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astayinwonderland · 4 months

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Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake? | Zhong Chenle

pairing: chenle x f.reader

genre: besties to lovers | smut +18 MDNI

summary: chenle has been away for a while and you miss your best friend-- however, everything changes when you realise you might actually love him more than a friend

wc: 2.2k

warnings: mentions and use of alcohol, anxiety, consensual sex, unprotected sex (pls no), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms-- lmk if I forgot anything

It’s 15 minutes past 11, where the fuck is he?

You already texted him twice. You called. The party had already started and your friends wondered if you would make it. Hell, you were wondering if you should just go on your own. But no– you promised you would get there together for old-time’s sake. It’s been a little over a year since Chenle moved out of the country, your days of embracing nothingness together are gone, movie nights are just nostalgic memories, and maybe some words left unspoken. You missed your best friend dearly and even though you often called each other, it was not the same. Not at all. You missed more than his company. You missed his essence, aura, sparkly eyes, smile, and touch…

Your heart suddenly ached. Were you truly in love or is it just the fact that this is the first time you will see him since he left? The thoughts that rudely invade your brain get interrupted by three loud knocks. Running to the door, you can feel the thundering beating of your heart ringing in your ears.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry…. Please don’t be upset–”

You open the door abruptly and there he is.

Zhong Chenle.

Blue 3-piece suit. His hair graciously falls over his forehead, framing his beautiful face. He gives you the brightest of smiles, your heart skips a bit.

“Don’t hate me. Come here!” he opens his arms to embrace you.

“Shut up,” you throw your arms around him, and suddenly everything is fine. Time has not passed.

His nose lowers to your head and he inhales your scent. This is home to him, he can’t believe he’s been away from you for so long. All he yearns is to keep you close, but doing so means having to accept the fact that he is irremediably in love with you.

Smoke and bright lights danced around the place and the crowd made way for you and the man of the hour apparently. Everyone reaches out to Chenle. Hugs, high fives, praises, and kisses shower him. You can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous. This was supposed to be a fun night for you and your best friend… and your other friends as well. But Chenle is loved, popular, and missed, of course, people would be all over him. You feel silly for suggesting going to the party in the first place.

You’re snapped back to reality when your body crashes into Chenle’s. His hand is possessively placed around your waist. Your audible gasp makes him laugh.

“Where did your mind go, silly?”

“Nowhere, I just wish we were somewhere else. This is not how I envisioned tonight, you know… after spending so much time apart,” you force a smile and feel his thumb caressing you softly. There was something up with him, but to your surprise, you couldn’t read him.

Chenle closes the distance between you too. He's a little too close, his breath fanning on your face. Is he going to–

“Chenle!”

Shiny hair, plump lips, white smile. Her manicured hand was already snaking its way to Chenle’s arm. She looks at you, scanning up and down as if she were trying to figure out who you are.

“Oh, hey! Wh- what are you doing here?” Chenle replies. A kiss on her cheek makes your heart sink.

Chenle’s eyes go from you to the girl and again to you. He is about to introduce you but you suddenly feel like your heart is going to burst out your chest, your palms are sweaty, your eyes getting watery and your ability to breathe fades as you try to fight the feeling.

“I really need to go. Sorry– Nice to meet you,” you say politely. You try not to cry as you make your way out. Chenle watches as you leave, but he feels how his chest tightens more and more with each step you take away from him.

After his third call, you get into the shower hoping that the pain would fade away with the hot water hitting your vulnerable skin. With tears streaming down your face and sobs that echo around your bathroom you finish your shower. You are too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, and your phone has long been forgotten in your purse.

You think you just blinked but in reality, it is a little past 3 a.m. and the faintest sound coming from your door seems to wake you up. In a panic, you rush and open the door to find a sobering Chenle by your door.

“...it was about fucking time you opened that door, silly, I’ve been knocking for hours I thought–”

You cut him off, pulling him in.

“Chenle what the fuck?”

He smiles at your puzzled expression. His hair is a bit messy now, blue suit is wrinkled. You can’t help but wonder if anything happened with the girl in the club.

“I’ve been waiting for hours… I followed you back here but you locked the door. I called you so many times… ” he frowns.

You go to the kitchen and fetch him a water bottle. As he starts drinking it, you find his eyes searching yours… Sparks. No. No. This is your best friend Chenle. Nothing can ever happen between you and your best friend. The one who taught you how to ride a bike, tie your shoelaces, and give the best hugs ever.

“You look so pretty,” he finally says.

“Drink your water, Chenle,” you sigh.

“You do!” he insists.

“Who has she?” and you can’t believe the words that leave your mouth. You weren’t supposed to ask.

“We did a semester together abroad. She is a good classmate that’s all. I never meant to upset you– you are too important…”

You weren’t sure where the conversation was going, but Chenle assumed he talked too much. He puts the water bottle down and makes his way to you. Now you find yourself between your best friend and your bedroom door. The hard wooden surface against your back reminds you that once you cross that threshold with him, your relationship will change forever.

His hands touch your waist, not sure if he has permission to do so, but you welcome him as the drug you need. His lips inches from yours and you pray he will kiss you, but time stops. It’s really only you and him at last like you dreamt of so many restless nights.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something since the moment I came back…”

“Yes?” your voice comes out as a breathless whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

You can’t even wait to answer him when your lips are already on his. His tongue teases yours and your lips part. He tastes of expensive wine, lust, and love. Chenle moans into your mouth and that is it for you. You want every single inch of you to be consumed by him. You reach out to open the door to your room.

“Please,” you ask.

“How can I say no to you?” he smiles and kisses you once again.

Each second you spend kissing him you feel your skin getting hotter, desire coursing through your veins making you dizzy, and then you feel him carry you. Bride style, his lips never leaving yours. He carefully lowers you onto the bed, his hands now exploring your clothed body, the feeling of sparks under his fingertips making the moment intense, and urgent. Little moans and cries escape you both as Chenle helps you to straddle him. Your delicate fingers move his hair away from his face. The most beautiful man is underneath you, eyes on yours, lips parted. His chest rises and falls, you contemplate him for a moment. He takes your hands into his, everything seems surreal, you have spent countless times in this bedroom but not like this—a new territory.

“Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake?” your voice is small, you may not want to know what he has to say.

He shakes his head. His hand reaches your cheek.

“Do you?”

Now you shake your head.

“Good. Then kiss me, silly, and don’t stop unless you don’t want to do this–” but you don’t let him finish his thought and your lips already found his.

It is then that you finally understand that he needs you as much as you need him. The pieces of clothing now are forgotten somewhere on your bedroom floor. Every part of you reacting to Chenle’s heavenly but sinful touch. His fingers finally take the only item of clothing left, your panties. He lowers himself, eye level with your wet cunt.

“So pretty,” he murmurs.

His tongue licks your entrance, ending in your clit which he sucks and your soul seems to leave your body as your back arches for him. Your hands immediately reach your breasts increasing the sinful pleasure coursing through you. You feel one of his fingers slide in you with almost no resistance. That’s how aroused you are for him. You gasp and your hips move, making the feeling of his hot mouth on your cunt even better. With his tongue flat on your slit, Chenle’s hands squeeze your thighs, encouraging you to use his face as you please. Only stopping to spit on your throbbing core, he eats you out so deliciously your soft moans turning louder. Legs over his shoulders now, he adds two curling fingers in you.

Again and again, he kicks your clit, his fingers working magic inside you, fogging your brain and heightening the urge to cum for him.

“Fuck! I– I’m–” you can’t think, you can’t speak… and so your orgasm hits you with such intensity you are shaking under him. Your legs turn to jelly. The heavy breathing that follows your cries echo in your ears. Chenle plants one last kiss on your clit and your legs close from the overstimulation.

He lets out a low-pitched chuckle and the vibration travels straight to your clit again.

“You okay?”

You look at him in between your legs. Did this just happen? Your head falls back once more to the pillow. An involuntary laugh escapes your lips. But Chenle knows you, sometimes better than he knows himself he thinks and to him, this moment is making his heart go a million miles an hour. What an honour to have you like this, all fucked out, and all for him.

Little kisses are planted on your thighs, on your lower stomach, your hands, your breasts, until he reaches your face. You giggle in response. His eyes meet yours, and different from what you thought, you are not embarrassed. You want him more than ever, so you kiss him.

“More than okay,” you finally replied.

Reaching south of his body you find his erection already leaking for you. You stroke it slowly, the faintest of moans leaving Chenle’s lips. This is the greatest reward you can get. His breath hitches as your pace gets faster.

“Aaahhh…” a long, whiny moan.

“You like that?”

He nods reassuring you.

You bring his hips lower, aligning his tip with your entrance. In anticipation, your eyes shut but immediately your jaw falls open when Chenle’s cock begins to stretch your needy cunt. Inch after inch, pleasure builds on pleasure and you silently pray the moment never ends when he starts moving in but not completely out of you. Your nails digging into his biceps, loving the way he stretches you out.

“Ch-chenle,”

“I know, I got you,” and he wraps one of your legs around his waist, making his thrusts deeper, his cock dragging against your walls that clench tightly around him.

“Feels so so good,” your hand goes to his head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling slightly.

“Say. That. Again,” he moans.

“It feels so good”.

Chenle buries his face in the crook of your neck. Mild sharp pain fades into pleasure when he bites your skin, licking the now sensitive spot to ease the harsh sensation. You pull his hair once more, this time to make him kiss you. And he does, so lost in passion, so lost in you. The kiss is sloppy, messy, perfect. His thumb presses circles on your clit acting as the perfect trigger for your orgasm. You feel climbing higher and higher, his cock twitching inside you, his hot breath fanning on your face, his lips curving into a smile. Fuck, he is everything.

“Chenle! Fuck… ah!” you cum for him.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” he repeats as a broken record as he pulls out and cums letting out a high-pitched moan that you will remember for the rest of your life.

Chenle kisses your face, your hands, and helps you clean up. However, you didn’t exchange a word then. Now, you find yourselves back in bed, still naked. His arm around your waist, your head on his chest. His heartbeat is a love poem itself.

“You know,” he breaks the silence. “I don’t ever want to say hello or leave without kissing you… I guess what I’m trying to say is–”

You kiss him. It’s a long kiss, your lips pressed against his. Everything feels just right like it’s meant to be.

“I really like you, Chenle,” you whisper, somewhat scared of what he will say back.

“I really really like you too, silly,” he smiles.

————————————————————-

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨

I hope enjoyed this :3 ~ masterlist

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fics #zhong chenle #zhong chenle x reader #zhong chenle smut #chenle x reader #chenle smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #chenle imagines #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #astayinwonderland

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moonlightndaydreams · 1 month

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Second Chances

Jisung is determined to lose his virginity at tonight’s house party. He never expected you, his former best friend, to be there.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Pairing: Jisung x female reader

Word Count: 6,989

Trope: Friends to enemies to lovers. High School house party. Loss of virginity. Forced proximity.

Author’s Note: I have decided to write this story in an Australian setting (I was feeling nostalgic) where the drinking age is 18, the final year of high school is year 12, and a lot of students turn 18 during that final year. The characters in this story are 18 because I don’t want underage drinking in my story.

Now, as much as it is set in Australia, I was actually inspired by a 90’s American High School movie called “Can’t Hardly Wait” that popped into my head while I was driving the other day. Particularly Seth Green’s character’s storyline, that I thought “That’s so Hannie coded.” Side note: Seth Green was in the Buffy series and I may have had a crush on him. Shh, don’t tell anyone.

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attacks, alcohol, past relationship trauma (Han was really mean), mention of pot and vaping, swearing.

NSFW content warning below the cut.

CW: protected sex, mention of sex toys, orgasms. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

“It’s happening boys!” Exclaimed Jisung standing in the middle of the local bottle shop. “Tonight is the night.”

“The night for what?” Jinnie turned his head from the row of bourbon bottles he was perusing.

“Tonight I’m going to have SEX!” He announced proudly.

“Wait! What?” Jinnie said, visibly surprised by his friend’s declaration.

“But you don’t have a girlfriend!” Seungmin piped up after choosing a pack of premixed Smirnoff from the shelf.

“I don’t need a girlfri-”

“And,” Seungmin Raised his hand to hush his friend mid-sentence. “You have no clue how to talk to girls.”

“Yeah dude, you kinda gotta know how to talk to girls before it moves to sex.” Jinnie implored. “Well, usually anyway.” he added.

Jisung scratched his head. “I know how to talk to girls.” he huffed. The other two chuckled and gave each other an amused look. Jisung furrowed his brow. “I do know how to talk to girls.” He whined defensively.

“Yeah yeah. Come on, let’s just buy this alcohol and head over to the party.” Jinnie smirked. “The lucky lady awaits.” he winked, slapping his friend on the ass.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Standing in the front yard belonging to the most popular kid in the school, Jisung looked up at the double-story dwelling. It was already thrumming with drunk year 12 students, and music was blaring from the living room. Lights were on all throughout the house, except for a few rooms upstairs, which Jisung decided was where people were having sex. Where he’d be having sex in the very near future. If all went to plan.

He swallowed nervously and slipped his hand inside the pocket of his baggy jeans, feeling for the condom packet he’d placed in there safely.

“Man, you're gonna rub a hole in it at this rate. Then what are you gonna do? Convince her that your pull out game is strong?” Jinnie teased.

“You’ve been checking it’s still in there for the last half an hour.” added Seungmin, and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Seungmin, wanna bet it’s still in his pocket tomorrow?” snickered Jinnie.

Suddenly a roar erupted from somewhere inside, along with the sound of bottles smashing, followed by loud cheers.

“Oh fuck.” Jisung mumbled, suddenly overcome with anxiety. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could do this. “Alright, what are we waiting for?” Jisung tried to sound cool and suave, but his voice cracked with nerves. He took a deep breath, and with a self-determination not dissimilar to the Little Engine That Could, Jisung, with his two best friends in tow, entered the party.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

You sat there on the couch in the middle of the crowded living room, questioning your existence. This wasn’t even a party from your school. Well technically it used to be your school, but not for the past two years. Some students still recognised you though, and you felt like crawling into a hole every time someone pointed a drunken finger at you and yelling “Oh my god y/n! I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth!”, or worse, hug you and say the exact same thing.

As the couple to your right’s makeout session started to heat up and the girl climbed onto the boy's lap, her flailing limbs almost knocked your drink out of your hand. You reminded yourself that you’d come to this party as wingman to your one and only friend, Felix. Felix, who begged you to support him as he came to confess his love to some guy named Chris. You had questioned why he needed to announce his feelings at a fucking party and not online like a regular person, but he’d insisted that this was the only way.

Now Felix had disappeared, and you swore the couple next to you had escalated things to the guy rubbing the girl’s pussy under her skirt.

“I know what you’re thinking.” a voice to your left interrupted your thoughts. You snapped your head up to meet a rather attractive boy with almond shaped eyes and light brown hair.

“What? Like how to dissociate when people are feeling each other up next to you? Or how the fuck did I end up here in the first place?” You said sarcastically.

The boy smirked. Like a devil. “Well, no. I guess I don’t know what you’re thinking afterall.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why? What did you think I was thinking, hmm?” You challenged him.

“That that looks like fun,’ he pointed to the horny lovers next to you. “and where can I hook up with a guy who knows what he’s doing?” He leaned in “and just so you know, that guy there has no clue what he’s doing.”

You were shocked by this boy’s self assuredness. “And you’re the expert, I suppose?” You raised one eyebrow.

“Well if you come upstairs with me, I can show you that I am very much an expert.”

You laughed dryly. “As much as I am really not enjoying it here,” you gestured around the room. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to respectfully decline your offer.”

Minho leaned back and examined your face as though he was weighing up if you were worth pursuing. He clicked his tongue. “Suit yourself then.” He said indifferently. “But if you change your mind, you can find me upstairs. But be warned, you might have to wait your turn.”

With that the boy stood up and left you sitting there stunned. God what a dick, you shuddered and pulled your phone out of your handbag. No messages from Felix. You quickly texted him asking him where he’s at with “Operation Bang Chan”. He hated that that’s what you called tonight’s efforts. He thought it was more a “Sincere Confession of Love”.

Love. You snorted to yourself on the couch. Fuck love. You loved a boy once. Once upon a time. Fuck, that was part of your hesitation in even coming here tonight in the first place. Your former best friend whom you secretly loved. What if he was here? What if you ran into him? You couldn’t think of anything worse. Just the mere thought of him conjured a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You tried to shake the feeling, but shame crept into your chest. The humiliation and rejection from that day seeping back into your body. The feeling as real, as visceral, as the day it happened. The heartbreak, and heartache, suddenly felt like a fresh wound, even though you’d had two years to heal. His words, his voice, cold and cruel in your head, like he’d only just spoken them.

“Fuck off slag. I’m sick of having you hang around me anyway. Actually, I never even liked you. I just put up with you because I was bored.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You needed some space. No. You needed to leave. You slipped your phone away and headed upstairs in search of a bathroom. Your plan was to pee, call Felix to tell him you had to go, then catch an Uber home. Easy. Only three steps. You’ve got this. You continued to mumble positive affirmations to yourself as you trudged up the stairs, avoiding the loitering drunk students along the way.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

From the outset, Jisung knew he didn’t fit in. He recognised the majority of the kids from the smalltown school, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what most of their names were. Apart from spending time with Jinnie and Seungmin, Jisung kept to himself. He immersed himself in his music. Listening to, and making, music. It was actually how he met his two best mates - in the arts department. Jinnie was a dancer, and Seunmgin loved to sing.

“Are you doing okay, Ji?” Seungmin checked in. Jisung nodded but didn’t speak. The three oddball boys had positioned themselves in the corner of the living room with their bourbon and cokes, and a bottle of premixed Smirnoff for Seungmin.

To their right, was a group of rowdy athletic types. If this were an American teen movie they’d be called the jocks. But these guys weren’t bullies like a lot of the jocks were in the movies. These guys were just good at sport, and were actually the type to get along with absolutely everyone. How people could actually make small talk to teachers and adults of the community, Jisung didn’t know. But Changbin, the kid whose party this was, and his best mate Chris, were able to do it with ease. The pair were also the most decent humans of the lot. It was the reason Jisung even considered coming to the party in the first place. He knew they wouldn’t kick him out on the front lawn for being unpopular.

As Jisung continued to take in the scene around him, he realised that there were in fact a lot of different friend groups there. From the unpopular bookworms who studied hard, to extremely popular bookworms that studied hard. To the potheads (which Jisung recognised more than he wanted to), and the kids that wagged school and vaped. There were the Surfies, the Gamers, and a few guys that were obviously in their twenties that hadn’t seemed to move on from high school. Losers. Jisung thought to himself, despite very much feeling like a loser himself.

“What about her?” Seungmin pointed to a group of three girls who looked around wide eyed as though they’d never seen a party in their lives.

‘Or her there?” Jinnie pointed to a pair of girls Jisung recognised from his music class.

As the pair continued to target potential candidates to “pop Jisung’s cherry” as Jinnie so eloquently put it, Jisung continued to scan the room. He was taken aback when his gaze landed on a boy whose body language oozed fuckboi confidence. Minho. Jisung was pretty sure that was his name. Fuck why couldn’t he feel that confident? Jisung studied “this Minho” for a long moment. He was seated obnoxiously comfortably, manspread on a couch, a beer in one hand, his other arm spread out across the back of the seat. He was talking, no, hitting on, a girl sitting beside him. Jisung couldn’t quite see her face because some guy was standing obstructing his view. Then all of a sudden Minho stood up, winked at two other girls, and headed upstairs. The two girls followed him. Damn. Thought Jisung. Two girls?

Jisung’s gaze reverted back to where Minho had been flirting with the girl on the couch, wondering what her reaction was to him just getting up and summoning two chicks to follow him upstairs. To those dark rooms.

The guy who had been standing in Jisung’s line of vision stepped to the side momentarily and he got a clear view of who Minho had been talking to.

His heart stopped beating, and he felt a surge of heat wash over his face before his blood drained away entirely, leaving him feeling like he’d seen a ghost. You. Then you stood up and headed upstairs too.To where Minho was.

The room felt like it was spinning, and the voices around him became muffled like he was underwater. Oh god he was going to be sick.

“Ji? Ji are you okay buddy?” A voice, Seungmin? asked. But Jisung couldn’t answer. “You’re all sweaty, man.”

“I think he’s having a panic attack. We should probably get him some fresh air. Hey, Ji. Mate? Let’s go somewhe-“

“I gotta get out here!” Jisung cried. He yanked Seungmin’s hand off his arm and rushed away as fast as possible.

Upstairs.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

There were several doors on the landing and you had no idea which one was the bathroom. You cracked open a door revealing what seemed to be a bedroom with some dark shapes moving about on the bed and making some grunting sounds. You quickly closed that door, thankful they didn’t seem to notice your intrusion.

You tried another door. But this time the occupants did notice you. “Well, it looks like the kitten has changed her mind.” Minho said with an air of triumph. The two girls that were clinging onto him turned to you with a look of disgust. You rolled your eyes, closed the door and quickly moved on.

Finally, you found the bathroom. You closed your eyes and leaned against the door, relieved you were finally alone. You let out a long exhale, then opened your eyes to take in your surroundings. The bathroom was spectacular, although rather garish with the decor. Everything in the room was huge. The room itself was twice the size of your bedroom, with a large bathtub along the far wall, and a giant window above it. The vanity was long with an expensive looking custom sink with gold tap fittings, and the mirror above was trimmed with a gold frame to match. This Changbin fellow was rather well off, wasn’t he?

You relieved your bladder on what you were certain was the most expensive toilet you’d ever sat on, and watched your reflection as you washed your hands at the sink. You barely recognised yourself tonight. This setting, a school party setting, was not where you fit in, and you could tell just by looking at yourself. You looked so lost and out of place. You wondered for a moment what life might have looked like if you hadn’t moved and changed schools? You wondered if you would have been able to face the boy that broke your heart. Would you have gotten over him? Could you have faced him everyday? If you were honest with yourself you hadn’t gotten over him even now, even when you hadn’t seen him since that day. Even when he hurt you so fucking badly.

You shook the thought away and picked up your phone to see if Felix had returned your message. Flat. The battery was fucking flat. Well that was just fucking great. You groaned in frustration just as the bathroom door opened and slammed closed, causing you to snap your head over to the door to find yourself looking at the back of a boy wearing baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt and leaning his face against the door.

“What the fuck, dude! Don’t you know how to kno-”

The words died on your tongue when the boy turned around and you were standing face to face with the last person you ever wanted to see again.

He stared back at you. Pure horror on his face.

“Jisung?” you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“Fuck.” Jisung mumbled and quickly turned back around to open the door. He turned the handle, but nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. He was becoming more and more frantic as he gripped the handle, rattling it and pulling at the door, like he was trying to run for his life. “No. No. No. I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe. I have to get out.” Then the door handle fell off entirely, silencing him momentarily. Jisung bashed his head on the door, then turned and sank to the floor defeated. He scrunched his eyes tight, brought his knees up to his chest and covered his face in his hands. “I have to leave. I can’t be here. You can’t be here.”

You watched your former best friend falling apart on the bathroom floor. So he still had anxiety attacks then? Something pulled at your heart.

Putting everything you felt about Jisung aside, the anger, the heartache, the humiliation, you moved closer to him, as if on autopilot, sliding down next to him on the floor. “It’s okay Ji.” you soothed. “You’re having a panic attack. We’ve been through these before, remember? And we’ve gotten through it every time.”

Jisung shook his head. “No. I have to get out of here. Trapped. I’m trapped. Why am I hallucinating? You’re not real. I never hallucinate. Oh god the attacks must be getting worse. I fucked up so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I need to get out of here.” He rambled, rocking his body back and forth. You gently placed a hand on his knee. “Ji. I need you to focus on your breathing okay? Focus on the exhale. That’s it, long exhales. Focus on my hand. Can you feel that?”

You sat with Jisung through his attack, gently bringing him back to the present moment and walking him through the steps you knew worked for him. Eventually, he removed his hands from his face and peered at you through teary eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.” he whispered. “Why are you here? Why are you helping me after…after I did what I did?” he averted his eyes.

You sat up straight feeling uncomfortable at the mention of that day. “Well, you needed help.” you sucked in your lip. “And we need to call someone to open the door. Where’s your phone?”

“Phone?” Jisung echoed vaguely. He patted his pants. “Shit.” he reached inside his pockets. “Fuck!” he groaned and you could visibly see his anxiety bubbling up again. He pulled out his empty hand, not noticing he’d dropped something out of his pocket. You picked up the little square wrapper, only releasing what it was upon closer inspection. A condom.

So he goes to parties and sleeps with girls then?

“Um…here. You dropped this.” you said awkwardly, handing the condom back to Jisung who glared at you as he snatched it back, shoving it deep inside his pocket again.

“Well?” you said. Jisung didn’t respond. “Your phone?” you added expectantly. The sooner you got out of there the better.

“I-I don’t have it.” He said quietly. I must have dropped it. Out there.” he gulped. You banged your head against the door in frustration and closed your eyes.

“Wait. Where’s your phone?” he quizzed defiantly.

“Fucking flat.” you replied not opening your eyes. “Eventually someone will need to use the bathroom, right? Right?” you peered over to Jisung who looked exhausted.

“I think this house has at least four bathrooms. So our chances of escaping might not be as good as you think.” he replied.

“Fuck.” you sighed.

“Yep. Fuck alright.”

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

You spent the best part of the next hour trying to figure out a way to escape. Starting with screaming for help, and bashing on the door, to eventually finding the clean towels and pulling them out of the vanity cupboard with a great escape plan of tying them all together and using it as rope to climb out the window.

“I don’t think it’s going to work.” Jisung said watching you sit in the middle of the bathroom floor attempting to tie two towels together. You scowled at him.

“There aren’t enough towels, and they're too chunky to tie.” he said plainly.

“Well it works in the movies.” you huffed.

“Pretty sure they use bedsheets not towels. Anyway, I need to pee so…” he gestured for you to turn around.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, focusing on your plan.

Jisung flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

“Fine. I give up.” you conceded and tossed the two towels back into the pile and threw yourself on top of it dramatically.

“Look,” he said, pulling the towels out from underneath you. “We might not be able to gallantly climb out the window, but we can make the floor more comfortable.” he started laying the towels out on the floor in front of the bathtub and then sat himself down. “Yep. Much better. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t feel my arse before.”

Sighing, you crawled over and sat beside Jisung and leaned on the side of the bathtub. He was right, this was a little more comfortable.

“So now what?” you said looking at the ceiling.

“I guess we really will have to wait.” he shrugged.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

Time passed slowly, and Jisung didn’t know whether he should attempt to make conversation or stay quiet. You probably hated him after the things he said to you. Should he bring it up? See if you were open to talk about what had happened? Should he just make small talk and pretend nothing had ever happened at all? In the end he said nothing. At least that way he couldn’t make things any worse.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t use your-” you nodded towards Jisung’s pocket where the condom packet was safely tucked away. “I mean, I’m sure you can go one weekend without sex.” You nudged him in the leg teasingly.

“Well, about that.” Jisung cleared his throat. “Well..I’ve never…well.. you know?” He hesitated and looked away. “Slept with anyone.” he said shyly.

“Oh.” You said, sounding surprised by his admission. “Ooh! Right! So let me get this straight, you came to this party tonight planning to lose your virginity?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Hey!” He whined defensively, making you laugh. He hadn’t heard you laugh in such a long time. Jisung never thought he’d get the chance to hear it again after you were gone.

“Well, if we do get out of here, there’s a guy across the hall who’d probably be happy to help you out. Apparently he’s an expert.” You said sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d love to give us both our first times.”

Jisung met your gaze. “Wait, you’re a virgin too?” he asked wide eyed.

“Why? Does that surprise you, Jisung?”

“Well, yeah. I was certain a girl like you would-” Jisung’s eyes widened even more. “No! That came out so wrong.” He clapped his hand over his mouth.

“What? A slag like me?” you said coldly.

Jisung grabbed your hands, panicstricken. “No, baby!” he cried. “Oh, god! No. I never thought that! I fucked up so bad that day. I…I was a fucking dickhead. I was mean. Oh fuck, I was so cruel to you.” tears filled his eyes and began to spill down his cheeks.

You looked down at the floor.

“Baby, baby…please look at me. Say something.” He squeezed your hands in his. You didn’t pull away.

“What did I even do to you to make you say those things? Why do you hate me so much?” you asked quietly, turning to him.

“I…don’t hate you baby! It… I… well I was told you’d been sleeping with some guy. I mean, I know we weren’t actually going out, but when I’d heard you had… slept with someone…and that you were moving schools too… and hadn’t told me that either… I just freaked out. I was hurt. I wanted you to be with me. But you didn’t want me. I thought you weren’t going to tell me anything and you’d be gone. Gone with another guy, and leaving. Behind my back. I was so pathetic.”

You sat in silence taking in what Jisung had just shared.

“You really thought I’d do that to you?” you said eventually. “Jisung! Why didn’t you just talk to me? Why believe what some bitch told you?” You started to cry too.

“I know I shouldn’t have believed her. She showed me text messages and everything. Texts you’d allegedly sent.” He shook his head. “And then I found out it was all a lie. They’d fucking made that shit up. And you’d gone. Then I was angry that you didn’t confront me, pull me up on it. That you just let me say all those horrible things to you and you said nothing. You didn’t even try to defend yourself. That’s when I had the biggest panic attack of my life. When I realised how bad I fucked things up.”

Jisung sobbed as he thought back to when he told you he hated you. That you were a nuisance to him. He hadn’t even meant any of it. Not really. He didn’t think anyone would ever really know how much it was killing him to speak those words. How it felt like he was being stabbed in the heart when your face fell. He even knew the exact moment the words hit you the hardest. The way your eyes blinked back tears. Jisung winced at the memory. He’d tried to tell himself that it was for the best. That it was the easiest way to break the friendship off. That you deserved it, even. But you didn’t deserve it. Any of it. You hadn’t done anything at all. It was his fault.

“Why didn’t you come find me? Apologise? Make things right?” You croaked.

“I was sure you’d have moved on, and I believed you were better off without me.” He hung his head.

“Ji. You hurt me so much. You know that right?”

He looked at you and nodded solemnly. “I know.”

“Like, no one has ever hurt me like you did. You made me feel worthless.”

“I’d do anything to take it back. To make it right.” Jisung whispered. He looked at you with regret in his eyes.

“But,” you looked directly at him. “At least I now know the reason you behaved the way you did. But fucking hell man, you went about it in the worst way possible. Look, I’m not forgiving you for behaving like that. Not by a long shot. But,” you sobbed loudly. “But I missed my best friend.” You began to cry harder, losing all self control and letting the tears stream down your cheeks. “I missed you, and I didn’t want you to hate me like you did. You hated me and I didn’t know why?”

Jisung pulled you close to his chest and rested his chin on the top of your head as you cried against his chest. He hated himself for how he’d made you feel. He was responsible for this. He was responsible for fucking up your friendship. He was in love with you and he’d pushed you away. He wanted to look after you and take care of you, but he’d told you he didn’t want you around. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, not make you cry.

His life hadn’t been the same after you’d left. No one was there to share his thoughts with, or stay up late talking about random shit, or share his music with. There was no one there who could help him through his anxiety the way you could. No one laughed at his silly jokes the way you did. No one made him feel like he could be his awkward, quirky self except you.

But somehow fate had brought you back together and he was determined to fix this.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

You let yourself relax into Jisung’s embrace and cried your eyes out. You felt safe in his arms despite him being the reason you were hurting. But he was hurting too. Both when he thought you’d betrayed him, and even now. He was hurting now and you couldn’t hate him. You kind of understood his perspective. You could definitely see that he knew how he’d fucked up.

You don’t know how long you sat there like that, but eventually you lifted your head and looked at Jisung. “Am I all red and puffy?” You smiled despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jisung half smiled. “Yeah.” He said softly. “What about me?”

You reached up to wipe Jisung’s tear streaked cheek and took in his features. You really looked at him. He was still your Jisung. His cheeks weren’t as chubby, his jaw a little more coarse where he shaved. “You’ve grown up.” You whispered and your eyes locked. Your heart sped up. The way he was looking at you, it was different to the way he’d looked at you previously. The tension was palpable.

Jisung cleared his throat and broke eye contact. “Well I’m an adult now.” He joked like he was trying to change the energy of the moment. “I can vote now.” He added proudly.

“Hmm lucky us, huh? Allowed to vote.” You followed his lead. “And we can drink? And get into nightclubs and pubs.”

“I’d rather just have a quiet movie night than do all that going out.” He said thoughtfully. “I’d prefer the quiet life I think.”

You leaned away from him and looked at him quizzically. “But what about your music? Aren’t you wanting to play in some of those places?”

“Depends. Will you come watch me if I do?” He asked.

You nodded. “I miss your music.”

“Well I’ve written a lot of songs in the last couple of years. Mostly angsty stuff.” He blushed.

“I’d love to hear everything if you ever wanna show me.” You leaned back against the tub. “Well here’s to adult life, hey.” you sighed.

“That’s if we ever actually get out of here. We might survive a couple of days in here, but the outlook doesn’t look good.” Jisung laughed dryly. “But at least we have a toilet.”

“And water to drink and wash ourselves with. I like the look of this bath.” You glanced over your shoulder.

“We might starve to death, but we can enjoy bubble baths in the meantime.” He joked.

“I’m pretty sure I saw some organic, all natural sugar scrub when I was searching the cupboards. Maybe it’s edible?” you suggested.

You both laughed, finally feeling more at ease with each other. It felt familiar. It felt nice.

“I can see the news headline: Two virgin teenagers starve to death in a luxurious bathroom after being trapped for three weeks.” You announced in your best newsreader’s voice.

“God, that’s sad.” Jisung shook his head. “Hey? Do you remember that pact we made?” he turned to you.

Your laugh faded. “Oh.” You cast your mind back. “Oh my goodness. Yes! I remember.” You covered your mouth to hide your smile. “If either of us hadn’t had sex by sex by eighteen-“

“We’d have sex with each other.” He gave a shit eating grin. You smirked at him and shook your head in disbelief. “Jisung!” You punched him playfully in the arm and leaned into his body. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed your arm affectionately. This felt so natural, so easy. You laid your hand across his waist, still so tiny, and played with the fabric of his shirt. “Ji? Did you mean what you said earlier? That you wanted to be with me. Like more than just best friends?” You waited silently for him to answer.

“Yeah. I always wanted to be more than just your best friend.” He said in a quiet voice.

You slowly lifted your chin up to look at him. He gazed down at you with the softest eyes. Slowly, he tilted his face down towards yours and brushed your lips with his. It was electric despite it being the briefest of contact. He pulled away just an inch, hesitating to continue. Waiting for you to give him a signal to either keep going or to stop. Your eyes flicked up from his lips to meet his eyes momentarily before wrapping his shirt in your fist and pulling him back into another kiss. An unexpected whimper got caught in your throat as Jisung’s lips moved against your own. Slow but firm. His kiss felt hopeful, like a promise.

“I should have come and found you, begged for your forgiveness.” he said breathily between kisses. “I’m sorry baby, I really am.”

“Shh. Kiss me more.. It feels so right.” you sighed and pulled him back in.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

It did feel right. Kissing you. Jisung wanted to show you how much you meant to him. How sorry he was. How much he wanted to make it up to you. Your lips tasted like heaven, and your body so soft and warm in his arms. You were real and this was really happening.

He cupped your jaw, initiating a deeper kiss and you opened your mouth in response. The moan that slipped from you as he dipped his tongue in to find yours went straight to his cock. You pressed your body against his, panting as your tongues danced, like you were trying to crawl inside him. He could hardly control himself when he felt your hand slip under his shirt and caress his bare skin.

Jisung pulled away abruptly, eliciting a wine from you in protest. You looked drunk and delirious with flushed cheeks and soft, unfocused eyes. You looked like perfection.

“Ji, I want you to be my first.” you declared with a hopeful expression.

Jisung blinked thinking he misheard.

“W-what?” he stuttered.

“I want you to be my first.” you repeated, not breaking eye contact.

Jisung swallowed and studied your face trying to make sure you knew the weight of what you were saying. “Do you want me to be your first too?” you asked in a small voice.

“I want you to be my first and my forever.” he whispered before he could stop himself. Shit.

“There’s my songwriter.” you smiled, stroking his cheek. Then your hand went to rest on his pocket where the condom resided.

“What? Here? Now? On the bathroom floor at a party?”

You nodded.

“Baby, this isn’t how I envisioned it. I mean, not that I have ever imagined it. Okay, I have imagined it. But…it’s not very romantic.” he looked at you desperately, hoping you’d come to your senses, because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself.

“Jisung, please.” you purred. Fuck, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

“How can you want me when I hurt you like I did?” he leaned his forehead on yours.

“Let’s forget that right now. I know you’re sorry. I really do. And I know that it wasn’t really you. Let’s focus on moving forward.” You slid both hands up underneath his shirt making him shiver. His mind automatically imagined what it’d feel like if you wrapped a hand around his dick.

“Okay.” he said finally. “But you have to tell me to stop if you change your mind at any time.”

“Okay.” you whispered.

If this was going to happen, on the floor of a bathroom at a damn house party, then Jisung wanted to at least make it as comfortable for you as possible. He rearranged the towels to provide as much cushioning as possible, and he opened the blinds and turned off the light to allow natural moonlight to fill the room.

Then he was laying you down gently on the floor. “Are you going to undress me now?” you asked boldly.

Jisung felt so nervous as he fumbled at your clothes, peeling off your shirt and jeans, leaving you just in your underwear. In turn, you pulled his shirt off and ran your hands up his back while you pulled him down into a kiss. He let his hands explore your bare skin, his desire, his need, to be closer to you growing stronger by the moment. He was certain you could feel his erection against your leg. You pulled him further on top of you, opening your legs and inviting him to nestle his hips between them. You’d definitely be able to feel his erection now. You ground your core up against him, making him moan and grind back in response.

“Fuck, baby.” he mumbled into your neck. “Feels s’good.” he peeled himself off you to kneel between your legs, taking in the sight of you while he rubbed circles on your hips. Then bravely he brought his thumb to graze over your centre over the top of your panties. You pulled in a sharp breath and Jisung couldn’t help but smirk.

“Ji, please! Take off your pants…I want you now!” you plead. Jisung closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to control his nerves. This was actually happening. He was about to have sex, and with the girl he’d dreamed of sharing this moment with.

“Please.” you practically begged and your hand slipped down beneath the front of your panties and rubbed at your clit.

Jisung sprung into action. He removed his jeans and boxers, and then peeled your panties off, revealing how your fingers expertly slid through your wetness. “Fuck!” he groaned, and quickly rolled the condom on.

“Jisung!” you gasped. “You have such a pretty penis.”

“Yeah?” he teased as he positioned himself above you again. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked gently.

“I’m sure, Jisung.” you locked eyes with his.

Jisung lined his cock up with your entrance and gently pushed inside an inch, feeling your pussy stretch around his tip. He carefully pushed in a little further, your warmth inviting him in and enveloping him. “Is this okay? Am I going too fast?” he inquired.

“Jisung. I may be a virgin but I own a dildo. Please, please I need you in me.” you whimpered.

Jisung’s cock pulsated at the image of you fucking yourself with a dildo, imagining what you’d look like showing him exactly how you did it.

“Oh so you’ve been stretched out before huh? Well then.” he pushed himself in all the way and paused.

“Mmm hmm. But it’s not as thick as you. You…you’re making me feel so…so full…so stretched. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect for me…please…can you move now?”

Jisung reached down and gripped onto your thigh, lifting it and pushing it a little more to the side. He rested himself on his forearm and took you in a deep kiss. At the same time he pulled his cock out halfway and sank back in. You both breathed out shakily. This felt too good. He started with a slow rhythm, gradually building up the pace, careful not to thrust too hard. You were so wet, and so fucking tight, It took all his self control not to start fucking you with abandon. But he didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to give you whatever you needed right now and let you set the pace. It was his absolute downfall when you spoke next.

“Fuck me harder, Ji.” you whimpered.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

Jisung felt heavenly inside you, but you needed more. You needed to really feel him, to feel how much he needed you, to make you his.

Jisung hesitated. “You sure, baby? I might hurt you?”

“Come on pleeeasse… I wanna be yours.”

Jisung suddenly snapped his hips making you cry out in pure pleasure. “Yes, like that. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to last, baby. You feel too…too…fuck.” he panted.

Jisung began to perspire, beads of sweat on his brow, his hair damp. Sound of your skin slapping together filled the room and you were grateful for the loud music downstairs.

“I’m so close.” he whispered.

‘It’s okay, Ji. I’m close too. Rub my clit while you fuck me. I promise you’ll like what happens when you do.”

Jisung slipped his thumb in between your bodies. “Right here, baby.” you slipped your hand over his, adjusting the position of his thumb so that he could feel your clitoris. “Rub it in circles. Like this.” you guided him for a few moments before letting him take over.

It was enough to take you to the precipice. “I gonna cum, Ji, fuck me through it.” you cried as your back arched off the floor. His thrusts were deep, hard and controlled and that’s when you felt it. The coil in your abdomen snapping and you were being flung off the cliff.

“Oh god…fuuuuckk! You’re squeezing me so tight… you’re…” he grunted.

“Yes, I'm cumming. Cum with me Ji!” you cried out.

You felt Jisung’s hips falter, and an expression of pained pleasure washed over his features as he filled the condom.

He collapsed on top of you and you held him tight, while you both came down from your highs.

“Oh my god. That was incredible. I could feel you cum.” he lifted his head and looked at you in disbelief.

“It was pretty perfect.” you agreed.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

After you had both cleaned up, which was easy considering you were in a bathroom, you found yourselves fully dressed and sitting back on the floor in front of the bath.

"You know, we could have run a bath and had sex in that.” you suggested as an afterthought.

“Baby,” Jisung said in a serious tone. “Do you really want to put the past behind us? Start fresh? You’ll really have me after…?”

You took his hand in yours. “Yes, yes I do. But you have to promise to talk to me before ever accusing me of anything. Okay?”

He nodded. ‘Yes of course.”

He leaned in and kissed you, before a banging at the door startled you both and broke Jisung from the bubble you were in. “Ji? Ji? Are you in there, mate?” Seungmin called from the otherside of the door.

“So, should we let them save us, or stay like this just a little bit longer?” he whispered, secretly hoping you actually wanted to stay like this forever.

The end.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Thank you for reading my story. I love sharing my ideas with you. If you know any Han Jisung fanfic fans please feel free to reblog and tag them 🥰🥰🥰

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @weareapackofstrays

#skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #sorshas fic

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r0ttenhearts · 9 months

Text

cold greetings

cheater! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after taking scaramouche back from a nasty breakup-situationship he isn’t the same

warnings: cheating, angst, mean scara

“scara?” your voice almost trembled, seeing him standing on your doorstep. his cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold but a sorrowed look graced his features. he looked as if he had been crying, dark streaks down his cheeks as his cold hand gripped onto the hand you held against the door.

“(y/n)..” he whispered, gaze onto the snowy white carpet of snow on your steps. the lingering resentment held awkwardly in the air. it was almost like an unspoken promise.

the anger and resentment you still held for him kept you guarded. his tears wouldn’t sway you. not this time.

“i just, i wanna talk to you. you don’t have to say anything but i have to say this to you, or i’m afraid i’ll never get a chance to again.” he spoke softly, almost tenderly. it was as if the cruelty he had hurled towards you not too long ago never happened.

“okay. talk, but then you’re out.” you hesitantly stood aside and let his shaking figure inside. it almost felt nostalgic to see him sitting at your kitchen table again. the pink on his cheeks and the thick scarf around his neck did nothing to hide the feeling you got seeing him like this, once again.

taking a seat in front of him, you noticed the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his focus on his fingernails, lap, the salt shaker, anything but you.

he let out a heavy sigh before looking up at you. his eye bags seemed darker than they were the last time you saw him.

“i know i have no excuse to be here. i shouldn’t be, i know that. i hate how we ended things (y/n). it’s been you and i for years, and i miss you. i miss having you around, i miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.” a shake exhale left his lips as he sat there. guilt written all across his face. “i shouldn’t have left you that way (y/n). not when you needed me the most.” he whispered the last part, knowing how much he had hurt you.

how much he had fucked up.

memories of that night flashed back to your mind. his anger, that glare he held as he tormented you with the details of the new girl that occupied his mind. his loud laughs at your feeble attempt to show him that you didn’t need him.

it still hurt, even now. you shook your head, feeling that familiar pain again. “i can’t just forgive you scara. that was really fucked up.”

“i know (y/n), and i’m sorry. i really am. it’s just.. i’ve been thinking about it more with the holiday’s coming up. i don’t want to start a year without you in my life.”

you bit your lip back at that. your sense of nostalgia was something that kept you with him for as long as you did. you yearned for the comfort of the past, begged for it. it was the one thing that felt safe, memories.

with some reluctance, you let him back into your life. he seemed different. he was more willing to do activities with you, things he had refused to do once before. some of his belongings had found a place in your home. it felt good to be around him. almost as if you two were young again, discovering the deeper parts of your relationship together as foolish teens.

but.. if it felt so good why was he so distant now? you paused, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. it was dark except for the bright game on his monitor illuminating a corner of his room, headset on his ears as he clicked away. not paying you any mind.

“hey, scara? you said tonight we could watch—“

“i do not care (y/n). let me play my damn game, won’t you? i have more important things to do than watch something i don’t care about because of your whining.”

oh. oh. without another word you slipped away, quietly leaving his apartment. if he wanted to be alone so bad he could have his alone time. to hell with him! you thought to yourself. you wouldn’t spill any tears, not this time.

you went to bed alone that night. hugging yourself and wondering why he had to repeat history, once again. you had lost count of how many times this had happened before. he would always come crawling back to you once his life fell apart, using your weakness for the bittersweet past you’d longed for.

sighing, you rolled over on your side. you wouldn’t bother him anymore, not with how things were going. you were done with him. done!

you tensed at the feeling of cold hands around your waist, warm breath hitting the nape of your neck as your bed dipped slightly behind you. “i’m sorry (y/n).. that was a dick move.”

you scoffed, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as best as you could. “i’m tired of this scara.” you said quietly. “i’m tired of you doing this to me. it’s been years, and you never stay the same.” you say with a sigh.

scaramouche muttered apologies as he kissed along your neck. his cold hands finding a place on your stomach now as he caressed you. “i’m sorry (y/n). i’ll be better.”

a small smile flashed across your face once he turned you onto your back, leaning down to meet your lips. the kiss felt warm, unlike the cold indifferent kisses you would press against his chapped lips.

he spent the night in your bed, holding you and reminding you of the promise you had made to each other as kids. “i will always stick with you, despite who i meet along the way.”

you woke up groggy the next day, reaching out to the space next to you only to find it empty. with a yawn you made your way to your bedroom door, opening it but pausing once you heard scaramouche’s voice. he was talking to someone, but who?

“yeah i know babe. i’ll be over by tonight. i’m just busy with work stuff, you know how it is. don’t let childe come. alright bye, see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t think as you walked up to him, grabbing his phone out of his hand and slamming it onto the table next to him. “what the fuck? are you fucking serious?”

“what (y/n)? she’s just a friend. don’t get so bitchy.”

you scoffed, shoving him back as hard as you could. your hands trembled with anger. he had betrayed you again. you stupidly believed he had learned.

“fuck you. i’m done, done with this game. get the fuck out and never come back.” he didn’t say a word as he went back into your room, grabbing his jacket and leaving you there. alone.

you didn’t cry, not at first. you were too angry to cry, all you wanted to do was scream. it seemed so good while it lasted. you believed it was the last time, the last time of being apart and being no contact for months until things would fall apart for him. the way it always did.

it took months to rebuild your life without him. he hadnt reached out, not once. but inbetween drinks with kazuha you would hear about him. his new relationship, how nice his new girlfriend was. it made the drinks taste more bitter as you’d gulp them down.

once it was june you’d find yourself with kazuha on most days. your shared laughs throughout the night turned into interlocked fingers on the sheets of your bed. it was the first time in a long time that you felt good about having a relationship with someone. like a new phase of your life had begun.

a knock on your door one stormy night brought all of this to a halt. you half expected to see kazuha there as you swung open the door. “kazu- oh.” your smile fell seeing who it was. it wasn’t your white haired lover, but your ex situationship from what seemed to be forever ago. the rain slid down his dark hair as his hand went to touch yours, but you retracted it just as fast. it was just like that day in december.

“can we talk, (y/n)?”

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#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scara angst #scara x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #scara x you #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x y/n

765 notes · View notes

ddmmyuta · 8 months

Note

Can I request a Yuta Nakamoto best friend smut? With female reader...

-🫣anon

I like your hands…

yuta x afab reader

warnings (wtf are you doing on smut tumblr as a minor?): smut, friends turned situationship, more smut, hand kink…

it was finally the weekend after a week that felt like a month! you needed to chill, take a breath, get some needed sleep, meditate… but that wasn’t going to happen, for you were going to a concert that evening. not that you minded… you were going to watch your best friend Yuta perform live, something you have always wanted to witness. but before that you had to do grown-up stuff… like shower and make yourself food and go get groceries… ugh!

just as you were about to exit your apartment to go get some groceries, your phone rings in your bag. it’s Yuta (your bestie) asking if you wanted to go for a quick brunch (that sounded so millennial I’m sorry). you agreed after being hesitant… you wondered where he got the time since he was literally performing that evening to thousands of people. you quickly pack the rest of your bag and sprint to the cafe he said to meet up at.

the cafe was fancy to say the least. you walked through the cafe doors and saw Yuta sitting in the middle of the room, already drinking a coffee. he doesn’t notice you until you’re right next to him. he quickly stands and gives you a hug ‘hi y/n, how have you been?’ he asks, pulling your seat out for you to sit. ‘I’ve been good… busy but good.’ you reply, settling your bag to the side. ‘shouldn’t you be preparing for a crowd of thousands at the moment’ you ask, looking into his eyes. damn, his eyes are really pretty now that you’re actually noticing and his hair compliments his skin tone a little too much to your liking. ‘We have a few hours before the concert and I knew you were coming to watch… thought we could chat a bit since we’ve both been busy and out of touch’ he says, grabbing your hand that was on the table and holding it. His hands are… fucking beautiful to say the least. it’s like Aphrodite sculpted every vein and crease on his hands, wrists… wow. ‘Would you like to order something?’ Yuta asks as the waiter is standing next to you… you must’ve gotten lost in a trance while looking at Yuta’s hands… you were weak!

after your meeting, Yuta walked with you back to your car, a awkward silence filled the air. ‘y/n, is there anything you’re insecure about?’ he asks, not in a offensive way, he was genuinely curious. ‘I don’t know, I think I’m insecure about everything and nothing at the same time. some days I feel pretty and other days I feel like dog shit’ you answer, Yuta looking at you confused. ‘Is there anything you’re insecure about?’ you ask in return. he takes a while to get to something that makes him feel insecure… ‘I don’t like my hands that much.’ you are shocked to say the least… ‘why, your hands are so pretty?’ you ask, a reprimanding tone in your voice. ‘I don’t know, I just wouldn’t list it as something that makes me attractive.’ he replies, you still shocked by his statement. you finally reach your car as Yuta greets you. ‘I should go get ready for tonight’s concert…’ you say, Yuta turning away and walking. ‘oh… and I like your hands…’ you say to him across the parking lot. you didn’t see it but he smiled and blushed so hard he could barely keep a straight face.

you arrive at the stadium for the concert, lines waiting for their tickets to get scanned. it was packed and you knew it was going to be a suffocating environment, however that didn’t matter for you were supporting your BEST FRIEND (which you told yourself constantly after your encounter at the cafe that morning). the show starts, people screaming and shouting, lights flashing… it was incredibly entertaining and somewhat nostalgic. the other members were amazing but your eyes were focused on Yuta… a little too much honestly. you started wondering mid concert if you were falling hard for the dude who lies like it’s a language and calls you bro as if it’s your first name. to be honest you tuned out so hard that before you knew it, the concert ended. people were leaving and the seats next to you were empty as you were just standing there lifelessly in a state of thought. you snapped back to reality shortly, got your things and went to go greet the guys backstage.

as you entered the backstage area you saw the other members either cooling off, eating or chatting with one another or other fans with a backstage pass, but you couldn’t see Yuta. you figured he was tired and probably wanted to be alone, so you greeted some of the guys but eventually left soon after. as you were heading for the exit of the backstage area, Yuta runs after you. ‘y/n where are you going?’ he asks slightly out of breath from running and performing for like… 2-ish hours. ‘I didn’t see you backstage so I thought you were tired or getting dressed…’ in that moment as you looked at him you realized he was shirtless. ‘I’m sorry, I wanted to change quickly before I saw you, I look all sweaty…’ he says shyly, and you won’t lie you would lick that sweat anytime! ‘I was wondering if you’d like a drink? Tea?’ he asked, gesturing to go to his dressing room. You couldn’t say no cause he looked all sexy with sweat dripping down his neck and he still smelled like an angel and his hair was all messy and his tattoos look all pretty and his belly button piercing was shining and his… you were WEAK!

as you entered his dressing room, you realized you were the only ones in there. he closed the door behind you and showed you to the couch in the room, which was conveniently facing the mirror. ‘so what do you want to drink?’ Yuta asks, walking across the room to the small fridge in the corner. ‘I have beer, whiskey, vodka, wine…’ he says, rummaging through the little fridge. ‘tea or a glass of water would be nice…’ you reply, Yuta laughing at your response. ‘you’re really boring.’ he says, pouring himself some whiskey and putting the kettle on for your tea. ‘I have to drive home…’ you reminded him. he sits down next to you on the couch, handing you your tea. ‘thanks for supporting me tonight, I really appreciate it.’ he thanks you, turning himself slightly to face you. ‘not as much as the fans appreciated it though…’ you say, gesturing to his still naked torso. ‘oh sorry… am I making you uncomfortable?’ he asks sarcastically, placing his hands on his chest to cover himself up. you once again notice his hands and how attractive every vein running down his arms are. he notices you staring, the air becomes thick and you completely zone out. subconsciously you both move closer to one another, both of you trying to keep focus but you just end up saying weird shit to one another and without even thinking you’re on his lap.

your lips are centimeters apart, foreheads touching and your heavy, nervous breathing seals the deal. his lips meet yours as his hand travels up your neck to your hair and grips tightly, your hands cupping the sides of his face and his other hand making it’s way under your underwear. ‘we should stop…’ you say breathlessly in an attempt to potentially save your friendship. ‘no we don’t…’ Yuta replies kissing you harder than before, his tongue intertwining with yours (and your friendship leaving the door). he flips you over so that he is hovering over you on the couch, his hands lifting your shirt up and throwing it on the ground. your bare torso feels the cold sensation of his rings as his hands roam your body, snaking down to your pants. he quickly removes your pants and throws them to the side, his hands moving towards your core. you look up to see yourself naked in the reflection of the mirror, seeing only Yuta’s back and head. he moves down to your heat, his head between your thighs and all you can see is the filthy reflection of you two in the mirror. he starts eating you out, making it impossible to keep quiet. ‘let them hear you…’ he says, moving his fingers toward your entrance and entering two fingers. his tongue licking your clit and his fingers moving in and out of you got you in a trance. ‘Yuta, I’m close…’ you say heavily, earning a grin from him. ‘cum around these pretty fingers you like so much…’ he says, pushing in and out of you faster until your cumming and squirting all over his hands and face. ‘such a good girl…’ he says, wiping his face with his dry hand.

you hear his belt unbuckle, his pants falling slowly to the floor. you feel embarrassed all naked like this, especially in front of your (former) best friend. ‘fuck, you’re beautiful…’ he says, finally removing his underwear to reveal his dick. even his dick was pretty, you don’t know how someone can be this attractive. just looking at his bare body, hooded eyes, tattoos and piercings could feed your fantasies and make you cum. ‘you look so cute naked… we might have to do this more often so I could see how cute you can get’ he says, teasing your entrance with his dick. ‘stop teasing me, please…’ you manage to whimper. ‘what do you want me to do then?’ he asks devilishly, removing himself from your entrance. ‘I want you to fuck me…’ and before you could end the sentence, he was fucking you hard. the sounds echoing in the room as his dick slams in and out of you, you’re heavy panting adding to the atmosphere. his left hand moving to your neck, slightly choking you. the sensation arousing you even further, it made you smile even. his right holds your one thigh, pushing it against your body as he moves even faster than before… you were going insane. your toes were curling from the pleasure, you knew you weren’t gonna last any longer and neither was he. ‘I’m gonna cum…’ you moan softly, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second after he was looking at your body the entire time. ‘cum for me…’ he pants in your ear, his abdominal muscles contracting with every thrust. ‘fuck you feel so good…’ Yuta says, earning a grin from you. before you could even think of anything else to say, you reached your high again. cum pouring out of you, your body shaking from what just happened. Yuta slowly pulls out and watches the cum drip down onto the couch, the sight making him want more.

before you could gather your senses he flipped you over once again so that you were straddling him. he looked into your eyes as you were hovering over him, his lips meeting yours again. he moves his lips to your neck, then to your chest as he leaves marks all over your body. ‘turn around’ he says, signaling for you to turn around so that you were facing the mirror on top of him. you quickly face the other way, now looking at yourself in the mirror and Yuta’s hands crawling along the sides of your body, one moving to your neck, the other moving to your clit. he starts circling your clit while kissing your neck from the back, him looking at your sensual reflection as well. the moans coming from you filled the room (and the hallway) as his hand moved faster around your clit. you were close to climaxing but before you could Yuta removes his hand and places it on your thigh. he lifts you slightly over his dick and he starts thrusting into you from below, your body automatically syncing up with his thrusts. the sight of you bouncing on his dick made him feel a certain way, and him knowing you’re seeing yourself all ruined like this made him even more turned on. ‘look at how pretty you are, fucked raw…’ he whispers into your ear, your core clenching at his words. ‘I want you to see how cute you look when my cum leaks out of you…’ he says thrusting even harder as if it was even possible. the hand that was on your neck moved to your breast, teasing your nipple as you were so close to cumming for the third time that evening. ‘Yuta I can’t…’ you say breathlessly, you can’t hold it in anymore. you were reaching your high for the third time but Yuta didn’t stop thrusting in and out of you until you were a cumming, squirting mess. his dick hitting you so deep it felt like you were gonna break. when he finally pulls out of you, he takes your jaw in his hand and he forces you to look at your reflection in the mirror. he forced you to look at your fucked out face, shaking body, heaving chest and the cum running down your thighs. he gently lifts you up and places you down on the (not cum smeared part) couch. ‘see this is what happens when you compliment me!’ he says, giving you a kiss to the forehead. he went to the bathroom to go clean up and you were understandably confused and shocked. you gather your clothes that were on the floor and you quickly put them on. you look at the cup of tea on the table and you feel sorry for everything it just witnessed.

‘I should get going.’ you say as Yuta comes out of the bathroom. ‘Hey, wait…’ Yuta says, trying to stop you from leaving. ‘What?’ you ask, kinda confused and rattled by everything that just happened. you were expecting Yuta to end the friendship. you thought he wanted to cut all ties with you now that things were awkward as fuck. Yuta looked into your eyes and he asks you… ‘I was wondering… there is a new Sanrio store that opened and I was wondering if you’d like to go check it out with me?’

thanks for reading… I absolutely loved this request, we need more people like anon who asks and requests what society needs! this is inspired by my love for Yuta’s hands cause when I see them hands I started barking like a damn dog!

#nct 127 #nct smau #nct smut #nct yuta nakamoto #nct yuta x reader #yuta nakamoto #yuta nct #nct127 #nct #nctzen #nct yuta fic #nakamoto yuta smut #nct yuta smut #yuta #nakamoto yuta

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writingsfromhome · 2 months

Text

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it��s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

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#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #dos and donts #ahhh #i didn’t edit this too much it all kind of came out at once #so ignore any errors #hope this is fun to read #it was fun to write

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Text

You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city.

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas.

You missed it the past two years.

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles.

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston.

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck.

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding.

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it.

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines.

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you. ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner.

You heard him before you saw him.

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo.

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas.

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant.

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out.

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges.

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition.

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out.

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher.

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’

A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party. You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities.

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people.

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you.

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater.

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine.

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence.

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected.

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas.

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing.

‘’What do you mean?’’

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left.

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them.

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable.

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight.

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes.

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness.

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

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#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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joeys-babe · 3 months

Text

Joey B Blurbs: The Real MVP

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Summary: Flashforward. Joe wins MVP after an amazing comeback in the ‘24-25 season. In his speech, he has to thank the person who supports him like no other, the real MVP.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*NFL Honors for ‘24-’25 season*

After a hectic day of running the household alone, I settled on the couch with Tyson and Miles to watch the NFL Honors ceremony.

Joe had his name in the MVP running, and I couldn't be more proud of him.

Last season was less than stellar, with his calf strain causing him to miss camp and his season-ending injury serving unfinished business on a silver platter.

This season he showed the world who the fuck Joe Burrow was.

Not that he felt the need to, but Joe showed NFL viewers that he was worth every penny of his contract extension.

Throughout the ceremony, Tyson and Miles were scanning the audience for their Dad. They'd “helped” Joe pick out his outfit just a few days ago and were so excited to see him in it.

When it got to the MVP category, I held my breath and closed my eyes.

And the 2024 Most Valuable Player is…

My heart was beating out of my chest.

Joe Burrow!

Tyson and Miles stood up on the couch and started jumping up and down, and for once, I didn't get onto them about it.

“Daddy won!” - Tyson

“Daddy won!” - you repeated

My heart soared when Joe walked to the stage, feeling slightly nostalgic when I got deja vu about when he won the Heisman in college.

Joe started his speech by thanking his coaches, coordinators, and trainers before he began tearing up thanking his family.

My eyes matched Joe’s misty ones, just like they did at the Heisman years ago.

“But- I uhm need to thank the real MVP.” - Joe

When Joe said those words, I shook my head, thinking he was going to mention Kid Cudi or Spongebob.

“She wasn't able to be here tonight because she's too busy in Cincinnati being the best mom ever, but I would like to mention my wife. Thank you for always being my biggest cheerleader, y/n. You've been one of my biggest support systems since I was a scrawny senior in high school. I will always be grateful for everything you’ve done and continue to do that has made me the man and player that I am today. I'll admit, I was super nervous for tonight, and I called y/n in the bathroom. Her voice alone calmed me down, but the words gave me enough confidence to leave my hiding spot in the bathroom stall. Thank you for being my best friend, y/n. I love you more than life.” - Joe

Tears streamed down my face as I listened to his sweet words.

“Oh, and thanks for this award. Who Dey!” - Joe

With that, Joe left the stage and walked back to his seat, more in love than ever.

He'd never felt so happy.

When I heard my phone ding, I thought it would be Robin to point out Joe’s sweet words, but instead, it was Mr. MVP himself.

Did you watch my speech? :)

Yes. Currently crying. I love you so much, Mr. MVP.

I'll only be Mr. MVP if you'll be Mrs. MVP.

I’m not a player, though. 🤨

His next text gave me butterflies, it amazes me that his effect on me hasn't changed even after all of our years together.

Most valuable person, baby. 😁

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Authors note: short as heck but whatever

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed!

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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gretavanlace · 5 months

Text

Sugar II (part 5)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, angst, language, dirty talk, digital penetration, etc etc.

So sorry for the wait…I’ve been so busy and I’m scatterbrained as it is. I love you all and appreciate your patience as always! My lovelies, you all own my heart ❤️ Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, I’ll add my taglist tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m tipsy and in a turkey coma. xoxo

It’s early when your heavy eyes reluctantly drift open. Quiet. Silent. Save for the serene, rhythmic push and pull of his soft breath against the nape of your neck. In and out, in and out, like a whispered incantation sent to lull you into his placid waters.

Morning light is threatening to steal the darkness away, inching its way into the room, casting a muted, purple glow against the wall. You snuggle in closer to him and watch the moon prepare to fight the battle it wages ceaselessly. It loses to the sun again and again, and this morning will be no different.

How you wish the moon could win just this once. How you loathe the sun for refusing its slumber. How dare it steal this night away from you? How dare it force you to face the gravity of this life you’ve built without him? Of choice? Of pain either way?

Jake has insisted on sending the others along, promising he won’t be far behind. That he’ll take a car, or catch a short flight…vowing to appear on stage for sound check - the prodigal son returning to whichever arena is next on the list.

You hadn’t needed to hear the opposite end of the conversation last night to know that Josh couldn’t have been happy about it…but, even after all this time, you still know them both well enough to know that Jake’s heels were dug in and that Josh - knowing this, too - wouldn’t fight him too viciously.

“You awake?” His voice, gorgeously gruff with sleep, hushes against your skin just before his lips find a place there with a delicate kiss.

A hum rasps out of you as you stroke your fingers down his forearm, not trusting yourself to speak over the lump pulsing in your throat.

If he understands the reason for your quiet, he doesn’t let on, “God, how fucking perfect is this? You smell so good.”

He trails off, nestling in against you as his arms tighten their hold, tucking you right in until you can feel the drum of his beautiful heart tapping a steady beat against your shoulder blade.

“Do you remember the first time we woke up next to each other?” His lips graze across your bare shoulder gingerly as he whispers to you, calming your mind with his soothing cadence.

“Yes,” how could you ever forget? “It was the morning you told me you loved me. Then we went downstairs and Josh shoveled pancakes onto our plates until we were sick.”

His hand disappears beneath the sheets to feather along your breast..tickling over your nipple until it pebbles, “That was a beautiful morning with my beautiful girl, but it wasn't the first.”

Confused, you sift through memories rapidly. So many of them, and so many of them him…flashes of his face, so stunning and serene in his devotion, his voice, his laugh. Darkened eyes devouring you from above, owning you like a deity you are hopeless to deny, his hands, his heart, his love.

Suddenly, there it is - crystal clear as the spring you had visited that long ago weekend. The memory brings a nostalgic smile playing across your lips. You had all been so young then. So naive of what was to come. Untouchable laughter echoing off trees that had been standing, solemn and still, long enough to know it wouldn’t last. “The UP…camping at Indian Lake. You forgot your tent when we were packing up, and Josh had the most fun making fun of you about it because—“

He interrupts with a spot on impression of his twin, “Who the fuck goes camping and forgets their tent? That’s like—“

You chime in as well, “Going to the vet without your dog.”

“I woke up beside you and I just…” he falls silent for a beat and then marches on with a shaky breath, “You were sleeping so peacefully, so sweetly, like an angel - and he was out there by the fire causing chaos and frying eggs. I laid there beside you and pretended you were mine. Made up a little life for us in my head. We had three girls and a cat who sunbathed at their feet during tea parties in the backyard. They looked just like you. I loved you, and you loved me back.”

“Tell me more.” You urge so softly, you’ve hardly made a sound. “Tell me about our life.”

He cuddles in closer, cheek nuzzling into your tangled hair. “I buy you the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen. And it has a great big covered porch where we like to sit in the evenings. We hold hands on the swing and watch the girls make up elaborate games with the fireflies. Our youngest is the bossiest, and you say she reminds you of Josh. There’s a place in the side yard. I leveled it out just after we moved in so you could plant a garden, and I help you harvest tomatoes in the evenings because you always plant too many.”

“I do not plant too many,” your laugh is gentle, wistful. “I make salsa for your stupid brothers.”

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding along as he continues stroking over your chest, abandoning your breast for the thrum of your heart beneath his palm. “You make salsa for my stupid brothers. The girls complain and bargain for time when we tell them it’s time for baths, but you step in and order them inside because I can’t tell them no.”

“You’re no help at all.” You sigh, sinking into the soft domesticity of the picture he is painting just for you.

“Yes, I am.” He argues, kissing along your jaw. “I help with baths, and then I play them all the prettiest songs I’ve ever written for you until their eyes are hazy enough to drift away. And then I hold your hand some more down the hall, and I close our bedroom door, and I lay you down and remind you of how much I love you until you sound like all those pretty songs I’ve written for you.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the girlish giggle that floats off your tongue. He turns you into liquid bliss so effortlessly, speaking to you like a lullaby until warm, worshipful devotion swells in your chest, leaving room for nothing but Jake.

“Yeah.” His tongue travels over the shell of your ear as he breathes promises into it, twisting and tightening your belly way down deep “And sometimes I remind you slow and sweet…sometimes I hold you like bone china and move gently, and softly, until you’re shaking and fluttering around me, all silk and velvet walls like flower petals. And other times, I give it to you nasty. Fuck you filthy, and dirty, and hard so you’ll remember who my pretty little fuck doll is…and you take my cock like a whore with my hand over your mouth so you don’t wake the neighbors.”

His touch remains far too innocent for the words dripping from his lips like salacious prayers. It’s still playing softly over your heart - perhaps just to feel the quickening of its beats, perhaps just because he has missed it so.

“Touch me.” you shiver as the plea rolls off your tongue, anticipating the way he will give into you, and the way it will feel when he does.

“I am touching you.” He’s burying his face in your hair, breathing you in, filling his lungs with everything he has missed so desperately.

“Don’t tease me.” There’s a pout edging its way into your tone, and he is positively weak for it. He’d like to think that you have never sounded this way for anyone else. He’d like to believe that he has never heard you sound this way…that you have never begged for him with such soft urgency on your tongue.

“Shh, sugar,” he soothes, and the way it slows your pulse like a drug…well, you can almost believe that nothing has ever been wrong with your world. You can almost believe that you’ve lived all of your lifetimes here in this room with him, wrapped up in the sheets, safe and so, so loved. “you know I’m gonna take care of my girl. You just close your eyes, baby, alright? Just close your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter shut as though he has willed them so, and then his fingers are winding the gentlest trail down your body, slipping like hot silk down your stomach, and then to your thigh to pull it to the side, opening you up for him.

“I think about this all the time.” he confesses, sweeping his fingertips against your entrance and then over your clit once his touch is slick and warm. “Lying with you. Talking with you in bed the way we used to. Feeling your hair tickle my cheek. Watching you sigh for me, wet and aching for me, for what I can give you…nobody else.”

“Nobody else, Jake,” you nod feverishly as he begins drawing delicate circles over your swollen clit. “Nobody else.”

“Do you think about me, too?” his mouth hovers over your pulse, tracing an S for his sugar against it. “When you’re all alone?”

His touch is picking up in pace, those goddamed fingers of his that seem to somehow vibrate, they know every inch of you…how to touch you. How to take you apart. How to play you. You are his favorite instrument.

“Yes,” it stutters out of you, inarticulate and clumsily, but he loves it all the more for it.

“Yeah?” there it is, that smug air in his tone that makes your entire body throb with want. “Does my sweet little girl touch herself when no one is around to see? Does my sugar call my name when she slips her hand between these pretty thighs?”

“Jake, please…” your grip has found its way around his wrist, tight and sure, to keep his hand where you so badly need it.

“Stop begging, baby,” he croons, pressing kisses against your temple, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you cum, soft and gentle, ‘cause you’re my beautiful fucking girl. And then you’re going to ride my cock filthy, fuck doll.”

A sound that you ought to be ashamed of claws its way out of your chest, feral and furious in your need as you rock your hips into his hand. His pace never falters, never varies, as he whispers praise and vulgarities into your ear, skilled fingers swirling and swirling and swirling over your clit until you’re right fucking there.

“Come on, pretty girl…” more kisses to your temple as adulation tumbles from his lips endlessly. “Give it to me, sugar, give it to me.”

It spreads itself out in your body like a heavy swallow of red wine. unfurling inside you like euphoric heat, curling your toes and prickling your scalp as it trips up your spine. It’s so delicate and light, his touch like a feather against your clit as it trembles and twitches…and just like always, he knows, and works you through it softly, gingerly, reverently, until the tide pulls back.

“You made a mess, baby.” he teases, whispering into the crook of your neck with a smile on his lips and his fingers now curling across the pillow of his tongue.

“Whose fault is that?” you pant back, working hard to chase down your breath.

“I’ll own making a mess of your pretty cunt any day, sweetheart…any fucking day.”

You roll your eyes without much conviction, for you adore his obscene prose “Poetic.”

He rolls onto his back, tugging you along for the ride until you are perched above and straddling him.

He looks like a fallen, arcane angel beneath you, with his hair snarled and knotted against the pillow, eyes clouded with lust and darkened with blown pupils, lips pink and tumid - parted and pretty.

“You’re beautiful.” you shake your head in wonder. He is exquisite. Ethereal. Flawless. Precious.

He shakes his head right back, cupping your cheek, “You’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful sugar. I have loved you forever and I will love you always.”

With your cheeks heating under his awestruck scrutiny, you bite down on your lip coyly…you haven’t forgotten that he likes a hint of innocence now and then. “Did I hear you mention something about riding your cock filthy, Jakey? Or did I misunderstand?”

His palm is wrapped around your throat in a breath, pulling your mouth down to his. He licks against your tongue with a menacing hum. “You wanna ride my cock, baby? You wanna fuck me dirty while I lie back and watch you do all the work like my good little girl?”

A shiver shimmies your shoulders as your gaze flutters away abashedly, inexplicably shy.

“Aw,” it isn’t taunting, he sounds genuinely starstruck by the bashful blush coloring the apples of your cheeks. “Look at my sweetheart. Does it still make you a little soft when I tell you what a good girl you are for me? You like that?”

You nod, and this time, when your teeth sink into your bottom lip, it isn’t contrived.

“I know, sugar…” he pets at your face like you’re fragile, made of glass and dear to his heart. “It always has. You are, you know? You’re my very good girl and I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world. Nothing even comes close.”

Emboldened and driven half crazy by the love he is wringing from his heart, you rise up on your knees and issue an order, which doesn’t make you a very good girl at all. “Put it in.”

A huff of wanton breath escapes him, and then, with one hand wrapped around his thick cock, and the other digging into your hip, he pulls you down and buries himself inside you.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” it’s a hitching groan that rattles in his chest. “Look at you, wrapped up sweet and pink around me. Pretty as a picture, aren’t you, baby? Taking this cock. So fucking tight. You feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you can’t manage much else as your nails dig into his chest for purchase, head tipping back as you begin to ride him fast and hard, forgoing an easy lead up…you need him too badly.

His tip, so thick and perfect, begins spoiling over the sweetest spot inside you when he angles your hips…knocking against it until the air is punching from your lungs with every downward swivel of your hips.

“That’s the spot right there, isn’t it, sugar?” he voice, rasping and strangled with pleasure drags you closer and closer. “Right there, huh? That’s where my girl needs my cock…right fucking there.”

“Yes! Right there…” you repeat, blathering on with your hands on your own tits, twisting and tugging at your nipples as your thighs burn and scream for mercy you don’t care to give them. “Right there right there right there…”

“Yeah? You want it right there?” his thumb drops to your clit as he drinks you in, savoring you as you work yourself into a frenzy above him. “You take it right there, pretty girl…you just fucking take it.”

You can feel him twitching and straining inside your clenching cunt, and you know desperate little spurts of precum must be steadily leaking from his cock…the thought only serves to make you coil around him even more viciously.

“Sugar,” there’s a frantic edge coloring his tone now. He’s close. “Please, baby…you’re squeezing me…so fucking…fuck, fuck…ease up, sweetheart, please. Relax that sweet little cunt for me. Baby, baby, baby…” he thrashes his head back and forth against the pillow, brow furrowed and tipped up as though he is anguished.

“No.” you’re wild and panting, sweating and clawing at his chest with unhinged need. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh god…” it hushes out of him, winded and ragged, like he’s afraid he won’t make it long enough to get you there. “C’mon, pretty girl, come on. Right on my cock. Soak it, sweetheart. I want you all fucking over me.”

“Fuck me back,” you’re clutching at his shoulders now, scrambling for purchase against his drenched, glistening skin. “Hard. Fuck me back.”

His hips begin driving up to meet you, hard and fast, slamming his cock into you over and over through gritted teeth and gutteral grunts of pleasure and agony as he fights his own release.

Arms up suddenly, he curls them violently around your shoulders, holding you still against his lap as best he can, but you continue to grind into him, working yourself back and forth over his cock, chasing and chasing and chasing that end you so badly need.

“Hold fucking still,” grits out through clenched teeth as your lips press and sway against his sweating forehead, “I’m gonna cum, sugar. Don’t move, don’t move!”

His palm lands hard against your ass in punishment for your disobedience, gripping and pulling at it, but it merely spurs you on.

“You said you wanted me to ride your cock filthy,” your words are airy puffs of taunting breath. “so fucking take it Jakey, take it.”

He doubles over into you, burying his face between your breasts and crying out into their rounded softness as he lets go inside you, painting you warm and wetter than you already were…biting and sucking, consuming you as if he wants to swallow you whole.

It’s your name, whimpering and keening out of him like a psalm that sends you tumbling along right behind him with a gushing pulse and a shaking inward pull of breath that exhales with his name to match your own still lingering on his lips.

A strange calm finds you both as you struggle to breathe wrapped up tight and tangled together in the ruined sheets and humid air. But it is a familiar calm…one that so often crept in between the two of you after you had lost yourselves the way you’ve just lost yourselves.

“No one,” his fingers tap down your spine and linger in the dimples that grace the base, “could ever make me feel the way you make me feel, sugar. No one. Ever.”

“Jake.” you sigh, and he hears a thousand words inside it.

“I know, baby.” he’s stroking through your hair now, pacifying you so all of that feverish energy will seep from your veins gently. “I know.”

The sun has bullied its way into the sky fully, washcloth he so lovingly swept over you now rinsed and folded over the bathroom sink, glass of water he carried in, sipped at and now lazily dripping condensation onto the nightstand.

Top sheet pulled over the fitted sheet in a half-hearted attempt to rectify the wrongs inflicted towards the bed, your bodies are twisted up below the soft, generic duvet.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He whispers, tracing his fingers along the bridge of your nose. “I can feel it.”

“What happens now, Jake?’ You stroke his nose right back. “I’m just going to walk away from my life and follow you around the world? Like nothing ever happened?”

“Yes.” He says it like it could all be just that easy, and how you wish that were so.

“It doesn’t work that way.” He’s a dreamer. Always has been.

“So, tell me how it works then, sugar.” He pulls you into a blink of a kiss. “You go back to him, and I go back to misery and that’s it for you and I? We wake up every morning for the rest of our lives wishing things were different? Aching for each other? You tell me how that makes fucking sense.”

“Because this is real life, Jake.” Do you even believe your own bullshit? You have to, right? “This isn’t some pretty little story you’re telling. We aren’t picking tomatoes in the garden.”

God, how you hate yourself.

“We could be though.” His promises would be so lovely to slip away into…if only it could be that simple. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “It could be so simple, sugar. None of this other shit matters. We matter.”

He can’t be argued with, so instead, you simply nestle your cheek against his chest and linger in this time you have left with him.

“Will you at least leave me your number before you go? So I can call to say hello every once in a while?”

He’s giving in far too easily. He’s lying. You know he is, and he knows it just as well. He isn’t going away, and he doesn’t plan on giving up.

He has decided to stand his ground this time around. This time, for you, he has decided to fight…

and god help anyone who tries to stand in his way.

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