#alwfh
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A Long Way From Home (Part 2)
You’re travelling and meet Harry in your hostel when you share a bunk bed in a tiny mixed dorm room. It’s a long week.
READ PART 1 HERE
A/N: ALWFH part 2 is finally here!!! I’m sorry it took me so long but this part is a hefty 9.5k so enjoy!! A huge thank you to my wife/cheerleader @sadwishlist and one of my favourite people on the planet @sleepyeyedstyles for beta reading for me! <3
Warnings: smut, alcohol, anxiety, swearing
“So… you speak Japanese?”
“Oh, yeah, a little.”
“Sounded like more than a little,” you say, placing your elbows on the long dining room table. You take a bite of your cornflakes, raising your eyebrows at Harry for downplaying his understanding of Japanese. There are a handful of other people eating the hostel’s basic breakfast a few seats down from you, but you’re focused entirely on the light green eyes before you. He looks down and blushes, smiling into his toast.
“I picked up a little bit when I was in Japan recently.”
“Nice,” you say. “How long were you there for?”
“A little over a month,” he says into another bite of toast, smearing a bit of jam on the side of his mouth. You have an instinct to reach over and wipe it off for him, but stop yourself before your body can act on the thought. He licks up the jam with the tip of his tongue and then wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand. You look away, thinking about how it’s too early in the morning to think about his tongue. You clear your throat and try to focus on getting to know him a little better. You’ve noticed that he hasn’t really opened up about himself very much, so you find yourself always wanting to know more. He’s got that mysterious, intriguing quality about him that won’t stop drawing you towards him.
“What were you doing there so long?”
“Just travelling around, you know,” he says. You’ve noticed that his answers are often vague, so you try to lightly prod him for some more information.
“What was your favourite place in Japan?” You ask, hoping for a lengthy story that says something about what he likes.
“Probably Tokyo,” he says. You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t say anything more.
“I’d love to go someday,” you say, trying to continue the conversation without feeling like you’re interrogating him. “Any recommendations?”
He hums and thinks for a minute before responding. “Do you like animals?”
You’re a bit thrown by the seemingly random question but don’t hesitate to answer him. “I love them! Except lions, they’re scary.”
“I don’t think you’re very likely to run into one in Japan,’’ he laughs. “I only asked ‘cause seeing the deer in Nara is a must.”
“Ooh, I’ve heard of that!” You respond enthusiastically.
“It’s amazing. There’s so many and they come right up to you,” he says.
“That sounds so cool.”
“It is. And I did a Japanese cooking class that was awesome, so I’d recommend that too.”
“Yum, what’d you make?”
“Okonomiyaki and a killer ramen,” he looks pleased to report.
You beam at him, thrilled that he’s engaging with you and seeming more animated than yesterday. “You’ll have to give me the details of where you went.”
He agrees with a warm smile and then turns the conversation back towards you. You talk about the places you’ve been recently, and discuss the long list of places that you both want to visit in the future. The conversation is so natural and comfortable that you stay there talking until the hostel’s breakfast room is cleared for cleaning. You’re not sure what to do next, so you ask a staffer at the hostel’s front desk. She recommends a few options, but you and Harry decide on Elizabeth Park for its gardens and Vancouver city views. Neither you or Harry have been there, so you get to experience it for the first time together. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t really care where you go or what you do as long as it’s with Harry.
You have to take public transport there, and spend the whole train ride sitting next to Harry with the top of your thigh pressed up against his. You feel like your leg is on fire from the smallest contact, and the fire spreads throughout your body. This isn’t something that usually happens to you – there’s just something about Harry that your body instinctually responds to. The longer you’re sitting next to him, the more you have to stop yourself from pressing your thighs together. It’s something you can ordinarily get away with in public but Harry would definitely notice. You’re a bit annoyed that you’re already itching to touch yourself because of Harry and it’s only mid-morning, but at least you can blame the low hum of vibration tickling your body through the seat from the train’s running engine.
When you finally arrive at the right stop, you leap up from your seat in relief. You see Harry furrow his brow a little but he doesn’t say anything. Walking from the station to the park, you try to steel yourself with several deep breaths of fresh air. You walk with Harry in a comfortable silence and mentally reprimand your body for misbehaving already.
The park is beautiful and rich with colours that shine vibrantly in the sun. Your eyes flit between the soft greens of the flourishing trees above you, to an overgrown patch of violets in every shade of purple and blue you could imagine, to the glimpses of multicoloured roses in various stages of blooming. There are tennis courts with families playing, the odd runner or cyclist, and dogs of all sizes making new friends across the lawn. It feels peaceful and alive in a way that downtown Vancouver didn’t. As much as you love the city, there’s something special about nature that makes you feel happy and at home. Everyone is always in a rush in the centre of cities, hurrying from one place to the next without really looking around - but here, time is irrelevant and you can just enjoy your surroundings without feeling stressed.
You take another deep breath, basking in the feel of the sun pressing down against your shoulders like warm breath across your skin. It’s a pleasant light burn that relaxes your muscles and tugs a smile at your lips, causing Harry to smile at you in response. He can see how much more at ease you are in this environment, even more so than when you went to Stanley Park yesterday.
You continue to walk together in a comfortable silence, and the path that winds around the park and gardens only become more beautiful at every turn of a corner or round of a bend. When you come across an impressive large glass dome of a greenhouse, you’re in awe of how the sunlight reflects off of the interlocking triangular panels of the structure. It somehow manages to look futuristic at the same time as perfectly fitting into the landscape. In front of the building is an array of fountains built into the ground, and you can’t help but giggle as you watch a group of children chasing each other through the water jets. Everything about this place is peaceful yet joyful, and you find yourself more relaxed than you have been in a long time. You almost forget that Harry is next to you, until you turn to find him watching you with a grin on his face.
“What?” You question him. He only shakes his head and mumbles that it’s nothing, walking further down the path ahead of you. You follow him and consider asking him again what his grin was for, but the thought immediately leaves your mind when you see the first view of Vancouver ahead of you. It’s breathtaking, especially on such a bright and sunny day, and it leaves you staring with your mouth agape. You can see downtown, the water, all the way to North Vancouver, and even further to the snowy mountains in the distance. You’ve expected a nice walk in the park and maybe a pretty view, but not this. This - stumbling upon sights that surprise and excite and astonish you - is why you love travelling.
As you look out over the spectacular view of Vancouver with a lovely stranger at your side and a sense of ease in your heart, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. Travelling is a luxury that you certainly haven’t taken for granted, but in moments like this you feel overwhelmed by how lucky you are to have these experiences. You get to see the world, meet new and interesting people, and create memories that will last a lifetime. You get to try new foods, learn about new cultures, and sometimes even jump out of your comfort zone. It can be scary, but it’s worth every minute.
Remembering that Harry is beside you, you try to swallow your emotions and hope that they’re not showing on your face. You’re not upset, just a little dazed by how happy and lucky you feel in this moment. These are the moments that you live for.
“Y’alright?” Harry breaks through your thoughts to ask you. Perhaps you weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you thought.
“Yeah, fine,” you mumble in an unconvincing drawl that causes Harry to furrow his eyebrows at you. But he doesn’t push you on it and accepts that you must not want to talk about whatever was going through your mind.
“Lunch?” He asks and you nod your head with a smile. There’s still quite a bit of the gardens to walk through, so you decide to see the rest and then find lunch after exiting from a different side of the park that you entered from.
The path winds down a steep hill around every type of flower and plant that you can imagine. You stroll slowly to try and take it all in, but there’s so much to see. You don’t know that much about the flora, but it’s pretty to look at. It’s clearly been well designed and carefully maintained to be kept in pristine condition. If you lived here, you’d love to come to these gardens to read or draw for a few hours.
Once you reach the end of the park, you and Harry find a cute little cafe to have some lunch. You both grab some sandwiches and chat about mundane things like the best flavour of milkshake and the best cartoon. Harry’s adamant that the best cartoon is one called Big Mouth, which you can’t argue with since you’ve never seen it, and your choice is the cartoon Daria that you grew up loving. Harry also loves Daria, and mentions that he used to love watching it with his sister Gemma. It’s the first time that he’s mentioned any family members, so you’re a little surprised but do your best to not show it on your face. You want to know more about his family and his life, but you also don’t want to push him away or freak him out. It’s clear to you that’s he’s a very private person and will tell you whatever he’s comfortable with in his own time.
~
You’re pretty exhausted from your lack of sleep and anxiety last night, coupled with the long walk in the sun through Elizabeth Park, so you decide to spend the late afternoon by taking a nap in Harry’s bunk. Once you mention a nap, he agrees that it’s a good idea and then promptly leaves you in the dorm alone. You promise to meet him at the hostel’s downstairs bar area after dinner at 8pm, so you know you have plenty of time to rest and grab some food later. You hate wasting your time in Vancouver like this, but you know that you’re too tired to do anything anyway. You don’t want to push yourself too hard and get sick, like what happened to you when you were travelling in New York City.
As soon as you climb into Harry’s bed, you’re engulfed by the smell of him and the feeling as if he’s there with you. It’s comforting and homely and a little musky, but in a pleasant way. You curl yourself beneath the tangled sheets and breathe deeply into the thin pillow until all of your muscles relax. It doesn’t take long before you fall into a deep sleep.
~
By the time you force yourself out of Harry’s bed and finish a quick dinner from the Tim Horton’s across the street from the hostel, it’s already five to 8. You hurry back to the hostel to meet Harry at the bar, but find the area littered with people. Everyone is animatedly chatting with one another, some holding glasses of beer that they drink in eager gulps. You don’t know any of them, and already feel a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected crowd of people in the small bar area. You’re just deciding whether to abandon your promise to Harry and head back to your room when you feel a light touch on the small of your back. You jump a bit at the feeling of the hand on your back but relax when you turn and see Harry’s vibrant green eyes shining at you. The mostly empty glass in his hand and his slackened eyelids tell you that he’s clearly had at least one drink already.
“You coming?” Harry asks you with a hopeful smile.
“To… where, exactly?” Your eyebrows furrow and you wonder if he told you before your nap and you somehow forgot.
“The pub crawl!” He drawls in an excited tone, prompting a whooping shout from a few people surrounding you.
“Oh- um, I… I dunno,” you say, stammering your words as you think through the unexpected suggestion.
“It’ll be fun!” Harry’s face lights up even more. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he clarifies and lowers the volume of his voice so that only you can hear. “But I want you to come.”
You look into his eyes, seeing the familiar genuine expression paired with a more unfamiliar timidness. You’ve never seen him look even slightly unsure of himself until now.
“Okay,” you say softly in response. If Harry wants you to spend the night with him, then you’re going to say yes even if it pushes you out of your comfort zone. You’ve never been on a pub crawl before, and it makes you nervous. But maybe that’s a good thing - travelling is all about experiencing new things, meeting people and having fun. You’re about to say something more to Harry, but you’re cut off by a booming voice that floats over the crowd in ringing precision.
“Alright, who’s ready for the pub crawl?” You hear, and turn your head to see the tall bearded man who checked you into your room. He has an Irish accent and a warm, laid back smile. “I’m Ben, I’ll be leading us around to the five pubs of the night.” Another whoop breaks out from the group that’s already grown by a few people since you arrived. “I have a map of where we’re going for each of you in case you get lost or want to leave. It’s a half hour per pub, so don’t get too comfortable.” People are starting to talk amongst themselves so Ben raises his voice to make sure he’s heard. “At the bottom of the map you’ll see a band which you can rip off and put around your wrist, it’ll give you 20% off all drinks and one free shot per bar.” A rapturous cheer fills the space, and you can feel the energy of the group prickle your skin like electricity.
You grab a map from Ben and mill out of the hostel’s front doors along with everyone else. You’re heading to a bar called The Tap first, which is only a few blocks away. Most of the group are deep in conversation the whole way there, but you and Harry walk beside each other in silence. You spend the walk listening to two girls behind you conversing in rapid Spanish, only catching a few random words that you know. It’s a good distraction from the constant awareness of Harry’s presence next to you.
When you arrive at the first pub, you head straight for some booth seating near the back. At least half of the group head to the bar for their first round, so you figure that you might as well wait it out as you’ve never been assertive enough to be served quickly at a bar anyway.
Harry slides into the booth beside you, followed by Ben and a few other people that you think you’ve seen at breakfast or in the hostel’s hallways before. Classic rock plays on the overhead speakers, and Harry hums along with it perfectly. His voice is smooth and rich as butter but there’s also something else in his tone that’s raw and real. You can’t imagine how he must sound when he’s probably singing if he sounds this good merely humming. You turn your head to look at him in interest, but he stops humming as soon as he catches your eye.
“What?” He asks. You don’t know how to respond, or what to say, or even exactly what you were thinking. You just found yourself astounded by this mysterious man who you happened to meet by chance and couldn’t stop thinking about. What was it about him? How did he seem so comfortably familiar yet surprise you at every turn?
“Nothing,” you reply, darting your eyes to your lap.
“You alright?” Harry asks into your ear so that the others in the booth can’t hear the question.
“Yeah, fine,” you say, but Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “I’m just a bit tired still, s’all.”
He quirks his lip up and starts to get out of the booth as the people next to him get up to let him out. “I know just the thing.” He heads towards the bar and Ben takes Harry’s spot next to you.
You strike up a light conversation with Ben in Harry’s absence, mostly about how he started working at the hostel and what his favourite places in Vancouver are. When Harry returns, you notice that he’s clenching his jaw and not as relaxed as he was before. He’s holding two drinks and two shots, and you gulp at the ease with which he’s holding so much in his large hands. Harry slides into the booth opposite you and passes over a dark brown drink with a thick layer of white foam resting on top of it. He explains that it’s an Irish coffee which is black coffee with whiskey and sugar mixed into it, to both wake you up and start your night of drinking. A clear liquid in a two shot glasses sit next to the beer that he bought for himself. You thank him profusely for the drink and take a sip of the rich concoction that you hope makes you loosen up for the rest of the night. It’s strong, and not very pleasant, but you happily drink it anyway.
As you slowly enjoy your drink, you talk to Ben and a girl named Sian from Scotland. You don’t talk very much, but you enjoy the easy company and the conversation around you. Across from you, Harry silently nurses his drink and listens. He darts his eyes towards you occasionally and looks as if he’s holding himself back from saying what’s on his mind. You wonder whether he’s thinking about you, because you certainly can’t stop thinking about him.
By the time you’re only halfway through the Irish coffee, you already feel more awake and social. You start to talk to Sian and Ben more, but Harry remains quiet. You try to include him in the conversation, but his mind seems a bit far off.
When Ben calls for the group to move on to the second pub, you haven’t had your shot or finished your cocktail. Harry hasn’t had his either, so you make eye contact with him and gesture towards the tiny glasses. His lip quirks up for the first time in a while, which you consider a small victory that you’ll take. You don’t know why he’s acting so weird, but you also don’t want to ask him about it. Maybe he’s just shy.
The shot feels like acid crawling its way down your throat. You’ve had shots before, but you don’t usually have them so early in a night of drinking. It leaves a nice warm feeling in your stomach, but you don’t think you’ll have any more shots from the other pubs. Looking up, you find Harry giggling at your scrunched up face from the shot. You reach over the table and playfully whack him on the arm, to which he only giggles more. Even though you can still feel the uncomfortable acid burning your throat, you think that it was worth it to get Harry laughing and smiling again.
On the way to the second pub, the cool night air doesn’t feel as chilly anymore. You’re very comfortable in your t-shirt and jeans, and don’t feel as underdressed anymore. While some of the other girls are in nicer clothes and heels, others are wearing similar casual outfits as you. Harry isn’t dressed up either, and the pubs aren’t exactly fancy venues. The second place is even more grungy than the first, but it feels homely and welcoming with its dim lights and cute little tables for four. As you walk in, you can sense Harry’s hand hovering behind the small of your back. He guides you both towards the bar to get drinks together, and you don’t bother to debate why he’s bringing you along this time. He orders you both a beer, and you thrust the money at the bartender before Harry gets a chance; seeing as he paid for the last round.
You would’ve been happy to continue talking to Ben and Sian, but they’re already deep in conversation at a full table. You notice that Harry is pleased about something, but you let the curiosity escape you when you spot a table with two chairs free. You end up talking to a couple named Mateo and Sofia from Argentina, who are a bit reserved at first but lovely. Harry speaks up a little more in this conversation, asking the couple about their favourite cities to visit in South America. You mostly listen as they talk about the national parks they’ve all visited and the ones they’re yet to trek. You’re just happy that Harry seems to be in a better mood and more engaged than before, so you’re not fussed that you don’t know what they’re talking about.
You go to the bathroom and grab yourself and Harry another beer on the way back, enjoying how the rich malt coats your throat. You see Ben at the bar and chat to him for a bit, mostly about different types of beer. It’s not a particularly interesting conversation, but you nod your head and smile anyway.
When you return to the table and hand Harry his beer back, he thanks you but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You wonder what he might’ve talked about with the Argentinian couple while you were gone - perhaps the discussion about national parks turned dark or became awkward in some way.
Before you know it, you hear Ben call across the bar that it’s time to head to the third venue of the night. The crowd whoops and skulls their glasses before filing out the door with significantly more enthusiasm than the first pub. You stumble a little when you stand up, suddenly noticing the alcohol in your system. Harry is by your side in an instant, holding your upper arm gently and asking if you’re okay. You tell him that you feel fine and just stood up too quickly, but he doesn’t seem convinced.
The fresh air is delicious on the walk to the third pub. You feel like you have a little pep to your step from the warm buzz of alcohol flowing through your limbs, and you enjoy the feeling. You’re not quite drunk, but you’re definitely in the happy tipsy zone where you feel on top of the world. It’s giving you a pleasant dreamy feeling, almost like you’re floating as you walk next to Harry.
Once you turn a corner onto a main well-lit road, Harry slows you both down to take the pub crawl map out from his pocket and look closely at it under a flickering streetlight. Other hostel guests in the group pass you by without question.
“How are you feeling?” He asks you again, this time looking you dead in the eyes. “Do you…” he takes longer than he usually does to think before he finishes his sentence. “Do you want to… go back to the hostel? Instead of goin’ to the pub?”
Your eyes widen at his question, wondering what it could mean. Does he want what you do? Could he be suggesting something that has gone only unspoken between the two of you for the past few days? Or is he merely being a gentleman who wants to make sure that you don’t get too drunk and get back to the hostel alright?
You realise that you’re merely staring at him instead of giving him an answer, but he’s patient and waits for you to think it through.
“Um… yeah. That’s a good idea.” You finally decide to tell him, realising that you were only excited about the pubs because you got to be with Harry at them.
“Okay, cause we can just walk down that way to get back,” he says with an outstretched hand pointing down a street. “And the other pubs only get further away.”
“It’s a plan,” you say, immediately regretting the choice of response.
The journey back to the hostel is mostly silent, but your mind is racing. In fact, you find yourself so distracted wondering what Harry is thinking about that you end up tripping on your own feet and nearly falling face first onto the gravel sidewalk. Luckily, Harry catches you in time - even though he’s tipsy himself and probably has slowed reflexes. You take a deep breath and thank him for saving you from both the injury and embarrassment. He probably thinks that you’re more drunk than you are, but you’re sure that you tripped because of the distraction of him - not to mention that you’re already uncoordinated at the best of times.
Harry’s not showing his alcohol intake as much as you are in his body language, but you can see how tipsy he is based on his flushed face, narrowed eyes and far-away gaze. He looks over at you every few seconds, and keeps one arm held very closely behind your back in case you stumble once more. You know that you shouldn’t - but you’re tempted to trip up a second time just to feel his firm hands on your arm and waist yet again.
~
When you finally arrive back at your room, it’s dark and you can hear light snoring from the Japanese girl that you saw Harry speak to this morning. Thinking back to then, you can’t believe how long ago that felt considering you barely knew anything about Harry this morning. You feel like you’ve never learned more about a person in a single day until today. Once Harry follows you into the room, you can only see by the light of the moon. It casts a pale glow in one long streak on the wall next to the window. Once your eyes adjust, you can tell that the other bed above the Japanese girl is still untouched. She’s fast asleep and facing away from you, and you can see that she’s got an eye mask on and neon yellow ear plugs in.
You stumble through the room, blindly making your way the few steps towards the bed with your arms pointed out in front of your body. When your hands collide with the metal divider of the bunks, you stop abruptly in your track. Before you can say anything to Harry, he runs directly into you, pushing you into the bed. You hit the metal of the bed and it sounds worse than it feels, either because of the alcohol or the reverberation of the sound in the quiet room. Either way, you’re not very bothered by it because you’re distracted by the butterflies in your stomach screaming about being right next to a bed with Harry this close to you.
“Oh shit, are you alrigh’?” He asks you frantically and unnecessarily loud.
As a response, you start to giggle uncontrollably, and he joins in as soon as he realises that you’re fine. You’re both trying to smother your laughter so as not to wake up your roommate, and luckily you notice no change in her consistent snores. As your bodies both shake with laughter, Harry suddenly takes your shoulders in his hands. You jump a little, not expecting the touch. You’re still facing away from him and he’s chillingly close behind you. He begins to lazily massage into your shoulders, slowly moving his hands like waves on your skin. His touch is firm yet careful, and you feel immediately relaxed and comfortable under his hold. You’re both in a trance from his movements, almost paused in time, but you sense that he would let go of you in a heartbeat if you showed any signs of discomfort.
“But really, are you okay? That sounded bad,” Harry says, all the while loosening the tense muscles in your upper back and neck. You don’t mean to do it, don’t even realise what’s happened until after the sound leaves your mouth, but the massage feels so good that you let out a light moan. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth in an instant.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he says with a satisfied chuckle, and you’re really glad that he can’t see how embarrassed you look right now.
“Guess we should get to bed then,” you say. Except that neither of you move. You think back to your conversation this morning, where he offered to swap beds with you and even joked that you could share a bed. It was an easy flirtation to laugh off this morning, but it’s feeling far more tempting and possible now. You look up at the top bunk with dread, knowing that you won’t sleep again if you have to go back up there. You’re frozen in place, undecided on what to do next, when you hear the sound of fabric brushing against skin from behind you. When you turn around to look at Harry, your eyes go wide. He’s taken off his shirt and is already undoing the top button on his jeans.
“What the fuck?” You say, eyes wide and voice strained in shock.
“What?” He calmly whispers back. It takes him a few extra seconds because of the alcohol, but he manages to pop out the button of his jeans and bring down the zip. You’re taking the opportunity to appreciate his myriad of tattoos that still stand out despite the lack of light in the room, and your tipsy mind lets your eyes linger on his body even though he’s clearly noticed your gaze.
“Why are you taking off your clothes?” You manage to ask.
“Are you planning on sleeping like that?” He says, gesturing up and down your body.
“Well, no, but…” you stammer, unsure of what to say. “I’ve got pajamas.”
“So are you gonna get into them or just keep standing there ogling me?” He says with one eyebrow raised. You can feel the embarrassment rush over your face, so you turn towards your suitcase to pluck out your matching set of summer PJs. You make sure that he isn’t facing you and take off your shirt, replacing it with the soft red tank top that’s most comfortable to sleep in. You then take your bra off under your shirt, only slightly struggling with the clasp and straps. You can hear from the bed’s straining springs behind you that Harry is climbing onto the mattress and getting comfortable. It’s surprisingly loud in the nearly silent room. The only other things you can hear is your roommate’s light breathing and the distant sounds of Vancouver still alive with nightlife. You glance behind you again to make sure that Harry is still looking away, and see that his face is lit up by his phone screen. You quickly shimmy out of your jeans, feeling the cool air on your legs raise goosebumps across your skin. You’re a little dizzy trying to put on your silk pajama shorts, and end up needing to hold onto the bed’s metal railing to keep your balance. The Japanese girl is still breathing evenly and clearly in a very deep sleep.
When your shorts are on, you turn back to the bed and pause, unsure of what to do. You feel like your brain needs to catch up and process everything without the sight of Harry almost naked in the bed before you. He’s under the covers, but you can’t help but think about the glimpses of his body that’s burned into your memory. You feel hot and cold at the same time, and shiver at the odd sensation. Harry senses your presence and looks up from his phone to find you awkwardly motionless in front of your shared bunk bed.
“You coming?” He asks.
Your confusion shows on your face with a frown and furrowed brows. He responds by pulling back the covers and shifting his body over as close to the wall as he can get. You finally understand in your tipsy haze that he’s offering you a spot.
“But it’s a single bed.”
“I’m a cuddler anyway,” he says in a tone that is far too calm and collected for the present situation. The light from his phone screen turns off but you still catch his cheeky expression.
You’re conflicted. You like Harry, and have enjoyed all of your time with him so far, which has felt like so much more than two days. But you don’t really know him that well, and this is something that you never do. You try to remain a little objective about the fact that you’ve barely known him two days, because you feel as if you’ve known him for years. He’s so easy to talk to, kind, thoughtful, genuine, and funny. His smile brightens up every room and you feel such a natural chemistry with him that you can’t deny.
You don’t know if he just has a flirty personality or is genuinely attracted to you like you are to him. You’re already mortified at the thought of making assumptions and being rejected by him. Your skin begins to prickle with the familiar feeling of panic. Your options are to return to the top bunk, or sleep in the same single bed as Harry. The choice should be easy, but your tipsy mind is faltering at the thought of your body pressed up against his.
His confident smile is replaced with concern when he sees panic in your eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go up to the top bunk and you sleep here, it’s really fine.”
You think for a moment, considering why you’re so hesitant. It’s not that you don’t want to crawl into the bed with him. You do, more than anything. You want to be that person who does this kind of thing on a whim because it feels right. But you’ve always been the type to overthink and miss opportunities that you later wish you’d taken up.
As you contemplate your next move, Harry watches you patiently. After a minute, he tries a new approach to convince you to join him.
“You’re not thinking of going up there again, are you?” He raises a brow. “You wouldn’t even make it up there in one piece given the state you’re in.”
“Hey, I could get up there if I wanted,” you say, slightly slurring your words. This only further proves his point and he giggles at your grumpy scoff.
“Oh, really? You wanna try, then?” He’s mocking you now, but you don’t care because his dimples are on full display and his eyes are shining - even in the dim light. This is when you give up, and decide wholeheartedly that you’ll join Harry tonight.
“I like to be up against the wall, if that’s okay.” You say in a soft voice.
He grins widely and shifts back to where he was initially, allowing you the small space tucked into the wall. You’ve always felt safe there, as it helps to keep you grounded from your anxiety.
Harry seems relieved at your decision, even blushing a little bit. The only problem for you now is that you need to climb over and on top of him to reach the empty space in the bed.
Resting your knee against the side of the mattress next to Harry’s thigh, you duck your torso down so that you’re parallel to his body. Leaning over him, you can almost feel electricity between your bodies. Your hairs are standing on end, like they are pulling you down towards his body. Your mind falters at your proximity to him, and his scent of mint and gin. There’s another scent that catches you, something musky and floral that you’ve never come across. It’s comforting and warm, and makes you want to melt into him until you smell the same.
As you lift your leg over his body, your inner thigh grazes against the outside of his thigh, skin to skin. You shiver at the contact and he takes in a sharp breath. You feel like you’re immediately more intoxicated from the overwhelming scent and grazing touch of him alone. Hovering above him, you pause for a moment and make eye contact. Even in the dim light, you can see how light and soft his green eyes are while looking upon you with enlarged pupils. Your brain tells you to move towards the wall, but your body stays put above him. And as you don’t go anywhere, Harry shamelessly moves his eyes down your body.
His gaze feels like fire, or ice, or anything that takes control of your body and encompasses you in the feeling alone. He drags his eyes back up to yours, and you swear that his pupils are so large that there’s barely any colour left there. His muscles are tensed and you notice that his skin bares the same goosebumps as yours. You don’t dare look down at his body the way he’s glanced over yours, even though you can sense his eyes daring you to.
After what feels like minutes but must have been only seconds, you manage to pull your leg over his body to gracelessly land in the bed next to him. Your back hits the freezing cold wall and it sends a sudden shiver down your spine, leading your body to instinctively jump away from it – straight into Harry’s arms. You don’t even realise what’s happened until it’s too late. Your chest is pressed firmly against the soft warmth of his naked torso and your face is only a breath away from his. Harry seems just as surprised as you are, but he doesn’t move away. You let out a shaky breath, taking a moment to notice how his lips are slightly parted and glistening against the reflected moonlight. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and glances down between you where your bodies meet. His forehead brushes against yours with the movement and the light touch causes you to arch your back even further into him. On any other night or with any other person, you might be embarrassed at such a response to someone barely touching you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care, and it’s not just the alcohol talking. Harry’s intoxicating all on his own – and you feel unbelievably alive being this close to him.
You make eye contact and hold it for a few moments, both daring each other to protest or move. He keeps hold of your gaze and slowly snakes his hand along your side – up your thigh, over your hips, and into the dip of your waist. It feels like your body has ignited, set ablaze by his rough fingertips taking their time with your shivering body. You realise suddenly that one of your arms has become numb while crushed under your body but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Harry, still holding eye contact with you, trails the hand on your waist behind your back and presses lightly so that you’re tightly held in his arms. You can feel your nipples hardening against his chest and wonder if he can feel the sensitive nubs poking into him through your tank top.
There’s a pause where you both even your breathing, him just holding you close, before he adjusts his hips to shift sideways and meet flush against your own. You draw a sharp breath, feeling how hard he is against your upper thigh with barely any fabric between you. Your mind jumps to life and your arm finally moves from your own thigh across to his. You get as far as the hem of his boxer briefs before he breaks the silence.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers, sounding unconvinced himself. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” you challenge him. He lets out an exasperated breath.
“I want you,” he says with surety. “But we can’t if… you’re not able to… think about it properly.”
“Harry, I wanted you before I had any alcohol. And I feel it but I can also still think clearly, I promise you.” He looks at you for a moment as if considering your words and then gives the slightest nod.
“We don’t have to have sex right now,” you say, shocked by your own confidence and the boldness taking over you. “I just want to touch you. Is that okay?”
He shivers out a quiet yes, and your hand continues to move up his thigh and over his hip. You bypass his cock to tease him a little and travel up his tensed torso, tracing your hand over his tattoos as you’ve imagined doing for the past two days. He begins moving his hand again too, going back down your body until he’s cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You’re exploring each other’s bodies silently and all you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat reverberating in your ears.
Your fingers dance across his shoulders and back until they land on his stomach, tickling the trail of hair just above his crotch. You move lower and lower until your hand pushes the band of his underwear down his thighs, releasing his cock to spring up against your joined bodies. You look him in the eyes as seductively as you can manage as you reach down between you and wrap your fingers around him. You both breathe in sharply – him from the feeling of you finally touching him, and you from the shock at just how big he is.
He’s already rock hard and throbbing in your hand, and you haven’t even done anything yet. You squeeze him gently, marvelling at how your fingertips can’t touch each other around his thick shaft. You keep your hand in place and let your thumb wander over his head, caressing along his tip until you discover all of his most sensitive spots. He’s biting his tongue but can’t stop himself from breathing in heavy, shaking bursts. You can feel that he’s too dry, so you remove your hand from around his shaft and lift it up to your face. He looks confused for a minute, and then his eyes widen in aroused surprise as you very slowly lick one long stripe from the base of your palm to the tip of your fingers. You keep eye contact with him the entire time, and he lets out a light hiss when you dip your fingers into your mouth with sucked in cheeks. You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you have no plans to stop – you feel hypnotised and utterly helpless to stop whatever it is you’ve begun.
When you return your hand to his cock, it’s gotten even harder and seemingly even bigger than it was just a moment ago. You slick your saliva up and down his shaft, squeezing a bit as you reach the base. Around his tip, your touch is smooth and feather-light. You familiarise yourself with the feel of him, imagining how the bump of the thick vein on his side would feel inside of you. He’d be the biggest you’ve ever had, and you can feel yourself dripping into your underwear at the thought of him fucking you. Once the image is in your head, it stays there while you work at him and feel him unravel before you. It’s a powerful feeling – knowing that you’re the reason that he’s feeling so good and beginning to squirm in your arms.
Your hand twists and turns as you work his shaft, making sure to graze the underside of his cock with your thumb every few thrusts. A few times, you even feel him twitch in your hand. His hips begin to jut up into your hand, matching your rhythm and allowing you to run the full length of his shaft with each thrust. He’s clearly concentrating on remaining quiet but can’t help the tensing of his muscles and rough pulls on your skin with his free hand. He runs his fingers up your back and buries his hand into the hair at the base of your scalp. He closes his hand into a fist and your back arches at the dull pull of your hair.
You make eye contact yet again and this time it’s more intimate than ever. Your hand slows down and holds firmly in one place as you both look over each other behind hooded eyes. Harry then uses the hand in your hair to push you towards him, and your lips lock. It’s immediately passionate and wet, as you seem to have skipped past the hesitant or innocent first kiss that you might’ve had. You’re doing things out of order but neither of you care because it all feels so right. He tastes exactly like he smells, but somehow even sweeter. Your tongues dance together in an easy and natural rhythm, without any stumbling or awkwardness that often comes along with a first kiss. You let Harry lead the kiss and fall even further into the intoxication of him. Your mind is in the clouds, and your body is following instinct.
When you finally part from the kiss, panting and blurry-eyed, he moves his sweaty torso back a little bit so that he’s no longer pressed completely against you. He glances down between your bodies at your stock-still fingers around his cock and bites his lip.
“Go on,” he says, and you shiver at the command. You continue, and Harry releases the arm pinned under him so that he can explore your body with both hands. You do the same and he shivers when your second hand wraps around him. He dips his fingers under the hem of your tank and sighs when he drags them up to massage over your bare breasts.
“So beautiful,” he whispers in a tone of heavy arousal.
“You’re so big,” you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. He chuckles lightly and his dimples appear in a smug grin. You’re not usually so forthcoming with thoughts like this, but something has seemed to take over you tonight.
“This is all I’ve thought about,” he admits, sounding truly vulnerable and unsure of himself for the first time.
“Me too,” you reassure him. “I wanted you since the first time I saw you.” You brush your fingers against the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum beading up. His mouth opens in a relieved but pained expression, and he presses his sweaty forehead down against yours.
When he collects himself, he returns to a self-assured smile. “Oh, I know. I saw the way you looked at me in the towel when we first met,” he whispers in a deeper voice than you’ve heard come out of him.
“Can you blame me?” You say, playing into the praise he’s clearly enjoying. “Been thinking about touching you since then.” You’re both speaking in the softest whispers you can manage, basically breathing dirty thoughts into each others’ mouths.
“What have you been thinking about?” He asks you, his voice strained and husky. “Tell me.”
“Touching you,” you whisper, barely audible. “Like this.” You squeeze your hand harder than you have yet and twist at the same time, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat.
“I wanna touch you too,” he moans, moving his palm from where it rested on your breast down your skin until it hits the top of your shorts. “Can I?”
“Please,” you mutter. You help him move your shorts far down enough for him to access your underwear, but you need him too much to take the time to fully remove them. Every part of your body is on fire, and every touch of his hand against your skin reverberates through you like waves. He takes a moment to tease you by dragging the tips of his fingers along your soft inner thighs, which sends chills down your spine and makes your head instinctively fall back. But then he lightly brushes his fingers over your vulva, and it takes everything in you to not loudly moan at the feeling. You can feel that you’ve soaked through your underwear, which might have embarrassed you on another day, but today all you can do is push your hips up towards his fingers to urge him on.
Harry catches your eyes in the dark and watches you as he hooks his thumb into your underwear and pulls it out of the way. He bites his lip and stares at you intensely when he first runs his fingers through your folds, clearly enjoying the way that your mouth drops open at his touch. He collects your arousal over his fingers and drags it up to coat your clit before circling against its hood with the pad of his ring finger. It feels so overwhelmingly good that your muscles begin to clench and your thighs instinctively try to close around his arm. He doesn’t hesitate to move his leg so that he’s holding yours open and apart. He then leans forward and starts kissing your neck, all the while circling your clit with masterful fingers, causing you to feel like you’re going to fall apart. It usually takes longer for you to get to this point, but you’ve wanted Harry so badly since the moment you saw him that it’s like you’ve been wound up and ready for days.
After a minute, you feel something warm twitch in your hand and realise that your palm is still loosely wrapped around Harry’s cock. You’ve been too overwhelmed and distracted to do anything for him, but it only turns you on more to think of getting him off at the same time that he’s getting you off. You suddenly squeeze him tightly and rub your thumb over his head, and he lets out a surprised squeak that cuts through the silence of the room. Your breath catches in your throat at the reminder that you need to be as quiet as possible, but there’s absolutely no way that either of you can stop now. You test another squeeze around him, and he exhales lightly in relief. He can’t be that far off at this point, but you don’t care because neither are you. And it’s not just the fact that you’d both been drinking a bit earlier in the night - there’s something about him that’s electrifying and sets your body alight in a way that it never has before.
You already think you’re going to burst from the way Harry’s touching you, but it gets even more intense when he brings his middle finger down to tease your entrance and press into it slowly. He replaces his ring finger with his thumb so that he’s still touching your clit, except that the added element of his finger inside you makes you want to scream. When he presses a second finger in and moves them around against your walls, you know that you’re absolutely done for.
All you can focus on is pumping your hand up and down Harry’s shaft, but his fingers feel so good that you struggle to keep a constant rhythm. Harry’s movements also become messier as they go, as you both become frantic and desperate for your releases. When you can barely hold on anymore, and Harry is clearly on the verge of cumming too, you meet each others’ mouths with a passion that you’d both been hiding but wanting to let out. As his tongue dances against yours, you’re overwhelmed with the fact that all you can feel and breathe and sense is him. And he brings something out of you so powerful that you’ve never experienced it before.
It’s more blazing than fire and more chilling than ice, and it encompasses every cell in your body. Harry holds down your shaking legs with his own but he can’t stop your chest from curling in on itself until your forehead presses between his neck and shoulder. And for one extended moment, everything stops. Even your breath stops for the rush overtaking your body in waves of flaming relief. Time doesn’t exist - only feeling does. Only you and Harry and every place that your bodies meet.
At some point, the tension ebbs out of your muscles and your body starts to relax. And that’s when Harry starts to shake and curl into you just as you did to him only seconds before. You focus all your energy on working him through his release, and you swear you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. You can see the sweat beading on his bent forehead in the low light and his lips are a plump cherry red. His eyes are tightly shut and his expression almost looks like one of intense concentration. He holds on to you tightly and restlessly bucks his hips into your hand, until you feel the viscous warmth pool across your fingertips. His body goes limp against yours and you both take a minute to catch your breath and listen to the now thundering silence.
In the absence of his whispers and kisses and heavy breathing, you can hear the distant sounds of cars and people hollering on the street. The hostel’s downstairs bar plays dance music that you can feel the bass of if you concentrate. Someone just went to the toilet down the hall, or maybe the sound is a person taking a late night shower. Your roommate is still snoring lightly, thankfully unaware of the night’s events. It’s almost shocking remembering that the world is still here all around you.
But the loudest thing that you hear is your own heartbeat hammering away in your chest. You can feel it reverberate where Harry’s fingers just were, like your body is mourning his touch. You don’t know what to say or do now - but you’re feeling more sober than ever.
You don’t regret it, not for a single moment, but you’re a little worried that he might. Your mind whirrs at the thought of every worst case scenario that could follow such a high - what if he doesn’t want to spend any more time with you after tonight? What if he goes into the top bunk to avoid cuddling after your orgasms?
But then Harry caresses your arm gently with the tips of his fingers and your worries fade away into thin air. He looks soft and vulnerable; prettier than you’ve ever seen him. His eyelids weigh down with drowsiness but he looks completely content. His fingers snake behind your shoulder, and his palm presses against the centre of your back until you’re drawn flush against his body. You breathe in his comforting musky scent, and smile at how safe you feel in his arms. He swiftly collects the blankets from the end of the bed to drape over you both and adjusts his other arm to rest under your head like a pillow. You feel yourself drifting and sinking faster than ever, and already know that you’re going to sleep like the dead. You’re not sure if you’re already dreaming or not, but you swear that the last thing you notice before you fall into unconsciousness is the feather-light touch of Harry’s lips against your forehead.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#one direction#one direction fan fiction#one direction fanfiction#writing#a long way from home#alwfh
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Hello! I've read some of your stories and fan fictions and I think your'e very talented ^o^ Do you still have an interest in writing?
I do! I’ve been trying to work on my fics, but I’ve had a lot of trouble with all three of them. I just can’t seem to write a new chapter that I’m actually satisfied with,
#scasts#second chances are stronger than secrets#tsp#the stargate project#alwfh#a long way from home#shizaya#shizaya fics#fanfics#shizaya fanfics#Anonymous
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Title: Finding Her Worth
Description: I got feels over Yellow Diamond's Pearl from the latest ALWFH insert. So I wanted to explore what those mischievous Pearls might have been talking about and a little more about how Pearl might have been feeling.Please read the original fanfiction first for context!
She knew what she had been made for. She knew, from the moment she opened her eyes and saw her Diamond for the first time, what her purpose was. She was made perfect. As perfect as her Diamond. She was ready and willing to serve her master. To tend to her every whim. Pearl could not have been more thrilled with the life that had been chosen for her.
The three Diamonds met often, and so it wasn't long before Pearl found herself being fussed over by Blue Diamond. "Perfect." she called her. Pearl knew it. But she had never been told so by her Diamond. It felt strange, that someone else should notice how special she was before her owner had. She felt a twinge inside, a little seed of doubt, and a voice in her mind whispered, not good enough.
Pearl pushed such notions away. Of course she was good enough for her Diamond. She had been made for her. Her Diamond knew she was perfect. She didn't have to say so. Yet, Pearl found it nice to have that fact acknowledged. To hear it said allowed. To be reminded that she was good enough, without simply assuming it for herself.
She did not have time to dwell on such things, nor did she want to. She was ushered to join the other pearls belonging to White Diamond and Blue Diamond, and so she trotted over to the waiting pair. They had already begun to chat freely, but paused as the new arrival approached.
"Hello." Pearl said, tentatively. She shouldn't have been nervous. These pearls were her own kind. Should anything happen, her Diamond was still nearby.
The blue pearl ducked her head in acknowledgement, but the white one spoke up. "So you're the one White's been talking about."
"I suppose so." Pearl replied.
"Did you know, they never had Pearls before us? We're the very first. And My Diamond was the first to get a pearl. And then Blue Diamond got one after. Yellow Diamond wasn't interested for the longest time, but it seems the other Diamonds finally convinced her. Even when you were being made, Blue Diamond was more interested in your creation than Yellow Diamond was. Pearl was always telling me about it whenever we got together." White Diamond's Pearl might have talked on, had Yellow Diamond's Pearl not interrupted her.
"Not interested?" she chimed in.
"Oh, don't worry about that!" The white pearl reached over and clasped yellow hands in her own. "She has you now. And she seems to be just as smitten with you as our Diamonds are."
But Pearl did worry about that. The little seed from before sprouted, growing the tiniest bit larger. It was the ache of doubt she had felt earlier. She looked to her Diamond, staring for a moment. Hoping that she could glimpse some secret sign that she was wanted, after all. She had always felt that something had been off. Ever since the first day when her Diamond had asked what she was for. As if she didn't have any particular purpose in mind, but merely had her as some kind of trophy. Now she knew that before she had even taken her first form, before the first layer of calcium carbonate had been laid down for her creation, that she hadn't even been wanted in the first place.
"So how is it, being with your Diamond?" Blue Diamonds Pearl finally spoke up.
Pearl was glad for the distracting question from the other Pearl. Still, she couldn't help but feel that there was something curious about the way she asked the question. Something in the inflection that Pearl picked up on, but couldn't decipher its meaning. The two other pearls looked at her expectantly, as if some detailed answer awaited them. What could there possibly be to tell?
"It's wonderful serving her. Although-" she glanced back at her Diamond. She would never dream of speaking ill of Yellow Diamond, but at the same time, she felt the need to confide in her fellow pearls. After all, they had likely experienced many of the same struggles and could offer encouragement or advice. She lowered her voice, on the off chance that Yellow Diamond could hear them at all. "-sometimes it can be difficult to earn her approval."
"Proper service does take practice." The white pearl waved her hand dismissively. "Tell us what you've tried."
Pearl thought that was an odd prompt. Surely they had all been made for the same purpose? Granted, they were all unique and custom made for their Diamonds, but their duties were likely similar. Weren't they?
"Everything she requests of me, of course. Mostly menial tasks. Dictation, record keeping, balancing her schedule, correspondence. You know. The functions we were made for. It's not really significant. I shouldn't expect My Diamond to acknowledge every little job I complete." In reality, she wanted desperately to be noticed by her Diamond at every possible opportunity. Perhaps that was simply too demanding.
"She doesn't know what we're talking about!" The white pearl asked, looking to Blue Diamond's Pearl. She apparently found this new found fact to be hilarious, because she stifled a laugh behind her hand.
If Pearl had seemed timid at first, she overcame shyness immediately the moment she felt she was being made fun of. She stomped her foot and clenched her fists at her sides, looking from one Pearl to the other with a scowl. At least the blue pearl did not seem to find humor in the situation. So Pearl turned her attention to the one that still had a shit eating grin on her face.
"What?!" she demanded.
White Diamond's Pearl raised her eyebrows and looked at the blue pearl next to her. As if coming to some kind of silent agreement between the two of them, she turned back to Pearl. Her voice hardly reached above a whisper as she leaned forward to be as close as possible when she said, "We're talking about sex, darling."
"Oh." Pearl's cheeks instantly flushed. Everything that had happened that morning, everything that had been said, all fell into place. It was troubling, that these other pearls had been able to assist their Diamonds with matters beyond routine duties. Yet she had not been asked to, and she didn't dare make the first move on such intimate affections.
She had thought about these things, of course. Ways in which she might be more useful to her Diamond. It never seemed to be the right time. There was never a point when Yellow Diamond indicated that she might desire her Pearl in a personal way. Pearl wanted to be able to care for her, to bring her Diamond the ultimate fulfillment. But it was surprising to the other pearls that she had not already partaken in these activities, and that same small root of apprehension made her uncertain of her usefulness.
"You were made to service her. We all were." Blue Diamond's Pearl broke the silence between the three of them.
"My Diamond must not require such frivolities." Despite her initial shock at the previous revelation, she strove to regain her composure. That was what her Diamond would want. She was always poised, and perfect, and non-nonsense. Surely she was expected to emulate her attitude.
"If that's what you choose to believe." The white pearl rolled her eyes, seeing right through Pearl's attempt to be nonchalant.
"What would you know about MY Diamond?" Pearl shot back.
That grin was back, the same one that had infuriated Pearl earlier. "Only that both our Diamonds desire such things and are grateful to us for providing a way to indulge in their proclivities. It's really wonderful! Nobody else on all of Homeworld would ever have the privilege." she looked to her Diamond dreamily, knowing that White Diamond would certainly want to relieve some stress and tension following this meeting with her fellow sisters.
Pearl crossed her arms and huffed. She didn't want to believe what the white pearl was saying. All this time, she had felt she was doing the best job that she could. She had felt that her troubles were likely shared by the other pearls, that they all struggled with trying to please the most perfect gems in the universe. But no. She was alone in all of it. All of her fears and doubts were culminating inside her, taking hold and lingering all too long.
White Diamond's Pearl spoke again. "There's no need to get upset. Your Diamond loves you. She wants to be with you."
Blue Diamond's Pearl wanted to add in her advice, too. "Start with a kiss. And if she doesn't kiss you back right away, do it again. Again and again, until she starts to relax. Sometimes it takes awhile, but she will be grateful for the distraction. The rest will come naturally to you both. Always listen to your Diamond. Be aware of her needs. And if she's especially pleased, she'll tend to yours, too."
Pearl had more questions, but the ruffle of clothing caught her attention as the three Diamonds stood, indicating that their meeting was over. The pearls briskly made their way back to the gems that they had been made for. The things that Pearl had learned were a whirlwind in her mind, but she hoped the knowledge she had acquired from the others would be invaluable in the near future.
* * *
The scenario the other pearls had described did not go at all like Pearl had expected. Perhaps she had been right all along, that her Diamond did not need the primitive pleasures of the flesh. What did that white pearl know about her Diamond anyway? She had had the instinct to leave well enough alone and to bury her own desires in order to efficiently serve her Diamond. But she had received encouragement from the others, and so had decided to ignore her better judgement and try out their suggestion. The result was not pleasant.
"I tried what you said." she whispered to the other pearls when they had all been able to gather together again for the next meeting of the Diamonds.
"Did you?" Curiosity was evident in the white pearl's voice.
"I did! And as expected, My Diamond does not wish for such gratifications, as your Diamonds do." she smirked, the knowledge of being right bringing her immense satisfaction.
"Are you sure you did it right? It was your first time, after all." White Diamond's Pearl was skeptical of Pearl's words.
"I went to kiss her, just as you suggested. Before I even got the chance, she demanded to know what I was doing. I shouldn't have been surprised. She was so close I could almost taste her but… She seemed repulsed at the very notion." Pearl almost let her imagination get the best of her, but pushed down the intrusive thoughts, lest she be tempted to act on her inclinations.
"Are you positive?" The white pearl prompted.
"Yes! She was very insistent that such acts were unwanted." Pearl was growing tired of the rapid fire questions being thrown at her. It was like neither of them believed her, even though they hadn't been witnesses to the abrupt response from her Diamond. Still, the two persisted.
"Do you do everything she asks of you?" The blue pearl asked quietly.
"Yes, of course!" Pearl answered energetically.
"Do you ever question her?" The white pearl prompted.
"No, never!" Her eyes went wide.
"Are you always by her side? Do you ever stray?" Blue Diamond's Pearl asked.
"Where would I go?" Pearl answered, as if the very idea was ludicrous.
"Maybe she doesn't think you're perfect." The white pearl said, nonchalantly.
Something twisted in Pearl's gut. She glanced back at her Diamond, who was far too busy to notice. She was the picture of perfection. The most flawless gem on Homeworld, even above the other Diamonds. Her hand brushed over her own gem, trying to find the flaw. She was made for Yellow Diamond. She was supposed to be perfect, too. But something was wrong with her. Something that made her different than White Diamond and Blue Diamond's pearls. It ate her up inside and made her feel almost sick, if gems could have felt such a thing.
It didn't have anything to do with the fact that she'd be shattered if she displeased Yellow Diamond. It was far more tortuous to be alive and not be able to properly serve her Diamond. To serve her Diamond was her sole purpose. And if she couldn't do so, she felt empty. Unfulfilled. Useless. She needed to feel needed, just as all pearls did.
But the way the other pearls talked, perhaps she was not needed. Maybe she was only around because Yellow Diamond had succumbed to the pressure from her sisters to join their latest fad. Was she really nothing more than a prize to tote around? She could accomplish so much! She was smart and skilled and mirrored much of the prowess of her Diamond. Why didn't Yellow Diamond want her?
She had heard the stories from the other Diamond's pearls about how their owners had reacted. White Diamond had looked down at her fresh faced Pearl, all shiny and new, and smiled. From what Pearl had heard, she hardly ever smiled. Not even when she was pleased with her court did she give them such a rare gift. And even Blue Diamond had fawned over her until she got a pearl of her own.
Blue Diamond had been immediately ecstatic. Her Pearl said it was almost too much excitement all at once. One moment she was nestled comfortably in her oyster, trying to take everything in, and the next she was right up against Blue Diamond's gem. It was warm and familiar, even though she had only just barely opened her eyes for the first time. Being there, so close to her Diamond, felt like a home she didn't even know she wanted until she'd found it.
Pearl thought back to the day when she had been presented to Yellow Diamond. Looking up at that gorgeous face, knowing that she belonged by her side for as long as she was needed. Yellow Diamond didn't scowl, but neither did she smile. Her expression remained as unreadable as ever. She did not emulate the same comforting feeling that the other pearls had described. Pearl had thought nothing of it at the time, not even when Yellow Diamond had asked, "What are you supposed to do?"
There was something different that flowed between the other pearls and their diamonds. A warmth that radiated from them. It was evident in the ways that they interacted, even for the brief moments that Pearl had seen in these meetings. They had something that she didn't, some kind of relationship that went far deeper than any other gem could hope to reach with their Diamond. Pearl could see it, but she didn't know how to achieve it.
"If you really were any good, your Diamond would want you." The white pearl meant to imply that she was speaking in a purely sexual sense, but Pearl took it much harsher.
Every time she doubted herself, the tangle of what felt like vines twisted around inside her. All of her fears fed the growing apprehension, and her worries grew over and around each other until her stomach was in knots. She was made to be useful. She craved orders and the ability to unquestioningly serve her Diamond. She wanted so badly what the others had.
"We love to please, and they love to receive. It's really quite simple. Maybe you just aren't up to the task." White Diamond's Pearl carried on, seemingly ignoring the pained expression on the yellow pearls face.
"How can I make her want me?" Pearl ventured.
"If the kiss didn't work, I have no idea. Diamonds always want to be with their pearls, even for more time than they should reasonably spare." White Diamond's Pearl shook her head apologetically. "I do hope you figure it out soon. We like having you around. It would be a shame to have you replaced, especially when you haven't even been around for a few centuries yet."
The offhanded comments of the other pearls haunted her long after the meeting was over. She wanted to be good. She wanted to be the best. She worked hard and attended to every need of her Diamond the instant she was asked. She did not stray or waver, and remained fully devoted at all times to her master. But no matter what she tried, no matter how much she wanted to ignore how she felt towards Yellow Diamond, she could not stifle the feelings that bubbled to the surface every time she so much as looked at her perfect, beautiful, illustrious Diamond. The anguish of not being able to touch her was almost too much to bear.
* * *
Yet again Pearl found herself in the company of the other Diamonds and their pearls. The initial excitement she had felt the first couple of times she had met with the others of her same gemkind had faded. No longer did she enjoy the visits with her fellow pearls. They were always a reminder of how not good enough she was. Every meeting she was reminded that all her efforts did not amount to the things the other pearls got to do with their Diamonds.
She listened while the others chatted about how well they were pleasing their Diamonds. Exchanging tips and pointers for the other to try the next time they were intimate with their master. All Pearl could do was stand nearby and feel glum. She wasn't any good. She didn't know how to be better and it gnawed away at her, as if something was squirming around inside that was going to tear her apart at any moment. She wished it would, so she wouldn't have to endure this ache.
She searched her Diamond for what was the matter. Day after day she wondered and worried. What more could she do? How could she earn her favor, as the other pearls had done with their Diamonds?
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that it had come so easily to them. All they had had to do was follow their instincts. Do what they were made for. They made advances to their Diamonds, and in return, had received smiles and praise and formed an unbreakable bond that no other gem could ever dream of achieving.
Yet when Pearl had tried, she had been reprimanded. She was treated as if she had done something wrong. Maybe she had. Maybe she did nothing right and her Diamond simply humored her. Perhaps the other pearls were right, that if she was any good she would be allowed to treat her Diamond, to be with her and pleasure her in the way that only pearls were permitted to.
Her Diamond was perfect.
She was not.
She didn't know where, but something inside her - or perhaps even outside - was amiss. Something that displeased her Diamond. Something that made her undesirable. The way the other pearls talked, about how loving and compassionate their Diamonds could be, and how happy they were to have been chosen by them. Pearl wanted that desperately, but no matter what she tried that fantasy always seemed out of her reach. She had given up, and resigned herself to the fact that she was not fated to be the perfect Pearl that Yellow Diamond had been expecting. She was tolerated, but not truly desired. At least she had been gifted with the privilege to reside in the presence of Yellow Diamond, for however long her existence lasted.
* * *
Oh, but the look on Pearl's face the next time the Diamonds met. It had finally happened! With a bit of coaxing from her fellow sisters, Yellow Diamond had finally let down her guard and allowed herself to be affectionate with her Pearl, for what seemed like the first time ever. She couldn't wait to spill every bit of their encounter to the White Diamond and Blue Diamond's pearls.
It was romantic, in a way. Yellow Diamond had left her entire court behind on Homeworld, ensuring that she and her Pearl would be left completely alone, without any interruptions or distractions. No one else to bear witness, not even anyone around to hear what the two were up to. At long last, Pearl's efforts had been rewarded. She knew what it was like to become one with her Diamond. To experience her to the fullest.
And she really did experience her to the fullest.
As soon as she revealed her accolade to to the other pearls, all of her waiting become worth it. To see the jealousy and wonderment on their faces. To know that even if she was not the first Pearl of the Diamond court, she was still the first to be allowed to incubate with the mineral rich fluid of one of the most powerful and perfect gems on Homeworld. This prize was all hers, and she knew without any doubt that she deserved it.
Now, the other two pearls were covetous of what she had. They all desired a geode all their own from their Diamonds. Pearl was simply beaming, knowing at long last that her Diamond wanted her. She was a perfect little Pearl. She should never have insinuated that she was anything but. Yellow Diamond would want nothing less than perfection in her court at all times, and Pearl was certainly no exception. How she could have ever thought anything had gone amiss during her creation, she didn't know.
The feelings of affection and adoration that Pearl felt for her Diamond were stronger than ever. Getting her incubating was something she would have never hoped to dream, but that she would be forever grateful for. She finally had something to show off to White Diamond and Blue Diamond's pearls, and their rebuttals would be forever hushed.
Pearl had everything she could ever want. Not just the envy of the other pearls. It was the love from her Diamond that truly mattered. She would never again be able to question her value, to be apprehensive of her necessity. No, Yellow Diamond needed her just as much as she needed her Diamond. That was crystal clear now.
Hosting the progeny of a Diamond was previously unheard of, but the honor was hers, and hers alone. No gem on all of Homeworld would ever be able to take that away from Pearl. She swelled with pride and satisfaction, knowing that the symbol of their deeds was displayed prominently for all to see. She belonged to Yellow Diamond, truly belonged, and had at least found her rightful place by her side.
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Finding Her Worth
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mG981v
by Gemology
I got feels over Yellow Diamond's Pearl from the latest ALWFH insert. So I wanted to explore what those mischievous Pearls might have been talking about and a little more about how Pearl might have been feeling.
Please read the original fanfiction first for context!
Words: 3810, Chapters: 4/4, Language: English
Fandoms: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/F
Characters: Yellow Diamond, Blue Diamond, Yellow Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe), Blue Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe), White Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe), White Diamond (Steven Universe)
Relationships: Yellow Diamond/Yellow Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe), Yellow Diamond & Yellow Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe)
Additional Tags: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Master/Servant, Master & Servant, Master/Pet, Pregnancy, Incubation, Tentacle Dick, geode, Geodes, Implied Sexual Content
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mG981v
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What would Hideki’s reaction be if reader wanted to break up
So, since technically the Reader and Hideki aren't actually officially dating at this point in the story, we're just going to play pretend and say that IF they did start dating, and she eventually decided to break up with him (probably because of his controlling and possessive nature 😒) then the end result would be fairly catastrophic.
Hideki would absolutely never lay hands on her and physically hurt her, he'd rather die than do that, but he's reaction would still be terrifying all the same. I'm honestly not even sure if he'd have the patience to think it through logically and try to convince (manipulate) her into changing her mind, he would likely just immediately jump on the bandwagon of threats and coercion to convince her to stay with him.
#ask response#anonymous#ALWFH#yandere!yakuza#fem!reader#yandere!yakuza x fem!reader#typical yandere behavior#yandere blog
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A Long Way From Home
You’re travelling and meet Harry in your hostel when you share a bunk bed in a tiny mixed dorm room. It’s a long week. (5.5k)
***A/N: Thank you for all of your support with It’s None of Your Business! I really hope you enjoy this one :) I’m just as nervous as I was posting my first piece (if not more so!) so please let me know what you think! The opening paragraphs will make more sense by the end and into part 2 btw :) I’m not sure yet how many parts there will be but there will definitely be more to this story!!***
Warnings: MC with anxiety, masturbation
It’s the only bed left. Of the two bunk beds in the tiny, stuffy room of the Vancouver hostel, the top bunk right next to the door is the only untouched space. On the bunk underneath, a black backpack spills its contents over the slept-in sheets. Looking around the room, there isn’t much else to see. The other two beds in the room are clearly occupied as well, but there’s no one currently here. It’s late enough in the morning that you assume people are already out exploring the city, which is what you plan on doing once you’re settled in. Two large backpacker packs and one open suitcase litter the floor, and a few pairs of shoes are piled into a corner. There are two towels hanging from hooks to your left and a tiny window that doesn’t look like it will open. You can’t help but feel the early tugs of anxiety pulling you into your head. You’ve travelled before, even stayed in a few hostels before, but you still wonder if it’s a mistake every time. Sure, you didn’t really have the money to stay anywhere else in this expensive city, but you can’t switch off your racing mind at the realisation that you’re stuck with a top bunk. You feel like a child being afraid of something like this, and have even been made fun of by friends for admitting the fear. You’ve pushed yourself into sleeping on a top bunk before, but every time you try to sleep you can see yourself falling off of the bunk in a half-vision, half-memory of the time that you fell and broke your arm at summer camp. The camp counsellor assigned to your group didn’t believe that you’d really hurt yourself and it took two days to be sent to the nurse. Your parents nearly shut the camp down for good once they found out about it. You stare at the bunk, willing yourself to just move your stuff onto the bed and get over yourself, but you feel paralysed. After a minute, the weight of your pack on your shoulders forces you to begin settling in.
You know that it’s irrational, that a bunk bed is barely off the ground and that you can no longer slip between the bottom of the bed and the protective bar, but your anxiety continues to pester you as you slowly unpack. You’re in the middle of giving yourself a lecture in your head about doing things that make you uncomfortable because you’re an adult, when you hear the accepted beep of a keycard against the other side of the door. You’re standing on the second rung of the bunk’s ladder unloading some of your belongings onto the tiny hanging shelf above your bed, so it’s a difficult spot to turn back to the door. You can hear the door open and shut behind you and suddenly realise that whoever just walked in was probably met with your ass level to their head, sticking out as you bend over the bed. Scrambling to stand straighter on the ladder and shift your knees to the side, you turn your head to greet your new roommate.
You’d hoped that whoever walked in might’ve been on their phone or disinterested in you so that you didn’t have to talk to anyone, but you immediately make eye contact as soon as you turn towards him. If you’d met in any other way, you might first notice the dimples peeking out from behind a budding smile, or the hair that fans down his shoulders. But you don’t think that anyone would begrudge you for your first impression, which is that a naked, slightly dripping man is standing before you in nothing but a flimsy towel. His torso and arms are scattered with tattoos in a patchwork of black ink, the most prominent being a large butterfly on the centre of his abdomen. His hair is sopping wet and collecting in bunches along his collarbone, allowing droplets of water to travel past the butterfly and hit the pink towel settled low on his hips.
You have no idea how much time passes or how long you look down at his body, but he’s fully grinning by the time your eyes meet again. It’s a polite and friendly smile, but there’s also something in it that says, yeah, I saw you looking at my body. You probably weren’t very subtle, given how taken aback you were by his sudden and very naked appearance.
“Hello,” he says.
“Um, hi,” you reply as you awkwardly climb down from the metal bunk bed ladder. You absentmindedly rub at the inside of your arm that was digging in to the bunk’s railing while you were holding your body aloft and staring at the naked stranger.
“Guess we’re bunk mates, then?”
“I guess so,” is all that you can think to say.
You can’t place exactly where his accent is from, but you can tell that it’s from somewhere in England. From travelling a lot, you’re usually pretty good with picking specific accents after hearing someone speak for a little while. You’re already looking forward to listening to his voice more to try and work it out.
“Did you just get in?”
“Yeah, ‘bout ten minutes ago,” you tell him, realising that he must’ve known that already if you weren’t here before he left for his shower. You can’t tell if he’s actually interested in making friendly conversation or just trying to fill the awkward silence. Your eyes keep glancing down his body, almost of their own accord. He hasn’t made any effort to dry off his body or put on clothes, and seems to be nonchalant about his nakedness. He’s incredibly nice to look at, but you don’t want to be rude or creepy. You also don’t want him to bring back that knowing smirk that tells you he can see your wandering eyes.
“How long’re you staying for?”
He didn’t hesitate between questions or seem uncomfortable in the way that you felt and probably looked. It’s a bit of a relief that he’s clearly taken control of the conversation and it makes you feel a bit better about talking to this good looking naked stranger.
‘’I’m actually here a few weeks,” you tell him and his eyebrows shoot up.
“Wow,” he says with a whistle. “Why so long?”
No matter how much you travel, you’ve never mastered this kind of small talk. Especially in hostels where there can be a new roommate every day - it can get tiring asking the same questions and never getting further as people don’t care or leave too soon to make the effort. You wonder if he’s travelled so much that he’s just great at talking to people, or if he’s travelling for the first time and much more optimistic about the ability to make friends here.
“I’m kinda looking for work and seeing if I like the feel of the city enough to live here.”
He nods his head contemplatively, looking off to the side while taking his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger. His forehead is wrinkled in thought for a brief moment before he looks up at you with brighter eyes.
“I can show you around,” he says casually, “I mean, if you want.”
“Oh.” It comes out higher pitched than your normal voice, like your throat closed up a little bit at what his offer could mean. “Yeah, sure, thanks. That would be nice.”
His smile widens, teeth and dimples on full display. Your heart starts beating faster and you’re picking at your nails subconsciously as he begins to rifle through his pack for some clothing. He pulls out a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
“D’you mind, love?” You look up from the boxer briefs and meet his eyes, now clearly amused by your focus on his underwear. You feel a bit caught in the act, but you’re also enjoying what it seems to bring out in him.
“Right, of course.” Your eyebrows raise once you realise that he’s waiting for you to look away so that he can get dressed, so you turn to face the bed where you can’t see a thing.
You try to busy yourself by untangling some cables that got mixed up in your bag, but you freeze when you hear the sound of towel rubbing against skin. You can’t see him, but the sound alone and the thought of him drying himself right behind you causes a radiating heat to form between your legs. You can hear the rustle of fabric and the distinct slap of underwear elastic on skin. Your fingers move around the cables but they’re only trying to look busy instead of actually working to separate them. You’re too busy thinking about how your fingers would feel slipping under the elastic waistband of the Calvin Klein’s.
“Hey,” you say, cocking your head. “What’s your name?”
“Harry.”
“Nice to meet you, Harry.”
You introduce yourself with a smile, even though you’re still facing the bed and he can’t see you. Hopefully the warmth will translate into your voice – you can certainly hear the warmth in his. You think his name really suits him. You don’t know what it is, but it just seems right.
“You’re all good,” he says, and you take that to mean that he’s finally dressed. You turn back towards him to find him standing in a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and black shorts. You don’t think it’s quite hot enough for it – it may be summer, but it’s still Canada. You were just travelling through California, so it’ll take you some adjustment to feel warm in a t-shirt here.
“You can ride a bike, yeah?” He says as he takes a few steps backward to sit on the other bunk bed across the room. He has to bend his neck and head forward so that he doesn’t hit the metal of the top bunk. It’s such a small room that you’re still not very far apart, even though you haven’t moved from leaning against the bunk that’s yours and Harry’s.
“Yeah,” you tell him hesitantly, not wanting to reveal that you haven’t been on a bike in years. Even if you’d never been on one, you’d probably say yes anyway just to spend more time around him. At least you know how to ride a bike, so figure it’ll probably be fine given the phrase it’s just like riding a bike.
“Alrigh’, well ‘ve just gotta make a phone call real quick, d’you think you’ll be ready in about 20?”
“Sure… uh, where are we going?” You ask him, prompting a smirk.
“You’ll see.”
~
When Harry returns from his phone call, you’ve changed into an appropriate outfit for biking. You look up from your phone when you hear the sound of the keycard, and he opens the door just enough to poke his head through. His hair is dry and thrown into a bun, the flyaways held back by black sunglasses just behind his hairline.
“Ready?”
You nod and grab the tiny lightweight backpack that holds your phone, wallet, keycard and a water bottle. Your shorts didn’t have deep enough pockets to hold your things and you were not about to spend the rest of your day with Harry stressing about lost possessions. You’d brought a padlock to keep the rest of your valuables safe in the room’s small locker.
Harry leads the way on foot and you make light conversation while walking to wherever he has in mind. You find yourself needing to walk a bit faster than you usually do to keep up with his paces as he’s taller and has longer legs than you. While you’re tired, you’re happy that you get to warm up your legs a bit as your knees are still a bit sore from the cramped flight early this morning.
You don’t know what it is, considering you only just met, but there’s something that draws you to him. It wasn’t just pure attraction; there’s something captivating and electric about him that you don’t really know how to explain. You’ve never been that good at making small talk with strangers, but he leads the conversation in a way that makes you feel at ease and immediately comfortable. He lets you take time to think before responding to a question and doesn’t rush you. He’s funny, in an effortlessly charming way, and you find your cheeks hurting and shoulders relaxing before long. You find yourself so mesmerised by his warm smile that you forget to look around at the unfamiliar city around you.
Usually, you prefer to travel alone. If you could afford it, you would have stayed in a private room for your whole trip, but Vancouver is expensive and your stay would have been cut significantly shorter. This way, you’re able to get to know the city a bit better in your own time before rushing into finding a job.
You’ve travelled with friends before and it was always underwhelming, with you being the one to continuously compromise what you wanted to do in favour of someone else’s ideas. You’ve met backpackers before and enjoyed a chat, but this is the first time that you’ve actually wanted to spend time with someone you’ve just met and explore the city with them.
When you arrive at the bike rental, Harry insists on paying for your bike as well. You argue with him and repeatedly insist on paying for it yourself, but he’s unfazed by your persistence and you eventually give in. You’re surprised at his generosity, given that you barely know each other and he’s also sleeping in a cheap hostel dorm room.
Harry smoothly mounts his bike in one fluid motion and glances back towards you to wait until you’re ready to go. You attempt to do the same, but your shoelace gets tangled in one of the wheel’s gears and you stumble into the bike, just catching yourself from falling flat on your ass. You groan when you see that Harry had been watching and is now standing with a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. You roll your eyes at him and bend down to re-tie your loose shoelace, but your elbow hits the bike foot pedal on the way down. Harry cackles so hard that his eyes close tightly while you’re clutching your elbow in pain. Luckily, no one else on the street seemed to notice what happened. After a few more seconds of smug chucking, he gets off of his bike to help you. He looks you in the eye, suddenly more serious, and holds his hands out towards you as if asking if he can touch you. You nod your head and immediately forget that you were mortified by your lack of coordination just moments ago. He rests both hands on either side of your waist, very lightly pressing into your skin. His thumbs hit the hard underwire of your bra, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob in your peripheral vision. This time when you lift your leg over the bike, Harry steadies you and you successfully land on the seat, albeit a bit too hard.
You’ve now realised your newest problem. Harry’s hands linger on your waist for just a bit longer than they needed to, which you can feel through your t-shirt like a brand, and now there’s a solid pressure pushing in between your legs. It’s the perfect combination to heat your whole body up before you’ve even begun exercising. When he lets go, he avoids meeting your eyes and scrambles back onto the bike to get going. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the path ahead instead of the throbbing that’s trying to draw all of your attention towards its need. You force yourself forwards, very softly moaning at the feeling of moving back and forth on the firm seat. You worry that Harry heard you when he quickly turns his head back to you, but his expression gives nothing away. You mentally zip your mouth shut and try to think of anything other than Harry’s tensed calves and prominent back muscles under his shirt.
It’s only a few minutes of riding when you arrive at the beginning of the Seawall, a snaking bike path that winds around the enormous Stanley Park. You’d already read about it and planned to do some hiking here.
“Gorgeous, innit?” Harry says.
It’s so beautiful that you’re speechless. The harbour curves around the park and continues farther than you can see, and the mixture of greens within the trees is replicated just as vividly in the still water below. The path separates the park from the water and creates a barrier that makes it feel like the boundary between worlds. As the park curves to where you can’t see it, the sight is taken over by the city skyline of North Vancouver, also reflected in the water. The result is a breathtaking vision of opposites and how they can come together in harmony, and you feel emotion well in your chest for some reason. Harry is looking at you, curious as to what you’re thinking about, but unwilling to interrupt your processing.
You come out of your reverie at the sound of a child laughing somewhere nearby. Harry doesn’t ask you anything but watches you closely with curious eyes. He then kicks off from the ground and gestures to you to follow him along the winding path.
The bike lane is too narrow to ride alongside each other, so you follow closely behind him. You notice and appreciate that he glances behind him every few minutes to ensure that you’re still there. You allow yourself to drift off into a state of ease that comes along with your body’s rhythmic movements and the peaceful scenery around you. The winding path is a good distraction, as it forces you to focus on not crashing instead of the pulsing that you can feel emanating from your pelvis.
You’ve ridden around the Seawalk far enough that you can no longer see downtown Vancouver by the time Harry stops for a drink of water. He jumps off of his bike with a childish energy and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with one hand. He turns around to kick out the bike stand and you can see the sheen of sweat shining on his neck and leading to a dark patch on the centre of his t-shirt on his back.
You carefully remove yourself from your bike, mindful not to stumble again, and feel a rush once the pressure is removed from between your legs. You’re partly relieved by the feeling, worried that your pubic bone might be bruised, and partly wishing that you could immediately get back on to help satisfy the itch that has unexpectedly arisen this afternoon. You drink some water, stretch your legs and walk towards the water’s edge to enjoy the view of dense pine trees and distant snowy mountains. Harry’s behind you, writing on his phone and swallowing large sips of water one after the next.
When you’re ready to continue on, you turn to find Harry sitting on a bench and watching you with a gentle smile on his face.
“Ready?” You ask him, and he grins wider because this is the first time you’ve really initiated a conversation. One word was definitely a start, and he can work on that.
“Ready,” he confirms and grabs his bike with a renewed enthusiasm.
This time when you mount your bike, the seat feels slightly softer and more cushioned against your front from how wet you’ve become without release. You shift your hips back and forth to get comfortable and let out a light sigh at the feeling. When you find a position that will be manageable to get you through the rest of the ride, you look up to find Harry looking at you with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted. You have no doubt that he watched your display, and his expression gives away his seeming understanding of your current predicament. He closes his mouth and averts his eyes in a hurry, hopping on his bike and kicking away from the curb at once. You follow behind him, thinking about how his eyes bore into your skin before he took off. You’re hot, but your arm hairs stand on end thinking about that piercing glare.
You ride for quite a while longer, lost in your thoughts and the hypnotising motion of your body’s rhythm. Eventually you arrive back where you started at the bike shop to return them and walk back to the hostel. The walk back with Harry is a bit different to the way there, as there is now a palpable tension between you that neither of you want to acknowledge. The only other differences are the shift of the sun in the sky and the sweat soaking through your t-shirts.
When you return to the hostel, you’re exhausted and want to take a nap but you feel disgusting and don’t want to deal with the anxiety of sleeping in the top bunk until you absolutely need to. It’s later in the afternoon than you thought it’d be, as you were enjoying yourself so much with Harry that you forgot to keep track of the time. You both return to your room and Harry slumps down on his bed and starts scrolling through his phone. There’s still no one else here, but one of the packs has moved and is now perched on top of the other lower bunk bed. You’re standing in the middle of the room, undecided on what to do with yourself.
“Might shower, I feel pretty gross,” you say out loud to no one in particular.
Harry looks up from his phone and nods, giving you a look that you can’t quite decipher. It’s a swapping of roles – earlier, you’d been the one to gesture instead of verbally respond. You wonder what changed for him and briefly think back to the same meaningful looks he shot you when you were riding your bikes. You turn your back to him and open your pack to grab your travel towel, toiletries and a change of clothes; careful to hide your underwear and bra in between your other clothes. You can feel that Harry’s eyes are on your back, but make no move to acknowledge him.
You’ve never touched yourself in a hostel shower before as it felt too weird when right next to other occupied stalls, but this hostel has a few standalone individual shower blocks and you’ve been feeling the need since you first turned around to see Harry naked in that pink towel. You make sure to be silent and quick, and end up more relieved and relaxed than you remember being in a while.
When you return to the room, Harry’s nowhere to be found. You weren’t expecting him to wait around for you but your heart still sinks a little in your chest. You have to remind yourself that you only met him this morning and he’s a virtual stranger that already spend the whole afternoon with you.
You walk down the street until you find a sushi restaurant that a girl at the hostel’s front desk recommended. In the end, you’re happy to spend some time alone after your social afternoon to think and recharge your energy. You write in your travel journal, describing your afternoon with Harry and marking off Stanley Park on your ‘to do’ list. After dinner, you walk the streets aimlessly to get more of a feel for the city and its people, and you do some window shopping.
By the time you return to the hostel, it’s dark and you’re tired enough to head straight to bed. There’s a man already sleeping in the other top bunk, and a girl is folding clothes into a suitcase strewn across the small space. Harry’s not here. The girl smiles and waves politely at you, luckily uninterested in a conversation. You’re not in the mood to speak to someone new and you don’t want to wake the sleeping man. You tiptoe around the girl’s suitcase and begin to clamber up to your bunk, heart rate beginning to rise as you climb. You’re proud of yourself for facing your fear, but still can’t help but feel the familiar heavy panic settle under your skin. You figure that your anxiety has to eventually settle as you don’t have much of a choice but to sleep here at this point. You try to distract yourself by reading for a bit with your back safely against the wall, but you can still feel the restless energy coursing through your body and twisting through your mind. You count the spots on the ceiling and get to 326 before someone turns off the overhead light. You try listening to music, meditating, playing a game on your phone. You think about all of the places in the world you’d like to go to that you haven’t been yet, and make up lists of your favourite albums and movies. Your heart rate goes down a bit, but you still can’t sleep. Your mind won’t shut off and stop replaying the terrifying moment that you fell from your camp bed and broke your arm. That whole ordeal was so traumatising that you dreamt about it for months after it happened, waking up as you were about to hit the ground with a hard thump. You’ve avoided bunk beds since, and even started to forget that it was a fear of yours. You’d thought that it would be fine seeing as you’re an adult now and no longer the scared child that badly broke her arm and suffered nightmares from it. But clearly, it’s still an issue.
At some point, the door opens and the metal frame shakes under the weight of Harry climbing into the bottom bed. Your whole body tenses up with terror, convinced that you’re going to fall through and crush him. A sweat breaks out behind your neck at the image playing through your mind. Harry shifts around the bed to get comfortable and the creaks of the frame bounce around your brain like music in a horror film. You’re laying there so long that you start to daydream of flipping a switch somewhere inside you to just turn off. You can tell when Harry is asleep, because you can hear his slow, heavy breathing. You can tell that whoever is snoring is sleeping in the other bunk across the room. You’ve heard far worse in the other few hostels you’ve slept in, so you’re not too bothered by it. As you lie in the dark, you become so delirious that you can’t even tell if your eyes are open or not. The only thing you think about without falling back into the worst of your anxiety is your day with Harry.
~
You must have fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion at some point, because you wake to the sound of whispering. It may be your delirious state, but you don’t think that you’re hearing English. Listening for a minute, it sounds like Japanese, which you can’t understand but recognise from its unique sound. You open your eyes the tiniest bit and groan at the harsh light that immediately wakes you in the most unpleasant way.
The whispering abruptly stops and you can sense that there are eyes on you. You rub at your eyes and open them to the blurred image of Harry standing with the other girl in your room. You’re so confused and tired that you can’t really process anything and just stare at them until your vision becomes clearer. The man who you’d only seen asleep last night is no longer here and his bed is stripped of sheets. Harry’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and gym shorts. He smiles at you, which you try to reflect back to him but feel like your face isn’t fully cooperating as it’s a bit paralysed from sleep.
The girl looks between the two of you and then says something to Harry in Japanese before she leaves the room. He responds with what is clearly a goodbye. You’d thought that hearing Japanese was part of a dream, but you must have overheard their conversation while still half-asleep.
“You okay? You don’t look so great.”
Harry is watching you closely, looking way too alive and wide-eyed for the early hour.
“Thanks for that, how lovely,” you say through a yawn.
“No, I just mean you look tired, love. Not the most comfortable bed, huh?”
Your mind is split between wanting to melt from the pet name and tell him off for saying that you look like shit. But to be fair, you feel like shit, so it makes sense that you’d look the same.
“Yeah, didn’t really sleep ‘s all,” you tell him.
He tilts his head at you.
“Why not?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, but he clearly doesn’t believe you.
“So I didn’t tire you out enough yesterday, then?”
For a second your mind goes somewhere entirely inappropriate and you blame your lack of sleep and anxiety-riddled brain for the thought of what else he could’ve done to tire you out. You hope that he can’t read what you’re thinking about on your face.
“I was tired enough, just couldn’t sleep. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, you need your sleep.” His concern seems genuine. “It’s not ‘cause the bed isn’t comfortable, is it?”
You don’t say anything, which is answer enough for him.
“What is it?” He prompts when you don’t elaborate.
“It’s stupid.”
“I promise I won’t laugh or judge or say anything. And it’s probably not stupid,” he says.
“Okay… well. I just have some anxiety about sleeping on a top bunk,” you say, and continue once you notice that he hasn’t reacted. “Since I fell off as a kid and broke my arm.”
You brace yourself for a joke or a mocking comment like you’ve received so many times in the past, but none comes.
“I’m sorry, that’s terrible,” he says. His brow furrows in genuine concern. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday, love?”
Your heart leaps up into your throat once again at him calling you love.
“What, I’d just poke my head down and ask if we could swap beds in the middle of the night because I can’t get over myself?”
“Who said anything about swapping?”
You’re showing the confusion on your face clear as day, so he continues until you catch on to his comment.
“I mean, you could’ve just slept with me instead,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t’ve minded.”
You don’t even know how to respond, not used to anyone being so forward and suggestive, and he cracks up at your shocked speechlessness. It’s like he’s enjoying how uncomfortable he can suddenly make you and he’s using this power to his advantage. You laugh and feel the tightness in your chest ease up just a little. He didn’t make fun of you, or dismiss your irrational fear. In fact, he made you feel a bit better and lightened the mood.
“But in all seriousness, don’t say that,” he says quietly.
“Don’t say what?”
“That you can’t get over yourself. Anxiety and panic attacks are serious, it’s not your fault.”
You’re speechless for a minute, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to admit that your self-deprecation is just as crippling as your anxiety is. It’s one thing to hear that from a doctor or a psychologist, but hearing it from Harry feels different. It isn’t his job to say it - he means it and it’s something that you knew but still really needed to hear.
“I’ll swap with you.”
“No no, you’re already settled and it’s not fair to make you-”
“I insist, it’s really not a problem at all.”
You smile at him, grateful but a bit strained. You’re relieved that you’ll get some sleep from now on, but you also don’t want him to pity you. There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence that you fill by scrolling through your phone for the Vancouver attractions you want to go to today. Harry is also on his phone, typing away. He looks up after a minute, returning to how he’d been acting before you told him about your anxiety. He speaks around a wide, cheeky grin.
“So, what are we doing today?”
PART 2
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles mini fic#harry styles fic#writing#my writing#one direction#one direction fan fiction#one direction fic#harry styles x you#fanfiction#a long way from home#alwfh
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Alright, behind a cut, from a PM talking about ALWFH, in case anyone from that post comes here wondering wtf I’m talking about. Feel free to message me or comment of course for more info but this is all I can do for the moment, responses will come later. Spoilers for the fic, and some very quick explanations for the themes of it and why it’s not rape-glorifying(rape is mentioned in this but not explicitly described, PLEASE use caution):
And yeah, the thing to remember is...in it, pearls are considered non-sentient things. They're what homeworld used to make gems before injection drills/kindergartens. Jasper thinks she's recalibrating a neglected, broken piece of machinery(for lack of a better term) so Pearl can be properly questioned as an informant. As far as she knows, it's not rape. It's smacking a computer a few times and running a heavy anti-virus check/defrag operation so you can get the files you need off of it.
And the fic then goes into Pearl going EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF Y'ALL, I AM SENTIENT, THAT WAS WRONG, YOU NEED TO TREAT ME LIKE A SENTIENT REAL GEM BECAUSE I AM ONE and Jasper slowly starts to realize "ohhhh shit I done fucked up oh no" etc.
Right now in the fic, they're literally in the middle of smuggling out hundreds of abandoned pearls in an old defunct breeding facility and sending them to Earth where they can be free
And Jasper is rightfully disgusted with how these pearls have been treated, and had a bit of an emotional breakdown over how some of the pearls, as traumatized as they were, TRUST her. Not just Pearl, not just Peridot(peridots were a gem type that worked in the facility before it was abandoned, so she's a "friendly face" to them), but HER, a gem type that used to come in to abuse them without even considering it abuse. Like..."Gems like me did horrible things to them and some are just...sitting next to me and trusting me to help them??? this is A Lot ow my heart" etc. etc.
#angie babbles#alwfh#abuse tw#rape tw#the beginning chapters are meant to be awful and upsetting#but it's only like that for a short time#right now it's...wow#like again please do avoid the fic if you need to#it is INTENSE#but stop calling it things it isn't
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WOW THREE NEW PEARLS!! oh my goodness!
these pearls are all batchmates and were created to be a fixture of a fancy “hotel” where gems come from all over to have meetings, celebrations, and more! they are not owned by any one gem, but rather by the facility itself, in a way.
more details about each of them individually under the cut!
first up, Lavender Pearl! Lavender is tasked with doing laundry for the hotel. so blankets, fabric clothing for gems who have them, towels, things like that. she’s a firecracker and is determined to get wisp and pistachio the things they want, so when she’s gathering up laundry in gem’s rooms she’ll snoop around, dig up dirt on them, and blackmail them into getting her what she wants. she’ll typically target gems who she knows have something she wants or have heckled wisp or pistachio while they were working with one of them. since its a hotel, she usually finds out mostly about other gem’s forbidden relationships or hobbies/other items they arent supposed to have. if youre not careful and don’t get her what she wants, she’ll “air your dirty laundry” HA!
next is Pistachio Pearl! Pistachio is sort of like a spa worker and fixes up gems who have the money for it for whatever event they’re going to. she can do their nails, brush/style their hair, polish gems, do skin and hair treatments,things like that. she really enjoys what she does, and prefers to be able to spend extended lengths of time with one gem at a time. she’s a huge romantic and dreams of one day being swept off her feet by a grand strong gem who sees her as more than “just a pearl” and escaping into the next galaxy with them. maybe someday Pistachio, dont give up hope!
and finally, White South Sea Pearl aka Wisp (WSSP)! she was deemed the prettiest of the bunch, and is what they call a “plush pearl”, having soft fat well distributed across her body. she spends most of her time at the entryway singing and being nice for gems to look at. when shes able to spend time with pistachio and lavender she LOVES to talk, and even more than that loves to read! shes got a knack for absorbing knowledge and being able to re-tell it with ease. she doesnt particularly care for the work she does, but it does give her time to listen to other gems talking and learn new things from them.
they all adore spending time together when they’re able to, and are very close. i originally wanted to create these pearls to submit for @mamabutts‘s fic ALWFH (and am still going to!), but i decided that they also need their own canon too, so I made that as well!
also, if you want to read the fic, be sure to read the warnings and proceed with caution! i love it, its helped me work through a lot of personal stuff, and has absolutely incredible character development, but has some very dark themes especially in the beginning and could be potentially triggering. just FYI! 💕
#steven universe#gem oc#lavender pearl#pistachio pearl#white south sea pearl#wisp#i have been working on these three for a few days now and im really happy with the result!!!#ive been making up little stories for them in my head and all this#idk how much ill work with them but theyre still fun to make sometimes!#like moss's team lol i love them all so much but like#dont always feel like drawing them?? sometimes i do sometimes i dont!#making pearls was fun tho my last ones were all big fighting quartzes lol#i hope u all like them!
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