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#this has been on my camera roll for like two weeks
littlegaybean1 · 3 days
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So I had a dream a few weeks ago and I thought you good omens Tumblr people would want to hear about it.
What was this dream, I hear absolutely none of you cry?
Good Omens Season Three of course!
It begins with Crowley, with his hair just above the shoulders and wavy, very similar to the 2000s Crowley hair. He's in his house, wearing sunglasses and dressed in his final fifteen outfit. Somehow my dream self knew that this was a month or two after the final fifteen. Crowley is lounging in his chair, looking depressed, with a glass of wine balanced on the arm somehow.
Then, we cut to Heaven. Aziraphale is sitting at the desk that Michael is seen at in S2, with stacks of paperwork on the desk. He's smiling, but tears are pooling in his eyes. The Metatron comes over and says something that I can't remember, to which Aziraphale says "yes of course" in his polite way with a smile. He shuffles the papers and then gets up and walks away, the Metatron looking on with an expression that I can only describe as villainous.
Then, we cut to... Hastur? Who is narrating? Subconscious brain, what are you doing? He stares straight at me (which is basically like staring at the camera) and monologues, which boils down to
"Our great heroes are separated, grieving the loss of each other when neither are dead" (sarcastically)
"Well," *chuckles* "neither are dead yet."
Cut back to Crowley. He's angry, tears streaming from underneath his glasses. He throws his wine glass at the wall before collapsing on the floor. Looking up at the ceiling, he speaks to someone above, we all know who.
"Why did you go? Why'd you have to go and leave me you adorable little bastard. You left me, I needed you! I still... I still need you. Come back. Please come back." Or something similar to that. His voice breaks and he just lies there crying.
Up in Heaven, Aziraphale can't hear him but something upsets him. He buries his head in his arms, crying.
Then, back to Crowley's flat, but this time he's not alone. Hastur, Dagon, Shax and Eric burst in through the wall, grab him and drag him out of the door whilst he's screaming and cursing at them.
Cut to Hell, in the room that Beelzebub teleported Crowley to in S2. Crowley's on a black throne, but he's chained down and his head is forced into a bowed position. The four aforementioned demons stand before him, cackling. One of them holds a sword to his throat.
Cut back to Heaven, and Uriel comes over to Aziraphale and says that they've been sent a message from Hell. The message is a live video call, showing the previous scene. Aziraphale gasps, suddenly going from mildly confused to purely terrified. His eyes flood with tears and he appears paralysed, standing stock still and eyes glued to the image before him.
The demons laugh and hiss, before burying the sword in Crowley's shoulder. It glows brightly and Crowley screams in pain. A bucket is seen next to them, and I somehow know that Aziraphale is certain that it's full of holy water. Aziraphale seems to break out of his daze, stutters a bit then says, to nobody in particular
"I'll just be two ticks"
The demons are visibly confused, as is Uriel. None of them really know what to make of this. Then, still on the video, Crowley starts to shake, and is suddenly not chained. He collapses and rolls off the chair. One of the demons shove him onto his back, where we see that Crowley is... Laughing???
"Oh, we're all seriously fucked. That's his 'I'm going to pretend that everything is fine then turn into an absolute raging maniac' voice."
He then starts laughing even harder. The demons exchange worried glances. Has he gone off his rocker?
One of the demons is getting seriously pissed off by the laughing, and stabs Crowley in the other shoulder. But this time, he doesn't scream, he just keeps on laughing.
Suddenly, the room rumbles and an extremely pissed, immaculately dressed Aziraphale appears, wielding his flaming sword. His eyes are glowing the purple of Arch-Angelic power. With two strokes of his sword, Eric discorporates and the sword pointed at Crowley is knocked away. Aziraphale stands over Crowley's bleeding form and growls in the same tone as in the bookshop
"Stay back."
He waves his hand over Crowley's body, and a shield of light splits him off from everyone. Somehow my dream self knows that Aziraphale isn't only protecting Crowley from the demons, he's protecting Crowley from him. With that, Aziraphale thrusts his sword deeply into the ground, the room shaking violently and filling with pure angelic light. When it fades, Aziraphale is covered in soot and bears several burns, and is carrying Crowley through the light, up and up back to
The bookshop.
Crowley looks up at Aziraphale in a bit of a daze, and weakly says
"Did you... Stop to change before charging down to hell?"
"I wanted to be dressed appropriately! It's not every day one fights off demons in their home territory." Aziraphale sounds defensive, but also worried.
"You idiot angel." Crowley smiles at him affectionately.
"Yes, he very much is."
DUN DUN DUN!
The Metatron appears in the bookshop, an expression of fury on his face.
"I gave you power, I gave you status, I gave you a name for yourself. But still, you throw away all this for some, failed angel who couldn't even be a demon right! I won't have it!"
The Metatron snaps his fingers, white light flooding the bookshop and Crowley cries out in alarm. The husbands grip each other tightly, refusing to let even the Metatron's power separate them.
My dream ends with Hastur's laughter, as the two wake up in Heaven, still clutching each other.
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batshit-auspol · 4 months
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I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.
December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.
Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:
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The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.
At which point all hell broke loose.
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Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.
After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.
Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.
Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.
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Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.
Which was a big mistake.
Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.
Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.
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At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.
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So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.
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Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.
And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)
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gallusrostromegalus · 5 months
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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season
---
I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.
...I might need to back up a bit.
My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.
They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.
Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.
My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.
Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.
It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.
It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.
---
If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.
It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.
My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.
On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.
Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.
---
As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.
The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.
Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.
I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.
You all know this song already.
...but in case you've forgotten the tune:
youtube
Yeah.
The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.
It does not play this song at a normal volume.
Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.
Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.
...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.
---
So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.
It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.
There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.
Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.
Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.
I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.
The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.
It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.
I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.
While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.
Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.
I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.
I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.
It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.
I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.
The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.
We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.
I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.
The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.
I look down at myself.
In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:
Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.
Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.
The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.
A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.
The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.
The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.
My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.
A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.
The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.
I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:
The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.
This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.
The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.
I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.
"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"
The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.
$6.66
"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.
I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.
It also turns on the music player.
I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.
Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.
---
If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon
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eternally-racing · 3 months
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need you now | lando norris (+ oscar)
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genre: smut , maybe fluff if you squint
wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)
pairing: lando norris x reader, with a surprise appearance from #81 himself (read and find out hehehe)
warnings: female masturbation, phone sex (ish), voyeurism, dirty talk
rating: R - minors DNI
summary: calling your boyfriend Lando to complain about being horny seems to turn into so much more.
- - - - - - - -
“Landooooooo” you’re whining to your phone camera. You’re throwing a tantrum like a child and you know it, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. It’s been weeks since your boyfriend promised to visit, and after Lando was supposed to come home last weekend but got called into the factory for some last minute meetings, you’re more than a little… frustrated, to say the least. 
You know Lando can tell too. He’s cheeky enough to want to make you squirm, putting on that all knowing smile that you love so much. These conversations have become all too frequent between you two - you nestled into your sheets at home, Lando relaxing in his driver’s room during any free time he has on a race weekend. You’re even wearing one of Lando’s old shirts, and from the way that your nipples are poking through it it’s all too easy for him to tell how horny you are. 
“Lan you don’t understand, it’s like I just need to be fucked. Not a want, a NEED. and you’re not here and it’s the worst.” There are of course much bigger problems in the world, but for a girl who knows the touch of Lando Norris and hasn’t felt it in weeks, this feels like torture. 
Once you get going on the topic, you’ve set the train into motion and there’s no stopping it. Lando of course doesn’t stop you at all, what better feeling is there than your girl talking about how much she misses your dick?”  
“My poor baby” Lando says sweetly with a tinge of sarcasm that makes you roll your eyes “your fingers just aren’t enough, are they?”
Lando knows exactly what you need to hear to egg you on and he says exactly that. “I bet you’re already wet just thinking about me coming back, aren’t you Y/N? You’re thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when I finally get my hands on you again.” 
You can feel your thong getting so wet and you’re almost in such a sex craze that you’re willing to book a plane ticket to get halfway across the world to be with your boyfriend. If Lando’s going to play games, you can play them too. You lean over towards the camera, giving him a nice shot of your cleavage. “What are you planning to do to me, Lan?” 
And tell you he does. The filth Lando mentions to you is enough to make you feel like you could orgasm without even touching yourself, and small moans and whimpers seem to slip out of your mouth as you try to keep quiet about how much he’s affecting you. There’s promises made of orgasm after orgasm, and even the images in your head of Lando buried beyween your legs is enough to make you clench your thighs together in eagerness.
“Lan, I need you now” you mumble with glazed eyes, “look what you’ve done to me”. You’re about to show him the mess he’s made of your legs and take the oversized shirt off your body when Lando’s eyes go wide and he tells you to hold on for a second. And the words he says as he cuts off your actions make your jaw drop to the floor. 
“Babe, you might wanna say hi to Oscar.” 
You gasp audibly and almost drop your phone entirely. Lando turns the camera all too slightly to the left to show both him and Oscar now. The younger man is settled comfortably onto the couch next to your boyfriend, and the knowing look and slight red tinge to his cheeks tell you that he's been there for your entire conversation. Lando's eyes seem to flit between you and his teammate, trying to gauge if this was his best idea or worst idea ever.
You can barely look him in the eyes as you stumble through greeting Oscar. But it's not missed on Lando that you don't make any moves to cross your arms over your chest or cover yourself up in front of Oscar, and he keeps that information as something to talk to you about later.
“I should head off, mate, but if you ever need help with that problem… I’d be happy to lend a hand.” The Australian boy has the audacity to wink at you through the camera before he picks up his jacket to leave. The Oscar you see in front of you doesn’t resemble the shy, timid rookie you first met at the beginning of the year - you can’t imagine how much else has changed about him since then.
Who knows, maybe it would be worth it to take Oscar up on his offer.
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whoetoshaw · 8 months
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SAVING GRACE 2.0 | h. lewis
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summary: y/n and harry go on the saving grace podcast and discuss the firsts in their relationship, making the other cry, play mr and mrs and vote who’s hornier! [22k+ words.]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)
notes: someone take tumblr away from me because who the hell is writing 20k fics on here?? am i ok?? 🥴 yeah, i hope this explains the long wait. hopingggg you all love it, i tried to pack it full of things we’ve discussed on here and make it cute, and again, if it wasn’t brought up - i promise it will be brought up in other pod fics i have planned - hopefully not as long as 20k . . 🥴 anyway! like and reblog, plsss let me know what you think! what was your fav part? what didn’t you expect?! lots of love 😚 don’t forget to reblog! <333
“WELCOME BACK EVERYONE to another episode of Saving Grace where today I’ve been informed what is probably one of the most exclusive pod episodes I’ll get on this channel because getting this guest on here was like a one in a million chance according to my management—” Grace shot a look to the camera as she held a hand out to her two guests to her right, “Mr Harry Wroetoshaw and his Mrs!”
You both took that moment to smile at the camera, Harry removing his hand from his hoodie to give a small, awkward wave.
“Welcome back!”
“Thank you!”
“Please introduce yourselves for the people who may or may not know you, although I highly doubt it.”
You and Harry looked to each other, waiting for the other to do so. “I’m Y/n,” you looked to the camera, “this is Harry. You may know him from the Sidemen. W2S,” your hand hit his chest, “I’m the gold digger girlfriend.” The pair laughed at your remark, Grace recalling your last convo while Harry shook his head.
“Thank you both for being here, honestly, Cal has hyped this up so much, I’m almost nervous,” she fanned herself.
“I know, I’m surprised we’ve both got here today,” you smiled at her, and then to Harry who was still fairly quiet.
“She has all the ground rules laid down for me.”
“What?” Grace laughed.
“I said to him on the way here, I was like ‘you better not be sarcastic all the time and leave me to do all the talking.’ ‘You better not be on your phone,’” you rambled as Grace laughed next to you as she linked the situation to a parent telling their child to behave before attending a social setting.
“You make it sound like— you make it look like you had to drag me!—”
“He hates — Grace, he hates everywhere. Don’t take offence, he doesn’t wanna be anywhere,” you apologised and she laughed more.
“How— how did you get him here today? Because Freezy was stunned when I told him you told me you were both coming,” she laughed, and Harry felt bad with how awful that sounded. . . but he still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to it either. “How?! What negotiation was formed, what deal? What did she do for you? Has she promised you a fun time later or was it blackmail?”
You chuckled at her wink to you. Harry looked at you and you were the one rolling her eyes at the agreement you’d came to, “we didn’t have one, I’d convinced him to come anyway and then the boys - I dunno! It was all fine and then last night, you were texting the boys—”
“I was not.”
“You were! You literally only pitched it last night like it was a clever idea ‘cause you were talking to the boys!”
“No.”
“Okay.” You looked to the side. “There was no deal but he - literally before walking out the door, he was like ‘if I’m going on this, you have to go on Pitchside next week’. So,” you rolled your head to Grace.
“Pitchside?”
“It’s anoth - it’s his friends podcast, they watch football matches every week and,” you waved it off.
“Why do they want you there for?” She laughed.
“So they can take the piss out of me.”
Harry laughed out loud beside you because it was true.
“What the hell, that’s so random?” she laughed. “Well, glad you’re both here anyway. I’m excited to dig into our convo, do you both need a drink before we start? Y/n do you want to sort yourselves?”
“Sure, I know my way around here,” you both laughed, jumping to the back to pick a bottle of drink to mix. “Do you want Gin or Malibu or a beer or—”
“I’ll take . . yeah I'll take a beer for now,” Harry sat up as you passed him a bottle.
“Of course. We’ve got time. We’ll get to the hard stuff, don’t worry,” Grace winked to the camera as you both laughed. “How are you both? What were you doing before you came here?”
“Cleaning his dirty football boots,” you measured the amount in the glass, allowing the viewers to picture you standing over the kitchen sink scrubbing the grassy pair of yellow boots.
“As you do,” she chuckled, “what about you, you seem a booked and busy man. Day off?”
You kept quiet so Harry would actually talk.
“Yeah, yeah,” he didn’t deny, scratching his head, “I’m good, I’m–I’m impressed by the - the studio setup you know. Good Management.”
“Yeah, the boss is a bit of a wanker but he’s good at what he does,” Grace went along with a diss for Calfreezy which Harry liked and laughed at. You smiled by the bar, setting the bottle back. “He’s not in the office today so I don’t worry about any interruptions.”
“Thank God,” Harry rolled his head to his shoulder.
“Cheers guys!” Grace raised her glass as you both clinked your things, “let’s get to it! So!”
“So,” you both echoed.
“I’m starring at one of the most beloved Youtube couples — the UK’s most beloved couple it feels, and yet, you never meant for this to happen, it wasn’t intentional, was it?”
“No,” Harry agreed, keeping comfy laying in the chair with his hands in his hoodie pocket.
“We spoke last time you were here about the privacy of your relationship and how you originally wanted to keep her in the dark, correct?” She included you both.
Harry nodded.
You tried not to laugh at him. You’d have thought he was sitting in his own home with how chilled he was behaving, you almost wanted to pull him to sit up straighter. Nice to know he was comfortable.
“How have you got to this point? When did — run me through the timeline. Let’s hear your point of view,” she pointed to Harry with interlocked hands before settling them by her lips like an investigator.
He exhaled a long breath, looking at the ceiling as he thought up an answer, “so . . I . .” he looked to you, “it started not long after we were together, I was just making videos in my room and compared to now—”
“—he was just making videos in his room but for his 800,000 subscribers,” you mocked his words as he downplayed them.
“It wasn’t 800,000–”
“IT WAS!”
“EIGHT-HUNDRED THOUSAND?! WHAT?!”
“I remembered he used to say he did YouTube and I didn’t really care, I was like fair, he had about 800 which was a lot to me anyway,” you emphasized, “I thought ‘oh, he’s good at what he does’ — NO. 800K!”
“Just from being in your room?! Just before Sidemen?”
“Wellll before Sidemen he was established.”
“Wait, how long - when was Sidemen created? 2015? 16?”
“Technically 2013 but we started posting 2014.” Harry confirmed.
Grace paused, mouth dropped, and almost fell out of her seat, “WAIT — SO HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN TOGETHER?!”
You both looked to each other and laughed at her cluelessness, “we were together at the start of 2014, before the—”
“YOU'VE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE 2014?!”
“. . yeah?” Harry laughed, looking at you to see if she was joking, “nearly 10 years.”
“TEN Y—” she kept jumping in shock, “WHAT?!”
“Grace, I told you this?”
“No you fucking didn’t!” She accused, “you told me you’d got hate on his own channel before people knew you on Sidemen ‘cause he kept you secret!”
“Yeah!” You didn’t deny her, “but his channel back in 2014?! I told you I lived with him and Freezy and stuff for years!”
“Y/n there is not a chance you said this to me.”
“Doesn’t Cal make you do research?”
“YEAH. BUT YOU'RE NOT EXACTLY THE BEST TO FIND OLD INFORMATION ABOUT!” She defended, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Was 2014 really that long ago?!” She gawked.
“Yeah.”
Grace had to take a moment, her jaw still on the floor as she adjusted to the news, clearly baffled at her wrong calculations and assumptions. “I can’t believe this.”
You and Harry stayed quiet, letting her have her moment. She sat with her hand on her head. “So how old are you two now? I’m utterly baffled by this.”
“You don’t say,” you laughed.
She kept looking at you both in silence. “I was so confused at first ‘cause when I was researched I thought you were only together from 2017-18 or something? Or 2019? Like 4-5 years?”
“That's when we got back together.”
“Jesus Christ, yeah,” she facepalmed, “‘cause Freezy was like ‘no they been together since they were young’ and I was like ‘how old are they then?’ like, trying to find old vids of you together and then . . you weren’t in any videos so,” she waved her hand, “this whole thing has baffled me. I am sorry. All the fans are gonna be mad I didn’t know this sacred Sidemen information.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“I can’t believe you! You said you were getting hate before Sidemen fans found out about you and then it got wors — WAIT! So how long have you been doing YouTube?!” She accused Harry.
He shook his head, almost laughing, “since fuckin’ . . before the dinosaurs, mate, it feels like-”
“No, he literally has videos of him at like 10, singing on the internet,” you grinned, looking at him knowingly, “alo—”
“No.”
“–Salut. Sunt eu, un, haiduc—”
“Y/N.”
“–si te rog—” you sat up and snapped your fingers, singing his little iconic song he did all those years ago when he was a kid, real fans would know. He tended to join in with you most of the time after letting you take the piss but now he was just embarrassed. Oh, what a cute memory to reflect on. “—SI SUNT VOINIC, DAR SA STII NU-TI CER NIMIC, VREI SA PLECI DAR NU MA NU MA IEI—” you held your hand out to him as if you had a microphone there.
“What the ef is going on here, am I gonna get copyrighted?” Grace was out of breath, laughing at your singing, feeling like she somewhat recognised it from somewhere.
“Probably,” Harry said behind his hand, not coping with your singing still going on.
“Jesus Christ.” She facepalmed. “I-this — I can’t with this video,” she shifted in her seat, “I’m viewing you both in a different light now. You’re a married couple in my eyes, realistically. Sorry. Do continue, leave me to dwell. So . . you were — you were already popular on YouTube before Sidemen?” Grace’s head was about to explode.
“He had like over a million before we were even together a year.”
“FUCKIN HELL!” She was about to collapse. “On your own?!”
“He made the other guys,” you pointed a finger, “but you didn’t make me,” you quoted while Harry threw his head back at your cringey words.
“I can’t believe this. You — you were securing the bag!” She laughed.
“Bitch I made an investment,” you joked back, laughing louder.
“So you meant you’ve been getting hate since fuckin . .”
“Since, like, Bebo days, Grace.”
“OI REMEMBER BEBO!” Harry piped in.
“My mind is blown. I’m gonna feel like a right clown watching our video back. I’m asking questions about that next, Jesus. Anyway. Carry on! So 800k by the time you rolled around - this is mad. Maybe I should have been a footballer-youtuber back then. Maybe I should have done my research!” You laughed at that. “So she said she was in her pyjamas when she walked in on you recording?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, she literally walked in the back of the frame and that was fine, paid no mind to it, she just walked in with a cup of tea. Uploaded the video. Boom: probably my most commented video at the time. Probably the first they’d been interested in my personal life, asking ‘is that your girlfriend?’ ‘how do you know her?’ ‘that’s no your sister’ ‘who’s that in his room?’ ‘is that his bird?’ and I was fuming, I was like ‘why they not paying attention to . . the actual content?’ It was a banger vid and no one was saying anything!” He exclaimed, sharing his frustration from all those years ago that still made you laugh. “We laughed about it but I still didn’t get the whole hype about it. Obviously now, we know relationships are a big thing, everyone wants to know your personal life but I obviously didn’t get that back then - still don’t get it now, but they’re literal clout absorbers nowadays, easy views. Back then – didn’t get the infatuation,” he held his hands up, “Yeah. The people were curious.”
“Didn’t expect you to have such a hot babe.”
“Lit— LITERALLY?!” Harry jumped in his seat, “I think that was the thing! They were so surprised?!”
“Did you ever think to bring her along for them to see her? For views?”
“Mmmm – no,” he shook his head.
“Why?”
“‘Cause she had nothing to do with my channel, nothing — I was uploading Fifa videos left, right and centre, she didn’t even get that — how - I didn’t think ‘my girlfriend opens my Fifa pack’ would get me a million views.” He responded sarcastically.
“Probably would have done.”
“Looking back, yeah , it might not have done.” He agreed. “No, I didn’t think that was good content, and she wouldn't have wanted to have done it anyway, she ain’t give a shit,” he looked at you.
“Literally. Like I get Fifa now but back then, coming back from work, starving and tired, I just wanted to eat my chinese in his bed and he’d be playing a bloody game of Fifa, I was like ‘Harry . . no harm, but I am going home if you don’t turn that off in the next 5 minutes’,” you laughed, and he smiled at your honest words.
“Get that fucking game off and give me the attention I deserve deseve,” Grace spoke for all the girlfriend of a gamer.
“Literally! I wasn’t even that bad! Girls would put on their story, complaining they weren’t getting any attention but he would actually turn it off the minute I would say. Be wasn’t bad that way,” you praised him, “he could play it if he wanted, I’d be on my phone anyway or doing work but if it was late and I was tired I’d just want him to get into bed and chill.”
Grace nodded. “‘Chill’.”
“Yeah.”
“Interesting. So . . you were set on it.”
“I mean when the hate started rolling around and at a rapid pace,” he shook his head, “like I saw the way it was going and didn’t like it. Talking stupid shit, ‘his girlfriend isn’t even that good looking’ ‘who is she?’ ‘her instagram is whatever’ and then the comments were coming up on her accounts and I was just . . it was scary for me because I’m the one who was putting stuff out about me . . and they found y/n and like - knew who her parents were, knew who her sister was, trying to see what kind of person she was, was able to see what Uni she’d been thinking of going to just from stalking her comments on her friends posts, d’you know what I mean? And they were so negative, like, you know what it’s like, people are bastards. Bitchy people like — it’s the thing that made me realise that your business is your business. Who are people to say what my girlfriend does or what she looks like? I don’t give a fuck what you think, if I don’t wanna show her, I don’t wanna show her. And – and how dare they?!” Grace laughed how he hit his leg to get his point across. “Yeah. And she was so unbothered but I’d just think like . . she’s just trying to mind her own business, go about her say, post her lovely pictures on Instagram and Facebook and these people are just . .”
“—being annoying.”
“Yeah! Literally like just being fucking annoying, and I felt bad! She uploads a pretty picture and people are asking her about me or making fun of her ‘cause they think I’ll find it funny,” he shook his head, “taking the piss! So yeah, and then she’d comment back—”
“—being sarcastic,” you said in sync.
“—and they’d be fuming! Then it just kept getting worse obviously as time went on but . . yeah. I just . . I know she said it wasn’t bothering her and she didn’t care but I did. I was like how has 100 people commenting ‘you’re ugly’, ‘you’re hairs a state’, ‘your clothes are shit’ not affected you? Over and over - just pissed me off. That’s it, they just pissed me off. It was either ‘die, she’s ugly’ or ‘she’s well fit, she shouldn’t be with him’,” he laughed in the simplest terms. “So . . they could get fucked,” he took a drink.
“Wasn’t benefitting either you.”
“Yeah. Hate has fuck all effect on me but when it comes to her.”
“He didn’t play,” Grace raised a shoulder.
“He still sometimes comes into our room, phone in hand, face stuck up like ‘who’s this bastard commenting on your fuckin’ . . eyelashes or whatever,” you tried to think of something.
“HAHA! He just scrolls and inspects eveyone’s being nice to you.” She mimicked his movements, “so when Sidemen started it got worse?”
“I didn’t think hate was something that would have been around forever, I thought it would have passed, especially when Sidemen got popular? I mean if they like Harry, they’ll like me?” You shared your thought process. “But that wasn’t the case. I’d unprivate and private my account all the time and it'd always just roll in. I did get some nice people, fans of my own even but . . way more hate.”
“Why do you think people hate her so much?” Grace looked at Harry while pointing to you.
He took a big breath, thinking. “Her strong personality. I think she’s just . . she behaves like me but she’s a woman so she gets hate for it,” he shrugged.
You were both kind of taken back by his comment. And for what?
“Yeah. I think jealousy is the biggest things. In so many ways, ‘cause she’s not a bad person,” he squinted his eyes and tilted his head in thought , “I’d understand if she did whatever and it was inexcusable — like deserved the hate, but . . you’re not,” he looked at you, “I think — wasn’t it my Mum who said . . ‘they hate you ‘cause they wanna be you . . or be with you?’ Something like that, like they want what she has?” He tried to remember. “That always stuck with me. I think it’s jealousy at the end of the day, it always is.”
“Horrible disease, that.”
“I think as well like . . it turns to frustration ’cause they know it doesn’t bother her?” Harry laughed looking at you, “like she’s cheeky fucker back and plays on their interpretation so - they don’t like that she can take it. That she—”
“That she can wind them up.”
“YEAH! A wind up.”
You laughed at them.
“And then they take that for her being the kind of person. They focus on that and not the good things said and. . yeah. I get why people think she’s not a nice person but at the end of the day, we know, and that’s what matters,” he shared a look of pride on you.
“Cheers to that,” Grace raised her glass.
“I mean Id still liked to have held onto the privacy but . . shit happens. Shit happens meaning Freezy and Lux and fuckin’ . . Weller posting her no matter what I say.”
“See Freezy I can see doing it for the views.”
“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.
“So, right, you need to tell me from the start: the very start ‘cause I clearly don’t know your beginning if you’ve been together 10 years. How did you meet? How did you know each other?”
You looked to Harry, liking how he explained things, but he scoffed and encouraged you to do so, “you go.”
“So we’re both from Guernsey.”
“Yes. I know that.”
“We went to the same school.”
“Oh fuck off,” Grace facepalmed irritably again. Harry snickered at her.
“We went to the same school and . .”
“—she didn’t like me,” Harry interjected.
Grave burst out laughing, not expecting that, “HA! WHAT?!”
Now you were covering your face with your hand.
“I — he . . so he used to really annoy me in school. Like we weren’t friends but he was in my classes through the years and he just . .” It was hard to explain now because you didn’t see him that way and couldn’t remember how it felt, “he was just annoying. Like loud, attention-seeking—”
“I wasn’t attention-seeking,” he scoffed.
“You were a rowdy boy! You were attention seeking!”
He shook his head at the camera.
“He just used to be so annoying around the school, know what I mean?”
“I get it.”
“No. She just hated everybody.” He pointed his thumb at you.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No?!”
“Yes!” He mocked your voice and you hit his shoulder.
“I can see you being a Wednesday Adams, Y/n.”
“She had time for no-one.”
“No, but you were reckless, Harry, you were a class clown.”
“I WAS LIKE 17! OF COURSE I WAS!”
“Still is,” Grace muttered.
“No, let me tell the story,” Harry sat up.
“No!”
“Shut up,” he shushed you.
“Did you fancy her?” Grace cut in.
Harry faltered, and his shoulders slouched, a defeated look glancing at you.
“DID YOU?! You did!”
“He didn't,” you confirmed.
“. . yeah, I did.” He played his embarrassment off. “But!”
You were both laughing at him.
“Wait, you hated everyone?”
“Mate, she had no friends,” Harry sat so far in his seat so he could speak above you both, “she hated school ‘cause all her friends dropped out to do their GCSE’s or A-Levels or whatever it was, somewhere else, so she was on her own and she was a grump. She always kind of was like . .” he looked at you, trying to think of a word, “intimidating nature to her ‘cause she just looked at you like she was better than you, d’you know what I mean?”
“She is,” Grace shrugged.
“She is,” Harry didn’t deny, “no one went near her cause she — she just seemed unapproachable! She didn’t want to be approached! She went to school to do her work, get her grade to pass and go — she didn’t want friends.”
“I DID!”
“No you didn’t! You just wanted to do everything on your own?!” You began another argument again.
“If I was paired with people like you - then yes! I did!”
He waved you off. “She just came across unmeaningly mean. And I get it, I hated school and I had my friends! And people are annoying in school!”
“But that’s just her face,” Grace nodded.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “everyone just left her to her own thing. She — you weren’t a loner, you did talk to people and . . you were nice,” he remembered the days you chatted with teachers about something and you had them laughing about something, smiling like the suck-up you were. “You—”
“She just hated you.”
Your boyfriend closed his eyes at Grace.
“And you fancied her for it!”
“Did you fancy me?” You looked at him confusedly. You couldn’t recall him ever telling you this.
Harry looked at you, brow twitched and he smirked, “yeah?”
“YEAHHHH,” Grace big-upped his confession.
Your heart skipped the way he looked at you when saying so. “‘Course I did!” he confessed shamelessly. “I think a lot of people did but you just . . scared them.”
“So you went up to her,” Grace assumed.
“No. I did nothing. We got together after school.” Harry laughed.
Grace cackled, slapping her leg. “NOOO!”
“Yeah,” he tee-heed, embarrassed thinking back to that. “What do you mean?! I wasn’t going up to her?!”
“So you did nothing?!”
“Yeah!”
Grace laughed even harder, and Harry was almost blushing, it creeping up his neck.
“That’s so funny, that’s adorable though,” she smiled, looking between you both. You were smiling at him.
He was cute when he wanted to be.
“Yeah. I guess - yeah I fancied her. But I knew I’d never do anything about it ‘cause again, she just didn’t like anyone and I . .”
“—was scared of her?”
“—was scared of her, yeah,” Harry and her burst out laughing again.
“You just used to watch her in class, admiring from afar,” she laughed while he nodded. “I’m getting Golden Retriever, Black Cat vibes.”
“I was a Black Cat person in school. I’m more Retriever now,” you grinned, closing your eyes angelically.
“You’re Rottweiler, babe,” Harry butted in, muttering.
You’re not Golden Retriever at all. You’re a Pitbull.
You and Grace burst out laughing as he drank his drink.
“Anyway! Yeah! So didn’t vibe together in school — left school - he let school before me so year passed, whatever—”
“Did you do well in school?” She asked Harry.
“Yeah!”
“He did! That’s why I couldn’t stand him!” You interrupted, needing to share your frustration on the topic, “he used to mess about in school! Get in trouble! Class clown, all that — boom. A’s and B’s. Got the highest in our maths class , took the exam a year earlier and got the highest grade possible. Me? I studied night and day, early to every class, always prepared — no. Failed. Had to repeat. Failed again. Repeat.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Like?! How annoying is that!” You banged the armrest, amusing the host.
“I’d be pissed too. The ones who try get shit and the ones who don’t get flying colours.
“Alright, alright, give me a bit of credit here,” Harry held his hands up.
“So annoying. But yeah, he’s actually really smart - when it comes to numbers, especially.”
“Really?”
Harry shrugged.
“Yeah, he is. He’s very clever with numbers,” you praised him, looking him over as he looked at you. “Languages too. Geography.”
Kinda hot.
“I feel like those are typical talents of lads though.”
You agreed. “Yeah, actually. I mean I’m okay at Geography—”
“No you’re fucking not, do not even lie,” Harry shook his head immediately at you.
“YEAH I AM?!”
“No you’re not?! Are you being serious right now?!”
“Harry! Yes—”
“No you’re not, don’t even lie, Y/n,” he threw his head back amusedly, stunned by you. He couldn’t count the arguments you had in the car when it came to giving each other directions.
“I a— shut up, anyway! I saw him outside school like a year later, it was the start of the year and I was technically done with school, I just needed to go in on exam days ‘cause like three of my teachers were on maternity leave and we had all our notes - anyway-” you waved your hand, “basically, saw him out with his Mum and he just acknowledged me and we waved at the other and then I smiled at him and I just—” it just happened. Something just happened that day.
“—someone shows you a nice interaction and you fall in love? Same babe. Me too—”
“Shut up!” You laughed, cheeks going red at how it sounded that way, “yeah! I saw him outside school and just saw him differently. Then he ended up texting me the day later and I ended up at his house to do something and then we just . . started kicking it. Texted and found out the same interests and—”
“—went to his house and shagged?!”
“No!” You tutted, “it was to do with my job at the time, like I could fix something for him - very weird, very cringe,”
“She was a plumber,” Harry sniggered, and you laughed loudly at that because it would seem so. Grace too.
“You were a plumber?!”
“No! It was electrics! Like Wi-Fi! Shut up the both of you!” You laughed, “anyway, got talking, texted, found common ground,”
“—saw each other on a night out.” Harry added, the night he would never forget.
“Saw the other on a night out and after that I think was when we realised - or when I realised how much I actually liked him, like we got on so well and he was just . . me. And then talking again and going out I realised I proper fancied him; realised how funny he was which was a big thing for me - humor is my thing like I don’t give a fuck what you look like, I will find you instantly attractive if you make me laugh, and then yeah. Started going out and . . here we are.”
“Where was your first date?”
“We went to - what did we do for our first date? We went out a lot, like clubbing but I think our first proper date was ice skatin’ or—”
“Ice skating?” She questioned.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah — and she was really fucking good!” Harry fumed, thinking back to that day he was like Bambi on ice, “I struggled! I st—”
“I wasn’t the best, I was shaky at the start but I was better than you,” you agreed, smiling adoringly at the fond memory.
You’d both tried holding each other up, legs wobbling, forcing yourselves to get close and to hold on to each other, shouting the other’s name in panic when you thought you were gonna fall. But then you’d got the hang of it, always needing around 20 minutes to get your balance of things before you could skate freely. Harry was slow in getting there, and so he clung to to you for support, deathly grip on your hand, and you’d kept pushing his chin up from his feet to look ahead of him. But he always sabotaged your steadiness, weighing more and standing taller, one wrong move sent you both to the ground, giving you no other choice but to laugh when you hit the ice.
It was entirely wholesome, funny - and you didn’t need to dress up too much: Harry still had butterflies going straight to his stomach at the sight of you in fresh hoodie, black leggings and thick socks. And other places.
“Then we went to that restaurant, it was our first proper dinner date,” he added. “I picked you up and we went to — weren’t it pizza? It was like proper italian—”
“Oh yeah! Yeah it was. It was quality for Guernsey. I know we don’t have much over there but that was a shout. I was impressed.”
“She mentioned she liked a thin-based pizza and I remembered,” Harry raised his brows like he was the boyfriend of the year.
You almost shook your head amusingly at him, “I don’t even remember telling you that but you’re right.”
“Was it ever awkward? Or was all the tension broken?”
Harry shrugged. “No, it was long gone.”
“Long gone by the second date?!”
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to her properly.”
“Pizza is a good shout, it’s neat too, not like you could have ribs or something—”
“She got ribs on our third date.”
“DID YOU?!”
“Yeah,” you nodded embarrassingly.
“Ate them like a rapid dog.”
“No you didn’t y/n,” Grace refused to believe the thought of you going ham on a rack of ribs, spreading BBQ sauce up to your cheekbones in front of a boy.
“Hey, he kept coming back!” You defended.
“I was . . jealous of the ribs,” he thought up, smiling when you laughed. “Yeah. Mauled them.”
“Made you horny, didn’t it?”
“I’d never been so turned on in all my life,” he went along with her joke.
“He knew you were a keeper.”
“He did.”
“That’s cute though, a nice dinner together and drinks after I assume?”
“Yeah! We talked the ears of each other though, anyone else would have probably walked away,” you both agreed, “we just kept making the other laugh. And then he’d text me like the minute I got home.”
“NOW—”
“Harry you did! You jumped straight into our next plans.”
“No I didn’t?!” He did his awkward laugh when you were telling the truth about him.
“Did he text you more?”
“—no.”
“Yes. Definitely,” you responded, “we texted all the time, planning the next time - he would try and squeeze in any time he could to see me - he’d be like ‘want me to come get you from work?’, ‘wanna run this errand with me?’ ‘want to go here for an hour?’”
“HA! ‘Want to come to the shop with me, get a pint of milk for me mum’,” Grace mocked his voice and you laughed. “LITERALLY!”
“Is it a sin I wanted to see you?” He defended.
“No he definitely texted more than I did - I didn’t want to annoy him I think - come across as . . clingy or desperate or whatever. But yeah we text all the time. We’re always texting each other! I don’t know what the fuck we talk about!” You pulled a confused look, “we live together? How — why?—”
“I don’t know either.” Harry rubbed his eye.
“Alright, we’ll Im glad I have some backstory to the roots, so now we’re gonna play my favourite game,” Grace reached for the pair of paddles under her chair and handed two each to you, one purple, one yellow. “Mr and Mrs. Basically, it’s a who’s more likely to, you raise your paddle for whoever you think is the right answer for the question — who wants to be what colour?”
“I’ll be yellow,” you waved it in your hand.
“And it was alllll, yellow,” Harry set his drink down to hold them. “This will be fun.”
“You ready?”
You both nodded.
“First one! Who,” she looked at her phone, “is messier?”
You both raised purple.
“Just because she likes things spotless, I’m technically messier,” Harry used air quotes. “I’m not that bad.”
“He’s a hoarder.”
“So are you?”
“No, but I have a home for everything.”
“So do I?”
“No you don’t, you just stack things on drawers and your desk and call it a place and then there’s no roo—”
“No I don’t?!”
“You do, literally look at your old bookcase back hom— look at old videos in our old apartment. Grace, between him and Freezy, we didn’t have a living room ‘cause of their shit.”
“That was a bit of a disaster.”
“Horrific.”
“Who’s more photogenic?”
You both raised yellow, but you debated purple, “he always goes look good in photos but he never looks at the camera when I tell him to pose—”
“I DO! I DO!”
“You literally — Grace, honestly, the photos I have on my phone, with the most beautiful backdrop and my hair is sitting nice and my outfit — he doesn’t look at the camera!”
“I look at you! To see what you’re doing!” He defended, laughing, because it was so true. You got fed up all the time over his side profile making the cut, because every photo he watched you and the way you fixed yourself, smiling, entertained, because was there ever any need? You were always picture ready, perfect the way you were. A subtle moment to admire before it got shown off to others. Besides, who were you trying to impress?! He was standing right next to you!
Grace smiled at her next question, “who’s more romantic?”
You both looked to each other before raising the purple paddle.
“Really?! I didn’t expect that!”
“I like to impress her.”
“He likes to impress me, yeah,” you grinned. “Yeah. He’s very thoughtful,” you looked him up and down, “plans things. Gift things.”
“Do you get her flowers?”
Harry nodded nonchalantly.
Course he did.
“Yeah I usually have a vase filled with a pretty bouquet.”
“Must be nice.”
“Only recently though, since living on our own.”
“Yeah, not when rooming with the guys, they’d just kill them or break the vase,” you promised. “I’m funny about my flowers.”
“How so?”
“She only likes certain colours and types - doesn’t like roses,” Harry sighed with a weirded look.
“HUH?!”
“Only pink or white ones.” Harry added.
“Red roses are tacky,” you scratched your nose like a snob, “I mean they’re still gorgeous but . . not my favourite colour. I like a wild bouquet, with soft tones, no bright reds or oranges.”
“—or yellows or dark purples.” Harry shared his knowledge on the subject.
“Jesus. You know all too well!”
“I’d need to!”
“He’d better!” You laughed. “Yeah, gets me flowers, plans unexpected dates, little gifts, nights away, candles in the bath — all that, you know,” you winked as she laughed.
“Do you?!”
“He loves a bath.”
“Love a bath.” He agreed.
“Dying at the thought of you both soaking up in the tub,” she grinned, scrolling to the next one, “who said I love you first?”
You both looked at each other instantly, smiling knowingly and pointed at each other at the same time.
“NO!”
“No you did.”
“YOU did!”
“Y/n, no,” he shook his head.
“You know fine rightly who said it first and the circumstances,” you stared him on as he dropped his head.
“What were the circumstances?” Grace asked dreadfully.
“No, y/n,” Harry covered his face the paddle at the memory.
“He,” you began to laugh, jabbing your thumb at him, “he did. He did. We were over at his and like . . sitting in his room and it . . slipped out.”
He looked at you, and you looked at him, daring you to add further.
“In an attempt to get something, if you know what I mean,” you looked back at Grace.
“Harryyy,” she dragged, sounding disappointed.
“You’re wrong,” he accused, “I did say that to get that too! But that wasn’t the first time.”
“—impatient fucker,” you mouthed to her with your thumb jabbed his way.
“I’m not lying!”
“Well then you explain when it was because that’s what I remember.”
“I’m not saying that didn't happen,” he looked at you, “but I’m pretty sure it was when you were leaving me to go on holiday and we were in the car.”
The moment he said that, it made sense, and you were pretty sure what you had just explained was technically the first time trying to say it casually. “Oh my God!”
“YEAH! You see! My memory is better than yours about this stuff! I remember everything!” He ranted, jabbing his finger into his knee to validate his point.
“Ok, you explain it. I remember now. ‘Cause I thought the car was when you asked me to be your girlfriend?”
“That was in the car too.”
“Oh. Ok.” Why was your memory so foggy? Clearly you had too many memories to pick from. “Right, go on,” let’s hear this story you want to tell for the sole reason just to get a laugh in.
“So, I remember we’d been together for a good while. Probably 6-7 weeks or so. Spent every day together. Just seeing each other as much as we could,” he began, “and then you were going on holiday for 2 weeks — which would have been our longest time apart,” he looked at you to confirm.
“Yes.”
“And the night you were leaving, I took you out just a drive, just to see you a couple hours before your flight.”
“Yep.”
“And I remember on the way home, taking you back, I–I was thinking of what I was gonna say to you going home . . ‘cause I thought of her being away and I was like . . i’m gonna miss her, I’m actually gonna miss her—”
“Oh thanks!”
Why was that so surprising?!
“And like, if anything happened while she was gone—”
“If the plane crashed or something,” Grace nodded.
“Yeah! Literally! I was going over my head what I could say, like ‘have a safe flight’ . . or ‘be safe’, ‘have a good time’ like I dunno! And then I was worrying -she was going away with her parents-” he added, “-and I was still freaking out if she was going to be looked after?” He looked to the camera because yeah, he was that big an idiot, stressing himself for no reason, “and I was just like Harry man, why you getting so worked up for? She’s going – it’s not like it’s a fuckin . . girls holiday, getting off her tits, like— she’s not gonna get spiked, she’s not gonna get kidnapped, and then I started getting nervous, thinking — ‘what if she meets someone over there?’, ‘are we well-established enough?’ ‘is she going to cheat on me?’” You could tell just from the look in your eyes that you were amused hearing him speak. “And then I was getting annoyed ‘cause I was thinking . . what if some holiday prick goes after her and likes her? What if she meets someone and likes them better? And then there’s me who’s been waiting for her to come back? And I was just getting pissed at her going away . . and then I just realised—”
“Realised ohhhhhhh, I — I actually love her! A whole lot, actually!” Grace pieced it together.
“Literally. Didn’t want anything to happen to her, didn’t want anyone hitting on her, didn’t want her to go ‘cause I’d miss her, thinking about what i’d do if she just dropped me,” he laughed, realised how weird it might sound. “Yeah. I’d be really upse – I’d get really annoyed over it.”
You watched with soft eyes, not expecting the heartfelt rant to come from his mouth as he told you something you’d never heard before; from his point of view. You watched mesmerised, eyes likely sparkling, heart now a puddle.
“I just realised how much . . I . liked her before she went away?—” he coyly laughed the obvious.
“—wanted her to be safe.”
“Yeah! For her to be alright! And I'd . . y’know, miss her.” He finally looked at you again, “it was the longest 2 weeks of my life!” You both laughed. “Sitting, waiting about for her to get back, convinced she was probably gonna leave me for some geezer in the same hotel!”
You rolled your eyes at that whilst Grace laughed, knowing something like that was coming. “Of course.”
“Yeah. So I told you,” he jabbed your arm, “in the car before you went, and that was when I gave you that stupid stuffed animal.”
“OH MY GOD! You’re right!” You gawked, finally piecing where your firstborn came from. “‘Cause I brought him with me!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my. You’re so right, I forgot about that.”
“Yeah!” He retorted, the memory now fresh in his mind with the reminder.
“How did you ask her to be your girlfriend? Or was it never an established thing—”
“You see, th-that’s the vibe I was going for,” Harry placed his hand on himself, “I wanted to try and do it in a casual manner because I didn’t think it needed to be properly established, because you already were - or were acting - you were my girlfriend.” He defended his reasoning before even explaining it. “In my head.”
“It backfired on him.”
“How?!”
“‘Cause!—”
“Because I . . right, so,” the Youtuber sat up in his chair with his bottle still in hand, getting into his younger self’s mind. “Basically, I . . I don’t know if - I did something for you, or I got something for you, like . . I dunno, paid for dinner or got flowers or something. Something nice. Then you said something about, like,” he looked at you for help, “you said something about getting spoiled or like, special treatment – you said it was a nice change being treated like a princess or something and me not being a dick all the time–”
“–being nice to me for once,” you smirked, vividly remembering the story he was telling. He was always nice to you, you were just talking ass ‘cause he’d gone an hour without being sarcastic to you.
“Something like that. And then I said, thinking this was the smoothest way to do it,” he shrugged a shoulder cockily with closed eyes, sarcastically smirking like some big shot to represent the confidence he had, “‘well you’re my girlfriend’ or something like that! Something like ‘well you’re my girlfriend, are you not?’ Then she turns around and goes — ‘I don’t remember you asking’.” He looked at the camera with his jaw dropped.
Grace was laughing and so were you, realising how bitchy it was if people didn’t know the circumstances.
Yeah! That’s what he was dealing with!
“I was trying to be funny! I was being cocky for once ‘cause he was being cocky about it!”
“I tried to play it smooth!”
“You were being too,” you didn’t know what movement you were doing with your hands but it looked like you were signalling Twinkle Twinkle, “bold.”
“BOLD?!”
“I wanted it to be causal but then you did it in a jokey way and I was like ‘. . mmm no’, I wanted you to be all soft! I wanted to see you nervous to ask!” You defended.
Harry looked at you baffled, never knowing what to expect from you.
“You got the ick from him asking you to be his girl.”
“That was it though! He wasn’t asking and I wanted to put him back on his toes!”
He shook his head. “Anyway, so after that I was like . . well now I don’t wanna do it her way, I wanna like — I’ll blackmail her into being my girlfriend!” he hit his armchair upon speaking his egotistical younger self’s mind, “I wanted to be petty back and not do it her way! So she was away for a weekend or something and I was thinking about it all weekend, wondering if I should just ask her normally when she got back. But then she came back and I picked her up from her house,” he looked at you, smirking a little as he wondered if you remembered, “and she came out and I had flowers, and she came over was all ‘oh, pretty flowers’ and I pulled them back behind me,” he mimicked his actions just as they’d happened when you reunited with him outside your house at night, about to give him a kiss when he withdrew, “and I was like . .” he laughed because it kind of was like blackmail, ‘will you be my girlfriend?’”
“—raising his brow all cocky!” You remembered his stubborn face upon trying to hide a smile whilst not allowing you them.
“And then she said yeah. And I gave her the flowers. Gave her a kiss.”
Grace clapped, “now stop it! That’s actually cute, though!”
“It was cute at the time, ‘cause he — it’s exactly how I imagined him to do it, he’d ask but it’d be like — ‘be my girlfriend or else—”
“—or else i’m throwing this chair at your wall!”
“Yeah! ‘Or I’m uploading this ugly photo of you!’”
Harry chuckled at himself, amused.
You knew him so well. Back then and now.
“That’s such a cute way. We got so sidetracked there, sorry,” she read her phone for the next question, “who's lazier?”
Both your heads snapped to each other at the word and knowing smiles grew, before Harry looked back and answered. “That word is banned in our household.”
“WHY?!” Grace burst out laughing.
“Because . . . so when I used to have my normal 9 to 5 and Harry obviously just made videos, I would come home and complain - it was basically a complaining match about who was more tired. And my argument was that I, y’know, I had to get up, get ready, in my uniform, I went into my office, my place of work, had to get up early to get the tube and all that and y’know, do the work part! Do my job! And then his argument was that he worked too but I used to dismiss his ‘cause he was just making videos with his friends and there was no real work in it—”
“—I got what she was saying but she would make it out that I couldn’t be tired and that I didn’t work, even though I could have been—”
“—NO! It’s not th— I—”
“YES! YES!”
“NO! I’m saying— let me speak!” You shoved his hand off annoyingly pulling at your sweatshirt, “I—”
“She basically saying she was a harder worker and I didn’t deserve ro say I was tir—”
“I— long story short,” you covered his mouth with a stretched out hand, “we used to bicker all the time, I—”
“—who called who lazy first?” Harry interrupted, peeling your hand off.
“ICalledYouLazyFirst but it was becaus – I said he was lazier ‘cause all he had to do was go over to his mates house and literally mess about and hang out with them for making a video. Which like . . you can’t blame me for back then. Now I wouldn’t call you lazy. You obviously do much more.” You looked at him understandingly, which he gave you. “Basically we used to take the piss. I’d call him lazy ‘cause I’d get home from my ‘regular’ and he’d just take it bad and be all ‘I’vE bEEn uP fRoM 7 o’cLoCK tOO, I hAd tO tRAvEL aLL tHE wAY tO tHis pLACe, I hAD tO dO tHIS fOR tHE cHalleNge viDeO, i hAd tO eDiT 6 HoUrS oF fOotAge, i HAd a fLigHt aT this Time. YOu jUST siT aT aN oFFiCe aLL dAY’ and basically explain how he was allowed to feel tired. But yeah, we’re basically not allowed to call each other lazy. We’re not allowed to critique the other’s work ethic.”
“We both work hard in our job’s circumstances,” Harry nodded.
“Yeah. . . but he also could never do my job,” you got the last word in before changing the subject.
“She’s lazier.” He held up yellow.
“No.”
“Who’s better driver?”
You both held up yellow.
“I don’t drive.”
“You don’t?”
“He has his license he just doesn’t drive. Doesn’t have a car. I drive.”
“Are you passenger princess?”
“I am thee proud passenger princes,” Harry said with no shame.
“His driving is actually whack, like I love being a passenger princess but sometimes when he does drive us around, I’m on edge, Grace.”
She laughed, “are you a reckless driver?!”
“I mean I try not to be,” he laughed nervously, scratching his head. “I drive us around Guernsey, most of the time.”
“That’s fair.”
“Sometimes.” You corrected.
“Most of the time,” he stated.
“Hm.”
“You’re not even the best driver! My driving makes yours look good!” He began to accuse, pointing your paddle in your chest.
“Anything’s better than your fucking driving! I’ve never hit someone!” You defended.
“Mate, do— you literally have the worst road rage, and you’ve got speeding ti—”
“Oh shut up, I’m not having this argument with you of all people,” you scoffed, leaning your head on your hand. He got road rage and he wasn’t even the one driving half the time!
Grace looked to the camera as you both bickered, hiding behind her cue card.
“—we literally had the same driving instructor so you’re lying out your arse.”
“Well you clearly bought him off or something ‘cause—” you put your hand to your head, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, we had the same instructor – he’s the reason I began driving.”
“Are you!”
“Yeah, I made her do it,” he looked you up and down.
It was true. You’d never wanted to learn to drive, too anxious, but after taking you out plenty of times in his car, showing you what to do and teaching you himself - Harry had texted his old instructor with your phone under your number, and you’d had no choices but to do the lessons after he’d showed up to do the organised sessions. You did hate him for it but you were grateful in the end.
Besides, he may or may not have contributed to your first car and reduced you to tears. Also, he’d gotten you the cutest little package of gifts when you’d passed your test: your favourite being the little personalised keychain of you both that you still had to this day. He had always been a very thoughtful boy to you.
But he was still a dick at times. “Yeah, got sick of driving her everywhere.”
You shook your head to yourself. “You’re a dick.”
“Who’s better at saving money?”
You let out the loudest laugh and threw up yellow. Harry fought to roll his eyes and held it up also.
“We’ll not talk about the money he takes out in bets and casinos or I will be sick,” you said with disbelief. Harry just sighed and relaxed, knowing he wasn’t beating you on this.
“Makin’ him sound like he’s got a gambling addiction,” Grace laughed.
“He doesn’t, like I’m talking when he goes to Vegas or something and he tells me what he won of what he lost.”
“Do you tell her if you lose?!”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
That surprised Grace for some reason, feeling like most lads would keep that from their girlfriends.
“It’s not even like it’s our money, it’s his money but he’ll tell me and then—”
“And then she’ll tell my Mum.”
“NO.”
“YES, don’t lie,” he was prepared for this argument.
“No listen! I gave him a lecture the last time he lost a load and he was like ‘i know, i know’ but I knew – it was still eating the insides of me so—”
“We were arguing -not arguing- being petty when we were over in Guernsey and winding each other up in front of my parents and I said something and she said something and then I said something and she went ‘well at least I’m smart enough not to bet 6 grand’ or something—”
Grace’s hand covered her mouth, “oh my days.”
“—then my Mum gave me a lecture and I just — she knew what she was doing—”
“You deserved another one,” you shrugged. But hearing it come from you both just proved to others how sensible a girl you were. Like yeah it was his money but you still opened your mouth to tell him how fucking thick he was. Knock some sense into him when he needed it.
You just wanted to keep him humble. It was his money but you weren’t golds let him be stupid with it. “I’m not that bad. I do like to treat myself but I never over-do it. Need to channel my inner Elizabeth James every now and again,” you thought of one of your favourite movie characters.
“Who starts arguments the most?”
It was another situation we’re both of you hesitated to choose a colour. You weren’t an argumentative couple in all seriousness. “We don’t argue.”
“No, we actually don’t,” you agreed with him.
“Now come on.” The blonde shot.
“I’m serious! We honestly don’t.”
“We literally never fight.” Harry looked at you.
You and Harry had genuinely only ever been malicious towards one another in your whole relationship and it was upon your break up. You were never hurtful to the other, or said anything to wind them up in a way that would wholeheartedly hurt them. “We bicker a lot but we don’t argue.”
“What’s the difference?” Grace squinted her eyes.
“Seriously! Bickering, as in funny, unserious way - that's all the time. We bicker over everything, everything’s always a joke. But we genuinely don’t argue.”
“We get along.” Harry stated. As simple a statement it was and laughable because duh, you were in a relationship - it summed up in terms of how you understood the other well enough to know what did strike a nerve and how similar you were that you'd both react the same way. You were a couple always on the same page. A team. You liked each other.
“I don’t know what we would argue over,” you looked at him cluelessly, “like we get annoyed at each other but never angry.”
“Same difference again.”
“No but it's not!” You laughed, “I’m not talking winding each other up ‘cause that just doesn’t count, that's obviously playful,” you squinted your eyes, “I’m talking like . . I might get annoyed at him when he’s in a mood and being cheeky, or ignores something I’ve told him not to do. I’ll get annoyed, but I don’t go off screaming, shouting at him to get a grip, like . . It never comes to that.”
“No yeah, I get you, I get you.”
“We genuinely don’t fight that way but I'd say like . . petty arguments, her.” He held up the yellow paddle. “But it’s probably because I’ve done something stupid anyway and forgot to do something or have done something.”
“Nice! Sounds about right,” Grace grinned. “So who will apologise first then?”
You both contemplated and then held up purple simultaneously. “Nice!”
“We both apologise, we’re grown when it comes to that,” you rolled your eyes, knowing many times you had to do it yourself. “We’re not afraid to apologise to the other if we know who’s in the wrong.”
Sometimes teasing went too far, sometimes someone played too roughly, sometimes a nerve was struck, sometimes somebody wasn’t in the mood to joke and the other saw that as a challenge. You fully expected the muffled i’m sorry in your ear when he’d creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your front. “But usually him.”
“Cause of the last word,” Grace joked.
“Exactly! He may get the last word, but he’ll apologise for it afterward,” you laughed with her, seeing Harry shake his head at you.
He knew he was an utter suck up.
“Who gets the last word in the argument?”
You both looked anticipatedly at the other, knowing there was a right answer.
Harry held up purple, and you were happy, copying it.
“REALLY?!”
“If he didn’t, it would go on forever. And I would kill us both.” You deadpanned. “He is the most petty person I know.”
Harry was tee–heeing like a girl into his hand because it was true, feeling bad. But he was.
He was a petty king.
“Like . . when he’s arguing in your favour — it’s the best. I love it when he argues over me,” you smirked like a psycho over your protective man, “he will win. You do not want to argue with him, but in the rare occasion, oh my God, that he isn’t on your side and he’s against you? Oh my God. Grace,” you slowly threw your head back with your eyes closed, Harry trying not to laugh next to you, “I have literally had to stop myself from whacking a frying pan over his head sooo many times,” you pinched your fingers and thumbs. “He will just not shut up. He goes on and on and on a—”
“But it’s like—”
“No,” you shushed him, “he has this mindset of ‘i’m right, you’re wrong’ and that’s it. He will just refuse to see it in any other sense. It’s so childish. It could be over thee pettiest thing and he will fight to the death proving his point. Ignorant,” you looked at him.
He shrugged his shoulder looking back at you. “Deal with it.”
You looked him up and down, chilling in his comfy fit like he didn’t cause you grey hairs. “He gets the last word ‘cause I allow him to have the last word.”
Harry shook his head, crossing a leg over the other knowing it was false.
“Who has the worst attitude?”
You both raised opposite colours.
“Nah—”
“It’s literally you, you know it is.”
“No, d’you know what she said to me one time? I said to her — ‘you have an attitude problem’, d’you know what she says back? ‘No, you just have a problem with my attitude.’” Harry’s mouth hung open as he repeated that monstrosity. “Do you see what I mean?!”
“Woowww,” she dragged. “. . I’ll be using that one.”
“It’s actually Harry but whatever,” you muttered, inspecting your nails.
“Who’s hornier?”
You both sprung up yellow.
“WOAH!”
“It’s literally not up for debate,” Harry looked down, dropping his hand.
“It can be a little bit,” you tilted your head at him. “He can be when he gets in like . .”
“Shut up, shut up—”
“—a jealous mood,” you spilled, avoiding his gaze ‘cause you knew he’d hate you talking about this. “What?! You do!”
“But yes or no, you’re horny literally every second of the day?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your answer,” he tried to wrap the question up.
“Yes, but you can be wors—”
“Y/n it’s you, end of,” he laughed, his hand on his head. “I could literally –literally– do with a restraining order against you at times.”
Grace laughed so loudly at his comment, not even surprised to hear such thing. She fully expected you to be just that.
“I am hornier overall, but he does have his moments when he goes in an anno—”
Harry swinging the yellow paddle in the air stole the attention as Grace took it as his plea to move to the next question.
“Fine. Yeah, true. Ok. Yeah. Christmas makes me horny, yeah.” You gave up.
“Who’s punching?”
You both held up opposites.
“I am.”
“No I am.”
Grace scoffed, “stop being nice to the other.”
“The world knows full well I'm punching,” Harry rolled his eyes at you. “I get it everyday on the internet, stop talking shit,” he pulled your paddle down with a laugh.
“I get it too! You are better looking than me!”
“Y/n,” his head hit the headrest as he looked at you with those twinkling eyes to get you to shut up. “Y/n.”
“Harry,” you laughed, not changing your answer.
“Who’s noisier?”
Harry had already raised yellow without an explanation and you looked confusedly between him and the camera and Grace. “Wha— alright,” you copied, “I mean, what context we talking here?” ‘Cause he definitely had a loud mouth at times.
“You know what context,” Grace winked.
“If we’re talking video games,” Harry whipped up the purple paddle.
“I would say you’re louder in everything you do but—”
“—nah, nah, nah, don’t you start lyin’, now,” he tutted patronisingly, “there is no debate here, y/n.”
You looked at him, and he looked at you, smiles growing in sync as he expected you to argue but also not daring you to say more. “Right. Fine.”
If he says so.
“Who's the funniest?”
You reached for purple straight away while Harry debated. “I mean I don’t want to say myself but you are actually funny,” he told her. “Like I don’t laugh at a lot of things but she does say shit that’s . . that I do laugh at.”
That made your heart burst with pride, you felt warm knowing you were one of the ones who made him laugh wholeheartedly, even if it was ‘cause of your stupidity. “Yeah. She is actually jokes.”
“Thanks.” You looked at him with his perhaps subtle sarcasm.
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t look at you, too busy twirling the prop in his hand.
You lowered your choice of paddle - the obvious answer. “I say him, obviously. I laugh every day, I don’t—” what else did you say? “He’s funny without trying.”
“Well so are you.”
“No, but you,” you looked at him, “you’re funnier. But then again, I laugh at everything. I laugh at things you say people might find cheeky.”
“Give me an example,” Grace quizzed.
You looked at her baffled. How were you supposed to think of a certain situation that stuck out when he was funny? Of course your mind went blank. “I dunno! Like,” your mind wandered, “I dunno, just the way he comes off with things. He can be so sarcastic - a few weeks ago when we were on holiday -this isn’t even funny- I got bit? By a bug? You know, like lots of little bites - anyway! I had one on my leg and I was like ‘am I bit in here?’ and he was like ‘yeah’ and I was like . . ‘are you not gonna go get me some cream?’ and he went,” you laughed, because now it didn’t sound funny and just lame, “‘you were bit by a fly, not a fucking shark, go down and get it yourself’ but it’s the way he says it! Like the tone of his voice and sitting on the bed makes me—”
“I get you, I get you! Some might think he’s a cheeky bastard.” She smiled amused.
“I mean, he is that as well,” you teased, playfully tugging his earlobe.
“When she’s not in the mood, everything is automatically 10 times funnier.” He held in a laugh looking at you. “You have - you have some one liners.”
His latest example would have been when you were both jet-lagged after that holiday and struggling to go to sleep, you more agitated even before he’d refused to unpack his case. He’d pitched a wild idea that you hadn’t found funny and in a mumbly, sleepy, passive-aggressive tone, you’d responded into your pillow, “you’d be sooner sniffing a line off my crack before doing that.”
“I think a lot of what we say could be taken the wrong way by others but to each other, we always take it the right way.”
“Who’s more affectionate?”
You both contemplated, raising yellow, then purple, then yellow. Harry responded similarly.
“We’re both really affectionate people.” Harry uttered.
“Yeah, like when it’s just the two of us. He is sooo affectionate,” you looked at your boyfriend who pulled a face like you were exaggerating it a bit - but you really weren’t. Nobody would see the days he wrapped himself around you in bed or on the sofa at any given moment, falling asleep in a matter of seconds when you’d be scrolling through emails.
They didn’t see how he took those little frenzy’s of constantly kissing your cheek when he felt like he hadn’t seen you, kissing you hard and passive-aggressively.
They didn’t see how cuddly he became when he was tired, ill or hungover, his favourite thing ever to do to drop himself on top of you like he was the size of a lap dog and guide your hand to his hair or his back for you to stroke and tickle.
They missed how he always had an arm around you at a dinner table, how he’d always kiss your shoulder if it was exposed in an outfit or have you sit on his lap rather than have you take up a seat of your own in given situations.
They wouldn’t see the way he behaved on holiday when he wrapped you around him in the pool, let his hands wander when you could be waiting in line at a bar, or even the way he’d subconsciously massage your foot whilst talking with you, sitting at the bottom of your bed where you kicked up your legs. “You are a clinger—”
“Mate you’re the clinger—”
“You’re the clinger.”
“Who gets chatted up the most?”
You both raised yellow.
“Harry doesn’t get the chance to get chatted up because he doesn’t make eye contact.” You laughed.
“I hate talking to people in the club, Jeus Christ,” he rubbed his head, especially in terms to chat him when he had you. As if he didn’t feel awkward as it is. “She always gets chatted up. She gets chatted up in front of my face.”
“HA! What?! How?!”
“They think i’m lying when I tell them I’m with him,” you nodded, knowing it sounded crazy rude.
“When we go on holiday? Oh my days,” he companions, “that’s the worst. Oh my God! D’you know when you be chilling at night, sitting at your table, having a drink or whatever watching the people on the stage? The people dancing? They-they always pull her up!” He complained as you laughed, hearing him speak this burden outloud for the first time. “She always always gets pulled up to dance with them and they spin her around, give her roses and shit.”
“It does happen a lot.”
“Lots of flirty men abroad,” he stuck his nose up, thinking jack to your last holiday when you were plucked in the midst of a conversation and shared a look as you were forced to dance for everyone. “She’s actually a good dancer which makes it worse.”
“Who’s the grumpiest?”
You both raised opposite colours.
“You’re grumpier than me.”
“I’m literally never grumpy, what are you talking about.”
“Talk shit.”
“Alright and last one — who drinks the most?”
You stuck up purple while he hesitated, but you both knew the answer. “I say Harry. We both get equally as plastered but logically I’m saying you ‘cause you’re bodyweight and height and—”
“Are you calling me fat?—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” If you had a pound every time you heard those words, you’d have been your own millionaire.
“Well that was a fun little game! I hope you two enjoyed that.”
“That was fun, yeah,” you handed the paddles back over, happy to have answered a hundred more questions.
“I liked finding out the firsts questions, they’re always my fav,” she replied, taking them from you. “It’s always fun to look back and cringe at how you used to behave at the start, innit?”
“Yeaaah.”
“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.
“It’s like shit, I have to act a certain way in front of these new people for a while before I can fully be myself,” she shared the struggle. “Have to prove to the mother-in-law I’m a nice girl,” she tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Literally!”
“Yeah but you're like that with his family, no?” she crossed her two fingers thinking back to your last time here. “What about you? Did you have to work for the approval of her family?”
“Uhhhh . . yeah,” Harry considered. “Yeah. I mean at the start I went to every family event and stuff,” he shrugged, recalling the days he’d agree to accompany you to your Aunt’s wedding, or to celebrate your cousin’s 25th with all the family over a weekend. When you told him that your Mum had asked if he was coming or not, he’d take it as the hint that they expected him to be there, so he did, and they adored him.
Unbelievably funny and not too shy to speak to them, considering they were like you, they were very easy to get along with. Most of the time he was drinking in their company, and so didn’t feel so embarrassed telling them a story your Mum or Dad would encourage him to share. You knew he secretly dreaded them, he still does, but even back then you remembered the pride in your chest when watching him interact naturally with them, explaining to your older cousins how YouTube worked as a career or telling your Uncles about the part of London he was moving to. You remembered your Aunties messing you about and telling him how much of a charmer he was (they knew fine rightly he was a little shit putting on a show) but gave the approval when he’d responded the way he had: ‘well, I mustn’t be that bad if she’s decided to give scraps like me a chance’, he gave his nervous laugh, fingers creeping around your hip as you stood beside each other outside in the grassy garden, looking down at you after as if to see that was a good reply.
And then, of course, years went on and there was no longer polite drinking in front of the father-in-law but getting straight up pissed with him at the bar after his daughter already drank her weight, having their heart-to-heart about how special she was.
“He did, actually yeah. Yeah, he used to force himself to go,” you looked at him pleasingly, remembering him grunting and getting on when he wrecked his wardrobe trying to find something matched to your dress code.
“Are you close with her family?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he laughed at her reaction, “why’s that surprising?”
“I dunno! ‘Cause she was talking about getting on with your brother and sister, I just didn’t know if . .” she shrugged. “You have a sister, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you fight her?” She looked at Harry.
“Sophie’s a fucking savage,” he had to laugh, giving away his answer. “She’s ruthless but in a different way from her. They’re so alike but so different.”
“He is the only person she’ll say the most brutal shit to—”
“NO LITERALLY! Literally!” He agreed, “she—”
“—she acts like she hates him but she really doesn’t.” You added. “She just thinks he’s the most annoying— he’s like an older brother, he literally is. He winds her up miles away and like - literally will beat her up.”
“She’s a havoc,” Harry defended.
“They do love each other,” you muttered to Grace with a nod of your head.
“She just needs put in a headlock every now and again to put her right.”
“She’ll fight you over this,” you scratched your nose.
“I’ll – I’ll be ready.”
“What about your Dad? What’s the situation there? Was he tough to please?”
“HIM AND MY DAD ARE BEST MATES?!” You jolted your thumb at him, “since the beginning! You'd think my dad took pity of him or something! He was always so chill—”
Harry kept his mouth shut.
Yeah, because your Dad knew what he was in for.
“Actually?!”
“I love her Dad, man. We always got along.”
“My dad is a wind up too, so he thinks his jokes are so clever. My dad is just so simil– they just - they get on the same, talk the same stuff. They talked about football since the beginning and now it’s like . . I dunno. I dunno! They’d go to the pub together on a sunny day. Go to football matches, sneak off and talk shit about everyone, probably a— probably about me! And my mum!”
“What’d you want me to do?!”
“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re talking about?”
“I’m actually dead, that’s so funny, man.” Grace dabbed her eye. “I mean he’s known you for so long, I’d like to think you have some common ground.”
“Yeah. No, they love him. My Mum loves you too.”
“I got drunk with her Mum over a bottle of wine, she had to come down and get us to bed at like 3 o’clock in the morning,” he laughed into his hand as he realised how weird that sounded.
“What?! Just the two of you?!” Grace laughed.
“Yeah! They went to bed around 12, we stayed up just talking shit! Just talking absolute shit,” he laughed, thinking back to sitting at your kitchen table on that Saturday night, setting the world right with your mother.
“My Mum was iffy on him at the start.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, she tried to keep up apart when I said I was moving to London,” a smirk took Harry’s face as he recalled that time period, “tried to split us up.”
“Romeo and Juliet,” you winked. “Yeah, she actually did. She went through a period of not letting me out to see him. I used to be crying, almost! I didn’t think she was serious!”
Oh how you remembered the days when you blamed a Zoella video had made you cry rather than your Mum when Harry would laugh at you for getting upset over your Mum trying to banish you apart.
“She never would have kept me inside, I was hardly ever grounded! I had a lot of freewill as a kid, but when he said he was moving, I think she thought she’d try to distance us before he went? So it wasn’t as bad or whatever, so we’d just call it quits — ‘cause she was not for having me going to London with him, it wasn’t in the equation. But then . .”
“Used to have to call and see you in the dark, sneak around,” Harry laughed at the fond memory.
“Seriously? And she didn’t know?”
“I think she did know but she couldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t shout at me for being with him but she did get annoyed ‘cause she knew . . her plan wasn’t working.”
“She was coming with me anyway, so,” Harry stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and flipped the camera with his two fingers.
“No but we love each other’s fam a lot. I can go over and just plant myself down on the sofa without a word or he could come over to mine and just start nicking stuff from my fridge, y’know. They know we’re good to each other and so is our family, so.”
“That's cute that your families like each other as well.”
“Oh yeah, our mums— our mums just shit on us when they see each other.”
“They do.” You knew they’d be bitching about you both drinking too much on holiday or the amount of clothes you had and were still buying more - typical mum stuff.
“My brother and her sister get on too. Well,” he paused, “I mean they’re the same age. They were in the same year in school like we were.”
“But Sophie doesn’t like him either, so,” you waved, revealing a not-so-surprising fact. Who did Sophie like?
“Oh?” Grace looked interestingly.
“Yeah, they always bump into each other on nights out,” Harry laughed, thinking of the times Josh would tell him about his late night activities and how going up to Sophie to talk to her would quickly lead into her shoving him away from her ‘cause he’d quickly turn the convo annoying.
“Oh. Cute,” she raised her brows. “I love that. Keep the tradition going, the L/N girls hating the Lewis boys.”
“It kind of is . .” you perked a brow, realising.
“So your friends are getting married soon. What does a wedding look like for you two? As in attending as a couple? Or any event like that? ‘Cause I imagine you to be in two different — like I can see you singing and dancing and owning the dance floor, and I can see you just watching from the table,” she laughed, pointing to you and then to him.
“That’s literally how it goes down. She sings all the songs to me from across the floor and I just sit and nod along — she knows every single fucking song in the world. I swear to God. Like she knows every movie as well, she’s seen them all.”
“If I get him drunk enough, I can get him on the dance floor with me,” you told. Nights singing and dancing with your Martini in hand, belting the words to your classic 80s hits they played at every wedding ever, Harry would watch with the softest look in his eye, seeing sing along to Whitney Houston or a track from Dirty Dancing — he had to laugh and shake his head when you’d point to him and serenade the cliché lyrics to him. If he usually was in his I don’t give a fuck mood after a couple pints, he didn’t run away when you’d take his hand and drag him to the dance floor with him, seeing that smile get brighter on your face as you’d jam together. “He should know the drill by now, shoulda known since that first festival we went to—” you recalled the first time Harry looked at you like you were insane for literally having made people move out of your way so you could dance freely, stomping on the ground without banging on top of someone’s foot.
“Oh yeah! You guys love a festival?! How-since when?”
“We’ve always loved going out and,” you shrugged, “same love for that kind of music. Getting drunk in crowds of people. Having to queue an hour for a toilet.”
“Killer.”
“Do you have any particular songs of artists you associate with your relationship? I associate a bit of Cardi B with Billy and I,” she winked at the camera.
“Of course you do,” you laughed at her, trying to think. “I love a concert, but we have our differences there for our preference in some music. I mean and argument breaks out in the car 9 times out of 10 if he puts on an artist he knows I won’t like, like it will actually put me in a bad mood if he puts on some shitty, cheap sounding Soundcloud rapper—”
“—she just called my music taste cheap.”
“Literally pisses me off. And he knows,” you shot him a look, sitting in his chair with his hands in his pocket, biting his tongue, smiling at you ‘cause he knew it was the quickest and funniest way to get you riled up.
And ultimately, unleash the road rage.
“And everyone on the road gets it taken it out on them,” Grace assumed, shaking her head at the pair of you.
“I get to watch you shout at other people that isn’t me! I’m going to love it?!” He defended excitedly.
“I mean most songs from 2014-15 always remind me of the start of our relationship. That’s just my favourite era of music I think in general,” you confessed, “I feel like any One Direction song transports me into our first apartment, or like . . Rita Ora or old Rihanna. Bruno Mars. Or Calvin Harris and David Guetta . Although - Coldplay always reminds me of our relationship, they always had songs on the radio and in those old Youtube videos - even on Fifa. When I saw they were coming out with tickets, I had to get us some.”
“WITH THE WRISTBANDS?!”
“YEAH!”
“No! They look magical on my TikTok.”
“I didn’t think he was gonna go,” you looked to Harry, smiling sopily at him, remembering how when you’d told him you’d gotten you both them he'd first told you to go with Faith instead or something, not knowing if it was worth the ticket, but then gradually getting him to agree to go, he’d found it one of the most wholesome nights of his life, for the both of you.
And you were right - it did take him back, hearing particular songs that brought him back to your early days in London, figuring this things out together, hearing their songs play on the radio and feature in the latest Fifa coming out.
Plus, a romance lyric was always gonna make him think of you, whoever sang it. He empathised with songs a lot more than he used to these last few years, found understanding in them.
He knew why you tended to sing a lot of lyrics to him. He’d only began doing the same.
He could call your music shit all he wanted — he’d sang ‘Kiss me’ with you at your last festival after calling it shit when you played it in the car, and who had the video to prove he liked it? Mr Freezy, who’d captured the wholesome moment between you both, tipsily sways with your arms around each other’s waist.
“They are legends.”
“Tell me you don’t think of 2014 when you hear A Sky Full of Stars?!”
“No, I can’t. You’re right,” Grace nodded.
“It was pretty sick. The wristbands were cool, too.” Harry admitted, liking how they were in replacement for phone flashlights.
“It was probably one of the best concerts I’ve been to. All concerts I’ve been to has been great, and I love going with friends. Coldplay was different though.”
“So you usually go to concerts with friends?”
“Yeah. It’s like the cinema - he never goes to the cinema so the cinema is a date with the girls,” you declared. “Faith, Frey, Freezy’s girl, Talia.”
“I mean your friend group is very tied together, boys and gals, it’s probably nice to get away from each other as a whole from time to time.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” You agreed. “The boys can have their nights out, we can have ours.”
“How do you feel about that? ‘Cause I still feel . . . I don’t know. I mean the idea of my boyfriend going out — if my boyfriend were to go away for a lad’s holiday for a week?!” She exclaimed, not even wanting to think of such nightmare.
“We let - we don’t care about that,” Harry laughed, pointing between you both. He found it incredibly funny how couples got into arguments about that all the time. It was something either you batted an eye over. “I spend a week with the boys, I come running home like ‘Y/n! Y/n! You’ll not believe what I’m about to tell you! Wait ‘til you hear!’” He mimicked him bursting through the door with his suitcase, usually a bit of sun evident on his face and hat to cover his god-awful, messed up mop. “I FaceTime her every night anyway! I -she’s the first person I tell!”
“No honestly, the second we step foot home, it is always the biggest gossip sesh - as you’d expect!” You defended, “it’s the funniest thing ever, getting to show your photos and tell the stories behind them - it is complete bants.” You almost wiped away a tear just thinking of the past stories you’d told him when your group of friends were ler lose for your annual girl’s trip.
“So you don’t get anxiety at all at the thought of your other half . . running around, shitfaced with other people trying to lay it on them?”
It was quiet, the two of you looking at Grace like you were supposed to have a particular answer. “. . no”
“Why? Why would I?” Harry awkwardly laughed.
“Like . . in terms of cheating?” You assumed, “no? I mean I’m worried if he were to badly hurt himself or get thrown into something, stupid shit like that. If I thought for one second he would cheat on me, I wouldn’t be sitting here with him now, are you joking?!” You scoffed. “People who are worried about letting their man or girl go on holiday with their mates because they know within themselves they would even think of cheating on them — you shouldn’t be with them. For real, what are you doing?”
“Yeah, I’ve never understood that.” Harry agreed, reaching for his drink.
“No but don’t you even get a little bit anxious? Like, what if their mates egg them on?”
“Our mates aren’t like that,” you both laughed, feeling stupid or something for not getting the question. “He literally sends me selfies of him on the strip in Vegas ‘going to find the sexiest stripper ever to cheat on you with tn’,” you’d send her the picture to pop up on the screen from a few months ago.
“No I couldn’t, I’d take that to heart. What if his friends actually encouraged that?”
“We wouldn’t be friends with them if they— are – Grace, are you okay? What relationship trauma have you got?” You reached to jokingly rub her arm while she laughed, realising how you both just didn’t relate to the subject at all.
“No,” she played along, putting her head in her hand. “I just want what you two have.”
You laughed, grabbing her glass, “you will! You do! With Billy!”
“No, I know. I’m joking,” she sipped her drink. “I love that for you though.”
“That’s a question I will never understand, I don’t know, I-I-I think that’s wild, that that's a real thing. I get worried and annoyed about people maybe annoying her trying to get with her and touching her - but not like . . about her replicating. That’s why I can joke about it ‘cause I know she’ll get to joke back about it when it’s his turn.” Except my jealousy actually does go through the roof.
“Right, moving on! I saw you posted a throwback on your story this morning of you during Lockdown saying how different you looked and I need to know - or I’m assuming anyway, that you were one of the couples that survived Lockdown, because lots of couples who were together for years split during this time so I’m curious to hear. Did you or didn’t you?”
“Yeah we did. We were only just back together when Lockdown happened.”
“And you chose to quarantine together?!”
“Yeah, he asked me to.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. I regretted it.”
You scoffed and hit his arm pathetically.
“No, yeah I did.”
“‘Cause you thought she would change her mind about getting back together?”
“Kind of, yeah. More so just . . missing her.” Getting to spend every day, every minute with you after not having you for approaching 2 years was a God send. “And being able to shag.”
Grace laughed loudly at that.
“I think that’s why so many couples did quarantine together, being honest,” you claimed, “and then realised like . . they’re getting more headaches than . . ”
“Head.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah that’s why I regretted it.”
“Harry,” you scoffed again.
He was only joking . . sort of.
“So you quarantined in your apartment?”
“We quarantined in my parent’s house in Guernsey.”
“No!” Grace gasped, “and you were shagging?!”
“We weren’t really shagging,” he almost rolled his eyes. Sort of. He didn’t need his parents to know that info!
You sure as hell weren’t shagging half as much as you’d liked! “We actually coped really well,” he looked at you to confirm.
“We did. It felt like we got another chance to relive . . the start of our relationship again? ‘Cause I’d always be in his house and we’d just sit up in his room and he’d film and — it was so nostalgic sitting in that bedroom again. It was so weird, but yeah, we loved it.”
“Did either of you catch Covid?”
“He caught covid and tried to get me to— tried to infect me!”
“Did you?!” She laughed.
“No listen—”
“When restrictions lifted and you were first allowed to see other people, I went to my family’s house for a night and he told me he caught it!”
“The second she leaves, I caught it, what’s that about,” he complained.
“He tried to get me to come over to his apartment in Guernsey ’cause he obviously wasn’t going to stay in the house and I was like ‘no! no way’ as much as I woulda wanted to—”
“Fake love.”
“And when he came back to the house he still had symptoms? So his Mum made him stay in his room for another while,” you laughed thinking back to it, “and I stayed with Rosie, and he hated it, he was so bad—”
“‘Cause I was done isolating the two weeks and then I come back and she gets me to do it again and!—”
“I would walk past the stairs and he’d be at the top, nodding for me to come up to his room anyway.”
“It was the most frustrating thing ever, I wasn’t even allowed in the kitchen.”
“Nah that is annoying,” she agreed, “but you isolated together anyway! And it worked out!”
You nodded. Guernsey was your safe place after all, the place you’d found each other and gotten together, it was your little island to act freely together on. Maybe that’s why the relationship flourished so well, ‘cause it’d grown from the roots once again.
“I did touch a bit about your split with you the last time so I don’t think we need to dig too deep, but I am interested to hear if you have anything to say” Grace reached for her bottle of Malibu to top up, glancing at Harry, “i’ll get you another beer if you spill.”
He only closed his eyes, hands tucked away in his pocket.
“I’m just curious because I heard y/n’s side of things which I imagine to be very different from yours because you didn’t stop being on camera when all this was going on and you – I’m assuming you didn’t neglect your socials or anything so I mean . . how did you cope when the relationship status started getting some attention? Did you guys ever announce your split?”
“Did I ever announce our split? Are you taking the piss?” He laughed, looking at her with big eyes. He knew the fanbase had really opened their arms to you in recent years and allowed you the confidence to post without being attacked so much anymore — but he still didn’t owe them anything. His relationship was his business.
“What?! Not even when you got back together?!” She was actually quite surprised to hear this!
“NO!”
“No?”
“No!”
“Huh . . fair enough!”
You laughed at their interaction.
“Did you even acknowledge it in videos? Did you not like . . even poke fun at it?”
Harry slightly cringed and you could tell by how he closed one eye, pulling a face in though, “I mean . . the boys definitely used to try, majority of the time I wouldn’t let it pass, I’d–I’d take it wrong and be sour about it . . but there are definitely few jabs in a video or two, I’m sure, yeah. Nothing personal, just like . . regular ex slander. Probably getting bigheaded for a second and . . yeah.”
“Yeah, those clips get put in edits of me,” you sassily twirled your hair around your finger, acting big headed at the thought of them sneakily slandering you in a video before transitioning into the hottest 15 second edit of yourself.
“Don’t even get me started on the edits.” Grace held a hand up. “So can we actually hear of how you two rekindled? You don’t have to give major details but how did you actually reconnect?”
“He texted me.”
“I texted her.”
“Oh!”
“Yeah, I just texted her. I saw her beforehand . . in a shop or . . and I ran home . . and it was Freezy who said like, just text her and say you saw her, or something.”
“And you did?”
“Yeah, I-I mean . . something in me knew it was a good time to maybe try and reach out or whatever, ‘cause I had times when I wanted to before but I knew I-I wouldn’t – I knew it wouldn’t work.”
“Had you always planned on rekindling?”
“Uhh, I definitely wanted to see her again after that, yeah. I never planned on our last conversation being that last conversation, I wanted to – yeah, I wanted to see her again when we were both . . in good spirits and . . wouldn’t be triggered by seeing each other,” he smiled awkwardly.
“Did you think you’d get back together or did you not get your hopes up?”
“Oh I was on a mission.”
You burst out laughing at that, covering your mouth with your hand as he grinned at your reaction. “No, I-I had my hopes up already like, the second she replied to me. I think I knew I just wasn’t . . I didn’t text her . . to just be her friend. I didn’t text her so I could just be in her life again.” He voiced sneakily.
“But he tried to tell me he wanted to be friends.”
“I did. But you knew I was lying. I knew I was lying.”
“So you always planned on getting her back?” Grace smirked.
“I just wanted her to like me again,” he laughed, “I-I— yeah. I guess so. I just knew that was the end goal. Meeting new people and going back to old habits like — I was so over that, man. I knew that wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t even that I wanted a relationship, I wanted our relationship, our dynamic. It doesn’t hit the same when you’re so used to something else. Even my train of thought wasn’t the same, like . . not saying I was horrific! I like to think I gave my everything and I did my best at being the best for others but it’s like . . this yapping in my head going ‘i don’t wanna do this’, ‘I don’t even wanna do that’, I-I never wanted to do anything out of the genuineness of my heart, things felt like a chore.” He knew it was bad when he had to force himself to plan a nice date when he would have much rather have done something with the boys. “And I’m sorry to say,” he looked to the camera as if these people would be watching, “but like . . I’ve never felt that with her. I’ve never felt obligated to do something for her ‘cause I know I probably should as-as her boyfriend - it’s all natural. ‘Cause I want to, and I think that’s how it should be when you’re with . . the person you're supposed to be with, I think that’s how you know you’re with someone you’re supposed to be with,” he rambled.
“Yeah!”
“And it’s weird man, it’s scary ‘cause like . . you can do all these things, things you enjoy, that make you happy and with someone who you might like and . . it’s just not . . you might not feel fully content. It might never be as fulfilling as what you’ve had before and you just have to accept that which is like . . how is that fair? I hated that shit. I kept comparing and it’s an awful thing to do but my subconscious - I was never enjoying it the way I wanted to,” he paused. “I had this whole crisis over a dream I got married and had kids and was a depressed fucker ‘cause it wasn’t her,” he suddenly side-tracked as he pointed at you, “she was famous on TV for some reason and I realised what a shitty life I was having.”
Grace laughed alongside you who slightly facepalmed because you’d heard of these dreams a hundred times. “What?”
“No, I used to have dreams of her marrying someone and having kids and I’d run into them and just— mate. I would wake up in the worst mood, have anxiety in my chest—”
“HAA! Shut up!” The host hit her chair, finding a relatableness in this underlying jealousy.
“Was the worst, man, but yeah. Longest year of my life.”
“It honestly felt like 5 years looking back on it, I think I get a bit embarrassed when I remember it was only 2 years.”
“It was a year and a half.”
“Ok, a y—”
“It was actually under a year and a half,” he raised his brows, looking at his nails.
“Ok well it felt much longer at the time.”
“Did you cry a lot?”
You looked at her unimpressed. “Are you serious?”
You all laughed at that, struggling to sip your drink, “did you ever cry?”
That question sparked your interest as you looked to your side, watching an awkward smile grow on Harry's face when getting asked such question. He shook his head.
“Now not even once?” Grace didn’t believe him. You didn’t know if you did either, but I mean . . not even once? “Is big W2S not an emotional man?”
“I am, I am, I can be very like — I would be when I’m with my friends and especially when I’m drunk but—” he felt put on the spot . . and this felt so personal and it was going online.
But he looked to his left and saw your face eyeing him up and down for any indication of an answer, the smile on your lips nervous despite not knowing what answer you wanted to hear. “Go on, you did, didn’t ya?” She teased.
“I-I probably cried . . I cried once.”
“No you didn’t,” you threw your head back annoyingly.
But he did. Harry remembered that day in Guernsey when his whole family had gone out and he’d been left alone in his room where he had that pathetic, frustrated cry, hating himself. Even though nobody was home, he still didn’t make a sound, remembering that feeling of hot tears soaking into his lashes as he kept his eyes closed. “I’d like to think I’d cried. I dunno, I can’t remember,” he tried to play it off, “I think I did,” he rubbed his eyelid.
He remembered it well because the next day he’d come downstairs and his Mum had shouted at him, seeing his eyes were red and and she’d assumed he’d smoked drugs while they were out.
And he apologised! Going with it because he wasn’t telling her he’d really cried!
You saw through his facade of embarrassingly covering it up, telling you clearly that what he’d said was true. And viewers would see that little change of expression in your eyes if they watched closely enough, seeing the equivalent of your heart melting like butter.
“No I got drunk and . . other things,” he looked at the camera, breaking you from your daydream as you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah I would cry when . . I would wake up in the middle of the night . . and take a big fat swig of my drink at 3AM ‘cause my mouth turns to a desert — because you weren’t there to shout at me for drinking so loud.” He laughed at you, at the accuracy, and you laughed back at him.
“Have you ever made her cry? ‘Cause my boyfriend makes me cry,” she lowered her head, trying to be serious when really she was holding back a cackle. Your laughter slipped out past your lips and she copied, breaking. Harry looked lost between you both. “No! ‘Cause Billy -he doesn’t actually make me cry- but he makes me want to cry with frustration when he winds me up so bad? Like . . you know when you’re maybe on your period and they try to have a joke and you just aren’t having it on? Or even playing too rough like I can only be RKO’d so many time?”
“No yeah, I get you. I don’t really cry—”
“Y/n, you turned 25 and became an emotional—” Harry didn’t give you the chance.
“Oh?!” Grace laughed at that sudden attack, seeing you freeze with your mouth open.
“You have! You have!” Harry didn't mean it in a bad way, it was simply true. He reached his hand over and squeezed just above your wrist to assure you not to take it badly, but that he was stating a simple fact. “You do, y/n, you cry over spilled milk at times.”
“No I don’t?!”
“You cry over movies and news articles and old photos - I watched you cry over a TikTok of a dog reuniting with her stolen puppies the other day.”
“‘CAUSE IT WAS SAD?!”
“It was happy?! How is that sad?!”
“‘Cause they were taken from her!” Why did you feel a tear wanting to come out at the reminder of that video? But also why were you laughing at him bringing that up?
“See that’s me when I'm on my period.”
“That’s her in general now! She turned into a big pool of butter in the last 2-3 years and-” he shrugged, knowing he was right.
“Are you calling me a snowflake?” You fired, that even Grace jumped because that tone went against what he’d just said.
“Yeah.” He said uneffected.
“Well I don’t cry — I don’t cry when you — actually, you did make me cry the other day,” you bit your finger.
Harry looked at you oddly, having absolutely no recollection of that statement. He literally never made you cry so what were you about to come off with.
“Like there were tears in my eyes.”
“What are you on about?”
“In the kitchen?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“I was winding him up for once,” you already began snickering, “we were in the kitchen and he was just not in the mood. I was— I’ve done this before and just never learned, I did it with a tea towel and it ended the same way. I,” you laughed again. “So he came in, moody already, and I was making something, I was in an upbeat mood, bit hyper, baking the goods—”
“She’s in a silly goofy mood,” Grace already defended your case next to you.
“Yeah! So, he comes in, I see the face: immediately start to wind him up. He’s trying to make tea or something, I dunno, and I hit him with the wooden spoon - not even hard! But on his arse—I mean he jumped.”
“Ooo, crack to the backside.”
“LITERALLY!”
“—and he grabbed the spoon and was like, ‘don’t go there’ and I just get that rush - bearing in mind, he’s smiling the tiniest bit—”
“That’s a green light if I ever saw one! Lets get ready to ruuuuummmmbleeeeeee.”
“Thank you! So . . I do the same, smacked his arse, he goes,” you snickered again.
“—it was a whack! I was annoyed as it is! An—”
“He grabbed my arm, he goes, ‘i’m gonna hurt you if you do that again.’ I was like,” you rubbed your hands together, showing how you were getting a kick out of being the one doing the winding up. “I was clearing up in the kitchen, his back is turned to me, boiling a pot of water— I hit him one sneaky slap and go to sprint— no. He yanked me by my arm and slapped - I mean slapped my ass — you do not understand the sound of this heavy hand, connecting with my cheek. I – Grace, the hand mark on my cheek–” Grace was laughing with at your face, how you brought your hand to your mouth to represent the shock, “you’re laughing. I cried. The tears in my eyes—”
Harry had a little guilt to him as he heard the story back but still smiled because you were in that state of trying to laugh because it was funny, realistically - you’d deserved it, but it had stolen your breath away.
Plus, he knew by the end of the night, he’d took back what he did and lay opposite you, rubbing your poor, tender cheek whilst babbling the sappiest of lines in a baby voice for you to eat up. Yeah, over his dead body was Grace or anyone else hearing that.
“It branded my ass, but yeah. I did cry.”
“What did you do?!”
“I looked at him with tears clouding my vision in shock! It hurt!” But it was funny.
“. . my hand stung to be fair—”
“They play too rough sometimes,” Grace waved her finger at him while looking to the camera, “I get it, I’m telling you. Billy whipped me with the tea towel the other day and—”
“Painful.”
“Yeah! And what arse have I got to protect me? To brace me? Nothin’!”
“I get it! Getting whipped is like—”
“‘Av you ever got whipped with a belt?”
It was silent as she sprung her random question on you, getting sidetracked. You looked at her oddly, but then raised your brows as you realised. “Have actually - but not how you think! Do you remember this? It’s—it’s one of those things of . . d’you know when you get up to random shit in your house?”
“It was one of those conversations of ‘how much would you take to do this?’” Harry tried to help explain. Grace was baffled by what you two clearly got up to in your spare time, what you considered fun, and was laughing with her drink in her mouth.
Harry smiled, “I-I’ve got whipped before! I’ve got whipped before in so many Sidemen videos, I already knew what it was like!”
“Right! Context! Please!”
“I remember exactly when this was, it was when I was packing? The night before Gr—remember? I was packing our case? It was a long day. Bored and tired, sorting our stuff, rooms a mess, stomping over piles of clothes — I find a belt.” You began to explain. “I started doing that thing, d’you know when you fold it over and pull and it makes that smacking sound?”
“Yes!”
“I said to him ‘how much would for me to smack your arse with this?’, he said he’d already got belt to the arse before by the boys; he had to do it for a video, so he said, ‘how much for me to whack you with the belt?’ And he said it wasn’t that sore, and I kind of made it a competition in my head of who could take it better? So I said ‘£70’.”
“Best 70 quid ever,” Harry tried to hold back his cackle as he thought of the event and how it was one of his favorite memories because of the outcome. Rubbing his hands, he recreated his excitement upon telling you to bend over and seeing your unphased expression in the mirror.
Tell you what — it wasn’t unphased a moment later.
“Grace, the next day, not even 12 hours later, I am walking about this sizzling country in my bikini, strutting about the pool with this big fucking belt mark on my ass for everyone and their family to see.”
“FUCK OFF!”
“Everyone’s taking the piss, I can’t even explain ‘cause they’ll just think you’re lying anyway?!”
“Jesus, was it bad?”
“It wasn’t the worst pain like, it kind of just steals your breath,” your brow twitched. It wasn’t . . horrible . . “kind of get an adrenaline rush after it.”
“Kind of get a kick from it, ay? I’ll have to um . . tellBillyaboutthat—” she coughed, “no but I get that, when you get your own place it’s like you do these things - you come off with these ideas - actually, speaking of — how long were you together before you moved out? Because Cal was making fun of me for saying I would move with Billy 5 months into dating him. Is that weird?”
“Nah mate I get that,” Harry agreed, “I would never - I think you have to give it a year before doing that,” he couldn’t imagine moving in with someone so soon. “I mean we moved to London not even a year but—”
“OH HERE WE GO! MR BIASED HERE!—”
“No but I get it—”
“BUT YOU GUYS ARE DIFFERENT, YEAH, OK—”
“I think it’s crazy too, some people move in that soon, but I mean if you know, you know,” you laughed, “I don’t know how we did that – I don’t know how we pulled that off,” you looked at him, “but if you feel it’s right, go for it.”
“It’s just better having your own place together, isn’t it, you get to do whatever you want,” she started.
“Yeah, of course. Your house, your rules. Do whatever shit you want, no consequences.”
“Yeah! You get to make all little personal memories like, yeah, I really want to,” she told you, feeling like she’d gotten encouragement. “I can’t imagine living with your parents still and like . . then hearing if you do have a disagreement or even just spoiling your fun?!”
“Yeah, that probably would have been our issue,” you chuckled, “like being loud, leaving a mess—”
“Hearing you get whipped by a belt—”
“Ye– yeah! Literally! Breaking stuff— me and Harry broke our new dining table a week after getting it ‘cause we were riding a bike indoors, not even drunk, and broke the corner off — we had to deal with it but there were no telling off from parents,” you reasoned.
“You rode a bike inside your apartment?”
“Yeah.” You didn’t need to add further.
“It is better having your own place, I could have never stayed with my parents — I love staying with my parents but when you have someone and like . . yeah, you don’t want - a house can feel very small,” Harry gave his input. “When you get your own house with someone, you’ll never go back to that, honestly.”
“Yeah, I get it, you make it your own. You get to do your own weird shit! Billy and I rented a little cabin the other week and we were just whacking each other with wooden spoons in the kitchen, d’you know what I mean? Testing the good ‘ole pain tolerance.”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah, I really want to. It just the privacy, innit? Not even for sex but even just . . being weird.” She laughed, “like being couple-y with like . . no one to walk in on you.”
You got that completely. Was it relevant to bring up how you and Harry had tested your pain tolerance when you’d bit his nose when laying across from each other in bed, laughing ‘cause it tickled in a way and also that his tolerance was better?
No. He’d maybe want that to stay quiet.
“Anyway! So I have a few questions for you I got sent through before we wrap this up, from my lovely followers,” she held a hand out to the camera. “A few may or may not have come from the boss so if you could just answer them,” she coughed. “What nicknames slash pet names you got for each other?”
You both hesitated.
This was a set up from Freezy. It had to be.
“My girl.”
“My— my big boy.”
The two of you laughed awkwardly between it ‘cause . . I mean come on. “I’ve always called him that, I’m pretty sure there’s a birthday post on my instagram from 2014 of me saying ‘my big boy’,” you half-giggled, rubbing your eye. It slipped out. “S’just . . what I call him. My big boy,” you mimicked patting the back of a baby rested on your shoulder, when really, it was what you did to Harry when he came home after a day’s work, tired with a sore head from all the lighting, he’d throw himself down on top of you for you to baby whilst also catching up on Love Island. Scratching and tickling his back, peering over his shoulder as his scent would fill your nose.
But also — in another sense. Wanting your big boy to come over and throw himself down on you alright.
Harrys wasn’t unique either, but how he said it was what melted your insides. Always said with excitement and pride, empathy and comfort. You didn’t have to say your name to know who his ‘girl’ was.
“Sometimes George. Harry George. But that’s mostly for a warning or in disbelief or somethin’,” you itched your nose. Rarely he just got George, maybe when he was in a daydream and not responding to any name you’d say it. But hearing his middle name made Harry nervous, because it either meant something really good or something really bad was coming from you. He always kinda just . . froze at the top of the stairs.
“Pet peeve about one another?”
“I hate the amount of times he puts his fucking hand in his fucking pants,” you looked over to see if his hand was tucked beneath the waistband, “he is the worst for that, you know the way guys do that?”
“Oh my God,” he already grumbled from his chair, surprised he hadn’t expected that answer.
“I don’t care if it’s comforting or whatever, every time I look over at him, he’ll could be sitting on the sofa with his hand on his fuckin’—”
“No ‘cause its like—”
“I don’t need a demonstration! I’m just saying.”
“I don’t get it either. I imagine it to be like when you put your hands between your thighs to keep ‘em warm.”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“What’s your pet peeve about her?”
Harry pondered. He looked at you, tapping his finger to his lip. “I hate the way she overanalyses everything. Sorry — I hate the way she overanalyses me. Men. She does it with my mates—”
“What?” Even you could feel a laugh coming on. “What do you mean by that?!”
“Like she gets all psychological in the way you think! Over everything! In an argument! In a debate! Like like like— I will give you a perfect example,” oh he clearly had something to get off his chest! “A while ago . . . we were arguing. Call it a disagreement.”
“Oh I remember this,” you nodded your head dramatically.
“I . . . got louder.”
“He raised his voice.” You corrected.
“What? You shouted?”
“He raised his voice, and I— I was like—” you’d honestly been shocked when a certain someone’s temper got the best of him, standing in your hall with your mouth open and him trying to speak over you. You hadn’t even argued back after it, not wanting to look at him after addressing you like that. You’d gone and resumed your tv show, blanking him.
He was right, it wasn’t a big fight, but he’d made it a big deal doing that.
What girl liked being shouted at by their man? Their big boy?
“It wasn’t even a fight! I said not 20 minutes later, I apologised, I was like ‘I am sorry for shouting but you weren’t hearing what I saying—’, she goes, ‘no, I was raising my voice—” god, he mocked your voice so bad.
“I said ‘I raised my voice because you weren’t listening to me’, I said ‘you were raising your voice because I wasn’t doing what you wanted me to do’—”
“You said obeyed.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“No you did.”
“I think I rem—”
“No, I remember you said it.”
“. . this argument is 2 years old?” You looked at him.
“And I remember it like it was yesterday ’cause I remember you made it sound like I was some big disgusting, controlling man and-and not your equal.”
Your mouth fell open slightly as you looked at him with raised brows, heart kind of pinching at his words.
He really thought that?
“Aww, what?” You reached your arm around his neck as he played on your guilt, not wanting it to be taken seriously, but he meant it.
“So there you go, she gets in your head and picks it apart, she does it all the time on Ethan an—” he tried to play up his act as you just wanted nothing more than to pull him on top of you and smother him in love like he was your big baby like at home.
“You mansplain the male mind fo males, is that your specialty?” Grace laughed, finding that such a boss move.
“No she literally does! She goes to Lux the other day!” Somehow you were the one on him, his arms wrapped around whilst trying to have a conversation with Grave with his beer in his other hand, “—‘don’t use weaponised incompetence on me, it’ll not work’,” Harry pulled his baffled face, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FUCKIN’ MEANS?!”
“WEAPON WHAT?!”
Gosh. You really weren’t on the same page for once.
“Using her big words to patronise everybody,” he looked at you, up and close, now you say just centimetres from his eyes, getting inspected. He loved you for it though.
“Is that your big word?” Your lips tugged to the side, and when he pulled his blank face, you laughed, and reached for your drink to finish off, sliding off him.
“What is weaponsided incompetence?”
“It’s when someone pretends to be bad at something so you’ll do it for them,” you explained, stirring the little umbrella in your glass.
“Oh my God.”
“That’s my pet peeve, she thinks she’s smar—she thinks she’s better than everybody,” your boyfriend teased in a serious tone.
“I am,” you spoke into the rim of your glass before taking a sip.
“Did you ever shag in the lamborghini?”
Cal had to have asked that.
“No.”
“No.”
“No? Did you have a lambo?!”
“‘Course he did,” you rolled your eyes so far back. What did you expect for a basic white boy to buy with his horrific stacks of cash?
“No. It was too low, too cramped.” Harry mumbled.
“The Mini Cooper did the job,” you rubbed your eye, laughing with the confession. “You can make fun of it all you want, my little girly car and have your cool cars — that’s not where the shagging went on!”
Grace laughed, laughing even more at the blond who was hiding his face in his hand at the conversation.
“ThisIsMoreSoMyOwnCuriosity—have you ever called someone the other’s name?” She locked her phone. “Did it ever . . slip out?”
It was quiet from both you, “y—” neither wanting to answer. I mean cut you both some slack, you’d been with such other over 4 years at the time! It was gonna take a moment to change the name on the tip of your tongue! At least you could say so on a certain occasion . .
But Harry’s embarrassed shake of the head and avoid on gaze told you both something you didn’t know before.
Woah! Talk about soulmate behaviour, no? No?
“One of the first dates I went on after him, they asked me what my necklace stood for – I’d worn it going to bloody dinner!” You shared, the H seeming to stand out under the lights as you talked about it. You could still remember the shock on your face as you reached for it, completely forgetting of its existence. But again, you’d worn it every single day for so man years, it didn’t even feel like it was there anymore.
“Safe to say I’m sure he didn’t come back,” she swiftly moved on, holding in a laugh. “Why haven’t you put a ring on it?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond dropped his head bashfully.
“Isn’t like . . your friends getting married?”
“Yeah.”
“So why . . ? Are you scared or something?”
“I-I-I . . . I don’t know, I just don’t know. Just anxiety man.”
“Don’t you want to marry that?” Grace pointed to you.
And he looked at you still smiling awkwardly, and he didn’t know why he was put off so much. With you, he could do anything. For you, he’d do anything, so why did he let nerves get the best of him when he knew everything would be ok? “You say all these things, you don’t like anyone else and you won’t cuff this bitch for life? This smoking hot bitch—”
“I don’t know! I don't know! Maybe when Vik and Simon get married, I’ll get . . encouraged.”
You rolled your eyes.
“You coulda been the first.”
“I coulda been. Coulda been. If I proposed — I wish I’d done it 5 years in . . and then I coulda waited a while.” But oop! Wha—what happened around 2019 again? What were you doing back then?
Not each other, tell you that.
“Mate - too many anniversaries to celebrate! I-I – we need to find our anniversary so we can get married on that day ‘cause I ain’t celebrating two different—”
“No, you guys should get married on your 10 year anniversary, then it’s a nice whole number,” Grace sparked the bright idea with a snap of her fingers.
“I’ve thought of that before,” you admitted, but then that’d mean you’d only have a year or so to plan. Not that Harry knew this anyway. You could tell he didn’t know this ‘cause he looked at you interestingly.
Hm.
“Do you want to get married?”
“I don’t even know, like,” he looked at you oddly, “what difference does it make? You finally take your purity ring off, or-or,” he said bluntly. You laughed loudly in the back of your hand.
“I mean I’d get your last name,” you looked at the toes of your shoes.
That was what hung over you, and that was what caught him out too. That was the one thing that made the day worth it for him. But ugh, what a long day.
Grace interrupted. “I want in on the Hen.”
“You and Cal can plan them,” you laughed. “No, I genuinely don’t care. I would never rush him. We’re chilling. I don’t even know what shape ring I want.”
That made Harry slightly nervous.
“What would people be surprised to hear about you both? As a couple? About your relationship?”
That both made you pause and think hard.
“Likeee . . do you ever have any assumptions from fans that are just totally wrong? Like—”
“Oo! Yeah! I know! People like to think I—‘cause I don’t post pictures. I don’t take pictures of her or that we have no pictures together,” Harry shook his head, “my camera roll is horrific.”
“LET ME SEE.”
“Jesus Christ, no,” he actually had to laugh in his hand at the inexplicable shit he had on there. A lit from the boys WhatsApp chat. He didn’t even know how to explain certain photos to you.
“GO ON!”
“Your video would get demonetised I guarantee you,” he laughed, “but I do take a lot of photos, especially of her.” Truth be told — you were probably the most photographed thing in there. “Our whole house is covered in photos?!”
“Our whole house is covered in photos,” you confirmed, “the second you step through the door, you will see pics from ski trips or Dubai or Italy or Amsterdam,” you could see the little frame photograph you’d gotten a stranger to take of you both on your first holiday trip.
Your favourite had to be holiday photos, specifically candids, like when Freezy took of you both sharing a chair and talking on the balcony, or with your arms around him in the water, tasting the same food and drink in an outside restaurant or when you’d put cold, greek yoghurt on his face when he’d burnt it to a crisp under the sun. You’d put it on yours, to make him feel less stupid, and taken a selfie with faces good enough to eat. But your all time favourite had to be when he’d taken a seat at bottom of a sunlounger, and you’d felt his scalp and how hot it’d got from under the sun. He’d sat facing you, and you’d put a towel over his head to protect it from burning even more, and done the same for yourself, knowing you both looked stupid and not like the hot Insta-influencers you both tried to be. It was his Mum who had taken it from next to you, probably to post on Facebook, but it was your favourite, how you both didn’t care as you spoke shit to one another, in your own world, laughing at whatever the other was saying.
“We have loads of fucking’ pictures,” Harry stretched his arms above his head, getting ton comfy in his seat when he’d be needing to move shortly. Too many that was going to be a pain to take down and put up again in your new house.
“9 years worth, hard picking out what ones,” you scraped down your brow hairs. You weren’t even going to mention how you changed the photo on your bedside table depending on what way you cleaned up your room and put on your bedsheets.
“Really! You don’t have all your photos do you?! On iCloud?”
“Oh yeah, Grace. If my iCloud got leaked, I -we- are fucked.”
“Alright, last question because God knows how long this video is and I’m sure the two of you are sick of seeing my face: what is the secret to an ever-lasting, happy relationship?” She locked her phone.
“Just wing it, man.”
You hit his arm, thinking about your answer.
“I think you just have to pick someone who can take a joke, who will keep the relationship playful even when you’re 80. Someone — I think I saw something from David Beckham when he got asked the secret to his marriage and he said ‘she’s my best friend. Would you want to hurt your best friend?’ and I think that kind of reminds me of — I mean you're looking at me like I’m some fuckin’ weirdo now but I know for a fact I would never want to upset any friend of mine. If I was with Talia and Faith and whoever, I’m not thinking about things I could do or say that could hurt them in any possible way, I wouldn’t dare jeopardise them if I think the world of them. Would you do something on Tobi or Ethan or Chris of Freezy or whoever, that you would do on me?”
“No.”
“Well then.”
“Yeah, it’s perfectly valid. I mean I think everyone calls their partner their best friend but when you like . . when they're really that, you don’t even — the things come naturally, you don’t even think of doing . . stupid stuff.” Yeah, he actually related more to that quote than he thought he would. Huh. “Date your best friend.”
“Find friendship in your partner. Keep things light.”
“And shag like the world is ending— no i’m joking,” Harry took back his comment with a high laugh towards you.
“Sure,” you perked a brow, ready to get him out of here.
“Not even to be that guy, but I genuinely think you just know as well. I think you just know within yourself when you’re supposed to know a person, when you’re supposed to be with them like — go with your gut instinct. If it feels like it’s changing you inside - for the better - you’re probably meant to be with them. Same for if they’re not meant for you, if you feel they’re changing you for the worst, drop that donny.” He snapped his fingers before pointing lazily to the camera.
“Very valid,” you nodded.
“Wow, I love that. Thank you for that— thank you for your time, today! I appreciate you both being here today, seriously, you have no idea.”
“No worries, thank you for having us on, it’s always a pleasure.” You smiled at her.
“Guys, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you but you can check these guys out I think on most platforms. You already know their socials, you already know YouTubes. Make sure you subscribe to my channel for more content like this and follow me on my socials - tell them to follow me, they’ll listen to whatever you say.”
“Follow her socials,” Harry obeyed awkwardly, looking at the camera with a giggle.
He was so weird at times. How do you make that awkward?
God, you loved him.
“And before you go, what Saving Grace have you got for me and the viewers at home?”
Harry sat with his mouth open in thought whilst your face pulled together in thought.
“Marry your best friend.”
Aw that was—
“And punch Calfreezy in the face when he’s a dickhead.” Harry hopped off his seat.
You laughed at him, looking at the camera, lost. “And Chip. Just . . the next time you see him. From us.”
Grace was laughing, unable to end the clip as it just cut with you all sharing a pathetic laugh.
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bangficsx · 29 days
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PLANNERS
pairing : jungkook x reader insert
word count : 7777 [coincidence ;)]
synopsis : wedding planner hooks up with the bride's cousin
warning : slight dry humping, teasing, blowjob, fingering, cum swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it's just a fic), a dick pic i don't think there's anything else..
"I already got the number given for how many tables and chairs are to be set up" the man tells you, leaving you in disbelief.
"I think you have a misunderstanding. I'm the event manager. I was supposed to have a meeting with you about it." You try to put forward your argument which gets dismissed again immediately.
"A certain gentleman came two hours before and told me everything in detail" the man answers getting irritated by your insistence about his mistake.
"Now please do not waste my time miss. I've got a lot of other clients." You turn around and roll your eyes, stomping forward murmuring "again".
It wasn't the first time your job got done by your customer. You have never met one like this before in the hundreds of weddings and events you've arranged. Why pay a hefty sum to you if they want to do everything on their own?
You make up your mind and set out on a quest to find the mysterious man who keeps completing the tasks he hired you to perform. And you've already assumed he must be the typical arrogant asshole from your nightmares.
The next morning, you leave for the photographer's studio three hours early. You were supposed to meet them to decide the lighting and type of camera that is to be used. What kind of shots the couple wants.
In your two year long career, you've never had an upset client. You try your best to deliver the exact kind of wedding they must've dreamt of for their whole lives.
The wedding ceremony is one of the most important events of a human's life. The most joyous celebration that unites two individuals and families together.
And you make those dreams come true. It's in your hand to control all that is controllable on that most special day of someone's life.
This wedding is by far the most expensive one you've ever handled. Usually you would manage two or three in a month. But they put a condition asking  you only focus on theirs for the month the wedding's scheduled in.
The groom started his own tech company at just 20 and earned a name for himself. While the bride is the ceo of a pharmaceutical company her dad left to her.
You ask your photographer if they got any emails about your event and when they checked they actually had one. You asked them for the address ensuring them there would be no consequences.
When you search the email address, you find it mentioned on a linked in account. You assume it must be the bride Si-young's cousin as you clearly remember her telling you she doesn't have any siblings of her own.
You find the man has attended a business school abroad and has professional posts about the company. Again you assume, he must work in the company too. Probably hold some influential position and hence, acts like such an asshole.
You also come from a well to do family yet you never understood why rich people spend money on services they don't even use.
You look at the picture of the man carefully. A pretty good looking man for sure. And you smirk when you find him in the car that's driving up the street just like you expected.
You feel stupid that you'd shared the schedule with them to assure everything would be done in time. There was a fair amount of time left yet you were working everyday as it was a big scale event, a grand affair. Two business tycoons coming together along with their souls and hearts.
You walk upto the spot where he parks his car. Resolute to give him an earful about what has been happening for the last week.
You stand with your hands folded waiting for him to ask what you want and to gladly tell him to let you do your job. He walks past you and enters the studio leaving you gasping.
You stomp your feet and follow him. Fuming in anger, you call behind him "excuse me mister what do you think are you doing huh?"
He keeps talking with the photographer showing her samples that you were supposed to show and tells them they want better ones than those.
"Mr Jeon!" You call him again. He finally turns around.
"Can I help you?" He asks as if he's clueless.
"Yes. I think you're aware that Ms Si-young and her fiancé have appointed me as their wedding planner. I'm the one whose supposed to perform the tasks you've been performing. It's my job" You finally release all your pent up frustration.
"It's complicated" he says and turns around to continue his conversation.
"Excuse me sir do you not understand how much inconvenience you've been causing me. I have been wasting my precious time and money to travel miles only to find you've already done the job" you shout unable to believe something like this could ever happen.
"Look it's not my problem. I told Si-young that I would look after every little detail about her wedding. It's not my fault if she paid someone to do it. Just keep the money." He says with an expression that says he wants you to fuck off but you aren't going to give up so easily.
Going away with free money is easy. But you're not gonna do that. It's a large sum of money that you received. And you need to manage this event to enhance your portfolio. Grabbing this opportunity is so far your biggest achievement. If you do this you'd be able to kick all the asses that laughed on your face when you told them your career choice was becoming an event manager.
And your stubbornness resulted into the gentleman bringing you to a café to explain to you why he wants to arrange everything by himself. How much it means to him. What Si-young denies to accept.
"Her dad died when she was nineteen. She was abroad studying when he was on his deathbed. I was by his side through out his sickness. And his dream was to have a perfect wedding for his only daughter. Look she's the only thing he ever had. Her mother died before he could marry her. He meant a lot to me because you see my dad all our fortune drinking and gambling. Uncle took me in and provided me with the best of opportunities and education and in turn it helped me send money to my family. He saved us and now I want to fulfill his last wish and dream. That's why I want to arrange the whole wedding. Ensure everything is absolutely perfect. Si-young likes to flex her money, she thinks just spending lots of money will get her the perfect wedding day. She doesn't understands only someone who deeply cares and loves her would ensure perfection." You feel attacked and he surely knows he's being rude to make you run but you're not going to, not so easily.
You've had enough experience dealing with people who won't trust you. Parents of brides and grooms, brides and grooms themselves, even your own parents.
You quickly pull your tablet put and open your browser which already has a tab open with your website on it.
"Well Sir I'd like to tell you I've been an event manager with an expertise in wedding planning for two years now. I've successfully managed a hundred weddings now and this is my profile. As you can probably see with your own eyes I'm able to put up the best possible events." You tell him proudly because nobody else ever takes pride in you.
"Look I've told you I want to do it and I'm going to do it no matter how much you try to" he says again and you can't bear it anymore.
You lash out "You don't understand how hard I've worked to get here alright. I've worked my ass off the past four years. Two years as an intern where I worked like a dog and then at my own company. I have been able to get here based on sheer hard work and nothing else. I'm not gonna let you snatch it away from me." He watches your nostrils flare, and your skin turn red.
"Alright calm down. Take a deep breath" he says before he sighs.
"Please" You can't believe yourself and takes everything in you to stoop like this but you speak the word out.
It's the way you ask him that he relates to you in some sense. He knows what working hard is like and can tell from your eyes you're speaking the truth.
"Can we do it together then?" He offers.
You roll your eyes at him, contemplate then answer "fine"
"So easy.. you had to make it so hard" he chuckles and you look away trying to hide your smile.
"At least get a black coffee for self respect. You're embarrassing me along with yourself" You point out that you two have been sitting for too long without ordering something.
"Sorry" he mumbles before ordering.
"It's okay" you respond.
"You just wanna... keep... sitting on the same table" he asks fearing another outburst from you.
"People might misinterpret if I suddenly leave and sit somewhere else." You answer. Think it might benefit both of you.
"How so?" He asks. You don't understand if he lacks experience assuming he might have drowned himself in studies first and now work or he's just messing with you and having his own fun in it.
"We looked like we were fighting. They might think we were a couple... and we broke up" you answer clearing all his doubts.
"You're kinda clever you know" he says.
"No doubt" you answer.
Your coffees arrive and you both silently sip from your cups. He keeps glancing at you then at the table. Covers his mouth not known to you, he's covering a foolish grin, a blush because he can't stop looking at you and get reminded of how cute he found you in control of anger. How he adores a smart woman who can take a stand for themselves and don't give up.
"You know complete silence can be misinterpreted in a way too" he leans over the table folding his arms.
"Certainly" you agree. Also you are finding it impossible to resist the urge to talk to him.
A part of you is unable to believe you are having coffee even that you're sitting at the same table with a person who studied from one of the top business schools of the world.
"You want a sandwich or something... lemme compensate you for all the money you spent at least obviously I can't return you the time" he speaks looking around for the waitress. Before you can refuse he has already ordered two. You didn't say anything because you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger. You hadn't eaten a proper dinner last night too.
"You know I kinda understand her dad and you too" your words grab his attention. He looks at you, fluttering his eyes, without any shame not moving them away.
"Hmm" he finds himself at a lack of words.
"It's pretty important to my dad too... That someday my wedding goes well if it happens. But we aren't really on good terms anymore so I don't really know what's gonna happen when the time comes" you tell him. Mustering the courage to finally open up. You've been in your shell for way too long now. It's been five months since you and your girlfriend broke up.
"What happened" he asks trying to not offend. "If you're comfortable to share" he quickly adds.
Your sandwiches arrive right before you start answering, "He wanted me to be an engineer but I had no interest in that area. So he didn't help me tuition for undergrad or anything at all. Mom is a homemaker so she couldn't help me as such. Then when I started my business even then he didn't give any seed money or anything. So far I've been able to manage on my own so I guess I'll arrange my own wedding by myself too. I've got one life, I'm gonna live it out on my own terms. I don't give a fuck anymore" you bite a huge piece off your sandwich not caring what he thinks.
"I'm proud of you" he mutters.
You are surprised to hear that and make no efforts to hide that, "What... what did you just say?" You ask.
"Oh you heard it. You're strong and self made so..." he scratches his nape nervously.
"Thanks" you tell him.
You take another bite of your sandwich.
"Also my parents don't know that I'm bi" You blurt out, kinda on purpose to see if he's gonna back off because of that but it doesn't budges him. He seems to be absolutely fine with it. And there have been many who have left after you state that fact about yourself.
When you both finish eating you walk outside the café together.
"Sorry for wasting your time like that" you apologise. "You seem like you have a serious job"
"No it's not like that... it's all for Si-young and she means a lot to me, even more than my own siblings." He quickly explains.
"Wine tasting tomorrow 5pm" You remind him although he must already have it pinned on his schedule.
"See ya" he leaves after getting in his car. He wanted to ask you to get in the car and drop you wherever it was you needed to go but he had a meeting in an hour and had to prepare for it.
The next day, you meet again. You feel guilty of the excitement of sorts that you hold in your heart to meet him again.
You thought about him all day long the day before, all night and all morning. He was beautiful and kind. Inspiring and caring. You'd never met a guy like that before.
You skip your usual pants and shirt work outfit and instead wear a dress. With a denim jacket on top and boots to walk in.
The wine seller was not a long distance away from your place. You had a home office setup and were saving for an actual office.
You find that Jungkook has already reached the location and was waiting for you. You feel embarrassed not knowing for how long he's been there.
He walks upto you and greets you and you do the same. You walk inside together.
"We have a booking for a wine tasting" you ask the receptionist who points at an old man sitting in a corner. She asks him to take over.
You and Jungkook sit at a table with glasses placed in front of you. The old man uninterested to work asks you to just tell whichever tastes best after showing you samples from what they offer at weddings. You know that the place has the best wines so you don't object towards the behaviour.
"Should we try this one first?" He asks.
You both try the same wines and wait for a few seconds for the taste to settle in.
"No way" You answer. He chuckles and nods.
"OK, trust me this isn't their best" you tell him quickly not letting him doubt your choice of wine seller.
"You've had the best one before?" He asks.
"Yeah someone gifted me once" you get reminded of your ex who brought it for your anniversary. It brings back all the bitter memories from your breakup. It was the longest, strongest relationship of your life yet it ended in such a bad way. You still haven't completely forgotten her.
"Jungkook" you take his name as if he's a friend of yours.
"Yeah everything alright?" He senses the change in your tone and expressions because he hasn't looked anywhere else.
"Can you... can you please taste these and tell me which one you like best? I'm sure you have a great taste in alcohol." You request him. He looks at you and nods.
He picks up a glass and drinks from it. You're sure he must have a hundred questions rushing through his mind but he's not asking them out of politeness.
"Don't wanna kill you with curiosity it's just because my last ex and to be honest one of the best ones brought the best wine from here for our anniversary so I don't wanna taste it and remember it all again. It was pretty terrible... the break up" you purse your lips.
"I'm not curious about those things" he sips another wine and makes a face furrowing his eyebrows. You don't know what to make of it, it looks like he's gonna get angry at you for bringing you to a place which has not a single good one.
"How are these their bestsellers... like what the fuck is even happening here" you look around to call someone and ask them if they actually arranged you the best samples.
"No wait... fuck.." he takes another sip. "Heaven" a moan escapes his mouth before he presses his lips together.
"You like it? I was worried, thought you were gonna get angry at me" you sigh in relief and he laughs, giggles looking at your face.
"Why would I ever get angry at you?" He shrugs his shoulders.
"I boasted about this particular place so I'm bound to be questioned if it doesn't turns out as per the expectations I have planted in someone else's mind. Part of my job is to have a varied taste because different people like different things and I have to cater to their needs accordingly." You speak and he was mesmerized with you.
"You speak so well... damn. You really are passionate about what you do" hee says.
"Yes I am" you confirm.
"I like people with passion for their jobs" he says. You feel butterflies in your tummy. You know how he's indirectly pointing at you.
"So... should I go sort it out with them?" You ask.
"You know... you could drink some other wine. I don't like getting drunk alone" he says.
"Well if you feel like that" you buy a mid range bottle for yourself and ask for a glass. It's not necessarily a place to sit and drink in, yet you two are the only ones there. And you don't like making people feel lonely so you'd better get a little drunk too. And wine makes you feel kinda cosy, drunk but still like yourself.
You can see that he is tipsy. He buys the wine he liked for himself. Once you're both finished you step outside the store.
"How did you get here?" You ask.
"Took a cab" he answers. "Driving wouldn't have been a smart thing to do if I knew I was gonna drink" he adds.
"Don't you have like drivers" you ask curiously. The alcohol starts to have it's effects with the passage of time.
"Not me" he answers your query.
"Hope you aren't getting late for any plans" he says checking if you haven't forgotten about something.
"Why are you curious now?" You smirk.
"Don't want you to blame me later that I got you drunk"
"I drank out of my own will. Just say you're curious to know if I have a partner. I can sense your intentions very well Jeon" you walk away from him but he giggles and steps closer again. You move away again and he pulls you, gently holding your arm.
"Hey I have no such intentions" he denies.
"I'm not so naive to not notice" you keep walking forward with a straight face.
You are certain of what's going on inside his mind. You were sure of your attraction when you first saw him. You've had enough of crying over your ex and remembering the things she did to you. All you need is someone else to do even better things to you.
"By the way... how old are you?" He asks hesitantly.
"Not a minor for sure" you try to annoy him.
"Real age please ma'am" he rolls his eyes.
"Turning 24 in a couple months" you tell him wondering if he's older than you or if he would be uncomfortable that you're younger than him.
"I'm 26, means I can talk informally with  you" he states without you asking.
You don't know why you keep walking further. Even though you know you should just take a cab and go back home yet it's like you're waiting for something. You want to just get even the glimpse of an opportunity. Even though a part of you knows it's not completely right but that adds to the thrill of it all.
"Are you sure you don't have someone waiting for you?" You ask him indirectly.
You are begging inside your heart to know that he's single.
You can't stop the trail of dirty thoughts that follows as you see his skin shining with the layer of sweat that's covering his face. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, you see him bite his lip before he looks at you with a hint of lust in his eyes.
"Umm no. I have been single for like two years now. My ex left behind a lot of damage too. Took me a lot of therapy and strength to get through it all. We dated four years, I thought she was the one and only and well..." he pauses. You understand what he means and nod.
"I'm sure your little heart will heal" you pat his chest lightly and he smiles. His hand brushes yours as he shifts to walk closer to you even though you barely had an inch between you two.
The image of him biting his lip replays in your mind. You glance at his lips again which he parts making you avert your gaze before he notices.
He's in a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans. Your eyes travel south and get a quick look at the fabric hugging his toned thighs. You wonder if how many abs he's got under the shirt. Fuck, you can't believe your brain is fantasizing about a man you've only met twice when the sun has just started to set.
"You're curious about so many things right now but you aren't asking isn't it?" You smile looking at him. Try to ease the tension because you can sense it building in him too.
"Oh come what do you think I'm even curious about?" He scoffs.
"We're all curious about things Jungkook" you say. You almost trip over a rock but he holds your hand. He keeps holding it just in case you lose balance again. You both are equally tipsy.
"Well what are you curious about?" He asks after a moment.
"Well you know like what happens after death? What will happen to me if the number of people getting married keeps decreasing? What cock tastes like?" The last one makes him cough and stare you.
"You're so drunk" he says.
"Not so much" you tell him.
"Then repeat what you just said" he says
"Why?" You fold your arms over your chest narrowing your eyes at him.
"Why is that a thing you're the most curious about?" He blurts out.
"You're asking like you have some position open for a blow job giver" you joke.
"Like you'd apply for the job" he adds.
You look around people don't give a fuck they're busy minding their own business. You regret saying what you said but yet you let go.
"Have you been to the wedding venue yet?" You ask changing the topic.
"Just checked it out on the internet" he says.
"Wanna go check it out?" You ask.
"I'm kinda tired what about tomorrow?" He offers.
"We've only walked like 500 metres" you chuckle.
"I'm sure it's more than a thousand" he says.
You reach the bus stand from where you can get a bus to your place. He stands beside you.
"You should get a cab. I'll just get on the bus." You tell him. You sense the disappointment in his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't express his desire.
"Okay. If that's what you want" he takes his phone out from his pocket.
You feel foolish waiting for him to turn around and say something. He keeps tapping his foot on the ground, looking at his phone.
The next day arrives after much anticipation. You get late, losing time in doing makeup.
The blood rushes to your cheeks everytime you think about him. You slept last night dreaming about his face, his lips, his delicate features.
You wait on the road for the cab to arrive. Jungkook texts you that he's on his way.
The banquet's in a hotel where the ceremony will take place.
Last night you both had no other options. You don't think each other's homes would've been a great option and there were no motels in sight either. He didn't even bring his car which could've been a compromise you would've made.
Now being in a hotel means you have the opportunity on hand you just have to catch it.
You give him a tour of the place. You have permission to enter the hotel at any time since they all know you are a wedding planner and you're managing an event there in a month.
As soon as he finds you both in a secluded corner he's quick to make the offer.
"You do know what I'm expecting?"
"What? For me to pay for lunch?" You tease him.
"For your curiosity to die" he answers.
"I don't wanna die so young" you tell him.
"Sure can't before you taste cock" you cringe hearing him phrase your words. You know it's just skin and flesh, it can't have it's own taste. It's not like pussy which you've tasted many times but only your ex's. You were drunk, wanted to be suggestive towards him and hence made that up.
"Well I don't have anyone right now whom I'd like to suck off" you tease him more. Kinda like to watch him get desperate.
"Think again" he says. You almost laugh but like how direct he's acting. He has hope evident in his eyes.
"Thought so hard my head hurts" you answer to play a level further than him.
"You're killing me" he says making you walk backwards and hit your back against the wall. Although he keeps his hand behind you so that you don't get hurt.
"No I'm not" you say.
"I'll buy you pretty things" he says. Keeps his hands beside your head.
"I'm weird I don't like pretty things" you joke, enjoy the way he hisses with frustration.
"Then I'll buy you ugly things. Or whatever you like..."
"Excuse me.. I'm not looking for a sugar daddy" you clarify. He sighs. Gets closer.
"I know you want me and you're fighting it. And I want you so bad... you can't even imagine" you hold to him for support as he stands dangerously close to you, staring into your eyes. You pull him a little closer and with the tip of your tongue lick his lower lip. The metal of his lip ring feels cold as your tongue glides over it.
Before he ends up losing all control, he takes your hand and barges into an open room. You raise your eyebrows finding it very questionable what he just did.
"I already booked it" he smirks before he  sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you above his lap.
You sit on him a bit hesitantly knowing he has a growing erection underneath his pants, causing him to act like this.
"Don't act so innocent" he whispers before pulling you closer with his hands on your hips. His hardness presses to your crotch.
You wrap your legs tighter around him.
He tangles his fingers with your hair. You lean closer to him but he doesn't kisses you. You try to get your lips on his but he keeps moving his face, touching his lips and his nose on your cheeks and neck and behind your ears.
"Don't" you whisper.
"Like you didn't" he puts a peck on your lips then pulls back again before you can fully kiss him. You let out a complaining groan and give up on trying to kiss him. He'll do it on his own because you know he wants it too.
"So desperate aren't you..." he presses his lips near yours. "Yet you were giving me such a hard time"
"You were the one denying your very obvious interest in me... and I was kinda nervous because I've never before hooked up with my clients or anyone related" you tell him. He chuckles.
"That's because you help people plan their weddings silly... it would be really problematic if you hook up with someone who's about to get married" you laugh at his words. The vibrations of your laugh travel to him, as both of your chests remain pressed together.
"And if it's not them it's their parents, that's way worse" you both giggle before he tucks your hair behind your ear and finally kisses you.
You hold his head to not let him go and slowly move your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your actions with the same passion you show. He gently grazes his teeth over your lip. You squeeze his nape lightly.
His hands travel down your neck and you look down as he unbuttons your shirt. It's brown to go with your black trousers. Your bra is just a cotton one. You washed your only lace one and it didn't dry in time to wear in the morning.
Jungkook cups your breast as he kisses down your cleavage. You fiddle with his buttons too. You really want to see what's underneath. He's insanely beautiful for a man and you feel jealous of his soft, silky hair. You have to carry out a whole ten step haircare routine through out the week to keep your hair frizz free and prevent dryness.
When he kisses you again, you grind yourself against him a little. He moans into your mouth. It's evident how close to the edge he is.
"You know if you want I can help you with that" you say as you feel wetness seep from your own folds as you stay pressed against his hard cock.
"Oh please... please..." he pulls himself away a little. Palms himself before you move his hand away.
You keep your hand on his chest and make him lie down. You have always liked how bouncy hotel mattresses tend to be. He giggles but quiets down as your hand reaches the button of his jeans.
You grip him from above his clothes and he pushes himself up against your hand. You unbutton his jeans after rubbing him for a few seconds.
Slowly you pull down his boxers too. And adore how pretty and thick he is. Your first man in four years and you're glad to grab a nice one. You feel evil to think of him like this but who cares, you both are just here to fool around, have fun.
You had a boyfriend when you were around nineteen to twenty and since then you only dated women. You did go on a couple dates with guys but none of them worked out.
You pull his jeans down his hips around his thighs. His cock is fully hard, the tip shines with precum. You make him lose his shirt too revealing the tattoo sleeve. You had gotten a glimpse of tattoos sneaking up his sleeve but had no idea that he had a whole hand full of them.
"Pretty tattoos" you remark and he smiles grazing his fingers on his arm.
"Tell me about them after you cum" you say making him chuckle.
"For that you have to start somewhere... I'm dying please" he whines.
You're quick to oblige. Your hands wrap around his dick. You give him a few pumps before licking his length.
You keep moving your hands around the base as you suck the top. He let's out muffled moans as you continue.
Somehow you get lost in the way he moans, knowing it's because of you, that you still can make people feel good. You were skeptical of yourself for a while after your ex labelled sex with you at the end of your relationship as average. You had always had a thrilling sex life with your partners, trying new things, new locations, new positions and techniques yet somehow you grew boring to her.
And here a man lay in front of you, groaning and moaning, definitely not faking it, with the way he was twitching and throbbing inside your mouth.
You keep going without thinking much. You find him responding well and if you keep doing it he'll reach climax and that is what you want for him, to get some release. He's been stressed about his cousin's approaching wedding and you assume his work life must be hectic too.
He grabs your hair in his fist trying his best to not hurt you. His grip loosens as you feel a warm liquid fill your mouth. The taste is a mix of things you can't describe with just one word. Before you swallow the first spurt another gets released out from his tip. Your clit throbs so bad, your heart beats so fast, you feel so wet, you just want to pull your pants down and make yourself cum if nobody's gonna do it for you. You feel an ache in your pussy and an urgent need to relieve yourself from it.
Jungkook lies with his head buried in the pillows. When he looks at you there's a shine to his face, his eyes. He has no care for how he came so much that too in your mouth.
"Either you make me cum right now or I'm making myself" you say pushing your trousers down as you lie beside him. You throw your shirt away too.
"Alright do it then..." he says. "Let's see how hard you can make yourself cum" his words sends another chill down your spine.
"Well then" you sit comfortably on the bed. Then part your legs. He watches carefully. You slowly push your panties to the side. Touch your clit and moan as the touch feels heavenly.
But the way that your pussy is all wet and messy and pretty Jungkook can't resist the temptation.
He sits beside you and slowly trails his hand up your thigh. You continue to rub your clit not caring what he thinks. Why would you do it's not like he means anything to you.
He doesn't removes your finger instead pushes his into your hole. "Fuck" you moan as he tries to find the sweet spot.
You increase your pace of stroking your clit.
With his free hand, he pushes the fabric of your bra down to expose your breasts just enough to get access to your nipples. He circles his thumb around the hardened buds.
As his finger continues to circle on your g-spot, he wraps his mouth around your nipple. His tongue circles around. He sucks trying to take in more of your boob into his mouth. You find it hard to maintain your rhythm of clit rubbing.
Yet as you find yourself too close to the climax, you're motivated to keep going. You just know it's going to be very hard. And with your moans and expressions, he finds his motivation too. He presses the tip of his finger against your walls.
You feel an unbearable pressure build inside you. Desperately trying to get relief. He's amazed how fast your hand starts moving. His eyes don't move away from your cunt neither does his finger pressing on your g-spot.
He takes your tit inside his mouth again. Your moans intensify as it finally snaps. Your thighs shake, you see the stars, think you've died for a second. It travels from your head to toe. You remove your hand but he doesn't.
Through the overstimulation he brings to you another unbearable pressure which turns into a wave of pleasure as you lose all control and squirt, shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook pulls his hand away and watches as you rub yourself again and spray more of the liquid soaking the sheets. You keep rubbing yourself and an orgasm combines with it. The control of your body has gone from you to your orgasm.
Jungkook moans watching you as his hand reaches his own cock thats hard again. He starts to pump himself as you catch your breath, your body still shakes.
"You surely enjoyed that" he says.
"Very much" you answer.
"Can we fuck now?" He asks. It's inevitable. You didn't think you'd come this hard in front of him. You look at his cock hard and ready to fuck you senseless.
Your lingering gaze tells him enough. He takes position above you. And before you know his tip is massaging your insides as he thrusts himself again and again.
Your phone starts suddenly ringing and with the surprise he sits up still holding his shaft. You fumble with the objects inside your handbag and take your phone out.
It was the hotel manager telling you they've arranged a special meal for you and your guest. Jungkook rubs himself against your clit and you almost moan yet he doesn't stops instead smirks.
As soon as you cut the call, he starts to fuck you again this time relentlessly. You both struggle to hold for long and come within minutes. He pulls out at the right moment, makes a mess all over your tummy and you clench around nothing as a short quick orgasm washes over you.
It's hard to speak after what you two did. You decided to take turns to shower. Thankfully you had an emergency pair of panties in your handbag which remains there all the time in case you unexpectedly start your period.
It's a rooftop setting where your food was. You had developed an appetite after the things you did that had tired you out immensely. You hadn't expected this at all, you were firm before entering the room that you'll just make out with him but so is life and it's happenings, one thing leads to another.
You sit across the table from Jungkook.
"It got a little crazy I'm sorry. I just lost..." he interrupts you and you wait for him to speak, "It was so fucking good... don't you dare try and deny that" he gives you a serious look and you chuckle.
"It'd been a while since I had fun like that. Sometimes one needs that right?" He nods, mouth stuffed with food. Would've bought you food regardless the hotel offered it or not.
"Bet you can say Si-young did a good job hiring me?" You joke.
He bites his lip before he laughs lowly.
"We're done with bookings now. I talked over a few things with the hotel. Guess I'm gonna see you for the final checks now" you speak in a low tone.
When you think about it you're gonna miss him even though it isn't a long time that you two spent together. There's just something about him that does something to your heart which you don't understand.
"Actually I have to go on a trip abroad and I don't know how long it's gonna take to wrap up the work although I'll be here for the wedding anyhow" he tells you. His voice is low. You know how much he wants to look after preparations firsthand.
"Hey don't worry. I hope you have some sort of trust on me now. I'll work my ass off to make sure your sister has the perfect wedding. And I'll give you updates every fifteen minutes." You say reach his hand that rests on the table.
"I'm counting on you" he says tightly holding your hand.
"You can" you answer.
Over the next few weeks you try to make contact with him but the time difference makes it impossible for you to have a conversation with him in real time. Mostly you send him updates regarding the wedding which is just work for you.
On a lucky day, you catch him online at an ungodly hour. You find out he's drunk. He keeps mentioning the sex you both had. Explains in detail, the things he liked which is almost everything about it. You're surprised he remembers it in such detail.
He sends you a pic of his erect penis says he's thinking about how you came and he hopes you look at it and make yourself come even harder. Everytime you are playing with yourself, you do remember the way his fingers worked and try to replicate it. The orgasms are strong that way and with his image in your mind even more.
You have no idea how you're gonna get him out of your mind. Although it brings you some peace that you're in his mind too.
He was in another country, he could be fucking anyone. It's not like he has to try too hard to get some. Yet he was thinking about you while jerking off. He liked the parts which others found a mess and a pain in the ass.
It was the nicest feeling to have someone accept you, appreciate you, like the way your body is and the way you are.
Much to your disappointment, he could only arrive on the day of the wedding. Hours before the ceremony starts. You had completely forgotten about his arrival, drowned in work as you were.
You were checking the lighting and flowers all around the place when two hands touched your shoulders. You turn around freaked out. Although it could be a friend from the staff trying to tell you to relax.
When you look at him you can't belive that he made it. He hugs you and presses a kiss on your forehead.
"Thank you so much for looking after everything so well" he thanks you but you shake your head.
"I'm getting paid" you say, then whisper "a big sum" you add. Although money hadn't been the only motivation for you to work hard on this project.
"Look at you" he fixes your hair, "What has become of you? You work hard more than you need to" he lightly pats your cheek before he guides you to a room at the back.
"Now show me the dress you're wearing.  Will wank in advance so I don't get too horny if you're gonna look too hot" he says.
"What... there's no dress I'll just be wearing what I'm already wearing" you glance at yourself in the mirror, you put on a shirt with embellishments to look not too plain. You don't get ready for every wedding that you plan.
"Good I bought you one. I just saw this while walking on the street and thought how good this'll look on you" he opens his bag and takes a packet out. He rips it open and gives you the dress.
"And you're still interested in me? The time was enough to fall in love with someone new" you say as if he had ever been in love with you.
"I'm not so easy" he says.
"Tell someone else" you respond with a smug look on your face. He chuckles.
"Now are you gonna change or..." he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt.
You think of taking over for a moment but then let him do it.
You help him pull the shirt down your arms leaving you in your bra. His hand reaches your back and he unhooks your bra.
"Hey..." you hold his hand to stop him.
"What? The dress is padded" you hadn't really noticed even when he was showing you the dress you were just busy looking at him.
Your bra slips off and his hand wraps around your tits. He squeezes them then sucks your nipples one by one, covers your whole chest with small kisses. You feel the wetness growing, you can't get too distracted. You have to go out or everything will fall apart.
His hand goes down your navel and rests between your thighs. Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers against your pussy.
"Oops made you wet. Don't worry will gladly help you with it..." he smirks and you remain numb as he slips his hand inside your panties.
The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit. You whimper.
"I don't have time" you complain.
"Alright" he starts to rub you. Circles his finger around your clit.
You were so wet, so aroused. You started to grind yourself on his hand and suddenly came, your juices gushing, clit throbbing against his finger, thighs shaking, you hold him for support.
"Told ya" he chuckles then pulls his hand away and hands you the dress to wear.
You like the dress, it was complimenting his outfit when you two stand together.
He stands behind you and holds your hand bringing it to his throbbing hardness. You rub your fingers on him a little bit then turn towards him.
"I need to be out there to make sure you can ensure the perfect wedding for your cousin." You touch his cheeks.
"Wait for me here after the reception is over. I'll get here and then I'll make you make up for it" you nod giggling before you leave.
When you left the room, you had no idea this was the last time you were ever going to talk to him.
This was the last time you were ever going to see him.
You did come to the room and wait like he asked but instead of him a girl came.
Said she was just made his fiancé and was supposed to wait for him there like the bride had told her to.
You knew who the girl was. You knew where she sat. She was from a business family too.
In the end, like always you got proved wrong. Money emerged victorious over human emotions or feelings.
You might plan a thousand weddings after that but he will always remain a distinct memory. A mysterious man who won your heart in a way you could never describe.
767 notes · View notes
rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months
Text
📸📸📸
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words: 2.4k
warnings: 18+ only! smut, sexting, sending nudes, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of pregnancy
y/n: what time are you home?
you know you could go and check his schedule that he sent you access to, but honestly, you just want an excuse to communicate with rafe. it takes him twenty minutes to reply, meaning he’s really busy, because he never takes more than five to get back with you.
rafe: 7:30. you should eat dinner without me. 
y/n: when are you gonna eat?
rafe: i’m working through dinner. will make something when i get home
you love how hardworking rafe is, but hate how he will sometimes ignore his needs to get something done. he’s taking you on a week-long vacation soon, and he’s doing a lot of extra work to prepare for being off, as if he doesn’t already have enough to do.
you sigh and throw your head back onto the pillow, glancing at the alarm clock. only 1pm. you hope rafe at least paused for lunch, but you’re not sure you can wait a whole six hours to see rafe, especially considering he left before you were even awake.
y/n: i miss you so much
10 minutes pass before you get a response back
rafe: i know baby, i’ll be back before you know it, and we will have all that time alone soon
you know while you’re looking forward to the upcoming vacation, rafe needs it. 
y/n: i want alone time with you right now :(
rafe only reads the message, making you pout, wondering why he’s not given you a response. it’s most likely that something else has just come up, tearing his attention away, but it still makes you upset, wanting to override anything else for him.
you leave your phone on the bed and head to the closet, pulling out a couple of things you know rafe can’t resist. you start with his favorite lingerie, a pale blue that shows off your tan, then layer it with his favorite dress, it’s a white cotton sundress that just drives him absolutely crazy every time you put it on.
you sit back on the bed, placing your phone on the pillow and posing, using the self timer to take a couple innocent pictures.
y/n: do you like my outfit? *two images attached*
rafe responds instantly, making you laugh.
rafe: i love it. what is it that i see peeking out from under the strap?
you knew rafe would pick up on the blue lace peeking out. you tug the dress off, careful to hang it back up, wanting for sure to take it on your vacation, before taking a few more pictures, in a lot less clothes.
y/n: oh, just your favorite *one image attached*
rafe: baby… you know i’m at work
y/n: i know… i just miss you so bad. need you.
you do consider for a second that you don’t know exactly where rafe is, and he could have had anyone sitting near him see you scantily clad, but you need and miss him too badly to care.
rafe: you have to be patient, darling. 7:30.
you roll your eyes at the message, knowing no way in hell that you were waiting 6 hours to see your husband.
rafe: i’m going into a meeting now. will check on you in 30 minutes, okay honey?
you smirk to yourself, knowing 30 minutes is the perfect amount of time to get yourself into a little bit of trouble.
you open your camera up, taking hundreds of photos in the lingerie, venturing into wild poses and sending all the best ones to rafe.
you then start to strip away the lingerie before you get an idea, sliding the straps back on before starting to record a video. you stay silent, knowing rafe is more than likely going to have to watch on mute. you smirk at the camera, blowing a kiss before reaching behind you to unclip your bra, giving what you hope is a sexy wiggle of your shoulders as you slide it off, exposing your breasts. you grip them, opening your mouth in a moan, shutting your eyes to imagine rafe’s hands instead.
you move onto your underwear next, getting onto your knees and turning so your ass is facing the camera. you slowly slide them down your legs before spreading your ass, revealing both your holes to the camera. it’s the most scandalous you’ve ever been, but you’re extra needy for rafe today.
you flip over so you’re back facing the camera, keeping your legs spread wide as you run a finger down the center of your chest, over your naval, until you dip into your core, not suppressing the shudder that moves through your body. 
you stop the video there, sending it to rafe without really thinking of the consequences. you know that you’ll get punished when he gets home, but that homecoming will be a lot sooner than originally planned.
you lay down on the bed, completely nude, and try to do something to pass the time. you try scrolling through social media, or playing some mobile games, but you can’t get your mind anywhere other than between your thighs.
you let a hand trail down to between your legs, not yet rubbing directly on your clit, but near enough to make you moan. you open up your secret folder of rafe. it’s mostly shirtless pictures you’ve taken of him at on the boat or around the house, but there’s a few nudes in there as well, only sent when you’ve been away from each other for a long time. rafe isn’t one to normally send pictures, preferring to interact over a video chat instead.
you pause your play before you get too excited, opening up your chat with rafe.
y/n: i’m touching myself
y/n: thinking of you
y/n: i need your cock so bad, baby. come home and take care of your wife
you head back to the folder, flipping through pictures as your fingers rub over your clit. you press a finger inside, rolling your eyes back in your head as you prepare for the feeling of rafe’s cock inside of you.
you swipe to one of his nudes, admiring from top down, how wide his shoulders are, how his abs are even more prominent in the low bathroom lighting, eyes finally trailing down to his cock, hand wrapped around it, mid-jerk.
rafe: baby… 
your heart skips a beat in happiness at his response.
y/n: still touching myself… i need you rafey
rafe takes 10 minutes to respond, and you hope that it’s just filled with him canceling meetings and driving home.
rafe: heading home now
you let out a little cheer, springing up from the bed, smoothing down the crumpled sheets, deciding to wait downstairs for rafe. you forgo any clothes as you get ready for his arrival, lighting a candle and setting it on the living room coffee table to scent the whole house, and turning on the perfect amount of lights to create a moody atmosphere. 
“princess.” rafe calls, and you hurry to the front door.
rafe smirks when he sees you, pulling you in for a kiss. “there’s my little brat.”
you hum against his lips, having expected some punishment. rafe shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in a crisp white button down and professional yet stylish pants and shoes. rafe in his business attire always leaves you feeling extra horny for him, wanting nothing more than to slip his cock out through his pants and get on your knees for him.
“i’m sorry, rafey, i just missed you so much.” you pout, pressing kisses to his jaw. “i couldn’t wait.”
“i had so much work to get done, you know?” rafe grabs your wrist, leading you into the kitchen. “had to cancel four different meetings, and i could barely concentrate in the last one after you sent me that picture.”
you try to kiss rafe to make up for it, but he stops you. 
“bend over the island.” 
you quickly do as he says, getting up on your tip toes to lean over the island counter, glad that you took the time to clean it this morning. your bum sticks out, and you know exactly what is to come. rafe’s punishment is hard and swift, but he always makes up for it after.
his hand swats at you ass, making you mewl as you try your best to keep quiet, knowing any comments are only going to extend the spankings further.
rafe lands a few more blows, but they’re overall very gentle, not wanting to actually hurt you, more using it as a delay to giving you your pleasure, but you know what is coming, and it has the wetness between your legs increasing, starting to drip down your thigh.
“you really can’t wait, can you?” rafe laughs, sinking down to his knees behind you.
“what are you?- oh!” you’re cut off as rafe buries his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping at your slit, wanting to taste everything you have to offer.
you know he must have been desperate for you too to not have punished you any more than a few light spankings, but you honestly don’t care as his tongue flicks over your clit.
you drop your forehead onto the cool counter, already having built yourself up before rafe got home, and wanting to hold back on your first orgasm to enjoy rafe eating you out for longer.
rafe hums as he practically makes out with your pussy, alternating between using his tongue and pressing wide, open mouth kisses to your sensitive skin.
“rafe, oh my god, right there.” you moan as he sucks on your clit, knowing that your orgasm is very quickly appraoching.
“cum for me.” rafe says when he pulls away momentarily, kissing along your ass, covering the red marks in smooches. “cum all over my face”
with that, he buries his mouth back in between your legs, making obscene slurping noises that have you blushing, whole body starting to shake, half from the exhaustion in your legs, half from the pleasure.
“oh my god, rafe!” you scream out as he flicks your clit rapidly, making you see stars as your orgasm washes over you like a wave.
rafe slows his licks, letting you ride out your orgasm until you’re satisfied and slumped, boneless against the counter.
“come here.” rafe says softly, helping you stand up straight. rafe kisses you gently, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as you stretch out your sore legs. the kiss quickly turns passionate, rafe groping your tits as you work on the button on his pants before unzipping them, letting out his hard cock.
“aren’t you happy you came home early?” you ask rafe as he lifts you so you’re sitting on the counter, his cock the perfect height to slide over your pussy.
“always happy to be home with you, wifey.” rafe says, dropping his head to kiss along your neck while he continues to grind against you, giving you some time to recover from your orgasm.
“fuck me, please.” you ask rafe, giving him your best doe eyes.
rafe gives you one more peck on your lips before nodding, taking his cock into his hand and lining it up with your entrance, sinking into the familiar place. your walls adjust perfectly to him, moulding around his cock.
“feels so good.” you whine, bending your legs at the knee and bringing your feet up onto the edge of the counter, opening you up wide for rafe.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he starts to thrust, the sound of his trousers slapping against your skin creates a thwap that vibrates throughout the kitchen.
it’s extra obscene, you completely nude, versus rafe still completely clothed, right down to the shiny shoes on his feet.
“perfect.” rafe says, already sounding slightly out of breath. “the perfect pussy for me, baby, just like you’re the perfect girl for me.”
you moan at his praise, pressing kisses along his jaw and neck, at least what you can get to that’s not hidden under a collar.
“i love you.” you tell rafe, always getting the urge to remind him when his cock hits that one place inside of you.
“i love you too baby.” rafe says, squeezing your hips tightly. “even when you’re a brat and send me dirty pictures to make me come home early.”
“it worked didn’t it?” you smile, knowing exactly what your cockiness is going to get you, as rafe delivers a slap to your hip before leaning down and sucking a hickey into the crook of your neck, bound to create quite the bruise that you’ll have to cover up tomorrow.
“can’t wait until a week from now, and this is all we’ll be doing.” rafe says, and your mind goes foggy at the thought of your vacation being completely sex-filled, not sure if you can handle all of that.
“maybe i’ll bring you back home pregnant.” rafe says, making you gasp, tightening your pussy around him at the thought of it.
“you like that?” rafe laughs, throwing his head back as he fucks you even harder, showing you no mercy as he works himself up to orgasm. you feel tears fall from your eyes at the hard thrusts, but you ignore it in favor of bringing a hand down to rub your clit, trying to time your orgasm to the same time as rafes. you can tell from his pulsating cock that it’s not going to be long until he’s spilling inside of you.
“close.” rafe warns, and you aren’t far behind. the second you feel his cum start to spurt inside of you, you also fall, burying your face in his shoulder as you moan, unconcerned with your noise level.
“that’s it.” rafe says, rubbing a hand up and down your bare back as shivers overtake your body. he slowly thrusts until he’s completely spent, before gently slipping out of you, knowing his cum is without a doubt leaking onto the countertop and floor.
“was that worth it?” you ask, sitting up only to be pulled back in by rafe.
“you’re always worth it, princess.” rafe kisses your forehead. “now why don’t i undress and we fuck in the shower? then again on the bed?”
you give rafe an exasperated look.
“what?” he says. “we have to make the most out of the evening!”
865 notes · View notes
yxngbxkkie · 22 days
Text
long-distance (b.c)
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i saw an edit of chan from channie's room, and i had come up with this idea for him. i want and need this man so much, he's so fucking PRECIOUS 🥹 anyway, i hope you guys like it 🩷🩷
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
Two minutes after you open your laptop, a video call from Chan appears. A smile graces your lips as you answer it with no hesitation. It gets bigger when his face appears on screen.
“Hi, baby,” he smiles at the camera, his dark eyes checking every inch of your face.
It's been almost a month since the two of you have video chatted. Especially with Chan being busy with schedules.
“Hi, my baby,” you greet him, leaning your chin on the palms of your hand. “How are you?”
Chan leans back in his chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “It was okay. It was kinda busy, but it wasn't unbearable,” he mentions to you.
You pout, wishing you could give him a tight hug. “I'm sorry, baby. The good news is that you have your vacation coming up!” You attempt to cheer him up, wanting to relieve his stress a little.
“I do, yes! I'm super excited about it,” he tells you, clasping his hands together. “Speaking of vacations, I have a surprise.”
“What is it?” You ask him with wide eyes, watching him get up from his desk. Chan walks off the screen, and you're curious as to what his surprise is.
You tap your fingers on your cheek, hearing your phone vibrate against the desk. Before you have the chance to look at it, your boyfriend comes back on screen.
“Okay! So, I just sent you something,” he giggles, shaking the phone in his hand.
“I'm nervous,” you chuckle while grabbing your phone. You open Chan's text to see a link. You furrow your brows, quickly glancing at him before clicking the link.
Your jaw drops when you see a boarding pass in your name. A boarding pass that leads to South Korea. Your heart beats wildly against your chest as the surprise sets in.
“Chan…” you trail off, tears coming to your eyes. “Are you serious?”
He nods his head, a fond smile on his plump lips. “Of course, baby. It's been two years since I've had you in my arms. I have a week of vacation coming up, and now so do you. Come spend it with me,” Chan explains, his thumbs stroking the back of his hands.
You cover your mouth, holding in your sobs. “Of course I'll come spend it with you,” you tell him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Oh my god. I can't believe this.”
“I can't wait to see you,” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “I can't wait to kiss you.”
You playfully roll your eyes, recalling all the times he's told you how much he's missed kissing you. “Are you buying me a plane ticket just so you can kiss me?” You ask jokingly.
“You know it's not like that!” Chan groans, tilting his head back. “That's just a perk to being your boyfriend.”
“To kiss my lips?” You ask, poking your lips with your finger.
He winks, nodding his head. “You have really pretty lips, baby,” Chan smugly says, biting his lip.
“You know who also has pretty lips,” you mention, smirking at your computer screen. Chan hums in response, tilting his head. “You, baby.”
“Me!? No way,” he scoffs, bringing a hand to his lips to feel him.
You swear the first thing that you do when you see him is slap him. “Yes, you! Your lips are thick, baby. Nice and plump for me to kiss,” you smooch the air, chuckling afterward.
“You're crazy,” he huffs, shaking his head with a smile.
You rest against your hands again, feeling your heart flutter at the sight of him. “Crazy for you,” you smoothly compliment him.
“God, I should've made your flight date earlier,” he mumbles, his hand rubbing his chin. His eyes meet yours, and both of you stare quietly for a few moments. “I need you with me right now.”
You pout again. “I wish I could be there now, but soon enough, I'll be there,” You do your best to reassure him, making a heart with my hands.
He returns the heart, pouting also. “I'm counting down the days,” Chan whispers loud enough for you to hear.
~
Your heart is racing in your chest as you step out of the terminal. Your eyes are quickly looking around to find Chan. You stand on your toes, releasing a quiet gasp when you spot him.
“Baby!” You call out, not wanting to gain attention for shouting his name.
Chan hears your voice, quickly turning his head in your direction. The two of you run to each other, avoiding the other travelers around you.
You crash into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan slides his hands across your lower back, pressing you against him. You hide your face in his neck, trying your best not to cry.
“My baby,” he whispers into your ear, rubbing your back gently.
Your fingers run through his hair, pressing light kisses on his neck. “I've missed you so much,” you cry out, gripping onto the hoodie he's wearing.
He pulls back so he can look at you, placing both hands on your cheeks. A few tears run down your cheeks, feeling Chan's thumb wipe them away.
“I've missed you too, baby,” he kisses your forehead.
You leaned on your toes, smashing your lips with his. “I love you,” you mumble into the kiss, petting his fluffy hair.
“I love you,” Chan says, stroking your cheeks.
You hug him tightly again, and the two of you start to sway back and forth. It felt really good to be in his arms again, especially after not seeing each other for two years.
“C'mon, there's a car waiting for us,” he mentions while rubbing your back.
You pull away from each other, and he instantly grabs your hand before leading you towards baggage claim to receive your luggage.
There's a comfortable silence between you both as you walk through the airport. You look at everything around you, trying to spot if you see any words you might recognize from your Korean lessons.
You bite your lip in disappointment, not being able to recognize anything. You rest your head against Chan's arm, squeezing his hand as you take the escalator down to the first floor.
“My Korean lessons aren't helping me,” you pout at him, tilting your head back to look at him.
He giggles while stroking the back of your hand, meeting your gaze. “No? Why do you say that?” He asks, both of you stepping off the escalator. “Whenever we try to converse in Korean, it sounds good!”
“Yeah, but I can't read anything,” you huff out, releasing your own giggle.
Chan leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Don't worry, baby, I'll read it for you. You just stand here and look pretty,” he taps your nose before going to grab your suitcase.
“When did you get so smooth?” You ask him, biting your lip again as you go to follow him.
He comes back with your suitcase, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you. I'm just really excited that you're here,” Chan mentions, grabbing a hold of your hand again. “Now, let's go get you something to eat.”
~
tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n
438 notes · View notes
harrysbabycherry · 1 month
Note
would love to read a blurb where harry was seen in public for the first time at his appearance yesterday after it was announced he became a dad (in the pictures yesterday i just see harry as a dad omg) 🫶🏼
I got this like a week ago, so sorry it’s late but she’s here and it’s cute! I hope this is what you meant! It’s very very cute so you’ll probably like it anyway! I don’t think I’ve written dadrry for you all yet so enjoy ☺️ thank you for the request!!!
wc: 1.7k
warnings: none! dadrry! me doing anything i can not to have to give this baby a name! (the pic has nothing to do with the plot of it, i just think it’s fcking funny) enjoy!!!
three months
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It was Harry’s first time out of the house in months and not exactly his choice either.
Three months had passed since he went out anywhere. Three months since the second love of his life came to join him. And he hadn’t left the house since they arrived back from the hospital.
Well, technically he did. He went to the studio, he went to meetings, only ones that were mandatory of course, and that was pretty much it. If it wasn’t something he had to do, he stayed home. There was nothing else he felt the need to leave for because everything he needed was in one place. That’s the argument he tried to use with (Y/N) but she wasn’t having it and sent him on his way.
Apparently, he needed social interaction outside of the house with people who could actually talk and (Y/N) had surprised him with tickets to a football match. He hadn’t been in a while and it was something he enjoyed but he would still rather stay home.
He was least prepared for the cameras in his face, watching his every move. Everyone seemed to be smiling, overjoyed that he decided to show his face in public after he’d been cooped up in the house. But he just tried to act like he was seconds from sprinting out of the stadium and to his car.
The match had just started and he was still saying his hellos to everyone that he passed as he made his way to his seat. He’d met up with a few of his mates and sat down beside them. He tried to focus on their lives and how they had been since he last saw them, but as soon as they asked how he was, he was pulling his phone out and showing anyone who would pay attention his new baby that now absolutely flooded his camera roll.
When the conversation died down in favor of watching the match directly in front of him, he decided to check on (Y/N).
Harry: How’s it going?
(Y/N): Good. Watch the game.
He couldn’t help smiling. She really wanted him out of the house. Even (Y/N) had a day off. He insisted on it. He sent her to a spa with one of her best friends just to give her some time away and he got to spend all day with the baby and it was just a dream. No matter the crying and the fussing, he loved every second of being a dad, and if he played his cards right, (Y/N) would give him another baby. Because one wouldn’t be enough. Two wouldn’t either but he doesn’t want to push his luck with her.
He sat in his seat, not feeling bothered to converse much with those around him. They were all old time friends and all easy to talk to but he couldn’t think about anything other than what (Y/N) might be up to.
Harry: How’s baby?
He has to ask. He doesn’t want to miss a second and now that (Y/N) has sent him out, he feels like he won’t be there for something important.
(Y/N): Sleeping.
Harry: How’s mummy?
She doesn’t answer for a long moment and he knows he should be paying attention to the field because he’s certain the camera is panning to him every free second of the match and he doesn’t want to look uninterested at all. But he just can’t wait for it to be over.
(Y/N): Stop staring at your phone and watch the game.
He replies seconds later.
Harry: How do you know I’m looking at my phone?
(Y/N): I’m watching you, idiot. Put it away.
Harry: So you get to watch the game from home then? Is that how it is?
(Y/N): Stop whining and stop texting me.
He sighed and put his phone away just like she asked. He tried to get into the game now because if that will satisfy her, he’ll do it. And then maybe he won’t have to leave the house for another three months.
It’s just that he doesn’t want to miss anything. Even if the baby is just sleeping or taking a bottle, he doesn’t want to be anywhere that’s not right next to (Y/N), even if it’s the most boring task in the world.
He tried to chat with those around him to keep his spirits up. Not that he was sad but he just wanted to be at home.
By the time the second half came around, he’d not checked his phone once. So, maybe he did get a little distracted by the game. There were a few close calls that had him up out of his seat but that was the most he did.
Harry: Everything good?
He chuckled to himself when the text bubble popped up, telling him that she was writing something back. He knew he was testing her by sending another message but he hadn’t been out of arm’s reach in so long, he didn’t know how to act without her beside him.
(Y/N): Yes.
Harry: Can I come home now?
The game was coming to a close and he knew he should stay until the end, just to be polite, but he couldn’t sit still knowing that he was here and they were so far away.
(Y/N): You’ve been gone for like two seconds.
Harry: Miss you so much :(
(Y/N): Fine.
Harry wanted to keep it quiet so he just whispered to one of his mates that (Y/N) needed him home for something and that it wasn’t anything serious, she just needed him to do something. Which was a lie but she’s not here to tell anyone it’s not, so he goes with it and makes sure to let everyone know what a wonderful, eventful time he had. And then he was gone, happy to have beat the crowds and the traffic.
As soon as he turned the lock, he was hurrying off to find (Y/N). She was in the kitchen with a spoonful of yogurt to her mouth, almost looking disappointed.
“What’s the point of sending you out if you’re just going to beg to come back home?”
“Told you it was a mistake,” His arms wrapped around her from behind before he kissed her cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here. Okay?”
She sighed, tilting her head to rest against his. “Fine.”
“Now, where’s my boy?”
(Y/N) barely finished telling him that he was upstairs before he took off, taking the steps two at a time to go check on the baby. He was probably sleeping but that was fine. All Harry wanted to do was look at him anyway.
To his surprise, he was awake, quietly stirring in his crib, and blinking up at him. A sleepy smile made its way to his mouth before he was cooing something that Harry couldn’t understand quite yet.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m home,” Harry quickly shrugged out of his coat and set it aside so he could stand over the crib again. He held one hand down for him to latch onto, which immediately went to his mouth, but Harry didn’t care. “Nice nap?”
Of course, he didn’t get a response except for a hum against his finger that was now being drooled on. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait any longer to hold him in his arms, so he carefully lifted him until he was resting against his chest. And then he made his way to the comfortable rocking chair right beside the crib.
He’s fallen asleep here more times than he can count. With the baby resting on his chest and an empty bottle in his hand or alone, with his peacefully asleep in his crib, not wanting to leave his side, in case he wakes up crying again.
Harry thought he was very prepared when the baby came. He’d read books and went to each and every appointment with (Y/N). He asked countless questions to the nurses and doctors and specialists and even some hypothetical questions that had (Y/N) shaking her head at him with a smile.
But the truth is, when he rushed (Y/N) to the hospital that fucking freezing day in November, he had no idea just how unprepared he was. He was a wreck. Watching (Y/N) writhe in pain for hours did nothing to settle him. He tried to keep the mood light but he was so incredibly nervous to meet his son, he couldn’t sit still, even when (Y/N) asked him, more kindly than she should’ve, to stop pacing the room.
And when he was placed in Harry’s arms for the first time, it was love at first sight. He’d do anything for this baby. Anything. For as long as he lived and at the thought of that, he had to have his mum take the baby so he could cry into his hands in the hallway.
It was emotional to say the least. He made sure he was there for (Y/N) who was completely overwhelmed and tired but still had the energy to gawk at their new baby with him. He was perfect. A mix of the two of them done so excellently that he really couldn’t believe his eyes.
He was in shock for about three days. Even more so when they brought the little one home with the promise to take care of him forever.
He still couldn’t believe he was a dad. And sitting here now, after only being away from him for two hours, Harry feels his eyes welling all over again.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” He rushed to say.
(Y/N) is standing in the hallway, with a yogurt cup still in her hand, grinning at him.
“Okay. You never have to leave again.”
“Thank god. Come here, please.”
With his free hand, he patted his knee and he pulled her into his side, hugging her as tightly as he could.
There really was no reason for him to leave, he had everything he needed right here.
tags: @vamprry @1un4zsq @marzhshaim @sunflowersloverr @tenaciousperfectionunknown @caynonmoondreams @elidoho @peterbenjaminparke07 @daydreamingofmatilda @kissitnhekitchen @amberbambridge @danaehldy @straightontilmornin @forgetdelaney @harrysonlylover @idrawshapesonpeople07 @me-undiscovered @llina01 @80s-outsiders @littlenatilda @outofthisworl-d @butdaddyilovehim-hs @cherrys4suckers @harrystylessslut @sceleratuspoeta @hssunflowervol6 @indierockgirrl @honeyharlows @satellitelh @daphnesutton @tfharries @opheliaofficial07 @hermionelove @nathalielovesonedirection @velvetballaspark @watermelonlover @kathb59 @theofficialprongs @myloveforrreadingspost @harryshousewhore @harrysolaf @szoszi2004 @buckyssbestgirl @ellaorchard @trooooye @daylighthazzz @prettytulips @stylesfever @mayamonroem @fake-coolbeans
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h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3 · 2 months
Text
your friend isn't always a genius
request
dom! aaron hotchner x brat reader
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summary: Aaron's been on a case for to long reader decideds to be a brat but he gets home sooner than expected, turns out aaron got some advice from his friend.
warnings: use of y/n, masturbat!on fem, consensual voyeurism, being a brat, punishments, recording, daddy kink, mentions of spencer reid
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it's been almost two weeks since aaron went on a case. it wasn't anything major, but with the towns police hindering the investigation due to a lack of knowledge and experience, he's had to stay longer than planned.
you know you can't blame aaron for being on a case, but having a break in routine always results in you bratting. so honestly, he shouldn't have expected less.
you currently sat on your knees infront of your full body mirror dressed in only a pair of pretty pink lace panties and one of aarons sleep shirts, taking pictures that you knew you'd get in trouble for. it didn't matter tho, you loved aarons punishments. you loved the way his hand felt when he spanked your ass or when you'd go brain dead from him fucking you so good. if you were being honest it was one of your favorite things.
sending the pictures to aaron you sit and wait for him to see it. it's around nine, and he's usually in the hotel by now unless they had a break in the case. you check and seeing that he read the text you pussy dampened and your heart speed up. waiting for a reply you sit there, and sit there, and sit. it's about 5 minutes when you decide to call him.
the phone ringing 3 times before he answers. 'hey sweetheart' he answers like he would normally. 'why didn't you answer my text?' you question, opting out of a greeting. 'because your not supposed to do that' he replys plainly. 'so? what you were just gonna ignore me?' you ask him letting your voice raise.
' I was' aaron says as if it's a normal thing.
' you never ignore me ' you say pouting as if he could see you. ' and you continue to be a brat. ya know spencer and I got the talkin and he said that if someone constantly has the same punishment every time they acted out, it'd become less effective.' he states, making you wonder what in their conversation made them talk about this and why he thought it pertained to you.
because it does.
'and? the fuck does that mean aaron?' you pout feeling the urge to really pass him off now. I mean if he was gonna change up punishments you can change up what your getting punished for.
'watch it' he warns urging you to not play this game. decideding he was beyond wrong and that you'd not only play this game, but win. you hung up the phone, removing your underwear you sat up the camera to where your pussy was on full display. hitting record, you let your fingers travel down your cheest, over your stomach past your clit collecting all of your juices on your fingers. bringing then back up to your clit you make eye contact with your camera as you start to play with your pussy.
moaning at the pleasure, you couldn't deny how good it felt, but you also couldn't deny how much it felt nothing like aaron. bringing your fingers down to your entrance, sliding them in as your eyes roll back and toes curl.
'oh fuck it feels so good' you moan out. you continue to fuck yourself on camera for about five minutes before you realize something. 'fuck I can't cum' you groan out. not knowing why but still wanting to win. so you crop the last bit of the video and send aaron the gold parts.
confused on why it's been five minutes of really good pleasure, and yet you haven't cum yet. you decided to get a toy, recording yourself play with it for a while before groaning and giving up at the same out come.
editing that video and again sending only the good parts you guessed that you must have became camera shy out of nowhere. so you play with your pussy while the camera isn't on. you try everything in the span of 6 hours, reaching for your phone at hour 3 to watch porn because maybe you need a little help.
which lead to realizing aaron once again left you on read.
you genuinely felt as though you could cry now. that's when the realization hits you. you've must of been so hardwired to aaron that it's impossible for you to cum without him now.
feeling angry, not necessarily at aaron, but at the fact that he probably knew you couldn't come without him, that's probably why he was okay with ignoring you.
getting cleaned in the bathroom before going back to the bedroom with a frown on your face, you let out a huff as you plopped on the bed.
waking up the next morning, you check your phone. feeling your heart drop and crawl it's self back in place you read the one message from aaron. sent hours after you went to bed, about 1 a.m., telling you how they had a break in the case and caught the guy in the act. which means he'd be home anytime today.
that'd usually make you ecstatic, but with aarons newfound discovery of ignoring you only God knows what your punishment will be.
you spend the day cleaning the apartment, cooking aaron his favorite meal, even going as far as making brownies. also thinking it was better to clean the whole apartment too just in case.
almost perfectly on time, when you're taking the brownies out, aaron walks through the door. 'hey baby' he greets, walking over to hug you. "at least he's not that mad" you think to yourself. 'hi' you reply shyly, letting your head rest on his chest.
you've missed this, and if kinda makes you feel bad for being a brat. looking around the kitchen, aaron smiles fondly at the food you prepared. then picks you up whole he spins to look at the whole apartment, he knows it's because you didn't expect him home so soon after acting out, but he still loves it.
'enjoy the time you have sugar, cause after we eat your ass is done for' he smiles grabbing a handful of your ass and pecking your lips, before letting you down and making his way to the table.
let let out a groan, but honestly expecting that food and dessert wasn't gonna save you from your punishment.
your weren't that hungry so you finished before aaron. as soon as the last piece was gone from his plate, you shot up to start cleaning the kitchen. 'Ah, that can wait baby' aaron tells you as he gets up from the table and motions for you to follow. 'what? noo, I got it' you answer starting to wash the dishes.
aaron walked behind you, an amused smile on his face. which goes away after he sees that your purposely washing slowly 'the longer you take on the dishes, the more time is added to your punishment' he says, making you drop the fork out of your hands. 'what? that's not fair'. you try to argue only for aaron to turn around and make his way to your shared room.
saying fuck it you decided not to do the dishes and follow him to the room. 'you done?' he asks 'fuck you, yes' you reply. making him laugh while he sat on the edge of the bed.
'get undressed baby' aaron commands you. decideding to choose your battles wisely and not have you outfit ripped apart, knowing aaron is not only good for buying clothes but destroying them, you undressed.
moving over, you sit in the center of the bed like he always tells you. waiting for him to say something you patently wait playing with your fingers.
he gets up from the edge of the bed and turns to you 'had fun without me?' your boyfriend asks you. 'not at all daddy, it was so boring' you answer back. ' so glad your back now' you add smiling up to him.
he lets out a loud laugh at your answer. 'seems to me you had all the fun in the world' aaron says. shacking your head no, while he shakes his head yes 'I know you did baby and it's okay.' he speaks as he makes his way to the chair in your room. 'how many times did you cum?' he ask while getting comfortable.
'don't ask me that daddy' you groan. he chuckles while un doing his tie. 'you don't want to tell me baby?' he questions. Shacking your head no he just smiles at you before speaking 'go ahead nd show me baby'.
confusion feels your body as aaron watches you from across the room. 'what?' you whispered, silently praying that you misheard him.
'baby I want you to play with your pussy while I watch' he admitted as if it was a mundane request. 'show me what you did while I was gone' he told you with a smirk.
shacking your head no, you desperatly thank of anything to get you out of this. 'that's so embarrassing daddy' you tell him as you pout.
your pussy is getting wetter by the second but you didnt know if you'd be able to cum. or even worse if you'd be allowed to.
before you could blink aaron got up and exited the room. you were confused to say the least and once he returned with a lighter that confusion only grew.
that was, until he went into your shared closet.
your jaw hit the floor as you see him walk out with one of your favorite pairs of heels. 'aaron what are yo-' 'shh baby' he cuts you off tossing your heels infront of the bed.
'they're just encouragement' he says as he reclaims his seat, lighter in hand 'but know that you'll be punished one way or another' he says plainly.
letting out a whine 'this isn't fair' you tell him wich in return earns you an eye roll. '10 minutes' he speaks. 'huh?' you question '10 minutes' he repeats.
'10 minutes to cum or you'll have 10 minutes to say goodbye to your shoes. you pick.' he clears up slightly shrugging his shoulders.
expecting your embarrassment you lay back down and prop your knees up. 'is that good?' you ask to which you get no reply. you drag two fingers through your slit and to your entrance. collecting your juices before letting them dip in.
you let out a moan, letting your body relax as you bring your finger out and back in. you cant lie about how good it feels, humiliation and all.
dragging your fingers out you bring them to circle your clit. you look at aaron and notice his intense gaze on your pussy in return you let out a whine and feel your pussy clamp around nothing.
you speed up your fingers and bring your other hand up to grope your breast. surprisingly to you, you can feel your orgasm building up.
adding more pressure to your clit to chase your orgasm it seems to finally click for aaron that your about to cum. to say you could see the disappointed on his face would be an understatement, "ill let her have this tho" , he thought to himself.
your shut your eyes as tight as they could as your feel the coil in your abdomen burst 'oh fuck daddy' you moan out as your orgasm washes through you.
breathing deeply as your legs twitched you finally opened your eyes to see your boyfriend on his phone. 'aaron what the fuck are you doing' you question as you see him typing away.
he barley spears you a glance before going back to typing and saying 'spencer said you wouldn't be able to cum on your own by now'
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tag : @jxvipike
a/n☆ this is the 3rd version of this story bc tumblr deleted the other two 😺 not proof read, so mb for any mistakes😻😽 - daisy
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tsimvkas · 19 days
Text
and for my husband… — mason mount
A/N: this is based on how i think mason would react to that husband trend on tiktok. let me know if you’d like me to write this with different players!
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“I think I’ll go for a veggie burger and fries today bae, what do you want?” you asked Mason, who was comfortably curled up on the passenger seat of your car.
You know training has been harder for him lately, trying to prove he’s ready to come back, and when he asked you if you could pick him up you didn’t hesitate.
You are used to him coming back starving, so you decided to make a stop to order you both something since it was Friday night and you didn’t want to cook.
“Can you choose for me?” his groggy voice made you smile, and you scratched his scalp, softening at how he melted against the seat.
“Are you allowed to eat anything tonight? When was your last day off?”
“Two weeks ago” he yawned, opening his eyes to stare at you.
“Burger and milkshake then” you smiled, now stroking the hand he was resting on your thigh. Your boyfriend looked really tired, and you almost gave up on recording what you wanted.
It was a silly trend from TikTok where girlfriends were calling their boyfriend’s “husband” to see their reaction and you had the camera settled since you picked him up at Carrignton, but you weren’t expecting Mase to be practically napping in the car.
You spent the afternoon preparing yourself, and now you just wanted to call him like that — either it was recording or not. You just wanted to tell another person like ‘hey, my husband’, and you felt so silly about it, but before you could think any more it was your turn in line.
“Good night” you greeted the cashier. “Can I have the veggie burger, fries and a Coca Zero, please? Oh, and a brownie too”
“Anything else?” he gently smiled, and without looking at Mason you kept talking.
“Uhm and for my husband it’ll be a cheddar burger and a vanilla milkshake” you shyly said, unintentionally lower than your own order.
Later that night, you saw in the video how Mason instantly opened his eyes, sitting straight with a confused expression.
“Bro. Did you hear that?” Mase asked the cashier, his hand on your seat so he could lean forward.
“I’ve heard that” he laughed, amused by Mason’s reactio, and nodded..
“I thought you were sleeping?” you unpretentiously said, looking at your boyfriend’s face that was close to yours. Mason turned his head towards you and pecked your lips before talking to the cashier again.
“Wait buddy, add a milkshake and double fries for my wife, please” he smiled, and you could feel your cheeks burning. The word sounded pretty on his voice, and you felt a different level of love for him — need, desire, adoration.
“You don’t need to- I really thought you were sleeping”
“Husbands don’t sleep. Husbands keep an eye on everything” he pointed but you just rolled your eyes and tried to hand the cashier your credit card, but he took it from you. “No, no, husbands pay everything too”
“Mason!” you burst into a fit of giggles when he leaned over your lap and tapped his card against the reader.
He turned his face back at you and gave you a flat look. “Who’s Mason? I only know husband”
“Fine. You’re being silly, husband” you smiled.
“Bro!” Mason half screamed, half giggled, and the cashier laughed loudly, seeming to be having so much fun.
“Man! I definitely heard that” he hyped up Mason. “Here, Mrs. Husband, the receipt”
“Thank you” he chuckled, sitting back on his seat, his hand instantly resting on your thigh whilst you drove to take your order. “Husband, uh?”
“It was supposed to be boyfriend, guess it just slipped” you shrugged, trying to play it cool, but Mason squeezed your waist to make you look at him.
“No, I like the sound of it” he curled up again, his touch never leaving your skin. “Guess I’ll just have to give you the ring earlier”
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fxrmuladaydreams · 3 months
Text
choices and livestreams (sv5) (dr3)
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pornstar!seb x pornstar/camgirl!reader , pornstar!daniel x pornstar/camgirl!reader
summary: seb wants you back in his life, but have you already put him in the past?
notes: i know i said no more posts until after the holidays but i got this done early so here it is, also i felt bad leaving you with the carlos angst then saying peace out
warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! masturbation (m & f), sex toys (dildos)
prev part next part
Sebastian sat at his computer and watched as Daniel played with you. He brought you over the edge again and again and again, and Sebastian couldn’t even get hard. He tried to tease himself, to slowly stroke his cock up and down, when that didn’t work he tried just wrapping his hand around himself and just jerking himself off, but still nothing.
The only parts where he would feel himself twitch with interest was when you had the vibrator taped to your leg. His cock would stiffen as he watched you come undone, then immediately soften when Daniel walked back into the shot.
He groans as he rests his head on his desk. He glances back up at the screen when you scream out during your last orgasm. He feels himself stiffen as the camera moves to show all of your release leaking out of you. He could get off if he just replays this four second clip over and over.
His jaw clenches when he hears Daniel’s voice.
“You were so good for me, my good little bunny.”
His words make Sebastian want to throw his computer against a wall.
He rolls his eyes as he sees all of the likes the video has, but feels a sense of pride wash over him at some of the comments.
where is sebastian?
daniel fucks her fine, but sebastian really knew how to wreck her
this will be fine to jerk off to until we get more videos with bunny and sebastian
Sebastian glances at his phone next to him. For what must be about the twentieth time today, he thinks about texting you. You’ve gone radio silent since leaving his house last week, and he’s started to really miss having you around.
He types out a quick text, just something saying hello, and that he enjoyed your video with Daniel. He stares at it for a moment, then huffs and deletes the message. He very much did not enjoy your video with Daniel. And what kind of masochist would he be if he told you he enjoyed watching someone else fuck you?
His phone buzzing pulls his thoughts away from you. There’s a notification from the girl he had recently filmed with. It’s got a link to their mew video, and a few flirty emoji’s.
He feels his stomach churn, remembering their filming day. It didn’t come as easy as filming with you did. She was trying way too hard to please him, and he seemed out of it almost the entire time, but with some skillful editing it made a half decent video.
He swipes the notification away, and opens your messages again.
Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a bit, how is everything?
He presses send before he can overthink it, deciding that even a sliver of attention from you is enough to make up for any consequences that could come from trying to get closer to you again.
You’re with Daniel when you see the text from Seb. He’s leaning back on his couch, with you sitting between his legs, your back resting against his chest. He’s got an arm thrown over your shoulder, while his other hand draws patterns along your arm. He put on a movie for the two of you to watch, something that you really hadn’t been paying much attention to.
Daniel doesn’t want to seem nosy, but the scowl on your face is worrying, especially because you’ve been staring at your phone for the past few minutes.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, shifting slightly.
You shake your head and sigh. “Nothing.” You toss your phone to the other end of the couch and bury yourself further into Daniel’s chest.
“C’mon sweetheart, I can tell something’s bothering you.” He says.
“It’s nothing. Seb just texted me.” You tell him quietly, your eyes locked onto his tv.
“And it was a bad text?” He strokes your cheek softly.
You turn so that you’re now laying on him, chest to chest.
“He said he hasn’t heard from me in a while and wants to know how everything is.”
Daniel hums. “And how is everything? If one were to want to know.” He feins disinterest in your answer, but holds his breath waiting for a response.
You slowly start to smile. “Everything is going well, I think.”
He lets out a breath and flashes you his own grin. “Good, I’m glad.”
You spend the evening with Daniel, cuddled up on his couch. You try to focus on him, but you just keep thinking about Seb. He’s made himself within reach again, but it could end up the same way it did last time. Is risking your blossoming relationship with Daniel really worth taking that chance?
A part of you feels guilty when he asks if you want to stay the night and you turn him down. You can see the disappointment flash across his face, but he quickly hides it.
You bid him goodnight with a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving him alone as you drive back to your own home. You throw your things down on your couch and pull your phone out of your pocket as you make your way to your room.
You type out a reply to Sebastian, then set your phone face down on your desk.
I’m good, how are you? I can’t really talk right now, I’m about to film a livestream.
It’s meant to be a harmless text, but a part of you knows that you want his attention.
You change into a pretty baby pink lacy lingerie set. You set up your camera and laptop and check to make sure you’re camera ready. You start your stream and watch as your usual viewers start to join. You make a few flirty comments, telling them how much you missed them.
Sebastian doesn’t seem to join, or maybe just hasn’t read your text, so you start with your stream without him. You tease yourself through your underwear, letting out breathy moans when your fingers brush against your clit.
You pull your panties to the side and push a finger inside of yourself. It does almost nothing for you, so you push a second in as well. It’s not at all comparable to Seb or Daniel, but your viewers seem to be enjoying it from the tips they send you.
After a few minutes you pull your hand away from your cunt and reach next to you for a dildo. You’re drawn to your purple one, the length reminding you of how deep Sebastian was able to push inside you. But you spot your blue one too, the girth would stretch you out and really give your viewers a show.
You hold the blue toy in front of your camera, showing it to your audience.
i can’t wait to watch her fall apart on that dick
there’s no way she’ll be able to take that
You set the dildo up on your floor and raise yourself above it. Your eye catches a comment before you lower yourself down.
be a good bunny schatz - sebv
You flush at the comment. A new wave of arousal rushes through you as you lower yourself onto the silicone toy. It’s a struggle to take it, the head stretching you out more than you have before. The pain quickly turns into pleasure as you ease yourself lower and lower on the toy, until it’s fully sheathed inside you.
You pause as you look back up at your camera. You look wrecked already, your eyes half lidded as your mouth hangs open.
“‘S so big.” You moan.
You read another comment from your computer that makes you clench around the toy.
such a good bunny, taking that dick all the way inside you. now bounce on it sweetheart - dannyric
You bounce up and down on the dildo, moaning out as it stabs at your soft spongey spot over and over again. Tears fall from your eyes, the pleasure is too much.
“Please, please, may I cum? I want to cum so bad!” You beg.
You don’t know who you’re asking, you mind far too cloudy to be thinking straight, but your eyes search for the two usernames that send you over the edge.
cum for me bunny - sebv
you’re so pretty when you beg, you can cum now bunny - dannyric
You cry out as you reach your peak, your body losing control, and all sense of pace as you ride the toy through your orgasm.
You clench around it as tips come flooding in. You slowly lift yourself off it, whimpering at the empty feeling between your legs. The dildo is coated in your milky white release. You lift it up and lick a long stripe up the side, moaning at the taste of yourself.
You flirt a little more with your viewers, then say goodbye and end your stream.
The clean up process is lonely, you try to keep your balance as you lean against your bathroom counter, wiping up the mess between your legs. You change out of your lingerie and throw it in your laundry pile. You reach for a sweater in your closet, but pause when you see what’s before you.
Folded on one of the shelves is Seb’s sweatshirt, the one he let you use the first time you filmed with him. The grey fabric is soft between your fingers, begging to wrap you up and keep you warm.
Hanging up on the rack is Daniel’s hoodie. He insisted that you hold onto it for a while after your night at the diner. It still smells like his cologne, well his cologne and a slight smell of the diner food you shared with him.
Your heart aches as you look back and forth between the pieces of clothing. You reach out and grab a sweater of your own, refusing to make any decisions tonight.
You grab your phone from your desk to see two text notifications.
From Seb
That was a fun livestream schatz, you really know how to put on a show
From Daniel
You could’ve done your livestream at my house sweetheart, I would’ve enjoyed a live show
You leave both boys on read, and climb into your bed. You hope that tomorrow you’ll have a clearer mindset about what to do next.
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huskystar77 · 3 months
Text
“I already have a girlfriend, so stop asking me.”
“Oh you do? Congratulations Itoshi! Who is it?”
“Who is it Rin?”
“Who’s the lucky girl Rin?”
A bother. Rin thought saying something like that would get those damn reporters off his back. Why do they care so much if he has a girlfriend or not? He doesn’t even want one. But somehow not having one is worse than having one.
It may be best just to continue with the charade. Maybe having an actual real person to be his girlfriend would make them stop asking stupid fucking questions.
“Her.” He points to someone, a pretty girl he’s seen quite a few times. He knows her as a journalist for the Blue Lock organization, but he never cared to learn her name.
Seemingly, Rin’s charade worked. The reporters left him alone after that, finally allowing him to exist in peace.
However, Rin was not prepared for the aftermath of articles being sent to him, a meeting with his coach where he was considerably reprimanded, and a barrage of texts and calls from more reporters trying to get the latest gossip on the most famous striker in the world’s new relationship with a hot older journalist.
So he finds himself in her office the next day, his head down as she too reprimands him for involving her in this in the first place.
“That being said, it would make my ex jealous.” She states, leaning back in her office chair as if she’s a principal scolding a student.
And then the charade deepened, drawing new fans to the soccer scene who were just dying to obsess over a player x journalist fantasy romance story. Suddenly Rin realized he had caused the exact opposite of what he wanted, and now he has more reporters on his ass than ever. Who would have guessed that having a relationship would be worse for him than not having a relationship?
“You have to at least look like you want to be around me. People are wondering if we got in a fight.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at a picture from a newly released article on the two of them. Rin stands at least 4 feet away from her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his gaze directed toward the ground.
“I went out with you. That’s not enough?” Rin rolls his eyes.
“No! We have to also look like we’re in a relationship!” She raises her voice, but drops it again when she realizes she may have been too harsh. “Just, you know, hold my hand or something.”
The normally expressionless striker suddenly finds himself beat red with his eyes wide. “Y-yeah. I get it.”
His fake girlfriend stares him down, refusing to let the short display of emotion pass them by. “Rin, have you ever done anything with a girl at all?”
“No.” He answers honestly.
“Ah, I see.”
That’s when she realized she’ll be taking the lead on this “relationship”. She finds herself both planning and coaching Rin through their “dates” and other public appearances, doing her best to prepare him for any questions they may be asked.
Maybe she’s taking this too seriously, but now they’re too deep to suddenly back out. She just has to go with it, wait at least a few months until she can announce a “breakup”. Hopefully then, that’ll be the end of it.
“I just want to let you know, it’s looking like at some point someone will ask you to kiss me for the camera.” She says, drawing her conclusion after reading the latest scoop on the two of them.
“I’ll just say no.”
“You’d refuse to kiss the girl you’re in love with?”
Rin pauses. “Hmph.” He understands his predicament.
“I figured we could just practice here, you know, since you’ve never done it before. That way you’re prepared.” She finds her cheeks growing redder, trying not to let the bottled up feelings from the last couple weeks get to her at a time like this.
It’s the same for Rin, who looks to the floor, the ceiling, and anywhere else besides her pretty eyes. Kissing her may be all it takes for him to acknowledge that maybe this isn’t as fake as he thought.
“Yeah. I guess that’s fine.” He finally answers.
So she balls her fists together, forcing herself to be mature about a measly kiss. “Look at me.”
He looks up with his eyes, though doesn’t raise his head.
So she lifts his head with her finger, just enough to bring it at an angle where she can meet his lips. He’s much taller than her, after all.
“Okay, just, close your eyes.” She whispers, they’re close enough now where she can hear his heart thumping and every short breath that escapes his slightly parted mouth.
Rin obliges, handing control over to his fake girlfriend, leaving his hands resting at his sides. He doesn’t know exactly what to do with them.
And she kisses him, just a lingering, closed-mouth peck. Her lips are so soft and warm, much different than kissing her cheek like he’s been doing for pictures. Even though it’s short, Rin can feel her hot breaths against his face.
“That was pretty good. There’s not much to it.” She says quietly, finding herself unable to move her hand away from its position under his chin.
“Hm.” Rin responds, his gaze still focused on the floor.
“Do you need to try again?” She asks, wondering if his lack of expression is due to him just not getting it.
“No.” He answers flatly.
“Oh.” His answer confuses her. Did he not like it? “Why not?” She can’t help but ask.
“I feel like I won’t want to stop.”
Continued in Part 2.
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loveshotzz · 7 months
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All I Really Want Is You
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older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -
Baby, I’m Yours
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summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.
wc: 8k
warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.
author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡
🌇 <- chapter nine
The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:
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Beginning of August
Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’  had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day. 
It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.
It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.
The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today. 
Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t  need to rest.
The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.
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The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.
Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. 
“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.
“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.
His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it. 
His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you  — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.
“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”
He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him. 
“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.
He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin. 
“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off. 
“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.
“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt  in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”
He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.
“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard. 
“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.” 
“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.
He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap. 
“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.” 
His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.
“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”
“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.
The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.  
Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart. 
Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.
He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.
“Come sleepover?”
The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response. 
“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.
“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go. 
Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.
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It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.
Knock, knock, knock
They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.
“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.
His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.
“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.
He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.
“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”
You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of  forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.
“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.
He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.
“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.
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The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.
Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.
He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle. 
Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you. 
He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.
“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand. 
“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.
“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.
“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.
He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.
“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor. 
Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.
“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”
His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.
“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.
“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.
The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around. 
His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him. 
The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.
“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.
“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.
He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.
 ‘I love you’.
He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.
The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.
Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.
Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.
“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth. 
His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.
You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you. 
“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.
A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.
“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”
His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps. 
Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.
He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him. 
“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”
You want that?
He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.
“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode. 
What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?
“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.
“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”
He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.
He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.
Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again. 
“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.” 
He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch. 
“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.
Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in. 
It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel. 
“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again. 
“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.
His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.
“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh. 
You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips. 
Not yet.
He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.
“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.
“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.
“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.
“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”
He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.
Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.
Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.
Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach. 
The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.
“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.
He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.
“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.
“Yeah?”  His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.
“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.
He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. 
“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size
“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”
Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.
“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”
His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.
“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.
“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’,  rolling his back up in search for more.
“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan. 
“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp. 
He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.
“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.” 
“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”
His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands. 
You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.
“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!” 
“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”
It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him. 
“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs. 
“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill. 
“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.
“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.
“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”
You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been. 
“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable. 
He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty. 
“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten  to say it first. 
One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on. 
He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.
The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this. 
Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break. 
“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.
All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them. 
“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you. 
Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever. 
“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.
Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck. 
It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.
The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass. 
It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.
Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids. 
It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:
“I love you, tough girl.”
🌇 -> epilogue
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beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia
(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)
902 notes · View notes
autisticlancemcclain · 4 months
Text
My Dearest La
Dear La
Lance,
I really hate it when you’re right.
I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.
I miss you.
You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad
The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.
Love,
Warm regards,
Sincerely,
Love,
Keith
———
“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”
The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.
“Yes, Blade?”
Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.
“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”
The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.
“A… favour.”
All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.
The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.
“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”
The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —
“As have you.”
— but his eyes are soft and knowing.
Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.
“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.
And yet.
“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”
“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.
The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”
———
“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.
“Grandfather! You’re well!”
“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.
She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”
He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”
“A letter?”
“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”
“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”
“Pass it along then,” he suggests.
She promises she will.
———
A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”
A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”
A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”
A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”
A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.
———
A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:
“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”
———
A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.
“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.
———
Lance,
I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.
Anyways.
Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.
Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.
I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?
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I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.
I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.
I love you more than the stars
Love, and lots of it,
Keith
———
“Hey, Sedrit.”
His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.
She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.
“What do you want, shithead.”
He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”
“Ugh.”
But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.
“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”
She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.
“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”
———
“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”
“What for?”
“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”
———
“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”
———
“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”
“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”
“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”
———
Lance’s door slide opens.
“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”
Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.
“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.
You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.
He grins.
“What is that?”
“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.
This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.
“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”
When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.
———
Lance, my love,
I know we do not talk about the observation deck.
It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.
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When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.
Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.
Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.
I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.
Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.
Keith
———
Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.
Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.
“Just — one time,” Keith begs.
“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.
“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”
For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.
“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”
Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.
“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.
Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.
———
“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”
“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”
“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”
“…I miss them too.”
———
Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.
You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.
———
My Lance,
I hate it here.
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I miss you.
———
Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.
He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.
———
CLASSIFIED
FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY
BIOMETRICS REQUIRED
WILL SELF DESTRUCT
———
There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.
He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.
———
My love,
Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.
Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —
Naxzela.
It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.
I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.
I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.
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Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.
Naxzela.
———
He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.
———
When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.
It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.
———
The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.
Soon, sweetheart.
He sobs into the half-burned paper.
———
“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”
———
Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.
He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.
“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.
His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.
Well, that simply won’t do.
“Lance, baby, look at me.”
“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”
Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.
“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”
“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.
“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.
He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.
———
all art by @mothmanavenue
concept from this post
598 notes · View notes
sebscore · 1 year
Text
TWITCH WAR
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pairing: lando norris x driver!reader (brief cameos of charles and russell george)
warnings: swearing. rumplestiltskin. mention of george being a war criminal. wetting pants.
author’s note: not my best work, but this has been sitting in my drafts for too long. anyway, enjoy 💖
• • • • • • •
''Do I play with Y/N?'' Lando read the question out loud, seeing it in his comment section. ''Well, she always told me she was very good at like any kind of game and that she would kick my ass, but then I played with her and… let's say she's definitely not as good as me.'' The Brit bragged about his own skills, a smirk forming on his face.
He glanced at the incoming replies from the fans, enjoying their reactions. ''She asked to play together a few weeks ago and we did, but ever since then I haven't dared to play with her again,'' he grinned, ''whenever she asks me now, I just go offline.''
''Oh, she's gonna kill me when she sees this.'' He giggled like a schoolgirl.
She did in fact kill him when the clip of him talking shit was sent to her by fans and even other drivers. Not literally, that wouldn't be a good career move, but she took to Twitter to indirectly respond to Lando's ''claims''.
YourUsername: people, don't take the words of twinks seriously 😫
Y/N's clapbacks didn't stop there as she went live on Instagram not too long after Lando's Twitch stream. Fans obviously couldn't help but ask about the British driver.
''Do I still want to play with Lando? Nooo~ I don't want to stream with him anymore, I really don't.'' The grin on her face was a dead giveaway she was only teasing him. ''He's super bad, that Rumplestiltskin.''
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''She called me Rumplestiltskin?'' Lando read the comment out loud, his eyebrows furrowed. ''What does that even mean?'' He couldn't really remember where the name came from, so he decided to look it up and was met with the character from Shrek.
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He gave the camera an unimpressed look before moving on. ''You guys want to know a fun story about Y/N from our karting days?'' A smirk already appeared on his face.
''She was pushed off track by someone and she pissed her pants because of it.''
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''It was water! I didn't wet my pants, oh my god!'' The driver exclaimed on stream, not believing that Lando actually told that story. ''We were like 9 years-old.''
''You know, Y/N, I think I also remember that.'' George chimed in, he had been amused by their little Twitch war ever since they started it.
She rolled her eyes upon George's words. ''Hey! It was probably you who pushed me off the track in the first place, you war criminal!'' Y/N clapped back at him.
''Anyway, Lando shouldn't be speaking at all when he still looks and talks like a 9 year-old.''
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''Lando, should we invite Y/N to play with us?'' Charles asked the McLaren driver after seeing countless comments in his chat asking about the female driver.
The Brit loudly sighed, causing the Monégasque to burst out laughing. ''What's wrong, Lando?''
''Because of her, people keep asking me if I've hit puberty yet.'' He said, frustration audible in his voice, much to the entertainment of Charles and everyone else watching him.
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Their ''beef'' came to an end when the media had started to pick up on their back-and-forths and tried to make it seem like the two close friends hated each other and that they would become a danger to each other on track.
''Are you worried that the words you and Y/N have exchanged over social media will have an effect on how the two of you perform on track?'' One reporter asked Lando in a press conference.
He shook his head. ''We're just joking around, honestly. We've been friends for a long time and we've always joked around with each other like this, so, no, it won't have an effect on track.'' He politely answered, slightly ticked off by the seriousness of it all.
Y/N had been placed into a different group for the press conference, where she was asked about their ''war''. ''There have been some harsh word exchanges between yourself and Lando Norris, are you two on good terms or is there some sort of bad blood?''
''Yeah, we hate each other,'' her sarcastic tone sticking out, ''that's why we voluntarily spent all that time together when we're not racing.'' Her answer gathered laughs from her fellow drivers and even some reporters.
''Also, when we're on the topic,'' she stated, ''just because Lando hasn't hit puberty, doesn't mean that I haven't.''
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