but he didn’t know much detail. He didn’t need to, really, to put the pieces together.

She was driving the car the day they crashed. Someone driving in the lane next to them hydroplaned on the water in the road, and crashed into them—killing Simon on impact. He knew Claire well enough to know that she started implementing this ‘plan’ because she blamed herself for the accident—she probably was trying to avoid any other potential accident as to if try and reverse what happened that day. But that was the fucked up thing in life—you couldn’t change the past.

“I knew Lando was self conscious,” she continued, clearly shifting uncomfortably under Oscar’s gaze. “I figured if I slept with him, I could find how, exactly, that interfered with his driving. He chokes under pressure…he tends to bomb his race starts if he is near the front of the grid. He lacks confidence.” Oscar couldn’t help but raise his eyes in surprise at how much she knew about Lando. It was spot on, too.

“Claire,” he started gently, “the accident wasn’t your fault.”

“It could’ve been prevented if I noticed the guy swerving,” she argued, as if she could change Oscar’s mind. He knew she was trying to paint herself as a villain, but he saw her as anything but. He just saw her for what she was—broken.

“You wouldn’t have noticed him, Bear,” he whispered as he took both of her hands in his. “The rain was coming down too fast and too hard. It made it hard to see anything in those conditions.” He knew she heard truth in his words as she shifted her weight, leaning towards him ever so slightly. Her head bowed, as she looked down at her feet.

“I miss him so much, Osc.”

He missed Simon, too. More than words could ever express. Hearing the exhausted desperation in her voice could’ve been equivalent to getting punched, Oscar thought.

“I miss him, too,” he used one of his hands to lightly grab her chin, and guide her to look at him again. Her eyes were misty, still. “Bear, you can’t change the past. You can’t continue to worry about the things out of your control. The most you can do is look towards the future—and how proud Simon would be to see you racing in Formula 1.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting her to kiss him, but when her lips collided against his, he was quick to melt into her touch. He could feel her tears as they rolled off of her cheeks, and on to his hand. It felt like fireworks in his stomach, as a warm, low buzz echoed through this body. Claire. He was kissing Claire. A small hum sounded in his throat, as he instinctively pulled her closer to him—his hands landing on her waist. She grabbed ahold of his t-shirt, sending a swarm of butterflies through his chest.

Oscar swiftly lifted her, as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso. Both of them refused to break the kiss, as he stumbled his way through the living area before laying her on the couch. With each breath of air, the kiss deepened as though they were trying to make up for lost time. Oscar’s hands eagerly wandered her body, trying helplessly to memorize every curve. His mind whispered her name repeatedly like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. Claire. His Claire. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned softly against his lips. It was enough for his legs to give out under him. She was intoxicating—she was addictive. He never wanted to let her go—he couldn’t make that mistake again.

“I love you,” she whispered into the kiss. Oscar pulled away momentarily, allowing the depth of the words to fall between them. As he stared down at her, all twelve years of their relationship seemed to flood over him. Love. His heart swelled as the word—the feeling—dripped upon him like a profound epiphany.

“I love you, too,” he finally said. “I love you so much, Bear.”

7 MONTHS LATER - Melbourne, Australia

Stolen glances were what Oscar thrived on. Each time he caught Claire staring at him in the paddock, he swore his breath caught in his throat. They’d each smile, maybe laugh a little, then continue on with their commitments. He felt like a damn teenager again; it was pathetic. After the summer break ended, they had made it a point to text and call constantly. But being here—the first race of the season—it felt…different. Lando, however, seemingly caught on quickly to their behavior. Unbeknownst to Oscar, he had been watching them intently since Claire and him ended things. Oscar tried to care; he really did. But all Oscar could think about was the next time he got to hold her—the next time he got to kiss her.

“Claire is a better driver than I thought,” Lando grumbled in the McLaren trailer after Qualifying finished. Claire managed to take the shitty Alpine car to an impressive finish in P5. Oscar could hardly control the smile on his face when he found out. Right now, though, he was biting the insides of his cheeks. He didn’t want to piss Lando off even more—especially considering he finished below Claire.

“Yeah, she’s decent,” he managed. Oscar shook his helmet hair out, then ran a hand through it. “Tomorrow should be an interesting first race.”

Lando was quiet, presumably thinking about what to say to Oscar next. It had been like this since the weekend started, and Oscar knew it was because of Claire. He knew they needed to hash it out, but neither of them really knew where to start with the conversation. Lando had begun suspecting that they already knew each other since that first day in Monaco, so when their late night rendezvous officially ended and Oscar began taking more suspicious phone calls, it basically confirmed it for him.

“Oscar?” The Brit turned, leaning against the table that they were standing next to. “We’re, um…we’re friends, yeah?” Oscar glanced at Lando to find him staring back at him intently.

“Yeah, of course,” Oscar reassured him quickly. He wanted to be honest with Lando, but he just hadn’t found the right opportunity to bring it up yet. If he could clear the air, he’d feel so much better. He didn’t like lying, especially to people he cared about. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, um,” Lando sighed. “Is there something going on between you and Claire? Like, romantically?”

“Yes,” Oscar wasted no time. He wanted the tension between them to leave, so he didn’t think beating around the bush would serve either of them any good. “Um, it kind of started unexpectedly. I just didn’t know how to tell you—“

“She’s using you,” Lando quickly interrupted. “She does that, mate. Her friend told me that she researched her competition and—“

“I know,” Oscar now cut Lando off, not wanting to hear him talk about it. It was a complicated situation that Lando didn’t understand, and didn’t need to know the details of, quite frankly. Claire’s trauma wasn’t his business to share or to hash out. “I mean, not about her using me—but I know she researches drivers.”

“You don’t care?” Lando scoffed, as a smile of pure disbelief took over his expression.

“Lando, I’ve known Claire for twelve years,” Oscar explained, keeping his tone calm as to not escalate the situation. There were still camera crews around, and he definitely didn’t need this plastered across Netflix or Sky Sports. “She…does that because of some trauma she’s got. It’s complicated—“

“So, not only are you dating my ex,” Lando’s tone was wavering on the edge of anger and pure mania, “but you lied to me about knowing her?”

“I know how that looks,” Oscar carded a hand through his hair, quickly growing flustered. He hated the attention—he hated confrontation. “But I honestly wasn’t on speaking terms with her that first day. We hated each other back then.”

“And now you’re here, excusing her actions because of some bullshit excuse—“

“Hey,” Oscar surprised himself at the sudden shortness to his voice, but he couldn’t sit here and let Lando continue to drag Claire through the mud without knowing the full story. “I’m not excusing her actions. Regardless of what she went through, she shouldn’t have done it. But you can’t diminish someone’s trauma just because you don’t know or understand what they went through.”

“Okay, so help me understand,” Lando argued, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Help me understand what exactly happened to turn her into a bitch?” Before Oscar could act on his anger, Claire’s familiar, gentle voice rang from behind the two drivers.

“My dad died.”

The two boys turned, watching as she slowly made her way over to them. She was still wearing her Alpine team kit, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Loose strands of hair hung around her face from wearing her helmet earlier that day.

“I was driving us to visit my mom’s grave,” she continued to explain. Her voice was calm, collected—it perfectly evened out Lando’s aggressive demeanor. “It was raining. The road was ponding. I didn’t see the car next to us hydroplane and swerve. It hit us, and my dad died on impact.” In Oscar’s peripheral vision, he saw Lando’s jaw clench. He knew that he felt sorry for her, but his pride wasn’t allowing him to cave and apologize. Claire extended her hand towards Lando, as if to offer an olive branch of sorts.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” she smiled weakly. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I do think you’re a rather good driver—I just wish you could see it for yourself.” Finally, Lando took her hand in his—accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled, as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry about your dad.” Claire dropped Lando’s hand, then shrugged.

“It’s in the past,” her gaze flickered to Oscar, causing his heart to skip a beat. “It’s time I focus on the future.”

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

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