#also??? hot take but the t-shirt look in the last 2 photos is better than the look she’s modeling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverrstarrr · 3 years

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Hello, today I am starting a Eren x black reader fanfic. And don't worry, yo girl over here is Nigerian😋😋 I do plan to put smut into it but I've never written smut before so please be easy on about that part! (The reader and Eren are both 18, their first year in University.)

Y/n L/n. Daniyah

Dylan. Jason

Yume

Normal Girl<3

Chapter one:

You love the way I pop my top. Or love how I lose my cool

Music was playing in the background on a loud Bluetooth speaker as you were preparing yourself for the day. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you take off your bonnet, your long black box braids flowing down to your hips. Which cost a bitch. You were cleaning up your face and doing a causal face routine. You grabbed your makeup bag from under the bottom cabinet and began applying. Doing your eyebrows, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipgloss. Placing the brown foundation on your skin to cover up the bumps that were on your face, contour and more. You placed your false eyelashes on, ruffling up your hair a bit more. After a good 15 minutes, you were ready for the day.

Or love how I look at you. Say why?

The song Normal girl by SZA continued to play as you hummed to the rhythm of the song. Finishing up laying down your edges, you gave yourself a small smile in the mirror, feeling hella confident in your looks. Even though you were self conscious, you had this thing when you believed you that you're the most ugliest bitch in the world, next thing you're in love with yourself. It was currently 8 am in the morning, class was starting by 8:45.

You wanted to freshen up before you left for school. Your roommate you shared a dorm with was currently out grabbing you guys breakfast. You guys both settled for Dunkin' since their drink prices were reasonable and good unlike starbucks. You left the bathroom and grabbing your bonnet on the way out, switching the light off. You tossed the hair net on your bed as you went over to your dresser.

For your affection, tryna be down. No fighting and no stopping, Stick around

Oh shit, this was your part. You started to sing to yourself, not ACTUALLY singing it but you know, saying the lyrics.

"Wish I was the type of girl you take over to mama! The type of girl, I know my daddy, he'd be proud of. Yeah, be proud of."

You were singing your heart out at this point, who doesn't enjoy SZA?!

Not to mention, you relate so much to the song. Since you weren't America's "normal girl". You didn't have Blue eyes, blonde hair, or white pale skin. You were a beautiful brown skin woman, with black curly hair and brown eyes. Not to mention you had 4c hair. But it wasn't a bad thing in your opinion, you loved your hair because at the end of the day, you knew it was long ass hell.

A bzzt sound came from your dresser, instantly your grabbed your phone and unlocked it. It was your roommate, Yume. Yume was a pale skin girl, with brown eyes and long black hair. She was mixed. Her mother was Japanese and her dad was white. Yume was pretty outgoing and bold, a lot of people on campus knew who she was. She was a party person. She still managed to get decent grades by that, you meant that she crammed at the last second and got a C+ or above. Opening up messages, you read the ones from Yume.

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

Attachment: 1 photo

Look what I gooottt😩❗❗

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

y/n liked a photo

Girl, hurry up and bring the food😭

over here posing with the dunkin' bag, goofy😭😭

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

I KNOW, IM ON MY WAY

I'm getting in the car now, see you later hot melatonin queen, wakanda queen 👸🏾 remember BLM✊🏻❤

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

LMAAAOOO, I HATE YOUUU

GET TF ON DAMN COLONIZER 😕

You began laughing, using your hand to cover your mouth. You left messages and began scrolling through your other social media. First you check snapchat, it was a bunch of your friends and people who added you, leaving hearts under your post story. Since you posted a little selfie. You had on a cute graphic t shirt that hugged your upper body and showed your stomach. You didn't have a flat stomach but a little tummy. You had on faded blue jeans that rested at your hips. Even though you didn't have a flat stomach, your curvy body and a dump trunk made up for it. You had a few necklaces resting on your chest as well with a few rings on your finger.

I wish I was a normal girl, oh my. How do I be? How do I be a lady?

You clicked on instagram. You had a decent 10k followers. You were considered one of those pretty aesthetic pinterest girl, especially because of your outfit ideas. You look through your feed for a bit, then you came across yume's page. You scroll through her post and liked her recent. You checked the comments and all the guys fawning over her, it wasn't anything new but you didn't expect this one person. They left a black heart under their post and yume replied to it. You clicked on the profile just to check if she had a secret lover and she wasn't telling you. The username was "eyeager45". Surprisingly, he had 18k followers.

Normal girl, oh

I wish I was a normal girl.

I'll never be, no, never be uh

This shocked you, not his follower count but the fact your roomie got him commenting hearts?! Nah, you need to find out. You scrolled through his feed, looking at his photos, he didn't have a lot of post. But damn he was fine. He had long brown hair that rested on his shoulders, his eyes were a teal color but you were still stuck deciding if it was blue or green. Most of his photos, he had it tied into a sloppy bun, a few strands stood out flopping over his forehead. Without thinking, your dumbass liked his photo.

"I-" you said. Before you can unlike the photo, yume barges in with breakfast. It was already 8:20, classes were starting.

"There was traffic on the way and since it's rush hour, everyone and their crew was getting coffee."

Yume placed you guys drinks and food on a nearby round table. She quickly ran to the bathroom to pee, closing the door behind her. You placed your phone back on your dresser and went over to grab your drink. You took a sip, It seem like this time yume got your (f/d) correct and not just getting a random flavor she sees on the menu. Opening up the bag, you grab your (f/f) along with the other food that was apart of your meal. You went back over to the dresser to grab your phone, then back to the small table. You sat down on the small couch that was close to the table and started eating.

"Hey! Make sure you got your own shit and not eating mine by mistake" yume was washing her hands in the bathroom.

You nodded your head with a "mmm". You were digging in, eating fast because class was starting soon. Coming out of the bathroom, yume whistled looking at your outfit. She always gassed you up & was your number one fan.

"Look at you~ all cute and shit" she ruffled through the bag, grabbing her donut already taking a bite out of it then her breakfast sandwich as she sat down next to you. Both of you guys were munching as if the food was running away, like slow tf down. You took out your phone to take a quick insta video of your food and yume. She was taking a sip of her drink when you pointed your camera on her, she did a quick deuces, which made both of you laugh a bit. You quickly added it to your story and tagged her. You went back and forth with your drink and food, until it was finish. You still had a some coffee left but the food? Gone.

You and yume shared an apartment together. It was close to the campus and it was cheaper. Dorms costed a load for no reason. Most of the time they had no kitchen and barley any room other than for the beds. You met yume during high-school but you guys weren't that close but still kept in touch. Summer break came around and you guys so happened to have the same job. It was the best summer of your life, you were really greatful for meeting yume. She was also the first to offer you to share an apartment together since you both were attending the same university.

Both of guys were majoring in different things but that was fine. Yume was planning on becoming a nurse while you were in the cosmetic industry. It's been a dream ever since you were young. Grabbing your mother's makeup bag and just smearing it all over your face by the age of twelve. You remember the first time you did your makeup and showed your mom.

She laughed so hard and took you into the bathroom to fix it up. Slowly you started getting better and better at makeup. You had your own YouTube channel by the time but it wasn't a lot of subscribers, about 3k. Now you were 19 and had a 500k subscribers who supported you all the way. Being in the beauty industry on YouTube was a hassel because there was always drama here and there but you were never included. More like a "I just sit back and observe" type shit.

The apartment you guys shared was pretty big. You had your own room and bathroom, the same with yume. Yume parents were wealthy since her mom was a dentist and her dad was a doctor. Yume never made any real friends. They always ended up leeching off of her and her money, one of the main reason she kept distance from you and others during high school but the summer brought you guys together.

It was the beginning of the first semester, you had your first class today. You were excited but that didn't stop the anxiety creeping up your spine. What if you didn't make a good expression, or did some stupid shit and fell.

"Hellllooooo, y/n. You good?"

yume was waving her hand in your face. She was laughing at bit because of your face expression while you were in la-la-land.

You nudged her lightly and giggled back.

"Stoop, leave me alone. I'm just nervous about my first day"

Yume grabbed the empty bags and wrappers that were on the table, walking to the kitchen to threw them away. She had on a cute oversized black sweatshirt with a white collar. It went well with her white tennis skirt and beige color platforms. Yume was 5'6 but looked 5'7. She was really pretty in your opinion. It was surprising she didn't have a boyfriend.

"Girl pleaseee, you'll be fine. You're pretty and you have a cute laugh—who wouldn't fall for you?" Yume continued cheesying. She went over to the doorsteps and grabbed a pair of pair of black air Jordan 1 retros(the high ones). She walked back over and tossed them on the ground next to you.

"You aren't wrong about that...but you know I literally don't know what to say after 'hi'. I don't know how people do it, it gets so awkward after that point."

"Shit...you're right...well since we're in college now, we can ask others about their majors and stuff but I rather not hear about a guy talking about how much he likes the human body system."

Loosing up the laces, you slip your foot in and began tying the strings—you repeated the same process with the other foot. You grabbed your coffee and did a quick stretch before heading over to your dresser. You picked up your phone and keys, your bag was next to the door, you'll grab on your way out.

Yume grabbed her jacket and you did the same.

"How many people do you think we'll be in my class?" She asked

Since she was majoring in nursing. You titled your head up and started to think.

"Maybe around 335 people."

You zipped up your jacket and placed your phone in the pocket. Opening up your airpods, you placed one in your ear.

"Pssshh, that's an underestimate. I think around 400 or more"

Yume opens the door, tossing her bag over her shoulder— you grabbed yours also. Stepping out the apartment, she stood by the side as you locked the door. You pulled your phone out and played your playlist. It was time to start the day.

pt 2

#x reader #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #anime #eren yeager #eren x black reader #x black reader #aot x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren yeager x y/n

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nbrook29 · 3 years

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Kiss or Slap part 2

part 1

Robbe stands in front of the mirror, eyes critical as he assesses the forest green shirt, plucking at the collar that’s digging uncomfortably into his neck. It’s not like the shirt is ugly; the problem is that it’s not and that it looks a bit too formal. But then again, Robbe wouldn’t know for sure since he’s never been on a real date before. He’s feeling a bit helpless in that area, to be honest.

He has a half a mind to text the boys and ask for advice, but just as the thought passes his brain he scoffs because it’s just silly; the only thing he would gain from doing that would be merciless teasing for weeks on end. Thanks, but no thanks.

Sighing, he glances in the direction of the hall, debating with himself whether asking for Zoe’s opinion is the right option here, but deep down he knows that otherwise, he’s gonna be standing i front of that mirror agonizing over his appearance for the next twenty minutes if someone doesn’t talk some sense into him.

The way Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise when he enters her room lets him know that yes, he is overdressed.

“Too much?” He scrunches up his face, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, I mean... you look really nice, but, um, maybe go for a t-shirt instead?” Zoe suggests, looking almost apologetic. Robbe hovers in the threshold, still not totally convinced.

“Yeah?”

“You clearly feel uncomfortable in that, plus he’s not taking you to an expensive restaurant or something so I think you should just go for chill,” she pauses, trying to remember something. “That pink t-shirt you have? You look really cute in it! You should wear that.”

“I don’t wanna look cute, Zoe, I wanna look hot,” Robbe blurts out, pink blooming on his cheeks when Zoe coos at him in that annoying way she always does and he immediately covers his face. “Stop.”

She giggles at his embarrassment, patting his arm consolingly as she pretends to give him a once over. “You do look hot, no matter what shirt you’re wearing.”

“Yuck, that sounds weird coming from you.” Robbe fake-gags and gets a smack on his chest. “I’m outta here, thanks.” Before he manages to close the door, Zoe catches his arm and shoots him a comforting smile.

“And calm down. He’s already into you, he won’t care what you’re wearing, Robbe.”

It’s easier said than done. Ever since he woke up, he’s been a giddy, anxious, yet excited mess, butterflies flying rampant in his stomach, fingers drumming absent-mindedly on the nearest surface, and he’s-

Well.

He’s been kinda freaking out.

Somehow (he has no idea how), he managed to keep his cool during that faithful afternoon a week ago when a boy came up to him with a dumb YouTube challenge, he’d even call himself flirty and bold.

He’s not so sure he’ll be able to provide a repeat performance tonight. Not with that particular charming smile directed at him, almost making him whimper because no one should have the right to be that handsome. At the time, the infatuation was laced with disappointment and anger so Robbe guesses that’s what helped him keep his cool.

Only to melt into a pile of goo minutes later when Sander’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment over what popped on his phone screen.

Bambie eyes

Robbe smiles at the memory, trying to keep it small and not look like a psychopath that’s grinning to himself for no reason. It proves to be difficult though, those damn butterflies not easing out when an image of Sander combing his fingers through his longish bleached strands pops into his mind, uninvited, but oh so welcome if Robbe’s being honest.

Back in his bedroom, he fishes out the pink t-shirt from the drawer, sending a thank you to the past Robbe who finally did his laundry last Wednesday. His comfort level is up immediately after he takes the green shirt off and pulls the pink one over his head; the material doesn’t dig in anywhere, and it’s just... him. He doesn’t feel like a clown anymore.

A quick look at his watch and he curses under his breath. If he doesn’t want to be late, he needs to leave in five minutes tops. It’s probably better this way since it means less time for freaking out. Once he sprays a bit of cologne on his clothes and grabs his wallet, he gives himself one last look in the mirror, fingers attempting to tame his curls at least a little, but it proves to be a lost cause. As usual. His hair just has a mind of its own. He doesn’t let himself obsess too much about it though, and as he closes the door behind the flatshare his mind wanders to two weekends ago, the corners of his lips twitching on their own.

“You look like an angel with those curls. I should get you a halo or s’mthing.”

He’s in his personal space all of a sudden and as Sander’s breath grazes his face, Robbe’s own breath stutters, but the freakout has no time to breakthrough on his features because Sander’s eyes swivel up, glazed with alcohol as he tugs gently at one of the brown strands.

“I really like ‘em, you know? They’re so... silky. And pretty.” A lightbulb goes on in his head, his lips widening in a smile. “You’re so pretty.”

Drunken confessions never really seemed particularly sweet to him, but with Sander gazing at him like he hung the moon and the stars, his jaw slightly open as if in wonder, it was difficult for Robbe to feel anything else than fondness, heart fluttering in his chest, so enamoured with the boy with white hair that it would have blushed if it could.

That white hair and green eyes have been the main stars of his dreams ever since.

Okay. That’s not entirely true. There were glimpses before that. After all, Sander had been the first thing he noticed at the Academie. But at the time, he had only been his looks to Robbe, golden skin and intriguing smirks, face scattered with moles and legs for days.

And lips. Lips that looked soft like a rose petal.

He had dreamed about those lips a lot then.

He still can’t believe his brain holds the memory of kissing them with his own.

Again. Peak boldness for him.

And yet, he’s so nervous now, walking fast-paced to the nearest tram stop, praying his chaotic energy won’t make him look like an idiot once he’s faced with Sander again. His only saving grace, the only reason the full on freakout seems to be kept at bay is the reminder that even though Sander is way out of his league, he’s also a bit of a dork, and that honestly makes Robbe feel better.

He’s a hot dork though.

But a dork nonetheless.

Deep down Robbe hopes he’s gonna become his dork.

The city passes behind the window in a whirlwind of colors, creating the perfect background for him to get lost in his thoughts, daydreaming to the sounds of the playlist crafted specifically for him, courtesy of Sander. As Bowie sings about absolute beginners, a notification ping pulls him back from his musings, lips smiling on their own when he sees Sander posted a photo.

And what a photo it is, fuck.

A part of his face, edges smudged with shadows leaving only his eye in focus, dark eyebrow curtained a little with wet bleached strands, everything in black and white aesthetics because Sander rarely does colors, Robbe came to find out.

With eyes completely open

But nervous all the same

He wonders if the lyrics relate to their date or it’s just his wishful thinking.

Quick fingers like the photo and then take a screenshot of his own Spotify to send it to him. Robbe doesn’t have to wait long for the reply, a string of “🤯” blowing up his phone followed by “I’m so proud 🤧”, which again confirms that Sander is, indeed, a dork.

Robbe shoots him a “😂” and scrolls up a bit to check the address again.

Robbe: I watched the video

Robbe: It was cool 😎

Sander: Oh yeah?

Robbe: But somebody cut me out of it 🤔🙄

Sander: I told them to, it was too personal 😌

Robbe: Oh 🙃

Sander: + You're too pretty for our dumb videos 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: 🙈 stop

Sander: You are 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: You're making me blush 🙊

Sander: Well good, you're cute when your cheeks are all pink 😏

Robbe: 🤪

Sander: But you're always cute so 🤷🏼‍♂️

Robbe: Okay stop haha

Sander: 😎

Robbe: Thank you tho 😊

Sander: You're welcome x

Sander: Now go to sleep, I need you to be rested for tomorrow!

Robbe: Tell me where we're going 🥺

Sander: Nope

Robbe: Please 🥺

Sander: Nope 😌

Robbe: How should I know you're not gonna kidnap me or sth 🤔

Sander: Robin! I would never! 😟😟

Robbe: Robin?

Sander: Yeah

Sander: You like it? :)

Robbe: I think so :)

Sander: Good 😌

Sander: Oranje Street, that's all you need to know

Sander: Goodnight Bambi Robin 🦌😏

Robbe: Shdjskahaggfdsk 🙈🙈

Sander: Hehe

Sander: 😚

Robbe: 😊

The Robin part pulls another involuntary grin out of him again, the jitters in his stomach intensifying, but now they’re more anticipatory than nervous. He checks his hair in his selfie camera, running a hand through it to mess it up a little just when his stop comes.

The neighborhood is busy with the Friday rush and he has trouble finding white hair in the crowd from where he’s leaning on the lantern. Swaying awkwardly he keeps looking around, feeling his stress levels raising with each second and telling himself to get a fucking grip.

“Hey, Robin.”

His poor heart just can’t catch a break today.

Jumping a foot above the ground before swiveling around to smack Sander’s chest, the first thing he sees is his toothy grin, face smug at almost giving Robbe a heart attack.

“Asshole.” His grumble is all for show, the corners of his mouth pulling up when Sander presses a soft hello kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna scare you.” He could win awards for least sincere apologies ever, but Robbe would lie to himself if he said he didn’t find his playfulness attractive. Also, he’s still trying to get his heartbeat under control that has less to do with actual scare and more with the warm breath grazing his ear and the fanthom feel of lips on his cheek.

“Sure you didn’t.”

Sander chuckles at his deadpan face that lets him know Robbe knows he’s full of shit. Raising his arms in capitulation, he says another sorry before giving him a not so subtle once over, his features softening.

“You look really pretty.”

His voice sounds uncharacteristically shy, Robbe notices, and he keeps biting his lip nervously. This sudden shyness looks exceptionally endearing on him.

Eyeing his t-shirt critically, he cocks his brow at Sander, hand scratching his head in a self-conscious move. “Thank you. It’s nothing special though.”

“Then I guess it’s just you,” Sander replies, shrugging matter-of-factly, and keeps giving him that charming smile that weakens Robbe’s knees.

But he still rolls his eyes on him, snorting as he mutters “smooth” to which Sander pretends to hold his chest dramatically, swearing it’s not a line and that he’s being honest.

“Okay, okay, let’s say I believe you,” Robbe gives in after being defeated with a strong case of puppy eyes. “Now come on, tell me where we’re going.”

The faux-serious expression on Sander’s face melts into a full of promise smirk. “Prepare to be mind blown!”

And then he takes off, firing a wink over his shoulder at Robbe who’s gaping at him, flabbergasted. This mixture of confidence and shyness taking turns emanating from Sander has a peculiar effect on him, making him follow the boy without another question. He’s intrigued, curious to find out what’s underneath this cockiness that Robbe has a feeling is all for show, a cover up, but for what he has no clue.

They fall into an easy conversation on the way to their destination, interrupted with a string of Robbe’s guesses as to what that destination is and Sander shooting him down everytime, his smile getting fonder with each pout directed at him. So far it’s been way less awkward than Robbe feared, familiar almost, safe, melting away the anxious lump in his stomach. The good-natured teasing reminding Robbe of his relationship with Zoe or Milan, only the furtive yet lingering glances they keep shooting at each other when they think the other is not looking the sign of this being more than just a friendly hangout.

“Any plans for the Eenvoud sequel?” They’re crossing the street when Sander asks the question, tongue in cheek, which makes Robbe scowl in disdain. Even though internally he’s pleased Sander went and looked him up online. He was less pleased with the teasing that ensued a few days ago.

Sander: I had no idea

Robbe: ?

Sander: That I'm going on a date with a star

Robbe: 😂 what

Sander: Music star 😏

Sander: Or should I say

Sander: Dance star 🤔

Robbe: Oh fuck

Sander: You're v e r y talented Robbe IJzermans

Robbe: Shut uuuuuup

Sander: 😂

Robbe: You weren't supposed to see that 😭

Sander: Why not? You're so cute in it 😌

Robbe: 🙈

Robbe: Please don't hold it against me

Sander: Never :)

Robbe: You're gonna hold it against me aren’t u

Sander: A bit :D

Robbe: 🥺

Sander: But in a loving way!

Robbe: Guess I have to now go and find blackmail material on your channel 😌

Sander: As if you hadn't already 😏

Omg you're so full of yourself 🙄

Sander: 😛

Robbe: Should I be expecting hoards of fans throwing themselves at you when we're out?

Sander: Haha no

Sander: Maybe a few ;)

Robbe: Great, now I'm even more nervous :(

Sander: Why are you nervous? 🥺

Sander: Are you nervous about our date?

Robbe: Well um

Robbe: A bit?

Sander: I'm nervous too

Sander: But that's because I wanted to go out with you since I saw you on campus the first day

Robbe: I wanted that too

Sander: Oh 😌

Robbe: Yeah :)

“Fuck off,” he barks out a laugh, shoving him without much force once they’re back on the sidewalk. Sander pretends to be offended with the attack, huffing and shaking his head, but then bumps him with his hip all the same, smug when Robbe splutters in indignance in turn.

“Keep this up and I’m gonna rethink my forgiveness.” Robbe’s tone is lofty, even if his eyes scream he’s just teasing, an attempt to rile Sander up.

The boy’s eyes widen comically, hand flying to his chest. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Robin.”

There’s that nickname again, making his breath catch again, and the only response he can manage now is a flirty smile, or at least something that is supposed to look like it.

The afternoon heat subsides on their way to Sander’s mysterious place, but Robbe’s still glad he left that green long-sleeved shirt at home when they slow down and Sander turns to him with an expectant look.

“Carnival?”

“I didn’t remember you giving me your number, but I did remember your preaching about cotton candy being the superior junk food,” Sander rushes with an explanation like he feels his choice needs a proper justification. “And it just so happened that a carnival came to Antwerp this weekend. I thought it was a sign?” He scratches his nose, his stance a little unsure as he awaits Robbe’s reaction.

His eyes grow bigger with each passing second until Robbe beams at him and tells him how much he likes the idea. Sander lets out a loud phew, face relieved when they enter the area. The place is packed, but that’s okay because Robbe loves the vibe and how close Sander keeps walking next to him because of it. The loud music is not the best for talking, but they soon find other things to do, marching from booth to booth, getting drinks and trying out silly games, the teasing competitiveness quickly coming out. Sander really wants to win a plushie for him, but he fails spectacularly, his sulking remedied only by a kiss on his cheek.

Robbe eats his weight in cotton candy, childlike joy on his face while Sander watches amused and keeps calling him cute. The Ferris Wheel was supposed to be their next stop, but when it turns out it's out of service, Sander shoots him a desperate look, apologizing for this lame outcome like it's his fault. But Robbe is having so much fun he barely cares they lost their chance at a kiss on the top, knows the night's still young and they'll get their chance somewhere else.

They try out a few other things, laughing and having a great time together before Sander gets weirdly quiet.

"Do you, um, do you think we can go sit down for a bit? To talk?" Sander keeps avoiding his eyes as he asks, but Robbe doesn't miss the flicker of vulnerability in his face, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. He's a bit taken aback at this gear change, but Sander's clearly bothered with something and he wants to be there for him so he just hums and follows him to the bench outside.

"There's something you need to know."

Robbe steals himself for the worst, muscles tensing as he holds his breath.

“I’m bipolar,” Sander finally blurts out, and Robbe’s heart breaks for the insecurity in his eyes, eyes that are now darting all over his own face, trying to be furtive, yet clearly assessing his reaction. “I just-, I want to be straight with you from the get go cause I feel like this may be going somewhere and I don’t want to lie, or, omit anything.” He pauses, frowning a little as he looks down, and something awfully similar to a broken heart shadows his features. “I don’t ever want to keep it a secret anymore.”

Robbe doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, but Sander misinterprets the silence.

“It’s, um, it’s okay if you don’t wanna get involved with me now or something, I get it, I’m a lot to handle.” Scratching his head awkwardly, his lips morph into a wistful smile, and Robbe knows he needs to put a stop to these thoughts.

“Hey,” he starts softly, waiting until Sander’s ready to direct his eyes back on him. When he does, he shoots a smile at him of his own, but there’s nothing wistful about it. If it matches what he feels, Robbe’s quite sure it’s close to adoration, actually. “Thank you for telling me.” Sander takes a deep breath, sitting straight as if he’s preparing for a rejection. “My mom has schizophrenia, you know?”

Green eyes blink up at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Robbe lets his smile widen. “And she’s an amazing mom. She just-, struggles sometimes, and there are days that are really shit days. But I can’t imagine her not being here. Because she’s amazing. And I love her. With or without a mental illness.” He presses his thigh against Sander’s, trying to ease his nervousness as he continues. “I still want to give us a shot. Cause, um, I think that, um, well, you’re really hot, I mean cool, I meant cool, well...” Why does he have to be so awkward? He peaks at Sander after his unfortunate little slip and feels his cheeks flush under his small grin.

“You think I’m hot?”

Robbe whines in protest because now Sander’s just being a little shit, torturing him even though he knows exactly what his stammering means.

He hides his face in his hands. “Obviously, since I’m on a date with you, smartass.”

“It’s always nice to hear.” Sander nudges their shoulders and it makes Robbe look up, just in time for a wink. “Especially from a cutie like you.” He holds his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, and as Robbe gets drowned in his green eyes, distracted, Sander lifts his hand to push a few locks away from his forehead. The brief contact of his fingertips with Robbe’s skin is enough to raise goosebumps on his skin, and he really hopes Sander didn’t notice, that he doesn’t know how gone he is for him already.

He already mourns the lack of contact when Sander pulls away, something akin to shyness on his face now as he’s fiddling with his fingers, and it’s comforting to see he’s not the only one around here being affected.

It’s what gives him the guts to do what he does next, without second-guessing himself again into a spiral. He gets up off the bench and takes Sander’s hand in his own, their fingers tangling right away like it’s their second nature, and nods in the direction of the sidewalk.

“Come on, I’ll show you my favorite spot around here.”

The initial surprise at Robbe’s bold move is quickly replaced with a beaming smile as Sander squeezes his hand gently and gets up too, laughing when Robbe bumps their shoulders teasingly because hey, he’s still a teenage boy and sometimes likes to act like it. Also, he needs to do something to distract himself from the fact that he’s holding Sander’s hand. The fact he can feel a thumb softly grazing his knuckles, almost absent-mindedly, does not help. He'd think their playfulness and cheek kisses would make it all easier for him, and yet here he is.

He’s feeling carefree and drunk on his feelings and this evening and Sander’s smile and when they get close to the spot, Robbe sets his hand free and jogs over to the small ice cream booth, turning around to do a small “taa-daa!” with a big grin. Sander’s laugh at his shenanigans is music to his ears and he loves how the previous frown is now officially gone from his face, features softening instead, eyes twinkling as he calls Robbe a dork, entwining their hands anew the second he’s in his close proximity. Robbe scoots even closer, like an invisible magnet is pulling them together, getting lost in his presence, the smell of his aftershave that carries notes of citrus and something woodsy, masculine, combined with the intoxicating scent of Sander’s leather jacket. The air changes around them, gets charged with tension, Sander’s face changes too, green eyes darting to Robbe’s lips that get dry under attention, and he licks them subconsciously. Just when Tiana Major9’s voice coming from the booth speaker sings when they collide, it’s a beautiful disaster, their faces tilt towards each other, Sander’s hand reaching up as if to cup Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe barely contains his whine when a loud crash from the booth ruins the moment, catching the same frustration on Sander’s face in the corner of his eye. The loaded silence is buzzing in his ears, nerves picking up and he feels awkward again, not sure whether he should just go for it or wait for a better moment.

Sander’s chuckle brings him back from his overthinking, smiles crookedly down at him. “Come on, you gotta tell me your favorite flavor.”

His tone is light like the almost-kiss didn’t happen, but the subtle pink at the high of his cheeks gives him away. It looks like the world’s most exquisite blush, blended perfectly with the shade of his skin that has already been painted light golden with the early summer sun rays. It distracts him for a moment, his gaze stuck as his eyes wander slowly from one mole to another, lingering on his lips that are just as inviting as they were a few seconds ago, tempting Robbe to make that move, but then he feels Sander taking his hand again, this time interlacing their fingers and pulling him out of his trance.

Robbe is a vanilla guy and he can see the joke at the hip of Sander’s tongue, but thankfully, the boy refrains from the comment, the huge eyeroll he receives probably stopping him in his tracks, and he only gnaws on his lip, trying to keep the laughter in. He goes for mango, which yuck. Sander doesn’t appreciate his reaction, and they easily slip in the previous banter, ending with him smearing a bit of the ice cream on Robbe’s cheek, lips sucked in as he giggles quietly at his scandalized face.

“You’re such a fucker!” He immediately gets him back for that and they’re close to full on ice cream fight until Sander yells truce, hands protecting his face from the onslaught of Robbe’s sticky hands. Robbe smiles triumphantly at his capitulation, and goes back to licking away at what’s left of his treat.

“It kinda fits you.”

They’ve been strolling along the river for a while now, the full moon shining its light on the side of Sander’s face, making his hair look icy white.

“What?

“The mango flavor.”

Sander furrows his brows in question, waiting for an explanation. Robbe shrugs a little, eyes tracing the soft ripples on the water as he tries to find the right words.

“Mangos have a hard peel, but have a soft inside.”

“Sooo, you’re saying I’m… mushy?” Sander wrinkles his nose at his words and it’s a truly adorable sight.

“No, I’m saying you can seem, um, intimidating and unapproachable, unattainable.” His eyebrows furrow more with each adjective. “But once you get to the inside, so once someone gets to know you, you’re none of these things,” Robbe pauses, swaying their joined hands a little as he peeks at Sander’s face. “You’re nice and sweet and stuff. Even with your edgy black and white aesthetics,” he adds as the second-thought, grinning when he gets a deadpan look in return. It quickly morphs into something softer, beautifully confirming Robbe’s words.

“Okay, let’s say I’m a mango man. In that case, you’re a cutie pie,” Sander says matter-of-factly, always needing to have the last word, and Robbe can only laugh helplessly, trying not to combust under his intense glance. “Also, my black and white aesthetics are amazing, by the way.”

Robbe doesn't dare to argue with that, and he also agrees with the statement so he admits as much, making Sander very pleased.

They walk way into late hours of the evening, huddling closer together with each passing hour in search of warmth against the coldness of the night, or at least that serves as the main excuse. Sander has him bursting in fits of giggles sharing crazy stories from his shopping assistant job and Robbe finds himself opening up about his videotaping passion, a little shy when knowing about Sander's photography skills, but the boy's eyes shine bright when Robbe mentions it, and he's so attentive and interested in everything he has to say on the topic, of the small details he geeks out about that it makes fuzzy feelings swim rampant in his stomach; it's the kind of attention he's been unknowingly yearning for, and here it is, served on a golden plate and in a package so beautiful it makes him swoon.

And he also walks him home, acting all gentlemanly and offering his jacket when the shivers shake Robbe's body a bit. What a catch.

“So, um,” Sander starts as they reach the front door of Robbe’s apartment building, his face mostly covered in shadows cast by the street lanterns. “Kiss or slap?”

The answer to the question is obvious for both of them, but Robbe can’t stop himself from teasing him a bit, scrunching up his face in a deep thought, eyebrows frowned, making Sander scoff impatiently, which is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

Still, he needs to push him a bit more. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I should probably go with the slap for that ice cream incident.” Sander plays along, heaving a regretful sigh, before turning those pretty eyes on him, lips in a pout and hands put together in a praying motion.

“A kiss?” Bottom lip juts out and he’s just too cute for words, Robbe dropping his facade immediately, not stopping his beaming smile anymore.

He also can't fucking wait any longer.

“Okay, I gue-”

Soft lips crash into his, not letting him finish the sentence, Robbe’s clumsiness almost making him topple over, but Sander’s there to catch him, sure hands squeezing his hips and sending small shocks through his body. He rests his hand on the back of Sander’s neck, giving in to the need to bury his fingers in that messy blond hair, and he tugs, just a little, but it’s enough for Sander to sigh into his mouth and pull him closer. Robbe loves the reaction, whimpers quietly as he parts his lips just right for Sander’s tongue to slip inside, to tease at the soft skin inside of Robbe’s bottom lip. It’s all over after that, the kiss morphing from something soft and sweet to tongues sliding together, teeth clinking almost painfully in their desperation, the kiss tasting of mango ice cream and cotton candy, and it’s the best Robbe has ever tasted.

It’s better than he imagined, Sander’s hands caressing his sides as he slows down the kiss so sweet and tender, it pulls at every single one of his heartstrings. He can’t believe he has this wonder of a boy in his arms, kissing him so good, making him dizzy.

The kiss stops eventually, but they stay put, as close as before, the tips of their noses grazing against each other, warm breaths and fluttering lashes, fingernails scratching at the skin that’s covered in goosebumps.

“I have to go,” Robbe murmurs between the miniscule space between them, giggling quietly at the immediate frown his words cause.

“Nooooo.” Sander hides his face in his flushed neck, pressing a kiss there too because why not. “I need more kisses.”

And who is Robbe to tell him no, he goes willingly when Sander lifts his chin up for another one, his mouth a little puffy now. He lets him have it, not that it’s any hardship; he’d stay here all night, just lazily sliding their lips together in a never ending dance.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Sander asks when they break apart. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You know, he’s very important to me, has been in my life for years so his opinion kinda matters a lot.”

His words take Robbe aback, but he tries not to show his discomfort, even though Sander must have felt how tense his body went. He doesn’t seem to find it weird, his face still smiling as he keeps talking about this he that’s apparently so important.

“I hope he’ll like you. He’s perfect, you know?” Actually, Robbe does not know and he’s getting kinda annoyed. He’s pretty sure waxing lyrical about someone else on a date is a faux pas. “I mean, except for leaving fur on anything he touches.”

What.

Robbe’s eyes swivel up to look at him, the corners of Sander’s lips twitching and his face a picture perfect of impishness. He groans in protest, smacking his chest because Sander did it on purpose to pull a reaction out of him and it’s not fair, damn it. He crosses his arms which proves difficult to do when there are still hands firmly holding his hips, keeping him close.

Sander rests their forehead together, swaying them a little to put a smile on Robbe’s grumpy face. “He’s a Norwegian Forest breed and his name is Major Tom.”

And this time it’s Robbe who has a hard time to keep his giggle in because oh my god, what a nerd.

“I wonder where that came from,” he ponders in a voice as serious as he can manage, but Sander sees right through him, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“It’s the bestest name ever, I’ll have you know.”

He gets shut up with another kiss, last one, the sweetest out of all of them. Then, Robbe steps out of his embrace, not trusting himself to end this when Sander's hands are touching any part of his body, and tells him a quiet goodnight, backing into the front door with Sander's soft sleep well ringing in his ears and a huge smile threatening to spread on his face.

Sander: May your dreams be filled with cotton candy 🍬🍭

It only takes a minute for his phone to ping.

And maybe some mangos too 🥭

Robbe: Just need one 😘

White-haired mangos 😘

Goodnight ❤️

#wtfock #my fics #sobbe

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) You Control Me (Even If Its Just Tonight) | Explicit | 1591 words

Louis rides Harry and thinks he's in control.

2) Save a Horse | Explicit | 2400 words

Louis goes to a rodeo with Liam, and gets a lot more than he bargained for. Featuring bull rider Harry, obnoxious t-shirts, and one hell of a night.

3) El Comienzo De Una Vida | Teen & Up | 2779 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This fic is the second part of a series.

After being bartered to Harry to save his kingdom, Louis is on his way to the Alpha's homeland and he would very much like him to stop being so cautious and just kiss him, god damn it!

4) A Treat For You And A Treat For Me | Explicit | 3416 words

Louis blushed at Harry’s flirty tone. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.” He giggled, half joking. “But thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Not just to get in your pants, baby. I’m being honest. You’re always cute. Are you wearing mascara?” He asked, licking over his lips. Louis in makeup always did something to Harry. He loved it.

Louis nodded, leaning forward. “I am. Do you like it? I’m also wearing some cute Halloween panties under my costume.. if you wanna see them later?” He murmured, letting his lips touch Harry’s lightly before pulling away, a tiny smile on his lips.

Harry’s mouth opened a bit, but no words came out. Instead Louis was lifted up and carried in Harry’s arms, up the stairs. “Later? I wanna see them now.” He whispered into Louis’ ear, hot breath sending shivers down Louis’ body. “Missed you so much since last time.”

5) A Kiss For Then, A Kiss For Now (And A Million More) | Mature | 6073 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This is the sequel to this fic.

A collection of moments from Petal's life with her mummy, the stinky alpha and their new baby boy.

6) Terror At Our Door | Explicit | 6201 words

A hurt man comes to Harry's home on Halloween, bringing in a world of mystery that Styles didn't want at all.

What a shame that feelings are involved too.

7) Fight Me Breathless | Mature | 7596 words

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

8) This Ain't Red Wine | Explicit | 9054 words

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

9) Colder Weather | Explicit | 15132 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis doesn’t know what comes over him. “Please H-Harry, take me,” Louis looks back at the farmhouse, swallowing once as his skittish eyes fall onto the master bedroom window, “Take me with you, please.”

Harry’s scent flares, the tinged anger so noticeable that Louis draws back out of the alpha’s space.

“Is he hittin’ on you?”

Louis’ right hand rests briefly against the bruise forming rapidly over the right side of his rib cage, the darkness of the night hiding the movement. “No.”

10) Those Who From The Pit Of Hell, Roam To Seek Their Prey On Earth | Explicit | 17636 words

1889. Louis Tomlinson is a student at the prestigious Harrow School for Boys, nurturing his passion for forensic medicine under the care of a particularly mysterious and dark teacher, Harry Styles, who has set his main focus on a series of gruesome murders, all of them reflecting the year 1888, when Jack the Ripper went rampant in the poor streets of Whitechapel.

11) The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly Home | General Audiances | 19397 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

An omega Louis and an alpha Harry find themselves in a forced marriage that gives Louis the freedom he desires in exchange for Harry being chained up a bit more.

12) Welcome to The Rivalry | Mature | 19671 words

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

13) Welcome to the Bottom of the World | Not Rated | 20859 words

Louis is an American musher/expedition guide, Harry is a scientist from England. They meet in the middle of Antarctica, what could go wrong?

14) Reach The Heavens Own Blue | Explicit | 21070 words

He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him.

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one.

15) Terror Of Surrender | Explicit | 31566 words

Harry instructs them to step into Crescent Lunge, stopping when he gets to Louis to adjust his hips. “I think you can bend a little more.” He helps Louis deepen the stretch, his hands tight on his hips. “Good boy.”

Louis gasps quietly, his eyes snapping to Harry’s, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry’s eyes drop to his lips, his hands smoothing down Louis’ stretched thighs, then he’s turning and walking to the front of the class.

16) Eyes Off You | Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

17) Puncture | Mature | 43383 words

Note; This fic has mentions of BH.

An alternate universe where Harry bites Louis and hates the taste of his blood but is still obsessed with him anyway.

18) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

19) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57191 words

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

20) Wild Thing | Mature | 65962 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

21) Three Days in February | Explicit | 187642 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“I know you, Harry Styles” Pt. 2

aka “You’re an Angel”

how harry always be lookin’ at you ^^

AHHH so I’m so glad I wrote a second part of this! It got to be much more enjoyable once I just starting writing what I wanted and not keeping with the original idea I had lol. - I hope y’all enjoy: give me feedback and also I’d love some requests :)

Cannot believe I gave this a slight musical twist bahaha

Also more music was inspiring me to write (that’s usually how it goes) so main songs were: Besame Mucho - the beatles and Time of the Season - the zombies (both mentioned in the story but if you wanted to get ready lol

Word Count: 6.6k (lmao what is wrong with me) | Warnings: kissing, allusion to smut, mentions of covid/quarantine, a little self-doubt/allusion to insecurity, FLUFF

Part 1

His fingers came down to your chin and tilted your head back up to look at him.

“You’re an angel and you deserve to be told so more often.”

His lips connected with yours. The kiss was chaste, but it felt so good. Your lips tugged slightly on his lower lip and Harry continued to kiss you. Then he gave you one more kiss that lingered on your lips, his lower lip slowly pulling itself over yours before he completely pulled away. The warmth of his lips remained on you even when he was gone, but you couldn’t help yourself from trying to tug him back down onto you.

You went to bed that night flustered, to say the least. You couldn’t shake the thought of what almost was down on that couch. It excited you, but it scared you a little too. You didn’t actually know this guy, even if he was famous Harry Styles. You wanted to get to know the actual person, Harry, before you did anything you might regret. It also scared you because this would eventually end. Your lives weren’t connected except for David and that was a rather loose connection. It wasn’t realistic to get involved with Harry, no matter how hot it felt to almost kiss him.

You woke up from the light flooding into your room, through the beautiful, yet impractical, sheer white curtains. You groaned, a slight grogginess from drinking last night. Then you remembered the events of last night, and you groaned louder.

“Oh God,” you moaned to yourself in disbelief, before sliding out of the bed. You padded to the window and looked outside, the view from here was incredible, the city to your left, the vast hills to your right. This offered you some comfort.

Then, you went over to the mirror in the corner of the room. Your hair was a mess from sleep, your eyes were drooping, and your clothes that you had slept in were askew. You rubbed your face with a single palm before setting out to the bathroom down the hall. You crept slowly, worrying you might run into Harry in your unideal state, which would make the events of last night all the more embarrassing. However, when you left the room, you heard music coming from downstairs and decided Harry was likely down there as well.

After the bathroom, you looked in your mirror once more. Your appearance was far more uniform now, even if you were still in your sleepwear. Harry still hadn’t learned what quarantine was so you were assuming he’d be in some nice outfit. You didn’t know what would be worse, going down in the oversized t-shirt you had worn to sleep last night or getting dressed like you actually had something to do today - when you didn’t. You decided to go with the easiest option, go with what you got. You added shorts underneath the shirt for some coverage and ventured downstairs.

There, the music became clearer to you. The Beatles’ rendition of “Besame Mucho” had just begun and Paul’s voice was extra sultry in it. You loved this song and you almost ceased to exist when you saw a shirtless Harry singing animatedly to it as he made himself cereal.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Harry. He had begun to sing to his cereal box when it had started, but he looked at you directly when he realized you were there. The way he sang out, “Besame, Besame mucho,” similar to Paul, was full of sexual yearning.

His tone made you feel something deep inside, but it also made you feel like you were right where you were last night. But it was morning now, no wine to blame. Just the two of you with your eyes locked and Harry singing “kiss me, kiss me a lot.” The two minute song seemed to last forever. However, when it finally ended, Harry released you from his stare. You were in disbelief that the tension from last night had been so quick to pop up this morning.

“Lovely song,” Harry threw out as he passed by you and went somewhere else to enjoy his cereal. You stood there, still dumbfounded at what had just happened. You shook yourself out of it and went to prepare your own breakfast.

Finding all the ingredients for your breakfast smoothie, you blended them up, poured it into a glass, cleaned up and headed out into the house. Slightly in search of you entrancing roommate, but also interested in taking advantage of all the space this house provided.

Harry was sitting in a different sitting room than the one from last night. You were happy with the change in scenery, not wanting any more reminders of last night. This room was smaller than the other, but it had a cute, little fireplace and you could imagine nights of laughing around the crackling fire, snuggled up next to someone you loved. You pushed the thought from your mind, knowing you didn’t have someone to snuggle with.

Harry had transferred his music to this room's bluetooth system and a random playlist was on, you assumed. He was happily chowing on his cereal when you entered and you smiled sheepishly at him. You crossed to the empty spot on the couch, the furthest one from his toned, tattooed, naked torso.

He raised his brows at your presence. “Hey,” you said, you had no clue what else you could say. “Hey,” he echoed in response. Silence. God, this is awkward, you thought. How could you have gone and screwed this up already? You mentally facepalmed.

Harry broke the silence, “Any plans for today?”

“Ah no, David doesn’t really have anything for me to do right now, but,” you stopped for a second to sip on your smoothie, “I think I’m going to take Checkers out on a walk at some point.”

Harry perked up at the mention of Checkers, “Let me know when, I’d love to get some fresh air and play with Checkers, too.”

You nodded, knowing the conversation was ending already and you’d go back to the awkward silence.

Harry and you went your separate ways again after breakfast.

At around 3, you decided it’d be a good time to walk Checkers so you grabbed one of his leashes and searched the house for the dog. In the living room, from last night, you found Harry, laying on his stomach, with his arms around the tiny pup, snuggling him and whispering to him.

You heard one snippet: “You’re such a cute lil’ baby, aren’t you? I love you,” he cooed to the dog below him. Your smile made an appearance on your face.

Clearing your throat, you notified Harry of your presence.

Harry flitted his gaze up to you standing behind him, brows raised once again. “I thought we could go for the walk, if you’re still interested,” you said, holding up the leash.

Harry jumped to his feet and thought better of making a comment about who the leash was for. Instead he said, “Yeah, thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Of course.” You leashed up Checkers and went for the front door.

“Actually,” Harry’s words stopped you, “do you think we could go out the back gate?”

You stood there slightly confused, you knew there was a path from the back, but you preferred walking to a patch of grass that required you to go out the front door.

“Um,” you started, not particularly wanting to change your plan.

Harry elaborated, “It’s just, I’d prefer no pap photos and the back walk is much more private.”

You understood his preference and you knew you didn’t want to be part of a twitter storm of “Who is that with Harry Styles!” and you, even more, didn’t want to be part of the twitter storm that followed the first: the deep dive into your life and then whatever terrible thing they decided to say about you afterwards.

“That’s fine, I wouldn’t want that either.” You switched courses and Checkers was roaring to go, prancing and yipping excitedly.

Harry mulled over what you said, he was, on one hand, glad you weren’t eager to be seen with him, but he also felt another feeling, possibly rejection, on the other hand, that you didn’t want to be seen with him. He didn’t know why he felt that, especially because he had been the one to bring it up.

Once out on the path, you actually let Checkers off his leash, he knew to stay close and since you weren’t walking next to streets you didn’t have to worry about cars.

That left you and Harry to walk beside each other while Checkers went around exploring and sniffing everything. It felt weird to have your hands next to each other yet not touching as you walked. The path was wide enough for the proximity of your bodies to not be as they were, but for some reason you and Harry had decided to walk within touching distance.

Harry wasn’t one for silence, you were beginning to realize, as he always seemed to be the first to fill it whenever it fell between the two of you.

First, he commented on Checkers and how smart of a dog he was for how small he was. You responded with something about how looks can be deceiving, even with dogs. Harry laughed. Silence. Then, he commented on the nature around the two of you and how beautiful it was. You only said “I love it.” Silence.

Harry was at a roadblock, mentally, there were no roadblocks on the path. The three of you had been walking for ten minutes and you had only said about ten words. Last night had been so fun for him and then you ran off and he felt like it all had been ruined. Now, today the two of you had been walking on eggshells around one another.

He thought back to last night and ran through the list of things the two of you had meshed on. There was actually quite a bit and he was determined to get back to the ease of conversation that had occurred between you two last night. Finally he had it. Travel.

“If you had to live in one country for the rest of your life, where would you go,” he paused, “And why!”

“Did you just pull out an icebreaker on me?” you asked, incredulous at the man walking beside you.

You had been content with the silence, but obviously had to bite at his question. It was a good question.

“I have no idea what that is,” Harry shrugged, crossing his arms nonchalantly. Your face turned to him and you couldn’t help your laughter. You could tell he was trying to be cute - and it was working.

You thought about his question for a moment.

“Am I able to travel still or am I required to stay in that one country at all times?” “You have to stay there at all times, but you can travel to different places in the country.”

You hummed at his response. “Alright,” you began, “Do you want to hear my thought process?”

Harry nodded eagerly, “Please.”

You knew you talking more would make him happy and honestly you were happy to oblige. As awkward as you felt after last night, you knew you had to shake it off. You were both adults, Harry probably has kissed plenty of his friends and it's been nothing, you sure had. You could’ve been another name on each other’s list of friends you’ve kissed. It was hard for you to think of a reason as to why it had been so daunting for you to face Harry today.

“Ok, so the smart choice for a travel happy person would be the United States because it is very large and you could travel around within the country to different places.”

Harry looks at you, a smile beginning to grow on his face. “Uh-huh,” he encouraged you to continue.

“But, honestly I’ve always wanted to get out of this country. So then my next idea was Japan because while it may be small, I love it there and everyone is wonderful. It’s just this awesome place.”

Harry’s smile was now an entire grin, he loved how animated you had become. “But?”

You laughed at the fact that he already knew what you were going to say. “Exactly, but! I don’t know the language, so I would have to spend a long time learning it either there or here first and as you get older, picking up a language is hard, and Japanese is a complicated language even if you are young.”

Harry nodded, again. This time you needed no verbal encouragement to keep going, travel excited you.

“Final answer,” you said, tone dire, like you were on a game show about to win the big money prize.

“Final answer,” Harry echoed.

He had flipped around and was walking backwards, you had no idea why, but he had wanted to get a better look at your face. It had lit up while talking and he just wanted to memorize the twinkle in your eye.

“France. It’s relatively large - with cities, coasts, and countryside. It's wonderful, filled with beautiful art and history. I speak the language already, and even though the French can be a little mean, I, also, in fact, can be a little mean.”

Harry bit back his laugh and clapped his hands.

“Wonderful answer, Ms. ...,” He paused, confusion filling his face, “I actually never got your last name, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you said before quickly telling him your last name, then he repeated his praise, adding it to the end.

You smiled back at him, feeling pride for your answer even if it was something silly. Harry made you feel extremely special. It was almost like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

You jumped a bit to get back in pace with him and he turned back around.

“What about you, Mr. Styles, where would you go if you could only live in one place for the rest of your life?” You nudged his exposed arm, the one that wasn’t covered in tattoos - just the eagle, as you repeated his question.

He sighed and looked at the sky, thinking for a moment.

“Are people allowed to visit me?” he asked, turning his head back to you.

“Sure, it’s not like you’re dropping off the face of the earth, people would know where you’ve gone,” you said.

“But you wouldn’t be able to visit me?” Harry followed up.

You responded to Harry with a question. “In this scenario are we both moving to places that we are never able to leave?”

He shrugged, looking to you for the answer since he had asked the initial question that had complicated the scenario.

You huffed and then took it upon yourself to decide. “Ok, so anyone who is not in a similar agreement as the one we have entered into in the scenario is allowed to visit you. So as long as your mum doesn’t enter into an agreement where she moves to one country for the rest of her life - that isn’t the same as the one you pick- then she can still visit you.”

Harry nods and snorts a little at how much you had just said in one breath. “Still no you though?” he teased.

“No me,” you confirmed, smiling that he was considering you in the scenario, even if it wasn’t plausable thing at all. Like you said, he made you feel special.

“Ok, well,” Harry finally began his answer, “I like France.”

He continued to look at you, but you knew he wasn’t done. “And I’m glad you cleared up the mum thing, because that would’ve probably swayed me back to England.”

He chuckled at himself, which caused you to roll your eyes playfully and whisper a little laughing “Shut up.”

He went on, “I like the idea of Japan or Italy as well, but I don’t know the languages there either. I don’t know, even with my Mum still able to visit me, I just love my home.”

You bit your lip, that might just be the cutest thing in the world.

“I love traveling around, I do. But, I want to go live in the English countryside some day. Have a little farm and a little family. We could go into the city if we needed, but it’d be a quiet little life and it’d be all mine. So, if I could only live in one country for the rest of my life it’d have to be England.”

You blinked and smiled softly at the sentiment. He described something so beautiful and the way he said it, he sounded so sincere - he’d obviously thought about the idea before - settling in the English countryside with a family.

“That makes sense,” you started, your voice low, just above a whisper.

Harry must have thought he detected some sadness in your voice because he was quick to say, “Technically, you know, the English Channel is half English territory and half French. So if we wanted to see each other, we could take boats out and meet in the middle, without leaving our respective countries.”

You threw your head back in laughter, but then you stopped in your tracks. You turned to your right and went off the path to a little patch of flowers you had noticed out of the corner of your eye. Your body crouched and picked one of the taller wildflowers.

Harry had followed after calling to Checkers, letting the dog know of your pause in the walk. He and the dog came up to you. You turned your body back to Harry who was watching you intently.

“We could see each other,” you looked at him and extended the long flower to him. “But we wouldn’t be able to touch,” you studied him carefully, he was like a puzzle - and you weren’t very good at puzzles, “Not without breaking the rules of our agreements.”

Harry delicately touched the opposite end of the flower between you. His eyes flickered between the flower and your face. He smirked, “It’s a good thing that none of it’s real, then.”

He plucked the flower from you with one hand and grabbed your now empty hand with his other. He spun you around and your laughter came out a little high pitched from the surprise of his actions.

“Harry!” you exclaimed, you loved his spontaneity, but you felt like you couldn’t show just how much you really enjoyed what he was doing. He was still spinning you until he extended his arm and you thought it was the end. Until he tugged you and you spun right into his chest, leaving you wrapped up in his arm and staring at his face right above yours.

As you worked to catch your breath, you placed a hand on his chest. You could feel his heart beating below your hand, it was practically in sync with yours. Harry didn’t know that though and he feared you’d think his heart was racing unreasonably. Your smile calmed him down as you continued to stare adoringly up at him. It was nice to be held so close. He was so warm and soft.

“Can you not run away this time?” His tone was playful, but his eyes were serious. His jaw flexed beneath his skin as his eyes squinted slightly at you.

“I’m sorry?” you licked your lips. You didn’t understand his question.

“Can you not run away before I can kiss you,” he repeats. Oh, you thought.

“Harry…” you trailed off, conflicted. You wanted to kiss him. You really wanted him to just lean down and take your breath away with the touch of his lips.

“Just let me kiss you, please,” he was begging. Why did he have to beg? And give you that look that made you want to melt into him?

“We barely know each other,” you finally get out. It pained you to even put your thoughts into words.

“So what?” It was more of a statement, than a question when it came from Harry’s lips.

You realized he had a little clip on the top of his head, pulling back his curls. He still managed to look despicably handsome. He reached a hand to curl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. You sighed. Your eyes faltered from the hold his eyes had been keeping, his dimple making an appearance as he smiled sweetly down at you. You could tell that he knew what he was doing to you.

“Wanted to kiss you so bad last night,” Harry continued when he realized you hadn’t formed any words in the last minute.

He began to sway the pair of you slightly in the March breeze. You couldn’t stop your tongue from darting out and wetting your lips at his words. His eyes trained on your face of course didn’t miss the small movement. He only blinked.

“I wanted you to,” you said, still unsure of yourself, “I still want you to.”

His hand in your hair moved to the shell of your ear and trailed lazily onto your jaw. “Then I can kiss you,” he stated, but his voice faltered giving away that he was still a little uncertain.

You put pressure into the hand on his chest, “I’d say you’d have to make me dinner first, but you already did that.” He raised his brows at your change in tone, your words sounding slightly more flirtatious.

You knew what you wanted and hell, maybe this would be the two most fun weeks of your lives.

He leaned down to meet his lips with yours. Softly, your mouths danced together. You pushed your lips into his and his brushed against yours expertly. His pink lips were soft and you felt his bits of chin and mustached scruff on your skin. It all felt amazing. His mouth practically engulfed yours as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Your body responded by pressing closer and humming a slight moan of satisfaction. Harry liked what he heard. Eventually you both had to come up for air, unbeknownst to your counterparts, both of you had asthma and this hot kiss had taken away your breath a little more than you’d like to admit.

You pulled away from Harry a bit, but he kept his arm around you. “Seems like a good end to the walk, yeah?” Harry asks you. You bit down on your lip and nodded. Checkers had stayed close throughout your whole ordeal, thankfully, but it seemed like he was ready to go back home as well.

Back at the house, Harry and you flowed so much better now. Whether it was the chatting or the kiss, it didn’t matter.

You planned for dinner again, deciding on take out, talked about watching a movie tonight, and then occupied yourselves with various random thoughts.

Whenever you were in reach, Harry had his hands all over you. You weren’t complaining. You liked having him close to you. His skin was fiery while his rings somehow managed to maintain a coolness about them.

The two of you settled in the back room with Checkers. You laid on the couch, while Harry was on his back, on the ground with Checkers laying on his chest. He lazily ran his hand through the dog’s fur, his other hand was extended up and you held his large hand in yours.

Harry had insisted on being the music player for the evening. It had prompted the discussion of music selection switching between the two of them every day, which was reasonable. It wasn’t too awful, Harry and you had similar tastes in music and it was only one day if one of you wasn’t loving the choices being made on your off day. You liked the simplicity of it all.

Over the speakers, “Time of the Season” by the Zombies began to play. You started moving your head side to side to the beat. Harry began singing the main verse. Then you both sang out “it’s the time of the season for loving” not fully grasping at the meaning behind the words.

Harry shifted as the music played so he was sitting at eye level with you. Your face turned to meet his and he smiled as he sang, “What’s your name?” And you giggled and pushed his shoulder. He stayed right where he was, leaning in closer.

You spoke the next verse, “Who’s your Daddy?” while looking straight into Harry’s eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at this, there was no other word for what you had just done to him, it was simply hot.

He tried to grab for you, but you pulled away and sat up, still singing the song. “Is he rich like me?” You caricatured yourself as if you were a wealthy woman on a yacht, flipping your hair and fanning yourself, and finished with a bite to your lip.

Harry followed you up, taking over control of the lyrics, “Has he taken any time?” While he sang he pushed you softly into the back cushions, “to show you.” He pulled his body up over yours, face skimming over the front of your body, then when his face was at the shell of your ear he whispered, “what you need to live?”

You let out a shaky breath. His whisper against you sent sparks tingling straight to your core. He was pressed against you, waiting for you to make a move. The song and performance the two of you had begun was forgotten. You turned your head towards him and he moved to face you.

“Hi,” you giggled and brushed your nose against his.

“You’re an angel.”

“Oh?”

“You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met. Only makes sense that you’re an angel.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, “Down boy! Don’t go writing an album about me.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders and he looked at you with slightly squinted eyes. Then he smirked, sneakily, “I just might! I can see it already: Quarantine Angel the Album.”

“You already have a song called ‘Only Angel’ and she was your ‘only’ one so you can’t have another angel?” You tried to sound logical, but you were playing with him and had to try to hide your growing smile.

“Ah-ha!” Harry jumped up at your words and pulled you up with him. This left the two of you standing chest to chest, his hands now taking up residence on your waist. “You are a fan, I knew it!”

“That proves nothing!” You tried to break away from his grasp, but he refused to let you go. Your body twisted in his grasp so that your back was now against his chest and he was hunched over you slightly, trying to keep you from running away.

He scoffed, “C’mon that’s one of my least streamed songs and it’s off my first album. You obviously listen to my music, Y/N!”

You didn’t dignify his remark with a response. You continued to wriggle in his grasp, but you actually were quite happy in his arms.

“You can say you listen to my music, angel, won’t make me like you any less,” He smirked down at you.

“You really are a narcissist,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that, angel?” He moved his head around to try and see your face. You huffed, it was clear he wasn’t going to stop with the pet name now that he had it. “Did you say I really am an amazing artist?”

You finally wriggled yourself from his grasp and turned to face him, “No, I said you really are a narcissist.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line as you smirked at him. His mouth then shifted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right. You’re not an angel. More like an evil nymph.”

“Why not just make me a demon?” You teased.

He was backing you up into the wall as you continued to talk. “You’re sexier than a demon,” he replied like it was common sense.

“Oh, alright.”

Harry pressed up against you, your back on the wall, his hands back on your body. “See,” he whispered, “That right there. Who responds to someone telling them they're sexy with ‘alright’?”

“I don’t know,” your blush crept up your neck, suddenly feeling much more shy. Harry caressed your cheek, urging you to make eye contact with him. It was hard, but you obliged.

“I don’t usually receive comments like that.”

“But you’re stunning, angel?”

“Thought I was an evil nymph…”

“‘M not calling you an evil nymph, as a petname, you’re so weird.”

“You said it first, not me. But, seriously, I’m not usually one who receives constant attention - like that…”

“That,” Harry paused, nibbling his lower lip, “makes no sense to me. I find you unbelievably attractive and then your personality makes you all the more amazing.”

You continued to blush at his praise. “That,” you poked a finger into the center of his chest, punctuating your words, “is because you're able to find the good bit in everyone that makes them attractive. Plus, most people find my personality to be rather...off-putting.”

Harry tilted his head at your response, the playful conversation had quickly turned serious. “How do you know I always see the good in people?”

“We’ve already been over this, I know you, Harry, you’re a kind person. You do good by others, even if they don’t always do good by you,” you looked at him meaningfully, you wanted him to know that was a good way to be.

“I can be mean sometimes, unkind, angry, jealous, spiteful, all of it. I’m human, Y/N. I like you, not because I like everyone I meet, but because of who you are. Who you’ve shown me you are.” His eyes were looking intently back at you and you thought you might melt. “Your personality is refreshing, it’s real and honest. Anyone who doesn’t like it just doesn’t like being challenged.”

Your eyes faltered from meeting Harry’s gaze. Your hand on his chest fiddled with his cross pendant.

He was wearing a white tank beneath an open short sleeve white button down. It was clean and refreshing. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing come out of his mouth. Like his shirt, it was refreshing to hear someone speak so kindly of you, even though you barely knew one another. It felt so good.

His fingers came down to your chin and tilted your head back up to look at him.

“You’re an angel and you deserve to be told so more often.”

“You’re an amazing kisser, by the way,” you said quietly. Harry chuckled at your words and how you sounded so timid.

“Next you’re gonna tell me you’ve never been properly snogged.”

You disregarded his words, not trying to make yourself sound pathetic, that yes, no one had ever kissed you like Harry did.

“And I’m sorry I boxed you in before. I know you’re human and you have a full range of emotions. It’s unfair of me to say I know you, when I so clearly don’t.”

“Hey, hey, no. I know that’s not what you were saying. I just wanted to show you that I’m not perfect and I have my fair share of critics. Doesn’t mean I’m any less worthy of being treated well. Same goes for you. That was what I was trying to show you.” He wrapped you in his arms and you sighed content to rest your head on his chest and be engulfed by him.

“I want you to believe me when I say you’re an angel,” he kissed the top of your head. “And stunning,” he continued, kissing you again. “And sexy…” he trailed off, stroking your hair. You giggled as you nuzzled into his chest.

The two of you spent the rest of your day together, cuddled on the couch talking and flicking through the various streaming services David had, never able to settle on anything. For dinner, you decided on Chinese takeout and you ate it on the couch.

After you both were satisfied, you leaned into Harry’s side and he extended an arm around your shoulder. You placed one of your arms over his stomach and circularly rubbed him over his butterfly tattoo. You also threw one leg over his lap so your entire body was pressed against his. Harry liked the feel of your body on his, so he adjusted his arm to pull you flush against him.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You asked. Harry nodded. “Ideas?” He laughed before saying, “Earlier when we were singing Time of the Season, made me feel like I was in a musical.” You echoed his laughter as you looked up at him from your spot on his chest. “Mamma Mia?” You suggested. “Love that one.” “It’s probably on one of these apps?” You scrowled through until you found it for free and flicked it on.

The two of you settled again, pressing closer even if there was nowhere closer to go. It just felt good to feel Harry’s body against yours. Warm and strong, yet soft. You both sang softly to the songs in the beginning, but you loved hearing Harry’s voice so much that you stopped singing along by the third song. You laughed along to the antics of the characters, but you couldn’t help but stare at Harry when he would sing. He mostly kept his eyes on the screen, but would sometimes flicker them down to your face and smile dopily at you.

You fiddled with his necklace again when you would watch the scenes go by. You’d also comment on what was going on, you were never able to sit quietly during a movie or show, you liked to talk about it too much. Harry didn’t seem to mind, saying something if your comment warranted a response.

When ‘Our Last Summer’ started, Harry began to sing again and you motioned between Colin Firth on the screen and Harry. You said, “Harry and Harry.” He laughed while he continued to sing, the words slightly hiccuping due to his laughter. His soothing voice overpowered the three men, who weren’t actually that good of singers, despite him not trying to sing very loud at all. Then, you had to sing, “And your name is Harry!” when it came around. All Harry did was tap your nose and smile down at you. He wanted to tease you, but he liked how sweet you were being with him.

You continued to watch and about half way through the movie you shifted your spot so your face was in line with his. “You really are an amazing singer Harry, like to hear you right in my ear - it’s like magic.” Harry shook his head and grinned. “You’re too sweet to me, angel. Thought you said you weren’t going to give me special treatment.”

You pecked his cheek and bucked your head softly against his, similar to a cat. “It’s different now.” “I know,” he trailed off again. The pair of you turned your focus back to the screen, finishing the movie with some more side comments and kisses throughout.

When it ended, you yawned slightly, “I forgot how long it was.” Harry nodded his agreement. You began to sit up, but Harry pulled you back into him. A sigh left your mouth as you were able to explain how you wanted to upstairs and get ready for bed. “I just want to keep snuggling, angel, you’re so warm.”

“Harry, I need to go to bed.”

“Then sleep with me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sleep with me in my room. You’re such a child, Y/N.”

“Says the one who won’t let me get up and go to sleep just because he wants to keep cuddling,” you gave him a shake of your head with squinted eyes.

“Look, I can guarantee you will enjoy it. I’m a very gentle man in my sleep.”

You threw your head back, still in slight disbelief of the situation you currently found yourself in. Cooped up in a house with Harry and no one else - besides the dog - the end nowhere in sight, since the news kept telling you how dire the situation was, and him constantly flirting with you. Not to mention the casual kissing that always seemed like it was on the verge of going somewhere else. You had no idea what sleeping in the same bed as him might bring. Sure, you didn’t know each other all too well, but look at him, he was gorgeous and if he wanted you, you were definitely not opposed to giving yourself to him.

You blew the air out of your nose and looked back at him. “Fine,” Harry lit up at your words, “But, you have to go let me brush my teeth and change.”

“I can agree to those terms.”

Then the two of you set off upstairs, Harry practically dragging you by the arm. But the smile never left your face. Checkers had gone to bed hours ago in the den, he preferred to sleep downstairs.

Once you were ready, you headed down the hall to Harry’s room. You admittedly had done a bit more than just change and brush your teeth - full skin care, reapplication of deodorant and some lotion, you didn’t want to smell gross when you were sleeping in the same bed as him.

He’d left the door slightly ajar, but you still decided it was polite to knock. “Come in,” he called, he was already in bed. You stepped into the room in some sleep shorts and a shirt that ended below the shorts, meaning you appeared to be only in the shirt. The room was dimly lit and you scurried to the bed. Harry sat up and dangled his legs off the bed when you came over. You stood in between his legs as he looked at you, running his hand over your face. You loved when he touched you, even in the simplest of ways.

“C’mere,” he pulled you into his lap and you straddled him daintily. Your thighs rested on his and you felt his hands move to cradle your round bottom. He shuffled the two of you back so he was resting against the bedpost. Your hands rested on his chest so that your fingertips fell into the dips of his collarbones.

He was only wearing boxers and you had to remind yourself to keep your eyes at his neck or above. The tiger on his left thigh was almost fully visible and you just wanted to trace it with your mouth. He kneaded your cheeks slightly and you jerked your body forward into him in response. He chuckled lowly.

“You’re very...responsive.”

“Harry,” you practically whimpered.

You knew where he was going and like you said, you wanted to go there with him, but you could feel your exhaustion wearing on you.

“Can we wait?” You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m so tired and I know that it wouldn’t be enjoyable for either of us if I wasn’t fully into it.”

You took a hand and ran it through his locks, he sighed at your touch. He moved his hands up to your waist and rubbed up and down softly.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just look at you and I just want to kiss every inch.”

You took one leg from around his waist so that the two of you could settle in for sleep.

“Same here,” you laughed quietly.

He gave you one last searing kiss before you fell asleep.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Tag list: @cronias13, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow, @harrys-cherrry, @mellamolayla, @chillingbythesea, @thatgirlwithcamera, @reidsmemory, @socialfake, @harrxier, @imagine-that-1975

#harry baby #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #i know you harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles is domestic #harry styles angst #absolute kissy

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

Body Insecurities Series

Rated: T for implied sexy times and language

Members: Jin and Yoongi

Body struggle: Your breasts

Jin

Today was a day full of mistakes. Mistake #1: You scrolled through Instagram for the 50th time today. You knew better. But the photo of Jin and that model now had 2.1 million likes. Htf was that even possible? You thought. I mean, you knew the two fan bases were huge, but jeez.

Mistake #2: You read the comments section. The one talking about how your boyfriend was so hot and so was the model and that they were probably dating and how she had the perfect body and “wow most Korean girls aren’t that curvy,” “Damn, I bet Jin couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off that.”

You were petite. You did not have an hourglass figure. In a world of alleged hourglasses, apples, and pears, you were a carrot. Or a french fry. A very straight french fry. You had gone through your middle school phase of super padded bras. Your high school phase of little silicone cutlets. And even your twenty-something phase where you looked into cosmetic surgery. But you thought you had come to terms with your aerodynamic figure by this point in your life.

You sighed. You had promised yourself you would not be this kind of girlfriend. You knew you were dating a celebrity. You knew what you were getting into. It still sucked though. You heard the door to your apartment unlock.

[Y/N]?” You heard Jin yell from the foyer.

“I’m in here,” you responded, getting up and walking over to him.

“Hey beautiful,” he said as he exited the foyer and reached down for a hug. You smiled as he always hooked his arms under yours even though he was taller. Weirdo. I wonder if he hugged that model. You found yourself thinking. Goddammit brain. Stop.

“Hey! Did you have a good day today? You’re home so early.” You said as you walked into the kitchen.

He followed you, opening up the refrigerator and grabbing a drink. “Yeah. We filmed an episode of Run today and we actually completed our missions early so here I am,” he smiled while taking a swig of the drink.

You looked over at him, “I thought you were doing shots with that model today?” You said without thinking.

He thought for a minute, trying to remember what you were talking about. He pulled some chicken out of the refrigerator, “That was last week. You know the content creators hold on to photos for months at a time. Today’s Run episode won’t even air for like 8 months.” He said nonchalantly. Like it was no big deal. Because to him, it wasn’t.

“Oh.” You said as you prepared the rice maker. “Was she nice?”

Jin rolled his eyes. “Since when do you take an interest in who I work with? Other than when it’s an artist or actor you’re a fan of.” He could guess where this conversation was headed. He sat the chicken down on the counter.

“No reason,” you responded.

“She was fine. We didn’t really talk, but she was polite to her stylists and stuff I guess.” He said as he began to marinate the chicken.

The rest of the evening passed as normal as possible with the two of you cooking and eating dinner. You tried hard not to be an insecure weirdo but it was difficult. You left your phone in the bedroom to resist the urge to check insta again.

“What do you want to do tonight?” you asked him since he rarely had a free evening.

He had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Netflix and Chill. Is that what the kids call it?”

You laughed, “Yeah like 5 years ago old man,” you teased him as you joined him on the couch.

“You pick, I don’t care.” He said, handing you the remote. You scrolled through mindlessly before deciding on something.

You tried to focus on the movie but all you could focus on was the actress’s perfect bodies. You didn’t even notice how much you were zoning out until the movie abruptly stopped. Jin had paused it. You looked over at him.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.” you said, feeling your face flush. You had said it too quickly though and Jin noticed.

“Jagiya. Talk to me.” Jin said wrapping his arm around you.

“I just...I’m feeling really awkward after seeing the picture of you with that model and reading all those comments about how perfect she is and how you two look so good together and how she has perfect tits and I have zero tits and I just feel really bad about myself now.” You stumbled through your confession all at once.

“Oh Jagi...There’s so much going on up there,” he ran his hand down the side of your face. “Yes. She is very pretty. And so are most of the people I work with. And so are you. I’m not going to lie about that. And her boobs are fake.”

You looked at him incredulously, “How do you know?”

He rolled his eyes at you and raised his eyebrows. “Really? You really think those are real?”

You scoffed, “No but I….”

“[Y/N] If you want fake boobs, we can buy them, but I love you and your body just the way you are.”

You looked away. “You’re just saying that.”

Jin sighed, “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but I’m Worldwide Handsome. If I wanted to date a supermodel or someone with huge boobs, I would have done it. I’m with you because I want to be. Because I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you and I think you are beautiful just the way you are.”

You didn’t have a counter argument for that. It’s not like he didn’t have women throwing themselves at him all the time. You nestled back into his side.

“Thanks Jin.” you said.

“No need to thank me. I have clearly been lacking in telling you how beautiful you are and I shall remedy it immediately.” He kissed the top of your head.

Yoongi/Suga

It was time for bed and you had just finished brushing your teeth. You took off your dress and looked in the mirror. You frowned. You grabbed your boobs in your hands and pushed them up, back to where they used to be. Ah much better. You sighed as you let go and watched them sag back down to their now natural state. You groaned and put a bralette on and then put on Yoongi’s black hoody as well.

You walked back out of the bedroom and were surprised to see Yoongi had wandered into the bedroom. You always went to bed way earlier than him; your office job required a much earlier morning than his job. He turned and looked over at you and then opened his arms. You smirked and walked over, lying down on top of him and greeting him with a kiss. “Coming to bed early tonight?”

“No...Just visiting the bedroom in hopes of some other bedroom activities.” he ran a hand through your hair and gave you a suggestive look.

“Oh really?” you said before pressing your lips against his. His hands moved down feeling around your underwear and pulled at the fabric to lift up your shirt. Well, his shirt. You sat up and finished pulling it over your head before settling back down on top of him. The two of you continued to make out for several minutes, slowly losing more and more bits of clothing until all that remained on was your bra.

You hoped Yoongi wouldn’t notice, but as he laid on top of you, he started to rub a hand under your bra band. “I think you’re forgetting something.” he commented playfully.

You tried to ignore it, putting on a sexy voice, “I just want to get to the main event.”

“All right then, let’s do it,” he said and started to pull on the band to help you remove your bralette.

You froze up. “No. I want to keep it on.”

Yoongi gave you a perplexed look and rested down on one elbow, running the other one along your collarbone. “Ok. It’s not a big deal. Is there any reason?”

You looked away, not really wanting to answer. You were usually very confident but lately this had really been bothering you.

“I thought you were just really into borrowing my hoodies, but I’m guessing something else is bothering you.” He said as he gently touched your face, forcing you to look at him.

“I just...I just hate my saggy boobs ok? They’re gross and I don’t want to see them.” You blurted out.

Yoongi looked a little surprised for a minute. “That’s what you’re worried about? But they’re so cute. And I love them.” He said and you actually believed him.

“It’s your body, I’m not going to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And I can’t tell you how to feel. But you should know that I really like them. I like how they feel in my hands.” He gently rubbed the outside material of your bra, “and how they feel in my mouth,” he leaned down to kiss you, “And how they feel against my body.” You felt him gently pushing himself against you beneath the sheets and a quiet moan escaped your lips.

“How? They fall into my armpits when I lay on my back.” you whined. You were also half laughing at how ridiculous you sounded.

He smirked. “That’s gravity. You want me to tell you what my balls do when I lay down?”

“No. Definitely not,” you laughed as you raised your head up to kiss him.

“Alright, we’ll work on helping you feel better about this, ok?” He kissed you again.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fluff #bts jin x you #jin x reader #bts suga x you #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #jin scenarios #bts seokjin x reader #body posititivity #bts boyfriend

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katie-writes24 · 4 years

Text

Fell Into The Same Arms

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, implied material, angst, a sliver of fluff, and injured reader.

Part 2

You know what, this is on me, because I was on Pinterest YET AGAIN and came across prompts that made me want to vent!!! So here is this!! Also, I’m really struggling with this one WIP and I jsut wanted to post soemthing, so I don’t even really know if this is “finished” yet. Let me know if you want to be tagged, and give me some feedback. I apologize in advance if I hurt your heart! But...it’ll be worth it I swear!

Rain was in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn't seem to stop anytime soon on Monday. It took a toll on traffic, that was for sure; the roads were starting to flood and the bus routes were changed unexpectedly. The streets were in no shape for anyone to be out.

But Y/N didn't pay no matter to that. Instead, she kept walking, despite the throbbing in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heels. She ignored the piercing feeling in her back when she tensed. That pain in the back of her head: didn't bother her. Not now, not when she's in the wet streets alone at night, having someplace to be.

Another lie. It was someplace she needed to be, and maybe she wasn't welcomed, but she had no other option. Every other door that used to be open was now closed after comments like you're better than this and don't come crying to me when I'll only say I told you so were thrown at her.

Y/N should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower and ignoring the worried cries from Hercules. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Eliza draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to John's window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep.

What was she doing instead? Knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, not knowing what the outcome ahead would be.

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going so far as the small chain up top would let it. She was met with brown orbs, in a flash they were wide in shock.

She couldn't blame him.

She could only imagine what she looked like, it obviously wasn't a pretty sight if the feeling in her bones had any say in it. But something told her that her appearance was not why he had the reaction.

At this point Y/N believed that he was, in fact, in shock because it's still pouring rain and she can feel her limbs start to grow numb from the cold. He's still staring at her with that look...

"I didn't know where else to go," Her voice sounded raspy even to her, and she guessed it was loud enough for him to hear, considering he shut the door before the sound of a latch being pulled again was heard, and he fully opened the door.

He looked good; dressed in his pajamas, but still good, considering the last time she saw him. He looked fresh out the shower, and she took that as a sign that he didn't have company over.

Thomas hated leaving people waiting. Something they didn't share in common, apparently.

He stepped aside and Y/N didn't waste a second before stepping into the warm house.

"Just- wait a second," Thomas walked down the hallway, soon returning with a towel that he laid across the floor. "Don't want to ruin my floors."

She snorted. Still the same stuck up she remembers. "Could you spare one for me, you think?"

"I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch things up. Looks like you need it," He gestured to her head, which had a small gash, or at least that's what it felt like.

"That'd be nice," She cleared her throat once more, removing her shoes. She stopped after stripping of her jacket, standing awkwardly and hoping to give the man a hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I'll throw them in the dryer."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot.

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself clear of those warming thoughts.

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain.

"I brought a towel, and some fresh clothes," There was some shuffling before he sighed loudly. "Did you eat? Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Y/N cut him short, trying to ignore his caring need that he normally hid from the public. She wasn't any different, not anymore.

"Well, knowing you, you probably had a large coffee this morning and called it a day. And I'm not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I'm sure it didn't happen over a meal." Thomas sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. Her silence gave it away, and he soon clicked his tongue in assurance. "I'll make you something quick."

There was no resisting the water in her eyes. Pain expanded all over her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he couldn't see her get emotional behind the curtain, and there would be no tear tracks on her cheeks later.

It might seem odd to others, to those who see Thomas as a public figure, a politician. He carries power, and never lets anyone outside these doors see his vulnerability. To them, he is a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Thomas.

He was sensitive, caring for others, acting like he was just now. The newspaper titles were full of shit, they didn't have any right to criticize him because that wasn't the real him.

Of course he was passionate about his job and position, but they didn't know what Thomas acted like in the morning. They didn't know what Thomas's favorite meal to have when he's had a long day was. About his constant need to have a book to read before he goes to sleep, no matter what time it is. About what he looked like when he was in complete bliss, when he was really happy....

No, Y/N knew though.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding direct open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/N found Thomas at the table. He was standing over scattered papers, rubbing his chin softly as he thinks to himself.

While he's distracted, she takes in the house, knowing she really shouldn't, it will only hurt her or, worse, make former feelings reappear. But she can't help but look over to the wall beside him, where dozens of picture frames line up in a pattern. Some are of his parents, some of Thomas and James, there's even a group photo of his colleagues standing before Washington. She remembers how excited Thomas was that day, to finally be getting the recognition he deserves.

She also remembers that there used to be a frame below it, one that held two photos of Y/N and Thomas, holding hands, smiling. She remembers that the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, getting a good capture of piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but held so much promise.

Was suppose to hold so much promise.

Should she really be sad that he took it down? Y/N didn't deserve to feel angry or disappointed that it wasn't hanging on the wall, to be a constant reminder to anyone that walked by of what used to be.

"Food should be ready soon. I just put it in the oven to warm up." She jumped as she was released from her thoughts, Thomas now looking over at her.

"Thanks," He soon walked over to her, only feet away when he lifted up his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard as she realized what she did.

Thomas slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes. "I wasn't going to-"

"I know," Her voice was shaky, but she held a hard expression, looking at the floor.

Nodding, Thomas cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, moments later coming out with a tube of ointment. "Let's get you cleaned up?"

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just Y/N's luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel Thomas's soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she'd like it better if it was under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. Thomas shook his head slightly, and she didn't know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, Thomas pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions. Y/N smiled sadly.

"Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?"

"I can't, Thomas! You don't understand why, but I just can't-"

"Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don't you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, Y/N, why can't you trust me on that?"

"I do! I trust you with my life, Thomas! That's the problem!" The room grew silent, Thomas forming a sudden frown, eyes teary.

Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so Y/N quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction.

Lost in her own self deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His long fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting on fire every under the fabric of her underwear. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. Thomas wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. Y/N allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook.

“We’ll get through it,” Thomas whispered, his own voice a bit shaky. “Together.”

There used to be moments where Y/N would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew Thomas would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times Y/N would experience such ache, Thomas never turned away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Thomas, not again.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Apparently, him knowing exactly what she’s thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. Y/N had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go...” It sounded like a promise.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it’s just this one last time.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x oc #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #my writings #thomas jefferson #wow anyways #didn’t mean to make it so sad?

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pixie88 · 3 years

Text

Mrs. Evans

Chapter 14 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded anything new in the last week or so but I have about 6 drafts on Wattpad waiting to be transferred over. I’m hoping this chapter has been worth the wait for you guys! Thanks for being patience with me! I hope you like it.

If you would like to be ADDED or REMOVED just let me know! I hate to annoy people with tags.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & NSFW

Word Count: 2062

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

5 Weeks later

Laila is just finishing her last client of the day when her phone PINGS.

She shook her head.

Ever since that night he had picked her up from Nikki's he will not let her walk home in the evenings by herself. No matter how many times she had told him that she was fine with walking home, he'd be outside the shop waiting for her to finish at the end of her shift.

15 Minutes later

"Laila, your boyfriend is here!" Daniel calls over "OK, I'm just finishing up Mrs. Evans" she smiles up at her in the mirror.

Mrs. Evans has been one of Laila loyal clients, when she has move salons Mrs. Evans has always followed. She has to get 2 buses to get to this salon, Laila has offered to do her hair at home, but she says she likes coming to the salon as it gets her out of the house. Even though she shouldn't, Laila always charges her less than the salons prices, but unbeknownst to Mrs. Evans Laila makes up the difference through her tips.

"I'll finally get to meet this boyfriend of yours, Laila" she whispers, Mrs. Evans has a glint in her eyes "Hang on a minute! Is that why you asked for a late appointment? I've told you that he walks me home, haven't I!?" Mrs. Evans giggles "Mrs. Evans! That is sneaky!" she narrows her eyes at her with a smirk "Laila, How many times do I have to tell you it's Ivie!" Laila leans in and whispers "I know but my boss says it's unprofessional to call clients by their first names" Ivie huffs.

"Right, all done!" she gets up from the seat and hands Laila some money "There's a little extra in there to take this boyfriend for a drink" she whispers, Laila tuts "You didn't have to do that!" she isn't having any of it "Now where is he?" Laila walks her to the reception desk.

Daniel knows the drill to take the money from Laila once she has gone.

He's sat down when he saw her, his face lights up. He gets up from his seat "Mrs. Evans..I mean Ivie, this is my boyfriend Harry Taylor..Harry this is my client of..." it takes her a moment to think "11 years Mrs. Ivie Evans" he offers her his hand and a bright smile, "It's a pleasure Mrs. Evans" she smiles at him "Oh please call me Ivie. Nice to meet you Harry!" she shook his hand "Isn't he handsome Laila! He has dimples too, they say you will never be without a girlfriend if you have dimples!" Harry chuckles "Well thank you, Ivie! I bet you have broken a few hearts in your time"

Ivie blushes "I like him, Laila!" they are interrupted by the sound of a car horn "Oh, that will be my grandson! He's giving me a lift home, Laila can you book me in for 8 weeks time just text me a time. It was nice meeting you Harry, you better take care of her or I'll be after you!" Laila hides a laugh "Don't worry I will. Nice to meet you to Ivie" Harry tells her as she leaves the shop she waves over to Laila.

Once she is out of sight Laila hands Daniel the money Ivie had given her "She's paid £15?" Daniel asks "She said she put some money in there for me to get my boyfriend a drink" Laila says as she empties her tip jar and hands Daniel the extra fiver "I don't know why you don't just ask her to pay the extra tenner" Daniel shook his head "Because I've been doing her hair for years and she's a pensioner"

Harry looks at her confused "Laila, only charges Mrs. Evans £10 for haircut and makes up the difference through her tips" Daniel tells him "Ten pounds difference right?" Harry asks, pulling out his wallet and sticking a tenner in Laila tip jar "Harry!" she pulls it out and hands it back to him, he holds up his hands refusing to take it back "Harry! You can't do that!"

He shrugs his shoulders "I just did and I didn't know about the tip system last time, so call it a late tip!" She huffs "Plus, she did say to you to get your boyfriend a drink!" He winks "Fine!" She pockets Harry's tip and the rest of the jar.

She helps Daniel lock up before leaving for the day, Harry links his fingers through hers "How long have you been doing that for Ivie?" Harry asks her as they walk home "Since I moved to this salon! My other boss didn't mind, but Dave wasn't having any of it" Harry smiles at her "You know you are terribly sweet and soft! But it's also super adorable!" she rolled her eyes at him.

After Poppy told him five weeks ago about Laila's birthday, he confirmed it with Alec that it was in 6 weeks on 5th August. She will be 31, Rem had given him a few present ideas all of them, he knew she would gone nuts, it had to be something sentimental. It took him a few days, but he came up with the perfect gift for her.

~*~*~*~

A couple of days later

Harry stayed at Laila's for the night, as it was her birthday the next day. Her parents were having a do at theirs, they had invited Harry's family, but his parents were on holiday in Rome. Rose offered to for them to flight back, but Harry told them it was fine. Surprisingly Colin suggested they would take the couple out for a meal when they got back to have belated birthday celebrations.

Once Laila fell asleep, Harry managed to sneak down to his car and decorate the flat with balloons, party streamers and banners. He popped the flowers he had bought in a vase with her card, present and small birthday cake in front of the bouquet.

He crept back into bed.

The next morning he woke before her, she was laying on her side with her back towards him. He pulled her towards his chest, she began to stir, he had an idea. His lips kissed just below her ear, his hand slips into her underwear and moves to part her folds "Hmmm..." she hums. He brushes against her clit, her breathing becomes heavy.

His muscular frame surrounded her, he pulls the straps of her top down replacing them with kisses. He only has to stroke over her a couple times before her centre is soaked "Hmm....what a way to be woken up!" He smirks against her shoulder, his lips press against her ear "Happy birthday gorgeous!"

He places a small kiss against her pulse line as 2 fingers enter her, he watches her bite her lip, she pushes the curves of her arse against him and she begins to grind her curves against his crotch. He backs away "Ah ah! Today is about you!"

She huffs, he wants her just as much but today is about her. His pace quickens, her hand reaches up behind her and clutches his hair. She throbs with pleasure, a hot frenzy threads through her body to her core and as he enters another finger inside her while his thumb press onto her clit. Her eyes drift shut as she bucked her hips, legs begin to shake as he curled his long digit inside her and stroked all the right places.

She's barely holding back, the edge in near and she is more than ready to fall over it. Her clutch on his hair tightens as she hits her climax, calling out his name but before she's down from her high, he flips her onto her back, pulls off her underwear and his lips are against her apex. His tongue parts her fold "Harry, wha...what are you doing?" She feels him smirk against her core, he lifts his head a little to look up at her "Making you come in every way possible!" she doesn't get to reply before his mouth is back against her centre.

A little later

Both spent, trying to catch their breath, they collapse back against the mattress. Her head rests on his rising chest "That was one way to wake me up!" he chuckles "Get your pajamas on, I have another surprise for you," she reaches for her underwear and she grabs his t-shirt pulling over herself. "I'm going to have to cover your eyes for this part" He moves behind her, in just his boxers. His hands, cover her eyes, he guilds her into the living room he decorated the night before.

He removes his hands, her eyes refocus as she looks around the room "Wow! This is lovely!" she turns and captures his lips, he smirks "That's not all!" he points over to the dining room table, where her presents are. "You didn't have to get me anything!" he chuckles "I wanted to" she walks over and opens her card. The front reads *Happy birthday to my beautiful girlfriend*

"Open the smaller present first," he tells her, she opens the smaller one. It's a small compact mirror, she looks at him confused, he flips it over and in permanent marker it says *Your dare is to get a kiss from who you think is the most attractive person in the room* she laughs remembering this was his dare he had asked her to help him with at the stag weekend. She pulls his lips to hers, he smirks against them "At least this time you didn't tell me to kiss my own reflection" they both laugh.

"Open the other one!" she turns to the last present, she opens the box inside is a silver locket "Harry...It's...beautiful!" he smiles "Just like the one your Great Nan had?" she takes a closer look, its very simpler "It is!?" he smirks "After you told me how much you loved it. I asked Remy to get a photo of it from your parents, but that's not all look inside and check out the back of it" she flips it over.

Engraved on the back are the words and the date she asked him to be her boyfriend *I love you x 12/06/20* she opens it up and the photo is the one he took of them together on top o2 arena. She rushes him, her arms wrap round him "Thank you so much! Honestly the best present ever!" he's glad she likes it "You're welcome, I'm glad you like it. You go and get in the shower and I'll cook us up some breakfast" she places a soft kiss against his lips and makes her way towards the bedroom.

Her phone is vibrating against the bedside table, she swipes the screen, she laughs as she shook her head at her friends.

After her shower, Harry serves up her breakfast waffles and fruit, he even lights a candle on the birthday cake "What did you wish for?" he asks "A new boyfriend," she teases him, but soon regrets it when he begins to tickle her "Ahh!" she screams "What did you say, Laila?" he loves hearing her laugh "OK, I was joking! The only boyfriend I want is you" he stops "Good! The feeling is mutual, Princess"

Laila meets Nikki outside her work "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Nikki screeched at her before wrapping her arms around her friend, "Thank you! But I can't breathe" Nikki loosens her grip "What did Harry get you?" Laila lifts her locket to show her "Oh wow! Laila! That's gorgeous!" they head in for their appointment with Daniel.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 15.

@lem-20 @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @aussieez @khoicesbyk @irisofpurple @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer

#atb #Always The Bridesmaid #fictional #original writing #Original Work #original story #@pixie88 #harry x laila

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kayte-overmoon · 3 years

Text

"Slow Cherry" Chapter 4

(cross-posted on AO3)

Tags: Mild Depressive Episode, Drinking (everyone is of age; no alcohol abuse), drunk texting, accidental face reveal

Snippet: A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

Read Chapter 1 Here

Read Chapter 2 Here

Read Chapter 3 Here

No sexual content in this chapter.

Dream spent the next few weeks losing himself in his schoolwork.

Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of George, heard his voice, saw his smile. It was wreaking havoc on his attention span. His feelings toward the older man were confusing to say the least. It was easier to hyperfixate on school than to try and sort out why he felt this way about a man he’d never even met face-to-face.

Knowing they were only a few short weeks away from living not only in the same country, but the same city made it very, very hard to think about anything else.

Luckily, he had a hardcore coding assignment coming up, so he locked himself in his bedroom with the lights off and drowned himself in Python.

Sapnap noticed something was off and made sure to text Dream whenever he got food (conveniently always with a little more than one person could eat alone). On the rare occasions Dream emerged from his cave, Sapnap looked at him with concern written in every corner of his face, but he didn’t ask what was wrong. He just pushed a bottle of water or a granola bar across the counter to him and told him he looked like shit.

Dream was sure he was right. It was winter, so he hadn’t properly been in the sun in months—for a Florida boy, that was too long. He’d skipped a few showers, and the only time he’d eaten was when Sapnap made sure he did. He shuffled into the bathroom to scrutinize himself under the fluorescents. He squinted in the bright light, so used to the darkness of his room. His hair was a mess, several days overdue for a wash and unbrushed for longer than Dream could remember. He also needed to shave, not liking the scratchy growth around his jaw. There were dark circles around his blood-shot eyes and his skin was paler than it had been in years. He scoffed at himself before stripping and jumping in the shower.

The hot water burned his skin, but it was a religious experience. He hadn’t realized how far he’d pushed himself and how deep he’d let himself fall until it was over. His last final was the next morning, so he was almost done. Thank God.

As it usually did when he had a free moment, his mind strayed to George.

They had still been snapping back and forth, which soothed some of the ache. But it felt like he was looking down the barrel of addiction: he knew that taking one more hit, one more drink, would land him far beyond his limit, pushing him past the fabled Point of No Return. He considered ghosting George, but just thinking about that made his stomach turn. Sex workers got enough shit as it was without their clients pushing boundaries, trying to make something real out of their arrangements, or dropping them outright without warning.

Dream was so fucking pathetic.

He emerged from his shower scrubbed raw, physically and emotionally. He didn’t feel great in his head still, but at least he didn’t stink. He brushed his teeth to cover all his hygienic basics, put on a clean pair of pajamas, and went to bed.

And just like that his semester was over. He did well on his final—not as well as he’d hoped, considering how much time he’d spent studying, but well enough to stay on track to graduation.

He emerged from his final to find a snap from George waiting for him on his phone.

The older man was sitting on his bed, throwing a peace sign to the camera with a huge, cheesy grin. There were boxes stacked around the bed, the only thing left in the room being his bed.

Good luck on your final! Getting ready to put my stuff in the shipping container. Only a few more days.

Despite himself, Dream smiled at the message.

Dream and Sapnap celebrated the end of the semester that night in the only way college kids knew how: by buying as much beer as they could afford and inviting over as many people as they could fit into their apartment. Someone connected their phone to the sound system in the living room, blasting hip hop music over the subwoofer. Dream knew they were going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors, but he was too excited—and drunk—to care.

He got a few drinks in him and danced when he was pulled from the couch. Faces blurred before him, but he knew almost everybody there, so he didn’t mind whenever someone pressed up against him. Someone else pressed another beer into his hands. He was sweating, the heat in the apartment still fighting the December cold even with a few dozen people packed into the cramped space. His jacket came off at some point, so he was only in his beer-stained t-shirt and jeans.

He could happily say he had nothing on his mind. He was just happy, done with school for the next month and surrounded by his favorite people in the world.

But not his favorite person in the world.

No, that person wasn’t here.

He stumbled to the bathroom at one point to piss, wobbling a little and struggling to aim. He washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked much different than he had the previous night: he was flushed from the alcohol and dancing, for one, but he also felt lighter. Maybe it was the beer talking, but he felt good. He always liked life better when he wasn’t in school. And that message from George made him so, so happy.

Only a few more days.

George.

Just thinking about him made Dream smile.

He pulled out his phone just to look at the photo, which he’d screenshotted. They’d agreed they could save anything they sent each other except for nudes, which they had to get permission to keep. But innocent little messages like that one were free game. Dream was thankful for that, since it let him get a fix whenever he needed it. He found himself pulling out his phone to look at pictures of his camboy whenever he had a free moment to twiddle his thumbs.

He wrote a message to George, not really paying attention to what he said. Mainly he just wanted George to think of him while Dream was thinking of George. He sent the message and pocketed his phone. The music became unmuffled as he opened the bathroom door and someone immediately grabbed him and pulled him back into the fray.

Dream had… many regrets come morning.

Before he even opened his eyes, he knew how much of a doozy this hangover was. His head was pounding with the beat of his heart, his mouth felt packed with sand, and his stomach was turning. He felt like he needed to puke, but he was too numb to get up. Besides, he had a feeling he’d only end up dry heaving.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, debating going back to sleep. Something on the bed shifted next to him (much bigger than Patches), alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

After some coaxing, he squinted his eyes open and blinked against the scarce light peeking around the curtains—it wasn’t much light, but it was enough to make him want to die. He turned to see someone’s back facing him in the bed, a dude. Dream sent up a silent prayer of thanks that both the dude and Dream himself were fully clothed. He levered himself onto an elbow to see who was next to him. It was Skeppy, of all people, and he wasn't alone. Puffy was there too, curled up against Skeppy’s chest at the edge of the bed. Dream had no clue how neither of them had fallen off yet, so tightly wound together on the ledge. But they were there, snoozing happily.

Someone was snoring, but it wasn’t either of them. Dream sat up further and poked his head around to find Bad sprawled on the floor beside the bed. It seemed he’d wanted to get in with Skeppy and Puffy, but there hadn’t been enough room with Dream there as well. Skeppy’s hand was dangling off the side of the bed where Bad was; they must have fallen asleep holding hands. Despite his head and his stomach trying to remove themselves from his body, Dream smiled. They were all so sweet together.

He extracted himself from the bed slowly, not wanting to disturb them, and grabbed his phone charger from the power strip at his desk. He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself carefully. His phone was dead in his pocket, so he plugged it in at the bathroom counter as he set about cleaning himself up. He contemplated trying to throw up but decided against it. It might only make him even more sick. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes, but he didn’t have the energy for it yet.

A soft ding told him his phone was back on. He dried off his hands and picked it up. He had a couple of missed notifications. Karl left one saying he was taking Sapnap back to his place because someone had already taken Sapnap’s room. There was one from his next-door neighbor asking him to turn the music down or they would call the cops. Dream assumed that was a bluff, considering he didn’t remember the cops showing up at any point.

The last notification caught his eye.

It was a Snapchat message from George, received around 3 a.m.

Dream, call me when you get this. I don’t think you meant to send that. I need to talk to you.

Dream’s heart sunk.

What had he sent George? Had he drunk texted him? What had he said?

Oh God, he hadn't told him anything... incriminating, right? Had he said anything about wanting to be more than a sugar daddy, a friend with benefits, a casual observer?

There wasn’t anything saved in their chats above George’s most recent messages. The last message before that was Dream’s response to George’s “good luck with finals” message.

Wait. No it wasn’t.

The time stamp was wrong.

Dream had sent George a picture around 2:30 last night, when he was several drinks deep. He remembered going to the bathroom and texting George, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said no matter how hard he’d tried. He thought it had been a typed message in chat, not a picture.

Maybe he’d sent a dick pic? He hoped not. He had been too drunk to get it up at that point. If that’s what it was, it had to be horribly unflattering. And if not a dick pic, what had he taken a picture of?

His blood ran cold.

He was hitting the “call” button before he could overthink it.

George answered a few rings later. “Dream?”

“What did I send?” His voice was rough. He was trying to keep quiet so he didn’t bother his guests, and his mouth was dry even after brushing his teeth. He sounded like shit.

George sounded uncomfortable when he spoke. “Dream, I’m sorry. I don’t think you meant to—“

“What did I send, George?”

He knew the answer in the silence before George spoke. His stomach dropped when he said it anyway. “You—you sent me a picture of your face.”

Dream hung his head. Perfect. Of course. He’d had grand plans to pick George up from the airport and reveal his face then, or he’d at least make it sexy over their video calls or something. He wanted to make it a spectacle. Instead he’d drunk texted him a selfie.

“It wasn’t bad,” George tried to reassure him. “I couldn’t see it too clearly anyway. It was in the mirror, and you were very drunk. You were a little blurry.”

“What was I doing?”

“You were, like, leaning on the counter. You were smiling. You had a, uh…”

Dream frowned harder. “I had a what?”

“You had—have—a hickey on your neck.”

“What?” Dream stood up straight and pulled the collar of his shirt. Sure enough, there was a dark red mark on his neck, barely hidden by his shirt. “Huh. How the hell did that get there?”

George snorted. “Sounds like you had a fun night.” There was something bitter in his tone.

Dream scrambled for a response that wouldn't put him in the metaphorical dog house. “I don’t—I didn’t sleep with anyone. I would know. It just—my friends are super touchy. One of them probably did it while we were dancing.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dream,” George said softly. “I’m a big boy. I know I’m not the only person in your life.”

“I do have to explain myself, though.” Dream ran his hand through his hair. “I care what you think about me. I don’t want you to think I sleep around. I don’t. Not really. Not anymore, at least. And I wanted to surprise you when you saw my face. I wanted it to be a thing.”

“Dream, calm down.” There was something calming about the British man’s voice, especially when he used that tone, like he was soothing a spooked animal. Which, for all intents and purposes, Dream was. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. I was just worried about you. I know it’s a thing for you, people seeing your face.”

“Oh.” Dream’s heart was thundering in his chest. It was making his head throb harder, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment. “Thank you. That’s—you’re really considerate. And did you—I mean, did…”

“You’re very handsome, Dream.”

Dream was dumbfounded. That wasn’t what he was going to ask, but he’s glad George said it. He wasn’t really concerned about that particular aspect of this whole ordeal, but it was nice to know. “Oh. Thanks. That’s… you too. I mean, I think you’re—fuck.”

George’s laugh echoed across the line, settling Dream’s frazzled nerves. “I know, honey. You’ve told me before. But let's continue this conversation when you’re not so hungover, yeah?”

Dream hummed in agreement. “You can tell?”

“You were sloshed last night. I could tell just by looking at you. Partied hard, hmm?”

Dream snorted. “Just a little. I don't even want to see the state of my living room right now. And there’s, like, two-thirds of a thruple in my bed right now.”

“Oh?” Amusement and interest tinged the older man’s voice.

“No, not like that,” Dream laughed. “They passed out in there. Their third is on the floor. They’re good friends of mine. No clue when we all fell asleep though.”

“Sounds like you need to get started making coffee for everyone, then. Be a good host.”

“Probably. I thought about ordering pizza. I have no clue how many people stayed over though.”

“Celebrating the end of term, then?”

A yawn worked its way out of Dream. “Yeah,” he said. “We all finished up yesterday so we just bought a bunch of beer and invited folks over.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ll invite you next time,” Dream said, his tongue loose from his hangover. Oh well. “I think you’d like my friends. They’re all… absolutely insane. But they’re the coolest, nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

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#fanfic #dnf #dnf fanfic #dreamnotfound #dreamnotfound fanfic #camboy au #historians will say they were close friends #:)#very close friends #slow cherry #kayte overmoon

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skiller0dani · 4 years

Text

Lockdown | Dean Winchester

M A S T E R L I S T Supernatural Masterlist

smut requests info been in a BIG Dean mood. working on some Timmy stuff. thanks for being patient with me. love you all xx

“You stay. You’re hurt.” Dean said, his voice low and stern. You pouted as you watched Sam sling a bag over his shoulder and send you a guilty smile. Dean shot you a serious look before he knelt down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. You had recently gone on a hunt with Sam and Dean, but you ended up getting hurt pretty bad. You’d been in a warehouse hunting a demon, you tried to stab it but the demon deflected. You ended up getting tossed out the window and fell 2 stories to the ground, you’d broken 3 ribs and your back was also hurt pretty bad. Dean freaked out, he thought you were dead when he saw you laying on the sidewalk. He carried you to the Impala and then into the Bunker, but now Dean is putting you on lockdown. He doesn’t let you leave the Bunker, hell he doesn’t even let you get your cereal from the top shelf. He does everything for you, making you rest in bed. The worst part of this recovery however is that Dean refuses to touch you.

He doesn’t want to risk hurting you, so the two of you haven’t had sex in nearly a month. It’s driving you absolutely crazy. Your fingers aren’t even getting you off anymore, you need Dean. It took you nearly a week to convince him to sleep in the same bed as you at first, he’s limiting contact with you to allow you to heal but you can’t take it anymore. So as you watch your very sexy boyfriend and his brother exit the Bunker you bite your tongue to keep from screaming in frustration. There is still some bruising along your spine, and your ribs have mostly healed. The biggest nuisance is the soreness, your ribs and chest are so sore. It took you ages to even convince Dean to go on this hunt in the first place.

“I’ll just get someone else on it.” Dean said, and you rolled your eyes. You laid back in yours and Dean’s shared bed, “go. I’ll be fine.” You insist but Dean looks up with one of his famous ‘deadpan glares’. Reaching forward Dean lifts your shirt to inspect the deep purple, yellow and blue bruising along your chest and upper abdomen. He looks up at you, concern swimming behind his eyes as he turns back to his phone. “Baby really, I’ll be fine for a few days.” You insist and finally Dean sighs in defeat. You and he both know he’s going stir crazy in this Bunker, “you start to hurt, something happens, anything happens you call me. Understood?” Dean asks, taking your hands in his and you nod with a smile on your face.

Before he left however Dean insisted on moving any foods in the cupboard to a place you could reach. So most of the food is sitting on the counter even though you told Dean that wasn’t necessary. You grabbed some crackers and cheese from the kitchen before moving back into yours and Dean’s room. You lifted a book from the bookshelf, a large collection of the original Grimm Fairy Tales. You read the book word by word, trying your best to focus on the stories in front of you. You feel a heat simmering through your entire body as you look down at the sheets, oh how many times Dean’s made you cum on these sheets. You feel a throb begin to drum between your thighs as you imagine Dean’s perfect cock stretching you open. You take a deep breath while shaking your head before trying to refocus on the book. You continue reading a story called ‘Tom Thumb’, a very strange tale about a man who is only as big as a thumb.

But once again as you continue to read, your mind wanders back to Dean. You imagine feeling his hands on you, running down your sides, slapping your ass, teasing up your inner thighs. You can practically feel the razor burn from his stubble lining his cheeks as he buries his head between your thighs. “Fuck it.” You mutter as you reach for your phone. You’re throbbing and practically dripping wet as you peel your clothes off. If Dean’s going to refuse to fuck you, then you’re going to make sure he’s suffering as much as you are. You undress down to your panties before posing in front of a floor length mirror you recently bought. You’re sitting on your knees with your thighs spread eagle wide so Dean can see how wet your panties are, and your elbows are pressing your breasts together. You snap the picture before sending it to Dean with the following message attached.

Miss you xx

Dean sits in the hotel room, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes read over a website on rugaru lore. He wishes more than anything that you were here, he hates going on hunts without you. Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers you on your knees during the last hunt, taking his cock all the way down your throat. He groans deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose, he can still feel your hot wet mouth around him. Dean feels his cock swelling in his jeans when his phone vibrates. When he looks down he sees a message from you with a photo attached. Odd. You don’t normally send him pictures. Dean opens the message and when he sees the picture he feels a tingle shoot straight through his hard cock. You’re kneeling in front of the new mirror, your perfect legs spread open allowing Dean a view of your wet panties. Your breasts are nearly spilling out of your bra and you have such an innocent look on your face. Dean quickly types a reply and hits send.

You wait for a few minutes before your phone vibrates.

Christ baby. This hunt is sure as hell gonna be a lot harder with you sending me shit like this.

You smile at his message when a wicked idea pops up in your head. You posed again, but this time you slid the crotch of your underwear to the side, revealing your bare pussy. You send it to Dean with another teasing message crafted.

Though I’m not sure if I miss you or your cock more. ;)

Dean nearly topples the table over to grab his phone when it finally vibrates again. He taps on the picture and he feels his cock throb painfully against his jeans. His eyes focus on your bare pussy, glistening in the light. Dean immediately responds, you’re really not making this ‘no sex’ rule easy on him. But he has work to do and he’s never going to get it done if you keep sending him pictures like this.

I’ve gotta focus baby.

You pout at his reply, tossing your phone back on the bed. Your pussy is throbbing as you lean back against the bed. These next few days until Dean gets home are going to be harder than you thought.

***

Over the next few days you continue to send Dean raunchy pictures. One of you splayed out on the bed, another of you in the shower, bent over the kitchen table. You were wet and horny and now you were driving Dean to sex induced insanity. Every time his phone goes off he tenses up, trying to control his raging hard on before he even sees the picture. Sure enough when he opens his phone his cock stands at attention when he sees you with a vibrator buried inside yourself. “Fucking Christ,” Dean mutters to himself as he waits near the Impala for Sam to finish packing his stuff. Dean tries to subtly readjust himself in his jeans so Sam doesn’t see the bulge.

On my way back Princess. Better be naked and waiting for me when I get home.

Dean’s messages sends tingles to shoot through your entire body, thankfully this hunt was already in Kansas so they didn’t need to go far. You practically skip to yours and Dean’s room as you begin to pull your clothes off. You leave a trail of clothes from the hallway to the bedroom and soon you’re sitting on the mattress- stark naked. You feel heat spreading through your entire body and the wait is absolutely brutal. Your nipples are erect as the cool air brushes over them, and your pussy feels as though it’s melting into the bed due to how wet it is. Finally you hear the Bunker door swing open and slam shut. You hear two deep voices and some laughter echo through the hallways. You hear steps coming down the hallway before they come to a stop. “Uh Dean? Y/N needs you.” Sam groans uncomfortably when he notices your clothes scattered through the hallway. You smirk to yourself and try not to giggle as you imagine the grimace on Sam’s face.

You hear a second pair of boots coming down the hallway and soon the door handle is turning. When the door swings open you see Dean standing in the doorway, you also see your bra hanging on the door handle. Yours and Dean’s sign for Sam to...not disturb you. Dean’s pupils are dilated as he kicks the door shut with his foot, and you can see his hard on through his jeans. “So baby do you wanna tell me why you tried to distract me when I was working?” Dean asks, his voice lower than it usually is as he crossed his arms. You squirmed under his heated gaze, your thighs rubbing together. “I-I missed your cock baby. You haven’t fucked me for weeks.” You complain, your eyes refusing to meet Dean’s. You keep your eyes down when you feel the bed shift as Dean sits at the end of it, his hand bringing your head up to look at him. “I couldn’t fuck you because you got hurt Princess.” He explains gently as your eyes meet his.

“Well I’m better now, please fuck me Dean.” You plead, your fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket to try and pull his lips to yours. Dean however is much stronger than you and doesn’t move an inch as you tug on his jacket. “Does it still hurt baby?” Dean asks, his lips brushing against yours and you immediately shake your head no. “Only a little sore. Dean please I need your cock so bad baby.” You plead again, nearing tears as your hand reaches down to jerk him through his jeans. Dean’s resolve finally breaks as he gently lays you back on the bed, still making sure to be careful not to hurt you. His hands run up your stomach to cup your breasts, his lips following the path his hands took. His mouth curls around your left nipple, his thumb and pointer finger pinching at the other. You cry out, sensitive due to lack of contact for so long. Your fingers curl into the short hairs at the back of his head as you pull his head closer to your chest. Your back arches into him as Dean begins to grind his clothed cock against your wet pussy. “Princess you have no idea how badly I’ve missed being inside you.” Dean groans as his lips find your neck and one hand slides down your stomach to toy with your clit.

You cry out again, your arms curling around his shoulders to hold him closer to you. Dean’s lips trail kisses up your neck before his lips meet yours at the same time that he slides 2 digits into you. Your moan is muffled by his lips as he begins to slowly pump his fingers inside you. “God baby,” Dean groans when he pulls back to admire you. Your body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat and your head is thrown back as you cry out softly. You feel your high building when you push Dean off you and roll over to straddle his waist. Dean’s eyes are wide and a smile is on his face when you frantically reach for the buckle of his belt. His smile widens when you slide down his legs after you take his cock out to slip the head into your mouth. Dean’s head is thrown back as you take him down your throat the first time. Groans tumble from his lips as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down his length. His hand twists into your hair as he guides your head to move along his cock faster. When Dean feels his hips begin to stutter he yanks you off him before rolling over you again.

“Baby if you start to hurt tell me mkay?” Dean says, the head of his cock parting your lips as he looks up into your eyes. His head brushes over your clit, causing a whine to fall past your lips, “okay baby. Now please get inside me.” You plead desperately and Dean doesn’t need to be asked twice. Dean slides into you with one push of his hips and both of you release sighs of relief. “Fuck baby you’re so tight, it really has been a while.” Dean groans into your neck as his arms wind protectively around you to pull you close to his chest. You can do nothing but moan in response as Dean pulls his hips back before pushing into you again. Dean sets a gentle, slower pace as he slides out so far only his head is still inside you before he thrusts into you again. The pace is steady as he rocks into you, and your hips meet his thrusts. Your chest feels sore as Dean’s head buries into your neck but you don’t say anything because you know he’ll stop and shit you never want him to stop. “Dean, baby don’t stop. God don’t stop baby please I’m so close.” You beg, your voice broken as your nails dig into his shoulders. Dean continues to pump into you, feeling his own high nearing as you clench around his cock when you cum. When you press kisses to his shoulders and squeeze around him again Dean is pulling out and cumming in hot thick ropes on your stomach.

After taking a moment to catch your breaths, Dean presses a hot kiss to your lips before standing from the bed. He reaches into the desk for a box of tissues and he cleans the cum off your stomach before he collapses onto the bed next to you. Dean wraps an arm around you to pull you into his chest and you inhale sharply as pain rushes through you. Dean’s eyebrows raise in concern as he eyes you, “your ribs fucking hurt don’t they?” He asks, both guilt and concern rushing through him. You bring his lips down to yours as you kiss him sweetly, “just sore.” You reassure him before you pull Dean back down to lay next to you. Dean doesn’t entirely believe you but he decides to leave it alone to preserve the gentle nature of this moment. “I love you baby, you’re such a tease.” Dean growls playfully before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into him, a smile on your face. “I love you Dean.”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x reader smut #Supernatural smut #Sam Winchester #supernatural #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn imagine

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sevenstarsinning · 4 years

Text

Summary: Raditz loses his mate when Planet Vegeta is destroyed and finds himself working alongside Prince Vegeta. When he comes to Earth to recruit his brother, he’s dealt another devastating blow when Goku refuses to join and leaves him near death. He’s found by a human and attempts to adapt to life on Earth.

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4

Chapter 5

Morning dew coated the outside of the pod and birds chirped on the tree branch nearby. It was way too cheery for early morning. Being awake at that time usually meant you either couldn't sleep at all or woke up long before you should have.

That morning you woke up too early but it was entirely Raditz's fault and you were more than okay with that.

Sometime during the night he wrapped his tail around your waist and pulled you up to sleep on his chest. That was where you woke up and that's where you remained, listening to him purr while his body heat kept you warm. The rise and fall of his chest was like a gentle rocking putting you completely at ease. That was no easy feat and there he was making you feel safe and content without even trying.

You lifted your head up to see he was awake. It felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you realized something was different.

"You're awake... and you're still purring."

His eyes locked onto yours and the butterfly feeling spread to your chest and throat leaving you seconds from saying something you probably shouldn't say.

"I'm comfo-"

"You're beautiful," you blurted. Your eyes widened and you let out a nervous laugh.

His brow raised in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, you expected him to push you over to your side of the pod.

Instead, he smiled and struggled to keep his eyes on yours. He was nervous and you had no idea why.

"I've been called many things but uh... that's a new one," he finally said, breaking the anxiety inducing silence between you.

"Was that a bad thing to say?" You asked, unable to hide the worry in your voice and on your face.

"No, not bad at all. Just new."

When you saw the smile that spread across his face, you realized making a complete fool of yourself in front of him didn't bother you at all. In fact, you were willing to let it happen more just to see that smile. It was like a potent dose of serotonin and you needed more.

"I think I have a solution to our housing problem," you revealed, changing the subject to avoid doing something incredibly stupid.

His tail tightened around your waist and you knew he wasn't letting you up anytime soon.

Later that day, you and Raditz embarked on your first journey away from the house together. He usually stayed back when there were errands to run or groceries to buy. He wasn't a small guy by any stretch of the imagination and walking side by side with him downtown drew the gaze of many people passing by. It wasn't just his size that made people take notice, it was also his gorgeous mane of black hair that nearly touched the ground and his bulging muscles stretching the material of his t-shirt and jeans. It was Raditz in general, all the way down to the way he carried himself and the air of confidence he seemed to be naturally gifted with.

"This is definitely the place," you said, opening the door to a white dome shaped building.

Raditz shuffled in behind you, almost filling the doorway completely. A purple haired girl with the Capsule insignia on her shirt approached.

"Welcome to the Capsule store, my name is Lynn. Is there anything I can help you find?"

Her eyes drifted over to the huge saiyan next to you. He tilted his head, curious about her. Then it struck you, Raditz had little to no experience around other humans.

"Yeah, my house was half demolished when a... plane crashed into it." You knew exactly how ridiculous it sounded but saying a space pod carrying a hot alien crash landed on your house was out of the question.

"Was it a... an alien ship?" Lynn asked, glancing up at Raditz.

"How do you know that, human?" He said, stepping closer to the much smaller human.

"My boyfriend- " Before she could finish her sentence, an alarm blared and red lights flashed overhead. The ceiling opened up but before you could see what was happening, the tail tucked under Raditz's shirt flung out and coiled around your waist, pulling you safely behind him.

"You're supposed to be dead!" A voice called out amidst the chaos.

You peeked around Raditz to see an entire row of artillery from the ceiling aimed at him. A teal haired woman standing on the other side glared, not the least bit intimidated.

"Hey, can you get the insane security to stand down, he's not going to hurt anyone," you yelled back, waving your hand.

"Is that... is that a human behind you?" The woman asked, trying to get a better view.

"Help me out, big guy, your tail won't let me go," you said. Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest. Everything happened so fast you barely had time to react.

"And put you in harm's way? No, you stay back there, this is Kakarot's friend," Raditz growled.

"Wait... you mean Goku?" Lynn said from behind a shield that went up around her automatically.

"Raditz, calm down. They haven't attacked, we can talk to them," you whispered. It was hard to hide the panic in your voice over the predicament you found yourself in.

"Human, where is Kakarot?" Raditz asked, turning his attention to Lynn.

"Enough!" The other woman shouted. "If you promise to keep him on a leash, I'll disarm security."

"Raditz, please?" You begged, lightly scratching the back of his head to soothe him.

He let out a little growl and loosened his tail. "Fine."

The red lights retracted along with the row of weapons and disappeared into the ceiling.

"All I have to do is hit one button and those will come back out, so don't try anything," the woman said, approaching him without a trace of fear.

"I'm Bulma, I'm assuming you're the one taming the saiyan?" She stepped around him to look at you.

"Trying to," you laughed nervously. Raditz still had his tail around you, protecting you even without an immediate threat.

"Come on, let's go out back and talk. Lynn, close up and go home. Make sure Goku knows about this," Bulma said, giving out orders as she guided you and Raditz towards the back of the dome.

The back door led to a shaded patio with a row of tables and thick, beautiful foliage lining the sides to offer privacy to anyone sitting out there.

"Raditz can sit there," Bulma said, pointing at the first table, "we're going to the back table."

"No, I'm staying with her," he snapped, his tail coiling tight around your waist again.

"It's okay, big guy. I'm safe, this is like the smartest and richest woman in the world," you said, nodding towards Bulma. He eyed her wearily but relented and loosened his hold.

You gave him a reassuring smile before following her to the last table.

"Sorry about the security system in there, it's not even loaded with ammo, it's just a deterrent. What did you come in for?" Bulma asked, taking a seat at the last round white table.

"A house. His pod wrecked mine when he landed. We've actually been sort of living in his pod and it's not very roomy," you explained.

Bulma was unfazed by all of it and that piqued your curiosity.

"You've been sleeping in the pod with him? Has anything happened?" She leaned in and kept her voice low.

"Not really. It was a little rough at first but he's adjusting," you said in a hushed voice.

"That's good. He's definitely a lot less hostile than I remember." She glanced past you at Raditz. You could tell her mind was racing, sorting through the chaos that just came back into her life.

The two of you talked for a while, you filled her in on Raditz and she told you about Goku and the little bit she knew about saiyans. You were looking forward to meeting him at some point and even though it was a long shot given the history, maybe Raditz and Goku could at least talk. That could be a step towards him finding happiness on Earth.

"I'll make you deal. If you keep an eye on him and tell me if anything weird happens, I'll give you a capsule house." She said it like she was giving you a piece of cake as opposed to a whole house.

"Bulma, no. That's way too much, let me pay," you countered.

She reached in her pocket and pulled out a handful of capsules. "How many bedrooms were you thinking?"

"Just one, that's all I can really do at the moment."

She settled on a pink capsule and placed it on the table in front of you. "That's a three bedroom. It's one of the models we used for photos so it's fully furnished and you're not paying for it."

"Bulma, you don't even know me. I-"

"Your saiyan back there came to Earth to recruit Goku. The only reason he's here is because of my friend which means your house is gone because of this. It's the least we can do for you," she said, pushing the capsule closer.

"And remember, call me immediately if anything feels off with him, okay? This is a direct line to me," she said, passing a business card to you with the Capsule logo shimmering on the top left corner and a phone number scrawled across the bottom.

"At least let me pay you something for this, please?" You pleaded with her.

"Absolutely not. Just come to my next party, I’ll introduce you to Goku," she said, refusing to take no for an answer as she headed back inside the building.

On your way back to the car, Raditz remained silent. There was no good way to approach the subject of his brother. That had to be weighing on him.

"What's that place?" He finally spoke, pointing towards the small building on the other side of the road.

"It's a bar. One of my favorites actually," you replied, coming to a stop at a four way intersection.

"What's a bar?"

"A place where people usually drink strong tasting liquids that make them feel funny."

"Strong liquids?" He raised an eyebrow and sat forward just enough to see past his hair which had taken up residence between the two of you.

"We call it alcohol. It's how I ended up in that field the night I found you."

"Libations. That's what we called them."

Instead of continuing straight through the intersection, you made a quick left followed by a right and pulled into the parking lot.

You entered the old, dimly lit bar with Raditz in tow. The evening crowd was starting to trickle in.

Raditz found a table while you ordered drinks. You leaned back against the bar while you waited, watching him mess with the phone you gave him. It looked so small in his hands and he looked adorable navigating what he called primitive technology.

After very carefully walking back to your table, you sat a tray full of drinks in the middle and pulled out a chair.

A big, strong arm wrapped around your waist and the next thing you knew, you were sitting in Raditz's lap. You were already so used to cuddling with him in the pod that you didn't think anything of it.

As the day turned to night, you introduced Raditz to all of your favorite drinks and even some you didn't like just to see his reaction. Aside from trips back to the bar to order more drinks, he kept you in his lap with an arm around your waist.

He required a ton of alcohol to even get a buzz and you were content sipping and never getting totally drunk. One of you had to stay a little sober to avoid bad decisions.

"What is this one?" Raditz asked, holding up a pint glass of blue liquid.

"That is your last drink of the night, big guy." You grabbed it and took a quick sip before handing it back.

"It's called... last drink of the night?" He stared at the glass, confused by the weird name.

"It's called an Adios Motherfucker."

"Say that again but... slower," he said with a big goofy smile. Drunk Raditz wasn't too different from the sober version. The thing you noticed the most was the sadness in his eyes. You watched it slowly fade until it was gone completely. His smiles lit up his entire face and he laughed louder.

"Can I have another one of these?" He asked, holding up his empty glass.

"Dude, I've already had to drag you to my house once, we're not doing that again," you chided.

"Human... sweetheart- just one?" He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.

"Human sweetheart. That's a new one," you laughed, shaking your head at how ridiculously cute he was.

You relented and bought him one more drink. The expensive bar tab made you feel sick but it was worth every penny to see him finally shed the darkness that enveloped him. Even if it was only for a night.

As soon as the chilly night air hit your face, you regretted not bringing a jacket.

"Saiyan, give me your warmth," you said, ducking underneath his massive arm.

"We not driving?" He asked, lifting you into his arms like a child.

"I've had one too many drinks." You buried your face against his neck and settled in for the walk home. Luckily it wasn't far and you liked getting carried by Raditz, especially with his hands on your ass to hold you up.

"You smell good," he said in a sleepy voice as you neared your half destroyed house.

"You can still smell my perfume? I figured that would've faded by now."

"No... not that," he muttered, burying his face against your neck to sniff you. If it was anyone else, you probably would've freaked out.

"Your scent, the normal one."

You pulled back and smiled. “Wait, do you have some kind of heightened sense of smell that I don’t know about?”

“Yeah, it’s a saiyan thing. We can pick up on scents and changes in scents we’re familiar with. Particularly with females we’re close to or want to be close to.”

He crossed the lawn to the backyard and lowered you to the ground. “How does this capsule thing work?”

You pulled it from your pocket, clicked the small button and tossed it approximately where you wanted your new house to be.

“Holy shit, Bulma,” you said in awe of the beautiful house she gave you. It was far too much and you were already trying to figure out ways to pay her back. You and Raditz explored the house briefly before calling it a night, exhausted from the day.

You tossed and turned even though the new bed was the most comfortable thing you had ever laid on. The temperature in the room was perfect and it was dark enough, but something still wasn't right.

You knew what it was but you didn't want to acknowledge it. Lines had already been crossed on multiple levels with your unexpected roommate. You shared the pod out of necessity, nothing more.

Minutes ticked by and you only seemed to get less sleepy. You finally got annoyed enough to get out of bed and go to the living room, but you didn't make it there. You ran straight into a wall of saiyan at the end of the hallway.

"Holy shit! What the hell are you doing out here?" You stepped back and saw him carrying a glass of water.

"I can't sleep so I got a glass of water. That a crime, you tiny pain in the ass?" He asked with a little smirk.

"No, it's not a crime, you giant pain in the ass," you said in a mocking tone.

"Can I sleep with you?"

You knew he meant actual sleep, but your brain processed it in a different way entirely and it left your panties wet.

"Sure," you said, against your better judgement.

He followed you back to your room and walked around to the other side of the bed while you got back under the covers on your side. He laid down and turned on his side to face you.

"Bedroom not comfy enough?" You asked, scooting closer to him. He draped his arm over you and started to fade right away.

"Not that... just didn't have you," he said before drifting off to sleep.

You were wide awake until he started purring, head rested against your shoulder. It didn't matter how much you tried to fight off the feelings you were having for him, they weren't going away. The last thought you had before you finally fell asleep was the realization that you needed Raditz by your side to fall asleep.

A loud crash outside made the entire house shake. Raditz was up in the blink of an eye checking the window to see what it was. His tail fluffed up and moved wildly behind him.

You scrambled out of bed to look for yourself but there was nothing, just the backyard.

"What's wrong, big guy? Are you seeing something I'm not?"

"I need you to stay behind me and if anything happens to me, run," he said, effectively scaring the hell out of you.

"What? You can't just say that with no explanation! What's going on?" Your anxiety skyrocketed as he moved past you to head towards the living room.

"Raditz- "

"Behind me," he snapped.

Before you could protest, the front door was kicked completely off the hinges and left in a mangled heap on the floor. A tall, muscular guy with short, spiky black hair walked in. One eye was covered with some kind of device you had never seen.

"This is what you've been doing, huh? There's something incredibly wrong about a domesticated Saiyan," the man said with a cocky grin.

A shorter man stepped in behind him, black hair shooting towards the sky like small spires. He also had the same device covering one of his eyes and he somehow looked even more intimidating than the bigger one.

"Prince Vegeta, Turles," Raditz said, giving them each a nod.

#raditz x reader #raditz #let you go fic #supremeleadershitlord

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

Text

Can’t Go Back Part 11

A/N: Next chapter is here. This one has some angst. I expected dinner to go longer but the angst felt like it needed to take precedent. There is a slight time jump about half way through the chapter. Feedback is always appreciated! Trigger warning alcohol abuse. implied drunk driving.

I was up early again the next morning to start getting things ready for dinner. The counter quickly became a picture of organized chaos. I had ingredients for dessert out on the island, waiting to be made into my mum’s favourite cake. Monty woke up a while later and after a cup of coffee, was ready to help me cook. “Morning love.” I greeted after he finished his coffee.

“Morning you.” He kissed my forehead softly. “What do you need help with first?”

“Can you grab the mushrooms and plastic wrap please? I’m getting ready to start heating the pan for the meat up now.”

“Sure thing. What am I doing with them?”

“Blitzing them.” I stated. Looking up from my cake recipe, I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. He looks so confused. It’s adorable.

“What now? Also don’t do that.”

“Blitzing them. In the food processor until they’re chopped small. Don’t do what?” I asked, coyly, pushing his very pushable buttons.

“You know exactly what. Don’t think I’m not taking note of all these tests missy. It’s going to be a very long day for you in a few weeks.”

“Oh I’m counting on you noting.” I muttered under my breath. He growled lowly and I whimpered. “Mushrooms mister. That’s what you need to be concerned with. Not sex.”

“The mushrooms can wait a few minutes.”

“We can’t have sex and I’m not giving you a blowjob in the kitchen.” I told him as I moved to the stove to turn on the heat.

“I didn’t say anything about blowjobs or the kitchen Addison.”

I paused. Insufferable. “You are such a little shit. Sit down and blitz my mushrooms.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Don’t ever call me that again. It’s too domme-y for me.”

Monty laughed and muttered a retort under his breath. Ignoring his sexual comment and the ever-present sexual tension, I set about getting the cake batter ready.

While the cake was in the oven, I set about searing the meat and getting the prosciutto ready for wrapping. I could feel Monty’s eyes on me as I worked. He gave me the bowl of the food processor and I dumped them into a dry pan, as per the recipe instructions. The meat was seared off and resting on a plate. Everything was going according to plan. I had Monty slather the tenderloin in mustard and wrap it tightly again. “Now it sits in the fridge for a while.”

“I can think of many things we can do to occupy our time.” He smirked, cheekily at me.

“Montgomery. No.”

“Okay, okay. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” I grinned at him and walked around the island, over to the laundry closet.

“You can help me fold laundry instead.”

“Oh joy.” He rolled his eyes playfully. I giggled at him and he smiled. Together, we went about folding the laundry on our bed and organizing it into the appropriate drawers. He made the odd lude comment on my underwear and I simply shook my head. My man and his one-track mind.

Once the laundry was folded, we set the table and got a few more dinner elements ready to be cooked. Mom loves mashed garlic potatoes, so I tossed some garlic in oil and roasted it. Soon, the whole house smelled like the sweet aroma of roasted garlic. I had Monty man the vegetables while I went and changed into my red sweater dress. He changed into a dressier flannel and crisp white t-shirt. How can one man make white look so nice? We spent the rest of the day taking care of minor household things and enjoying each other’s company.

My parents arrived at five, with salad in hand. Dad must have told her we were having food. “Hey Mum, hey Dad.” I called from my place at the island. I lit a cinnamon candle a few minutes ago to cover the garlic smell.

“Hi sweetie. Where’s my favourite son-in-law?” Mom joked.

“Right here. Hi Margot. Happy birthday.” Monty greeted her, exiting our room and balancing his crutches to hug her. “Hey Brooks.” He greeted my dad.

“Hey Monty. How’s the leg feeling? Hey Addy.” My dad asked, hanging up their coats before walking over and giving me a side hug. It was still kind of awkward for my dad to hug me, but I smiled and hugged him back.

“Meh. It’s feeling okay. The pain comes and goes.”

“It feels better when he actually uses his crutches and rests.” I teased playfully.

“Yes dear.” He shot back. I shook my head, smiling, and got the waiting wellington out of the fridge. The oven beeped as I closed the door and put it in.

“Happy birthday mom.”

“Thank you. It smells delicious.”

“Beef wellington and garlic mashed potatoes with steamed assorted carrots.”

“My favourite.” She smiled.

“Babe would you mind filling a pot with water for the potatoes?”

“Sure.” I nodded and went about peeling the potatoes. “Salt?”

“Yes please. Oh, and Justin says happy birthday too mom.”

“Tell him thank you for me.”

“I will.”

The four of us spent the half hour while dinner cooked and rested, chatting about our weeks. Dinner was fairly uneventful, but delicious. Mum loved her new pumpkin vanilla candle and chocolate strawberry tea. Dad and I continued to try and navigate our new relationship. All in all, it was a nice way to end a weekend.

A couple of weeks later, Montgomery was given the all clear to begin physio by Dr. Marcus. Thankfully for both of us, that also meant he was cleared to begin to foray back into “physical intimacy”. Nothing too crazy yet. Yeah right. That’ll last maybe one round. It seemed that he was more excited to get to drive home than to have sex for the first time in weeks. In addition to sex, he was also able to give up the crutches for the most part. It was only if there was a particularly intense physio session, he would use them. He still wasn’t cleared to play sports, nor would he be for quite some time.

Even with not being able to actually play ball, being one step closer to that goal, seemed to help bring him back to normal a bit. Everything was going great for a week or two. He would go to physio three times a week and do his assigned exercises without complaint. He made sure not to push himself too hard. He didn’t stay out very late on game nights, and when he did, he would call or text me to let me know he was okay and on his way home.

I woke up to the sound of something crashing to the floor. In my half-sleeping state, I reached out to Montgomery’s side of the bed and found it cold. Feeling my nerves grow at being alone in the house, I checked the alarm clock beside the bed. 2:24am. I gulped and got out of bed, grabbing one of Monty’s sweaters to wear and the baseball bat he kept next to the dresser. I’ll never give him crap for keeping a bat next to the bed again.

Walking out of our room, I turned a corner and heard a very familiar voice. Monty was standing in the living room, muttering curse words to himself. I lowered the bat and turned on the lamp, causing him to jump, trying to hide what he had broken behind him. I could tell he was wasted just by looking at him. He had to hold on to the wall to keep himself upright. I set my face stoically and stared at him for a moment. It was then that I saw what he had broken. It was the framed photo on our side table, of us on our wedding day. Now I’m a little more upset. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” I stated with my arms folded at my chest. He didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at me with an odd mixture of surprise and guilt. I shook my head and pivoted around to go back to bed, but not before firmly shutting the bedroom door.

The next morning, I woke up and got ready as usual. I walked out to the kitchen and did a double take at what I was witnessing. Shockingly, Monty was up and dressed in clean clothes already. He even had a cup of coffee to drink. I didn’t hear him come in our room. “Morning.” He said, from his seat at the table. He didn’t appear to be nursing that bad of a hangover, shockingly. Still mad, I ignored him, making myself a cup of coffee and getting my bag together for school. I didn’t spare the side table a glance, knowing that if I did, I would snap. His eyes followed my every move, probably internally begging me to speak to him.

“I’m meeting with my English teacher before class so I’m leaving now.” was all I said to him before I left the house.

I left the meeting with Mr. Luft about a recommendation letter in better spirits than when I left the house. It was a short-lived feeling because I spotted Monty brooding from across the hall. I knew he was waiting for me because he had neither a locker nor a class in this building at this time. My anger came back in full force when I saw him. Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I walked straight past him. He followed close behind, hot on my heels. “Addy can we please talk about this?” I didn’t respond. He sighed gruffly, “can you say anything at all to me?” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see my face. When we were away from students, in a less crowded area of the building, he tried again. “Addison, please?”

“I’m not fighting with you in public.” I told him, not turning around.

“We don’t have to fight in public. Will you please just say something about what happened? Are you really this upset about the fact that I broke a picture frame?” Upset that he… seriously? That’s what he thinks this is about? I mean, I’m upset that its broken, but it can be replaced. I’m upset because he came home drunk… again. I’m upset because he didn’t even text me to let me know he wasn’t coming home for a while, if it all. I’m not upset because of a goddamn picture frame.

“Don’t bother coming home tonight.” I ground out before walking away.

My friends were surprised when I walked over to their table at lunch and put my bag down, rather aggressively. “Hey Addy.” Tony greeted.

“Hey.” I replied, trying to keep the shortness out of my tone.

“How’re you?” Alex asked, digging around in his lunch bag.

“Fine. But let’s not talk about me. How are you guys?”

“Right. Fine. Uh… I’m good.” Justin said, giving me a cursory glance.

“I’m good too. Justin learned not to throw food at me in bed this morning.” Clay added.

“Justin don’t throw food at your brother. It’s rude.” I told him, shaking my head.

“Or keep doing it so we can give Clay a hard time about it, your choice.” Alex laughed. We carried on for a while, my friends bringing a smile and some light to what had started as a very gloomy day. The light shifted again when Scott approached our table.

“Addison, can we talk for a minute?”

“About?” I asked casually, as I dipped my cucumber in salsa.

“Why Monty is eating fruit snacks, fruit snacks, and sadness for lunch?”

“I had a meeting this morning.”

“Okay. What about the fact that he said you told him not to come home tonight?” he implored. My friends froze.

“Yes.” I stated.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to discuss it with you. It’s our business.”

“Addy. He’s my best friend and he is upset. It is my business.”

“What happened Addison?” Justin asked, reaching across the table for my hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I muttered, feeling like I was being backed into a corner and struggling to find my way out. I pulled my hand out of Justin’s reach. He’s the one who screwed up here. Not me. Stop making me feel like garbage for needing some space for one day. Scott shook his head, in disbelief.

“Well you’re going to have to talk to him. You’re stuck together now. Or did you forget about the whole ‘better or worse’ part of your vows?”

That got my anger going again. “I am not discussing my marriage with you Scott Reed. Especially not in a room full of people who are just counting the days until we decide we made a mistake and file for divorce. This is an issue between my husband and me. Not my husband, me, and my husband’s best friend. And never insinuate that I do not take my vows seriously again.” I whisper-yelled, standing to walk away. Justin stood up too.

“I just want to help. He’s my best friend and you’re my friend.”

“You can help by giving him a place to crash tonight.” I said, walking away.

Justin followed behind me with my bag, which I left at the table in my haste to get away from the situation. He pulled me into an empty classroom, and I felt hot, angry, sad tears fill my eyes.

“What happened Addy?”

I tried to respond but all that would come out were gasps and squeaks. Justin pulled me into his arms and embraced me while I cried in his chest. The frustration of the last thirteen hours had finally reared its head and I couldn’t stop the floodgates from opening. A knock on the door made me remember where we were, and I stepped away from my best friend. Scott opened the door a bit and poked his head in the room.

“Can we talk about this now?”

I didn’t respond but Justin waved him in the room and motioned for him to shut the door. We stared at each other for a solid three minutes before I spoke, “I told you I’m not discussing my marriage with you Scott.”

“If he is going to spend the night in my parents’ guest room, I think I deserve to know what actually happened to cause it.”

“What did he tell you?” I asked, sighing.

“That he broke the picture from your wedding last night. But you wouldn’t be this mad about a picture frame, so there has to be more to the story.”

I laughed humourlessly. “Yeah. Try ‘broke it this morning’ when he came home at 2:30 so wasted he could barely hold himself up. And couldn’t call or send me a fucking text message that he would be out late. I was up until 12:30 worrying about him, when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.” The boys gaped at me. “Left that part out, did he?”

“Uh… yeah. He did.” Scott paused briefly. “I thought you guys talked about the occasionally overdrinking. And it was basically a non-issue now.”

“It was until last night.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Justin offered. “From what you’ve said I don’t think he’s an alcoholic by any means, and NA is different than AA, but the basics are the same.”

“I don’t know. I think I need to talk to him first and see if he will tell me what’s going on. This can’t become a thing.”

“A thing?” Scott asked.

“What is the one thing Monty is afraid of aside from me leaving him?”

Scott thought for a moment. “Becoming his da-. Oh. Yeah that can’t happen.”

“Exactly. So, I will talk to him tomorrow about it when he comes home. In the meantime, try to keep him occupied please? I don’t need him spiralling and making things worse.”

“I will. Might have to give him hell first though.”

“Okay. As his wife, I give you permission to do that.” He hugged me before leaving Justin and I on our own.

“Do you want me to come over tonight to keep you company? We can watch stupid movies.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I think I need to be alone to think for a while.” I hugged him, “thank you. I’ll text you or call you if I need you.”

“You’re welcome. If you need me to come over, I will. Just say the word.” I nodded as I pulled out my compact. My makeup didn’t look too bad considering I had cried. Taking out a tissue, I wiped underneath my eyes and touched up a little bit. Just as I finished, the bell rang.

Coming home to an empty house wasn’t unusual, what with Monty’s sports schedule and other things in our lives, but there was something different about this time. I told him not to be here. I didn’t want him here. He wasn’t in our home because of me. For some reason, that made the house feel a little colder and a little less like home tonight. “Well, I guess I should make myself some food or something.” I muttered into the quiet house. Working quickly, I whipped up a pita pizza and some veggies, before opening up my laptop to work on some more essays.

A few long, lonely hours later, I turned off my computer and went to change. Unconsciously, I went into Monty’s dresser and grabbed a shirt to sleep in, along with a pair of my softer pyjama bottoms. Curling up in my spot on the couch, I turned on the tv and checked my phone. Justin texted me about an hour ago, as had Scott. There was a couple of apologies from Monty that I ignored. Seemed pretty clear that I didn’t want to talk to him but sure. I swiped to open Justin’s text first.

Hey Addy. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Do you need anything? This is me reminding you not to work on your essays for too long and not overthink too much. I love you.

Hey, I’m okay. A little lonely but I think I need it tbh. I’ll try not to think too much, but we both know how my brain works. Scott’s texts were next.

We got home safe. Mom and Dad are a little concerned about him but other than that, it’s all good. I’m still giving him hell for you.

Thanks Scott. Make sure he eats something of actual nutritional value please. Monty’s texts remained unopened.

I eventually turned my attention to the end table and the broken picture frame. Carefully picking it up, I examined it. The frame itself had broken in two places and the glass was shattered. Thankfully, the photo was still intact. “Time to dig through our stuff for a new frame.” Finding one was easy enough. They were on sale a while ago at IKEA, so we bought a bunch. Soon the picture was back in its rightful place on the table. At least one part of this mess was taken care of.

By ten thirty, I was ready to go to sleep and forget about the stress of the day. I went about the ninety-seven thousand things I do before bed as usual. I crawled into the large, cool bed and curled up in the same position I usually did, in an attempt to help myself fall asleep. It turns out, sleep wasn’t going to be easy to come by. I rolled onto my back, and then onto my side. When those positions weren’t comfortable, I rolled onto my stomach and then back to the other side. I tried turning Monty’s pillow longways so I could cuddle it. It smelled like him, which was nice, but it was too soft and didn’t move like he was breathing. I put the pillow back in its normal position and tried to stretch out. That didn’t help either. You know where he is. It’s not like he’s in danger. You can go to sleep. He is safe. Just sleep. The tossing and turning and racing thoughts went on for at least another few hours, before I decided I needed to take a sleeping pill. I had to get enough sleep, in order to deal with the argument that would most likely occur tomorrow.

I was awake at the ungodly hour of six am on a Saturday, lying in bed, trying in vain to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. By six thirty I gave up on that plan. I dragged myself out of bed and made a very large, very strong, cup of coffee. Deciding it was probably time to bite the bullet and read Monty’s various apologies, I took a deep breath and opened his messages.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I screwed up Addison.

Please don’t be mad at me. I love you.

I love you.

Please talk to me. I know I fucked up, but this silence is killing me.

Addison. Baby. Please.

I need you.

Please just tell me how to fix this?

Addy, please talk to me. I’m really fucking sorry.

Okay, Scott says if I don’t stop texting you and go to bed, he’s throwing my phone in the garbage. I love you and I’m still sorry. I couldn’t stop the urge to roll my eyes at the string of pleases. He made no mention of what he actually did. I sent him a quick text, knowing he wouldn’t answer at this hour.

We will talk at home. Tell Scott and his family thank you for letting you stay there for me. With that arduous task completed, I puttered around the house, tidying the nonexistent mess.

I was lounging on the couch, reading a book, when I heard the door unlock. I didn’t look up until I had finished my page and Montgomery cleared his throat. “Hi.” He greeted me, awkwardly.

“Hi.” We were silent for a few beats. Neither of us knew what to say to each other. I turned to look at him. He was looking around the room, anywhere but at me. I felt a small tinge of regret and pity at the uncomfortable look crossing his features. You have nothing to be sorry for. He is at fault here.

“Can you just say something so we can get this over with?”

Get this ov- seriously? “Depends. Can you act like an adult take responsibility for your actions?”

“Oh, so that’s how you want to start this?”

“I guess so, yeah.” I shrugged, standing up.

“I don’t see why you are so upset Addison-.”

“I swear to God Montgomery. If you say a word about the picture frame.”

“Scott already gave me shit for fucking up last night.”

“Oh! Okay, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say something before? Clearly, we have nothing to discuss here, since Scott fucking Reed already talked to you about it?” I yelled, throwing my arms up for dramatic effect. “Do you even understand why I’m upset?”

“He’s my best friend. I listen to him. Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry I screwed up Addison.”

I blinked slowly at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. “You listen to Scott? Because I’m almost certain it wasn’t Scott that had no issue with you getting so drunk you could hardly stand on a Thursday night.”

“Seriously Addison? You are going to bring your issues with Bryce into this?”

“I never said that. You did. But sure, since apparently you can’t take responsibility for what you did, yeah. I’m going to bring Bryce into this, Montgomery.”

“It was one night Addison.”

“This time. This time it was one night. What about next time? Or the time after that?”

“It’s not a big deal. What are you going to do, tell me I can’t be friends with him? He’s my brother.”

“I am your WIFE. I am your family. You need to realize your actions affect more than just you now.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He crossed his arms.

“I don’t want to tell you that you can’t. That is something you can decide on your own.”

“That’s you politely saying yes.”

“No, it isn’t. If you want to take it that way, you can. Are you ready to discuss the real issue now? I don’t put even a quarter of the blame on Bryce.”

“Mhmm. Sure, you don’t.” He muttered, aggressively.

“You decided to get wasted at a party. You decided not to let me know where you were, or if you were okay, or if you were coming home. You decided to drive home.”

“I didn’t realize you needed to know where I was at all times.”

“I don’t.”

“Really? Because it sure as shit seems like it.”

“Sorry for wanting to know if my husband was okay or not.” I yelled.

“You knew I was at Bryce’s. I was fine.”

“Fine? If you think this is fine, you need to re-evaluate that idea really fast. You could barely stand up. It’s a wonder you didn’t get pulled over or hit anything. Or anyone.”

“I didn’t. I got home in one piece and everything was fine. Until you decided to throw a hissy fit about it. And newsflash, my leg is fucked, so I can barely stand up to begin with.”

“It is not fine Monty.”

“You keep saying that but aren’t giving me a reason or explanation why.”

“You mean aside from the obvious?”

“Yeah.”

“You need to realize that it isn’t just you anymore. You need to understand that you have a family to be concerned about now. I get that it’s not something you are used to, but you do.”

He scoffed. “I understand that perfectly well Addison.”

“Do you though? Because I don’t think you do. You don’t act like you do.”

“Because I went out with my friends for a night? You are going to question my commitment to you because of one night?”

“No. I’m not questioning your commitment to me. And I have no problem with you going out with your friends. I have an issue with you coming home drunk off your ass. Again. I have an issue with the fact that you do it and then we talk about it and then you go on like everything is fine for a while. And then you do it again.”

“It’s not like I do it all the time. Don’t make it sound like I’m just coming home drunk every night.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying that this is becoming a pattern. A pattern that I, for one, am not okay with.”

Monty stared at me incredulously. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, catching sight of the replaced frame on the end table. “I see you fixed your precious photo. So, there is no reason to be mad anymore.” He muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

“Seriously? It was never about the goddamn picture frame. It was about you. Do you honestly think I would make you spend the night at your friend’s house over a picture frame breaking?”

“I don’t know Addison.”

“Well clearly we aren’t going to get anywhere today then. Since you can’t seem to accept that your actions have consequences, and I can’t force you to understand my point.” I shook my head. I couldn’t keep going around in circles with him. If he wasn’t ready to have a mature discussion about this, then there was no point in trying.

“I guess not.” He said.

There was nothing more to be said anymore, so I walked back to the coffee table from the kitchen, where we had ended up in our fighting. Grabbing my book and phone, I stalked past him, half hoping he would reach out and grab me to apologise. When he didn’t, I went back into our room and closed the door. I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. Instead, when I shut the door, I slid down to the floor and laid my head on my knees. My tears left little dots on my leggings and stains down my cheeks. Luckily, I was able to hold back any sobs that tried to break through.

After a while, I could hear Monty in our room. It sounded like he was opening and closing drawers. For a moment, I could hear him breathing on the other side of the door. It was like he was trying to decide to knock or not. I held my breath. A moment later, I heard his footsteps pad away from the door. Roughly an hour or so later, I decided I had hidden in my own home long enough. I stood up and splashed my face with cool water. I quickly changed into a pair of dark sweatpants and a comfortable t-shirt, with my favourite grey cardigan over top.

“I’m going out.” I stated as I walked out of our room and grabbed my purse.

“K.” Monty replied, not bothering to up from the playbook he was reading on the couch. I raised my brows sadly at his lack of response. My drive to Justin’s place was unusually silent. I normally drove with the radio on or AUX connected. I parked in front of the house and walked around back. I knocked on his door firmly a couple of times. While I waited, I unconsciously wrapped my arms around myself protectively. Justin opened the door not long after. He took one look at me trying not to cry and curling in on myself and stiffened.

“Clay, get out.”

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trashfor-imagines · 4 years

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My Senpai | 4

Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re Goshiki Tsutomu’s older doting sister, second year at Shiratorizawa and captain of the girl’s track & field team. At your brother’s first practice you sneak in to support him and end up meeting the impressive force that is his captain. Warnings: None really. Mentions sex. Spoilers: We’re encroaching on manga territory. Takes place after Karasuno v Shiratorizawa.

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating in forever! I lost my original chapter and got discouraged. I started rewatching Ushijima episodes to refresh my grasp on his character.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

It was a shock. You never thought Shiratorizawa was capable of losing this year. Ushijima appeared unaffected, but that was just him. It was always mental for him and he had the ability to act with a sort of chivalric grace whenever faced with conflict. God, your boyfriend was really cool. Your brother, however, it broke your heart to see him cry.

After the award ceremony, you raced down to wait by the bus. Ushijima walked out first, his head held high. Noticing you, he simply rested his large hand on your head before getting on the bus. Quiet hello’s and thanks for coming’s were whispered to you. Your little brother could barely make eye contact, the last one to get on the bus. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a squeeze before letting it go and heading for the bus that brought the cheer squad.

The ride felt long. You spent most of it listening to music and playing with the sleeve of Ushijima’s spare team jacket he’d given you shortly after dating. You smiled and chatted occasionally with your fellow students, but the topics of discussion were focused on how Ushijima and the third years were doing. They expected you to have the answers and quite frankly, you thought it was obvious.

Getting back, you made your way into the gym to see the team working on serves. You sat quietly on the sidelines and watched as everyone gave their all, letting out their frustrations from the day. You never knew you could find the slams of volleyballs to be comforting to where they could put you to sleep. Or maybe you were just exhausted. Either way, you woke up from being carried.

“Wakatoshi,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to his chest.

The two of you snuck into your dorm room, stripping down into your underwear and entangling under the sheets. Ushijima’s body was like a radiator, warm and comforting.You ran your fingers through his hair patiently. If he wanted to talk, then he would. Until then, you whispered little praises to him, pressing kisses to his shoulder between sentences.

“I won’t lose again,” he spoke quietly.

Months passed and things continued to go well between the two of you. They were better than ever honestly. During Christmas you visited each other’s families at his request. You didn’t even have to prompt it! Your parents loved him. They thought he was quite the protector type and approved. His mother ended up accepting you once she realized you were intelligent and genuinely loved her son. Your personality had definitely thrown her for a loop.

Graduation was soon approaching and the two of you decided on a five year plan together. Long nights were spent discussing goals and dreams, wondering if they would be compatible with one another. He intended on going pro right after school; the Schweiden Adlers seemed most likely and they were based in Oita. You still had your third year of high school to finish, but you were applying to Kyushu University for architecture. It was in Fukuoka and closer than your other options to Oita. It was just a couple of hours by train or car. You also had plans to stick with track and field and keep your spot on the national team for as long as you could. You both had your eyes on the 2016 Olympics.

For a year the two of you managed to maintain a healthy long distance relationship.

After graduation, there were farewell and congratulatory parties almost every day, but the most fun for you was going apartment hunting, together. It was like a vacation, enjoying the beaches and hot springs. You spent a week staying at his apartment where the lease was ending soon. He said the two of you needed a new place together, that his current apartment wasn’t fitting enough for you. On your third day in Oita, Ushijima decided on the place, a 2 bed and 1.5 bath townhome instead of a one and one apartment. When you told him it was a bit expensive, he said it was perfect because he wanted you to have your own space at home to study for school without being bothered by him. You cried right there and he handled it like a champ. The two of you moved in a week before you started school.

“Wakatoshi!” you called to him from the rooftop terrace. He appeared, sticking his head out from the sliding glass door. You wiped your cheek, smudging dirt across your face. “Can you help me move this bag?”

He slipped on his outdoor shoes and walked over, lifting the bag of dirt and moving it to one of the two raised garden beds that he built earlier today. The two of you had plans for a small vegetable garden. “I thought we were going to plant seeds after lunch. I’m almost done cooking.”

“I know, I just got really excited. I was staring at your beautiful work and couldn’t help myself,” you cooed, giving him starry eyes.

Sighing, he set the bag down where you needed it before taking your hand and dragging you back inside. “We’ll do this after lunch. Together.”

“Aw, are you jealous I tried to start before you?” He didn’t say anything in response, making you grin. “My handsome farmer, I’m so sorry.”

After lunch, the two of you filled the garden beds with dirt and carefully planted seeds for carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, peas, basil, parsley, rosemary, thyme, marigolds, lavender, and scarlet plume celosia. Ushijima had done quite a bit of research on complimentary plants. Hours really. Hours spent doing online research and drawing diagrams of how the garden should be set up for its fullest potential.

You were watering one of the garden beds when you caught a glimpse of Ushijima squatting with a spade in his hand. It was so cute how concentrated he was and how much attention he was giving this simple task. Biting your lip, you sprayed him briefly. He blinked, as if not comprehending what happened and looked up, as if blaming the sky. A muffled laugh escaped you. You went back to watering the garden bed as he went inside. Minutes later you heard the glass door slide open and didn’t pay much mind to it. Suddenly you felt chilled and were thoroughly soaked. Moving your hair from your eyes, you looked up to see your boyfriend holding a bucket over your head.

“Wakatoshi!”

Soon you were off to university, moving into a small dorm room with a single suitcase. Your dorm was littered with photographs of you and Ushijima and it was hard to cope with the fact that you wouldn’t see him through at least the rest of summer, maybe not even until the end of September if your school’s track team did well.

For a month you and Ushijima would call or FaceTime every night and tell each other about your days. He was quite proud of the garden the both of you planted and would send you progress photos and then describe what he saw in fine detail. Honestly, you didn’t realize your boyfriend was capable of being so invested in something other than volleyball. There were a few times you tried spicing up your phone calls, but honestly Ushijima didn’t get it. He was terrible at phone sex. It was fine though. Summer break was.... just a few months away.

It was a Saturday night after track practice when you got a phone call from your boyfriend.

“Wakatoshi! You’re calling early. I haven’t gotten back to my dorm yet,” you spoke, excited to hear from him.

“(Y/N), I’m lost.”

Your brows raised in surprise. “Lost, how? Do you need me to look up how to fix something?”

“No, I’m somewhere on your university’s campus.”

You felt your heart skip and you immediately ran toward main campus. “Okay well tell me what you see.”

In thirty minutes you were in your dorm taking a shower and Ushijima was reading the newest shonen jump he picked up at the train station on your bedroom floor. You came out with your hair in a towel and one of Ushijima’s t-shirts you had stolen. He set aside his magazine and pulled you down into his lap, holding you tight.

“I’m so surprised you came. I’m so happy,” you squealed, burying your face into his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

“I missed you too. I can stay for two days, but then I must go home.”

Pulling back, you let your fingers run over the stubble on his jaw, pouting a bit, “So what do I owe this short visit?”

His stare was intense and a faint blush kissed his cheeks. “I recognize that a few times you’ve tried to... initiate some things on the phone. I admit I’m not very good at it, so hopefully my presence now can make up for my... lack of experience.”

“Wakatoshi,” you breathed out in surprise, gazing at him with so much love. He literally traveled almost three hours because you were horny without him. Pulling the towel from your hair, you knocked him over onto his back as you jumped him.

Visits like these happened sporadically and soon it was fall. Track and field season was over which meant you could make your weekend visits home to Oita. You’d leave Wednesday nights and head back to school on Sunday mornings. Despite the second bedroom serving as a private study for you, you found yourself curling up to Ushijima almost always - as long as he wasn’t busy.

This was life for a couple of years. The two of you had become quite the duo. In fact, throughout your relationship, you had only argued about two things:

You broke your phone once and he wasn’t able to contact you and he freaked out from not knowing what was going on.

He forgot your anniversary and cancelled on your date for volleyball and you laid in on him for it.

Things were great until the 2016 Olympic qualifiers came around. You had broken a metatarsal in your right foot at the first qualifying meet of the 2015 season. You were out for the next eight weeks and even then, you weren’t going to be in shape to qualify because you had to go through physical therapy and get your athletic abilities up to par. Your coach told you that staying on the national team, going pro, and qualifying for 2020 was still possible for you. It didn’t stop the feeling of complete and total devastation that wrecked you and you were jealous.

Ushijima wasn’t sure of how to help you; he’d never seen you so vulnerable before, never seen you so sad, but he did his best to support you, even if that meant being a punching bag. He was consistent, despite things he had going on for his own Olympic goals.

After two months it was summer break. You had to go through physical therapy and you moved back home to Oita, transitioning to online classes for the second term of the year. Because Ushijima’s love language was different from most, you found yourself being forced to do your PT homework exercises, no matter how down and bratty you got.

“Wakatoshi, I don’t want to do stairs,” you groaned, curling up into a ball on the couch.

“You must, or you won’t be ready to start training any time soon,” he replied simply.

Your foot was throbbing and you were on your period, and everything just felt like shit. All you wanted was to watch anime and eat the small bag of chips you had hidden under the blanket you were under. Ushijima had been so strict with your diet and honestly all you wanted were trans fats, sugar, and carbs. With ease, he ripped the blanket from you, exposing you in your underwear clutching a bag of Calbee honey butter flavored potato chips.

“You should get up and walk the stairs now,” he said, prying the bag of chips from your hands, “if you want these back.”

Throwing your legs over the couch, you winced, balling your hands into fists in frustration. You got up, favoring your left foot, which he noticed. He walked up the stairs and sat on the top step, waiting for you to follow. Biting your lip, you moved slowly, trying to ignore the pain. There were 14 steps to the top and you had to go up twice and down twice. You were doing fine until your second trek up the stairs. It was a misstep and you slipped and you were clinging to the stair case, crying. It was embarrassing for you to be like this in front of him. This sweet giant quickly enveloped you in his arms and had you lying on your side of the bed, gently caressing your foot as you sobbed through it.

When you were calm again, Ushijima left for a while before returning, dinner in hand. The two of you sat in bed and had the meal he made in silence. You’d barely eaten, but you waited until he finished before you curled up to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Wakatoshi.”

“I would be surprised it you took this easily. You’re a competitive person. It’s one of the things I find attractive about you,” he replied. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his fingers gently running up and down along your own arm.

“Really?” you asked, feeling shy. He hummed in affirmation, glancing down to make eye contact. Smiling, you played with the hem of his shirt that was beginning to ride up. “What else do you... find attractive about me?”

“You’re thoughtful, kind. The way you pursue your passions and you’ve encouraged me to pursue my own; you believe in people wholeheartedly.” A thoughtful expression settled on his face as he spoke on effortlessly. He paused and his brows furrowed briefly before settling into a relaxed expression. “You’re beautiful.”

Placing a kiss to your forehead, you watched as he got up and headed to take his evening shower.

While you couldn’t compete, you concentrated on therapy and school and finished your courses early for your degree. You picked up a simple class to stay enrolled until your four years at school were up*, this way you could go back to competing your last year of university. The summer of 2016, Ushijima took you with him to Brazil. Japan didn’t win, but the competition was incredible. You got to meet with track and field athletes and it reignited your passion for competition.

You’d graduate come spring and then your focus was on 2020 Tokyo.

*In Japan, early graduation doesn’t exist. It was explained to me that if you attend a 4 year university, you have to be a student for 4 years before graduating, even if you complete your degree early.

tag list: @hihiq

#Ushijima Wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #shiratorizawa #my senpai #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyū!!#reader insert #imagine #fanfic #volleyboys

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startcirrus7 · 3 years

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gleekto · 4 years

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Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Even Better than the Real Thing (12/13)

“You’re here.”

In the last ten minutes, Kurt has gone from being sure Blaine was going to put a bounty on his head for that fan pic, to thinking that he maybe managed not to be totally cancelled as a friend, to suddenly having to process that Blaine is at his doorstep, casual and deliberately sexy, staring at him like they both have too many clothes on. And Kurt, not having expected any guests in the late morning, is still in his pyjamas. At least they’re silk.

“Looks like it.” Blaine steps inside and closes the door. Kurt is in full surprise mode at seeing Blaine right here, right now, so open and obvious and hot. His heart thuds. It’s such a rush that he unconsciously scrunches his eyes shut under the electricity of it.

“Don’t look too happy to see me,” Blaine laughs, gently reaching out to touch Kurt’s upper arm.

“I am.” Kurt opens his eyes wide again. “I really am. I just was not expecting you. At all. Two days ago, I was sure you would never speak to me again after you discovered my alter ego. And then okay, we talked - like the mature adults we are -” Kurt emphasizes and Blaine chuckles, “And I was not going to have to hide in a corner should we ever meet again. But then tumblr haunted me yet again and suddenly I’m either your public fake boyfriend while you secretly have an affair with Rachel or your new younger fanboy toy and-”

“An accurate summary,” Blaine interrupts, hand still gently on his arm.

“So I mean this sincerely, but also with maybe a sprinkle of my usual sass,” Kurt huffs and closes his eyes, trying not to just melt under Blaine’s gaze like the Wicked Witch under a drop of rain, “Why are you here? And looking at me like that?”

“Well, I do care.” Blaine’s eyes are big and sincere and boring into him. Kurt backs up against the wall for support, Blaine close to his face, hand now rubbing his arm. “About your alter ego, I mean. There is no way I would have gone after you like I did if I had known. But the problem was that by the time I found out about LimaBlaineFan, I liked you already - the guy who goes to LAADA, and can handle Rachel Berry-”

“No small feat,” Kurt interjects.

“No. And despite all the guys and dates and Mr. Pinks, no one has been able to keep up with my more nerdy musical theatre side-”

“Who are you calling nerdy?”

"Oh I’m calling myself nerdy,” Blaine steps further into his space making it actually pretty difficult to concentrate on the nice things he seems to be saying, though Kurt isn’t quite sure because Blaine keeps looking from his eyes to his lips to his eyes and it’s very distracting. “And I’m rationalizing all this to myself because you did stop posting and it doesn’t actually seem like you were stalking me or trying to trick me into dating you-”

“I’m not clever enough to pull that off, I’m afraid.”

“So apparently, for you, my golden rule is made to be broken.” Kurt is pretty sure he hears that correctly. “And about the fan photo - I can’t care about stuff like that. I mean, I can go to coffee with Rachel tomorrow - suddenly I’ll be a conflicted bisexual falling for my co-star.”

“You think you’re being sarcastic but actually, there is definitely a segment of tumblr that firmly believes you’re gay for pay.”

“Oh I know,” Blaine sighs, exhaling into Kurt’s breath. “I admit I don’t really understand the theory, but I know they’re out there. And they’re wrong.” Blaine’s less than subtle roaming eyes become too much so Kurt closes his own under the scrutiny. “As for why I’m looking at you like that,” Blaine is an inch from his face. “I’d rather show you.”

“God,” Kurt breathes out while Blaine’s mouth lands on his, his body pressing Kurt up against the wall of his living room. Finally kissing him. Blaine’s mouth and tongue move slowly and deliberately, making the kiss long and dirty.

After minutes of tasting and slow drags of Blaine’s tongue on his neck and behind his ear and on his throat, Kurt looks down and shakes his head, a giggle slipping out.

“Are you ticklish?” Blaine asks, taking his earlobe between his teeth.

“No,” Kurt shivers. “I’m laughing because when I saw that picture on tumblr, I really had no idea what you were going to do to me.”

“I can show you if you’d like.” Kurt supposes he asked for that one. Blaine grabs his ass, pushing their bodies together. He’s getting hard and he knows Blaine can feel it - silk pyjamas not leaving much to the imagination. “I’d like to start by getting you out of these,” Blaine pulls at his pyjamas, puts his hands up inside the shirt, and lets his hands explore. Kurt lifts Blaine’s t-shirt slightly, tentatively mirroring him. “And you,” Blaine pauses. “Can finally see me shirtless.” His blog will forever haunt him, he’s sure.

Kurt looks up at the ceiling, exasperated. “You don’t even feel like that guy, you know. The Blaine Anderson on my blog who I wished had a shirtless scene. You just kind of look like him.”

When Kurt looks back down, Blaine is shirtless, having made quick work of his loose t-shirt, and the top button of his jeans is undone. He’s like a Chippendale’s dancer live in his living room. And Kurt is trying very hard not to be too overwhelmed by the show. “You wouldn’t know,” Blaine says as he saunters towards Kurt’s bedroom. “You never saw him shirtless.”

Kurt follows, sitting down on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his breath. It’s a lot this shirtless, sexual Blaine openly wanting him and he wants it to last. Blaine walks up to him, takes his hands and places them on his chest, and starts to massage Kurt’s chest again under his shirt, before lifting it over his head.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, by the way.” The confession just tumbles out and he can’t take it back. Like maybe he could just try to figure things out without routinely making himself seem so innocent.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” Blaine says, leaning down and kissing his neck, while running his thumbs deliberately over Kurt’s nipples. Blaine is such a playful flirt and it’s completely unnerving. “Though my little stroll through your former tumblr does give me a hint of what you might like.”

He really is never going to forgive himself for leaving his laptop open. “Just to clarify, I do not want a threesome. I just liked that author. So don’t get any ideas.”

Blaine laughs and crawls on to Kurt’s bed, pulling Kurt to lie down beside him as he takes out his phone. “Oh I have lots of ideas.” Kurt sees more screen caps. Great. Blaine shows him an ask he vaguely remembers from maybe three years ago -

Anonymous asks:

Do you think Blaine has had sex? I mean, he’s only 21 and was from a small town and he’s gay.

LimaBlaineFan: Yeah. He’s an adult and is a heartthrob TV star living out in LA. Lots of sex to be found, I’m sure.

“Well, you were right about that,” Blaine shrugs. “My first time was with a guy I hooked up with right before Sing! started airing. It may sound stupid but I wanted to be with someone before fame might hit - and you never know why someone might want you.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kurt says quickly. “Not at all.”

“Well, we didn’t do everything,” Blaine adds. “But I did give my first blowjob, so it counts.”

Blaine is very open - with language, with emotions, with sex. It’s a little intimidating. A lot sexy. Kurt curls up to him and starts kissing his neck. “Lucky guy.”

“You’re about to be just as lucky,” Blaine says easily. “Maybe luckier. I’ve honed my skills.” Okay, Blaine plans to give him a blowjob. “And by the way, this next one is the last screen cap I have. Maybe it’s poetic justice but this one is kind of hot.” Oh god. Blaine scrolls to another old ask:

Anonymous asks:

Hey LBF - I know you said you’re not a one night stand kind of guy but if you could have one night with Blaine, what would you do?

LimaBlaineFan: Well this isn’t going to happen so might as well give you my wildest dream - which would be everything, I guess? I have no experience so who knows what I like but pretty sure his amazing ass would have to feature.

“We can stop reading these now, right?” Blaine laughs and nods. “And we can delete them forever? Because I’m really not talking about the same you and I really don’t feel like that horny fanboy right now.”

“Oh I hope you are at least the horny part.” Blaine turns on to his side, slipping his hand into Kurt’s pyjama pants and on to his ass.

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“I will,” Blaine says, kneading his ass and kissing along his chest while Kurt tries to breathe. “But first, I would like to propose to you that unlike your alter ego, you will not only get one night with “Blaine”. And also unlike your alter ego, I don’t think we should do everything,” Blaine looks up at his eyes, “Yet. But I would like to suck you-” Blaine moves his hand to Kurt’s front and squeezes. Okay, he did just say that. “And whatever you want to do, I am sure my ass could definitely feature. I hope it lives up to the hype.”

They’re kissing again before Kurt can respond and Blaine is making quick work of getting him very hard, very fast. “I want to go first,” Kurt says, reluctantly pulling his body away from Blaine. “It’s too fast otherwise. I want to try.” Kurt tugs at Blaine’s jeans and hopes his meaning is clear.

“Okay,” Blaine nods, looking sexy and excited and very willing. “Okay.” Blaine gets up and quickly and pulls off his pants and briefs. He’s standing in front of Kurt, still lying on the bed, naked and bold and not shy at all. “How would you like to-” Kurt’s contemplating. “I have an idea,” Blaine says before Kurt has a chance to decide. He looks mischievious. “If you’re serious about wanting my ass involved.”

“Of course,” Kurt says and sits up, going for false confidence. He’s watched enough porn to know that this can’t be that difficult. And there is something so easy about being with Blaine.

“If you want, which is cool either way,” Blaine starts. “You can go on you knees in front of me-”

“My knees?”

“Yeah,” Blaine looks sheepish. “I admit it’s hot to me. Should we forget it?”

Kurt drops a pillow on the floor and drops to his knees. It’s worth it just to see Blaine’s jaw drop slightly. “Go on.”

“Wow,” Blaine holds Kurt’s face. “You’re amazing.” Blaine breathes in. “Okay, so go ahead and open for me.” Blaine holds his hard cock in his hands and traces it on Kurt’s lips as he opens his mouth. Kurt concentrates on what he knows for the first few minutes, lick under the head, cover his teeth, good suction. Blaine moves in and out slowly, and Blaine’s little moans encourage him. He’s doing it. “Now grab my ass, Kurt,” Blaine says. “Don’t be shy - grab it. Use your fingers. I like it.” Blaine’s hands move to Kurt’s head, pushing him gently further, while Kurt holds firmly on to Blaine’s ass. “Stick in a finger, Kurt. I can take one without lube. Yeah, that’s it. You’re so hot. Amazing.” The image is overwhelming - Blaine pushing into his mouth, his finger pushing into Blaine. Blaine’s movements get faster. “I don’t want to choke you,” Blaine pants. “I’m going to pull out and come on both of us. Then I’m going to suck you until you scream.” Kurt is groaning around his cock as he pulls out, and comes on Kurt’s chest and his own legs. Kurt gently pulls his finger out.

Without cleaning anything, Blaine pushes Kurt down on to the bed, pulls off his pyjama bottoms, and sinks down on him. He plays with his own come on Kurt’s chest as he encourages Kurt up and into his mouth. “Fuck my mouth, Kurt. I can take it,” He says before sinking down again. Kurt feels the build up, lets himself moan loudly in the empty apartment. “Let me hear it, Kurt.” Kurt’s sound is guttural as he comes down Blaine’s throat.

Wow - if that isn’t the best sex he’s ever had. Which it obviously is but wow.

“Kurt, you are fucking amazing,” Blaine pants as he sits up and catches his own breath. “So open and sexy and hot.” Maybe the newest thing about all this is those labels being given to him. By Blaine Anderson. Definitely not the guy on television.

“You’re alright,” Kurt says back. Sarcasm is safer as he cuddles into Blaine’s side, letting Blaine clean them both up as he catches his breath. He is feeling pretty good about his first performance. “Your ass is definitely better than that TV star’s.”

...

As they lie in bed, practicing Blaine’s upcoming scene with Kurt playing Rachel, Kurt’s phone buzzes.

Mercedes: It’s official. The first RPF is out - Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt quickly texts back: Do not send that to me.

“Do they know your real name?” Blaine looks scandalized.

“Only my first name.”

Mercedes: Well, you may be more interested in this one. That faux entertainment ‘zine guy, JustJay, thinks he has the scoop from the coffee shop.

Kurt: You mean the top secret news that Blaine Anderson dips biscotti while chatting with a friend?

Blaine laughs as he reads the text over Kurt’s shoulder and then the link at JustJay. Kurt sees the melodramatic headline of Who is the pretty face having coffee with Sing!’s favorite heartthrob? and he’s pretty sure that he is more scandalized than Blaine. Here it is Sing! fans, the photo everyone is talking about...

“Ha!” Kurt laughs out loud as he shuts the computer. “JustJay has a very skewed view of who exactly is everyone.”

“I can handle this, no problem. My publicist has probably already left me four messages.” Blaine checks his phone. “Only two - JustJay isn’t the big time yet. Only question then is whether there is something to talk about here.” Blaine looks at him sincerely, almost vulnerable.

“What do you mean? Like I don’t want to be the front cover of TMZ, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No. I’m asking if this is happening?”

“I think it just did.” Kurt bites at Blaine’s shoulder, too nervous to answer.

“You’re really making me pull teeth now? So should it happen again, Kurt?”

“You’re asking as if the answer could be anything other than yes.”

“Never meet your idols. They might disappoint.”

Kurt stares at the ceiling and laughs, shaking his head. “Or they could be you.”

#even better than the real thing #it's time #gleekto writes

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