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glitteredrry · 1 year

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ghost of you

summary: their lives have changed so much in the past 6 months. what has been going on in the two lovers lives months after their affair ended?

warnings: angst, smut (if you squint), and exs. this will be the last part of the series. if this is your first time reading this please read part one and part two for background.

wc: 4.8k

How do you mourn a person that isn’t dead?

Especially when you are surrounded by memories that always linger around you.

It had been six months since Harry was last in her apartment. It was almost torture being in the one place the both of them created the most memories. Her home had almost become like a sanctuary for them both. A place where they could touch each other without a care in the world. Intimate moments that the two of them would only know about.

For these past months, Y/N began to see a therapist. She needed a listening ear that her friends couldn’t be for her. These months have been a reflection of her time with Harry. There were days where she felt as if she had defeated the feelings she had lingering for her ex lover. Then she had days like today.

Today was a rough day for Y/N. She was going through one of her moments of sadness. Her eyes were on the painting that Harry had first approached her at. Yes, Harry actually found a way to buy the painting behind her back, and surprised her with it on their anniversary.

“Open your eyes, my heart.”

Y/N’s face immediately dropped at the colorful canvas infront of her eyes. Her hand reached out to touch and see if this was true.

Harry watched her with bright eyes trying to gauge her reaction. He thought that he was doing too much, but the past six months he had spent with her were magical. He needed to have some way to express that.

“It’s the original one for the night we met. There were some strings that I had to pull but it was worth it.” Harry said as he began to get nervous the more she wouldn’t say anything.

“I love it. I love you.” Y/N’s mind had slipped up because she was so entranced with the painting that she had forgotten that they had never said those sacred words to each other. ‘

“Y-you love me?” When Harry repeated the question to her it finally snapped for her. Y/N had always been a confident woman. One who would stand her ground no matter what. At this moment. She felt the need to cower and retract her words. Harry had studied her for these few months and he saw an emotion he never did before. She was terrified.

“I- I don’t-,” she couldn’t even get her words out right.

“If you meant that. Truly meant that. I love you too.”

Y/N rushed to connect their lips together. The pair spent that night on her living room floor making love infront of the fireplace. Where above hung the painting that brought the two lovers together.

She was pulled out of the memory when her phone began to ring. Honestly, she was suffering from a little bit of PTSD from her cellphone ringtone. Harry had called her phone over thirty times before she blocked him permanently. She had voicemails from him on her phone that she had yet listened to. Looking down to find her device, the name on the screen happened to be a childhood friend. Picking up the phone, she had to move it away from her ear as Jonathan called out to her.

“Wake the hell up,” this was something that he would say to her no matter the time of day.

“Not today, I have no desire to.”

“That is the issue right there. We need to get you out of the house. You’re coming with me.”

“To where?” She asked nipping at her skin.

“A bar. It’s going to be very casual. Only a few friends coming. If it gets too much I’ll let you retreat to your fortress.”

“I’ll stop by for one drink. Send me the location.”

…

Being out for the first time in months felt a little strange. She put on a brave while set with her friends. Her second drink was finally starting to settle in her stomach as she started to nurse on the third drink her friend had for her.

Y/N wasn’t ready to fully lead a conversation yet, but she was fully engaged. Each time a joke was shared amongst the group she would throw her head back in laughter.

What Y/N didn’t know was that her ex-lover was staring at her across the room. Harry had been watching her for about ten minutes. He couldn’t believe the sight in front of him.

Six months without seeing her, feeling her touch, taking in her beauty. When his eyes landed on her, he felt as if someone hit him in the chest with a ball. His breath was taken away.

Then the rage came.

A reminder of how his life had been going for the past months. It all started with the email.

Harry’s wife didn’t get the chance to read it the night that she sent it, but by morning disaster knocked on the front door of his home.

Once Harry stepped back inside the house after dropping his daughter at school his wife confronted him immediately. He couldn’t even get a word in. He was called every name under the book. He was grasping at straws because he didn’t understand how she found out. Harry already knew that he was a liar, cheater, and disgusting.

One thing about him that was certain, is that he was a perfectionist.

A perfectionist in everything in his life. This one trait caused him to climb higher at his job than the average person. When he began this affair he spent his time planning and organizing everything to the smallest detail.

He had a credit card on the side that his wife had no clue about so he could use it freely with Y/N. If they planned a trip away he had a solid excuse for it, and if his wife happened to catch on he had an excuse for that. Any time that he spent away from home he made sure there was an excuse to match it. He never brought Y/N to his home, so there would never be a trace of her lingering. He was in control of the whole situation. So how could he possibly have lost control of everything?

“The audacity of her. T-that fucking video. You’re a coward. Your mistress had to tell me before you could.” You would have thought at the moment he would have cared about consoling his wife. His pregnant wife was clearly in distress, but all he could think about is Y/N. He couldn’t describe it as anything else but betrayal.

“S-she told you? Where?” He moved around the house frantically away from his wife pacing toward his office as his wife followed.

“My email. How long did this go on? Why did she make it sound like you had a full-blown relationship with her, Harry?

Because it was.

He loved her. To anyone on the outside this possibly couldn’t be love. It was complicated for him. His body was placed with his family while his heart rested in the hands of someone else. He didn’t answer her as he sat down in his office going immediately to look at what she said.

“All you care about is what she said. What about me?”

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? I don’t know if I am. I didn’t intend on falling in love with another woman, but it happened. Grace we need to be truthful, we both fell out of love with each other years ago. The arguing, then the fertility. There was a point in time when what we had was love. Now all you look at me as is some sort of sperm donor. We don’t have love.” He unleashed all the feelings that he had been keeping hidden inside of him. His affair with Y/N surely wasn’t the start of the downfall of his marriage. There was no love long before, Y/N came into the picture.

“She didn’t ruin our marriage. We- I did.” He moved from the computer needing a moment. Hearing the words out of his own mouth he couldn’t help but feel a bit of emotion coming to him. Maybe they could have worked out their issues with enough counseling. He would never know because he never gave it the chance to. Instead, he searched for the love that he had before in another home. A temporary cushion of relief from the tension in his marriage would end up shifting his life.

“I’m taking Isabella and leaving. You don’t deserve to see her or this child.” This is when Harry lost it momentarily. He was a shit husband there was no denying that, but he was always a good father. Grace knew this. She wanted to hurt Harry in the worst possible way, and one of the only ways she knew to do this was through the kids.

“How fucking low are you to threaten me with not seeing my children?” He said shooting up from the desk to stand. He didn’t want to get anywhere near her while feeling this angry. He would never hurt her, but he also didn’t want to scream in her face.

“You won’t keep me away from my girls no matter how angry you might be feeling. Isabella is not leaving this home. I’ll leave. She’s staying right here where I know she will be safe. Where I know how to get to her.” Grace couldn’t even stand to see him anymore. She was disgusted by him.

“Right now, I’m going to leave. When Bella is out of school I’m picking her up, and I don’t want you here. I can’t stand to look at you.” With that said she walked out leaving the house.

Harry sat down in his seat and began to cry in his hands. He loved his daughter with everything in him. Every morning was their time together. From breakfast until he walked her into class. Right now, he knew that it was possibly about to be taken away from him. He would never be able to explain to her why he ruined the foundation of their home.

His little girl that was growing in his wife’s belly was going to be born into something that was broken. He collected himself because he knew that he would have to in order to make it through this rough area in his life. His eyes trailed from the keyboard, and he knew by looking at the black screen he needed to search for the email.

He immediately scrambled to go search for it. Once he reached it he couldn’t help but be full of fury.

Dear Mrs. Styles,

There is no easy way for me to put this and I hate that it has to be done in this cruel way. I’ve been having an affair with your husband. Harry and I have had a relationship since last year. I knew that he was married and I’m sure that you’re asking “why didn’t I care? Why now?” The truth is that I just simply cannot answer that in a way that could provide you some comfort. I thought what Harry and I had was love in the purest form. Real, raw, and passionate. I’ve slowly realized today that it wasn’t that at all. There was never any love between us. Harry has told me lies and many empty promises. Today our relationship ended but I wanted you to hear it from me. This is my side of the truth that he more than likely will never choose to disclose to you. I’m sure that you will think that I’m some crazed person making up allegations. All the attachments below are him and I. There is no way that he could spin or lie about this. I’m sorry.

Three Attachments

He went over the email once more, and the waves of anger in him that he just would never be able to understand. He was so upset that she would question his love for her. He didn’t know what to do or how to handle a situation like this. Then he looked at the attachments that hadn’t loaded.

Taking a deep breath he stared at the first which was a picture.

The first one was them together last spring. A simple selfie of the lovers infront of a wall of flowers. Harry’s head was tucked into her neck breathing in her scent and if he closed his eyes he swore he could be taken back to the exact moment. Harry knew that right here he was in love with her and you could see it all over his face.

He moved to the second attachment which was a bit more sentimental to him. He hated that even though he couldn’t be angrier at her right now, he smiled once the photo came onto the screen. Harry and Y/N had been away just for the weekend.

During the trip, every single thing possible could have gone wrong. Harry caught a flat while going up to their destination. Once the roadside assistance finally showed up. They both were so tired. They decided instead of continuing the drive they would just look for a hotel in the area and continue tomorrow.

All of the decent hotels in the area were booked. This made the two lovers show up at a rundown motel. Once they hit the bed they couldn’t do anything but laugh. Y/N climbed on top of him to take a picture of him on top of the outdated comforter.

You could see that Harry’s hands were placed on her thighs. Soon after the picture was over they both whispered how much they loved each other. In the same outdated room, they made love for the first time before they even told each other verbally.

The last attachment made him physically sick. He was sick that Y/N sent this because she knew that he would see. The fact that his wife even had to see this also made him sick. This night was in her apartment. It was a rough spot in their relationship.

Truthfully, it was a reunion after not seeing each other for two weeks. Harry wasn’t finding a way to fit her into his free time, and she asked him about her place in his life. Which led to a huge argument. After a week of no talking, Harry started to miss his lover.

The second week was considered forgiveness week. He started off strong, he would send flowers to her job begging to talk. Then he would send her favorite desserts to her house. On the exact fourteenth day, he called her and she happened to finally answer. He said that he was five minutes away from her home.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel special.

He was coming to her after he got out of work, so to her, she felt like he chose her. One of the things he didn’t do is come to her house straight after work. Especially during a weekday. For one of the first times, she felt more important than his wife. Once she answered the door for him, the lovers spent the rest of the time reconciling.

They talked, they cuddled, and they fucked.

One thing about them, they expressed themselves best in this way. If their minds weren't connected their bodies always could be. Before Harry had to leave, she had offered him to take a bath together. Harry didn’t care what lie he had to make he was going to join that bath. Y/N sat everything up when he agreed to it. There were candles set up all around the bathroom. It was romantic just like she wanted for her lover.

Before they got in the tub, Y/N turned to Harry. “I want to record us. Just to remember this moment. That we can get through anything thrown our way. I love you, H. I want to record our love.”

Harry felt like a deer in headlight. He was so in love with her, he never wanted to record before. For some reason, he wanted to see it. See their love.

“I love you. I want to record us.”

Sometimes they had to be separated from each other longer than both of them would have liked. He also wanted to have something just for them. In case they had that feeling of missing each other. As they went into the bathroom bare of any clothes they climbed into the tub together. Before Y/N went o go lay on his chest, she sat the phone in the corner of the tub. They just wanted it to be authentic.

As he watched it back, you couldn’t really see their faces due to the dim lighting. Anyone in the world could identify that it was Harry due to his recognizable tattoos.

The video first started with just some light touching. Y/N relaxed as Harry began to rub his hands across her stomach under the water. He went to kiss her neck and Y/N gave him clear access to it. As his hands lowered he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Of course, you couldn’t see what Harry’s hand started doing, but it was a clear indication of what it was when Y/N let out a long moan. His fingers slipped in between her cunt finding her clit. Y/N’s grip on the tub tightened as Harry’s unoccupied hand grabbed her thigh to try and keep them apart. He can now hear everything he is saying on video since he stopped talking in her ear.

“Let me see that pretty cunt, don’t hide from me.”

“You like how that feels? Talk to me, darling.”

“Just let me take care of you.”

He remembered how long that exact foreplay lasted so he decided to skip the video when it was near the end. He stopped at the part where Y/N was now riding him screaming out his name. You can hear and see Harry’s ecstasy. His moans could be heard from even the lowest volume on his computer. While he is being vocal his hands are scratching across Y/N’s lower back.

“I’m going to come, Harry. I can’t control it. Come with me please.” She said crying out as the water was nearly spilling out of the tub.

“Let me feel you, I’m right here.” As soon as she clamped down on him she collapsed into his arms slightly shaking from her orgasm. Harry released inside of her tightening his arms around her body and screaming out “I love you, you’re so good to me.” As he hugged her to his body, that's the only thing that repeated from his mouth until he felt her coming down.

The rest of the video is them cuddling while he is still inside of him until the screen cuts off for some reason. Y/N edited the video. He would never forget what he said at the end of that.

“One day, this will be us every day. You’ll be my wife. I have to make you my wife.”

Harry immediately deleted the email from his wife’s account for good. He let out a deep sigh leaning back in his office chair. There were just so many thoughts going through him. He needed to get the fuck out. So, he did exactly that. He had collected anything that he would be able to fit inside his car. He walked out of the home for the last time leaving memories behind that he never thought he would. Harry truthfully didn’t know where to go, so when he knocked on one of his close friend's door. He made his place in a spare room and was there until he found a temporary penthouse where he had been staying since.

…

These past months had flashed through his mind while he continued to watch her across the bar. Every emotion. He had never planned to see her again, well maybe again but not this soon. Once Y/N got up and excused herself from the group, Harry felt as if that was a green light. He trailed her close enough for him to see her, but not to alert her that someone was following her.

Once she pushed out the back door, she let out a heavy breath finally feeling free from having to be social. By now she had too many drinks, and was ready to head home. When she heard the back door open her head turned at the sound. Harry swore that he had never seen a person’s face turn into a deep scowl this fast. As the door shut, Y/N let out a loud scoff.

“What are you doing here, Harry?”

He kept his mouth shut for a while taking in her beauty. As if it was the first time he met her. He took in her grace. Only this time it wasn’t a curious stranger, it was a scorned lover. Who looked at him with so much hatred it made Harry want to run.

“I’m just here to talk.” He finally spoke and walked toward her. She backed away as if she feared him.

“Y-you followed me here?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I happened to be here too. You would think that after fucking me for a year you would know I come here with my friends.” Harry hated the bitterness laced his tone. He knew that it was about to get nasty.

“After a year of fucking,” she said under her breath. Laughing at his choice of words.

“I’m just saying what you’ve clearly felt. You didn’t feel any love from me, right? We were just fucking around for a year.” He was poking the bear on purpose. Over their time together, they both knew how to press each other's buttons in a way no one ever could.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Just quoting you, sweetheart. I actually saw everything that you had to say during your little email.” Y/N felt her face drop a little at the mention of the email. In her defense, she spent the time trying to bury Harry in a deep pocket in her brain. She recalled sending the email, but once she sent it she never reread what she said exactly. She didn’t want to. Whatever she typed first is exactly what she wanted to say.

“I-I forgot about the email.” She said breathlessly.

“You forgot about the email? Y-you fucking forgot about the email that turned my life upside down? The email that has me seeing my babies just for the weekend. Everything between us must really be shit if this is all so forgettable for you” She couldn’t believe the words falling out of his mouth.

“If that’s what you believe then why should I waste my time talking to you?”

“How the fuck do I know what to believe? You know for the first month I read that email over and over. Not understanding how you felt. You’re talking in that email with so much hate” Tears began to hit her eyes. Everything was starting to feel overwhelming. Feelings that she was trying to recover from.

“Then I start thinking about the soft touches, you kissing me, or even the night in that bathtub; I start to think to myself how a person could be so delicate with me and then send an email like that.” His voice was soft. She could remember the things that she said to him. She can remember the touches that her fingers felt. Looking at him was hurtful. Not only mentally grueling but physically. She could still feel his lingering touches on her skin after all this time.

“Was I some kind of thrill to you?” He asked provoking her. He just wanted her to talk to him. Even if she was screaming at him he wanted it. He wanted anything she would give him. “Fucking a married man and being able to get away with it? Did you ever even have one ounce of love for me? For us? Tell me!” He screamed out in the empty alleyway.

“You’re so blinded by one thing that I did, you can’t even see your own shit. You drove me to write that email. You can blame me for falling in love with you, sure. Then I’m going to need you to look in the mirror and recognize your own faults. Maybe on how this situation is all on you.”

Harry shook his head at her words, it wasn’t the fact that he didn’t already know this; He didn’t desire to hear it from the woman he still loved.

“You approached me first, even with the hotel you were the one who came to me.” He knew that he did, but he wouldn't be able to explain to anyone other than himself how he felt as if he had no choice. It felt that everything was fate. He let her talk because he had no idea if this was going to be the last time that they did. It was pathetic how he didn’t want this conversation to ever end. “So, don’t you ever stand here, and blame me for you getting less time with your kids. This happened because of your actions.”

“I know.”

“If you know why would you say that shit to me.”

“I-I don’t know.” Harry was at a loss for words now. Anything that they ever had died as soon as he walked out her door six months ago. Y/N stepped closer to Harry. It was too far for Harry’s liking, but if he wanted to he could reach out to her.

“You broke my heart, Harry.” She said weakly. A tear began to roll down her face and almost as if was in his nature Harry reached out to wipe it away. She whimpered at his touch. Harry savored this moment knowing that this would more than likely be the last time.

“I know, my heart. I didn't intend to, but it happened this way.”

“Why did you get her pregnant?” She knew that she sounded insane for the question, but it was the one thing that happened been circling in her head for months. This was the betrayal that hurt her the most. Y/N broke down thinking about it.

She had been filling up her head for months with this idea of her having a future with him. She imagined them together with kids one day. She had imagined them married. Even if she said now that she never thought about it even after they broke up, she would be lying to herself.

At night, she would often sit in her bed staring at the high ceiling, and think about what could have been. Harry hated to see the hurt that was across her face. Harry didn’t care if she hated him. He brought his arms around her letting her fall into his chest as she cried. She didn’t protest because his touch was her kryptonite. It felt so good to have him in this way even if it was only for a while.

“Shh, I never lied to you. I wasn’t trying to have another child with her. There must have been a slip-up. I’m sorry. I’m not moving either, not anymore. I’m staying here. I didn't mean for things to go this way. I didn’t know what to do.” He whispered out to her. Maybe if he said these things six months ago, then it would have turned out differently for the two lovers.

He didn’t know if his words consoled her. All he could hope for was that she heard him. “What I said about the email was true. I forgot about it because I’ve been trying to erase you from my memory. How could I erase you if you’re the first person I’ve ever loved like this? It doesn’t make it easier if I see you, Harry.” She stepped back away from him.

Harry was surprised when he felt her lips on his. He immediately brought his hands to her hips keeping her close to him. Feeling her sweet touch after this long, was something he never knew he needed. As she broke away a little too soon for his liking. She stared into his emerald eyes which held so much joy. She knew Harry was more than likely hoping that this would be their reunion.

“You need to let me recover from you. If you see me in public ignore me. Avoid places that we both like. I don’t know what the hell you will have to do.” Harry’s mouth dropped in shock. He felt as if his heart was beating more rapidly with each sentence.

“We are now ghosts to each other. My heart can’t take any more damage from you. You will let me go. For good, Harry. Forget me. There is no other option for us.”

“What happened to we can get through anything thrown our way? You said that. They’re your words.”

“Things change, Harry.” She tore her eyes off of him and stormed past him back inside.

As she passed by, he closed his eyes basking in her scent that trialed a few seconds behind her. It was gone by that time he heard the door slam, signaling her being gone for good. There was no trace of her. Harry knew that it would be too painful to knowingly be in the same room after everything.

He walked down the alley not caring about the darkness until he called a cab. She had asked him to forget her. No matter how painful it was for him to do, he followed the one request that his lover asked. No matter how many years would pass that’s always what she would be to him. He’s broken more than enough promises to her. He needed to do something right, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

Forget her.

A/N: Ahh! The end of cheater H! Thank you for being here and reading along. There were so many different ways I could have gone, but this for me feels the most right. I went back and forth if I should reunite them or show them a few years later. As much as I loved both ideas this ending felt the most real to me. Also, it leaves me an opening if I ever feel inspired to add an ending to them. Maybe in the future or if someone requested I can write a few blurbs about different parts of their relationship. Time will tell. Thank you so much once again. I love you. <3

(tagged @harrysficreblog @bxbyysstuff @devilsqueen722)

#harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #cheater h #harry styles fluff

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juminies · 11 months

Text

before I met you,

jumin finds that writing vows is somewhat more complicated than anticipated

jumin x reader, 1038 words, fluff

♡

He draws a single line through a sentence he’s written (rewritten) 10 times already. Huffs as he puts his pen down. He had been so confident about this a few hours ago!

Elizabeth 3rd jumps up onto his desk upon hearing his displeasure; knocks the pen to the floor as she does with a disconcerting clatter that makes Jumin wince slightly. She nudges her head against his arm. He retracts it and runs his hand through his hair, pushing stray strands out of his face, then returns it to to scratch under her chin. He rests against his other hand, squishing his face into a slight pout.

“Am I overthinking it?” he asks her. She leans into his pets, purring as he continues, “I feel this would be much easier if I had someone to run it by. V would be the obvious suggestion, but he’s almost impossible to get a hold of these days. I could request Assistant Kang’s advice, but I highly doubt she’d like to be involved with my personal business”—a pause—“and I forgot I gave her a vacation. Tsk.”

The feline leisurely stretches herself out over his notes in response.

His tone becomes more of an indirect musing as he adds, “Luciel already shared that link to the strange wedding forum which turned out to be relatively useless, and I can’t see Yoosung nor my father being particularly helpful in this area for vastly different reasons. Zen could have an idea because of acting… but no. I would rather not bicker over my wedding vows.” He bends down to pick up his pen from the floor. “Maybe I’ll keep him in mind as a last resort.”

Jumin knows how he feels about you. He feels it so, so deeply that there’s absolutely no mistaking it — love resonates from his very being when he’s so much as in your presence. What you’ve done for him, what you continue to do for him, there’s no doubt that you’ve changed him for the better. He only hopes he can continue to be the same for you. But how to express it in words barely comes naturally to him after so long keeping all emotion bottled away. It still feels a bit awkward, sometimes, even confessing his love to you aloud.

“You’re good with words,” you’d told him once. “Do you know that?” He does know, he told you. Being good with words had always been one of his strongest capabilities. It’s something he’s proud of. He’s succinct, confident, persuasive. Usually. For some reason when it comes to you he often finds himself practically tongue-tied. Not to mention he’s never been put in a position that makes him feel so vulnerable.

He looks back to Elizabeth 3rd. “I can acknowledge that you won’t be at all insightful either way, but I could at least use a practice audience.”

He gently shifts her off of the paper he’d been writing on and picks up the most recent draft, clearing his throat as his eyes scan over the first couple of lines.

“Before I met you, I—”

Then he’s interrupted by a soft piano melody drifting from his phone.

“Jumin,” you chime when he picks up. Hearing you call his name immediately washes away the discontentment he’d been feeling just moments prior. “I texted you a little while ago but you didn’t respond, so I thought I'd call in case you didn't see. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon. I know you don’t like sudden interruptions much.”

“Considerate as always. Thank you.”

“You better not have been working on your day off.”

He smiles. “Not a morsel of C&R related activity is going on here, don’t worry.”

“Good. I’ll see you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Thirty?” he asks.

There’s a long pause before you admit, “...An hour.”

“Alright.” A warm chuckle. “I’ll see you then.”

“I love you!”

“I love you too.”

—

“Forty-seven minutes,” Jumin confirms as you let yourself into the penthouse. “I’ll try to be more precise next time,” you tease as you walk into the kitchen and begin to carefully unpack two slices of cheesecake from the bag you’d been carrying them in. You click your tongue upon noticing one of them is slightly messed up from the journey over.

“How was your morning?” Jumin asks. He leans to rest on the kitchen island beside you.

“I met a nice older woman while I was browsing in the bakery nearby. She stopped me to tell me I look like C&R Jumin Han’s wife.”

“Wife?” he echoes. He likes the way the word feels, he’s come to find. “What did you tell her?”

“Well I was a bit surprised. Nobody has ever told me I look like your partner rather than just asking if I am. Typically I try to avoid answering, because I don’t know who’s asking. Of course I’m proud beyond belief to be marrying you”—you bite back a smile as his face lights up—“but you know how I am with not wanting to draw too much attention to myself. I just wanted my cheesecake.”

“Beyond belief?” Jumin asks.

“Of course,” you reiterate, leaning in quickly to press a kiss to his lips before turning around to grab dessert plates from a cupboard. “But that’s besides the point! I wasn’t in a hurry, and she seemed sweet, so I laughed and told her I actually am his fiancée.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t believe me!”

“Oh? How dare she accuse my dearest wife-to-be of being a liar.” There’s a grin on his face when you turn back to him that couldn’t possibly disguise the fact that he finds it just the slightest bit amusing. “We ought to track her down and tell her off.”

“We could invite her to the wedding to prove a point,” you suggest as you move the cake to the plates and slide Jumin the less beat-up piece. Something about the gesture makes the idea of finishing his vows seem a lot less intimidating all of a sudden.

He switches his plate with yours before speaking again. “The more people who get to see you make me your husband the better.”

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x mc #jumin x reader #annfic

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arvensimp · 9 months

Text

Choose Your Own Adventure, pt. 2

[part 1] --- [part 3]

As a thank you for the 1000 followers, I thought it might be fun to do a Choose Your Own Adventure fic. I've got a starting prompt linked above, and each part will be followed by a poll where you, the audience, will pick what happens next. Each poll will only last 24 hours, so definitely act fast if you want your voice heard!

Each part will only be 1000 words, and my intent is to keep this GN.

For now, there are no warnings.

What do you do next?

Invite Arven on a tera raid as a potential method to find more herba mystica

As Arven is explaining himself, he starts packing. In no time, the table and lamp are stowed away in his massive backpack. It’s evident from the casual speed with which he moves that he’s well used to his equipment and traveling with it. He'll be out and gone in two shakes of a flaaffy’s tail.

“Actually,” You start. Arven pauses and looks up at you, blowing a tuft of hair from his face. It falls right back to where it sat before. “If it’s herba mystica you’re after, your best bet might be tera raids. We haven’t had sightings of any herbs in the caves through here, but… Well, some trainers that come through talk about finding interesting plants after they’ve beaten extra strong terastalized pokemon…” You pull your rotom phone from one of the many pockets you have in your uniform and do a quick search.

“Oh, that’s… I dunno…” Arven starts.

“Looks like we got a formation coming up along the border with Glaseado Mountain!” You interrupt him. “Lucky, right?”

“Yeah…” He sounds less than sure of himself. “I’m, uh…not really much of a battler.”

“What?” You scoff, almost teasingly. “That’s not the Arven I remember. Weren’t you in the School Battle Brawls? You were, like, a founding participant if I remember right.”

From his place kneeling on the ground where he’d paused from packing, Arven covers the lower half of his face with a palm and looks away. He speaks softly; not in the gruff, nearly abrasive manner you remember from your teenage years.

“Well, yeah… Never won though…”

“Duh!” You respond immediately, and Arven turns to glare at you, still clearly embarrassed. You catch yourself quickly and squat down to his level, passing him an errant berry that must’ve fallen from his pack. “That tournament was filled with champion level students, elite-four members, the literal champion herself, and retired gym leaders. It’s…not surprising you didn't win? The fact that you entered at all and held your own is still pretty cool if you ask me.”

“I guess…”Arven takes the snack from your hands, and you feel his thumb brush against your palm before he retracts.

“I was always too much of a scaredy-skitty to even try, you know?” You confide. “But look at me now. I do actual rescues with my partners! I can only imagine how much stronger you and your Mabosstiff must be after all this time.”

Arven quirks a brow, restrains a scoff. “Your Mareep does rescues?”

He remembers your pokemon? A laugh bubbles up from your throat.

“Ampharos now, but yes! Having light is important at night or in caves. Also, docile, fluffy pokemon help calm lost, panicked individuals.”

He huffs. “I guess. Still. I wouldn’t really call myself a battler.”

You stand and stretch, your back and shoulders cracking. “I would! From what I remember? You kicked ass, man! Sounds like maybe you’ve just lost some of your confidence in battle.” A pause. “Not… I mean… Not that I can speak for your life or something, but… I could go with you?”

Is this weird? Should you be making this kind of effort? Especially when he’s technically trespassing? You weren’t particularly close in school. The guy didn’t show up to classes often, so you didn’t see him much. Sure, he was cute then…and he’s gorgeous now, but…

"Agh, sorry." You quickly concede. "I shouldn’t try to push you into a raid or battling. I just…um…" A nervous chuckle. "I admired how strong you became towards the end of our academy days… It seemed like you blossomed or something, I dunno."

Arven stares at you blankly from where he's still kneeled down, having paused from packing his bag.

"Ah, sorry, definitely weird to say." You feel a prickle of heat blossoming on your cheeks. "Listen. Let me just make sure you get outta here safe and sound, then we can forget this happened, okay?"

Arven is silent a moment, and you swear you've made this awkward beyond repair.

"...Where did you say the raid was?"

You can’t help the small smile that breaks across your face. "Just over by Glaseado Mountain. The scanners say it's a…" You check your phone again. "Ghost type."

"...Mabosstiff would do well." Arven seems to softly reason to himself, then a bit more loudly. "Alright. Let's do this."

In very little time, the pair of you make your way to the raid’s sparkling, jagged entrance. Arven frets a bit when no other trainers arrive, so you agree to each use two pokemon. He chooses Mabosstiff, of course, and Scovillain, as it's his one other partner with a ghost-type advantage move. You use Ampharos and Azumarill as support for him against what ends up being a ghost tera-type Blissey.

"It's…been a while." Arven mumbles as you make your way to the cave’s center.

"No big deal.” You reason. “Worst comes to worst, we heal up our pokemon and run. Anyway, I'm sure your pokemon will be happy for a chance to do their thing again!"

Arven hums. "Their 'thing' has been naps in sun beams, trying out new menu items, and getting treats from customers. It's been a while since we even thought about fighting anywhere near the level we used to…"

"Listen, I'm not judging. Let's just do our best. Like I said, if anything goes awry, we run. If not, we might get you those herbs!"

Arven gives a half smile. "Thanks. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

You grin right back, exaggeratedly gesturing to your uniform. "If it keeps you out of a prohibited area, then I kiiiinda have to? It's in the job description. Nearly positive."

He laughs. "Yeah, no rock slide risks, but tera raids are fine.”

“Occupational hazard.” You shrug, approaching the crystalline pokemon. “We can’t keep trainers from battles, but we can steer them from some bad terrain.”

Arven sighs, the joke over, as he thumbs the button of Mabosstiff’s pokeball. “Alright… Let's see how this goes."

What drop, if any, do you get from the raid? [poll]

Sweet Herba Mystica

Salty Herba Mystica

Sour Herba Mystica

Bitter Herba Mystica

Spicy Herba Mystica

No drop, you lost

#arven fanfic #arven x reader #trainer arven #rival arven #arven pokemon #arven #pkmn arven

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twst-drabbles · 2 years

Text

Azul 13

Summary: In which you gently tease Azul. You couldn’t help it, you can see him wanting to be your affectionate little guppy again.

(He’s a fun one to write. To make a mess of.)

You leaned back on your arms as you lazily kicked your legs in the water, gazing at an Azul that was trying so hard to seem like he’s not fidgeting. His tentacles would skim past your legs, but then he would flinch away and pretend he didn’t just do that.

The pool you had built was large enough to contained this smaller version of Azul. Not his colossal deep sea size but the more human-ish size. His compact seafolk size, as you would say. Either way, he had more than enough room to not be bumping into you, and yet here he is.

“Haa,” Azul sighed out, filling the silence as a distraction from whatever awkwardness he’s feeling, “as fun as Jade and Floyd are, one must admit how nice it is to be away from them, if only for a moment.”

You didn’t entertain him. You felt just the slightest bit sadistic today, so you couldn’t help but chuckle when your silence flushed the tips of Azul’s ears. He knows as well as you do that he’s just stalling, keeping himself from doing what he wants to do.

“It’s hard to believe this place was built in such a short amount of time. Not to mention the perfect temperature of the water.” Azul swam to the edge, resting his head against his crossed arms. “Crowley doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to think of all these details.”

But, you did decide to throw some mercy his way, so you asked, “Azul, remember when you were smaller? When you would pepper my face with kisses? Whatever happened to that little guppy of mine?”

His tendrils immediately retracted as his neck flushed. You kept smiling at him.

“I—well,” Azul scooted away, coughing into his hand, “Caretaker, I was younger, naïve. I’ve long since grown out of that phase.”

You reached out a hand, beckoning him closer. You know him too well. “Come here. Nobody’s here to watch. It can be our little secret.”

He watched, interested, from the corner of his eyes. He’s still slightly hunched over, as though trying to protect the vulnerable parts of his body. But he eventually straighten himself up, clumsily putting on his confidence.

“Well,” you can see the way his fingers twitched, “if you want to spoil me so much, I hardly have the heart to say no.” It’s rather amazing how he manages to keep his tone so steady, all the while looking like he’ll combust. He’s trying so hard to keep his composure.

He followed your hand, letting his arms rest gently on your legs. Azul’s neck did stiffen slightly when you tilted his face down, but the tension within those muscles let go the second you placed a kiss on his hairline. His usually cool skin was hot against your lips as you moved to peck forehead, little noised bubbling in his throat. The third kiss, just above his brow, was when Azul started nudging his face upward, subtly wanting your lips right on his cheeks as he gave a sigh.

You chuckled and instead assaulted his jaw with fast little pops of your lips. You froze when a happy, watery chirp was ripped from Azul’s body.

You pulled back, taking in his closed eyes, his flushed skin, and the little squeaks he’s trying so hard to keep inside himself.

Wistfully, you said, “There’s my little guppy.”

Azul’s tentacles wrapped around your ankles, gripping you tight as he let a trill loose. He buried his face in your hands, positively embarrassed.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #sanctuary au #reader insert

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Note

Hi mind if i ask this

Steve x super soildier reader

The team found her in hydras hide out suspected of mass experimentation all they found are rows of cryo chambers most were shot so the experiments are dead and one is intact breathing and kept as back up after bucky escape . She has been brain wash like bucky and still retains memories .

I'm Your Mission

That's what Buck said to him in that falling helicarrier.

You're my mission.

But Bucky was also Steve's friend, a lifelong true love that knew him through and through.

You do not. The only thing you know is that Steve Rogers is your enemy and you have to kill him.

Natasha tries several 'cognitive resets,' pistol-whipping you across the temple to knock you out when the cryo tube opens, shocking you with her batons when you wake strapped down in the quinjet, and just good ol' fashioned punching you during the first interrogation.

She means well. Nat knows what Bucky went through, and she's trying to shortcut to you waking up as you. It's not working.

Each time your eyes land on Steve, you go completely feral, and you're almost strong enough to get to him, to get through people to him.

Then Buck tries.

It's immediate--the change in your demeanor--and a bit sickening for Steve to watch his friend lock himself in the room with you in clear Winter Soldier mode.

Bucky speaks in Russian, which Steve can't understand, and Natasha doesn't translate.

Steve's confused when Bucky slaps you across the face, and you just take it. The Winter Soldier was your predecessor and your superior obviously. You can't lift a finger against him. You have to follow his orders.

That's when Bucky nods at the camera, and Nat goes in to finish the interrogation--again, all in Russian.

Steve walks away from observation but links the camera feed to his tablet, checking in every so often for hours while they are in there.

Not one move. Not even to scratch or wipe your face. You've sat in a chair, ramrod straight, for half a day by the time Nat leaves your room and Bucky follows.

Hydra never retrained you against Bucky as a traitor, so they've gotten lucky there. His friend is so confident in that level of programmed obedience that Buck even says you could probably be let out and wouldn't go after Steve.

Steve's not so sure.

Hydra stole a photostatic veil from SHIELD a long time ago, and from the research video acquired at the site where they found you, Hydra used the mask--with Steve's face--to punish you. Every brain wipe, every beating, every surgery, you saw Steve do it to you.

If you're not going to kill him, the best he can ever hope for is that you fear him.

Steve doesn't know why that makes him sad.

As some sort of sick joke, Hydra designated you 'Autumn,' but Steve hates to use that name when it clearly isn't who you really are. They've found no record of who you were before.

You're Bucky's shadow for weeks before Bruce can figure out a way to jolt your brain out of it. You only speak Russian (although you clearly comprehend everything said around you in almost any language), and you only speak to Bucky, unless he orders you to answer someone.

Still in Russian though.

Bucky's told him, too, that you've never mentioned Steve by name. He is always 'the target,' 'the mission,' and most disturbingly 'the prize.'

Steve gets a little nervous when he hears that term (after he looks it up, of course) fall from your lips while you stare directly at him.

He's more excited than he should be when the day comes for Bruce to test his equipment, and you obediently sit in the chair and bite down on the mouth guard, staring with that intense gaze at the ceiling.

They could be about to do anything to you, and you would just take it silently.

Steve shudders at the thought.

The headpiece retracts and you sit up, looking at your hands while squinting in confusion. It's the most facial expression Steve's ever seen on you, but does it mean you're not in Soldier mode anymore?

Everyone steps a little closer, hoping.

Buck and Nat are muttering what must be reassurances while you scan the room, face molding through a few emotions during the slow turn...

...until you see Steve.

And that's the first time he hears it. You breathe his name.

His heart stops, and his mouth goes bone dry.

You stand tentatively but rush toward him with purpose. The others shout warnings and some Russian orders to stop, but you don't. Your face looks relieved as your arms lift and encircle Steve's neck.

He's almost knocked back. Steve may as well be a feather, he's so shocked.

"Oh, ok," Bruce sighs, "that's a good sign."

Over your shoulder, Steve sees Bucky smile, and his friend gets closer.

"I told her all about who you are, to me, to the team. I knew she'd remember once..."

Nat crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, don't be rude, Rogers."

Your grip tightens. Whatever serum Hydra gave you is different from his and Bucky's because your strength is deceptive. You aren't chiseled and giant like they are, even though he's seen you spar with Bucky and been mildly terrified (combined with something else Steve's not willing to admit yet). You look more normal than they do.

His arms wrap your waist in response, and he can feel an oh-so-comfortable softness to your actual body. It takes only a few seconds to melt all the way into the hug, tucking his face into your shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry," you whisper into the air behind him.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Steve mumbles back. "It wasn't you." He squeezes a little more before finally getting to ask.

"What's your name?"

oh NOOOOOO, gang. I love this. I may or may not be addicted to this idea. So many thots. So little space in my stupid series wip list...

Let me know what you think. You wanna see more of these two? I kinda do. Anyway, reblogs and comments always appreciated!

Masterlist here

[Already a follow-up lol]

#ro answers #steve rogers #fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve x you #fluff and feels #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steven grant rogers #super soldier #supersoldier!reader #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction

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iheartyouyou · 2 years

Text

Always choose the second guy, because if you loved the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second one. | Eddie Munson

Summary: When you’re dating two boys at once, one publicly and one secretly, things don’t always go well with the one you actually love.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, cuss words, mentions of sex

Authors Note: This is inspired by Johnny Depp’s famous quote: “if you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second.” Let’s just pray for my baby Eddie tonight. Also wrote this in a hour so there may be spelling or grammar mistakes as I didn’t proofread this! Enjoy :)

Guilt was eating you up by the very second. There stood, Jason Carver, your boyfriend, holding a sign. The very bright red words ‘Y/N, will you go to prom with me?” written on it.

Your heart dropped. You sat there, eyes on the neatly handwritten words. Jason has sloppy handwriting. Probably got someone to write it for him. Your eyes then drifted, locking on Eddie. Even though you were on opposite sides of the cafeteria, you can still see he was begging you not to say yes with his eyes.

You started dating Jason the summer of 85’, but when school started and you got sat next to the metalhead, you immediately fell in love. But you couldn’t date him, especially since you were apparently in a “commuted relationship.”

The two of you agreed to date in secret. At first, it was just hooking up. Fuck buddies with no strings attached, but when you confessed your feelings, the two of you became more than just fuck buddies. Leading to him asking you out, taking you on dates, secret notes, longing stares, fucking in the janitor’s closet, sneaking through your window, and more.

You asked Eddie what he was going to do for prom, he said it was lame, which broke your heart a bit since you were hoping he would ask you… or you would ask him.

He noticed the way your face fell that moment, reaching forward to push hair out of your face. “We can go to that diner that just opened up instead? Maybe take it to go and go to Lovers Lake? We can eat it there and star gaze?” He suggests. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up, grinning from ear to ear. He starts poking your sides. “Maybe makeout? Fuck on top of the van?”

Eddie stood up from his chair, storming out of the cafeteria. You gasped quietly. You wanted to run after him, you should’ve ran after him.

“Y/N?” Jason asks, catching your attention.

“Oh—uhm. Yes.” You answer quickly, standing up. You give him a peck on the lips. “Thank you but I really need to go. I forgot I was going to ask Mrs. Green for extra credit.”

You rush out before he could answer, going out the same door as Eddie did. You can hear cheering erupting from behind you, but you didn’t care. You needed to find Eddie.

“Eddie?” You shout as you made your way down the hall, pushing through the doors leading outside. You spot him, pacing back and forth in front of his van.

“Eddie!” You shout again, running towards him. He looks up, surprised.

“Eddie?” You question, approaching him. You try to reach forward, grabbing his hand but he quickly retracts his hand.

“Did you say yes?” He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab his hand again but he backs away. “Did you say yes?”

You stay silent. You try to make eye contact with him, but he avoids your gaze, keeping his on the ground.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He takes a moment to process what you just said before laughing. “Fucking knew it.”

“I-I couldn’t just say no, Eds.”

He throws his hands up in the air, finally meeting your eyes. “What about me? What about OUR plans?”

You shrink down, now suddenly not feeling as confident as you were earlier.

“I’m sor—“

“It’s always gonna be him, isn’t it? Ba— Y/N, shit. You can’t just date two boys at the same time!”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you said you were fine with it?”

He laughs once again, tugging on his hair. “What boyfriend would be fine with their girl dating another guy?”

You shrug. “You said you were fine with it…”

“Of course I’m not fine with it! I only said that because you were finally giving me a chance! I probably wouldn’t have cared if you were dating 5 other guys! But—“ He points at you. “Saying, claiming, that you would break up with him, getting my hopes up knowing that soon I’ll be able to show you off only for you to say yes to going to prom with him?”

Your eyes brim with tears. He has never yelled at you like this. Actually, he has never yelled or even shouted at you. You wrap your arms around yourself. “I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”

Eddie scoffs. “I just explained to you why it is!”

He rubs his eyes hastily, turning around. You looked up, staring at the back of his head. You really hoped this was just a nightmare, that you would wake up and you would be safely tucked into Eddie’s arm, your favorite blanket covering the both of you.

You hear him sigh, turning back around to face you, eyes red and jaw clenched. “Figure out your shit. It’s either me or Jason— I’m not doing this anymore.” He turns to get into his van, slamming the door shut.

You run up to the door, trying to open it. “Eddie? Eddie! Come on, please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I choose you! I choose you!”

But he drives off, not looking back once.

“Hypothetically?” The counselor asks, looking up from her clipboard.

“Yes.” You mumble, fiddling with your hands. After your argument with Eddie, you showed up to his trailer, hoping to apologize. His uncle answered, shooing you off. When he didn’t show up to school the next day, you didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t answering your calls, he wasn’t showing up to school, his van wasn’t at his trailer. You felt helpless.

You wanted to talk to one of your friends about it. You needed advice on what to do, but you knew those fake bitches would take it the wrong way and would tell Jason.

So, you went to the school counselor. You had been seeing her since freshman year, and you trusted her with everything. But… just to be sure, you asked her what to do about Eddie and Jason. Instead, not using names and it being ‘hypothetical’

“Well… Do you love the first guy?”

Of course you did. You loved Jason with your whole heart. How could she ask you that?

“Yes.”

“Do you love the second guy?”

Yes. You did. You really did, but you also loved Jason. You couldn’t lose the both of them. You just couldn’t.

“Yes.”

“Always choose the second guy, because if you really loved the first guy, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second one. But it’s all hypothetical.” She says calmly, placing her clipboard on her lap.

You thought about it for a moment. Did you really love Eddie and just like Jason? Was Eddie someone you actually loved, can’t live without? You thought all the way back to when you first met Eddie. He was slightly unimpressed by the extra amount of school supplies on your desk, but he still tried to be nice. When you confessed your feelings for him, expecting to be rejected, he just simply smiled. A lovesick smile. Taking you in his arms and whispering nothing but affection into your ear.

But when you thought back to the argument. He was willing to date you even though it would be secret. Even though you had the same soft lips he adored, on someone else’s.

He was willing to do anything, just so he could fall asleep with his arms around you every night when you couldn’t even do the same for him.

Taglist: None, yet :)

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #st4 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

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alektowrites · 1 year

Text

Chorus Reginarum (teaser)

PAIRING: Kang Seulgi x Fem! Reader ________________ WARNINGS: HOTD and GOT references, attempted assassination, E2L, you marry the villain to save your kingdom trope, dark royalty AU, tension, darkling! Seulgi, princess reader, the reader is trying to figure out her feeling but don't worry she'll get there, dancing in a dim ballroom (yie) and that's pretty much it for now skskks ________________ SYNOPSIS: With word of the southern kingdom that threatens the new regime, you suggest going there make them bend the knee, peacefully.

But nothing ever goes to plan, does it? ________________ A/N: This is part 2 of Nigri Victoris

ANYWAY, I'm sorry but I revised this as soon as the originally drafted one-shot was corrupted, and since I have a memory of a goldfish I had to rewrite huhu, please bear with me🥹 ________________

"Seulgi," You managed to choke out as the raven-haired beauty crossed her legs; her hands seemed preoccupied with something. Sitting on the throne looks good on her.

"Y/N," She inclines her head to the side, "You look like you've seen a ghost, sweetling."

Your name rolls smoothly off her tongue, and you relish it. But you brushed it off as you cleared your throat. "I was just surprised to see you so suddenly." You rectified, "I would've been informed by the staff."

The room echoes with her chuckle, "I asked them to keep quiet about my arrival to surprise you tomorrow but it seems like there's no need." She intertwines her fingers while concealing her item. "Surprise me?" You mused as she stood up from her throne and took slow strides towards you, the ends of her cloak flowed with her movements. "Yes, seeing that you've missed me."

Amusement etches on your features as you open your mouth to argue, but she beats you to it. "Don't lie, darling. We know it's true." She purred and you giggled with your cheeks tinted pink as she stood close to you, you held your breath as you lock eyes with the darkling, her emerald eye twinkling with excitement.

"I bought you something," She smiles, her tone hinting excitement before she shows you a beautiful black diamond necklace. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks upon seeing the accessory. "Where did you…" You trailed off when Seulgi grins and retracts the necklace.

"Turn around," She softly commands and you obey as you take a handful of your hair and raised it, enough for her to get a clearing of your neck. "You now own a piece of my ancestry; steel and black diamonds."

Her steps echo in the room, your breath hitched when Seulgi's cold breath fanned your nape before her slender fingers circle your neck to put on your necklace. Your skin tingles when it comes in contact with her hands, you swallow as you hear a satisfying 'click' and she withdraws.

Automatically you turn around to face her. Her round face beams with pride as she folds her hands behind her back; her green-hued eyes taking you in, drinking at the sight of you wearing her gift. Your skin tingles and is light ablaze by her gaze, and your stomach churns as you held her stare; carefully guarded but filled with mirth and if you dared to look closer, happiness.

"Beautiful," She mutters and your face warmed, and the muscles in your stomach flutter at her praise. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Yes," You gasped as she took a step closer and takes a purchase of your hair before bringing it close to her lips. She studies your face and found no lie before smiling, and no it's not the small smile anymore. Rather, it was bright, heart-throbbing, and charming. You find yourself wanting to see more of it.

"Their complements are shallow then," She declares with confidence. You find yourself scoffing with mirth. "Oh really?" You challenged, "What makes you say that?"

She pressed your hair against her lips, you hold her gaze.

"Because some people only take one look at a masterful artwork of such beauty and immediately say that it's beautiful without really asking why." She rasps before letting go of your hair.

"What do I mean by that, Y/N." She inhales, "Is that no one appreciates your beauty as I have."

#rv seulgi #kang seulgi #red velvet seulgi #seulgi #seulgi x reader #fem reader #Kpop #red velvet x reader #kpop imagines

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gemiiniifiish · 5 years

Text

Having to buy and try a Speedo swimwear

I have always been a good swimmer and am often down at the local pool. I joined the school swimming team last month. The day before the first practice, my friend told me that the team operated a Speedo only policy, so I apprehensively went out and bought one. I had never worn one before, so was really nervous about wearing it, especially in front of all my friends in the first day of the practice. I remember I went bright red, and when I stood up to get in the pool, one of the guys playfully grabbed my butt. I ignored it and went into the pool as if nothing had happened.

I have always been a good swimmer and am often down at the local pool. The refreshing feeling of being in the water has always been a source of joy and relaxation for me. It’s like entering a different world, where I can let go of all my worries and simply focus on the rhythmic strokes and the sensation of gliding through the water. Last month, an exciting opportunity arose when I was invited to join the swimming team at my school. I couldn’t contain my excitement and immediately accepted the offer. Little did I know that this experience would lead to a memorable and slightly awkward situation.

The day before the first practice, my friend casually let me in on a secret – the team had a policy that required all members to wear Speedo swimwear. My heart skipped a beat as I realized I didn’t own one. Feeling a mix of nerves and determination, I decided to face the challenge head-on and went out to buy my very first Speedo.

Entering the swimwear store, a wave of anticipation washed over me. It was time to embark on a new adventure and push myself out of my comfort zone. As I perused the aisles, I couldn’t help but notice the vibrant array of Speedos that adorned the racks. From bold patterns and eye-catching colors to sleek and classic designs, there was a Speedo for every personality and preference. I approached the display, feeling a mix of nervousness and determination. My eyes were drawn to a particular Speedo, adorned with a Giant AD logo printed digitally on both the front and back. The contrasting colors and striking design immediately caught my attention, making me feel as though I would stand out in a sea of swimmers.

“May I try this one on?” I asked the sales associate, my voice betraying a hint of excitement. She nodded with a warm smile, leading me to the fitting rooms.

I grumbled quietly as I stalked over to the changing booth, drawing the curtain behind me. Once safely inside I examined the soft, shiny speedo, holding it up for inspection. I was immediately struck by how the pouch in front of the men’s ones seemed so much bigger than on my usual boys’ speedos. I could feel my cock and balls retracting slightly and I gave them a quick tug through my jeans before placing the speedo on the little chair and struggling out of my t-shirt and jeans.

I stood there in my white briefs in front of the mirror for a moment before sighing and slipping off my underwear, the familiar site of my tiny, uncut penis and small balls failed to instill in me much confidence, nor did the meagre dusting of public hair which had finally begun to grow just above my penis the previous year. I stepped into the speedo and pulled it up around my waist. Straight away I could see that, quite simply, I did not even come close to filling out the front of the men’s speedos. Slipping into the snug-fitting swimwear, I marveled at the sensation of the silky fabric against my skin. The blend of polyester and elastane provided a comfortable stretch that hugged my body without feeling restrictive. I couldn’t help but admire the way the fabric accentuated my physique, boosting my confidence and making me feel ready to take on any challenge that awaited me. As I stood in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but appreciate the boldness of my choice. The Speedo was more than just a piece of swimwear; it was a symbol of my willingness to step outside of my comfort zone and embrace new experiences.

And so, with a renewed sense of purpose, I left the store, clutching my new Speedo and feeling an indescribable excitement for the adventures that lay ahead.

#high school #liifiinner

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sxtaep · 2 years

Text

SELF BET (m) - J.JK

↬ description: your overconfident self challenges jungkook to a bet; a bet that involved intimacy and bare bodies. All that confidence slipped just as quick as your self control.

pairings — jungkook x female oc

genre — smut

word count — 1.2k

warnings/tags — dom!jungkook, sub!reader, swearing, cockwarming, raw, dirty talk, slight degredation, begging, teasing + more

a/n: this was written in 2020, so please excuse the lack of buildup in this :’(

“Jungkook?”

He looked away from his phone and gestures towards you, “Hm?”

“Let’s make a bet,” you smirk, walking over to him and taking a seat beside him, licking arms with him.

“Shit, how much are we betting? I’ve only got $80 in my wallet so-“

You cover his mouth with your hand to stop him from talking. “We’re not betting money, silly,” you say, retracting your hand from him. “We’re gonna... bet ourselves, if that makes sense.”

“I’m gonna need more details.”

“Lets try cock warming. Whoever moves first, loses, and the the other person can do whatever they want to the loser. Got it?”

You always had time for a good bet, and a good game, especially if you were guaranteed the win.

“Say no more, baby,” Jungkook says, already unbuckling his belt and pulling his trousers down to his ankles, along with his boxers, freeing his length from its confines.

Using his large hands, he strokes himself a few times to get the blood rushing to his cock, low moans escaping his lips.

You simply watch the man in awe, admiring the way his his once soft cock, was now growing hard in his hold, as he fucked his fist at a pace which you could do so much better, but that wasn’t the situation at hand.

“Stand up.”

You’re stripped of your thoughts, not wasting another second as you quickly get up from your seat and stand in front of him.

“Take off your jeans.”

You nod and immediately hook your fingers to the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs and kicking them off.

“Turn around.”

You turn your body away from him slowly, and Jungkook groans at the sight of your bare legs and the cute curve of your ass.

“Now, walk backwards.”

You start to take small steps back, keeping your hands out around you, making sure you didn’t bump into anything and hurt yourself.

Once you were close enough to Jungkook’s reach, he grabbed your hips, pulling you back towards him.

You gasp and grab a hold of his wrists as he pushes your panties to the side, before pulling you down onto his lap and swiftly inserting his cock inside you, raw and hard.

You felt your walls stretch as Jungkook watched his cock disappear between your walls, earning a satisfied groan from him.

He leans in towards your ear and whispers, “Get ready to lose, baby.”

Your body stiffens from the close proximity, and you couldn’t lie, you almost moved, but his teasing advances weren’t affecting you just yet.

10 minutes pass by, and neither of you have moved.

Jungkook was too busy watching TV and so were you, and you couldn’t help but slightly turn your head a little, wanting to see what exactly he was feeling.

He paid no attention to you, eyes glued to the screen as you watched him from your peripherals. He didn’t seem like he was gonna back down anytime soon, but you were slowly becoming desperate, the ache between your legs growing rapidly

“I can already feel you soaking my cock. Are you that desperate for a fuck?”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush a light shade of pink.

He had a shit ton of self control, something you lacked in when it came to sexual advances. Jungkook knew how to keep himself in check, and that was one thing you weren’t really fond of.

You just wanted him to move.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he responds, picking up the remote and flicking through the channels.

You start to shift slightly, causing a quiet whimper to escape your lips, and Jungkook to smirk.

“What’s wrong, loser?”

You roll your eyes, and start to move your hips, already accepting the fact that you embarrassingly lost the bet you started.

“Fuck me,” you moan breathlessly, grabbing one of your breasts, and kneading the flesh in your hold, hoping it would somehow get you off.

Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Well, I won the bet, so I can do as I please with you.”

You eventually lift your hips off of him, making Jungkook furrow his eyebrows at you, and grab onto your hips, his grip rough as he slams you back down on his cock, searing through your insides and earning a loud cry from you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he seethes, digging his fingers deeper into your hips.

“I—”

“—No. I said I’m gonna do as I please with you, which means you do not do anything without my instruction.”

He let go of your hips and leans back against the sofa, his expression softening. He looked rather amused watching you sit there, stuffer full of his cock.

“So how about we start with you fucking yourself on my cock? Since you’re so desperate for it, you can do it yourself.”

Your heart drops. You couldn’t ride him even if you wanted to. You simply didn’t have the strength in you to keep yourself rutting on top of him.

Jungkook happened to notice the lack of reaction from you, and chuckled softly, leaning forward to press his chest against your back, lips practically ghosting over the soft skin of your ear.

“Maybe if you give me a good show, i’ll fuck you myself.”

please do not repost or translate my works on any platforms.

#bts imagines #bts smut #bts #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts oneshots #bts icons #bts angst #bts jungkook #smut #sxtaep

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

36. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

51. “What? Does that feel good?”

notes; racer/street-racing!au, dom!wonwoo, fighting(just a lil scuffle between two lads), dirty talk, degradation, name-calling, panty stuffing, blowjob/face-fucking, hair pulling, wonwoo may have a tongue piercing in this one~ WHEW 😳💕 the racer rotation of drabbles is finally done and we’re finishing with Mr Jeon himself! 😈 I’m writing this notes section post-attacca teaser of him with the face scars so I ended up tweaking the chapter a bit to include some of that instead heheh… 🥴 Also this’ll be my last post before Monster Mash S2 starts on the 19th! I’ll try to answer my inbox msgs until then and reblog some old works too! 🥳💕 As always, thank you so much for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

*queued post.

Physical altercations almost never happen at car meets - as far as you know.

But tonight, the first punch that gets thrown has everyone around you gasping as Wonwoo lands a perfect punch right into Mingyu’s left cheek at the finish line.

The cash prize completely forgotten when Mingyu had sauntered up to you and asked you for a kiss as his prize instead.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself, Mingyu!”

And Mingyu just smirks - lip bleeding slightly as he chuckles under his breath knowing he was just teasing you, and Wonwoo, just a little.

“Why? Scared your girl is gonna fall for me too? Aww, c’mon hyung, have a little more confidence, y’know? I might just---oof!”

Wonwoo lands another punch just as you cover your mouth in shock; fingers itching to pull Wonwoo back from the fight just as Mingyu makes a move to land a punch on Wonwoo’s face too.

“Hey, maybe w-we should---” You’re cut off as soon as the gasps start up again - both males gripping each other by the collar of their jackets as they get in each other’s face.

“Haven’t you had enough, Mingyu? You’ve got everyone’s attention.”

The younger male licks his bleeding lip - eyes twinkling with mischief the entire time they lock eyes.

“Let me pretty up that face of yours a ‘lil more, Wonwoo-hyung. Then we’ll call it even.”

Wonwoo grips the steering wheel hard enough for his hand to shake - face scratched up and lip bleeding as you glance over.

“W-Wonwoo, maybe we s-should pull over so I can clean up your, um, wounds… Y-your lip is b-bleeding...”

He smirks at this, shifting gears as he drives away from the car meet and further into the mountains instead.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl and get me all fixed up? Or do you want something else, hmm?”

“W-what?”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuating question - thighs clamping together harder as your hands ball up into fists in your lap out of nervousness.

“Do you think I couldn’t see the way you were watching us the entire time?”

“Wh--what do you m-mean?”

Wonwoo finds a quiet opening off to the side of the road; the trees shrouding the car from view as he turns it off and turns to face you.

“Did your panties get wet watching me and Mingyu fighting over you? Tell me, princess~ I wanna know what’s making you soak the leather of that passenger’s seat so fuckin’ bad.”

You gulp hard as your entire body buzzes with desire - half-embarrassed he could even tell at a glance and half not caring as his bruised hand crosses the middle console and places itself on your exposed thigh.

“I--I, um, it was just… You--You looked r-really hot…” Mumbling, you avoid his piercing stare as he smirks and licks the drying blood off of his lip.

“That’s all? I get into a little scuffle and it gets you this wet, princess? Hah, such a cock hungry ‘lil slut, huh?” He squeezes your thigh as you mewl; shaky breaths on your lips when he immediately starts to retract his hand.

“Well, how ‘bout you take care of me first and then I’ll return the favour, okay?”

You don’t have much space in the backseat of Wonwoo’s car and the way he fucks your face leaves you with hardly enough air in your lungs as you sputter around his cock.

Not that Wonwoo currently cares.

“Awww, you look so pretty for me, princess~ Makeup and hair all ruined for me while you choke on my cock~”

He grips you by the hair and holds you still - hips thrusting up as his cock slides into your mouth and down your throat as you try your best to relax your gag reflex.

“Fuck, you’re so good at taking all of me down your throat too~ Should I cum down your throat or should I cum in that soaked cunt of yours, hmm?”

You whimper in return, vision blurred by the tears as he holds you down onto his cock.

“Could he make you feel as good as I do, I wonder?” Wonwoo peers down at his bruised hand locked tight into your hair. “Do you think his cock is big enough to satisfy that pussy of yours?”

He pulls your head off of his cock as you sputter and gasp for air - a trail of spit and precum connecting your chapped lips to the head of his cock.

“I wanna hear an answer, princess.”

“I--I...” Your voice is hoarse as you catch your breath; the tears staining your cheeks as you moan. “N-no... only---only your c-cock is, mmh, b-big enough to s-satisfy me, Won--Wonwoo...”

“Yeah? Let me hear more and I’ll give it to you right now.”

You gulp and rub your thighs together - Wonwoo’s hand tightening it’s grip in your hair as you wince.

“P-please... I, a-ah, wanna feel you s-stretching my--my pussy with y-your cock... I’m so w-wet already... M--Mingyu c-couldn’t g-get me this w-wet...” You cry out.

And Wonwoo takes pity at the way you peer up at him - cheeks stained with smeared mascara and drying tears as your bottom lip quivers.

“Fine, get on my lap then, princess.”

He lets go of your hair and it takes you a second to find your bearings as you settle atop his lap - your skirt bunching up around your waist as his hands situate on your hips.

“I wanna try something a ‘lil different, okay?” You nod feverishly and let him guide you as he lifts you up until you’re hovering over him.

“Stay still.”

Your clench your jaw as he lifts a hand off of you hip and wraps it around his cock - guiding it until it’s positioned right at your clothed entrance.

“Now sit on my cock, princess.”

Gulping, you slowly start to lower your body down as you hold your breath feeling the head of his cock slowly start to push the soaked lace of your panties into your cunt.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of the fabric and his cock combined - unable to stop yourself from cumming when he’s fully bottomed out inside of you.

“Ngh, W--Wonwoo...!”

“What? Does that feel good?” He smirks; watching as your body shakes and convulses atop his lap as you ride out your orgasm. “So fuckin’ easy, huh, princess? Such a fuckin’ perfect cockslut for me. It doesn’t even take much to get you to cum, does it?”

Your walls flutter around his cock and only soak the panties even more as Wonwoo gives you a moment to catch your breath before he’s guiding you up and down his cock.

Loud moans spill from your lips as his hips thrust up into you; the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot with each perfectly angled thrust.

“Wonwoo... Wonwoo...” Mewling, you don’t even need him to guide you any further as you alternate from swiveling your hips to fucking yourself on his cock by raising and dropping your weight onto his lap and all he can do in return is laugh and watch as you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“Feels that fuckin’ good, huh, princess? How ‘bout you give me a kiss since I let you have what you want.”

Your bleary eyes peer into Wonwoo’s own lust-filled eyes before they flit down to his parted lips - shaky pupils eyeing the glint of silver sitting on the bed of his tongue.

Leaning in, you brace your hands on his warm chest as your lips meet his; moaning into the kiss just as his tongue licks the seam of your lips.

You part your lips for him and he wastes no second as he slides his tongue into your mouth; whimpering when the metal meets your own tongue.

He scoffs into the kiss as he feels your walls clamping down onto his cock in the midst of it all - hands sliding underneath your shirt while you melt in his lap from the overwhelming sensations.

And when you pull back to catch your breath, Wonwoo can only laugh cruelly at your, already, fucked out expression; his hands pushing your top up and over your head before he tosses it somewhere into the front seat.

“We have allllll night, princess. And I’m just getting started.”

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo fic #wonwoo

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twst-drabbles · 2 years

Text

Valenio 1

Summary: During the days when his curse doesn’t flare up, when he can properly think without being consumed by this never ending hunger, Valenio likes to sit next to you, no matter the annoyances. Doesn’t matter if people stare at him, just as long as they know his place next to you cannot be challenged.

(I said I would write my OC’s as yandere’s. I intend to keep that promise.)

The cafeteria wasn’t a place Valenio often goes to, nor does he see any need to linger more than needed. Not only was this place too far from the lab he was let out from, there’s also just too much noise for him, too many things that distract him from his own thoughts. Eating in peace was a luxury that Valenio can rarely find when in here. Especially since many of the newer, more sheltered students tend to stare at him and his climbing plates of food.

Valenio’s confidence wasn’t so brittle as to crumble under the weak, nervous whispers of gossiping students looking for a new topic to speak of. He’s made his rounds in Pomefiore before, he can handle a brutal verbal beating or two. Compared to them, all of this was child’s play. Staying away from here wasn’t a matter of pride so much as it was to protect his head.

The messy layers of noises pick at his brain, leaving him irritated. And when he finally gets to the safety of his quieter dorm, he’s left exhausted just from stewing in it.

So then, why would Valenio linger here despite all these negatives? Well, that’s because you were here, with people that think they have what it takes to be close to you, that think they deserve it. There’s a man with red hair and a heart on his face, a little beast trying to dig his claws into the other’s plate, and another man with a spade trying to sneak a fork into your food.

Really, you should be more picky with your friends. But, he won’t stop you. He also won’t stop said friends from fleeing from you with a well placed scare or two.

Valenio’s steps were naturally loud and clear, though it was lost in the cacophony of noise around him. It was only when he sat down next to you, when the seat and table shook with his height and weight did this group you were in pause.

Spade retracted his fork, Trappola had wide eyes that immediately narrowed, and Grim hid half his face with the table. He still managed to snatch a piece of cheesy bread, though not from your plate, thankfully.

Valenio’s not surprised when Trappola barked.

“Alright, who said you could sit with us?” He looked more than ready to flip the plate at him, despite the tremble in his hands.

From the side, you gave a big, well placed yawn. Immediately, whatever tension Valenio naturally brings was gone. You were not tense, which was only natural. You both know each other, after all.

You greeted Valenio with a bumping of shoulders. “What’s up, Valenio?”

Valenio couldn’t help but stare directly at your little friends, just to remind them that he was there, and force them to watch as he leaned down to your ear to whisper in a baritone voice, “I finished the catch up guide you wanted. All the basic and mandatory information should help with adjusting.”

It’s amazing to him how often people forget that you’re not from here at all, that you are missing what most would consider the most basic of basics. Trying to learn what others had grew up with in such a short time frame can’t be easy.

Valenio couldn’t help pressing up against you. There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to kiss the top of your head, but, he’ll have to make do with what he can get away with, and that’s proximity. He drank in the confused expressions on those two students faces, of both confusion and deeply hidden, probably undiscovered envy as you allowed for Valenio to touch you.

You were comfortable with him. It made Valenio’s heart soar.

You took the notebook he so carefully crafted. “Hey, thanks buddy.”

You patted his back in thanks, coaxing a chuckle right out of him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #ignihyde #valenio #valenio mara #oc #yandere #twst oc #reader insert

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?”

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?” Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,” you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

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