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#he's so unbelievably stupid i cannot
mysicklove · 11 months
Note
i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time
𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘
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Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds
A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!
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Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.
He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.
He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.
It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.
But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.
He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.
Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.
He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.
He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.
“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.
Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”
You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”
He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”
You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”
He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”
“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.
He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.
“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.
He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.
You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”
He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.
He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.
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He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.
When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”
You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.
“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.
You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”
“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.
You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.
But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.
You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.
He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.
“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”
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Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.
“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.
“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.
He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”
You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.
You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”
He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.
You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.
Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.
He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.
“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”
He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”
You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.
“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.
“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.
You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.
He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”
“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”
He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.
He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.
He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.
“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.
“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.
“So needy.”
“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.
“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”
You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.
He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.
Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.
He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.
You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.
When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.
Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N
He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.
So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.
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doki-doki-imagines · 3 months
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Hello <3 I have an idea for a request. Linkuei trio (and if you want other characters too) are having an argument with the reader, but suddenly she gives them a kiss to silence them. How would they feel or react? Sorry if this is stupid, I saw it in a novel and I liked it 😔
author note: this is not a stupid request, you idiot(lmao)! It is a scrummy idea that oiled my brain gears, so thank you🫶🏻. One last thing, the reader is already Tomas s/o in his part.
Bi-Han:
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-Sektor, your friend, finally has a date with his crush. Honestly you are happy for him. It's already a miracle someone could suffer him for more than 12 hours and still wanting to kiss him dumb. -But between him and his date there is an obstacle: Bi-Han, your boss. -Your work is pretty different from theirs, but Bi-Han saw in you a precious resource, so he decided to keep you after Sektor brang you to him. -Being a precious resource means that you also have to hear him yap and throw a tantrum in your and Sektor shared kitchen, walking left and right like a madman waiting to block the scientist from his romantic date. -"They aren't right for him." "I should be his only thought." "They aren't even Lin Kuei!" -You listen to him, his words entering from an ear and exiting from the other without being elaborated in your brain, your ass sit tight on the chair with no real intention of standing up to calm him down. -It's unbelievable how you got a crush for this man-child. -"Why can't Sektor be happy? Having a distraction is nice, plus his brain can have more stimulus interacting with someone else." Bi-Han opens his mouth and you are sure he tells you something but your brain shut down the moment his lips open, not being ready to hear another chant of "No Lin Kuei" "He cannot-" and blah blah blah. -But you have a mission, one that you accepted after seeing Sektor getting on his knees and begging for your help. "Please distract Bi-Han while I run out from the house." -Clock is ticking, and you know the hour of the date is approaching. You are already tired, the flood of words from the usually silent grandmaster filled your ears for the year to come. -Then you decide to act. -"Plus they can't be good because-" Words hang in the air. You finally lift yourself up from the chair, just to grab the collar of Bi-Han uniform and kiss him, or better kiss his upper lip since his mouth was wide open. -You break the touch, hoping that now his scolding will be directed to you long enough for Sektor to escape. -What you don't expect is to see the kitchen twirl, and to find yourself cornered between the fridge and the kitchen island, back on the cold wall, front against a even colder chest, icy mouth sucking yours, teeth playing with your lower lip. -His fingers grip is hard, leaving indents in the back of your thighs trying to pull them up, around his hips. -You follow his implicit order, like a doll in the owner hands, his crotch now dangerously close to yours, tongue overpowering yours, their dance played in your warm mouth. -Bi-Han end the kiss, his thin lips just an inch away from yours, a heavy breath coming out from his nose. "You are not doing this to distract me from Sektor, right?" You try to look around, then your eyes land again on his face, on his dark and deep eyes. "Totally. Do you wanna stop?" "Absolutely not." His lips are back on yours, devouring you as a delicious meal. -Sektor is able to sneak away, between your shared groans and mewls, a smirk on his face. He is happy that his friend was finally able to get with Bi-Han. -Do you have a crush for Bi-Han? Well, you will be astounished when you'll find out he has been obsessed with you for far longer.
Kuai Liang:
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-"Liang listen to me!" "No! I've already decided." -You follow him through the chambers of his mansion as best as you can since he is almost running. -"It is an important package, and I'm the only one free that can deliver it to Lord Liu Kang. Let me-" "For the last time, no." Liang finally turns around, eyes firm and eyebrows furrowed, making you take a step back for how big and imposing he looks right now. -"But why…I know I'm not a strong warrior but-" You feel your voice breaking and you hate it, but as a side effect Liang expression softens up. His hands that were tight on his side now reach for your cheeks. "Don't cry." "I'm not. But the world is at risk Liang! My life has no value compared to-" -You can't finish the phrase, your grandmaster soft lips shutting you up. Liang removes himself immediately, your kiss lasting as long as a blink of an eye, his soft black eyes looking at you. -He even crouches a little, waiting to understand your reaction, his thick fingers drawing circles on the apple of your cheeks, removing some tears that slip your eyes. -Liang decides to be the first to talk, breaking the silence. "There is no world for me if you aren't in it. No world matters if you don't live in it. Don't go 'till I get back." His forehead knocks against yours, eyes now closed, and his feelings for you now clear. -You gasp, no words leave your mouth, no muscle moving. Not until Liang opens his eyes again, and finally, your body works. -And Liang sees it, the same fire that burns him alive every time he looks at you, that turns to ashes any thought that isn't you, monopolising his entire being. -This kiss is way more intense, your hands grip his collar, pushing him close to your body, not a single gap for air. His right hand rests tight on the back of your head while the other slips lower, massaging and groping. -If only he had a bit more of time… -"I have to go now, fireball." Liang whispers to your lips. "Don't go until I'm back. Be good, and we will be able to do this and much more." He smirks, eyes full of mirth. -You nod. This time he won.
Tomas Vrbada:
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-"You are wrong and being stubborn." "I know what I'm talking about. You are being contrarian!" -You both are walking at Madame Bo restaurant, customers long gone, just the two of you arguing. -Why? Who remembers, you just know you want to be right and Tomas is on the same wavelength. -"You know I am right. You are just being childish." He tells you, with that damn finger pointing at you. Of all the habits he could take from his big brother, the finger-pointing one irate you like nothing else. -You look at him, Tomas looks delightful, cheeks slightly red from anger, his eyes magnetic, and he reeks confidence. Maybe you don't mind this side. -"You always want to win. You are such a younger brother." You can't hear it, but you see something snapping in his brain. You struck a nerve, and his mind is ready to throw a reply that will literally devour you. -But your mind is faster, finding a solution that won't make you win, but also won't make Tomas explode. -Your lips push against his ones, and after a second of surprise Tomas reciprocates, much angrier than you, much more forceful. -You soon find your back against one of the wooden tables of the restaurant. Tomas grips an angle of tablecloth and pushes it down, the tableware following, breaking into pieces. He doesn't seem to mind, breaking the kiss just to push you on the table. -Madame Bo will kill both of you. -Tomas starts to kiss down your neck, kisses soon turns into small bites. "T-Tomas." He looks at you, mouth still dangerously close to your neck. "Do you even remember why we started arguing?" His smile wicked, his usual angelic face looking devilish. "Fuck no. For sure, it wasn't as good as this-" You gasp, Tomas teeth sinking into the skin of your throat. "I agree with you." "Then come back here, I haven't finished kissing you." "Yes, ma'am." -Fingers skillfully untie the strings of his uniform, your pants being pulled down as quickly. -You are right at the end. The method of fermentation of Tomas' favourite radish isn't as interesting as this.
BONUS:
Anon don't gatekeep, say the name of the novel.
No fr I'm curious.
Maybe if I read I can also yk, improve lol.
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inpraizeof · 11 months
Text
if you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces
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anthony bridgerton x reader
synopsis: a drunk mistake and a stupid maid leads to a rekindling of what once was..
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the way his hands felt on your body was still fresh, as if you had been branded by the viscount. he was a constant in your mind, his breath still lingered hot.
“fuck!” your hands knocked all of the items off the desk. you threw yourself into the chair and pulled open the drawers, rummaging for any piece of parchment and a quill.
your brain ached at the thought of him, the fabric of his shirt could still be felt tightening under your fingers…
anthony bridgerton. anthony bridgerton. anthony bridgerton. anthony bridgerton. anthony bridge-
the quill snapped under the pressure just as you finished the last line on the page.
the lines seemed to blur on the way down but you kept going, finding another quill and beginning again on the other side. you shook with the fury as you kept writing, the candle burning brighter, the wax melting faster.
“ma’am.” jane’s voice as she pulled the curtains open, awoke you. you groaned at the sunlight that struck your face.
“jane, i’d prefer that you don’t let this ghastly light in so early in the day.” you covered your eyes as you sat up, legs crawling to the edge of the bed.
jane seemed to hold a laugh, “it’s half past noon.”
you stood up with a shock, “what?” you smoothed a hand down the front of your nightgown and brought an arm around your back, stretching slightly.
“you were up all night in the study. you deserve to sleep in! but don’t worry, i sent the letter out with the footman.” jane walked over to the wardrobe and began to pull out gowns galore.
“jane, what letter?” you thought back to the night prior and hummed, “i didn’t even put that letter in an envelope, or with a sea-“
jane smiled, “i did that all for you. don’t worry.”
as if shock wasn’t enough, but the rage you felt when she spoke was enough to kill the birds on the sill.
“thank god i fired her. what kind of maid thinks she even has-“ you threw your hands up, rubbing your eyes, “i just hope whatever was in that letter is nothing bad. i was terribly drunk on the wine when i decided to walk to the study.” you cleared your throat, and your sister laughed, her head throwing itself back.
“you are unbelievable!” she laughed, “did she ever say who it was addressed to?”
you shook your head, “i have no idea. i say, whatever response i get it’ll be a surprise.” you tried to reserve yourself to not caring about the letter, but you had a bad habit of making problems for yourself.
“let me see it again.” he held his hand out to his brother and anthony reluctantly handed it over, “it’s all the same, what else could possibly have changed?” he was exasperated, having been staring at the contents of the letter all morning.
“are we sure it’s from her? positive?” benedict set the letter down and anthony shrugged, “it’s her seal.”
benedict nodded, “very well. what do you plan to do about it? what if she expects a response?”
anthony scoffed, “you cannot be serious, brother.”
benedict laughed, “what else do you want me to be? im not the one who wrote you a letter with just your name, written over and over again.”
anthony shook his head, “it just doesn’t make any sense- it’s been years.” anthony grabbed the letter and folded it, stuffing it back into the envelope, “i’ll just talk to her! what’s the harm if this,” he moved the letter in his hands, “has already been sent. perhaps it was a mistake, surely she’d love to clear that up.”
benedict agreed, even choosing to ignore the agitated state that his brother was going towards.
his hands tightened around your thighs, “anthony-“ you cried, your back thumping against the wardrobe, “anthony, fuck!” you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss, “oh-“ you tightened around him, his face complete bliss as he held you up, “good girl.” he praised, “good fucking girl.” he was breathless as he thrusted into you weakly.
“wife.” your husbands voice broke into your thoughts as he slid over a letter to you, the letter catching itself under your dinner plate, “it seems like the viscount had asked for tea. is there any reason why?”
you looked at the letter with surprise, “hm.” you grabbed the letter but didn’t dare open it, “must be from his mother. i ran into her and her daughters at the modiste.”
violet had to do a double take when she saw you. her words caught in her throat as she stared past her daughters and at you, walking into the shop.
“mama?” eloise waved her hand in front of her mothers face, and violet snapped back, “yes? im sorry, i must’ve dozed off!” she clapped her hands and tried to focus on her daughters dress, “my that looks lovely, eloise!”
eloise scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her, “this is the dress i was already wearing when we came in.”
daphne laughed slightly, “mama, is there somethin-“ she looked at her mothers line of vision and saw you. daphne couldn’t help but smile, seeing you was a treat, “oh.” she looked away and turned to eloise, “get on with it then.” eloise didn’t bother to see what her mother and sister were gawking at and instead walked into one of the private dressing rooms.
“that’s the viscount’s seal.” your husband pointed out, but you shook your head, “they’re all bridgertons, shouldn’t they all have the same seal?” you tried to brush it off, but now you were beginning to get worried.
why had he sent you a letter for tea?
you stood up, tucking the letter under your arm, you exited quietly, your husband’s eyebrows raised as you walked out.
anthony paced the room, his coat long shed with the nerves. you were supposed to arrive for tea twenty minutes ago. unless you had denied his invitation and he just-
“viscount bridgerton.” your voice was like a chorus of angels to his ears. in you came, stopping to give a smile and the proper entrance.
he tried to pretend as if he hadn’t just been pacing the room, clearing his throat and waving a hand to one of the seats. he sat across from you, the desk separating the two of you.
“this is hardly the usual setting for some tea..” you trailed off as you looked around the study. it was awkward, especially as you gazed at the mahogany desk that you’ve been bent over hundreds of times.
anthony nodded, “there’s no tea. if you allow me to speak freely,” he gazed at you, an unreadable expression on his face, but you nodded, and he continued. “this,” he paused again, turning around to rummage the cabinets behind him for the letter, “arrived two mornings ago. with your seal.”
you were speechless.
your fingers pawed at the letter, tracing the angry lines you laughed, “oh my.”
anthony shook his head, “is there a reason you sent this or?”
you laughed hard again, “oh my god! this is what that stupid maid sent out?” you tossed the letters back to him and slumped down in the seat, laughing again.
anthony was in disbelief, he had been taking this entire situation seriously and here you were, laughing! he grabbed the letters and sighed, “i’m so stupid.” he mumbled.
“what?” you broke out of your hysterical fit and stared at the now defeated anthony, who was clutching the letters.
“i thought-“ he cut himself off, “im sorry. this is all a misunderstanding. the maid wrote this?”
“no. i wrote it, i was drunk, i didn’t think anyone would ever see it, im the one who’s sorry.” you bowed your head, “it was a mistake, anthony.” you stood up, “i should go. forgive me for all of this.”
anthony stood up and ran to the door, his back against it, “don’t. don’t go.” he hesitated to say it, and you laughed, “i cannot stay. im a married woman, i shouldn’t even be alone with you-“
anthony stared at you now, “really? you could’ve said that five minutes ago. why do you suddenly care?”
“why do i suddenly care? because i’m married, i am a proper woman of society-“
“not when you were letting me bed you unwed but-“
“are you serious?” your speech overlapped his and the two of you stared at each other with disbelief at one another’s words.
“no! i am not. i am the one who was stupid enough to believe you had come back to me. im the one who thought this,” he held the letter in his hand, “was love! i thought that finally,” he inhaled sharply, his volume dropping as he tried to calm himself, “you were admitting that you were wrong.” those deep dark pools of chocolate stared at you, his eyes glinting with tears.
you were breathless, the words ceasing to fall as the two of you just stared at one another once more, but your eyebrows furrowed slightly.
until your lips crashed into his, and his hands immediately found their way to your neck, bringing you in closer that you could feel your nose hurting against his face.
you pulled away, and for a moment the world had stopped as you stared.
“i-“ he cut you off by kissing you again, his back thumping against the door as you leaned hard on him. your body pushed up against his and anthony was struggling to find the lacing of your corset.
as you felt yourself breathe in more air, the corset loosened and you pulled back.
“no.” you whispered, staring at anthony, who’s hair was dishelved and his collar was unbuttoned, “we can’t. i cant.” you panted, “anthony im sorry.”
anthony shook his head, “it’s alright. it’s my fault for thinking things could’ve been different. that you would actually love me-“
“i do! i do love you, anthony. there is not a day where i don’t wake up with your name on the tip of my tongue! i imagine us, our bodies intertwined and my lips on your body. but we can’t! it’s too late.”you tried to fix your corset and instead all you did was let out a frustrated sob.
“we could’ve been together. you refused to even give us a chance.” he shook his head.
“i didn’t refuse. we were never meant to be. cant you see that? we haven’t spoken in years and our first conversation has already turned us into a mess. this,” you pointed to him and to yourself, “was doomed from the beginning.”
anthony sniffled, “if that���s what you think.”
“i always have.” you responded, your voice breaking slightly, you fixed your corset as best as you could, “good day, viscount.”
anthony watched as you exited, the door closing loudly, “good day.” he spoke to no one, the room feeling empty as ever.
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xiaq · 11 months
Text
Thanks for all the prompts! I combined a few: Outsider POV, getting together with the help of friends, Steve Harrington is an Idiot (affectionate), Rocky Horror, and “did we almost just kiss?”
“Robin,” Steve says, before he’s even fully in the Family Video door. “I’m having a crisis.”
She shoves another VHS tape into the rewinder. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” He whines, collapsing face-first onto the counter.
“I mean no. I don’t have time for a crisis right now. We just finished a crisis and I require at least fifteen business days between crises. I do not have the bandwidth.”
“It’s not like a crisis, crisis,” he mutters. “It’s…a personal crisis.”
She flicks the side of his head. “What is the nature of this personal crisis?”
He rolls his face so his cheek is pressed to the laminate. He meets her eyes. “How did you know you liked girls?”
“Oh,” Robin says. The tape rewinder clicks but she doesn’t move. “Oh. Yeah, we can handle this crisis now. It’s long overdue.”
“Long over—” Steve straightens, weight on his elbows. “What?”
“Honestly I thought we were going to have this conversation during the whole Rocky Horror Picture Show thing but––”
“Robin”
“Sorry. Right. I knew I liked girls because I liked girls. I knew I liked girls because I wanted to kiss girls.”
“Yeah. But how did you know it was more than the normal amount?”
“…the normal amount,” she repeats.
“Well sure,” he scrubs a hand through his hair. “Everyone wants to kiss everyone a little bit, right? Like. How did you know it was more than the normal heterosexual amount?”
Robin cannot believe she’s going to have to say this out loud. She glances around the empty store just to make sure no one has somehow teleported in during the last two minutes.
“Steve. Steven. There is no normal heterosexual amount of wanting to kiss people of the same gender.”
He crosses his arms. “Well, that can’t be right.”
“Hold on. Wait. What boys have you wanted to kiss?” She can guess, but confirmation would be nice.
“Are you sure that––”
“Yes, I’m sure. But back to the boys you’ve wanted to kiss. Have you…acted on that, ever?
“Yeah but just the––oh. Well. You’re probably going to say there isn’t a normal heterosexual amount of kissing the same gender either.”
“How are you this stupid.”
“I mean, everyone messes around with their friends at some point, right?”
“I desperately wish that was true,” Robin answers. “Because if it was, I would not be standing here at 19 years old finding out that Steve Harrington has kissed a boy before I kissed a girl. Jesus. Wait. How many boys have you kissed?”
“Three?”
“Three? Unbelievable.”
Except now he’s wearing his big-eyed, floppy-haired sad expression and she knows, she knows she’s not handling this the way she should.
Robin sighs. “Ok, I’m sorry. Thank you for trusting me with this. I love you and I’m here for you and it sounds like you’re bisexual. Which is actually pretty cool because that means I know two whole queer people other than myself in Hawkins. Well. Probably three. But that hasn’t been officially confirmed.”
“Bi-sexual.” He rolls the word around in his mouth like he’s tasting it. “Bisexual. Huh. Okay.”
“It means you like both. Or, any, I guess. Which no, is not normal for everyone.”
“Okay. Bisexual. Neat. Who else do you know?”
She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Right. That would be super uncool of you to tell me without their permission. But, um. Are they people I know?”
“They’re people you know.”
“Are they over the age of 16?”
“One of them is.”
The hopeful look on Steve’s face is actually a little gross.
“Are they–”
“Eddie!” Robin says, “hey, what are you doing here so early?”
Steve’s reaction to Eddie pushing open the door provides all the confirmation she needs about which boy Steve currently wants to kiss. Not that there was a lot of uncertainty there anyway. He’d practically kept vigil at Eddie’s bedside while he was in the hospital and in the last month since Eddie was released, they’ve become weirdly inseparable. Half the time when Robin calls in the middle of the night to talk though her nightmares, it’s Eddie answering the Harrington phone. And when no one answers the Harrington phone, a call to the Munson phone will usually do the trick. She’s tempted to think they’re already together except Eddie’s pining has only gotten worse over the last week. If they were banging he’s be less insufferable. Well. He might still be insufferable but in like, a happy, well-fucked way. She doesn’t want to think about that.
“Eddie,” Steve says, “hi.”
“...hi,” Eddie says, understandably confused by Steve’s strangled greeting. He rocks back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in the pockets of a pair of black jeans that are, for once, not ripped. “So. Big news.” He spreads his arms. “You are now looking at a gainfully, legally, employed, upstanding citizen of Hawkins.”
Robin isn’t really surprised. The owner of the auto shop across the street that Eddie applied to is friends with Wayne and a regular at Hideout. If there’s anyone who’s willing to look past Eddie’s poor reputation, it’s him. And Eddie had gotten some sort of automotive certificate the year before in shop class. One of the few things he’d passed with flying colors.
“Oh my god,” Steve says. He stumbles over to hug him and then twirls him around like they’re in one of the stupid romcom videos on the back wall. “Eddie,” Steve says again, this time so overwhelmingly full of tenderness that Robin feels like she’s intruding despite the fact that she’s, you know, standing behind the counter of her own place of work. 
“Congratuations,” Steve continues. He’s set Eddie down again but they’re still so close, arms tangled together, that he’s practically speaking the words into Eddie’s mouth. “When do you start?”
Eddie doesn’t answer. Eddie seems to have misplaced his self-awareness because he’s swaying forward, through the scant space left between them, and oh my God, Robin is going to have to do something or they’re definitely going to have their first kiss in the Family Video with her watching.
Robin slams the clamshell case on the Aristocats return she’d just rewound. They jump apart, looking dazed. Steve runs a hand through his hair. Eddie plays with his rings. Even though they’re no longer touching, they’re still looking at each other with the kind of naked affection that could get them in trouble if they’re not careful. Well. More trouble. 
“Eddie, that’s awesome,” Robin says brightly. “When do you start?”
“Oh. Monday, actually.”
“That’s great. You and Steve should celebrate tonight.”
“We…should.” Eddie agrees.
“I have plans. Important plans. That I can’t miss. But Steve was just telling me that he wanted to watch Rocky Horror again, right Steve?”
“I–yes?”
“And you like Rocky Horror, right Eddie?”
Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “I do.”
“Great.”
She gives Steve a significant look.
“I’ll come to your place with the movie once I’m off?” Steve suggests to Eddie.
Eddie nods slowly. “Yes. Cool. Cool cool cool. I’ll get pizza. And see you then.” He salutes for some ungodly reason but Steve salutes him back like that’s a normal thing to do and they grin at each other as Eddie walks backward toward the door.
Idiots.
God, she loves them so much.
Steve waits until the van has pulled out of the parking lot to resume his face-down position on the counter.
She goes back to rewinding tapes.
She waits.
“Did we almost just kiss?” he asks finally. “In the Family Video.”
“Sure looked like it,” Robin says. “Which is not advisable. I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“Yeah, obviously, but that means…if I try to kiss him tonight he’d probably go for it, right?”
“Only one way to find out,” Robin sighs.
Except she already knows that tomorrow morning Steve Harrington will have kissed four boys and she still has yet to kiss a single girl. 
Unbelievable.
Steve sits up with sudden purpose. “I am. I’m going to kiss him tonight.”
“Great. Super happy for you. Can you help me rewind some tapes until then?”
Already working on PT. 2 which is Wayne’s POV when he accidentally intrudes on their celebration that night. So. Stay tuned for that.
Pt. 2 is Here.
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primrosebow · 2 months
Text
An open letter to bigfatbimbo.🪽
Reasons why you should write for Adam.
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1 -> He is a misogynist (not for long)
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Look at his face. He is so weird. I swear. He has been favoritized for far too long, leaving him with the most mind-numbing god complex. Don't you want to stab him to death like niffty? Don't you want to put him where he deserves to be (either underground or under me)? I do. You should too! Because his way of thinking meets it's end where my heels begin.
2 -> He is stupid
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He has the emotional maturity of a boiled lobster. He fits into heaven like an orca in the amazon river. He is so unbelievably incompetent it is actually kind of mind boggling. Don't you want to crush him like he's a little bug (either with your fists or your thighs)? Didn't he literally say one of the "biggest issues evet" was math or something? He probably couldn't tell you where Africa is in the world map even if you paid him. Even the fruit of knowledge couldn't give him enough braincells to function as a proper member of society.
3 -> he deserves humiliation
He deserves to have his entire worldview rocked and destroyed, something we can surely provide. His shallow thinking should be promptly obliterated. He has only ever gotten away from beautiful tall strong women because he always had the option of just asking for a different woman. They didn't have the mental fortitude to put him in his place. We are the bearers of the curse (liking repulsive men), and, since there is no "mental fortitude" to begin with, there is nothing for him to break down. We (as a collective) should end him.
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4 -> I know what he is
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His entire persona is a gigantic act to make up for the fact he cannot appropriatelly cope with losing in general, much less losing the, like, 2 wives he ever had (to THE SAME GUY!! MIND YOU!!!) and if he had more people they were one night stands. Not because he left them, but because people know he is worthless scum and he is good for nothing other than his "original dick" ( eugh. I usually refrain from cursing >:// ). It is the reason for his pride and also the only thing that makes him even remotely worth the hastle of talking to. He is the equivalent of a carnival prize to the people in heaven, scoring him is more of a show of your own endurance rather than how coveted he is. He has been objectified through his own hubris. He should be made aware of that. He should fear the knowledge we posses. It should be used against him.
5 -> he sounds.. like.. . He sounds good.
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I watched the series while skipping most of the songs but I genuinelly could not do it when he was singing. No wonder he's in a band or something, I didn't actually pay attention to what he was saying I was paying more attention to the sound of his voice so I don't remember clearly what's up with that. Like he sounds REALLY good. If only he knew how to just use his voice without saying the most repulsive atrocities to be ever uttered by anyone ever. Oh yeah! We can make him incoherent enough for that to happen.
6 -> Lute deserves better
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Lute deserves, like, a woman. Not him. She's too gorgeous for him, and, the difference between us and her is that while SHE is dealing with HIM, in our case, HE has to deal with US. Really, we're just saving a beautiful, amazing, stunning, showstopping woman a lot of trouble, and getting an ENTIRE PATHETIC MAN AS A TRADE! WIN WIN! Literally no downsides, I swear.
7 -> he is girl dinner
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Don't you just love looking into your fridge and seeing the worthless scraps that built up overtime but somehow taste better now than they usually would have, which is particularly shocking considering it has 0 nutritional value? That would be what girl dinner is, and also an appropriate analogy for what Adam is like! Just roughly ok looking enough for you to not downright call it a biohazard. You will go to bed satisfied after fighting tooth and nail for your dinner (getting him to behave properly) and, it'll be easier the next times maybe! Operant conditioning is a heavy hitter with this repulsive individual, so it might actually get easier! Who knows!
8 -> Pretty please? (´。・д人)゙
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I really. Uh . I really want him if you couldn't tell? Maybe the cannibalism and the fear I want to instill into him got in the way of you seeing my point, but, like, that's just how I love. The highest honor I could bestow on him is wanting to eat him, so, maybe that'll assist in your judgement? I also just really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts on his idiotic self. AND! AND! Other people also want you to write about him if I well remember the 1 ask you received about him!
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I await your response when you are available @bigfatbimbo
If you need more convincing; I can, like, draw him? I'm going to draw him no matter what but like I can cook something up for you in particular who knows.
You did say you were already considering writing for him, so, maybe this can be a final push in that direction for you!
- sincerely, Bow
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euovennia · 1 year
Note
Okay hi hello I’ve just binged your platonic Simon x reader headcannons and as an aspec person I am absolutely EATING THIS SHIT UP - Simon deserves someone to lean on and seeing him be vulnerable and care for someone like that and who will do the same for him makes my heart melt.
however, I am also a hopeless romantic and an absolute sucker for pain and the thought of Ghost catching feelings and being completely unaware of them because he’s barely used to having a friend let alone a crush; only realising after y/n does something he’d usually find stupid only to find himself completely smitten over it and him just going “oh. oh nO” and queue the internal turmoil because he has no idea what tf to do with himself and god forbid if y/n actually likes him back-
This has been plaguing me all morning and I cannot act right so I had to share it :,)
this can be a read as part of the bff ghost series i have going on, but i see it more as a "what if" kinda thing bc i strongly believe this man just needs a good friend. thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3
warnings: nothing comes to mind, but lmk if you see something that needs to be added and i'll do it asap!
summary: ghost panics when he realizes he likes you just a little too much.
anon you're so smart for this because i genuinely feel like friends to lovers is the the easiest way for simon to fall in love
like there's already a deep, established trust there (in terms of being on the battlefield)
i mean obviously because if there wasn't you wouldn't even be on the team in the first place
but the trust he places in you on the field paired with the trust he has in you off the field?
i think it's safe to say that while this man doesn't realize it yet, he's already a goner
the meals you share, the low-budget hollywood action films you hate watch, and the unbelievable amount of patience he has for your shenanigans
basically, you two have become two peas in a pod (despite him not wanting to be in the pod in the first place but who cares he's your friend and that's all that matters)
and i genuinely believe of he were to start falling for one of his friends (aka you) it would be a very slow process, one that neither of you realize is even taking place
it would be the little things like you willingly making making the same dish two days in a row for your little meal times because he just likes it that much
maybe even leaning your head on his shoulder while you two watch those bad action films because, deep down, he loves knowing you trust him enough to feel so comfortable with him (bonus points if you end up falling asleep)
ordering him his favorite brand of loose leaf tea that he can never seem to find anywhere on store shelves
god forbid you memorize the way he prepares his tea and randomly show up with a steaming mug of it at random times of the day
as i said before, it's the little things that do it for him
but imagine doing all of those things on the. same. day.
like
you know he woke up extra early to help price take care of some paperwork and while he's doing that you stroll in a mug of tea
then later on when you see him for lunch he finds you made two plates of bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes, it's a british thing apparently) despite having it the day before and when he asks why you just say something like, "yesterday you said you wished you could have more, figured i'd make more"
then later in the evening when everyone's retired to their rooms, you walk into his with the all too familiar box of loose-leaf tea in your hands along with a blanket
you just kinda set the box on the bedside table before dragging him to sit on the floor in front of the tv the two of you snuck into his room one night after price banned them after soap broke his and he was the one who had to clean up the mess
he totally saw you two sneak it in but never bothered to say anything because he trusts you
anyway
you flick on the tv and put on the third installment of that god awful 'sharknado' movie series you two had found out was a thing not too long ago
and all is well
until you lay your head on his shoulder and grab onto his arm as you look over his tattoos
he'll probably give you a little glance before turning his attention back to the movie, it's not uncommon for you to do things like this
but then he'll feel something cold press up against his skin and he'll look down again just to see you holding a colored marker and scribbling inside the lines of his tattoo
and as much as he wants to pull away and throw that marker to the other end of the room
he just can't bring himself to do it
not when you're pressed up against his side with your hands cradling his arm as if he was worthy of such care in the first place
obviously this night wouldn't be complete without you falling asleep against his shoulder, so that's exactly what you do
he lays you to sleep on his bed while he makes himself cozy on the floor :)
anyway cue him getting up early for his morning shower and the complete and utter shock that hits him like a truck when the marker you used the night prior to color in his tattoos doesn't wash off
he makes a bee line for his room and immediately picks up the marker you used only to find out it's sharpie
and while he knows that this would be a perfectly acceptable time for him to wake you up and chastise you for doing such a thing, he doesn't
because when he looks down at his arm he can practically feel his chest bloom with a warm, fuzzy feeling because you did that
and it's after he's stared at the colorful markings that now grace his skin does he realize he's got a small smile etched onto his face
then it hits him like a truck
he likes it because of you
he likes you
it cannot be overstated how quickly he grabs his stuff and leaves the room, not caring in the slightest that you're still wrapped up in his sheets
he doesn't do much work that day
just a lot of aimless walking around base as he tries to, in his words, get his shit together
because, in his mind, this is probably just about the stupidest thing he can do
and it's not even because he's technically your superior, that's a mess all on its own
it's the fact that either one of you could quite literally die at any given point while on a mission
and that's not even bringing up his own mountain of trust issues and insecurities
it's a mess
he's a mess
and how does he deal with this mess?
by avoiding you like the damn plague
you thought it was bad when he was trying to duck out of your pre-friendship interactions when you seemed to always be trying to find a way to bug him? think again.
he becomes practically invisible to you
his callsign isn't 'ghost' for no reason
i can honestly see it getting so bad to the point where you start to really only see him on group missions
which isn't too horrible admittedly because you always manage to squeeze in some small talk, but it's not enough
but one day, price calls the two of you into his office with laswell patiently sat waiting on a video chat over his laptop
and it's revealed that you two are being sent on a mission to gather some intel about some new terrorist group that's popped up on laswell's radar
and he just kinda sits there and accepts the fact he'll have to be paired up with you because what's he gonna do? tell laswell and price no? absolutely not
anyway
i imagine the mission going off without a hitch
i'm talking real simple, just a quick in and out before ghosts is on comms requesting an evac
that's where things go wrong
because you'll get some bullshit response like, "oh no, bad weather, can't fly like this, looks like you'll have to wait! get cozy!!"
and while you are a bit disappointed when he breaks the news, you can't help but feel a little happy because now you actually get to see and interact with simon for more than five minutes
but while you're over in your head having a small celebration over the unforeseen circumstances, simon is pretty much dreading it
he knows you know he's been avoiding you and he's 100% sure you're going to make him sit through an awkward conversation about it
and what's worse, he's certain you won't stop until he tells you why
well it's a good thing he knows how to keep his mouth shut!
at least he thought he did
because after having you ask him for the reason of his sudden avoidance of you for what he swears has to be the hundredth time, he just spits it out in a small fit of anger and annoyance
and i highly doubt he'll realize what he just said until he looks over to you after not getting a response and seeing you there with your eyes wide and jaw open
he'll definitely try to backtrack with something like, "forget what i said. you didn't hear anything."
and then your brain will finally kick in after going haywire for an unnecessarily long amount of time and you'll just kinda ask him in a small voice, "did you mean it?"
and as tempted as he is to brush you off and say no, he can't bring himself to do that
but remember, simon is still a very hurt man underneath that mask and heavy duty gear, so i can imagine him just letting out a small sigh before saying something along the lines of
"i'm sorry."
and your heart just breaks because you can practically feel the shame radiating from him as he turns himself away from you and averts his gaze to the floor
simon riley, perhaps one of the most hardened and strongest men you'll ever come to know, apologizing for the way he feels
you can't help but shuffle closer to him until you're sitting by his side
and you'll sit in silence this way for a while as he tries to ignore just how close you are while you try to find a gentle way to approach this
you're stumped
but eventually, your eyes will fall onto the floor and simon's gloved hand will come into your vision
and there's not a single thought in your mind before you're reaching out and putting your hand on top of his
the man practically malfunctions
he's sitting there, thoughts going a mile a minute as he tries to decipher what this means
but then you'll lean your head on his shoulder and he's almost startled at the way all of the noise in his head seems to just disappear
but still, he can't resist asking
"what now?"
and you'll let out a small, wistful sigh as you nuzzle your head further into his shoulder
"whatever we want."
he'll look down at you with an almost shy gaze, "and if i want you?"
and you'll interlace your fingers and punctuate it with a squeeze, "then you can have me."
and that's good enough for the both of you
at least until you get back to base
:)
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ginkgo-phyta · 2 months
Text
The Aftermath - Tantalizing Pt.2 / Spencer Reid
Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader
Words: ~3k
Tags/Warnings: AFAB fem reader in mind (one mention of breasts, dress, and longish hair), no warnings, really, maybe mention of rodents? this is a bit more on the fluffy side and my attempt at being funny and lighthearted bahaha, pt2 to a smut but there's nothing smutty here! other BAU members present (Emily, Hotch, Derek)
Summary: You and Spencer have been hiding your relationship from the team, but during a particularly steamy late-night rendezvous in Spencer's hotel room (specifically, on the desk), the two of you get interrupted by a knock at the door. For the sake of saving face, your relationship, and your dignity, the two of you must try to act like nothing indecent was ever going on. Even if that means coming up with a ridiculous story. Will it work?
Author's Note: Part two of Tantalizing, which is a small smut fic, but this can really be read as a standalone! If you haven't read it yet, though, I would love it if you did! :D
Silence flooded the room for a good thirty seconds while you and Spencer just stared at each other, wide eyed and horrified. 
Boom, boom, boom.
Another bout of heavy, rhythmic knocks caused you to jump in your skin again. 
“Spencer,” Rossi’s muffled voice oozed through the wood, concerned and hesitant, “are you okay??”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Spencer was losing his mind. He took his hand off your mouth, giving you a pointed look that screamed shut up as he moved away from you to begin fixing his clothes. “This cannot be happening…” he mumbled to himself, frantically trying to smooth down his hair, “What the hell do we do?” he directed towards you, his usual sweet timbre dripping with fear-laced desperation. He turned his attention back to his clothing while you scooped your bra back over your breasts.
You had slowly slid off the desk, wincing as it creaked ever so slightly, and started buttoning up your dress when an idea popped up into your head. “Follow my lead!” you whisper-shouted to the panicked doctor. Spencer whipped his head up to look at you in exaggerated incredulity, hands leaving their task of tucking his shirt into his pants to hysterically wave around at you.
“No, no! Don’t say anything-” he quietly pleaded, trying to quell whatever stupid idea you had. He bounded towards you hand extending to slap over your mouth again, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. 
“There’s a rat!!” you shouted towards the door.
Spencer threw his hands up and turned away from you, hitting them lightly down onto his thighs as he grumbled, “Unbelievable…” There’s a fucking rat?? 
A moment of silence settled the air while Spencer stood still, anticipating what Rossi could possibly respond with. He watched you straighten your dress skirt and deftly finger comb your hair into a low ponytail. 
Rossi finally called out your name, even more confused, “Is that you? I-” you could envision the older man glancing around the hallway with a stumped expression as he took in a breath, “What..What the hell is happening in there?”
You unintelligibly mouthed something to Spencer, urging him to back you up as you tiptoed around to the other side of the bed. 
“A-a rat, Rossi! There’s a rat in the room!” 
You mentally face-palmed as you lugged open the lone window in the room. Spencer didn’t sound nearly as convincing as you did. Clearly, you would have to be the one to sell this. You mustered up your most frightened voice, “It’s so big, I don’t know where it went!” Spencer rolled his eyes at the sight of you fruitlessly trying to wave the smell of sex out of the room with your hands. 
“This is so crazy,” he quietly yelled at you, “you should’ve kept your mouth shut!” 
“Oh yeah?” you challenged him with a raised brow, “And how would you have explained all the noises we were making, Dr. Reid?” That shut him up. Spencer wished the walls would just consume him.
“A rat???” David sounded even more confused. He called both of your names this time, “Just open the door, I’ll deal with it.�� you couldn't tell if he was buying the excuse. 
“No!” Spencer yelled out a little too quickly. You made up for it,
“If we get down it’ll attack us again!” you started to climb up onto the bed, attempting to pull Spencer up by the arm to join you.
‘Again’, huh? Good addition. Spencer thought. Frustration slowly melted off his shoulders, amusement creeping into its place with every tug on his arm. This was absolutely ridiculous. Like, comically unreal. He felt like he just got transported into an early noughties romcom. With a shake of his head and light chuckle, Spencer clambered up onto the bed. He could hear Rossi mumbling from the other side of the door, whether to himself or to someone else was yet to be confirmed. 
“Why are we up here?” Spencer whispered through a smile, holding onto your arms to steady himself. It felt wrong to be on the bed with his shoes still on. 
“What, you’ve never heard of method acting?” it was clear you were trying to hold back laughter, voice breaking at the end of your question. You held Spencer’s shoulders and closed your eyes, lightly clearing your throat as you tried to center yourself. Spencer watched on in confusion. Suddenly, your eyelids flew open, serious gaze boring into Spencer’s amused one. “Spencer. We have to do this, you hear me? We have to convince Rossi there was no hanky-panky-ing happening in this room, alright?” 
Spencer started to laugh before you roughly sandwiched his face between your palms. “Hey!” you hissed, “I mean it!” 
Wow, you were being way more serious than he honestly expected. Well, as serious as someone who just uttered "hanky-panky-ing" can be. As your hands slid down to grip the lapels of his blazer, Spencer gave you a firm nod before mimicking your actions. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached into the corners of his psyche to find his innermost theater kid. He was going to do this wholeheartedly. Doctor Spencer Reid was going to act like his career depended on it…Hopefully.
The sound of shuffling and added voices outside the door caused your nerves to multiply. Your palms became slick with cold sweat, heart beat increased, breathing quickened ever-so-slightly. Your audience was growing. It was time to perform. 
“Y'all got a rat problem?” a new voice rang out, and you knew right away is was Derek fucking Morgan. You could tell he was trying not to laugh. 
Great, you thought, this just got harder. 
Before either of you could even respond, another voice spoke, “And you're stuck on- what- the bed?” Emily. And she was not holding back her delight. 
“Oh God,” Spencer muttered under his breath, “this better work.” 
“Just commit and it will!” you quickly spat out through gritted teeth before turning back to the task at hand. “Yes, a rat!! Guys, please help- OH MY GOD THERE IT IS!” you made sure to screech like a schoolgirl at the end. 
Spencer almost blurted out laughing at the sight of you jumping around the bed and clinging onto him with eyes screwed shut as if you actually saw the imagined rodent. You were even pointing into the abyss. The thumps of your solid fist hitting his back reminded him to pitch in and he let out a few yelps and yells as well, trying hard to quell his smile. Clearly his inner theater kid was not that experienced- and not nearly as talented as you. 
Immediately the sound of Derek and Emily’s boisterous cackles seeped through the cracks around the door. Half a pitch higher, and you were convinced the tune could shake the wood right off the hinges. 
It was obvious another idea popped into your head and before Spencer could ask what you were doing, you laid over the edge of the mattress, bending to reach under the bed for something. The entire time, you kept up your screams and random yells, throwing in an expletive here and there and kicking against the bed for good measure. Spencer dubiously stared at you, but the expression on your face ushered him to copy you and keep up the chaos as you pulled an ironing board out from the depths of the hidden space. 
What the hell? How did you even know that was down there? Spencer tried to help you lug the board up onto the bed with you, but he had to bob and weave out of the way to keep from getting smacked upside the head with it. 
“Guys, just-” Rossi tried to speak but a shrill command cut him off.
“Spencer!” you suddenly shouted. “Get it, it’s behind the desk again! Right there!” with that you shoved the ironing board into Spencer’s arms. The sudden push had the doctor stumbling back into the headboard but before he could even process what was happening, you guided him to hit the board against the desk you were fooling around on just minutes ago. 
Ohhh, I guess that makes sense. The thought flashed through Spencer’s mind as he realized you were trying to mimic the thumping sounds your earlier debauchery had created. 
You could faintly hear Prentiss and Morgan slapping each other's arms through their heightened hooting and Rossi trying to get them to shut up enough to get a word out. 
“Ok-Okay, kids! Hotch is getting someone to open the door!” He spoke to you. The older man was clearly choking back a laugh of his own, “Don’t worry, just calm down- Get it together!” He had obviously directed his attention to the agents beside him at the end. The sounds of amusement abruptly ended, but you could perfectly envision Emily and Morgan biting their fists to stop their cackles, shoulders shaking merrily in mirth. 
“Please, hurry!” Spencer yelled out, relenting his motions and settling one end of the board down on the floor. He leaned against it, breathing deeply for a second as his own shoulders shook in a contained chuckle. His arms burned from flailing around such a heavy object, beads of sweat began to line the back of his neck, but he had to admit he was actually having fun. He looked down at you sitting at his feet, also silently laughing. You had your legs tucked under you and your body hunched forward just a bit, face held in your hands. If he hadn’t known better, Spencer would have almost thought you were crying. 
You drag your hands down your face and look up at your lover, “I hope to God this works.”
Spencer’s smile grows and just as he’s about to reach down and smooth over your hair the sound of the electronic key fob being activated sucks in your attention. Immediately, you cling to Spencer’s leg and he grabs a hold of the ironing board again, positioning it to look like he’s ready to pounce. It took every ounce of both of your will powers to put on believably terrified faces. 
Derek and Emily basically pushed Hotch and Rossi into the room and the sight in front of them has them struggling to stifle their laughs again. One of Emily's hands immediately flies to latch onto Derek’s shoulder while the other covers her mouth, Morgan’s jaw slacks open. Both of them wished they had brought their phones with them to eternalize this moment with a picture. If painted, the scene before them could easily be mistaken for a Renaissance piece. Your face bore an expression of trepidation neither of the agents had ever seen before. Your hands tightly fisted the leg of Spencer’s pants and you seemed to cower behind him. Spencer was the highlight of the evening; stance wide and strong on the wobbly mattress, messy hair stretching in every direction, clothes slightly awry, and grasp on the absurd ironing board firm as he wielded it like Excalibur.   
“Oh my God,” Emily whispers with a little giggle. Her eyes meet Derek’s as he scoffs in disbelief and they share the same thought, “What in the world are they doing?”
Rossi and Hotch remain stoic and concerned as they look all around the room; up, down, side to side. Though, a little smile plays at the corners of the former’s lips. 
“Where’s the rat?” Hotch asks plainly while Rossi turns his head back to share a glace with the other team members.
Without missing a beat, as if your brain cells telepathically communicated with one another, both you and Spencer point towards the open window behind you, “It ran out!” 
“What? It’s gone?” Rossi spoke up, walking around the bed to peer out the screenless window. 
“It just left?” Hotch added hesitantly with an arch of his brow, hands sliding into his pockets. 
“Well, more like Spencer hit it out,” You quickly piped up, scrambling off the bed and helping Spencer do the same, “with this.” you motioned to the ironing board before clumsily sliding it back under the bed, trying your best to sound confident. “Right before you guys opened the door.” The two of you looked at each other and nodded in agreement.
“I can’t believe this,” Emily’s seal broke and she began to laugh, causing Derek to do the same, “you guys were making all that ruckus over a stupid rat?”
“Me either,” Derek swiped a hand over his head, smiling widely, “I mean, you seriously hit a rat out the window? Looks like we gotta get you on the bureau softball team, pretty boy.”
You looked at Emily wide-eyed in disbelief, shouting, “It was a big rat!” 
At the same time Spencer grumbled out, “It was just luck,” while he slumped down onto the bed. You remained standing.
“Ahem,” someone clears their throat, conjuring everyone’s attention to them. It was the front desk employee standing in the doorway, “Um, is everything okay?” they stepped further into the room, squeezing between Morgan and Prentiss. You could see a security guard lingering nearby in the hallway. 
Shit. Hotel staff and security are getting involved now…
“You mean, besides the fact this place has a rat infestation?” Emily mumbled under her breath, garnering a low-five from Derek. 
“Yes, everything’s fine now!” Spencer tries to diffuse the situation, noticing everything was becoming a bigger ordeal than necessary. “And there’s no infestation, I’m pretty sure it came from outside.” 
“Good save, Dr. Reid.” you thought to yourself with a bit of your lower lip. You made sure to maintain a naive facade, though. 
The employee wrung their hands together, “Right. Well, just as we instructed during check-in, please refrain from opening your window for the rest of your stay.” 
“Ooh, naughty boy.” Prentiss jokingly chided at Spencer.
Oopsies…You forgot they told you not to open the window in this room specifically. 
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, “it was me. I totally forgot. We’ll make sure to keep it closed now!” The receptionist simply offered you a tight-lipped nod in response before turning to leave, taking the security guard with them.  
“Well, looks like we probably won’t be welcomed back here.” Hotch quipped causing everyone to chuckle. He looked over the room once more before motioning to all the files scattered around the floor, “Clean this up and go to bed- in your own rooms.” he added quickly. “We’ve got an early morning, remember?” 
You and Spencer nodded quickly and watched as your boss walked off. David ensure the window was tightly shut before coming back around to take Aaron’s previous spot, “What were you guys even doing this late?”
With a scratch to the back of his neck, Spencer jerked his chin towards the few papers left on the desk, “We were working on the coded messages the unsub left.” It wasn't entirely a lie.
“It got stuffy so I opened the window,” you added, rubbing your suddenly tired eyes, “...then that monster came flying in.” 
You rolled your eyes at Emily and Derek simultaneously snorting.
Rossi just nodded for a second, processing the information before speaking, “It didn’t bite you guys, did it?” 
“No, but I swear it crawled over my arms.” You feigned a shiver, crossing your arms and rubbing your hands against them as you plopped onto the edge of the bed next to Spencer.
Rossi winced at the image, throwing his hands up with a, “Alright, buona notte!” while leaving the room. 
That left the four of you- Emily and Derek sauntered up to the two of you with the most shit-eating-est grins you had ever seen in your life.
Prentiss spoke first, hands glued mockingly to her hips, “You guys woke up the whole floor, you know that? I mean, if it was just a little rat, you couldn't have just left the room?” you narrow your eyes at the bout of laughter that rolled out of her frame. “Plus,” she kissed her teeth, “now the staff are pissed off. They’re probably gonna kick us out.”
“I’m glad you find my genuine terror sooo amusing, Emily.” You glared up at her, “Like I already said; it was huge and it literally touched me! If you guys aren’t gonna help clean up,” you gave Derek a pointed look, “then please leave.” You childishly straightened your back and tilted your chin up to appear more formidable. 
Emily chuckled and shook her head, “Nuh-uh. Your mess, your cleanup!” and with that she followed her supervisors and took her leave. 
Morgan remained standing in front of both of you, his deep brown eyes glinting in the soft white light emanating from the hotel sconces. A beat passed as he looked between you and Spencer with a smirk.
“Rat, huh?” he reached down and ruffled Spencer’s hair before giving you a quick wink and turning to leave, closing the room door behind him. 
And then there were two.
With deep sighs, both you and Spencer let your bodies go limp, dramatically dropping back into the mattress with little bounces, laying shoulder to shoulder. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling for a minute in silence before you feel Spencer gently grab a hold of your hand.
“D’ya think they bought it?” 
You turn your head to meet his gaze, “...Not at all.” 
Instantaneously, you both break out into melodious and boisterous laughter. The ludicrousness of the entire situation settled in and although you were exhausted you couldn't stop laughing until your sides split and oxygen became hard to acquire. Although the night was mortifying, there is always a silver lining. It was the most incredibly amusing, lively, and joyful time you’ve had in quite a while. And at least JJ and Penelope weren’t witnesses to it.
As he calmed down Spencer adjusted to lean up on his elbow, “Well, in that case…” he pushed a stray hair out of your face, peering down at you with a warm smile and an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes.
He didn’t even try to finish his sentence before he pounced on you, bringing you into his arms and nuzzling quick kisses into the side of your neck. You let out a playful shriek and tried to roll him off of you, giggles bubbling back up inside your belly. 
Eh, cleanup can wait.
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valeskafics · 4 months
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"Top Marks" Chapter Five: Secrecy - Michael Gavey x Preppy!Reader
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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Six (Final)
Summary: You lay down the law regarding your and Michael's liaison.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, dom!reader
Word Count: 1,230 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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After your and Michael’s little encounter in your dorm, he’s mildly horrified when you walk into class the next day acting as if nothing happened between the two of you. You walk into class, that pastel pink hairband on your head, your pink argyle sweater clinging to your tits, those skinny jeans hugging your hips. Fuck, he’s hard just looking at you. And you give him a prim, closed-lip smile, giving no indication that you were just sucking his cock the night before. What in the fuck is going on here?
And when he raises his hand to answer a question about “The Catcher In The Rye” and its main character, your hand immediately shoots up in the air, your remarks cutting, your tone biting as you completely annihilate every single point he’s made, all with a sweet little smile on your face. He shifts in his seat, his pants uncomfortably tight as he makes his counter arguments, the professor enjoying the back and forth between the two of you before eventually moving onto another student, saying that both of you made “excellent points” and should be proud of yourself for having done such a deep analysis of the book.
Michael watches the smug little smile that spreads across your lips and lets out a frustrated huff of breath. God, why do you have to look so fucking pleased with yourself? It’s a stupid bloody American Literature class. It’s nothing important like physics or chemistry or maths. And yet, it drives him crazy how much better you are at him than this. And it’s also unbelievably sexy. Your wit, your intellect, the way you’re able to keep up with his caustic remarks, firing back some witty ones of your own. Michael has certainly met his match in you, he thinks.
Well, he’s sure actually, when he feels your Mary-Jane clad foot moving along his calf. You continue looking straight ahead, as if nothing is amiss while stroking his leg with your foot slowly and sensually. Michael feels like he can hardly breathe. He grips the side of his desk, gritting his teeth as you lean in, resting a hand on his thigh, pretending to ask what page of the book you all are on. You know damn well, you just want to whisper in his ear in that breathy fucking voice of yours, your lips tickling his skin so gently.
Michael swallows thickly, barely managing to rasp out the page number, whimpering as you squeeze his thigh and whisper a “thank you”. You’re a fucking minx. A vixen. A succubus. Words cannot describe what you are. He wants you to move your hand off of him, and yet, the minute you do that, he rests his on top of yours, looking at you pleadingly, begging you to keep touching him. You give him that same smile that’s been driving him insane all term as you keep your hand where it is through the rest of the lecture, making him smile.
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“We need to lay down a few ground rules,” you declare as you and Michael enter his dorm, his roommate gone for the evening.
Michael groans as you push him down on the bed, tugging at his shirt impatiently, “Ground rules?”
“Mhm.” Your nails rake down his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake, the noises he makes in reaction to them being like music to your ears, “No fucking anyone else.” Michael nods immediately, the idea of you being with another man making him feel sick to the stomach. He waits for you to continue as your lips press against the hollow of his throat, nipping at his sensitive skin, “Next rule. We don’t tell anyone.”
“Agreed,” Michael groans, watching with delight as you remove your sweater, tossing it aside and revealing that you chose to forego wearing a bra, your breasts visible to his greedy gaze, hands moving up to palm at them eagerly, “Can’t have you bringing down my reputation.”
You fix him with a sharp look and he knows his joke wasn’t well-received. Of course this is more for your reputation than his. Can Michael even be considered to have a reputation other than that arsehole who screamed “ask me a fucking sum” at the beginning of the term? No, he doesn’t think so.
“And finally, rule number three.” You lean in, your lips hovering over his as you whisper, “You never get to cum before I do.”
Michael loves the way you grin at him, almost like a naughty kitten, lips turned up, eyes slightly narrowed. He doesn’t think twice before nodding, letting out a low moan as you undo his trousers and your jeans, getting off of him only to grab a johnny from your purse. He gives you an amused, condescending look.
“Knew this was going to happen, did you?”
You roll your eyes, watching the way his eyes roll back at the simple action of you putting the rubber on him, the touch being almost too much for him to handle, “No, I did not anticipate shagging my worst enemy, Gavey, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Yeah, you’re desperate for my- oh fucking Christ…”
Michael’s attempt at baiting you is cut off with a load moan as you sink down onto his cock, your warmth enveloping him as he falls back against the mattress, brows knit together as he resists the urge to buck his hips up against yours, knowing he’ll be in for a world of hurt if he dares cum before you. The room is filled with the sound of your and his moans, skin slapping against skin as your pussy squeezes around him. His eyes scrunch shut as he does his best to hold himself back, though he feels himself getting closer and closer with each movement of your hips. He feels your walls clench around him, the mewl of his name you let out as you let yourself go and he finally allows himself to cum.
Just as his arm moves to wrap around you, you quickly get up and start dressing again, “Rule number four. No feelings. No cuddling afterward.”
He watches as you leave, your Juicy Couture purse hanging over your shoulder, that bitter taste making a return.
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Your secret liaisons continue through the rest of the term, sneaking quickies in your dorms, a makeout session in the library here and there, always taking care never to get caught.
And soon enough? It’s time for the winner of the trip to Nice to be announced. You give Michael a little smirk as you wait for the professor to make the announcement, feeling fairly confident that it’ll be you. Michael rolls his eyes but grins in spite of himself. Your competitive nature, your fierceness? It’s what drew him to you in the first place. He drums his fingers against his desk, munching on his crunchie bar, ignoring the disdainful look you shoot at the wrapper.
He doesn’t know why you have such a vendetta against them, but it makes eating them in front of you all the sweeter.
“Well, for the first time in our institution’s history, we have an exact tie for the top of the class.”
Your heart is in your throat, stomach dropping when you hear that both you and Michael will be heading off on that trip to Nice.
Together.
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clerc16 · 4 months
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✯ bad idea right? ; charles leclerc
a/n: slowly getting into my olivia rodrigo phase this isn’t funny. also requests are open!
summary: you see your ex, charles leclerc, at your mutual friend’s party. all good, right? well, until he actually talks you ...
warnings: language, alcohol, partying, slightly nsfw?
── ☆⋆。𖦹°‧★
He’s one of the last people to walk in. Late, as usual. You ignore his presence, just like you always do since you both broke up; you want nothing to do with him anymore.
You hear his mumbles of ‘I’m sorry’ and some lousy excuse for being late. You roll your eyes ─ those stupid excuses of his.
You make eye contact with him for less than a second as he walks to get himself a drink, and you feel absolutely revolted. You want nothing to do with him anymore.
You take a sip of your drink as your eyes follow him around the room, as you watch him joke around with his friends, sipping on his own drinks.
You hated him so unbelievably much.
“Are you okay?” Your friend asks, snapping you out of your trance.
“Hm? Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply casually, taking another sip of your drink. Your friend nods and smiles, looking around the room, her eyes landing on Charles. She hums and looks at you.
You desperately hope she doesn’t ask you about Charles.
“So... how is it with Charles?” She asks.
Goddammit.
“Um, we don’t talk. I don’t care.” You mutter, glancing at him. Fuck, you made eye contact.
“I mean, he’s been... eyeing you for a while, ever since he came in ─” she begins, stopping to take a sip of her drink.
“─ so I think he wants to talk to you,” she continues. You shrug, not knowing what exactly to say.
“All I’m saying is, give it a go. I mean, what do you have to lose?” She adds. You scoff and shake your head.
“This man...” You begin, sighing.
“This man, this hell of a man, fucked me over then left. I have so much to lose if I talk to him again.”
She sighs and allows her eyes to take another scan of the room, lingering on someone, presumably her boyfriend.
“Well... it’s all up to you. If you do decide to talk to him, though... tell me everything.” She winks as she leaves towards the direction of her boyfriend, leaving you alone with your thoughts again.
You swallow the remains of your drink as you take your phone out, scrolling mindlessly through your timeline. You’re focused on your phone so much you don’t notice that someone has came and stood beside you.
He clears his throat as you snap your head up and look at him. Charles.
“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles nonchalantly.
Fuck that smile of his.
“What?” You reply casually, taking another sip of your drink. He shrugs at your response.
“Nothing, just checking on you. How have you been?” He asks. He’s not making this easy for you whatsoever.
“Charles, come on...” You sigh as you roll your eyes.
“What?” It’s his turn to question now.
“You know what. What is the point of this?”
He shrugs again, looking straight at you. Strangely, his eyes on you make you turn red, your face feeling hot.
“Look, I know that you’re my ex, but can’t we reconnect?”
You shake your head, an expression of disbelief etched on your face.
“No, Charles. No, absolutely not,”
He sighs and rubs his forehead, closing his eyes temporarily.
“Look, I know I was horrible to you, and you deserve so much better, but─”
“That is such a bad idea,” you exclaim.
“Just─”
“Charles, you─”
“Y/N─”
“You can’t possibly be─”
“Can you at least─”
“Charles, you─”
He cuts you off again, but this time, his lips are on yours. It’s a surprise for you at first, but you slowly melt into his touch, kissing him back fiercely.
His hands travel to your waist and yours go to his neck, resting on the back of it. It’s quick and passionate; your mind keeps telling you to pull away but you physically cannot.
Eventually, you both pull away, gasping for breath. His lips are red and your face is flushed.
“Fuck you, Charles Leclerc.” You mumble. He laughs and walks into another room, as you follow him mindlessly. Once you enter and close the door, he pushes you gently against the wall and kisses your neck slowly.
“I hate you so much,” you whisper, out of breath. He only smirks and shakes his head.
“No, you don’t. You definitely don’t.” He mutters into your skin. Fucking hell.
“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” He teases you, repeating your words from before.
“Shut up, Leclerc.” You sigh.
The next day, you wake up in his bed, only covered by the sheets.
You hate him so unbelievably much. But... maybe reconnecting wasn’t a bad idea.
i am going insane. absolutely insane HOPE YOU ENJOYED! all lyric credits are in bold and are all owned by olivia rodrigo.
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mysumeow · 6 months
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ꗃ LYNEY NSFW ALPHABET 1/2
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warnings: afab genitalia, mentioned use of bra for reader, crossdressing mentions, gn pronouns.
a/n: finally. i hit the right balance. i didnt not go on a tangent with each letter like i did with previous alphabets TvT
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PART TWO › MASTERLIST ‹
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Lyney gets so cuddly that it's unbelievable how clingy he can get. He's clinging to you like you're his lifeline and will get pouty if you insist on leaving the bed. "Won't you spend some time cuddling your dear lover?" he would say.
On days when he's even more needy, you'll have to resort to negotiations (like letting go of you under the promise of getting showered together, for example).
B = Body part (their favorite body part and their partner’s)
I'm going to be real with you, chief. One would think it’s his hands, because not only does he work magic on cards but also between your legs. But no, it’s his legs, in my humble opinion. Why else do you think he wears shorts? To show off his legs. /j  And, also, the harness. That simple but effective piece of accessory is key to bringing attention to his legs.
Likewise, in his partner’s, it's also their legs. You cannot be around Lyney wearing shorts or something that shows your thighs because he’s going to be touchy.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).
Lyney’s pretty average in terms of how much he cums, the taste, how far it shoots, and the refractory period. If anything, he’s above average in how much he cums, but not by much. He enjoys seeing your face covered in cum and watching you lick the remains off when you finish sucking him off.
D = Dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He would like to cross-dress and experiment with having sex with you in a place like a fitting room. The thrill of having to keep your voice down excites him. Although he’s aware it might not be as viable as he would like to think it is, considering there’s a risk of being found out and it could tarnish both his and Lynette’s reputations, Would that little fantasy ever come true? Probably not. Lyney can’t keep his voice down for the life of him.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Despite his outgoing and charismatic personality, he has had one or two close romantic relationships. He gives me the impression of being that type of person who’s friendly to everyone, and people love him, but it’s hard to actually get to know him past that amicable exterior.
No matter how limited his experience is, he’s got the advantage of having skilled hands. So he’s got a head start in that regard.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He’s a romantic at heart; he wants to see your face and kiss you throughout the whole thing. Whichever position allows him to do that automatically checks the box for him. He’s inclined to do it with you on his lap and facing each other. For Lyney, there’s nothing more intimate than being able to appreciate in detail the faces and voices a lover makes during sex.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He has his moments of being stupid, but it’s to set a lighthearted mood. Does he implement his silly little magic tricks in the bedroom? I think he would do stuff like undo your bra with just one hand and in like a split second, for example. Or getting rid of an article of clothing when you least expect it.
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? etc.)
Yeah eyeah he trims. He doesn’t appreciate how messy that place can get if left unattended.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
The first word that comes to mind is sensuous. Lyney could start off with a lighthearted mood and joke a bit here and there, but then it escalates to a more sensible feel. He’s attentive to each one of your needs to ensure the experience is as pleasurable for you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He somehow finds the time to do it once every day. On days when there’s no performance to be done, he even does it twice. High libido, as expected from someone of his age. Probably has one or two toys.
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Story does include smut. Minors do not interact with this post, thank you.
Trigger warnings: description of near assault/ bullying, age gap, dominant, dark Harry (kinda?), praise, dad! Harry, younger reader (early 20s), body image issues, self esteem issues… reader is just incredibly insecure… everything that goes hand in hand with that basically— and lots of smutty stuff! This will be kind of slow burn!! Long story so get comfortable! Also please read with discretion lovelies. You all matter.
This story was requested but the requester asked to remain anonymous so I will not be mentioning anything about their request but please to anyone out there struggling with any type of body imagine problems please PLEASE know you’re absolutely beautiful and I hope one day you will see that.
Harry x plus size Inexperienced fem! Reader (Harry is not famous in this story)
Make you mine
"You cannot be serious Anna"
Your voice was annoyed and frustrated "oh I'm deadly serious”
You throw a glare directly at Anna who's grinning at you mischievously "you’re unbelievable. I’ve got work to focus on anyways so… no.” You murmur a flush of red appearing upon your already reddened cheeks. You didn’t do parties. You didn’t like parties. Full stop. Parties were where bad things happen and you were not planning on getting involved with that type of shit.
"Don't change the subject! Y/n please... PLEASE. You know it'll be fun!! Plus Jamie is fine as hell... his tattoos and shit like-" you felt annoyance spread throughout you your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose "alright alright! Fine.. whatever. I'll come with you to your friends stupid party." You mutter rolling you eyes watching out of your peripheral as Anna does a little happy dance, before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck
"Thank god! Now we've got to choose your outfit. That red dress looks real good on you." She spoke suddenly sporadically searching through your wardrobe making you roll your eyes. She cannot be serious. Going to a party is one thing but dressing up with zero body confidence is another thing.
“Anna.” You spoke in a warning tone, fear and worry spreading across your features “I am not skinny. Im not even pretty. I don’t have your body confidence!” You didn’t feel beautiful whatsoever. You felt like an absolute failure and mess most of the time. You just felt ugly. Sure Anna would beg to differ but she was your best friend, of course she would boost you up. You hated the way you looked it made you feel sick... you hated your body. You hated yourself. You hated everything to do with yourself. “Y/n! Enough. You’re beautiful. Keep talking shit and I might just have to get a handsome guy to show you how perfect you really a-“ “NO. Anna. Oh my god gross— no.”
You say exasperated as you plop down onto the bed, laying down- your arms dangling just above your head as you breathe quietly hearing hangers clattering together as your best friend continued viciously searching through your wardrobe.
Jamie Goodman was.... Something else. He was annoying. The class clown basically. He used to be in your tutor group in school and he just had to fucking follow your path to college classes and annoy you further. Anna thought the world of him and you were almost 100% certain that they had slept together once or twice.
"Found it!!" Anna cheered spinning around with the red dress held in her hands grinning widely "c'mon put it on! I want to get there early!" She spoke and you squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling. You loved Anna. She was your best friend, you adored her, but god could she get so fucking annoying sometimes. She made you want to rip your hair out but... she wouldn't be your best friend if she didn't do that occasionally.
"I cannot believe you made me agree with you" you mutter before standing up yanking the dress from her hands, stripping off your clothes as she too began getting changed into an outfit far too revealing- a tank top that was more like a bra top. And short shorts, her entire stomach and rib cage exposed along with her long legs. Gods to have her confidence and carelessness…
"Might want to pack condoms." You speak to her, hearing the shifting of material pause as she glances at you brows raising before a slight laugh leaves her lips "I'm on the pill, babes. Chill." She smiled assuringly and you sigh shaking your head. You and her were complete opposites- her full of confidence however you were a mess. No confidence. No body confidence... no dates... no boys... you’ve never had a first kiss or even had a man touch you before... you’ve never been intimate with anyone before— ever. And quite honestly you were afraid to even experience it.
“Come on!!”
Anna shouted from downstairs and you stood up after contemplating your life decisions— spraying your perfume all over yourself leaving your face bare from any makeup. You didn’t want any advances being made upon you just because you looked a bit different with makeup on... although you highly doubted that would ever happen. No man wanted to touch you. If for a dare they would but not for any other reason. Or so you thought.
You jog downstairs to where Anna is keys in hand before she smiles grabbing onto your hand and dragging you out of the home intertwining her fingers with yours "it'll be fun girl. Loosen up."
The drive there was fairly fast and you had almost twenty minutes to spare. "We're here too early." You spoke but Anna only shook her head grabbing a present from the back and you raised your brows "it's Jamie's birthday. That's why we were both invited...." your lips parted eyes widening Anna laughing, “you shouldn’t told—“
"Shh y/n. Don't worry. Here." She then shoved a smaller wrapped present into your hands winking at you as relief wrapped around your body. Thank fuck.
You then got out of the car with her, walking with her towards the front door, the door being opened by the familiar dirty blonde who quickly pulled Anna into his embrace hugging her for a little too long to be “just friends” before his eyes turned to you and he smiled. genuinely.
"Didn't think you'd come, y/n. But glad to see you here." He spoke and without even hesitating he pulled you in for a hug your eyes widening at the sudden hug shared between the two of you. You hugged him tenderly, awkwardly almost— not entirely knowing how to act.
"Anna persuaded me. But c'mon.. how could I not come see the birthday boy." You smile awkwardly after pulling back, soon holding the present out for him to take his baby blues smiling as he smiled taking the present from you "well nonetheless- glad you could make it. And thank you… I appreciate it.” You only nod not saying anything else, a slight nervous smile remaining on your lips— Anna purposely elbowing you in the ribs to attempt to loosen you up more her eyes saying it all.
Jamie was way different without all his friends around... he was kind. Real. Genuine. How strange... "c'mon let's go into the living room. We can watch a movie before the others arrive. Would you girls like a drink?"
A while passed before eventually more people were filing in, you remained sat on the sofa drink of Pepsi in your hand as you took occasional nervous sips. Anna had been whisked away by Jamie and you were certain they were creating the slight banging noises coming from upstairs... and well... that said something didn't it?
You grimaced just at the thought before shaking your head clearing your throat before you decided to stand up, the living room becoming a major crowded area and so you feeling your anxiousness grow quickly left the area, walking around for a bit before finally stopping stood just in the doorway to the kitchen your fingers grasping onto your Pepsi tighter as you took more sips from it. You exhaled softly leaning into the doorway slightly your brows creasing as you stared at a mixture of young adults and what looked to be literal 16 year olds dancing together... what the fuck? That's not creepy at all… however that became the least of your worries as you suddenly felt a rather warm presence behind you, your stomach fluttering anxiously,
"Excuse me"
You quickly turn around expecting a teenager only to come face to face with dad-like material. Old enough to be a dad... he wasn't a teenager. Your mouth was working faster than your brain as you only managed to stammer over a word before finally backing up "I'm so sorry..."
You smile nervously allowing your eyes to scavenge the man— he had piercing green eyes. Beautiful chestnut brown hair that had slight curls to it on the top and a beautiful smile that showed two pretty dimples. Tattoos were layered up and down his skin, a butterfly one seeming to be on his chest from what you could see. He wore a loose fitting shirt that was unbuttoned at the top revealing some of his toned chest. He was... god like.
"No need to apologise, love." He assured with a smile as he went to walk past you, shoulders brushing momentarily before he stopped glancing over his shoulder looking back at you “you look a bit young to be here..."
He spoke some sort of amusement in his eyes not revealing whether he was toying with you or being genuine. Shyness wrapped around you momentarily before you soon answered in an attempt to stick up for yourself— "I'm twenty two, sir." You speak politely the man fully turning so his body was facing you "you look a bit old to be here." You soon retort as he doesn't respond, instead only raising a brow as if pushing the idea of you telling little white lies to him. "Call me Harry."
"You look a bit old to be here, Harry." You rephrase
His eyes glinted with amusement before he cleared his throat "got off work... decided to come have some fun."
You narrow your eyes at him as if showing you didn’t believe him but really you were poking fun at him… exactly what he was doing with you. “What do you do for work?" You ask noticing the palpable tension that was between you and him. It only seemed to be growing more intense as the seconds went by.
"Surgeon"
He spoke simply and you raised your brows "like plastic surgery? Butt lifts and-"
"No." His words were light and airy as he laughed shaking his head "reconstruction surgery."
"Reconstruction?”
“There seems to be an echo in here.” his tone was playful but still nonetheless he nods to confirm your question but he still saw the curiosity on your face "say someone gets into an accident or— a kid falls off their bike let's say he wasn't wearing any protective gear apart from a helmet. No sleeves. No knee pads... no nothing... if he hits the road and skids down it, his skin is either going to be red and sore or his skin is going to be torn off. There's no exact way we can put that dirty infected and broken skin back onto him so we have to reconstruct the skin somehow..."
Your brows raise in interest "so like take it from somewhere less obvious? The leg.. or something?" You speak and he nods taking a sip of the beverage in his ring covered hand,
"Yeah. I mean my job is to simply make the skin look top condition... in the end it doesn't matter where the skin comes from. If it can stretch far enough to cover the wound then you know... it's good enough."
You hum in response clearly rather interested before you smile "that's interesting..." you study him carefully trying to figure him out. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you but Harry seemed to beckon a different side out of you…
"I didn't think a surgeons "thing" was parties..." you soon murmur
"There's a lot of things you don't think, love. If I remind you quickly we've only just met..." his emerald eyes twinkled with amusement brows raised as he smirked.
Your cheeks immediately flush red and you stare at him slightly dumbfounded a nervous smile forming on your face "sorry" you giggle out Harry only shaking his head as he smiled "I'm just kidding. But you're right... parties aren't places surgeons often involve themselves with.. me particularly" he admitted and just as you were about to say something, a different voice cut mine off— “Hey dad can we order pizza?" Your eyes immediately move to the voice. Jamie. His hair slightly dishevelled some red marks left on his neck. Wonderful. But that barely mattered anymore as you looked at who he was talking to… harry. Your heart immediately stops in your chest. Jamie's dad was Harry. The man you were flirting with. That wasn’t flirting though was it? Your stomach flutters nervously. This absolutely was not happening no way…. Your cheeks were a crimson red colour, your eyes slightly wide and your lips slightly parted and god were you glad Harry’s attention wasn’t on you anymore.
"Jamie there's pizza in the fridge. As your mother said, we cannot afford takeaway right now. Remember?" His voice snapped me back out of your thoughts as you focused back on the handsome man, eyes flicking to look at Jamie.
"But dad there's like 80 people here!" He exclaimed Harry's face remaining calm and unfazed "who invited them?" He spoke Jamie's brows arching "you cannot be serious! Oh my god!" The boy yelled before storming off not saying anything else. Childish much? At this old age? Talking to his father like that? Wow the disrespect.
You look back at Harry only when he speaks— "sorry for his behaviour." He spoke as you remained shocked "it's okay... but... I didn't realise you were his dad..." you admit and he smiles slightly "he took his mothers last name. His mother and I are divorced, you see… he doesn’t exactly like that his mother has gone out for a pamper evening and has left me to look after him.” He explained— so Jamie really did have daddy issues? Huh. Your lips part slightly as you realise what he was saying "oh... that makes sense... i- uhm... wow."
Harry nods "Jamie still holds a grudge against me. It's diff-" harry cuts himself off realising what he was saying to his sons friend before he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose "I apologise... uh..." your eyes snap back up to his eyes from roaming across each of his tattoos “Y/n…” you speak with a small smile "I'm sorry y/n... you've come here to party and-" the way your name rolled off of his tongue so perfectly drove you insane and you weren’t sure why. "No sir..." "Harry." He cuts you off making your cheeks flush red "sorry, no Harry. I came here not on my own accord..." you let out a nervous laugh. "My friend begged me to come. I didn't really want to be here anyway so... it's okay. You're far more interesting than this party anyways." You speak soon realising how weird that sounded your eyes widening, Harry quickly catching on as he let out a small chuckle that sounded like honey to your ears— waving one hand at you to signal you not to worry. Dismissing your concerns. "Don't worry. I know what you mean."
You smile feeling the conversation become dry and although you didn't want to leave you knew you should best go find Anna. "I'll see you around, Harry." You speak with a small smile and he nods his head at you "yes you will. I'll see you around, y/n." He tilted his head at you and you smiled before quickly leaving to go and find Anna. As you made your way through all the dancing bodies your eyes finally locked on Anna who seemed to be totally black out drunk. Already. Great! Another time where you had to look after her for her stupid decisions. Her eyes immediately found yours and she practically jumped up and stumbled towards you, lips smushing against your cheek leaving a nice red lipstick mark “Anna you’re so drunk… you really don’t know when you stop.” You murmur to her, watching Jamie drunk too but sensible enough to remain vigilant assuring you that he could deal with her. You were unsure but eventually accepted it walking back to the kitchen and grabbing another drink, sticking to yourself yet throughout the entire night you felt eyes on you… which was an extremely rare occurrence. But this night— someone couldn’t keep their eyes off of you. He couldn’t.
The night continued on, you didn’t touch a drop of alcohol but eventually nearly everyone was filing out and just as you were about to go and find Anna again a cold hand grabbed a hold of your wrist yanking you harshly back into the kitchen where you were roughly slammed against the kitchen counter a pair of dark brown eyes meeting yours— your breath hitched your eyes wide, drink that was once in your hand now on the floor the liquid spilling out of it,
“You’re so pretty…”
The boys wandering hands began groping at your body “p-please get off of me.”
“P-p-p-p… scaredy cat. Never been touched by someone before hmm?”
Hi words were vile and cruel making your stomach churn. “I—“ you tried to gather your thoughts “I don’t even know you! Get off of me!” “Well my names Evan and your name is Y/n. Correct? You know me just fine babe..” a low chuckle left his lips your eyes widening further as you felt his hand suddenly trailing further down your body,
“Somebody hel—“
“Shut up!” His hand clamped over your mouth as he glared into your eyes “don’t you want to not be a virgin anymore? Isn’t that embarrassing? But it makes sense doesn’t it. Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?” His words are cruel amusement flickering in his dark eyes your breathing growing laboured as tears formed in your eyes “what? Babe I’m telling you the truth don’t you get that? I just want to help—“
“What the fuck is going on here?” The sudden voice made both yours and Evan’s head snap towards the door the once horrible guy now stumbling back, eyes wide as his eyes remain upon Harry. Your breathing trembled, hands shaking “nothing” “nothing? It didn’t look like nothing.” Harry spat out taking intimidating steps towards Evan “I have half the mind to break your jaw…” “you’d be arrested” Evan spat back, Harry raising his brows “on what terms? Self defence? I saw you touching her. I saw her cry. I heard her scream for help whilst you covered her mouth. Now that isn’t very consensual now is it?” You watched with horrified eyes as Harry was now eye to eye with Evan not touching him whatsoever but the clear domination he had, had Evan pressed into the wall looking scared out of his mind “but you’d be arrested. Assault. bodily harm. Sexual assault… I doubt you’d want to find out anymore of the charges you could face… isn’t that correct Evan?”
But before Evan even said anything the once confident asshole had ran straight past Harry, practically shitting himself.
Harry’s jaw was clenched, tempted to go after him but decided not to knowing he had better things to worry about. You. He attempted to calm himself down before he eventually looked towards you noticing how you remained against the counter— still trembling “y/n…” he took a slow advance towards you and your breath hitched “hey… it’s me. It’s all alright.” His tone was softer than before, extending his hand out towards you his concern clear, and before either of you could’ve prepared yourselves you had practically slammed yourself into him arms wrapped securely around his waist, your fingers curled into the material of his shirt as you trembled his tall figure towering over you as he peered down at you, shaking in his embrace, scarred… he secured both arms around you and pulled you closer to the point your face was smushed completely into his chest the smell of his strong expensive cologne drifting into your senses… he smelt like heaven.
His hand slowly traced up and down your back in a soothing manner. “You’re okay, y/n.” His voice was assuring as he kept a tight grip on you attempting to console you as best as possible yet you refused to let him see your face, remaining practically glued to him. “Is there someone you’d like me to call? Someone to take you home?” He questioned but he didn’t get a response out of you, you were shutting down completely as a flight or fight response. He however didn’t push you, instead wrapping his arm around you again as he began leading your half aware self upstairs walking you into the guest bedroom of the large house— closing the door behind the both of you before he sat you down, your shaking hands rushing to grab onto him again scared he was going to leave…
“I’m here y/n. Right here.” He exhaled softly sitting beside you on the bed, his large hand resting upon your shoulder gently— thumb caressing lightly against the material of your dress his eyes watching the top of your head, you refused to look at him and that saddened him. “Hey…” he reached his free hand out towards you finger pressing underneath your chin as he guided you to look at him your eyes filled to the brim with tears “h-harry..” you whimpered his eyes softening and he without even thinking pulled you in close “I’m here. I’m right here…” “please don’t leave.” He silently shook his head and exhaled softly before he kicked his shoes off, the thump of each one landing on the ground making you realise your friends friend dad was sharing a bed with you… to comfort you of course.
Harry leaned back, tattooed arm being quick to pull you close giving you no choice as he simply pulled you on top of him “i— too heavy—“ you breathed out shakily but that didn’t stop the man from pulling you onto his chest, arms tightly wrapped around you “nonsense. Relax.”
Those two words were the only words he spoke to you, forcing you to relax against him, his hand trailing up and down your back soothingly making sure to give you all the comfort possible. He held you tight not daring to let go of you, his eyes constantly checking on you until he believed you were asleep your breathing much more calmer and quiet, but despite the fact that he knew he could leave… he didn’t want to.
9PM slowly rolled to 11PM until it was 4AM— Harry was still wide awake, eyes however slightly hooded his breathing slow and quiet along with yours. You hadn’t stirred at all you remained silent, Harry stayed convincing himself it was because he was worried you would have a nightmare but he knew it was much more than that. Much more. His eyes tiredly focused on the red digital clock 4:15AM… he never called in sick for work— ever. But if he had to, to look after you then he would. He had spent the time you were asleep trying to figure out his feelings, telling himself how wrong it was… but you ignited something within him. Something he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Harry”
Your morning voice was cute somethings harry noticed immediately. “Y/n.” He responded, voice deep but soft his voice confirming he had stayed there for you. He had protected you… something no other guy had done for you… “what time is it?” You ask him groggily as you slowly force yourself to sit up, Harry’s arms unwrapping from around you “4:19” he spoke simply and you rubbed your eyes letting out a quiet groan your head pounding from the events of last night. You were now sat on top of him, slightly straddling him— innocently so Harry’s eyes searching your face tiredly his hands lazily grasping onto your hips mindlessly. “Can I ask you something personal?” You soon question him, his brows arching flawlessly as he tries to figure out what exactly you meant but nonetheless he nodded his head. “Do guys really not like fat girls?”
The question clearly alarmed him, his eyes readjusting on you before he furrowed his brows “what makes you say that?” He murmured quietly “what he said last night… or what he was hinting at. The reason I haven’t lost my virginity yet is because I’m too fat.” Harry stares blankly for a moment or two before he blinks his eyes a bit of surprise lingering on his face not expecting you to be so honest with him seeing as you had only met last night…
“Y/n that was a boy. A boy looks for magazine cover girls… skinny… big boobs big butts— fake. Edited. A man looks for what’s on the inside. A pretty smile. A pretty personality. What’s on the inside… sure people will have their own preferences…. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. Because you are.” His eyes remain glued to yours, searching your face for any look of doubt which he could shut down immediately but there was none detected… only surprise. “I’m beautiful?” He nods silently to confirm your shocked question, a smirk forming on his lips making his dimples appear and your breath hitches as you search his face and in those moments you finally realise the position you were in— legs straddling him, hands touching lightly against his chest your eyes widening slightly “I’m so sorry I-“ “stay.” His voice was stern green eyes staring into yours “what?” Your voice is shocked yet again and he smiles
“Be a good girl and stay.”
You felt your heart pounding wildly in your chest your eyes searching his face “you’re beautiful, y/n… you want to know something?” His hands remain resting upon your hips and you nod hesitantly “yesterday when I met you… I was certain you weren’t as innocent as they say you are… but maybe you are… have you ever touched yourself before?” His words leave you shocked, your cheeks furiously heating up as you stare at him shocked “w-what?” “Have you ever touched yourself?” Your breath hitched feeling him rub soothing circles into your hips your eyes searching his face certain he was toying with you…. To make you feel some sort of hope… or maybe he just felt bad for you and at that thought your heart dropped “Harry I— I don’t need your sympathy please… I—“
“Who said anything about sympathy y/n? Have you touched yourself before? A simple question.” His words made a hot fever like wave flush into your stomach a shaky breath leaving your lips “yes… but…” your mouth got as dry as a bone as you attempted to wrack your brain to not say something stupid. “But…?” He coaxed delicately your eyes snapping to meet his again “but I can’t get what I want.” He quirks a brow and you knew that he knew what you meant. He wasn’t stupid. “It’s embarrassing—“ “oh no it’s not.” His large hand caresses against your cheek, finger tips soon curling around the nape of your neck as he began pulling you closer to him until you were practically inches away from one another…
“It’s okay y/n.”
You search his eyes nervously and he smiles a slight twinkle in his eyes making your stomach flutter with butterflies “life is a learning curve…”
You stare at him expectantly, confused, watching as he smiled “you just haven’t had the right teacher.” His words made your stomach leap as your breath caught in your throat… what did that mean? He was going to teach you? But before you could’ve even asked he had sat himself up, back against the headboard— lips finding yours in a deep sensual kiss his fingers pressed against the nape of your neck keeping you still the kiss getting deeper, more passionate, leaving you breathless— you weren’t even sure you were doing it correctly, Harry pulling back momentarily to look at you “Harry I don’t know how to do this.”
“Don’t worry, love.” His tone was reassuring as he smiled calmly at you. “Just follow my lead.”
His lips attached to yours again his kiss making you dizzy. It was addicting. His hands trailed up and down your sides delicately, before his hands carefully began prying at the hem of your dress guiding it further and further upwards before finally removing it from your body his eyes studying you. He looked at you as if you were a supermodel…
“Lay down.”
His tone was demanding but you still did so. Getting off of him and laying down, left only in your bra and underwear which was highly vulnerable for you but you tried not to stress too much.
He got onto his knees, the bed creaking slightly as he adjusted himself over you, his lips pressing against yours gently as he began kissing down your neck— sucking slightly every so often hearing the sweet sounds that left your mouth “that feel good hm?” You nodded your head gently the simplicity of him kissing your neck drove you absolutely wild your stomach in knots but it felt good. He began trailing kisses down your body, lips pressing softly against your tummy insecurity immediately getting the best of you as you whined attempting to cover up “hey..” he strict voice grabbed your attention “you’re beautiful.” He spoke making you remove your hands which were nervously remaining close to your body. He eventually continued to leave kisses all over until eventually he had reached your thighs his eyes flicking up to meet yours “get comfortable.” He spoke simply watching you grab a few pillows before you laid down comfortably “good girl.”
He peered down just between your thighs— closing his mouth as he sucked in a sharp breath as the sight of you before him… all for him. To devour. To ruin. To make sure you knew your worth… all. For. Him. “If you want me to stop at any point. We can. Understood?” He spoke watching you nod “use your words, Angel.” “Yes Harry.” You spoke shakily and he smiled. Boundaries were always good to have in place. He wanted you to know that you were allowed to have boundaries. You felt the sensation of your panties being slid down your legs, exposing your heat to him— using one single finger to trace up and down your slit a shiver running directly down your spine a low whimper leaving your lips “feels good hm” your breath only hitched no words leaving your mouth as the odd but wonderful sensation soon becomes your favourite thing. His finger didn’t linger too long in any specific place— sliding up and down before mercilessly toying with your clit. Pointer finger delicately tracing around the bud whines and moans leaving your lips as he watched your every reaction as if he was taking an image of the moment in his mind. Not wanting to forget it. “That’s it relax… relax for me y/n.” He praised delicately watching how your body relaxed further into the bed his tongue soon adding to the pleasure, flicking over your clit and all over your body shaking with the new feelings erupting throughout you “feel good angel?”
“Yes sir” a cry of pleasure leaves your lips and for the first time Harry didn’t correct you— instead he smirked, tongue lashing more fervently against your heat.
As your body began to squirm his large hands grasped onto your thighs, holding your still keeping you down for him as he continued flicking his tongue all over your core. “A-ah harry..” you cried out your back arching up off of the bed as an unfamiliar feeling surrounded you— tingles running up and down your body “that’s it… that’s it… oh such a good girl…” incoherent whimpers of his name left your lips until eventually your first orgasm ripped throughout you— Harry moaning, the sound of his moan enticing something within you a look of pride within his eyes “good girl.” He smiled genuinely as you panted, attempting to calm yourself down. He repositioned himself on his knees his hand beginning to trace up and down your arm slowly and carefully soothing you, allowing you to catch your breath your hands working before your brain as you reached out towards his jeans— his ring covered hands immediately stopping your hands,
“Ah ah impatient our we?”
A smirk tugged at his lips “please.” You spoke and he studied you carefully “tell me.” He spoke tenderly “tell me what you want to do?” One hand traced up to your cheek which he caressed gently, thumb brushing over your lower lip delicately “make you feel good…” you murmured softly Harry quirking a brow at your innocence but he decided not to pry. Instead he nodded “are you sure?”
He watched you nod your eyes meeting his again “you’re my teacher right?”
He smirked slightly and let out a low chuckle before he only nodded. Allowing you to undo his jeans as he leaned back. His length was hard— his hand immediately beginning to rub up and down your eyes watching him carefully “see what I’m doing?” He spoke, you nodding. “You do that.” You slowly took over your hand beginning to pump up and down, his head leaning backwards eyes rolling into the back of his head slightly and the more comfortable you got the more quick your pace grew “you’re doing it darling… you’re doing great.” He praised breathy moans continuing to leave his lips— he continued guiding you until his hand was in your hair, helping you as your mouth began hollowing out around him, tongue swirling around the tip— doing everything almost naturally Harry’s groans and moans growing louder
“Fuck y/n your mouth feels so good… fuck!”
His grip tightened on your hair helping move your head up and down until eventually his cock twitched and his orgasm wrapped around him his moans gravelly and beautiful driving you insane making you want more… desperate for more… greedy for more… and as he pulled you up and off of him by the hair his eyes were glazed over with hunger “fuck… you felt so fucking good.” He spoke clearly feeling the same. Just as hungry for more his hand coming to caress against your cheek lightly your eyes showing your hunger into which his thumb stroked against your lower lip “next time.” Next time? His eyes searched your face and he smirked slightly “next time when we’re alone in the house I’ll teach you some more.. but for now… we don’t want to get caught do we?” He smirked slightly before shaking his head chuckling slightly “you did so good.” He pulled you in for a light kiss a little confident grin tugging at your lips…
“Learnt from the best.” You whispered his green eyes glowering into yours as he grinned keeping a hold on you… it was very clear neither of you were forgetting each other anytime soon.
I hope this was okay and you enjoyed it! I kinda just went with the flow rather than with an actual idea in my head so I hope it isn’t awful… I haven’t written smut in a while so excuse it if it’s bad… anyways more stories coming hopefully soon! Thanks for reading loves!!
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pseudophan · 5 months
Note
on of those twitter phannies yesterday was like “soviet of you haven’t watch BIG in a while maybe you should” in regards to people talking about the hand holding in spooky week and i badly wanted to respond being like ?? basically i’m gay… the video where dan calls phil his soulmate and literally confirms everything 😭 maybe they should watch BIG again actually
there is this weird thing where some people heard dan say that the speculation about his sexuality and invasion of privacy that he endured was traumatic and somehow from that got that he hates so-called "Phan Shippers" and is against anyone talking about him and phil potentially being a couple and it's so bizarre because it's just literally not what he said at all ? and if he did say that it would be highly hypocritical because, and i cannot stress this enough, dan and phil have always leaned into the shipping thing. always. they know it gets them views and they also clearly find it funny. that was never the issue.
the actual issue has always been people demanding answers and straight up harassing them about it, accessing their families' social media looking for clues, showing up at their literal home being weird, and, while closeted, constantly asking them if they're gay. THAT was the issue, that's what dan is talking about in his video.
i'm not even saying the general shipping didn't also get on their nerves sometimes, i'm sure it absolutely did, but that's not at all what dan said really affected him mentally.
the amount of times dan and phil have joked about it, actively encouraged fanfic (both by tongue-in-cheek writing it themselves and many times saying they consider fanfic to be a good creative outlet), referred to themselves as "phan" (a term they coined themselves, lest we forget), gone along with phannie jokes about them being together, and most of all emphasised that they generally try to stay out of fan spaces (i.e. anything they aren't tagged in) because they want us to feel free to be weird and post whatever without being afraid they'll see it... i'm sorry but to then vehemently insist dan and phil hate it when people ship them and are gonna ?? stop uploading again ?? if we do it ?? fucking stupid. and unbelievably annoying. if you don't like rpf that's fine, but there are so many more important issues you could dedicate your time to than policing people going 'aww' over two lameass grown men touching hands.
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sapphorror · 2 months
Text
Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening
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Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.
Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.
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Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).
Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)
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Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).
The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.
Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.
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“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric.  I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.
Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.
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Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable  at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming. 
Irkens are collapsible, apparently
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82 notes · View notes
whoetoshaw · 1 year
Text
THE FAMOUS BREAK UP | h. lewis
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summary: your break up with harry. [19k words.]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S).
notes: ⚠️ mentions of drug use! angsty. harsh insults. ⚠️ the longly awaited fic. hoping to break some hearts. give you some relationship history. believe it or not, this is the first thing i wrote: 21st of Oct to be exact! however, i want to emphasise that this is just a fic!!! i like to think sweet bby boy harry would never say such things to his mrs 😌🫶🏼. part 1 of 3. plz plz plzzzzz let me know what you think!! i love a good discussion on here. i been holding this off for ages cuz i keep changing it and trying to keep it from getting cringe so i hope it’s good enough for now!! who knows, i may add more changes! anyway! lots of love, don’t forget to reblog!! <333
song rec: static, steve lacy / an evening i will not forget, dermot kennedy / what was i made for? billie eilish / can’t love you in the dark, adele / lose you to love me, selena gomez. *sonder is an album i cannot recommend enough when it comes to the break up saga. very on brand. 🫶🏼
part ii | part iii
YOU HAD KNOWN HARRY SINCE the first day of secondary school. Stuck out like a sore thumb, he did — loud, forever laughing and, not surprising in the slightest, causing catastrophe. Somehow, by the end of your school days, you were dating at 17 years old.
It was simple: you loved him and he loved you.
You were everything to each other. His best friend. His favourite thing to come home to. His safe space. There was nothing he couldn’t go to you for — you were his everything. It for him. His match.
He was convinced you were put on this earth for him.
Best friends and lovers, a dynamic duo. There were never any issues in your entire relationship. It was easy. No rumours. No scandals. No drama. No doubt. It was scarily easy. You just understood each other.
Despite trying not to exploit your entire relationship online, you were, however, the fan-favourite couple online, from what fans had seen. Going crazy when you made appearances in videos and (unofficially) awarding you the Favourite Sidemen Girlfriend title.
So when you’d gone ghost on your socials in 2018 and Harry was pictured back with his ex in 2019, you weren’t the only one torn over the ending of your relationship.
Harry’s school friends back in the day did him no favours, always guiding him down a path he wasn’t meant for, leading him in the wrong direction. You didn’t really know them, but Harry always stuck out, and it was probably because of how different he was compared to them.
They were annoying and irritating but Harry was annoying-funny as much as your 13-year-old self hated to admit. I mean, you never laughed and let him know but you definitely had those moments of ‘holy shit this kid is fucking strange’. Incredibly irritable. You found it hard to like him.
He was annoying but there was always something about him. His demeanour didn’t suit him. He seemed too empathetic. Soft deep down or something, he stood out from his group of hoods with his fluffy blond hair and comedic grin. He never meant any harm.
What angered you the most was how stupid he really was but also unbelievably smart: sitting and passing his Maths GCSE a year earlier than everybody else and getting the highest grade achievable, so you knew he was different from his ‘friends’.
Unlike them, he had potential to really do something with himself.
You’d always complained to your parents about him when they asked how your day at school was, you didn’t even mean it, it was a subconscious thing. Your brain picked it out before you did. You didn’t even need to mention his last name, they knew:
“Yeah, was alright today. Just the same twats getting on everyone’s nerves.”
“Yeah? The boys?”
“Like . . just the usual ones, like . . . Harry threw himself off the table today. For what? What is the need? So strange.”
Your family used to joke and say you’d liked him as he was the only name that only popped up until they realised you genuinely were anything but impressed with him and his childish antics. Yeah, you were teenagers, but what was funny about throwing yourself head first at a wall and hurting yourself? Boys had an odd fucking sense of humour.
But it all changed one day when you’d met him outside school, when you’d finally left the place.
You’d worked since you were young. Whether it was a stupid corner-shop job or housekeeping, you’d gone into the working world as a young teen to –as what your dad would say– fund your expensive lifestyle. AKA, pay for you own clothes and takeaways.
Just after your 17th birthday, you’d began a shitty job as an operator of some kind for people with broken TVs or Wifi, telling people where to go to fix customers shitty wifi routers or TV signals from an office stall. Everyone knew your job, as most people did in secondary school because when it came to break, all the older kids sat at their table and complained about them customers they had to deal with during their Tesco shift or the regulars they served at their bar or the faces they painted with makeup as an upcoming M.U.A. You mentioned of the idiots you dealt with on the daily over the phone and how their Wifi would work if they typed in the password stuck under the bottom of the router – a story that made your teachers laugh.
Anyhow, you’d been at Tesco, out of school now for a few months and awaiting offers from different universities to see if any were interesting enough to accept - you’d spotted him down the aisle with his Mum.
Harry was a loud person, you’d always noted, as much as he acted shy around certain folk (mostly adults) he seemed a right attention-seeker in school: talking loud, making a fool of himself and showing off in front of his friends.
The Harry you’d seen that day was not Harry.
It wasn’t that he was fake in school, but with him Mum he mustn’t have felt the need to be so in your face. He was calm. Chill. Helping her even, holding the basket and pointing or reaching for the things on the top shelf as he towered over her – the first thing that clenched at your heart.
He’d looked over and saw you looking, and a soft smile was sent your way, and then a tiny wave.
Your heart stopped.
It was the cutest interaction you’d ever witnessed, and you hadn’t expected it. Certainly not from him: this was not the Harry Lewis you knew in school.
Like most people in school, you didn’t even think he properly knew your name you were so quiet in school; you didn’t bother with a lot of people as they got on your nerves — specifically the class clowns, so for him to greet you from afar and actually place your face, that warmed you. Harry was shy of girls you’d later learned from him, which only added to your adoration later.
You could remember laying in bed when you’d got the text online from him just days after:
Hey. I know this is random but—
He’d gone onto explain how he knew you worked with internet connections and things and would really appreciate if you could settle his Mum’s nerves and fix their bloody WiFi box before they had to call in the professionals. You replied yeah, telling you’d be down the following day or so to check it out yourself before getting the Big Boys in if necessary.
It was a small favour. You had nothing better to do. He didn’t live that far away, why wouldn’t you?
You could remember arriving at his home and being guided into the living room by his Mum, conversation flowing smoothly between you both as you managed to sort out the issue. Harry had awkwardly appeared halfway through and held his dog out of your way who wouldn’t seem to stop sniffing about as you crouched down by the TV stand. He looked better out of his school uniform, wearing a dark sweatshirt and joggers, his hair spiked up messily as you assumed he’d been chilling in his room, laying down.
He talked away to you as you worked your magic, so much as getting you to laugh at an accidental crude joke he’d covered his mouth straight after making, forgetting you weren’t that close. But the comment you made back surprised him, not expecting a response like that from you. A reckless remark. Another that bruised his ego when you outsmarted him, but he took it. He could handle you.
You were there for almost an hour and had been offered a cup of tea, talking about life with both him and his Mum and unknowingly winning her approval even back then. You learned a lot about him in that hour (thanks to his mum) as he did about you, and it ignited something. Topics led into different topics and you were snowballing, revealing bit by bit about yourself that had him listening better than he ever could in any lesson.
When you’d mentioned about being at a rave and booking tickets for an upcoming festival— Harry was sucked in. He couldn’t believe you were up for things like that, which made you laugh, because I mean – who didn’t love an excuse to get drunk and dance with friends? When those words slipped, you really bonded with Harry, sharing stories and your own personal takes on the different kinds of people at those gatherings, finding your first common ground. Seeing how the other really was when the adults weren’t around.
He sounded so fucking fun to hang out with, laid back and more himself rather than forcing jokes out 24/7 when his friends were around. His best humour came naturally.
Not a lot of girls liked him for the same reasons you didn’t, therefore he didn’t like them back, which he didn’t necessary lose sleep over. Girls were bitchy and took everything personal anyway, in his opinion. But then there was you, who surprised him by how opposite you were to the ones in your classes. You actually seemed like someone who could make him laugh. Who he could get along with. You could handle him.
You had to leave and come back the next day and it was like you’d never left. Harry greeted you at the door like he’d been expecting you, secretly hoping to continue your little discussion you had going on the day prior. Looking as cute as ever at his front door, in the comfort of his own home, he warmly welcomed you with the biggest beam of a smile, embarrassed if it came across obvious he’d been looking forward to you coming back.
He talked away once again as you finished up the process of refurbishing their router, his Mum ditching the convo this time around when she felt it was out of her age range - that neither you needed her to be there. Harry had really made you laugh this time ‘round, your cheeks blushing as you covered your hand when you laughed because you didn’t want to let out your horrific cackle when he said something sketchy. When you went home and he texted, you were over the moon, happy your exchange hadn’t ended when you’d fixed his router.
The upbeat mood going unnoticed by your fam, and they became suspicious when you were suddenly always texting somebody on your phone.
You’d never had anything like that before. Not even with your friend group, before they’d gone off to do GCSEs somewhere else.
You talked every so often, mainly over socials when you were both online and he sent something he knew you could chat over, about something you’d brought up during your visit in his home. One topic he’d brought up was festival season, when he’d asked if you were going to an upcoming festival.
You’d been in two minds to go as your friends weren’t really feeling it and that was fine with you — you understood not everyone was a fan of dancing in the cold in a field with other people snorting and shagging in every direction you looked. Like yourself, they went for nothing else than a dance, drinks and maybe a cheeky snog if they were looking to get over their ex. If they were worthy enough. Good-looking, which was a rarity for you.
When that day arrived, that familiar feeling of euphoria overtaking you as you found yourself in your element in your current surroundings, accompanied by your girlfriends, having a drink and sharing a laugh. Harry hadn’t even came into your mind, and you were kind of glad about it, thinking it’d probably go back to that awkward dynamic, having been a couple months since you last spoke over text - your conversations dead and dismissed. Probably forgotten all about.
But then he saw you.
You’d only met his gaze in the laser-lit room and silently waved at him from across the crowd, not expecting anything more back.
But to your upmost surprise, you’d watched him ditch his crew and make his way over to you without a second thought, it was like it was on instinct. He just gravitated towards you.
You were beyond flattered, not expecting anything more than a subtle wave back. Your face was hot, feeling self-conscious at him seeing you up close and with your makeup and hair done, smiling so brightly across at you.
He was utterly mesmerised by you. You weren’t used to this devoted attention. You where overwhelmed at his blanking of others when he was with you.
You were mesmerised by him. You were in awe. You thought he was the most adorable thing once again in his partying fit - especially the crossbag hanging over his chest, but also something mildly sexy about it with his flushed cheeks and messy hair and expensive-smelling aftershave.
You were glad it was a dark room, for you’d be a mess if he could see how flustered his company made you, especially sitting so close in the booth, knee to knee, an arm around the back of your chair.
And don’t even get me started on the repetitive ducking of his head so he could hear you properly.
You did a shot together and talked shit (almost knocking your tooth out in a fast attempt to swig it back) catching up one what’d gone on in the weeks you stopped talking. You talked for so long, in your own bubble, and it made you realised you missed him. Or you missed the company of someone. Having someone to talk to you. Someone like him to talk to, someone like him who got you.
You had felt bad incase he felt stuck talking with you after not knowing how to say goodbye to go party on with his friends, but he didn’t feel that way at all. If anything - he made an excuse to go check on his friends incase you didn’t want to speak to him anymore and wanted to go hang with your friends. He felt back hogging you. You were both annoyed to have had to force yourselves to pull away from each other.
Your friends could have punched you and slammed you a hypocrite for getting cozy with Harry Lewis after years complaining about him throughout your school. You didn’t care though, laughing with them and giving a shrug when they teased you for fancying him, which felt a bit like a cultural reset to your group.
You remembered hugging him before wandering off in the massive club again, a sign of relief leaving you as you felt like you got a little breather in life just from speaking to him. You needed that little interaction.
You parted, and went back to dancing with the girls and doing your own thing, feeling guilty for leaving them so long.
By the end of the night, just before phoning a taxi home, before you had no money left and your phone doed, you came back from the far side of the building from the toilets, and bumped into his group of friends. Some you recognised, a lot you did not, and they didn’t look any friendlier than the others.
You could remember that feeling of your stomach dropping when you were shoved and stepped onto the tow of another’s shoe, feeling like you were cornered by these roadmen wanna-be’s.
You weren’t an intimidated person - nobody scared you, and you were a very confrontational individual.
In saying that — you were a teenage girl.
You were almost a target and at times you had no choice but to make yourself small. Seeing the tall figure tower above you, viciously inhaling through their nose and wipe at it, it nerved you, the fear coming from what he’d just snorted and what it may trigger him to do in such state of mind.
They looked down on you.
I’m about to have an argument with a junkie, you braced yourself. He’s going to hit me and i’m gonna have to hit him back harder.
You saw the keys on the table and the way they cleaned their nose in the least discreet manner ever. You made it two steps before your back hit the front of someone else, and you immediately turned to defend yourself, almost tripping over your feet in a rush.
A hand wrapped reassuringly and protectively around your arm, preventing you from stumbling on your ankle. Your body tensed until you saw the same soft gaze looking down at you, brows raised cautiously. “You alright?”
He gave you a smile, reassuring you that it was only him, and you relaxed again.
Those pearly white teeth.
Harry pulled you a little away from the populated spot to a emptier space, the room beginning to empty anyway as the event came to it’s end, and people already began the hunt for the next place to party.
His group of ‘friends’ seemed unbothered once you’d gone, nodding to the bathroom, sharing knowing glances. You felt goosebumps rise on your arms.
What the fuck — what wastes of breaths.
You wanted to ask him, why do you hang out with those guys? But upon sitting next go Harry under the bright lights — you felt the words die on your tongue.
The Guernsey boy reminded you of a kid trying to act sober in front of their parents after coming home from a night out.
His eyes were wide and he looked so intensely into you, like you’d accuse him of not being awake if they dulled just a little. Arms crossed, you saw his fingernails scratching anxiously at the inside of his elbow. You saw him trying to subtly clench his jaw, muscles twitching. It was his pupils that would have gave it away - they were massive.
His mates needed to take notes from him - because at least he knew how to clean his nose.
You looked at him for a moment, a low and sicky, hollow feeling ripping in your stomach at the discovery on the boy you were beginning to really grow fond of.
You felt on edge beside him, not knowing what to expect of him. You felt like it was best if you’d left.
You did not expect that from Harry at all.
It really stunned you.
He’d noticed your staring and grew conscious, wiping his hand to his mouth and by his nose, looking nervously back at you as he felt like you’d suddenly grown knowledgeable of his secret.
It felt awkward, and suddenly you didn’t know if you wanted to sit with him. “Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine, yeah,” you assured, convincingly nodding your head. Your hands were clammy on your thighs. You didn’t know where to look, worried looking into his eyes would only make him feel more conscious.
You were a teenager. Growing up, you were shxoked to uncover that doing drugs was a lot more common than you thought. It was like how they made it out to you in school or in the movies were you’d immediately be arrested if caught doing them — no. You could remember the nights out with your friends after exam-week and peers from your class mentioning how they’d gone out before the big test and snorted lines the night before. It was crazy how normalised it was when you reached that age.
You personally? You’d never touch it.
You didn’t care if everyone around you did it, you didn’t care if they laughed at you for finding coke scary.
You didn’t care. You weren’t that girl. You didn’t need it.
Harry could feel it waring off, reaching his high 10 minutes ago and was starting to feel embarrassed and guilty for having you sort of shy away from him.
No. No don’t do this, Y/n. Come on.
He couldn’t sabotage this. He was hooked on it already, he was smitten with your dynamic; with your presence. He couldn’t ruin this.
Growing confident, he gently pulled your opposite arm to tilt your body towards him so you would face him, so you could see his face and see that he wasn’t scary to be around. He didn’t want to scare you off because that wasn’t him.
Harry didn’t want to seem like he was obsessed already, pushing feelings aside and shrugging odd emotions when he began to think about it too long. But he had been captivated since day one. Truth be told, he’d always find his eyes wandering to your side of the room since your days in school. He just couldn’t suss you out. Since the supermarket, he’d felt like he’d gotten the first clue: you weren’t the stone-cold bitch everyone took you for. You were friendly, and approachable. You didn’t think you were better than everybody.
He wanted to know more and more about you every time he had the chance to see you. He liked how you made him nervous and excited at the same time, how you had your shy moments with him when you felt like you were getting comfortable too quickly but also had your boosts of confidence that allowed you to tell him off when he said something too crude.
He liked how you found him funny and weren’t afraid to challenge him when he got too cocky; humbling him with a snarky comment or retaliating an even funnier joke back. As if he didn’t find your attractive as it was — your personality and humour made you a solid 90 out of 10. He liked how you shared so much in common, but your humour was impacting. Not many people could make him properly laugh, but you managed to every time you’d been in his company, whether with a stupid comment or witty joke he was about to say himself.
This, however, was clearly not something you shared in common. For if he thought what had made you this way was true, he felt like a right freak.
“You sure?” He asked softer, looking endearingly down at you, trying to think of how to break the tension.
He’d never wanted to sober up so quickly in his life. “. . do you need me to buy you another shot for you to break your tooth on?”
You broke at that, head dropping with a small laugh.
Harrys’s smile grew. He almost laughed at the sound of your giggling. “Seriously, I-I know the tooth fairy brings you money but if your that desperate for a quid, fuck me, I can lend you a few—”
You laughed next to him, covering your mouth as chuckles filled you, his own grin of amusement taking his face – it made your heart swell with butterflies.
He is so handsome, you thought, seeing that perfectly sight of white teeth. Such a pretty smile he had.
He’s such a darling.
So, so stupid — but a darling.
You completely ignored the elephant in the room and talked some more and danced together at the rave, surprised by how normal Harry seemed to become, despite definitely being in on whatever shit his friends had been sharing. You tried not to let it effect you as you both voiced your love for certain DJs: Avicii being the number one for both you, unknowing he’d play a big part into your relationship because of that first shared love for something.
But you couldn’t help but feel like there was something fake about it all.
Your friends had called and you and told you to join them outside shortly after as their taxi would be here in less than 10 minutes. Harry walked out to the front doors, the drug’s effects now completely worn off, and finished his convo on his plans for the future and what he wanted to do with his career. You’d only just recently discovered he did YouTube and goodness - the look on your face when he told you you could get paid for it was something he’d never forget! You were impressed! He seemed to have a very clear idea on what he wanted to do and what he needed to do to make it happen, really impressing you with how educated he was with the business side of things.
He knew his stuff, leaving you dumbfounded at times when he mentioned numbers and big words — you were nodding your head in understanding half the time when you didn’t even know what statistics he was speaking of.
Definitely more than meets the eye with this one.
And it left you with a sense of frustration that he was out doing stupid stuff like this when he had so much potential – stuff like that that could easily send you on the wrong tracks.
Opening the front doors and standing out the windy outdoors, he looked at you with his hands under his pits and lazy eyes, curtesy of the unbelievable amount of alcohol he’d consumed tonight and probably aftermath of some drugs. “So . . shall I kick my router in to get you back to my house?”
You laughed at that, swaying to keep yourself warm from the strong winds of the UK and shook your head. You would happily go back to Harry’s house and spend time with him, but, you couldn’t deny that your discovery tonight has effected your views on him quite a bit. You knew he was stupid but you thought he was smarter than that.
Drinking was normal: you had been raised by a family who loved nights of celebration, who joked about being alcoholics, who loved unwinding with it — but drugs? Drugs weren’t even in the equation — as if it weren’t fucking obvious.
Your family had always shared their opinion on those that did drugs and the disgust in their voice when they spoke of those taking them; it was enough to make you feel ashamed even at the thought of imagining doing something. It was clear from a young age and throughout school: drugs were something that would never appeal to you. You didn’t care if it made you cool or not, you weren’t a fucking moron. You wouldn’t run the risk of putting your family through such devastation for a short-lived buzz if anything were to happen to you, let alone waste the money on something that did no favours for your body.
You knew people had their reasons for turning to substance abuse, but looking at Harry, you felt so let down. No explanation or excuse was justifiable.
He burst your bubble.
Your girls waved you over and he crouched to hug you, comfortable in the position of his body pressing to yours and his arm cupping itself around your back, hand reaching your hip. It tingled. You felt the need to hug him tight with your hand on his back, unknowing why you felt a underlying feeling of sympathy to him.
You didn’t know why. Definitely didn’t need it.
But you cared about him.
Suddenly, you worried about him and where he would end up tonight. “I’ll see you about. Let me know when you get home, yeah?”
Harry nodded, keeping your hands on each other as you pulled off from him, wanting to know you meant it. You would worry about him until you knew he’d made it safely back home and in the comfort of his own bed. “Yes, yes of course. You too.”
Your hand cupped the back of his neck as you pulled each other into another quick hug, giving it a squeeze. “Take care of yourself Harry,” you said, looking at him with wishful eyes. “I’m really glad I got to see you tonight.”
Harry really smiled as he pulled his ear away from your lips, not hearing the noise of the crowd anymore. He loved how sincere you sounded for his well-being. He felt warm.
You pulled him in again, bringing his head to your mouth, the next line being something that would stick with him forever, “you don’t need drugs to be funny, you know.”
He was stunned by your comment, and you tried to play it off by trying to make it sound humorous when your hand slipped from his neck, despite meaning every word and maybe even more. “You’re funny the way you are.”
And then you made it to your taxi, letting your other hand slip from his as your girls began expressing their desires for a kebab on the way home. You’d gone home, overanalysing everything that had occurred that night until you found yourself in bed, waiting on that text message that he got home.
You eventually received it, you’d gotten a selfie, in fact, of him laying in bed, a pending hangover on sight with endless text messages moaning to you about it — and it just took off from there.
Since then, the witty messages became casual conversations and the casual conversations became deep conversations when you met up and went out together. It wasn’t long after that you found yourself in the most loving, trusting, good-for-the-soul relationship you thought a person could have. Trust, trust, trust. Respect. Reassurance. Pure loving, you knew you’d never get it with anyone else. People said their boyfriends were their best friends but Harry was undeniably your soulmate in one. You just got each other. You couldn’t explain it.
A soul connection.
People said relationships were hard but since being with Harry, you never understood those kinds of people, because if they claimed to have anything like what you had, it should be as easy as riding a bike.
You had your bickers and arguments over the usual things (dishes, being forgetful of tasks, getting too drunk at weddings or just being a pure pain) but you didn’t fight. There was never anything to fight over. Having a genuine anger towards each other was foreign. You just loved each other and it was as simple as that. Why would you do anything to upset or anger someone like that? Especially for all they do for you? You were the most laid-back couple ever. Just constantly minding your own business.
Your relationship was dreamlike. Although years passed and you’d went into adulthood together, now in your early 20s, you still loved him as much as you did during the days as teens, chilling about in his bedroom in Guernsey.
The only touchy subject was his quote-on-quote: ‘minor drug problem’.
In the beginning, it caused arguments because you’d voiced how you felt towards it and disapproved of it and he’d tell you it was nothing — which would only anger you further. The subject was a slow build up in itself and one day – you weren’t going to put up with it anymore.
It got to the point where it was best all together to just turn a blind eye because you knew Harry wasn’t going to do anything about it. He didn’t cooperate. Made no instigation to change. It was something you were going to have to accept.
The arguments weren’t worth it because although he would apologise and say he’d try to stop - you knew him and you’d caught him more times than once breaking that promise.
That was your first and major mistake: growing used to it. Settling for it.
Okay, yeah, my boyfriend does coke. Whatever. Everyone apparently does it. He doesn’t do it all the time and he has hella more money than I ever will, so i’m not gonna say anything. . .
At least he wasn’t doing anything worse than it.
Well . . wasn’t it a matter of time before he was.
You really didn’t know your boyfriend at all, it seemed.
The jokes made on YouTube weren’t funny to you. When his ‘minor drug problem’ was joked about by the boys – you were never laughing.
You hated how when he was asked to list different types in a challenge, how he was able to name so many, or how he received the drug-related gadgets exchanged for Secret Santa presents. To you, it was like encouragement.
It had become a known thing for there to be clips of you online giving the disapproved stare that’d been made into memes and what people found funnier was Harry’s awkward reaction, trying to get them to calm down in a ‘now is not the time, boys, the Mrs is around’.
Harry had turned the topic into a joke when you brought it up and you hated him for it, hated how he didn’t take you seriously:
“I’m not dating an addict.”
“I’m not an addict, so yes, you would be right.”
“I’m not watching you do this shit!”
“Then don’t watch me.”
He was ignorant. Simple as that. You knew he did drugs and that was all he was gonna let you know - because he knew it was wrong and he didn’t need you on his back anymore than you already were when you found out just what kinds he did.
To be honest, you didn’t know if you did. He joked a lot but you didn’t know if that was all they were: jokes.
LSD.
Ket.
MDMA.
But Harry doing drugs was a sight you’d never see in your lifetime. Always together on nights out, hanging with the same people - but not once had you caught him in the act. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how that would make you feel. How differently you’d view him.
So you disassociated him from them, because that wasn’t your Harry.
You could remember finding Behz and about to ask him if he’d seen your boyfriend. Being on holiday, abroad in movie-like nightclubs, you tended to get a feeling in your gut when he was out of sight for so long, even in your drunkest state. Where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing?
You didn’t need Ethan to answer when you found him yourself, accidentally meeting your eyes before turning around to try and camouflage between bodies. “What? What? What?” He played dumb, looking surprised to see you and confused towards your questioning stare. “What’s wrong? What is it?” He tried to take your hand, but you pulled away and looked him up and down.
Ethan and Harry were a pair, being the youngest two. Did everything together. You looked to the ginger and asked, “what was that?” knowing Harry would never give you an answer, but Ethan held his hands up and escaped, not wanting to interfere with your relationship.
“What was it?” You demanded, looking up at him with stern eyes.
He tried to butter you up, make it playful, laughing as if you were getting worked up over something not serious at all. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing!”
Shoving a hard hand against his shoulder and yelled, “WHAT WAS IT?!”
“Just a bump! just a bump!”
It was sad it had gotten to that point in your relationship were ‘just a bump’ was excusable. Because it had.
You felt you were just as bad for letting him get away with it. You didn’t deserve sympathy when you’d put up with it this long. If any one of your friends or family was in your position – their boyfriend doing so much as sniffing a line as a one off – you’d be utterly disgusted. You wouldn’t have respect for them. You’d be telling them to leave them.
Yet here you were.
“I swear to God, Harry. If you’re lying to me and that’s what I think it is, I swear to God,” the tone of your voice was enough to stick with him to know he’d already fucked it. Shaky. If he could have seen you properly, he’d have been able to have seen the glossy overlay in your eyes, but his head was going to another place, and you knew he’d properly start to laugh when he got in this mood.
You felt like bursting into tears, you felt that frustrated.
You wanted to believe him, but you knew it wasn’t just a bump. You knew when he was lying. But you let it go, because there was no winning this argument - he’d already done the damage. Now you were gonna be paranoid until tomorrow morning until you both woke up together. You weren’t going to fight, especially with him now, so you left him to it, giving in.
You remembered the next time, being stone cold sober this time in the club, because you hadn’t felt like drinking on a path to prove it was just as big a deal whenever you were drinking, and stormed up to him, watching one of the boys toying with a small bag in front of his face, both their cackles annoyingly loud from a distance. You pulled his arm, watching his mood change when he turned around and saw it was you. “What is that?!”
He’d already shook his head and turned around from you, Lux sharing a look with him he thought you’d be stupid enough not to see. “S’just a bump, Y/n, calm yourself,” he laughed, boiling your blood even more with his stupid, patronising tone.
You ignored Callux and yanked Harry, pulling his face down to your level, forcing him to meet your eyes. He tried to pull away, dodging contact and pulled an obvious face of irritation at you embarrassing him. He pulled you off before you could observe the size of his pupils, just to see if you could at least break it into categories.
A lump formed in your throat as he shoved you off but your voice was hushed and angry. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve done nothing else but coke.”
If your past self heard you right now — they’d be laughing at you.
He did, his usual stuttering of repetitive words, telling you ‘it was nothing! it was nothing!’ but even he knew you were not close in the slightest to believing him. He knew you were too fed up to argue and secretly felt like celebrating this small victory.
You left him, not wanting to be around him the rest of the night. These nights out were just not the same anymore. The fun was sucked out of it, getting to a point where you were growing wary of being around your boyfriend after a certain time.
He grew much more secretive when it came to that time of the night when he wandered off with friends — but you were onto him. He’d say he was going out to accompany such and such on a smoke break when you knew fine rightly what they were off to do.
You weren’t stupid and he knew that. You’d say ‘i’ll come with!’ and he’d stutter, saying he’d only be 2 seconds and you’d insist: ‘okay, so i’ll come too!’ – and he hated you for it. Because you were playing as dumb as he was, showing him you weren’t to be underestimated. But he was clever, and still managed to outsmart you, it was the inconvenience of you intruding his plans in front of the boys, being an inconvenience to them as well. And embarrassing him. They loved you and out of all the girls, you were the only one they could still have a ‘lads’ sort of night’ out with– but this was the one thing that made you unbearable. Put a downer on the group.
It was annoying because it didn’t phase Harry. He obviously knew the dangers but like most people - he didn’t think he’d ever be that person. He took the chance.
You didn’t consider him an addict, but he felt like his night wasn’t complete until he took something; reach that ultimate high drink can’t give him.
He was too confident in himself while you were an anxious mess, always preparing for the worst.
Seeing him in that state, it put your stomach in knots. You didn’t like being around to see him like that.
How was that your Harry?
He had never been violent, but it was scary knowing he wasn’t in control of himself, and you hated that, because anything could go wrong at any given moment.
Seeing him in the morning was dreadful too, seeing how rough he looked; how he would sweat or shiver next to you - the smell of his breath was bad enough with drink (as yours could be) not that you ever pointed that out. You could barely look at him the next day. You’d be full of frustration and annoyance, watching him laugh at texts from the group chat over whatever happened the night before.
He he felt bad when you expressed how you hated seeing him like that, even the look on your face in the morning when he knew you weren’t in the best mood with him — but he mustn’t have felt that bad, for he continued doing it.
“You only seem to care when you’re wondering why Freezy isn’t speaking to you or Ethan and I get to tell you all the shit you said to them so you know to go apologise. I’m bloody sick of it, sorry isn’t going to be enough one of these days.”
It was an ongoing cycle and you felt sick at the fact you’d grown accustomed to it. You were disappointed in yourself to have allowed it to feel normalised.
Your anxiety was horrific. Harry had no idea how bad it had gotten. It sickened you and you could do nothing about it.
It was taking its toll. You weren’t the lively girl everyone knew and loved: living wild and free, making the party with your presence — you lost that touch ages ago when your anxiety began to get the best of you. It was impossible to let loose. You were missing out on sleep over his habit, unable to rest properly whether he was in bed next to you or not, the fear of him vomiting in his sleep enough to make you jump awake at any sound he made. It took a toll on you during work the next day, feeling barely awake to get the work done.
It was a secret too, something that you used to laugh at with your friends in the beginning and call you dramatic, but you’d had dreams of Harry dying – sounds dramatic, but it scared you how realistic those dreams could be - how in reach they could be. Ones where you woke up next to him with sick everywhere, feeling your body go into distress before it realised it wasn’t real once you’d wake up. You’d shove him in a panic in the middle of the night until he woke up, and in the foulest mood because you’d disturbed his sleep. But you needed your heart to settle.
It was something Harry was growing impatient with, because he woke up in a panic, wondering what was wrong, and for you to say it was just a nightmare — he wanted to hit you with your pillow.
Your never-ending concern over this was getting tiring. You couldn’t mention it before he went into a stroppy mood — scoffing and tutting for bringing it up, as if he was too embarrassed to talk about it. He found it old. You needed to relax and get over it – you should have known that he knew what he doing by now.
And you know what? The irony in it all was that he would absolutely kill you if you ever thought of doing anything. Taking anything. Snorting something.
It was bad when you found yourself not wanting to talk to him after a night out with the boys, for his antics over the weekend and passed for getting ‘really drunk.’ You could still barely look at him during the weekday. You were getting sick of him. That part of him.
You couldn’t brush it under the carpet. You felt like you were keeping a secret, to friends and to your family. This wasn’t what you advocated as the role model older sister; older cousin. You felt out of place. Stuck.
You’d also had other valid excuses for him to get his act together, most of which that triggered what’s he’d call ‘disagreements’, but did have one that you still stood by, but probably the worst argument you’d ever have:
“—and Harry, no harm, but we are getting older and I know this isn’t something you think about now but when the time comes - this can really fuck with you- with our future plans. If you’re infertile—”
“Oh my — fuck me. I know you’re not actually talking this bollocks right now—”
You were at your wits end, trying to get through to him and to get him to listen to you properly for once, instead of brushing you off and make you were insane for overthinking everything. Feel possessive and controlling. He practically gaslit you into feeling like you were mental for making it such a big deal – but it was, and it always had been for you. You hated how he belittled your feelings on the topic, but he hated you because you made him feel like some little sleazebag, ratty roadman; a junkie even.
“I AM, HARRY!” You stomped your foot as he proceeded to dander around your kitchen in hopes you’d leave him alone. “You don’t get it, it’s not normal! I was talking to your Mum about people starting IVF treatment and how I was devastated for them ‘til I find out they’re known for sniffing coke and doing fucking MDMA every fucking weekend!’”
You’d never shouted the way you had, and even still, Harry dismissed your frustration with his head in the fridge, trying not to cringe at the topic. “You’re losing the plot, woman,” he’d grumbled, expecting you not to hear.
“You’re the one who’s gonna have the problems, not me. I can have babies with whoever I want,” was the comment that had started thee biggest argument you’d have in your life. The petty comment.
In all your years of being with him, you had never been malicious towards one another. You bickered, teased the other, winded each other up and drove them up the walls - but you never actually fought with one another. There was never anything to fight over.
But jeez, he had seen red when you’d accused him of having such tragedy.
It was like you’d wished the thing on him. You would never, ever forget his temper and how he’d spoken to you.
He sounded like he actually hated you.
The weeks leading up to the day at the time were blindsided by everybody, because the simple thought of you two splitting was never in the equation. You were (practically) husband and wife, sealed for life. One soul. One body. Nothing could break you.
But you knew yourself what was coming.
You were tired.
So, so tired.
Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew something changed when he caught himself not being himself with you. He was being colder than usual, less patient. The more you got on his back, the more he began to pull away. He obviously didn’t want to be in your company when you were just slandering him the entire time.
He loved you like he breathed air, but you didn’t need to look at him to get on his nerves. Just the way your stirred your tea with your back to him, he knew you had your hackle up. He thought the peace would be kept better if he was out of your way more, just until you settled this. He thought that’s what you wanted anyway, he felt like he was annoying you and you were annoying him. He’d still be in bed by the end of the night, getting his head scratched.
But 17 year old Harry would find that weird:
What do you mean we’ve been sitting in opposite rooms for more than an hour?
We haven’t went for a Nando’s this week?
What do you mean we went to Calfreezy’s to ‘get away?’ What are we getting away from? From who? Did y/n get away from them too?
He’d figure out soon enough.
It was festival season. Something you both loved. Getting through all the little ones before the main events: Tomorrowland, maybe even Creamfields.
But this time felt different than any other time.
It felt unwelcoming this time around. Deep down, you knew in your gut, something was wrong.
Festival season was explainable in itself for people like Harry and why they were stoked to be part of it. The perfect scene, the best timing. All the more reason for him to want to be here. You clearly saw festivals in two different lights, enjoyed them for similar reasons, and some different.
You didn’t even want to be there. You knew you weren’t going to enjoy yourself. Avicii had also recently passed away and well, you thought festival season may as well be fucked in the bin after such a great -great being an understatement- loss.
You’d been to another just a week prior and gotten into a bad argument, and to be honest, you still hadn’t gotten over it. It hurt different, because just days prior, you’d had a long and deep talk at the weekend. An intimate moment between you both in bed when you tried to speak to him, he’d watched the edge of your lips twitch down, trying to stay composed when the frustration was appearing in the format of tears.
It was the kind of conversation you needed to smooth all your insides, give you a peace of mind, hope even. Harry providing you with sentimental words, kisses of reassurance and what sounded like a sincere promise to change.
“I’m sorry. I am. I am. I promise.” He kissed your face repeatedly.
Having had the sweetest weekend away spent together, away from the boys, away from chaos. He’d been in the best mood all weekend, unbelievably grateful for the whole thing you’d paid and planned, it was just what he needed after such a havoc schedule.
He was all over you, it was like something was in the air. Maybe it was ‘cause few of his friends were going through breakups, he’d realised how lucky he had it finding someone like you, and how many of his friends didn’t like their partner as much as they’d thought.
He just wanted to sit in that hot tub all day with you, eat dinner every night on that bed with you in your matching hotel robes, sharing your thought when the match was on. You actually felt suffocated, you loved it. Lips never off your skin, limb always having to touch you, his smell overpowering your own. He always got close when other couples passed by, comparing them to you in every way, assuming all the guys were miserable because they didn’t have a Mrs like you. As loving, as caring, as selfless, as funny. As easygoing, as down to earth. As witty, as understanding. And most importantly, as stunning. As gorgeous. As beautiful inside and out. He voiced his gratitude for you just being you.
He had to have been coming down with something.
At night, you were discussing your plans for the future, how you’d start looking for a new place to live next month when your lease was up, how he let slip he wanted to get you a new car after landing your new job he was proud of you for, buy you that watch you wanted instead of waiting for your birthday. He wanted to get you everything, spoil you for being the best. The weekend was meant for him but he’d made it about you.
He’d even agreed with you when you said the place you’d stayed in would be a nice place to hold the likes of your engagement party some day, and he’d told you to give him a minute to get your ring sorted before you made that reservation. He was still looking for the biggest rock he could find for his girl. “No more,” he tried to get you to smile, stroking his thumb on your cheek as he woke up to yet another grumpy face. “This face isn’t worth it.”
Your mistake was that you cracked. You smiled, gullibly.
And now that had all been thrown in your face when you noticed how he refused to speak to you the following weekend. His boys laughed when you’d suddenly appeared next to him, ripping the sunglasses off his eyes, tossing them to the club floor.
He didn’t regret it, he’d returned the silent treatment to you the next day. You felt lied to but you had embarrassed him so he was angry.
He just didn’t understand you. His friend’s girls never had this conversation with them. Why couldn’t you be like them? Mind your own business? You had your hobbies, he had his.
You didn’t officially make up but you were talking by the end of the day. He hugged you and kissed your head but it was doing nothing for you now.
You knew where it was heading and you didn’t want it to go there, but all of this wasn’t fair, and you weren’t putting up with it.
It was exhausting, and he just couldn’t see that.
It's too tiring to explain. It's so tiring whenever you do the things you promised not to do again. I no longer have the energy to tell you how much it breaks me, i’m done.
You could remember being with the girls at the festival when you’d found Behz who immediately began complaining to you about Harry’s shitty behaviour.
When Harry drank — it was no secret he grew snappy at his friends, for some reason he became crabby and really irritable. It was just a known fact within the friend group to not be surprised when Harry became a cheeky fucker when he got hammered. It was no surprise, and it was never to be taken personally.
But he was being nasty again, throwing out insults and being rough, so you made your way over to tell him to reel it in, trying to save him from ruining your friends’ night, having never been cheeky with you –‘cause even his subconscious knew when plastered– he would never offend you.
And if he tried, even as to show off, he felt the wrath that had sobered him up before, you being the only one to shut him up and put in his place.
But when you seen him, you knew he wasn’t just drunk.
You could remember the night coming to an end and the field quickly emptying, people tired, people looking for the nest party destination.
It was easy to find him amongst your group of friends, flinging his arms around and standing anything but still, few laughing. Beforehand, he’d been so slow, so drowsy and free-lounging, and now he was almost animated.
The sight of it sickened your stomach. You didn’t feel strong walking over. It felt like walking on glass every time, feeling like you had to be really careful with how you dealt with him.
You really wished he was just drunk.
“Right, what are you doing?” You tried to sound like you were humoured, waiting for him to turn around for you to see the damage. You felt like a parent bracing themselves to put their toddler to bed.
He flung around, brows furrowed and lips frowned disgustingly when they settled on you. You first noticed the travesty of his eyes and the shape they were in, the size of his pupils were scary and his jaw – you took a step back. The pulse in his neck freaked you out of the most, seeing it beat viciously as he kept a straight face looking down at you. Face glowing with a slight sweat from the atmosphere, hair sticking a little to his head.
“Harry?”
He turned to blank you when you grabbed his shoulder tugged him around, shocked when his hand hit your arm to defensively smack it off. “Oh my — on my fucking life — don’t, y/n. Don’t even.”
“Harry?!” You quizzed, offended by his ignorance.
“WHAT?! What do you fucking want this time?!”
Your mouth fell open, and you felt like you shrunk.
You usually were sharp with replies, but he caught you off guard.
“WHAT?! What is it now?! What have I done this time?”
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” You looked at him baffled.
“YOU!” he pushed your shoulder, “y’fuckin’ . . mopey bitch, fucking hell!” He paused, “I have had a-a —THE BEST DAY— and you’re gonna ruin it for everyone when you end up cryin’ over fuckin’ what? I—” he retreated his words, “no. I’m not doing this man – nah, nah, nah. Fuck this, you and your . . mental state,” he waved his finger towards you. “Lux! Come on bro, get me out of here.”
You shot Callux a look to not dare come near him. You weren’t done with him yet.
You suddenly felt eyes on you, and remembered your friends were still all here. Feeling you your cheeks flame hot, you didn’t know if to look at them and try to awkwardly laugh it off in a clueless manner, or cry because he it was genuine.
Even his friends glanced at you to see if you were taking it as a joke or as an insult, and you didn’t know.
“Harry . . I . . come here,” you followed him, going for a gentle approach, you hoped for some privacy as you reached for him — but his other arm came crashing down on yours and elbowed it off, fighting you off.
“Y/N, FUCK OFF! Just fuck off, fucking mental case!” He pushed you, “fuckin’ suffocating me man! Mind your fucking business! Give it a rest! Why-why can’t you be like Sarah, fuckin’—” he compared you to all his friends’ girlfriends.
You were growing more and more embarrassed by the second at the idea of people thinking you let your boyfriend speak to you like this.
Screaming in your face.
“—NO! You don’t understand! You— y/n, tell them, tell them what you tell me,” he pulled you into him, those heavy blue eyes boring into yours as your chest collided with his.
You tried retreating your hand but his grip was unmeaningly firm and you didn’t like it, squirming to get away.
He didn’t like it, his face screwing up at your unusual response, “go,” he encouraged, but you fought to get your hand out without seeming like you were panicking in front of everyone, “go on, tell them, Hard Stuff—”
“Harry, what are you talking about?! Stop getting on like this?”
You could feel the embarrassment creeping up your face. There wasn’t many around, the field was almost stranded with few loose bodies hanging about but around 9 or 10 of your friends were stood nearby and a couple more just a short distance away, witnessing everything.
“Tell them—”
“HARRY!” you warned him not to get any closer to you, “don’t.”
He paused, observing your body language and its cautiousness around him. He partly glared. “Why . . why you looking at me like that?”
You were scared to look at him. He eyed you top to bottom, expression disgusted, but then humour twitched in his features, turning into a face that looked like it was trying to hold back a laugh from you.
And then he did start to laugh, sniggering, and you felt sick.
You could feel the shake in your hands, and he was laughing at you.
Fighting those scolding tears of frustration back, you moved him away from you, “your Mum would be really fucking proud of you right now. She’d love to see you like this,” you snapped, heart beating out of your chest. “Your Mum, your Dad, your s— fucking Josh! I’m sure he’d be delighted to see how good his big fucking brother is!” You threw your drink at the ground, splashing at his feet.
“My fucking brother?” He pointed to himself.
Bringing up family was always a wrong, wrong move, but you wanted to try and get your point across. By bringing up someone like Josh who he would do anything for, who he knew worshipped the ground he walked on and tried to set a good example for - maybe he’d realise how dumb he was and what change needed to happen.
Because you clearly weren’t enough. “Why, what would my brother think?” He raised his head at you challengingly. “Does he think I’m some freak or something? Wou—would he want me to change? The way you want me to change? You ever hear me telling you to change? When you’re the centre of attention around everyone? To fix yourself? When you’re a mess every other day?—” he jabbed his finger in your chest. “No, ‘cause I’m not a cunt—”
You slapped his hand off you, gobsmacked.
What did he just say?
You tried to keep your frown firm to stop it shaking as he continued calling the most selfish of sentences out to you, not giving you a chance to react. “Y/n! You’re actually not serious. Why are you surprised? You’ve known this since the day I met you? Don’t pull this fucking guilt-tripping shite. Am I – am I embarrassing you? You finally embarrassed of me? ‘Cause–‘cause I’m embarrassed of you. I— thank fuck the internet doesn’t know about you, I’d die of embarrassment.”
The smirk grew on his face mocked you.
You were beginning to crack. You could feel your shoulders dropping with dejection your eyes welling with tears you needed blinked away.
No. No, you can’t let him win. Come on, now.
You could have embarrassed him worse. Could have told secrets he begged never to get out because it was safe and secure in the privacy of your relationship, but you didn’t.
As if you’d ever do that to him.
But oh . . how you so badly wanted to humble him and call out his ‘bodily malfunctions’ he was already having that were causing issues in . . factors of your relationship. What would he say then, huh?
Unable to form a witty response, you shook your head, ashamed. “Harry, fuck off.”
He turned his face up at you and grabbed your arm.
And you lost it.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING RIGHT NOW?! Like what are you actually saying to me?! Actually look at yourself! Are you fucking happy with yourself?! I am embarrassed for you! I’m going home!” You pushed him away.
“YOU’RE EMBARRASSED? I’m embarrassed more! You fuckin’ paranoid bitch,” he pushed you back, stunning you to your toes, “—getting so worked up over nothing, y/n, NOTHIN’. It’s actually exhausting, it’s embarrassing. Grow up. Everyone does it, it’s not a big deal. I can’t ever enjoy myself without you always needing to be there, breathing down my fucking neck!” Your lip almost quivered. “Fuckin’ stupid girl.”
He mirrored your face, spit landing on your chin as he shouted down at you. “You’re fucking obsessed man, controlling. Is it any wonder you can’t keep a friend of your own. Can’t get your own. You have to have all mine. If I want ket, I’ll fucking do it? What’s it to you? ‘Cause it makes you look bad? Who are you anyway? Just piss off, out my life! For a day! Fucking hell! You’re not worth my fucking bag.”
“I’m not worth the bag?”
Your voice betrayed you in the end.
You couldn’t quite believe you were being out in the same equivalence as a bag.
“You’re not even worth a fucking line, mate.”
“—OI!” He was cut off by another friend scruffing him.
You were walking away, done with it, done with him. You were only allowing yourself to be disrespected, with swears spat repeatedly in your face. You walked away to try and stop him from anymore abuse he was hauling at you.
But he continued, calling out to you, “—a fucking try-hard. You have this need to impress everybody, it makes you look like the biggest fuckin’ . . . slut for attention. You can’t be like everyone else’s bird and just sit there! You have to open your mouth all the fuckin’ time—”
You flinched at his flailing arms and vicious eyes. Harry didn’t like how everyone was taking your side. He didn’t care if they were telling him to give it a rest, he didn’t care if he had to lie.
He wanted to hurt you the way you hurt him. “—mate, let her go on! Let her go on! I don’t need her! She’s fuckin’ . . superstitious, puts my head away! She’s a joke! She’s a joke! Go find someone to fuckin’ bitch to, shag who you want! I don’t want your fucking kids anyway! LAD! She’s the reason - she’s the reason I fucking take them!” he made the joke. “I’d need to!”
You turned around at that. Jaw dropped.
No! There was no way he said that!
Just when you thought he’d already cut deep, he wounded you hard.
There was no way.
Your mouth hung open.
“It’s not like it affects her! It’s my fuckin’ . . joy,” he rambled. “Let her go on! I don’t care! I don’t care! I’m not giving it up! I ain’t giving shit up! I—I am happy with myself, fucking ecstatic mate. I’d do it all the time. I’d–I’d do it on my wedding day. She ain’t worth a bag. She ain’t worth £80,” his cocky voice faded as you slipped out behind the barricade bars. “Rather wake up to a line in the morning than her—”
You picked up your pace, escaping him.
No, no, no.
No, I can’t.
She’s the reason?! That was the lowest of lows. That wasn’t even in the equation.
How dare he come off with that?
How dare he.
That one throbbed.
Doesn’t want your fucking kids? Fuck him, how spiteful did you need to be to say that?
Not worth £80? That was degrading.
That one hurt because that’s how things began to feel. You were no better than a line to sniff, not as desired.
The muscles on your face ached with the strength in your frown from trying to hold back those tears. Your arm hurt too, from when he ripped your grasp from him.
You were done.
You were a fool to not make this the last straw; you were soooo done.
No one was speaking to you like that. No one was treating you like that.
“Ay! Yo, Y/n! Where you goin’?”
A familiar voice caught you, their body rushing up from the steps with a drink of lemonade in their hand. “You okay?” Tobi placed a hand on your arm. “You want me to get Harry for you?”
“No, I’m done, Tobi,” you said weakly, shaking your head, not even looking at him as you’d become so disassociated in yourself. “I’m – I’m finished. It’s finished.”
“Wha— what you on about? C’mere!”
He pulled you aside to try and stop you in your current state, thinking it was a heat of the moment type of thing with the mix of alcohol you’d been drinking tonight. You were terribly shaken up. But the second you looked at him with those eyes, with tears staining your cheeks, he knew you meant it in whatever circumstances.
You were shaken up over something. Traumatized. You were done. “With what? With . . with Harry?”
“Done, Tobi, finished. I’m going home.”
“Y/n, please. Do you wan—”
“Tobi, I need to go. Please. I need to get a taxi,” you tried to be polite.
“Are you sure? You don’t want to wait—”
“No Tobi, please. Please, I just need to go. Thank you but I don’t feel well and I need out of here.” You could barely talk and it broke his heart. Coming up with something to get out of here and he sensed that.
He watched you, the hurt on your face and pain in your voice having him consciously touch his chest.“Okay. Okay, text me when you get home. Here, I’ll get you a taxi—”
He sat with you on the steps and organised your ride home, having you lean on his shoulder as the tears fell from your eyes. He didn’t ask you anything, just kept an arm around you.
You couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.
Josh, Simon and Talia reunited with him again after he’d walked you to the car and got the right one safely, hugging you like he knew it’d be the last one for a while. “Yo, guys. I don’t . . I don’t know, but . . Y/n just said she’s done.”
“Done?”
“Done?”
“With what?” Zerkaa asked, sipping on a straw.
“Like . . with Harry, I’m guessing.”
“They fought?” Simon guessed.
“No like . . I think they– I think they’ve broken up.” He spoke the dreaded words.
Talia’s hand covered her mouth as her eyes automatically glossed over. “No.” There was no way. “No, no, no,” something bad must have happened. How bad? She felt her heart drop, wanting nothing more than to see you in that second, to meet you at your place and hold you up like you did with her. She tried to call you but Simon reassured she wait ‘til tomorrow incase it was something that had just triggered with the consumption of alcohol tonight. Let it blow over.
The night was a blur. Josh and Tobi sped off to find the unhinged youngster of their group that was Harry whilst everyone went home, the night being a crazy one and knowing everyone could do with a good nights sleep to refresh themselves. Forget about it all.
Unknowingly, there had been pictures taken of you by folk who recognised you two online, bad quality, zoomed up pics of you clearly arguing in the field that would later appear online - nothing too insane to take the internet by storm but there for Twitter accounts to feast on and bring up whenever they could. Your face was clearly a mix of sadness and frustration and the small mixture contained ones of an evidently pissed off Harry, talking with his finger in your face or gripping you in his drunken state. They took off on online, but you had just about 4 apps left on your phone after deleting everything, already starting your splitting progress, because he was fucking everywhere.
Facing him after it was worse, and your breakup would be something to take weeks to officially begin.
When it was all over and everyone was home, Harry had called you to tell you to meet at the apartment to sort things out and give you the apology you deserved. He knew he had been the worst company that night and wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around you and beg for your forgiveness, kiss you to free him from the guilt and get the scolding he deserved until he felt more than ashamed. He was ready to grovel for weeks. Months. He was going to buy you a car, buy you a dog - something big to show his guilt and regret. He meant it when he claimed he would never, ever get in such a state again. He’d give anything.
But you didn’t even listen out for an apology. You didn’t expect one. You didn’t want one. You walked into the apartment and into your room where you began the process of parting.
You honestly believed he was still drunk or too hungover to deal with and take it in because he refused to accept the reality. That was the issue.
Calfreezy, obviously living with you both these past four years, felt like he’d witnessed the ins and outs of it, hearing your conversations through the wall. He knew that Harry wouldn’t understand that it was really happening as well and would take forever to finally hit him, underestimating the situation, waiting for it to blow over.
But Harry wouldn’t let you leave.
You sat on the bed for hours, crying and explaining to him, “we’re done. I’m not doing this with you, I’m serious! This is enough!”
And he would sit on the bed, hair a mess with almost a blank face whilst waving off your feelings: “Y/n . . no we’re not?”
He was sorry, and you believed he was. But you weren’t staying with him.
He thought it was ridiculous. Until you had screamed and packed whatever you could to herd back to your friend’s London apartment (who had also just recently broke up with her boyfriend) he had first witnessed how adamant you were, how serious it was. You were crying in distress for him to leave you alone and let you get your things when he finally saw the stress of it all, and it began to hurt him.
Maybe you did need some time apart, but not an actual break up. Even when you’d got your things packed and headed for the front door, he would rub your back and mumble, “. . yeah but we’re not really broken up,” and it would rile you up all over again.
“You don’t respect me! No! We are!” You’d say with your hands on your head. “Stop being difficult and leave me alone!”
“Y/n, you . . you can’t.”
He knew you’d be back, you still had stuff everywhere, but even whilst you were out of the house, he’d text you like you weren’t in the middle of a fight. Some days he took the gentle approach, some days he got fed up with your ‘stubbornness’.
Want me to pick you up and we’ll go for something to eat?
We still going to my mums? On the 23rd?
You ready to come and talk to me?
Y/N, grow uupppp, come on now.
It didn’t help his case. If anything — it made you see how ignorant he could be. What didn’t he understand?
I’m sorry, what more do you want me to do?
I’ll change, I’m going to change, i’ll stop now, I told you.
What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do here? Will you come talk to me?
I’ll do what you want, hurry up y/n
You just wanted him gone. You were struggling to accept the circumstances and start your process of healing and Harry was just making it worse by not accepting it. How could you try and forget him when he was constantly in your face?
You blocked his number on everything so his texts couldn’t reach you, with friends, girlfriends - you cut contact with them all. Abandoning social media was the best move. You didn’t want anyone filling him on your whereabouts and you didn’t want to know his.
The last time you’d seen him was when Freezy let you back to the apartment to gather every last thing of your belongings for real this time, taking your time as Harry had been out doing something productive. He’d caught you when you were tidying your things, and that was the last time you decided you’d speak to him.
You had sobbed like you’d never sobbed before. It was still as rough. Asking him what he didn’t understand and why he had to make the process a hundred times more difficult. You wanted to do this gently even if he hadn’t always been gentle with you.
You stood in the room whilst he sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, listening to your words but at the same time — still not taking them in; not allowing this to happen. He kept promising change, but how many times had you heard that? If he wanted to change, you’d applaud him for it, but you wouldn’t be around to see it.
And he hated you for that.
“Harry, please. Please, listen to me. You can’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t ask me what i’m doing, don’t ask where I am, don’t ask friends — please. I’m going home. I’m minding my own business now.”
“I didn’t say that!!”
“You did! I’m going home!”
“—this is our home!”
“No! No it’s not, I can’t stay in London anymore, I can’t be here with you, I need to go. I need you to let me go. I’m begging you. You need to leave me alone,” you’d pleaded, tears running down your face. Your hands prayed as you begged him to listen, to respect your wishes and for once and let you do this. “Please, Harry. I’m tired. I’m tired of all this, I’m not doing it anymore. I don’t deserve it. You’re only fooling yourself by saying you’ll change – you won’t, Harry. You’re not gonna do that,” you shook your head. “I can’t help you anymore. I can’t be with you for this part of your life, I’m not putting up with it. You do whatever you need to do, do what you want now. Do what makes you happy! I won’t tell you what to do anymore, we’re finished. I won’t care.”
You didn’t even say it meanly, but in the nicest most sincere way possible.
But he still responded frustratedly.
“So, we’re done? Through and through, right enough? That’s us over? You’re done with me? You’re letting this happen?”
Those heartbroken eyes starred up at you, heavy, ridden with guilt and fear.
“YOU let this happen! You did it yourself!”
“There’s nothing wrong with me!” He
“You don’t even remember what you said to me that night, Harry!” You pushed his arm away.
He was getting angry again. “Y/N! I would never say—”
“BUT YOU DID, HARRY! But you already did!” You cut him off, “and you said what you said!”
“Y/n — I was off my frickin’ head! I didn’t mean a fucking thing — what do — come here, ba—”
“NO!” you pushed his arm away, “DON’T do that.”
You weren’t going to go crying in his arms when he was the one who had caused those tears. You weren’t falling for that.
“So you’re not staying with me anymore?” He squinted his eyes irritably.
“I’m not yours anymore.”
“You’re always mine,” he grabbed your arm, and calmly you pulled it off, and told him to sit down.
The room stayed silent for a while, your resumed packing and something finally clicked in Harry as he sat on the bed. You then felt bad, freaking out and making him feel weird.
After all, it was the same boy you’d laughed everyday with since he was 17.
You just needed to get your things and go and drop thinning through everything. Your head was pounding, maybe from just the sound of your own voice.
You walked over to him and held his head to your stomach after, your heartbeat relaxing as you held him close to you. “I don’t hate you Harry. I don’t want you to think this is me giving up on you. I love you with my whole being and more. I love you,” you couldn’t express more, laying your chin on top as his arms clung tightly around your waist. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much, I’m always gonna, you know this!” The tears didn’t continued streaming down your face as his hair tickled your cheek. “I want you to he happy. I want you to be happy and do whatever you need to do, with whoever you want. Surround yourself with good company and let the boys take care of you. Please. Take care of yourself, Harry. But enough with the stupid shit, I know it’s your life and your youth but it’s not for me. I can’t do it. I’m scared,” you held him, feeling a dampness on your shirt where his head lay.
“Y/n, I need you, I need you here. You make me happy, you need to be here with me, in London, who— who else do you have? Who do I have? Y/n, you can’t do this, you’re mine—”
“Harry I don’t deserve this,” you cut him off before you could go round in another loop, “I didn’t deserve that.”
His heart sunk.
And finally, finally, it clicked with him.
You didn’t. You didn’t deserve that.
He did this to himself. He did this on his own. He deserved this.
By the end of the night with Harry’s pleads, apologises and deathly grip to not go, he eventually helped wheel your cases to the lift, his lips on the back of your head, kissing your hair repeatedly as you waited for it to come get you.
The tears didn’t stop flowing as he kissed your head, his arm wrapped around your front as he held you strongly into him for a last time, the intensity from your headaches enough to create an energy. His head throbbed too. “You know I’ll always take care of you?”
And there they were. The golden words.
If your heart wasn’t already broke to pieces and bleeding, it was smashed to smithereens now. Crushed to a smoke. Your eyes felt like glass, ready to break with the next blink.
I’ll always take care of you.
You were teens again, dancing in the fancy club in London, recently moved in an apartment with Harry and Freezy, your boyfriend and his closest mate, Callux too if he wasn’t staying at his girlfriend’s. You’d only turned 18, all up on each other, dancing in the club, flushed cheeks and messy hair. It had been the most heart-warming, sentimental night as a young couple.
You’d earned the approval of all his new friends and fit in better than expected, ready to make London your home. You’d both spent the night stuck to each other, watching the night unfold and growing grateful for this new chapter you were both about to take. Each other’s favourite company that night.
You were so happy for Harry.
You were so, unbelievably proud of him.
The fact alone that he had moved out so young and was renting an apartment in central London — you were one hell of a proud girlfriend.
You were excited for this next part of your life, living together and learning to cooperate with your different career paths - he was owning YouTube right now, joining The Sidemen and you were freshly enrolled in your class at Uni and on your way to catching your degree.
But oh Harry . . you have no idea how much you mean to me. How proud you should be of yourself. How proud you make me. How happy you make me. You were excited to see how far he would go. The look of pride consumed you the whole night, drunk on love, falling even more if it was possible as he as you watched him in his tipsy state.
You were pressed against him on the dance floor, his body protectively by yours and his head behind your own. He was in his own little world, a million things running through his head. You were too engrossed in the atmosphere around you and what others were doing to notice the cogs turning in his head.
“You know I’ll always take care of you?”
You’d inquisitively turned around to see what he meant, wondering if you’d heard the words right as he mumbled into your head. He’d piped up out of the blue. You put your arms behind his neck and looked up at him amused. What soppy shit was he saying now? “Huh?”
“I’m always going to look after you.” He looked at you with nothing but pure infatuation and love, a soppy smile on his lips. “Like, if you’re ever stuck . . you know . . you can come to me. Like, even if we break up, I’ll never see you struggle, Y/n. You’ll always have me.”
You looked at him with the most loving gaze, feeling like your eyes could blink tears as his words hugged your heart; made you feel warm all over. “Harry . .”
“No, I mean it,” he was only a teenager, but he’d mean what he said for the rest of his life. “If we ever break up and it’s really bad and all . . like on the worst of terms and everything — I- I will look after you. Even if you hate me, I will have you. Just you. I want you to come to me,” he embarrassingly laughed, not taking his eyes from you. “I’ll always take care of you. You—” Quick! This was too serious! “—you own my money.”
“HARRY!”
Those words always made an appearance when it got to the end of the night and your boyfriend was feeling as soppy as ever, drunk on love. Always. He always said it.
In the wildest states ‘til the point he couldn’t remember, you’d get a taxi home and with his head on your shoulder, hand on your leg, almost 23-years-old he’d still breathe out: “you know I’ll always take care of you?”
You pulled your cases, waiting for the lift.
His eyes were red, cheeks flushed and he kept using his sleeve to wipe them. “I love you, you know. Always,” he’d tried to clear his throat, not meaning to start something . . . but it just lit something in you again.
No.
No he didn’t.
“No,” you accused, “you don’t mean that. You don’t get to say that. If you loved me, you wouldn’t hurt me the way you did. You wouldn’t have said what you did and you wouldn’t have done what you’ve done almost these last 5 years. You’re selfish. You don’t take my feelings into consideration when you do that to yourself. You think I care ‘cause it makes me look bad — no. I care because if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to cope without you. I’d feel responsible for not trying harder. I’d carry that burden, but you’re fine with running that risk. You’re fine with putting me through that. So no, you don’t love me. You don’t respect me. I shouldn’t feel so afraid checking up on you after a certain time on nights out, to feel like I’m walking on egg shells because God forbid I’m worried about you overdosing on fucking Ketamine. Sorry I’m not like your mates’ girlfriends who sit with their mouths closed. Sorry I get the need to speak out and voice my concern because I care, because I’d die before I’d let anything happen to you. I don’t deserve to make myself sick with anxiety over something you don’t give a shit about, something you tell me is normal - it’s belittling. You don’t give a shit about me if you’re doing that to yourself,” you sniffed. “So don’t come near me, don’t try to worm your way back after a few weeks. If you ever had respect for me and valued me more than a bag of coke, a bag of £80 . . you’ll listen to me and leave me alone. Leave me be so I can have a normal life, ‘cause I don’t bring anything your life anyway.”
You left an apartment block full of memories and stories, your home for the last four years for one that still had that fresh paint smell.
Your friend, Zoë, had also just split with her man and therefore, never really needed to use her apartment until now. You hit her up when you made that realisation, and you bonded rapidly, old friends picking up just where they left off, and she suggested you go halfs on rent and be each other’s emotional support system for however long it took. It was only for a while until you went back to Guernsey to get your broken heart nursed by your family.
You’d dreaded the thought of going to Guernsey.
It was just him.
Plus, the whole process of having to settle back there and explain to all your friends and family was a whole different story. It made it feel all the more real.
It was extremely odd flying over by yourself and you’d cried the whole flight over.
You wanted to get your things from his childhood house also, before he told his family and you felt too awkward to get them. You remembered pulling, planning on going in and just grabbing your things when you saw his Mum greet you at the front door with a wide smile and ecstatic wave at the surprise visit.
You burst into tears two steps out of the car, and the quick visit turned into a sob session with a cup of tea at the kitchen table.
You didn’t giveaway the main reason of your breakup, knowing there were some things best kept below the radar, so you’d sugarcoated it to his mother who had adored you since day 1. You’d assured her Harry hadn’t cheated on you or hurt you in any way like that, but really that you just needed a break from each other as recent events seemed to be causing an intense amount of strain on your relationship. You told her how it just wasn’t the same and that a small break was the best thing.
And that you still and always would love her son, no matter what.
Harry had texted you about it days later and it was the only message you’d unblocked him for to answer:
Did you tell my mum?
No
And that was that.
Your life was hell from then on. A real shit show once the realisation finally set in. You realised how shit it was.
Everything reminded you of him. Your own belongings had him in them, things that had nothing to do with him — he ruined everything. You couldn’t even listen to your favourite songs, watch tv shows or go on fucking youtube! You couldn’t even listen to the most upbeat, pumping songs without wanting to snap your phone in half because since when did they become so personal? When did Seek Bromance sound so romantic?
You were miserable. You were miserable, but you knew it was for the best.
You questioned everything. You questioned yourself most, questioning Harry’s words and how accurate they were.
Who were you, really? Why didn’t you have friends of your own? You were a nobody without him. Who even were you?
It would take some adjustment to get into this new routine, after all, he had preoccupied it all the previous years, but you’d try. You had a lot to figure out, and a lot of getting used to.
It was a lot, and it was hard. Moving back in with your parents; learning to be by yourself after being with someone during your formative years; accepting the loss of friends who didn’t have the motive to keep a friendship alive; being independent when you thought you already were; and dealing with hate online. It felt like everything piled on top of the other.
Your family loved you and you were all so tightly-knitted — but they claimed that you’d given them mental issues.
Jeez, did they hate having you back home. It wasn’t how it used to be.
You put the whole house in a bad mood. Everything was grumpy with you. They were walking on egg shells. You were just too sensitive; you took everything the wrong way. You picked a fight with everyone.
You hated the house. It didn’t feel like your house. Your room didn’t feel like your room. The whole thing was suffocating.
And then the self-doubt kicked in, the what ifs, the who now?
Who was going to love you like he did?
Who would love you as much?
Who would have you like he did?
You wouldn’t. It was stupid thinking like that and you knew everyone had that silly moment, but you know deep down no one. No one would be that. No one would be him.
And you’d cry, and cry, and cry again.
You could vividly remember probably one of the worst arguments you’d had with your mum at the top of the stairs, screaming to her at the bottom about how you didn’t know what you were supposed to do with your life, and how she needed to stop overlooking your feelings.
“YOU’RE GOING THROUGH A BREAK UP, NOT A FUCKING DIVORCE!!”
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE FOR ME!!!”
“YOU’RE NOT EVEN FUCKING 22 YEARS OLD! YOUR LIFE HAS JUST STARTED!!”
It was valid what she said, but you just felt like she didn’t understand.
Your mum always knew if the day came where Harry split from you, you’d go a little psycho. It was what happened when you got into relationships so young. She dreaded the day, but she didn’t think it would ever come.
Your house felt smaller and it was like everyone seemed to come off the wrong way, something it was never like when you would just visit. You knew your company was disliked, but where else were you supposed to go? They didn’t want you on your own, and you needed your Mum at those times of weakness when you were crying in your bed, “I want him back!”
You felt on lockdown. You’d want to go out a drive on your own most nights and your mum would hide your keys in fear you’d crash into a tree from balling your lamps out again, which only made you feel crazier. You didn’t want to go to certain places because there was a memory everywhere with him, and you didn’t have friends who lived there anymore. So you stayed in your room most of the day, ignoring your phone’s existence, scribbling drawings instead and ‘reading’ books . . as in, holding a book open in your hand whilst crying to the TV.
It felt like your old stuffed animals watched you at the bottom of the bed, from their shelves, wondering who on earth this was in their room and where on earth was the little girl who shared this room with them? The happy kid with a unique wittiness, bold voice and adamant nature. Where was the gentle hands that looked after them and the bright eyes that sparkled at them when she came home from school after not seeing them all day?
Where was the boy she always brought back to this room? Who replaced them in every way including the way she looked at them?
Who was this sad big waste of a human, crying nonstop? They weren’t used to your tears!
Trust me, you wanted to be that little girl again, too, before life became this . . big thing.
This big thing with choices, with consequences, influenced by your actions. Your silly, silly actions.
Oof, if only she could hear the things you’d gone through with that boy. The things you’d tell her! She wouldn’t believe it! Such nonsense! I’d never say that, she’d scoff, and I’d never do that!
And you’d sit across from your, nodding your head, tearfully, well, you did, we did! You’d be surprised the stuff we’ve put up with!
Your family did feel for you in parts. Your dad hated the thought of you choking up in your room and crying into your pillow, feeling alone and as useless as ever. He wanted to tell you you’d get over it one day, but that was easier said than done, and he didn’t want to trigger you with stuff you’d already heard a thousand times already, no matter how true it was. Your sister didn’t like how quiet you were around the house; she wanted you to fight them and involve her in your process, as much as he loved him, she was glad she could replace his company like he’d replaced hers, and do all the fun things sisters can do together.
Your mum just wanted you to be happy, but she knew that was a process you’d have to do on your own, but she missed you, and quite frankly, you were depressing her and the rest of the house.
You did most things by yourself. The only thing you didn’t get angry towards was the dog, so you went a lot of walks with the Terrier. Eventually, you became quieter, finding it was the best option, because when you spoke, you only argued with everybody, and they annoyed you because you were never in the mood to socialise. You couldn’t explain what you wanted to say, and that was your problem, not theirs. So most of the time, you stayed in bed, rewatching one of your favourite movies on loop, The Parent Trap.
You’d managed to transfer jobs back to Guernsey so you didn’t need to be in London as there was no reason for you to be there anymore, and thank god, because that whole city screamed him.
Harry was still waiting for you to text that you were ready to talk still months after. It took about 5 months of dead contact for him it to finally sink in and let him see that this was the first of forever: his new everyday life.
It made him sick. Riddled him with anxiety.
The first month or two he spent getting stoned every night in his room. Freezy was sick at the sight (and smell). Just became emotionless to block out everything. But he had nothing better to do. He didn’t want to go out yet and he wasn’t ready for his friends to big him up and tell him he didn’t need you and that he could have anyone — it put him in a mad mood and then he’d be fighting with them.
So he stayed at home, edited a lot, and then grew bored and would watch the city at night, watching cars drive past and people wander the streets, wondering where you were and what you were doing right now.
He seemed alright with his boys and his video performance didn’t falter when he was shouting something, dependent on weed for some time off camera though. Easy drugs. He wanted to stay in his room all the time but it seemed like he always had work to do.
He just wanted to rot. Coming home each day and still being surprised by the lack of life in it was getting old; you should have been there sitting on the floor, organising your makeup bag or something.
When he did get sick of isolation, he went out until it was hard to keep him in. He used to drink before but when he drank now it was to fucking fuel him. He didn’t get drunk no more, he blacked out. Never remembered a thing. And then went on to do stuff he didn’t know the name of.
The lads didn’t know how to take Harry because he genuinely seemed okay, his usual, crazy youngster self, but on nights out, they were regularly forcing him to bed, no matter how funny he was being. They knew he was going through a breakup and they could only do so much when he let them, they’d all been in that boat before and understood his lack of wanting to open up. He still laughed and cracked jokes but they still felt like it was part of a front; he was in denial. They wouldn’t know, he didn’t tell them anything.
So he drank heavily on weekends and was stoned most nights in the weekday. It was the way he coped. Too disgusted in himself to deal it. The guilt uncomfortable to live with of ruining something good - the best thing he’d probably ever have in his life.
But when festival season rolled around and he was free to do as he pleased, he realised . . maybe life isn’t all that bad. He was back on track, baby, ready to let loose.
After all, you weren’t around to get hurt, and he didn’t care what anybody else thought of him.
You’d both been at the same one, Tomorrowland. Opposite sides of the crowd, between thousands of people, oblivious. You could remember the opening to song This is what it feels like, feeling like your old self for the first time in a long time — and at a festival! It was overwhelmingly freeing. You didn’t know how you got yourself there, but you were proud.
Harry wasn’t even on anything but he could remember feeling disassociated as he starred out at the stage, experiencing nothing like it. He’d done many drugs in his time but nothing left him feeling like this. Not real. Paranoid. It felt like he was a million miles out from where he actually was. He’d gotten so light-headed, he thought maybe he should go get something to stop him getting too in his head. He felt like he shouldn’t have been here. It had been almost a year, not that he was counting, but it felt weird when he compared the last time he was in this setting. You popped into his head as the song played. You still popped into his head the odd time, at the worst times especially.
Just when he thought he was long over you, you showed up in his dreams. He could swear he could hear your voice in the morning, smell your sweet scent before he opened his eyes, and when he did, it all came back, worse than the harshest slap to the face.
Maybe it was the lyrics. Maybe it was the deja-vu feeling. But he was with his friends this time, he had another girlfriend now, he knew he should feel like his normal self.
Although, he knew he would never fully be back to his old self.
He didn’t mean to get back with her, it was completely unplanned with no motive. It just seemed to fall into place. They were together a year before you came along, a firsts kind of relationship -which always made you feel inferior because you knew boys had a forever thing with the first girl they got with- but Harry convinced you otherwise.
He used to scoff and tut when you accused him of having a forever attachment to the girl, ranting that she may have been his first, but you were the first he actually enjoyed sex with; the first he got to experiment with and have that soul connection to. His first grown-up relationship. You were his real first.
She popped up during a time he felt like he could use a friend, and in the beginning, it had been that way! But then talking and grabbing lunch gave Harry the chance to pour his feelings and release the passionate emotions he’d had bottled up to spark an old flame up again. It was just nice. Nice to have someone again and someone he knew. Someone who knew him and knew how to look after him.
Because it was true what they said at least applicable to him: boys don’t fall in love twice, they just settle.
He was attempting to settle.
You ghosted your usual Instagram to avoid unfollowing hundreds of people and deleting hundreds of old photos which would have only stirred up a commotion on the internet and draw even more attention, so you created a private one instead. You didn’t even have a profile pic or photos to upload — it was strictly a secret account to keep up with friends and whatever celebs you wanted so you didn’t miss out.
However, social media was somehow how you’d seen Harry back in a relationship with his ex.
You couldn’t get over the pics. They were blurry and grainy, taken by fans, but you knew it was him. Him and her.
You felt a rollercoaster of emotions at the realisation, but despite all the anger and frustration and betrayal; you meant what you said. You wanted Harry to be happy.
Maybe she was the one who could get his life on track and steer for the better - could fix him. Change him for the better. The torch had been passed onto her.
You were devastated at the knowledge and it had been a real kick to the gut in a long time, but it gave you the full realisation that you might never get back with Harry Lewis after all.
But all that sadness dishevelled — vanished into thin air and triggered a ground-shaking anger beneath the sadness when you set foot back in London and in the same club as said boy.
You’d been in London for a few months, dipping your feet back into the city and moving back into the apartment with Zoë after both of you got your shit together after your break ups. You’d been out more than in now, during the days to shop and dine and at night, drink and party. Both times being ones you had bumped into few members of the Sidemen.
You’d seen Vik in town one day who could only wave eagerly and give a thumbs up as he was in a rush to get by, but it was warming to you to say the least. You’d bumped into Zerkaa then on a night out, seeing him at a bar and when he noticed you (you never knew if to approach them or not as they were Harry’s friends all and all and you didn’t want to make them feel awkward or put them in a uncomfortable position to acknowledge you, so you let them make the first move). You could remember sitting at your table, looking around when he’d turned the same time and his eyebrows raised in surprise to see you in so long. He stepped aside from whoever he was speaking to, straw in his mouth as he waved you over whilst making an approach. You met him halfway and he put an arm around you, hugging you with his glass in his hand and began conversation. He asked how you were and how you were getting on and what you were doing in London. You told him everything about being both in Guerney and London and how you were getting on with your old friend, Zoë. He mentioned nothing of Harry which you had been glad for and he proceeded telling you what he’d been up to himself, hardly mentioning the boys (just covering that they were all doing good enough) and plans you’d been in on beforehand. You didn’t keep him too long, but you hugged Josh and wished him well, glad you got to hear from him and wished him the best. He told the same, and told you to look after yourself and do what you were doing, and that was all. He never told Harry, and that was more the reason you adored Josh.
Then you’d spotted Behz.
Behz was the brother you never had – the sibling he never had. Being Harry’s best friend, he had this unofficial pass to annoy and wind you up the most. He was the one you were in competition with when you were with your boyfriend, holding that Best Friend vs Girlfriend dynamic, but you really loved Ethan. You loved how comfortable you were with one another, you weren’t afraid to argue with him but you could come to each other about anything.
However, seeing Ethan amongst the crowd triggered you. You knew if he was here, he would be here.
You were lucky you hadn’t came across any other of the Sidemen boys, but you kept an ear out for the familiar voices, thinking if it was best to not chance it and go somewhere else with Zoë and the clan.
You’d pitched the idea to the girls and they agreed, not feeling the expensive club anyway and while you began to make a move — there he was.
You were stomping over to the door, guiding Zoë by her hand when you turned around to look for the others when you realised who was just a step behind you. The place was crowded but in the moment you were heading for the door, you turned your head and made hard eye-contact with Harry to your left, an unexplainable anger building in your eyes as you accidentally looked at him. Your hands shoved the heavy doors open as he sort of stilled, not wanting to get close to you. It was only for a few seconds, but you’d seen him for the first time in over a year, and undoubtedly you betted his other half had been trailing behind him, holding his hand.
And you were livid.
You wanted him to be happy, you knew deep down you did, but as you went home that night, you were the angriest you’d ever been as you thought about him and what he did to you.
How he practically picked drugs over you, humiliated you, disrespected and degraded you to nothing, and then continued to live his life as if nothing was wrong.
If he did change, it wasn’t for you. You clearly weren’t enough.
That irritated you, because look at all what you’d done for him over the years.
There was so much more that bubbled within and you could just remember being so angry.
Your breakup had been hard because nothing but sadness consumed you with the fact it was coming to and end, but this seething anger within you made unleashed something when you’d realise how it had been ruined, and suddenly your mindset changed. From please, Harry to FUCK. HARRY.
That seemed to get you over the last hurdle. You replaced all that sadness with anger and jumped on over it. You could do it. You did do it. You were free.
You had the right mindset: he didn’t need you and you most certainly didn’t need him.
It helped you get over him but that didn’t mean you forgot about your entire relationship, your history. You still remembered little things, the things he did for you, the things he said, the jokes he made, the posts he published – how he had been a good boyfriend. Your first proper boyfriend. First long-term relationship. First love. Your moments of weakness were the moment you felt lonely, and although your Mum would assure you it was the company you missed rather than his company specifically - you knew she wasn’t right.
You could have been surrounded by hundreds people, could be laughing with your family or enjoying a night out with friends — but it was like when your best friend didn’t show up to an event, and although you’d had a good time, theirs would have made it better.
There no better company than them.
Even if it meant they got to sit on your sofa and communicate with you through a look, it made the moment more memorable.
You did find yourself thinking of him every once in a while, whether it was over a certain smell or a joke someone would make or word someone would mention, he would just quickly pop into your head. It was a natural response you couldn’t be blamed for - it was natural to miss someone. It was natural to make those links.
Talking about your relationship was a bit touchy because it was simply sad for you to reflect on. It was rare for you to be able to casually bring up a past memory and laugh over with, but you would get there.
Life was getting normal.
Quiet, but becoming your new normal.
You played your part in the single life, ‘getting back out there’ but the lifestyle wasn’t for you. It felt unnatural. Fun, but not you. You wanted what you once had, that dynamic with someone.
You’d gone out on dates and met new people but you weren’t in a hurry for anything: if it happened, it happened. You were in no rush. You were content learning to be on your own. It was tough in the beginning but it wasn’t so bad. You adjusted to it pretty well. Sure, it had only taken over a year but you felt like you were finally the girl you’d yearned to be.
It could be boring at times but there was no more sadness, no questioning. You’d blocked that bit out well. Now, it was just acceptance.
Contentment.
You found a new beauty to London, exploring it in a new light as you wondered it on your own, favouriting shops and loving solo walks to different parks. You worked it into your routine as you felt like it was good for the mind.
Good for the soul.
You’d accepted this as your new normal, and you were happy with it. Harry was no longer your problem. If he wasn’t willing to change for himself then he wasn’t going to change for you, and you needed to accept that and get on with life, with or without him. You would miss those simple days of him driving you both about in London in the early days of just moving there, adventuring and figuring out what places where best for shopping or eating out for a date night, making it your own — but you had all that to look forward to with someone else, now. All the firsts.
Got to do it all over with someone who wasn’t going to hurt you in the long run.
The first kiss.
The first date.
First sleepover.
First time meeting the fam.
First time making them a cup of tea.
First time arguing with them over their horrific driving.
First time having to break up a fight between them and your little sister.
First time telling them off for screaming and throwing a chair at their video game.
You loved Harry and you always would, he would be a hard person for future competitors to compete with, but like you’d said before, you always had an attachment to your first and that was okay.
What mattered most was who would be your last.
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ughgoaway · 8 months
Text
I need you like a heartbeat
content warnings: mentions of sex... that's kinda it the rest is just very soppy lovey-dovey stuff!! word count- 1.9k
a/n: hi!! so I kinda lied about doing under 1000 words but once I got going I couldn't stop lol. I did write this quick so if it's really bad don't tell me (please do I cannot cope not knowing). This was inspired by this request for some fluffy aftercare, thanks for the request!! this is my first time writing fluff so be gentle with me... I'm not good at being in love (haven't done it irl yet) so we'll see how it goes. also would just like to reiterate I am English but I did use braid instead of plait because I have beef with the spelling of plait, I think it's stupid so refuse to type it. also, I was gonna include a full skincare scene but alas I don't do any so had no idea what to write... anyway here you go!!
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Thump. Thump. Thump. All you can hear is your heartbeat in your head, the repetitive rhythm being the only thing keeping you grounded. Without it, you fear you would just float away. You fear your weightlessness would simply cause you to disappear from the earth as you know it.
Soon a pair of hands come up to wipe your tear-stained face, you instinctively lean into the touch despite not quite remembering who it is. “Baby? Darling, you with me?”
Matty.
The calloused hands delicately wiping your face belong to your boyfriend and his touch makes the fog in your mind begin to lift. As it always does when you're around him. 2 years in and still you've never met someone you feel so clear around. That may seem unusual to some people, they all say “isn't the love of your life meant to make you a bit hazy? Make your head swirl and your mind go blank?” But no, not to you. You've never felt anything but clear around him, just so completely yourself it almost hurts. There was never any fogginess in your mind, there was nothing but a clear choice. Him. It was as if there was a spotlight on him wherever you were, he was in plain sight. The first thing you saw no matter what.
Slowly your eyes blink open and you're met with the sight of your very naked boyfriend hovering over you giving you a warm smile, “there's my sweet girl” he says staring adoringly at you. The smile was quickly mirrored by you followed by a small giggle. Despite having seen him naked 1000 times, suddenly this time was very funny. 
“What are you giggling at, hmm?” Matty says, despite lightly giggling himself, he always found your laughter so contagious. Your joy always lit up every room you were in. The pure happiness that surrounded you was so contagious it couldn't help but rub off on him. So for the first time in his 34 years of life, Matty would describe himself as giddy, not just from your giddiness infecting him but from just you in general. The love he felt for you made him feel 15 again like he was crushing on a girl way out of his league. Becoming slowly obsessed with seeing her around school. But with you, that feeling never went away, that slight obsession was ever permanent. And he loved it. He was nothing but absolutely, unbelievably obsessed with you. And he told you as such, over and over again.
“You’re naked” you manage to splutter out in your fit of giggles, Matty felt his heart flutter at the sight of you. Naked also, tears of dark mascara staining your cheeks and dozens of hickeys and bites blooming on your body but also giggling with no care in the world.
“Hate to be the one to tell you this sweetheart, but you're naked too. Don't tell me you forgot about my amazing lovemaking skills so quickly” Matty says, acting offended at your forgetfulness. 
“One,” you begin, acting mock serious at the man on top of you “Never call it lovemaking again or it will start happening substantially less” Matty laughs at you and begins pressing small kisses over the expanse of your face. “Two” you try and list off your second point but soon get lost in another fit of giggles at the myriad of kisses being littered over your face.
“I'll never get my second point out if you keep kissing me” you manage to stutter out, trying to speak but being accosted with pecks. 
“Fine, fine, sorry baby- go on,” Matty says leaning back slightly and looking back at you fondly, loving how you can go from moaning his name and crying from pleasure to giggling at your naked boyfriend.
“Thank you,” you fake clear your throat to assure your boyfriend this was a serious matter, “Two- I could never forget, I just suddenly found it funny you were naked.” You finish your statement and look up at your boyfriend. 
His hair was sweaty and sticking up in 50 directions, a pink flush decorated his cheeks and his pupils were blown so wide if you didn't know better, you'd think he had black iris’. He’d never looked more beautiful to you. Well, aside from the 50 other times you had assured yourself he never looked more beautiful.
You attempt to sit up to return the onslaught of kisses but you hiss as you're soon reminded of what you were just doing. Everything hurts, in the best way, of course, your arms feel like jelly and you can faintly feel his cum leaking out of you.
As quickly as you try to sit up you are ushered back down by Matty, “No, no don't get up sweetheart. I’m going to go get a warm cloth from the bathroom and clean you up a little yeah?”
You nod lightly, closing your eyes and resting on the silk pillowcases behind you. You are almost lulled back to sleep at the noises of your boyfriend moving around the room but a hiss soon left your mouth as Matty begins wiping you delicately.
The various marks on your thigh burn as Matty wipes your wetness off them, he apologises over and over. Only getting more insistent as he begins to wipe at your core. He starts at the top, lightly patting your clit and hushing your whimpers, hating he was hurting you. 
But soon the feeling of him cleaning stopped, you looked down only to catch your boyfriend staring longingly at the sight of his cum leaving you. For the third time tonight, giggles leave you as you stare at the blank expression on his face
“Oops sorry darling, got a bit distracted there but I'm back to business now I swear” Matty assures you before cautiously swiping at your hole and cleaning up the mess he made. The cloth was tossed aside as Matty worked his way back up your body to your face, smiling at your blissed-out look.
“You feel well enough to walk yet baby? We really need to get that makeup off and do your skincare. You’d kill me if I let you go one night without rubbing some oil or serum on your face.” 
You smile and nod at your boyfriend, preparing to walk only to be scooped up in his arms and carried into the bathroom. The cold tile of the vanity soon hit your bum causing another hiss to leave your bitten lips, red and puffy from the nights events. 
“What was the point in being able to walk if you were just gonna carry me huh handsome?” you say staring at your boyfriend while he grabs the makeup wipes and begins wiping your tear-stained cheeks. 
“Always gotta give you the princess treatment baby, just wanted to make sure if you had to walk you could. But I would never make my girl walk all the way to the bathroom! What kinda boyfriend would I be huh” he says jokingly. He's so intensely focused on finding your numerous skincare products he doesn't notice the massive smile that takes over your face. 
Matty has about 20 bottles in his hands, each one causing the confused frown on his face to grow. You stifle your laugh at his clear confusion and grab the various products from him and place them by the sink next to you. 
“Don't worry about all that tonight baby, just some moisturiser I think. I'm too knackered for much else” You notice Matty let out a relieved breath at your shortened routine, not quite sure what he would do if you wanted to do the full thing.
He grabs the small tub nestled between the mess of products on the counter and begins rubbing it in small circles on your cheeks and forehead. You almost catch your eyes closing at the feeling of him massaging your face but force yourself to keep them open to look longingly at your boyfriend's very focused face, tongue out and all.
“You wanna have a bath darling or should I just braid your hair and we call it a night?” Matty says, still rubbing your face despite all the moisturiser being applied. He just loved touching you, anyway he could. Not necessarily sexually, as much as he enjoyed that. But just loving small touches, a kiss on the cheek when he walked past, a hand on the small of your back when you stood together, even just your pinky fingers linked together as you spoke around a dinner table. Little affectionate touches kept Matty going and he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to touch your very pretty face.
“Just some braids would be amazing, thank you my love” You smile at your doting boyfriend as he nods and grabs the hairbrush, slowly bruising out the multitude of knots caused by him, he's sure.
His nimble fingers pass your hair between them, slowly braiding your now neatly brushed hair. Matty grabs a hair tie and secures both of your braids at the end. Finishing with a flourish and a kiss on your nose that made your face scrunch up in that adorable way he loved.
Silently Matty picks you up again, smiling at the roll of your eyes and a bashful grin that you give him whilst in his arms. He places you on the edge of your bed before going to the chest of drawers behind him to fetch you both some clothes. 
You hold in your giggles at your boyfriend's bare bum, assuming he wouldn't love another fit of laughter at his nakedness. 
He soon returns with 2 pairs of black calvins and your favourite one of his shirts, the peach Panasonic shirt he once wore all the time. But mysteriously he stopped, about 2 years ago.
The first night you'd slept together Matty lent you that shirt, he remembers watching you sleep so soundly that morning in the shirt he adored. He vowed there and then to never wear it again, not wanting to sully it with any other memory than the memory of you.
He slipped the shirt over your shoulders and the calvins up your legs, giving your bum a cheeky pat when you lifted your hips to get them on. He followed you up the mattress and settled on the pillows, facing you and staring fondly into your eyes.
Each time your eyes met you treated it like a staring contest, never wanting to be the first to look away. The pure adoration in the other's eyes always kept you looking, staring, not ever wanting to leave that moment.
Matty broke first this time, a small celebration happened in your mind as he pulled the duvet over the two of you. He swung his arm over your shoulder as you settled on his chest. He leant down to give you a gentle kiss on the crown of your head with a large smile on his face. 
“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, a smile evident in his voice.
Yours was slightly muffled by your head pressed into his chest but you returned his comment, “I love you too baby, thank you for making me feel good”
“Always” is the last thing Matty said, or the last thing you remember hearing before sleep took over you in the arms of the man you were sure was your soulmate.
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lemonhemlock · 3 months
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strange that people had the thought that sansa was gonna stay in the vale and not go back to winterfell for so long when geographically other than bran(beyond the wall having trippy visions)/jon("dead")/rickon (cannibal island skagos) sansa is way closer to winterfell than a lot of characters and the knights of the vale is pretty much a chekhov's gun especially since like you said they havent joined the war yet and somehow sansa marching to winter fell with them was unbelievable since like 2009-2018 (her story might not follow the show especially because of the diverged storylines and she has the alternative to escape the vale but who knows)
It's no secret that Sansa was a very hated character throughout GoT's run. People ~manifesting she would stay in the Vale was a way of wishful-thinking her out of the narrative. Their dislike made them ignore reason and come up with many silly theories.
Much has been said about Sansa's pawn-to-queen narrative, but the main argument for her surviving the series is that, if GRRM wanted to kill her, he had many, many opportunities to do so in five books and didn't. Sansa is physically and socially vulnerable & her POV focuses on her rich internal world, strength and endurance, yet she remains unscathed and is instead learning court politics. Why is that? It's basic bildungsroman storytelling. Denying that is just being petty at this point.
Sansa also cannot remain in the Vale as Alayne, since that is Littlefinger's plot. Only the most delulu stans will not accept that a shady person such as Littlefinger will face authorial punishment for his sins. And, when he does die, what's stopping Sansa from claiming her identity? Especially as she finds out the feared and detested Ramsay Bolton has married "Arya Stark". She will naturally want to help her sister.
Now, I need to re-read for this, but I believe it is hinted in AFFC that Myranda Royce slyly figured out who Sansa is. If you remember the prologue of AGOT, the fancy, pretentious Night's Watch ranger from the group of three that first encounter the white walkers, is Waymar Royce. He is the third son of Bronze Yohn, head of House Royce. I did a quick search to refresh my memory:
"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne." He kissed her nose. "Have Maddy lay a fire in the solar. I shall receive our Lords Declarant there."
(AFFC, Alayne I)
I mean... you can't be more explicit than that. The Royces know who Sansa is, but they'll just keep quiet and play out this charade?
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