#i’d be blackout drunk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withleeknow · 4 months

Text

thirteen percent.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao word count: 1.2k note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.

at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.

at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.

"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."

you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"

"this is my normal volume?"

"your normal volume is loud."

"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"

you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.

you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"

it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.

and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.

"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."

"you took me home?"

"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"

despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"

minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."

to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.

you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.

you: oh naue why rom sponnign you: i wsntto go homrr you: mimo tskeeee me homeee

"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."

"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."

"doing what?"

your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.

"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.

but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."

it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.

it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.

you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.

"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.

"whyyy not?"

"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."

but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.

you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."

minho could only sigh.

"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"

you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.

it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.

"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."

he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.

"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."

"and not to mention you kept-"

"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."

he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."

"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"

"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.

"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."

"i want a cat tower."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

627 notes · View notes

444rockstargf · 3 months

Note

so happy your requests are open tbfh, could you write something (for euro, he is so MEEEEOOWWW) about reader being a sibling of one of the other band members and they hate each other and then SEX!!

thats as specific as i can get i fear 😭 i love your work so much thanks for your time girl!!

thank you for the request babe! (this is absolutely scrumptious.)

"big, bad, naughty rock star." | euronymous

big bad wolf. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp@auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart @imoonkiss @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt

female!reader x r!euronymous

word count: 1.6k

contents: brother's best friend type relationship, tension, drinking, unprotected p in v, implications of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, not proofread!!!

heavy metal music tore through the thin walls of your house, the noise from the basement sounding as deafening as ever from your bedroom. you were lying on your bed, eyes closed as vibrations filled your body.

you groaned, rolling off your bed as the pounding sensation in your head grew more intolerable by each passing second. truth be told, you had no problem with death metal. your brother was into it, so that automatically meant that it would rub off on you. but what you didn’t like was attention-hungry guitarists who didn’t know when to give the ear-piercing riffs a break.

you stormed down two flights of stairs, making your way to the source of the racket. you swung open the door, causing the music to come to an immiediate halt and all eyes to turn to you. euronymous’, or rather oystein’s gaze caught your eye first. it was icy and cold and bitter like the depths of the arctic.

you placed your hands on your hips, your friendly eyes turning to slits as you met his glare. “can you animals keep it down in here? i’d hate to fall asleep to your music and suddenly wake up in the pits of hell.” jan axel, your brother, smirked at your comment with a little chuckle. “no problem. we’d hate to interrupt your beauty sleep.” you swatted him off, turning and walking away from the atmosphere.

you felt a pair of predatory eyes on you the entire time, probably studying you. you had shown up in a lacy camisole top, tiny black shorts and white thigh-high socks with little pink bows on them, an outfit that would now be engraved in euronymous’ mind for the rest of time. he watched you walk up the stairs as his band continued playing, watching your ass jiggle with each step you took.

then he turned to your brother.

“why the fuck do you let her walk all over you like that? she bitches and whines like a goddamn 12 year old.” jan scoffs. “c’mon man, that’s my little sister. and you know she’s 18. you were even at that big birthday party of her’s, remember?”

oh yes, he remembered. the night you got blackout drunk and tried to lead him on, leading to a very sloppy hookup that also happened to be the night he lost his virginity, to you. but you didn’t remember any of this, and that was probably for the best. so all you viewed him as was that weird guy that hung out with your brother.

euronymous rubbed a hand over his face. “she’s a fuckin’ brat, dude. and she dresses like a damn hooker. you can’t just let her do whatever the hell she wants around here. one way or another, it’ll ruin our band.” jan brushed him off. “whatever, man. she’s her own person. she’s a woman, so it’d be pretty fucked up for me to be bossing her around.” he flipped over his sheet music. “from the top.”

euronymous placed his guitar on it’s stand. “i’m grabbing a beer.” he muttered, making his way to the stairs and bolting up them. that’s when he saw you in the kitchen, squirting whipped cream into your mouth from the can. he felt heat pooling in his core from the sight. “oh, fuck me…” he muttered under his breath, making you turn your head to him.

“the grumpy old troll crawled out of his cave, hm?” you taunted. he rolled his eyes, spitting back a snarky response. “why don’t you crawl back into whatever fairytale you lept out from.” you snarled, the expression on your face making euronymous’ knees weak. you opened the fridge, putting the whipped cream back and grabbing a bottle of beer. the last one.

you started heading back to your room until you felt a calloused hand grip your wrist, pulling you back. “i was gonna take that.” his eyes bored into your soul, but you put on a fake-pout. “well that’s too bad.” you licked around the tip of the bottle, claiming your territory in attempt to disgust him enough to leave you alone. but his pupils dilated when he saw your pink tongue smear saliva across the bottle, awakening something primal in him.

you hopped up the stairs, giving him a view of your legs in such innocent yet provocative clothing. without thining, he followed you up, walking into your room behind you and pinning you to the door by your chest. your eyes widened as the door shut behind you, your heart hammering inside of your chest.

“what the hell are you doing, oystein? jan would murder you if he saw you doing this.” euronymous didn’t have anything to say to that, so his mouth gaped open slightly as he studied your features. you looked like if your brother was crossed with a cute little child’s doll. your eyes shimmered with intense emotion, and he imagined what they’d look like as they rolled to the back of his head while he fucked you.

he watched the top of your breasts rise and fall with each heavy breath you took, feeling a very familiar sensation in his jeans. one that he always felt whenever he saw you. he shook himself back to reality, plucking the beer out of your hand. “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be drinking this. besides, you’re a kid.” your cheeks puffed up with anger. “you’re like 6 months older than me, asshole.”

he shrugged, leaning against your wall and taking a large swig of beer, looking around your bedroom. as pink and girly as it was, it all became much more lewd the longer he looked. there were bras and panties slung across almost every surface, smutty books filling your bookshelves, and a pretty pink vibrator that failed to be hidden underneath your pillow.

euronymous smirked, walking toward your bed and picking it up, switching it on. “well what do we have here?” your breath left your lungs as he held it, quickly rushing up to him and snatching it. “dont touch that!” he laughed bitterly, looking you right in the eye. “so turns out princess bubblegum’s a fucking whore.” you felt your cheeks heating up as he continued to speak.

“did you get to cum, dolly? or was the sound of real music too much for your pretty little ears?” you opened your drawer, tossing the vibrator into it and slamming it shut. then you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, picking you up and throwing you onto your bed.

everything was happening too fast for you, but the next thing you knew euronymous was on top of you, your faces less than an inch apart as his tone turned into one of lust and desire. “i asked you a question, angel. did that stupid toy make you cum?” you gulped, your core starting to drip from the words he spoke.

you shook your head, causing him to smile. he pushed your legs apart, letting himself in between them and pressing his burning erection onto your clothed pussy, making you gasp. he trailed his hand down your body, his fingers slithering under the waistband of your shorts and stopping at your panties, feeling the sopping wet mess underneath the thin, lacy fabric.

your limbs turned to jelly as a moan slipped from your lips. he began to rub slow circles onto your hard clit, feeling it’s throbbing response.he used his other hand to slip of your shorts, then your panties, taking off your clothes layer by layer until only your socks were left. but he left those on. he thought they were a nice touch.

one thing led to another, and he was pounding into you from behind, his fingers shoved down your throat as he stretched out your tiny little pussy with his monstrous cock.

your back arched as he pressed you into the mattress, feeding on your desperate moans and whimpers like a starved beast. “like that, doll? is that the spot?” he cooed, obviously mocking you. you were a sobbing mess, your mascara running down your face as you drooled around his large fingers.

he looked down at you from where he was, watching your ass bounce with each hard thrust. he watched the curve of your back as his dick made you lose all control of your senses. you would never admit it to him, but he made you feel much better than that stupid vibrator did.

“i-im cumming, oystein..!” you managed to cry out, his finger muffling your words. you had gushed and creamed and squirted around him so many times by now that you had lost count. but body was weak beyond its limits, but he refused to stop. he just kept on pushing, his deep, hoarse groans eoching through your bedroom walls.

he landed a harsh slap onto your bruised ass, making you yelp. his thrusts began to lose their composure as he spoke, his voice breaking. “c-can you cum f’me one more time, baby… can you do that for me..?” you nodded frantically, tears rolling down your face and staining your bedsheets.

his cock throbbed inside of your pulsating hole, creating a wet and sticky mess as cum poured down your thighs and stomach. and then he began to shout, his voice coming out as a booming roar. “goddamnit!” he forced himself all the way in, making your heart stop for a moment as he filled you up with his molten hot cum. he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, his groans turning into little whimpers before he pulled out, shooting a few last ropes onto your arched back.

you laid there, panting like a dog as the realization hit you. your brother’s best friend had just fucked you. the one that you had never gotten along with. the one who swore he’d kill himself if you ever got a man to touch you. the one who longed for the day that he’d finally get to claim a pure soul like yours as his own. and now, he’d finally done it. again.

author's note: i ran to write this as soon as I got the request. goodnight yall :))

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lana del rey #euronymous #lords of chaos #smut #lana del rey unreleased #eurorory #euronymous rory culkin #euronymous smut

287 notes · View notes

maddiericciardostroll · 6 months

Text

Slut! | DR3 / LS2

in which the first race happens and boy does it happen

warnings- images show reader to fit stereotypical female beauty standards!!! kind provocative pictures…

a/n - i don’t like this one very much but i hope you guys love it… also sorry i left you guys hanging for 3 days!!!

part 1 part 2

danielricciardo

liked by lancestroll , christianhorner, and 948,926 others

danielricciardo got lovesick all over my bed 💌

username @/logansargeant i think you should see these pics because you aren’t ever gonna see it irl again

liked by danielricciardo

your.username AHH !

username im so in love with y/n

username this weekend is gonna be so juicy i can just feel it

lando jpg y/n better come say hi to the mclaren garage

liked by your.username

danielricciardo don’t worry she says she will

username somebody come get daniel before something bad happens

your.username you guys i got lovesick all over his bed too!!!

your.username

liked by formulaone , redbullracing , and 1,348,723 others

your.username in a world of boys he’s a gentle man . ( he beat up my ex 🤭)

username y/n isn’t real

danielricciardo and i’d do it again, love you sm baby <3

your.username i love you too bub ☺️

username im getting blackout drunk rn because of this comment

username logan has been real quiet

logansargeant i mean can i really say anything

danielricciardo JUMPSCARE!

username she got her happy ending , daniel is so good for her

estebanocon i’ve got the video for whoever wants to see it

liked by your.username

danielricciardo estie bestie i want it

formulaone we can’t condone this behavior please don’t spread a video or there will be fiscal repercussions (send it to admin please this office gets boring)

#fluff #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #smau #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #dr3 x reader #f1 #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #danny ric #honey badger #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing #redbull daniel

603 notes · View notes

wedonthaveawhile · 6 months

Text

Crimson and Clover

Garreth Weasley x MC (18+ only)

The Weasley's are known for their hospitality when it comes to those without a place to call home. In keeping with his family values, Garreth invites MC to the Weasley Christmas party, leading to some one-on-one time in the barn.

Tags: NSFW, aged-up characters, smut with plot, semi-public sex, dirty talk, oral sex, drunk sex, snowstorm, flirty Garreth, fluff, modern dating norms.

AO3 // Word count: 5.5k

The witch crunched over patches of frosty grass as she ascended the cracked cobblestone path to the Weasley cottage. She had a suspicion Garreth may have stretched the truth regarding the number of guests his family typically hosts over Christmas. His house was tiny. Undeniably adorable, with warm light spilling from frosted iron window frames, and crooked beams nestled between cobbled bricks, but it was definitely on the snug side.

A decent amount is what he’d told her when she’d interrogated him on the headcount. In hindsight, it was a very vague answer.

She probably should've kept her holiday plans—or lack thereof—to herself, considering his family's reputation for taking in students without a place to call home, but he’s so difficult to tune out when eagerly recounting one of his ridiculous anecdotes.

“—that’s when it dawned on me that I’d spiked the barrel with a tad too much firewhisky," Garreth had regaled, his hands waving dangerously close to the dormant devil snare. "Aunt Matilda is down for the count..."

His herbology partner stifled a laugh at the thought of their conjuration professor blackout drunk, only to be jolted into panic as Garreth's flailing hands nearly triggered a response from the roots.

"Garreth, will you focus!"

"Shit, my bad," he muttered, conjuring a beam of light to repel the advancing vines. “So anyway, we’re pretty sure Aunt Matilda’s dead at this point, but then she sits up and demands we bring her a man-”

A suppressed snort lodged in her throat and she promptly choked on it, triggering Garreth to erupt into a spirited cackle.

"Alright, my little seedlings," Professor Garlick began to softly chastise. "Let's ensure each leaf in this botanical cluster gets its chance to soak in the sunlight of knowledge without being overshadowed by the noise.”

They exchanged sheepish glances before refocusing their attention on their assignment.

“What about you, how was your Hallowe'en?” Garreth asked, brushing up the scattered soil on their table and sliding it into Duncan's bag.

“Peaceful. There were moments when it felt like I had the entire castle to myself, it was perfect."

"Wait, you were here?" He swiped the back of his hand across his frown, smearing damp mud across his freckles. “Not typical for your watchdogs to let you roam alone, is it?”

She nervously stole a glance across the table. Fortunately, both Sebastian and Ominis were too immersed in their own tasks to catch the jab.

“Had I known, I would've persistently hounded you until you came to mine,” Garreth continued, “You could've witnessed drunk Professor Weasley in all her glory. Consider this an early Christmas invite."

"I appreciate it, but I actually love the calm during the holidays."

"Even over Christmas?" His brow furrowed as he struggled to grasp the idea of finding joy in silence. "What would you even do if you were on your own?"

She released a deep exhale as she contemplated her options, most scenarios revolving around the idea of staying in pyjamas all day. "I'd probably spend most of the day in bed—"

Garreth smirked, cleaning soil from his fingernails. "I could clear you a spot in mine."

She rolled her eyes, choosing to brush off his remark. He had a reputation for being a flirt but in the past few months he’d doubled down and the line was starting to blur between teasing and genuine intent.

Assuming the invitation was nothing more than a passing whim, she thought that would be the end of it, but she was mistaken. The occasional lingering glances they shared in passing—glances she typically tried to ignore—were now interpreted by him as an open invitation to approach. He relentlessly pestered her on whether she would be attending, shooting down each excuse with a stream of reasons why she should be there.

"Christmas is a family event, it would be strange for me to be there."

"Christmas at my house? Packed. Most of them? Total strangers."

"I'm dreadful at small talk. You'd have to stick to me like glue and handle all the mindless chatter."

"I'd do both of those things regardless."

She staved off his advances until early December when she ultimately surrendered just to put an end to his relentless pursuit. There were two weeks of holiday to enjoy, so giving him a few hours on Christmas Eve felt like a reasonable compromise.

She released a shaky huff of breath, the warmth curling up and misting into the crisp air, before rapping her knuckles against the weathered door. After a series of muffled footsteps, it creaked open an inch and little fingers curled around the edge. A festive melody wafted through the hallway and spilt into the front garden. Through the narrow crack, a short, pudgy-face Garreth peered out.

"Hi there," she greeted with an awkward wave, her hand hesitating mid-air as the kid gawked up at her. "Is Garreth home?"

Following an uncooperative pause, a surge of relief rolled through her as the bug-eyed child was nudged aside, and the door swung open fully at the hands of her herbology partner.

There was an undeniable tightening in her chest at the sight of him in his party attire – a dark red shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a snug sweater vest layered over it. His unruly ginger hair had been somewhat tamed by a touch of pomade, but he’d mostly retained his customary wild waves. She attempted to toss out a snarky comment about his appearance, but an articulate sentence evaded her.

"Did you walk all the way from town?" he asked, leaning his head out the front door and tracking the trail of disturbed snow left by her footsteps. "We have a floo connection in our living room, you know. You could have come straight here."

"I felt awkward showing up in the middle of your house. I didn't want to get ambushed by a grandma."

Their eyes met and a brief silence hung between them until he blinked, "You returned an egg to a Hebridean black dragon on foot, but introducing yourself to Granny Meryl has you all nervous?"

"Mind if I come in?" she brushed off his question and crossed the uneven wooden threshold into the warmth of the hallway. He only half-turned to let her through, forcing her to brush up against him as she passed. It was going to be a long night.

Maybe he hadn't exaggerated the capacity of his house - the hallway alone was the size of the exterior. Bulky coats and scattered shoes adorned one side of the expansive hallway, while the aroma of festive spices wafted from the open living room door. Beyond it, she could hear a lively cluster of voices, more than she had expected. The concept of a bustling atmosphere rather than an intimate one managed to quell her nerves slightly.

"You're looking lovely," Garreth complimented as he took her coat and added it to the hectic mountain of others. When she turned to face him, he made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes were wandering all over her, taking in the details of her emerald dress. "Did you put in all this effort for me?"

"No, it’s for Granny Meryl.”

Garreth groaned dramatically, tossing his head back as he led her into the living room. "Granny’s power of seduction knows no bounds.”

The interior of the cottage must have been expanded for the party, it felt like it went on forever as Garreth weaved them through the horde of inebriated partygoers. One of the perks of belonging to a pureblood family: The unrestricted use of transfiguration spells as the need arose.

They ducked past a drunk aunt merrily dancing on a table with a tie fastened around her forehead which took her way too long to realise was Professor Weasley. Securing a tankard of eggnog that leaned more towards pure brandy, they sank into one of the conjured sofas by the fireplace. She felt a flutter of unease as Garreth slouched a little too close on the worn-out crimson couch. The sagging base pressed their thighs together as it slanted inward, and his arm casually draped around the back of the sofa forced her to consciously resist leaning into him.

She indulged in a few gulps of her festive brew, hoping it would work its magic in loosening her up. She wrinkled her nose at its sharp bite. "Did you have a hand in creating this? It's pure alcohol."

"No, I wasn’t allowed," Garreth sighed, his eyes momentarily losing focus as if lost in a painful memory. "Not after last time."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to dig deeper into that story, but her attention was snagged when something bounced off her leg.

"How many of these are siblings?" she questioned, observing another hyperactive child nearly tripping over her ankles in a rapid dash. For every ginger kid zipping around, a blonde or brunette was in hot pursuit. It became increasingly clear that the Weasleys had not only gathered their immediate family but also an assortment of additional strays.

"Too many. I have two older and three younger, though don’t ask me to distinguish them from my cousins because I’ve already had a bit of brandy and they all have the same face.”

“Yeah, your face.”

“The Weasley genes are strong.”

She gestured toward the gawky child she had encountered when she arrived, "Surely that one's a brother? I initially thought it was you at the door, and you'd had some of that defective potion again—the age-reversing one."

Garreth burst into laughter. "I'd forgotten about that."

“Didn't Sharp have to carry you around on his hip the entire day until it wore off?"

"What a day," he reminisced, wiping a tear from his eye. "And by the way, that's not the same kid who opened the door for you."

"What?"

"I might still have some of that potion," he dismissed her confusion, pondering aloud with a distant look in his eyes. His hand suddenly clamped down on her knee, and he turned to her with pure glee. "Let’s put it in the eggnog."

“Garreth, no.”

"You two are absolutely delightful," an elderly wizard chimed in, swaying slightly as he gestured between the two of them before delving into a nostalgic tangent about him and his wife in their prime.

She noticed she had gradually surrendered to the sinking sofa and was practically nestled in the crook of the arm Garreth had draped across the backrest, while his other hand maintained a firm grip on her knee.

"No, that's not..." she stammered, elbowing him away. "He's just my herbology partner."

“Sorry, dear?”

"She said I’m her life partner—" Garreth’s quip morphed into a yelp as her elbow found its way into his ribs.

After downing just enough alcohol to straddle the fine line between tipsy and outrageously tired, the incessant chatter in the room began to verge on overwhelming. Politely removing herself from a longwinded conversation they’d found themselves in with a rambling cousin, she slipped out into the empty hallway for a brief respite.

The main lights had been extinguished, casting the corridor in a warm glow from the floating candles scattered across high beams. She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and absorbed the relative quiet.

The living room door scuffed against a rug, unleashing a burst of joyous music before clicking shut again. She'd chalk it up to the eggnog later, but the flickering light cast a shadow over Garreth’s gentle features, and something in her gut pulled taut.

"Are you stalking me, Weasley?" She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to give him a once-over.

"You did mention the only way I'd get you to come is if I stuck to you like glue," he pointed out, leaning against the wall beside her.

"Oh, fuck, did I say that?" she sighed, too tired to argue, and couldn't anyway because he was completely right. "I’m not running off, I just needed a breather."

"I didn't think you were, I just wanted to check in." He pushed himself off the wall and started pacing down the hall, brimming with too much energy to stand still. "If you need a real timeout, we could go for a walk and get lost in the snow… It’s nice and quiet out there, where sounds don't carry."

"You could phrase it in a way that doesn't sound like you're plotting my death."

"I'm ready and willing to escape these prying eyes if you are?"

She gave a nod of approval at his somewhat improved wording, then scolded herself as her slightly tipsy gaze ran down the length of his body. Her relief at his lack of comment shifted to a sense of surrender as he summoned their coats, keenly aware he would torment her with it if she declined.

Over the past hour, the snow had whipped up into a flurry, the cottage obscured in a dreamy haze as their steps left imprints on the path that weaved through the fields.

Garreth wrapped them up in a warming charm, the flakes melting into droplets before reaching their skin and trickling down the edges of the shield. It took the edge off the biting December breeze, though it fell short of providing any substantial warmth.

"What's with the feeble charm?" she shivered, answering her own question as she edged a little closer to Garreth, attempting to pilfer some body heat.

"No clue what you’re on about, I’m perfectly warm.”

"You're a liar," she declared. She had wrapped her sleeves around her fingers in an attempt to ward off the chill but let a hand emerge to press the back of it to his flushed cheek. He wasn't lying, his skin burned against her frozen fingers.

"Feel free to turn up the heat," he smirked, leaning into her touch. She thought it was an invitation to enhance the charm, but the laughter that followed his comment hinted at something more suggestive.

"You're the host—it's on you to keep me comfortable," She dropped her hand, noticing she had subconsciously homed in on the warmth radiating from his neck.

He intercepted it before it could fall limply at her side, slowly intertwining their fingers. He gave her every opportunity to pull away, but she found herself not wanting to.

"I'm glad you agreed to come," his voice stumbled for just a split second, but she caught it. Nerves.

It was endearing—a crack in his self-assured armour that stirred a feeling she’d experienced before but had always buried away—When his face lit up as she laughed at one of his one-liners. When he’d pickpocket the last red velvet cookie for her from his Quidditch meetings. When he'd spot her in a bustling crowd, bump his shoulder into hers and walk her to class.

"I'm glad you asked me a hundred and twelve times," she teased, knocking her elbow against his arm. She stole a glance back across the field to catch sight of the cottage. Despite feeling that they hadn't covered much ground, all she could discern beyond five feet was a swirl of snowflakes and shadows.

“Are you nervous?”

She snickered at his question, having weathered harsher conditions in far less pleasant company. "No, I'm fine. I like a good snowstorm."

“Well, there’s a barn up ahead if you want to take some shelter and see if it calms down before we head back.”

"A barn? Do you have cows?" Her excitement bubbled up, pushing aside any suspicion of his ulterior motives. "Or horses?"

"No, we have stables up the hill, but we rent them out to folks in the village. This is just a hay barn. Although, there's a rather charming tourist attraction inside the barn that I'd love to show you."

"You're quite eager to get me inside that barn."

He responded with a sheepish smile. "I assure you, I'm being genuine—no funny business... Unless you initiate it."

The snowfall was thickening, and she admired how effortlessly he steered them through it. The barn didn't slowly come into view—she blinked, and suddenly the red wooden structure was looming over them.

The silence closed in as Garreth slammed the door shut and blocked out the insistent howling of the wind. The hush was only disturbed by the rustle of loose straw stirred by gusts slipping through the cracks in the beams. He flicked his wand towards the loft, and the spell ignited rows of candles lining the rafters. The soft glow revealed stacks of hay bales towering toward the loft, casting stretched shadows on the dusty wooden floor.

"Isn't that a fire hazard?"

"Muggle-borns," he scoffed, as though the mere suggestion was ludicrous.

“So, where’s this tourist attraction?”

He responded with a nod, directing her attention behind her. In the heart of the hay barn, a solitary rope swing dangled from a sturdy support beam.

"Oh, shit!" She dashed toward it, gathering momentum, and caught the swing midway. The worn fibres felt abrasive against her palms as she let it bear her weight. Hooking her foot into the loop, she tilted her head back, swinging with a jumbled grace. She was sure she hadn't consumed enough eggnog to be drunk, but as she propelled herself into the air, her brain began doing cartwheels. She inhaled the earthy aroma of aged wood to ground herself.

Vibrations travelled across the beam and down through the rope as Garreth clambered up a wooden ladder into the loft. There was a moment of rustling and a few mumbled incantations before a triumphant, "Aha!"

He stumbled out from behind a barrel, wrestling with the cork on an unopened bottle of firewhisky. "One thing about having a large family," he began, attempting to mask the strain in his voice, "is that you have to get creative with your hiding places."

"So, this is where you stash your treasure? Good to know."

"Nope," the word was punctuated by a pop as the cork shot out, chipping a battered beam in the process. "This is where my brother stashes his treasure."

"Oh, so you’re that kind of brother. That makes so much sense.”

“What kind?”

“A nosy little shit.”

He raised his wand in response, and the swing slowly began to pull back. She kept her cool until she reached the point parallel to the beam, at which she let out a shriek as her stomach lurched, and she plummeted. As the swing's momentum slowed, she came to a halt breathless and laughing.

"Stop hoarding the loot," she scolded as she emerged at the top of the ladder, finding him comfortably settled against a wooden beam swigging the stolen whisky. She swept aside a few strands of straw with her foot before settling down beside him.

"Come and claim it," he goaded, holding the bottle aloft and swinging it between two fingers.

"I thought you said no funny business."

"Unless you initiated it," he reminded her, "I'm just offering you the chance to kick things off."

On any other day, she would have suppressed the ache to clamber onto his lap, but the combination of a light buzz from the alcohol and him looking like that had left her defenceless. She didn't stand a chance. She intercepted the bottle as he raised it to his lips, taking it from his grasp and straddling his thighs. He seemed caught off-guard as if he hadn't expected things to go this far.

“You've got the talk down, but when it comes to walking the walk, you seem a little skittish," she teased, savouring the sharp burn of the liquid as it coursed down her throat.

His surprise vanished beneath a confident grin. "Skittish? I'm just savouring the moment." Though he sounded sure of himself, his eyes didn't quite meet hers as he reclaimed the bottle, taking a lingering sip.

Setting the glass down with a clink, he ran his hand up the length of her thigh. "I've got you all night, maybe I just want to take my time with you."

She attempted to mask her reaction to his expectations, but judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face, she didn't do a great job. "All night? This is news to me."

"Well, it's a blizzard," he remarked, tracing random patterns on the fabric of her dress. "I can't let you walk back to the village in this. I'm a gentleman."

"I thought your living room had a floo connection," she replied, feigning a mocking tone as she repeated his words back to him.

“It’s one way.”

"Shut up," her laughter was stifled by a gust crashing against the barnyard doors. She jumped, suddenly aware anyone could walk in and catch him nestled between her legs.

"Don't look so frightened. Granny Meryl is much less likely to walk in on you screaming my name out here than in my bedroom."

She despised how much that stupid joke had turned her on, his words winding through her brain and choking out any thoughts that weren't focused on how close he was. Close enough to count each of his freckles, and how she wanted to kiss every one of them. "You seem pretty confident in your abilities."

He hummed, trailing his fingertips along her jaw. "If you're curious, all you have to do is ask."

Her fingers weaved through his hair as she kissed him. A satisfied sigh escaped her throat before she could stifle it, and her toes curled when he seized the opportunity to slide his tongue against hers. She rocked forward against his hips as he pulled her closer, shamelessly grinding against him.

"What do you want?" he whispered painfully soft, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pulled her down, inviting her to feel more of him. He was thick and stiff between her thighs and when he rolled his hips up it sent a wave of sparks racing across her skin.

"I want this off," she demanded, tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt, aching for the absence of any fabric between them. He briefly tore his lips from her skin to wrench it off and fling it aside. Her hands trailed over the contours of his skin, firm beneath a satisfying layer of warmth and softness.

"Your turn," he whispered, moving with painstakingly slow precision as he started to unclasp the buttons of her dress.

Timing couldn't have been more perfect, the snowstorm screamed through the cracks in the wood, but his skin was blazing against hers. Finding solace in the warmth, her freezing hands roamed across his body. Fumbling fingers traced a path downward, hungrily stumbling against his buttons.

"You haven't asked yet," he scolded, guiding her onto her back and settling between her parted legs. He took hold of her hands, rutting against them just once so she could feel how rock-hard he was before pinning them above her head with a sturdy hand. “I want to hear you ask for it.”

A surge of pride and a touch of defiance kept her from begging him to take her. After enduring months of chasing, the audacity for him to assume he would be in control of—

“Can I?” His whispered words in her ear shattered any semblance of self-preservation. He used his free hand to tease the fabric at the neckline of her unfastened dress with delicate fingertips.

She nodded with more eagerness than she'd initially intended as he peeled the fabric down her body. "See how easy it is to ask for it?" he teased, his palm brushing faintly across the sensitive curve of her breasts. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as he flicked his tongue against her taut nipple before taking it in his mouth, his velvety hum vibrating against her skin.

"Garreth," she tried to sound stern, but it escaped as a needy gasp.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Embarrassingly, a hushed whimper shot up her throat as the affectionate name slipped off his tongue.

"Let go of my hands," her nails traced a path down the nape of his neck as he instantly complied with her demand. Abandoning any pretence of playing coy, she added, "I want it, I want you. Please."

The carnal groan that she’d coaxed from him shuddered through her and pooled between her legs. His fingers trailed up her thigh and slipped under the elastic of her underwear, eliciting a strangled whimper as he exposed the sensitive bud between her legs.

"That's it, moan for me," his touch transitioned from oversensitive to pure bliss as began he circling her clit.

"So... bossy—" Her words melted away as he slid his finger through the gloss on her skin and pushed it inside her.

"It gets you wet though, doesn't it?" he murmured, his lips latching onto her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, head tossing back as she surrendered to the sensation of him filling her up.

Her fingernails carved into the worn-down grooves of the wooden floor as she ground against his hand. His face faltered as if his brain had shattered at the sight of her riding his hand. "Fuck, keep moving just like that."

His erection strained against his underwear, protruding from his partially undone trousers. He scrambled to free it with one hand while dipping his head between her legs. His tongue circled her clit while his fingers quickened their pace. It was an onslaught - merciless and precise, sending deep waves of pleasure winding through her body. His hungry grunts prickled against her tender skin as he began using his free hand to touch himself.

"I’m right here, you should use me for that," she whispered, watching him pleasure himself through giddy eyes.

"Come on my face, and I’ll let you have it," he slung her thighs over his speckled shoulders and began to devour her. His hands grasped at her plump thighs, pulling her tight against his eager mouth. She could faintly hear herself whining—yes, please, and don't stop.

"Oh, fuck, Garreth please," she begged louder, a shockwave coursing through her body as his fingers found their way back inside her. She clutched at his thick hair, bucking her hips against his face. He groaned appreciatively, and that eager sound forced her over the edge, her orgasm striking her like lightning. He delved his tongue inside her as she lazily rutted against it, riding out the surges of euphoria.

“Look at you, following orders," he grinned, crawling up to cage her in his arms, claiming her lips with a rough kiss, "being so good for me." He spread her legs apart with his knees and directed his arousal between her thighs. His dick gently brushed against her, and she shivered at the heightened sensitivity. "Are you ready, or do you need a moment?"

“I’m ready,” she mumbled as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch. It was painfully slow and taunting, and when she tried to grab his hip, he interlocked his fingers with hers and pinned it to the floorboards.

“You want more, sweetheart?”

She couldn’t do anything but nod. The way he stretched her out felt sinful, a delicious form of sweet agony. He was vocal, each measured thrust was met with a rough groan and the noise scrambled around in her wonderfully empty skull. She arched as he gave her everything he had, he seamlessly slid his arm into the space left behind with an intoxicating roll of his hips.

"Right there, just like that," she whimpered as he struck a spot that sent shooting stars dancing across her vision.

His name dripped from her tongue like honey as he hit that spot again, driving him to thrust into her with increased force, each effort eliciting louder cries of his name.

"Oh, sweetheart, you feel like you were made for me." He came to a halt, buried to the hilt inside her as he worked a possessive love bite into her throat. "I've wanted this for so long," he confessed between each lingering suck, rocking his hips flush against hers. "Wanted you so bad. Fantasized about bending you over that herbology table. Making you scream."

She had never thought that words could bring her to the summit, especially not the words of Garreth Weasley who typically used them to irritate her. Yet, his rasping confessions were pushing her exceptionally close to the edge.

"Just—just.. stay like that," she pleaded. He was barely moving, but she felt on the verge of splintering apart from the way he was stretching her. His warm body pinned her helplessly to the ground and the unholy pressure of his cock deep inside her sent sparks radiating through her belly.

"You're trembling," he whispered as she fluttered around him. “You gonna come for me?”

"Yes," she whimpered, pulling him close for a kiss. He rocked into her and all she could do was moan as her orgasm slowly rolled through her body like a crashing wave. She had believed they were just two drunk friends giving in to some meaningless tension, but he was kissing her so slowly, stroking her face as he fucked her through each gentle pulse of her orgasm, and it was turning her to putty in his hands.

Wanting to contribute her share, she steadied her trembling legs and gave him a firm shove, rolling him onto his back.

He quickly established a pace she had no control over, gripping her hips to keep her in place so there was nothing she could do but take it. His mouth enthusiastically explored her breasts, kissing and sucking until she felt light in the head. "Do you want it?" The crack in his voice was almost too much to bear. "Want me to come inside you?"

She ran her nails through his hair as his thrusts began to falter and fall out of rhythm. "I want you to come. Please, Garreth I want it." She whispered soft encouragements in his ear, needing him to be as stimulated as had been.

He mumbled her name against her throat, his hips slapping vigorously against her soaked thighs. His head fell back, fiery red hair clinging to his sweaty temples as he grunted with each rhythmic pulse. She nestled against his warm chest, listening to the thunderous pound of his heart as he released deep inside her.

He wrapped her in his arms, and they lay together for what felt like an eternity—his fingers gently trailing through her hair might have even lulled her to sleep for a few minutes before he eventually shifted to reach for his wand.

“Sorry," he told her without a trace of remorse, muttering a few charms to clean them both up.

Clarity slowly returned to her mind, and thoughts rushed in like an avalanche. Should she head home? Was he genuinely suggesting she stay the night? Sticking around for Christmas felt intrusive. Maybe she should muster the will to get dressed and leave—as soon as her legs felt like legs again.

Casting a sidelong glance at Garreth, he seemed to be experiencing the same inner turmoil as she was, absentmindedly picking at his wand while staring down at her. In an effort to dispel the tension, she sat up and delicately kissed the red lines she’d carved into his shoulders.

"If you want this to be a one-time thing," he began, his voice carrying the same vulnerability she heard when he'd held her hand, "I can respect that, I'll take you home and everything between us is good. On the other hand, we could go pilfer a troll sack full of food, bring it to my bedroom, and just be humans together. What do you think?"

"How much is a troll sack?" she smirked, as she delicately brushed some sticky strands of hair away from his eyes.

"Enough to last a couple of days," his confidence began to seep back in as he flashed her a smile. "I don't have any plans for New Years, or you know, any of the days leading up to it."

Pretending to consider the proposition, she glanced at her reflection in a nearby bucket, using it to smooth out her hair. "I say we rejoin the party. I should probably make an effort to socialise if I’m going to be overstaying my welcome."

Authors note: If you're interested in the story behind Garreth turning himself into a baby, and subsequently carried around by Sharp all day, you can find "Baby Garreth, and where to find him" here.

372 notes · View notes

ryan-sometimes · 5 months

Text

I am above all a girl’s girl. I am automatically nice to every woman because that’s one of my girlies. A woman has to earn my hatred. And even when I do hate her, if she needs a tampon and I have one, it’s hers. If a man is being creepy to her, I’m pretending to be her bestie to get her out of there. If she’s blackout drunk I’m paying for her Uber home and watching the entire ride until she’s dropped off. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than let a strange man take her home. Girl code is so sacred to me

339 notes · View notes

narnian-neverlander · 1 year

Text

In Whatever Way [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: When he unknowingly tests your patience, you snap at Adam and say something you immediately regret.

Word Count: 5,1k

Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence, cursing, slight injury & mention of blood, bit of angst, hurt & comfort, idiots in love, author being a sucker for the ‘oh. oh.’ moment of realization trope

A/N: Kind of a follow up to this one, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone

I have exactly one complaint and that’s Adam not having Will’s freckles (for obvious bodypaint reasons), so I went ahead and fixed that 💁

If someone had told you a year ago that a Sovereign would become your favorite person in the galaxy, you would’ve laughed in their face and then put a bullet in between their eyes for good measure. But life’s got a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

That first night after the defeat of the High Evolutionary, it’d been way too messy and hectic to find Adam a place of his own, so you’d dropped him off at your tiny apartment, very specifically told him to stay put and to not touch anything, and then headed out again in search of food and some clothes. You’d found those, but alongside them, you’d also found the furry F’Saki Adam had basically adopted. He’d looked about as lost as his owner, so you’d tucked the little guy under your arm and had taken him with you. Arriving back at your home, you’d discovered Adam curled up on your bed, fast asleep. The F’Saki had immediately scurried out from your grasp, made himself comfortable at Adam’s legs and had started snoring almost right after. You’d stood in the middle of your room, still in your dirty, torn uniform and bone tired, a young Sovereign and his pet passed out on your bed and had actually stopped to wonder how on earth your life had gotten to that point.

Not seeing a reason for staying any longer, you’d decided you might as well go out and get blissfully blackout drunk with your friends. Leaving a note with the change of clothes and food, you’d turned towards the entrance to find Nebula standing in your doorway. She’d scanned the situation she’d walked in on very carefully and then had simply raised slender, judgmental brows at you. You’d shooed her out, gently closing the door behind you, and had reminded her that ‘Adopting strays that’ve tried to kill us is kinda our thing; didn’t think I’d need to tell you of all people.’

Ever since that night, Adam had been virtually glued to your side. It’d been a bit strange and uncomfortable at first; you weren’t used to always having company, much less that of a Sovereign. There’d most definitely been an adjustment period with quite a few mishaps, one of which had ended with him in the med-bay with a bloody nose after he’d scared the ever living daylights out of you while you’d been testing the upgrades Rocket had made to your gauntlets - you’d apologized profusely for the rest of that day. Over time though, it had become apparent that he meant you no harm, nor did he have any ill will, he simply wished to repay the kindness you’d shown him when he’d felt he had no one looking out for him anymore.

And despite the fact that his golden skin and hair, his engineered-to-be-perfect face and body and his manner of speaking reminded you of his heritage everyday, you’d found it increasingly easy to ignore the fact that he was part of the species responsible for so much pain in your life. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair to hold him accountable for actions committed by his people long before he was even born. But it wasn’t just that, Adam was simply… different from the rest of the Sovereign. He might’ve been created to be perfect, but he was far from it: He was only just understanding his own limits, landing him in situations that had him in over his head more often than not. He could be arrogant and quick to anger over the smallest details. He only liked learning things if they came to him easy, but grumpily and quickly dropped the ones that didn’t. But there was always an underlying innocent curiosity and kindness in his actions; in the way he’d so effortlessly bonded with the rescued animals he was now taking care of. In the way he always immediately offered assistance, no matter how menial the task. In the way he’d taken such an interest in any and all earth things, simply because they held special meaning to you. In the few months since he’d come into your life, he’d captivated you so completely, had gotten you to care for him so deeply and truly, it even shocked yourself at times still. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

There is however still one topic of conversation that never seems to get easier and that’s his late mother, Ayesha. High priestess and figurehead of the crusade against your kind; all because of shapeshifting abilities you never even asked for. You’re very well aware of the fact that, before he became a part of the Guardians, she was the only family Adam had. That he’d cared for her very much, he still does, it’s obvious in the way he talks about her. And usually you let him talk, for his sake; to let him grieve by sharing stories about the loved one he lost. But today’s been exhausting, to say the least. You’ve been up since the crack of dawn and nothing seems to work out the way it’s supposed to. At the moment, you’re down somewhere in the bowels of Knowhere, courtesy of a broken filtration system. And since your resident genius raccoon mechanic is off world with Groot and you aren’t half bad with machines, the honor of trying to fix it had gone to you. You’d been down there for hours now, though, and aren’t making any real progress. Adam had joined you a little while back, and while you usually welcome his company, he’s picked a particularly bad day to select his mother as a topic of conversation. Your nerves are frayed, your patience running thin, but you hold your tongue, choosing to only answer in occasional hums of acknowledgement to confirm that you’re listening. That works out just fine right up until the moment he says “You remind of her, actually.”

The wrench you’re currently using almost slips from your sweaty palms as you bristle and hiss “Don’t ever say that again.” His answer is immediate and while you’re not looking at him, you can hear the genuine confusion in his voice. “Why not? It’s the truth.” The more rational part of you knows he means it as a compliment - but that part seems to have taken the day off. You swallow the rising bile in your throat before you reply with “I am nothing like that vile woman. Don’t compare me to her again, do you understand?” You’ve quite obviously hit a nerve, as you hear him rise from his seated position on some debris and when he speaks again the confusion in his voice has given way to anger. “My mother was not vile, take that back!”

You mumble “Maybe not to you…” more to yourself than anything else as you busy yourself with the repairs, absolutely not in the mood for this conversation, but he hears anyways. “I don’t care what you might think of her; she loved me!” A bark of laughter escapes you before you can stop it, bitter and cruel. “Please, maybe she loved what you were supposed to be; the ultimate weapon, the next step in their precious perfect evolution, but you failed that spectacularly. And even that’s pushing it!” The bolt you’ve been trying to loosen seems to have gotten stuck even worse as you aggressively throw your whole weight down on the wrench’s handle, any and all social courtesies you’ve kept up around Adam in regards to this particular topic going right out the window. “But don’t take that personally; Sovereign just aren’t capable of love, it’s as simple as - FUCK!!” The bolt finally gives way, sending you face first into one of the pipes of the machinery. Pulling back with a pained hiss, you bring a hand to your throbbing forehead and let out a few more curses when it comes away bloody.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Two deep, slow breaths it takes for you to calm down. It takes two more for realization to hit and the regret that comes with it threatens to choke you on the spot. Adam’s gone deathly quiet and you’d honestly prefer if he lost his temper with you; that you could handle at least. You’re terrified of what you’ll find when you turn around, so you do so slowly and immediately wish you hadn’t at all.

Adam’s an awful liar; he wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions always plain on his face for everyone to read. And right now? Even on that first night, when he’d been injured, scared and all alone, you don’t think he’d looked so completely and utterly heartbroken. His name has barely left your lips in a desperate plea when he turns and takes off, the golden glow of his powers vanishing around a corner and completely out of sight not a second later. There’s no point in going after him right now, you know that, he’s stubborn, especially when he’s upset - not that that helps you feel better about yourself in any capacity; you well and truly want to throw yourself out of the nearest airlock. With a heavy sigh, you pick up the discarded wrench from the floor, deciding to give the young Sovereign some space and quickly, haphazardly finish with your work instead.

By the time you leave the med-bay, a bandaid now covering the wound on your forehead, it’s been a good hour or two, so you make your way to Adam’s apartment, hesitantly knocking on the door. When there’s no answer, you peek through one of the small windows, but the room is empty except for Blurp curled up on the bed, snoring contently. You check the cantina next, then the complex where the animals had been set up. You check in with Kraglin and Cosmo, Drax and Phyla, and basically any residents of Knowhere that you come across - no one has seen the golden man since he went off to help you. Your search eventually brings you to the spaceport, where you find the Bowie freshly docked, Groot carrying crates down the loading ramp, Rocket on his shoulders. Considering you were running out of places to check that were actually on Knowhere and Adam didn’t need oxygen like the rest of you, you figure you might as well ask if they’d seen him somewhere in the general vicinity of the giant head while coming back.

“Rocket, have you seen Adam?” the question’s out of your mouth before you’ve even properly reached them and your furry friend doesn’t bother to look up from the data pad he’s studying as he scoffs “Nice to see you, too, (y/n). Yeah, me and Groot are fine, mission went great, thanks for asking; always touching to come home to such a warm welcome.” Mumbling out an apology you only half mean, you cross your arms over your chest and look at him expectantly. When he realizes you’re not gonna go away, he hooks the pad to his belt with a groan and looks at you, one elbow propped up against Groot’s head. “How the flarg would I know? Goldie’s attached to your hip, not mine.” You don’t wanna have to get into details right now, so you settle for “Usually, sure. But I messed up, he ran off and now I can’t find him.” Rocket snorts, clearly not buying it. “The guy looks at you like you hung the friggin’ stars in the sky, what could you of all people have possibly done to piss him off that bad?” Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you avoid eye contact with him and busy yourself with a loose thread on your shirt instead. Details it is after all. “I… might’ve insulted his mother and told him I don’t believe Sovereign are capable of love.” The quiet lasts for all of half a second before Rocket starts cackling so hard, he goes tumbling off of Groot’s shoulders and ends up on the ground; clutching his stomach he’s almost howling in laughter and it makes heat shoot up to your face in both embarrassment and anger as you stomp your foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “Rocket this isn’t funny!!”

The raccoon struggles to his feet, one paw still on his knee as the other wipes at his eyes. “You’re right; it’s not. It’s hysterical! I mean… if that’s how you talk to a guy you’re actually into, I’d hate to see how you treat the ones you don’t like.” Brows furrowing in bewilderment, the complete change of topic makes you fumble for a moment as you ask “What… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” All traces of amusement vanish from Rocket’s face, jaw going slack as he stares at you and realizes you’re serious. He lets out a low whistle before he states “Wow. And here I thought the golden boy was clueless. At least he’s got some excuse, he ain’t been around the galaxy for all that long, but you? You can’t be for real.” You’re very quickly growing very tired of this conversation, so with a huff, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “Rocket, are you gonna stand here and give me riddles for the rest of the day or are you gonna help me?” Said help comes from the tree that’s been busy unloading the ship up until now. “I am Groot.” Your head snaps towards your teammate at the insinuation. “What tracker?” Now it’s Rocket’s turn to look embarrassed, a disappointed sigh and a long, drawn out version of his name leaving your lips. “I thought we talked about this ages ago; you can’t go putting trackers on people without their consent!” He doesn’t seem all that bothered by your outburst as he mocks “Oh boo hoo, y’all constantly whine about that right up until the moment it benefits you - like right now!” But he goes digging through one of the pockets on his belt anyway and holds out the small device he finds to you. Your anger more or less evaporates as you are yet again reminded that Rocket does care, in his own way. You kneel down to his level, take the tracker and give him a hug as you thank him - and just for good measure, press a long, disgusting kiss to his furry cheek as payback for laughing at your predicament. He scrambles out of your hold in obvious discomfort, gagging noises accompanying you as you take your leave, but as usual, he needs to have the last word, shouting “Save the smooches for Goldilocks!!” at your retreating figure.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re looking up at one of the tallest buildings in Knowhere. It’s an old, dilapidated communications tower that is long overdue for demolition; it’s all rusted metal and broken off, jagged edges, entirely impossible to climb without flight capabilities. Out of options, you helplessly check the tracker once more just to make sure that, yes, unfortunately he’s really up there, Rocket’s tech could be trusted on that and squinting up at the top you’re almost sure you see a glimmer of gold. You pocket the device with a shaky inhale and cup your hands around your mouth. “Adam!” you shout, even though you don’t really need to; he’s got enhanced senses, you’re certain he’d be able to hear you even if you whispered. “Adam, I know you’re up there, can you please come down?” Five seconds pass. Then ten. Then thirty. Nothing. “Listen, I know I messed up and I know you’re upset, but this isn’t gonna just go away, we need to talk about it!” A full minute of silence passes this time, dread and anxiety weighing down your shoulders more and more with each second that ticks by. When you speak again, you’re worried about your voice breaking, so it does come out as a whisper this time. “Adam, please. At least give me a chance to fix this.” Head hung low, you run both hands through your hair and over your face with an annoyed groan, upset with both his stubbornness and with yourself for having caused this mess in the first place. Thinking your attempt at a conciliation lost, you turn to leave and almost fall flat on your ass in shock when you find Adam standing there, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at you. “I do not wish to speak with you.”

“And you don’t have to, you just… have to listen for a moment, alright?” It takes him a few long, agonizing seconds to begrudgingly nod and you let out a relieved breath. Despite the hours you’d just spent searching for him, carefully laying out what you wanted to say, you’re drawing a blank at this very moment, but you try anyways. “Okay, look… I’m sorry about what I said earlier, I truly am.” When he scoffs in disbelief you reach for his hand, only to have him pull away, making your heart sink. Ever since he’d started experiencing things for himself and figuring out his likes and dislikes, it’d become clear quite quickly that Adam enjoyed physical affection, especially when you were the one to initiate it. He’d never turned it down - until now. How badly had you messed up?

“I mean that, Adam. It’s just that… I know Ayesha was your family and you miss her, but the person you knew her to be and the person I knew her to be are… quite contrasting. And I honestly don’t think there’s a way for me to reconcile both views with each other. I’ve let you talk about her because it seemed to make you happy, but you have to understand that it’s hard for me to hear praises about a person who was directly responsible for so much suffering and pain in my life. However, I also know that my experiences and rage… blind me, to a certain degree; lumping together all Sovereign isn’t fair, cause everybody’s their own person and can make their own choices, you’ve proven that.”

You can see the gears turning in his head, but he stays quiet and avoids looking at you all the same. You swallow hard around the lump that’s formed in your throat before you continue speaking. “Be that as it may, I also want you to know that you don’t have to accept my apology if you don’t want to.” His eyes are on you in a second and the hopeful tone in his voice when he says ‘I don’t?’ threatens to split your heart in two. “No, you don’t. I’m apologizing because it’s the right thing to do and because I feel absolutely awful about having hurt someone I care so much about. But if you feel that I’ve crossed a line, then…” Clearing your throat to keep your voice from breaking, you feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Then you’re under no obligation to accept it for my sake and I’ll have to live with that. I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Brushing past him, calls of your name fall on deaf ears as you leave, considering that’s just about all the emotional toll you’ll be able to take today.

A pillow tightly clutched to your chest, you’re curled up in bed not much later, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Honestly, you’re not sure why exactly you’re even crying. Because you’re sad at the prospect of having lost a friend? Because, despite of what you said, you wish he’d been less stubborn and just accepted your apology? Because you’re frustrated with yourself over how close you’d allowed the two of you to grow in the first place? It really doesn’t make sense to you. It had taken years for the rest of the Guardians to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself so that they could squeeze inside, but Adam? A few months was all it had taken for him to get under your skin. For you to look forward to spending time with him everyday. For his laugh to become your favorite sound. For —

Your train of thought gets stopped dead in it’s tracks by a soft knock on your door, immediately followed by the scratching of tiny claws and an all too familiar whine. Wiping your palms over your eyes to get rid of the rest of the wetness staining your face, you scramble out of bed and make your way towards the entrance of your apartment. As expected, you find Adam and Blurp on the other side, the F’Saki slipping inside like he owns the place as soon as he’s able. He makes himself comfortable on the foot of your bed and looks at both of you expectantly, all bright eyes and perked ears. A setup like this normally means movie night, a little tradition you’d started to help Adam get a hold on as many customs as possible while still having fun and not actually throwing him into social interactions that would make everybody involved uncomfortable. For all intents and purposes, with the dim lighting in your room, the messy bed and Adam on your doorstep in his usual sleeping getup of sweatpants and a tank top, it does look like that’s what’s about to happen, you can’t blame the little guy for misinterpreting. Dragging your gaze back to the golden man at your doorstep, you’re surprised to find he doesn’t look half as exhausted as you feel. Matter of fact, this is the calmest and most determined you’ve seen him all day.

“May I come in?” You step aside to let him, gently closing the door behind you both with a quiet click. “I’ve thought about what you told me earlier and I think I’ve come to a conclusion on what I must do.” Dreading what comes out of his mouth next, you can’t seem to muster up the strength to look at him and keep your eyes downcast, only for his hands to enter your field of view and grab hold of your own. “I need to apologize to you.” Your head snaps up to find that he’s completely serious and barely manage to stutter out an incredibly intelligent ‘Huh?’

Adam lightly squeezes your hands when he continues. “Up until you pointed it out, it never occurred to me how the topic of my mother, my people might make you feel. Unintentional or not, my actions hurt someone I care about and I don’t like how it makes me feel. Apologizing is what I should do in that case, correct?” You wrangle with yourself for a second, but then squeeze back gratefully. “Yes, that’s right, and I’m thankful that’s the conclusion you came to, but… Adam, you couldn’t have known. I never said anything about it, instead I let my negative emotions fester and grow until I couldn’t take it anymore and it all came out in the worst way possible. If anything, we’re both a little to blame for this.” Pausing to take a deep breath, you continue with the question you really want answered, even though you’ve got a pretty good idea already. “So… does that mean we’re okay? You’re not upset with me and want me out of your life?” You watch his eyes grow wide in shock and his hands move up to your shoulders to settle there with a firm grip. “Is that what you were afraid of? Why you’ve been crying?” Shrugging as best as you can, you mumble “Kind of? You seemed so angry with me, I just thought I’d crossed a line there was no coming back from and it made me sad, so—“ The sentence stays unfinished as Adam envelops you in a bone crushing hug, even lifting you off the ground a little.

“(y/n), you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I came into this world and I don’t even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.” he says, face buried in the crook of your neck and you’re glad for it as you feel heat rising all the way to the top of your ears. Hugging him back just as tight, you reply “I don’t want to think about my life without you in it anymore, either.” Content just being in each other’s arms, you stay like that for a bit, until he breaks the comfortable silence with a quiet call of your name as he carefully puts you back on your feet, to which you respond with a hum of acknowledgment. “Do you really think me incapable of love?” And just like that, the feeling of wanting to throw yourself out an airlock returns; frantically stringing together the word ‘No!’ about ten times as you pull back to properly look at him. “No, of course I don’t, that was just… When people are angry, they’ll sometimes say and do things they don’t actually mean. But I swear I don’t think that about you, how could I? You’re proving the opposite every day.”

“I am?” he questions, brows furrowed, confusion and doubt clear as day and you can’t help but laugh softly as you go to cup his handsome face between your palms. “Oh my sweet Adam, do you really not see it?” Bringing his own hands to lightly hold your wrists, he sighs. “I wasn’t created to love. I was created to kill. To destroy. To bring pain and misery. So when you said that, I was… I am scared you might be right.” Gently running your thumbs over his cheeks, you simply look at your golden boy for a mere moment. The last rays of the artificial sunlight filtering in through your blinds cast him in a beautiful glow; eyes warm like honey, skin glittering like stars and the pattern of slightly darker golden, coppery spots over his nose and cheeks, an imperfection akin to freckles you’re still surprised they let him keep, all the more prominent. Of course he’s capable of love, he has to be. Surely, you wouldn’t fall for someone who wouldn’t be able to—

Oh.

So that’s what that prick of a raccoon had been talking about. With the benefit of hindsight, it honestly baffles you it had taken this long for the other shoe to drop. Adam calling your name is what kicks your brain back into functioning after that epiphany; you blink and shake your head a little before responding. “Sorry, I was just… never mind. Do you… do you really not see how your everyday actions show love?” His eyes flick between yours as he considers your words and then settles on “I’m… not entirely certain what love is supposed to look or feel like.”

“Oh dear, uhm…” you’re unsure if you’ll be able to explain that to him properly, but you’ll be damned if you don’t at least try. “Well… there’s many different forms of love. All similar, but slightly different in some ways. But overall it’s… to deeply care for another being, I guess? When being with them brings you joy? When you want to see them safe and happy? And even though you might wish for that happiness to be with you, it’ll be fine if it’s not cause they matter more to you than yourself.” Your hands have wandered to the base of his neck, fingers buried in the short hair as he cocks his head to the side in thought. “Like you and the rest of the Guardians let Peter Quill and Mantis go on their own paths even though it made you sad to see them go?” Grinning, you nod in confirmation. “Exactly. And the way you took it upon yourself to take care of the animals we saved? The way you adopted Blurp, in spite of what your mother wanted, cause you felt he was sad and lonely? How you went out of your way to make sure I felt comfortable around you? All of that means you care. All of that are ways of showing love.” It’s obvious he’s trying real hard to comprehend everything you’ve just explained to him, but it a lot, so you continue with “Love is one of the most simple and basic emotions in most beings. But navigating it and differentiating between it’s different forms can be difficult - for everyone. There’s no rush though, you can take all the time in the world to figure it all out for yourself. I promise you have nothing to worry about, you’re perfectly fine, okay?”

Adam brings one of his hands from your waist up to cup your cheek and smiles when you lean into his touch. This is what he’d been trying to tell you earlier, when he’d compared you to his mother: He trusts you completely, your judgement, too. You make him feel at peace like no one else in the universe. “Okay.” he replies and you return his smile, just barely containing the urge to pepper kisses over his pretty face and -

Yeah you’re gonna have to deal with this particular mess of emotions sooner rather than later.

The tender moment gets interrupted by Blurp whining at you two, impatiently hopping from one paw to another on the foot of your bed. “It would appear Blurp insists on a movie night. If you feel like it?” you chuckle and Adam happily agrees. So you set up everything as usual and settle on a lighthearted family comedy to watch. But the day’s been long, exhausting and emotionally draining; try as you might your eyes keep drifting shut and you’re out cold ten minutes into the movie.

The golden man jumps a bit when there’s a slight thump against his shoulder, only to find you fast asleep. His focus now on you instead of the movie, tender fingers ghosting over the bandaid on your forehead in concern, he thinks about what you’ve just told him. About what love was supposed to feel like and it dawns on him that yes, the warmth that spreads through his chest all the way down to his feet when you do as little as smile at him must be love. And yet when he’s with you it’s… different from what it felt like to be with his mother or to be with Blurp or the rest of the Guardians. It irks him to not be able to properly discern what makes you special; you’d said there were different forms of love, but how was he supposed to understand the difference?

As you curl into his side more, one arm coming across his chest to hug him and his name subconsciously falling from your lips in a barely audible, sleepy mumble, he realizes it doesn’t matter, nor does he really care, at least not right this moment. For now, it’s enough for him to be certain of the fact that he loves you and you love him - in whatever way.

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #gn reader #adam warlock #gotg vol 3 #adam warlock fluff #idiots in love #angst #hurt/comfort #guardians of the galaxy #mcu #will poulter #my writing

544 notes · View notes

thestoryofusstan · 5 months

Text

All I Want For Christmas Is You

part i

pairing: harry styles x fan!singer!reader

summary: harry shows up at your show twice. you're more excited the first time.

warnings: some cursing, some angst, nothing else really!

“happy christmas to you as well,” you answered.

you expected it to be awkward, stiff, forced — anything, really. anything but so alarmingly easy to talk to the same man you obsessed over for years.

i mean, your head was screaming and your insides were turning but on the outside, it was easy.

and the last thing — the last, the very, very last — thing you expected him to do was tug you over to the legendary anne twist and gemma styles.

“y/n, this is m’mum, anne, and m’sister gemma,” he introduced.

you gave what you hoped wasn’t (but knew was) an awkward smile and waved, “hi.”

gemma just threw herself up from the seat and hugged you, “it’s so good to meet you!”

she said that as if you’d known harry for more than fifteen minutes.

or, he’d known you. you knew at the very least of him for 8 years now.

“you too!” you responded, because it felt like the proper reaction.

anne pulled you into a hug as well, albeit far more calm than gemma.

“you did lovely, dear. you have a very nice voice.”

“thank you,” you blushed, even more so when you felt a ring-clad hand rest on your lower back.

“i’m gonna steal her away now. just thought i’d introduce you all.”

you honestly can’t remember what on earth you were so worried about. harry was easy to talk to, and he actually seemed interested in what you were saying. he payed for every little fruity drink you ordered.

and he ordered you so many — you ordered them, he tried to cut you off numerous times but you always swatted him away — that you said probably the stupidest thing ever when your friends mentioned heading out soon.

“d’you wanna come with us? we’ll probably go to jen’s and get blackout drunk,” you laugh.

and you… oh. well, you were just so cute when you asked. wide eyes, dilated pupils from three too many fruity drinks, and a hopeful smile that bordered on just a little anxious, that.. well, really, how could he say no?

“you are already well on your way to blackout drunk,” he teased.

“hey!” you smacked his arm, causing him to laugh and put his hands up in surrender. “and.. i mean, i suppose i can hang around for a bit,” he shrugged. “no harm, right?”

oh, how wrong he was. there was harm in it. so much, in fact. the two of you spent the whole night cuddled up together on jen’s couch until he noticed you falling asleep on him.

he excused the both of you and drove you home, which was a task in and of itself because you were so tired and drunk you didn’t understand what he was asking when he asked what your address was.

and then, when the two of you arrived, he made a comment about how unsafe the area was and how he felt bad leaving you in the house alone. made you promise to lock your doors all the time, and made another comment you almost didn’t catch.

“jus’ gonna have t’find you a better place. this won’t do, pet.”

and you, really, were just expecting his presence in your life to be a one and done thing. but it wasn’t. you woke up the next morning to a text from an unknown number.

Unknown

Had to go home to Mum and Gem, or else I’d have stayed with you in case you got sick. There’s Advil and water on your nightstand. Text me when you’re up. Happy Christmas, again.

H xx

and if you weren’t borderline obsessed with him before, you were now.

the two of you saw each other at least once a week after that. you went to his birthday party and everything. then, on valentines day, he asked you on a date. the two of you went on dates for all of february until he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

and you said yes. so, you were his girlfriend.

he stayed true to his comment. he bought you a place in the heart of london. a very luxurious, expensive flat. went to all of your gigs like the supportive, doting boyfriend he is.

or.. was.

you dated until june. when he all of a sudden texted you some utter bullshit about ‘not being able to do this anymore’ and cut all contact. blocked your number and on all social medias— although, he didn’t block the secret fan accounts you never told him about which is the only way you knew a crumb of what was going on in his life.

you chose to not go to tabloids for that. they never told the truth, anyway.

the one thing he didn’t stop, though, was paying your rent. you almost wanted to buy your own place and abandon this one to spite him. but how could you?

he left you with the damn dog, too.

oh, that’s right.

the two of you adopted a small beagle in march, right after you moved in. named it sunflower, because he called you sunflower.

(he also found it hilarious that whenever he’d call ‘sunflower’, both of you would appear).

you didn’t even have the heart to rip down all the photos of the two of you throughout the apartment.

they just sat there, collecting dust.

when christmas rolled around again, it was safe to say you were heartbroken at best, depressed at worst.

you moped all day, even when you and your friends opened presents in your apartment.

“so… y/n..” jen spoke as you all were eating dinner.

“hm?” you hummed back.

“did you see what harry did?”

everyone froze.

harry was a sore subject, even six months after the break up.

you cleared your throat, going back to cutting your steal, “uh.. no. no, i didn’t. what?”

“he dropped an album called fine line—“

“oh, good for him, i guess,” you shrug.

“uh.. he.. he dropped it on your.. birthd.. day..” she let out slowly.

you dropped your utensils. “he did what now?”

“.. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything—“

“he left me— i woke up one morning, and he was just gone and all i get is some stupid fucking text about how he can’t do this anymore, and he pulls this shit? no. no, i’m— absolutely fucking not—“

“that’s.. not.. it,” she winced.

“what? what else could he have possibly done?”

“there’s a song on the album. uh.. called.. sunflower..”

you stood up from the table and stormed to your room, slamming the door.

when you woke up, it was the next day.

and you had a text.

cuntface (harry)

I got your voicemail… baby, I am so sorry. I should’ve asked about the song, and the album. Dropping it on your birthday was uncalled for. I’m sorry. I should’ve reached out. I shouldn’t have even left.

sent at 8:57pm

Baby, come on. Please answer. I’m sorry. Are you alright?

sent at 11:22pm

that motherfucker left you in the dust without a second though, and he had the nerve to act concerned about you? what the hell did you even say in the voicemail?

you tapped a few buttons on your phone until finding said voicemail. you hit play.

“you have a lot of nerve, you know that, harry? you fucking leave me with no other reason besides ‘i can’t do this anymore’.. like.. what kind of fucking excuse is that? and you left me with our fucking dog! our dog! that you named after what you called me! which, by-the-fucking way is a fucking song on this apparent new album of yours that you dropped on my birthday like i was the problem in our relationship! fuck you, harry. fuck you for everything. i-.. god, i can’t even say i hate you, because.. i don’t. i don’t fucking hate you, and i hate that i don’t hate you because i should. i should fucking hate you so much, but i don’t. i’m still in love with you and it’s so fucking pathetic. and that’s your fault. so fuck you, harry. fuck you. you’re not the only one who can write songs.”

you furrowed your brows at the last sentence you said in the voicemail. you didn’t write a song about him, did you?

and then you glanced at your nightstand, and your songbook was thrown open. a whole song written out on a page you are very sure was blank before.

you grab the book, examining the now tear-stained pages before reading the song title.

i should hate you.

well, that’s fitting.

on new years eve, you had a show at the same bar you met harry at. and at the very end of your set, you performed the song you wrote about him.

“so, uh.. i’ve played here before, actually. last christmas, and uh.. i met this.. this guy. huge crush on him, all that shit. we talked for a while, dated for a few months, got a dog together and then he.. just.. kinda left? and didn’t reach out for six months until i cussed him out in a voicemail, where i basically said i was still in love with him!” you laugh awkwardly.

the audience laughs, too.

“so, uh.. yeah. and then after that i was just, like.. i should hate him, so why don’t i? and.. that’s what this song is. this called i should hate you.”

you backed away from the mic slightly as you started strumming and the audience clapped.

“last night i spiraled alone in the kitchen. making pretend that the furniture listened. wasn’t the best of my mental conditions, but i tried thinking of you without any forgiveness.. because i was the one who would stay up and call you. and i’d drive to your house for the shit that you went through.”

driving to his house anytime the press did something to upset him. calling him when he was miles away and it was three in the morning, and you had a shift at the coffee shop at six.

“and i wasted my breath when i tried to console you, didn’t i?”

anytime she’d comfort him about the horrible things tabloids said, he’d reject it.

“‘cause we didn’t happen the way we were supposed to.”

in your head, you were happily together and nothing ever went wrong in june. he was in the audience tonight cheering you on, smiling at you when you made eye contact. that’s how it should.

“i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. pulled the knife out my back, it was right where you left it.”

trying to console you after your voicemail, months too late.

“but you aimed kinda perfect, i’ll give you the credit.”

you opened up to him and it felt like he used that against you when he left like that. he knew exactly how to make it hurt to the point it was unbearable.

“i just drank something strong to try to forget, but it wasn’t right. no, you’re not even here, but you’re doing my head in. i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. ooh, ooh. i should hate you, i feel stupid like i almost crashed my car driving home to talk about you at my table in the dark.”

you did do that. you went to one of your spots in london (a little book store that was rarely busy) and afterwards, you sped home so fast you almost crashed. you just needed to talk about him, but nobody was home. because he left.

“all i ever think about is where the hell you even are.”

you always wondered where he was, how he was doing, if he hurt the way you did. if he felt it right in his chest the way you did.

“and i swear to god i’d kill you if i loved you less hard.”

you’d kill him if you didn’t love him. you’d hate him if you weren’t still in love with him.

“after all of this time, i still get disappointed.”

after the voicemail, you expected him to show up at your door and fix everything. he didn’t. of course, he didn’t. because, even if he still payed for the house, it wasn’t his home anymore. it was just yours.

“bet you’re doing alright, and you don’t even know it.”

from the bits and pieces you managed to see of his life, he was living it up. while you cried.

“how it’s all ‘cause of you that my standards are broken.”

before, you’d been like every other girl. saying your standards were high, because your standards were harry styles. it just so happened to be that he was the one to lower those standards.

“i would bend back to you if you left the door open..”

if he came back, you’d come running.

“i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. ooh, ooh. i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. i know that i should hate you. ooh, ooh.”

with the last note, you bowed. and then left the stage as everyone cheered.

you planned on just leaving. but something in you wanted a drink before hopping in the uber. so you ran up to the bar.

“a shirley temple, please,” you asked.

the bartender nodded and you sat in silence (save for the usual noise of the bar) until—

“y/n.”

a familiar voice. too familiar. it made you freeze.

your name from his lips was a statement. not a question, this time.

you finally turned, your eyes meeting familiar green ones.

“.. harry.”

deja fucking vu.

“i am so—“

“here’s your shirley temple to go, ma’am.”

you have never been more grateful for a drink. you turned and thanked the bartender quietly, grabbing the drink before speeding off.

“wh— y/n!”

you kept walking until you were halfway down the street and he grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn around.

“don’t. don’t do this, don’t run away from me— from us—“

“you ran away from us first, harry! i was all in! i was ready for whatever, and you just up and left like it meant nothing— like i meant nothing! do you know how that felt? do you even have an idea of what the felt like?”

he didn’t say anything.

“i didn’t think so.”

“please, baby— sunflower, i jus’ wanna talk.”

“i have nothing to say to you, harry.”

a/n: … hahahaha!

#harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles ficmas #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #ficmas

175 notes · View notes