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hoseoksluna · 1 month

Text

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch.

That’s a good girl. Messy for me.

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is.

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully.

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses.

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth.

He is not, in fact, on his way home.

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy.

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny.

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.”

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?”

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display.

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.”

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself.

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen.

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking.

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do?

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice.

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.”

Naked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.”

And with that, he hangs up.

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you.

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend.

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form.

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer.

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience?

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad.

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you.

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done?

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you.

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer.

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you.

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had.

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to.

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all.

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream—

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment?

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call?

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person.

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult.

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there.

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.”

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred.

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body.

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man.

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water.

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober.

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross.

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially.

Was it out of the question or would he consider it?

Your leg jitters harder.

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.”

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion.

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek.

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?”

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one?

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks.

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness.

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you.

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.”

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?”

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did.

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently.

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side.

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.”

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?”

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.”

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you.

“Can I feel how wet you are?”

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.”

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted.

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue.

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?”

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.”

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?”

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?”

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine.

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?”

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.”

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?”

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath.

“Spank my pussy again, please.”

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while.

“Apologize first.”

“You didn’t tell me how.”

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.”

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours.

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples.

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged.

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?”

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times.

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think.

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants.

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing.

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half.

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath.

Such a stark, sudden change.

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that.

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.”

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving.

“Keep your legs where they belong.”

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin.

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under.

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?”

A question for a question.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration.

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home.

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy.

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?”

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start.

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down.

You fight against it.

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness.

And you decide to repeat history.

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants.

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat.

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?”

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether.

And then, you collect your essence again.

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.”

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you.

He parts his lips for you.

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally.

You’re in charge. And it feels divine.

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue.

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.”

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you.

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince.

And then—then he manhandles you.

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does.

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden.

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter.

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?”

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening.

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion.

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.”

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit.

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free.

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off.

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.”

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused.

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.”

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation.

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way.

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum.

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.”

Yoongi has had enough.

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’.

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.”

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?”

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix.

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone.

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him.

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.”

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you.

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.”

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.”

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something.

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.”

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you.

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.”

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come.

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them.

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.”

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes.

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.”

With that, he hangs up.

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again.

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself.

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you.

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing.

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?”

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.”

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief.

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you.

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind.

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles.

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.”

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours.

But you don’t let him take charge.

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.”

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you.

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed.

You hold onto his neck with your dear life.

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.”

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours.

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.”

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him.

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock.

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit.

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life.

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too.

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring.

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.”

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation.

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?”

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness.

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him.

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.”

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.”

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two

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spirits-having-flown · 6 months

Text

“matthew, it is with heavy heart i say goodbye. the times we had together are honestly among the favorite times of my life. it was an honor to share the stage with you and to call you my friend. i will always smile when i think of you and i’ll never forget you. never. spread your wings and fly brother, you’re finally free. much love. and i guess you’re keeping the 20 bucks you owe me.” - matt leblanc

“i am so grateful for every moment i had with you matty and i miss you every day. when you work with someone as closely as i did with matthew, there are thousands of moments i wish i could share. for now here's one of my favorites. to give a little backstory, chandler and monica were supposed to have a one night fling in london. but because of the audience's reaction, it became the beginning of their love story. in this scene, before we started rolling, he whispered a funny line for me to say. he often did things like that. he was funny and he was kind. 🤍🕊️" - courteney cox

“oh boy this one has cut deep... having to say goodbye to our matty has been an insane wave of emotions that i've never experienced before. we all experience loss at some point in our lives. loss of life or loss of love. being able to really sit in this grief allows you to feel the moments of joy and gratitude for having loved someone that deep. and we loved him deeply. he was such a part of our dna. we were always the 6 of us. this was a chosen family that forever changed the course of who we were and what our path was going to be. for matty, he knew he loved to make people laugh. as he said himself, if he didn't hear the 'laugh' he thought he was going to die. his life literally depended on it. and boy did he succeed in doing just that. he made all of us laugh. and laugh hard. in the last couple weeks, i've been pouring over our texts to one another. laughing and crying then laughing again. i'll keep them forever and ever. i found one text that he sent me out of nowhere one day. it says it all. matty, i love you so much and i know you are now completely at peace and out of any pain. i talk to you every day... sometimes i can almost hear you saying "could you BE any crazier?" rest little brother. you always made my day... ❤️🕊️” - jennifer aniston

“matty, thank you for ten incredible years of laughter and creativity. i will never forget your impeccable comic timing and delivery. you could take a straight line of dialogue and bend it to your will, resulting in something so entirely original and unexpectedly funny it still astonishes. and you had heart. which you were generous with, and shared with us, so we could create a family out of six strangers. this photo is from one of my favorite moments with you. now it makes me smile and grieve at the same time. i imagine you up there, somewhere, in the same white suit, hands in your pockets, looking around— "Could there BE any more clouds?” “ - david schwimmer

“shot the pilot, friends like us, got picked up then immediately, we were at the nbc upfronts. then... you suggested we play poker and made it so much fun while we initially bonded. thank you for that. thank you for making me laugh so hard at something you said, that my muscles ached, and tears poured down my face every day. thank you for your open heart in a six way relationship that required compromise. and a lot of "talking." thank you for showing up at work when you weren't well and then, being completely brilliant. thank you for the best 10 years a person gets to have. thank you for trusting me. thank you for all I learned about grace and love through knowing you. thank you for the time i got to have with you, matthew.” - lisa kudrow

friends cast remembers matthew perry 🤍🕊️

#these tributes are so sweet #still cant believe that hes gone #rip matthew perry #friends #matthew perry #chandler bing #matt leblanc #joey tribbiani #courteney cox #monica geller #jennifer aniston #rachel green #david schwimmer #ross geller #lisa kudrow #phoebe buffay

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o

I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.

When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.

I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)

Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words

Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice.

You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?”

“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?”

He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?”

“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen.

“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.”

“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.”

You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail.

“S’that alright?”

“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!”

“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him.

“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?”

“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.”

Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey.

Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says.

You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.

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laneywrld · 5 days

Text

Oh Baby | part three

third and final part.

word count: 8.6k

Warnings: tame(er) smut. Pregnancy sex. childbirth.

progress is made, all thanks to your hormone gremlins.

It's safe to say everyone's favorite duo was back like they never left, just with a lingering air of sexual tension and babies in the oven.

You were never good at holding water, which is why you told your family and friends about it the very same night. Your friends were the most excited you'd ever seen them, and that was before you even mentioned who the father was.

When Miles questioned who the father was with a meek voice interrupting said celebrations, Lewis stepped forward with a cocky smirk and a pep in his step that made you want to kick the back of his legs in.

Instead, you gently motioned to Lewis with your arm thrown out.

You'll never forget your friend's reactions like a scene from a telenovela; they all gasped dramatically and clutched their pearls. "Oh, I'm going to beat everybody's ass; why didn't we know y'all were together?"

"We are NOT together." You interrupt.

"So fucking?" Miles pipes up, and you feel like you are on stage with a literal spotlight directed at you, with the way they are all intently observing you, including Lewis.

"Not fucking either." You deny, slapping Lewis' arm as to say, help me out here. He shakes his head at you, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It was a one-time thing that we both agreed would never happen again. This is the consequence of our actions that night." You put your hands on your pudgier stomach. "Yay!" you cheer quietly.

Whit stands first, and with tears in her eyes, she throws her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. Mori stands after already having been emotional since the initial announcement. She saunters over with a coo of "Aww, mama bear," joining in on the embrace.

Lewis' boys stand up, Miles put his hand out to Lewis for a dap and ends up pulling him into a hug. "One step closer." He chuckles gripping Lewis' shoulder as he steps back.

Daniel grins, approaching Lewis with his arms open and ready, "I'm proud of you, brother." He congratulates them through his own wide grin.

You turn to Lewis with your bottom lip poked out as your friends kneel around your tiny belly. It doesn't even really look like there's a child in there, but that doesn't halt your friends from gently caressing it.

You wipe away an unsuspecting tear as Miles coos gently to your stomach, "Hope you don't get your dad's forehead, lil man."

"She's a girl!" Whit scowls, mushing his face away from your belly.

"We don't know what it is, actually." Daniel returns Whit's actions, mushing her to the right as he emerges front and center.

Lewis, who had stood off to the side watching your friend's love on you and your unborn baby, steps to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He leaves a lingering kiss on your hairline before knocking Daniel over with his foot.

"Don't call my child an it."

Your parents, on the other hand, were a completely different story.

Your full government name is shouted by your mother as she holds onto your dad for support. They both look like they've been shot, and the greater betrayal was that you were the one who pulled the trigger. "Oh, Lord in heaven, please!"

"Ma." You whine, "Don't look like that, guys."

Lewis parents are sat beside your own, his mom is eyeing you up and down a interested look dawning her face. When your dad wipes the suprise from his face he looks like he is beginning the five stages of grief.

"My baby- I can't."

Lewis' mother slaps her ex-husband's thigh, motioning to the anxious look adorning their son's face.

"Lewis," His mom all but shouts, "Are you the father?" It comes out in a squeal, one that has your parents pausing their dramatics and leaning forward in sync.

Lewis looks like a thief caught red-handed. And just as you looked to him for support earlier, he does the same to you. You shrug at him, throwing your hands into your pockets.

How does it feel to be thrown to the sharks?

He stutters for a while, so he avoids eye contact with your dad. When his father speaks up, his voice is demanding. "Be a man, Lewis, answer."

You almost feel bad watching as your guys' parents sit literally on the edge of their seats. Lewis has never felt more nervous in his life. Deciding to put an end to his misery, you close the distance between you two and intertwine your hands.

"The baby is mine," Lewis announces, and your family jumps up like they've won the lotto.

Unlike your friends, they don't rush to you guys; they rush to each other. Your mom and Lewis' mom bounce up and down as they hug, and like the annoying men your fathers are, they point at each other with wide grins on their faces before they are in each other's embrace as well.

You and Lewis face each other in perplexity.

He clears his throat, and you call out, "Umm, hello?"

"Aww, my baby," your mom cries, rushing to you with her arms held high. You still stare back at Lewis, and your face is set in bafflement as she presses her lips to your cheeks and then cups your belly. Your dad comes barreling through, quite literally pushing your mom out of the way, and he is enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

Your mom shouts your dad's name, whacking the back of his head, "The girl is pregnant. Be gentle."

He eases back and holds your face in his hands, eyes staring into you with such adoration that it makes you emotional all over again. "My baby is having a baby."

Choked up you see Lewis' parents loving on him in the same manner, you catch Anthony's eyes and he is unraveling himself from his son and pulling you into him. "I couldn't be any more happier, my girl." He talks quietly into your ear as he hugs you.

As you talk to Lewis' mom, you see your dad and mom embracing Lewis, and you chuckle as he happily accepts their graces.

As time went on they just barely settled down.

"Oh please," you taunt. "You literally looked like you guys were ready to kill me."

You watch on in puzzlement as they begin writing Facebook posts.

"Yes, my darling." Your mother hums.

"Before we found out Lewis was the father." His mom adds with a cheeky smile.

"So?" your dad motions between the two of you, relaxing comfortably on the loveseat. "How long has this been a thing?"

At your words, the grin is wiped from his face, "It's not."

"Have you defiled my daughter Lewis Carl Dav-"

"Dad!" you shout, groaning again as he turns to Anthony with an incredulity like no other.

"So, maybe let's not do Facebook?" You suggest.

Lewis raises from beside you sauntering over to the dad couch, he sits on the arm of the chair beside your dad and talks lowly to them. You cannot hear what he says but by the way a grin covers the faces of the entire couch you know he's used his classic Hamilton charm on them.

He watches you as he speaks and shoots you a wink when he sees you trying to read his lips.

"I think we're going to head back to our wing of the house." He announces and that's your cue to start lifting from the couch.

You say your goodbyes, giving everyone smooches and welcoming the last of their congratulations. Lewis saunters over to you after doing the same and reaches for your hand. You graciously accept, waving one final time before he pulls you from the secondary house.

"So how are we going to go about this?" You question as the two of you walk hand in hand.

"However you want."

"I don't like how you just agree with everything I say; give me some input; this is your child, too." You ensure, "I'm open to what you want as well."

"I want you to be close to me during the pregnancy. It'd make me feel better for sure." He hums.

"Can I ask how that'd work? You're going to be traveling for the season. I want to keep my job for as long as I can."

"I want you to be stress free, I meant what I said, I'll take care of anything you need. Please just- you don't have to quit forever; just let me take care of you while you're pregnant, at least."

He looks so concerned with the idea of you working that it has you reaching up to physically push the frown from his face. You stop in front of him and poke your finger on his face by the corner of his mouth.

"Stop pouting," you instruct, "I work for my dad, after all. I think he'll understand."

He breathes a sigh of relief, grabbing your hand again as you start walking ahead of him.

"I also want everyone to know the baby's mine." He adds. "Unless you planned on keeping them out of the light, which I get-"

"Done." You cheese. "I'll let the world know you knocked me up, Sir Hamilton. More requests?"

"Move in with me."

You don't say anything as you turn to face him. The moon creates a glow around the two of you as you glance up at him.

"C'mon, I purchased the house because you liked it anyway," he shrugs. "You're there more than me during the season; Roscoe loves having you there; I love having you there. Plus, you love it there."

You stare up at him with an admiration like no other. It has him turning his blushing face to the side.

"I did say it'd be the perfect home for a kid one day, huh?" You squeal, wrapping yourself around him, "I'm so excited!"

He lifts you with one arm like you weigh nothing, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"I'm excited, too." He hums as he walks you into the primary home. The lights are all off as he carries you up the stairs and into your room. He plops you down onto the bed, crouching down to pull your slippers from your feet.

"I can do that myself, you know? I'm not that pregnant yet." You huff.

"What kind of man would I be if I had my baby mama doing anything?" He smirks up at you.

"All it took was me carrying your child for you to be awfully sweet to me, would've fucked you sooner."

"Always sweet to you," Lewis smiles up at you, "gotta stop talking like that to me if you don't want me to get the wrong idea."

"Mhmm." You fall back into the bed.

Lewis crawls onto the bed beside you, laying his head against your stomach; he pokes you, making you jump.

"Stop it, I'm ticklish." You warn; he only smiles, nestling further into you. "There's a baby in here." His voice is so low you almost miss it.

"Thank you." You express gently, rubbing your fingers through his braids.

"For what?" utters Lewis as his palm rubs in circular motions against your belly.

"For giving me everything I've ever wanted."

"I always will."

Whoever came up with the saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder was truly right. Although it was less than ideal, you and Lewis were back as if it had never happened. In fact, it's like the time you had away from each other forced you into the beautiful dynamic the two of you have now. Neither of you wanted to be without the other again.

It had been three months since your beautiful discovery, so that put you at a whopping five months pregnant.

Your belly was now noticeably bigger and rounder, much bigger than it would've been if Lewis' family didn't have a history of twins. And it was most definitely getting in the way of things, literally.

You huff as you struggle to squat down low enough to lift the box of blankets you packed. Just as you feel yourself get a good enough grip on the box and you begin to lift Lewis is by your side wearing a disapproving scowl.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to carry stuff out of here."

"Lewis," you huff, "It's literally just blankets."

"I don't care, sit down." He orders.

You stomp away from him, plopping down on the couch. He walks out of the front door and returns only moments later, waltzing into your kitchen.

He appears again with a plate full of orange slices, and you sigh as he approaches you.

"Lewis, there's only so many orange slices I can take in a day, buddy."

"The doctor said oranges are a good snack for month five," he pouts, "my kids need vitamin C."

"Trust me, belly's fine."

Almost like they can sense the presence of food, they kick at you, and you, still not used to the sensation, cup your stomach in a gasp.

"Mhhm," Lewis disapproves, "feed my babies." He is setting the plate of fruit in your lap, bending quickly to peck your stomach. "I have a few more boxes to help them load and then I'll be taking you home, okay."

You can only offer him a puffy smile, your cheeks filled with fruit. He chuckles leaning over to ruffle your hair and he's pulling your forehead to his lips pressing a chaste kiss there before he's walking towards the stack of boxes.

You dreamily sigh, watching his glistening tatted back contract as he lifts the heavy mass.

These fucking babies were turning you into a horny mess.

It was the second week of June. A week later than the deadline, you promised Lewis that you'd move into his home. Well, your home now, too.

It was safe to say that Lewis meant business. You had spent the last few months bouncing from country to country, attending every race with him and basking in the free time with each other, which he had before and after races.

When you opted to skip the Canadian Grand Prix under the pretense that you would go home to oversee the movers, he hesitantly drove you to the airport the day before qualifying.

But when you got home and your preganacy brain got to you, you realized you scheduled your movers for the wrong saturday. You could've sworn Lewis was having a panic attack with the way he was in hysterics over the facetime call as you explained your situation.

He had booked himself a very late flight after his race and appeared at your doorstep with an armful of plant-based treats and a carton of strawberry fro-yo. "It's good for the babies." He smiled sheepishly as he rushed in.

And here you were now, big and bored, spread across the couch as Roscoe snuggled into your side. You don't remember falling asleep next to your furry friend, but as Lewis gently shakes you awake with an adorable twinkle in his eyes you can't even be bothered to be irritated.

"Hey, mama," he coos. "You ready to head out?"

You nod, still groggy, swinging your legs over the couch and preparing to stand. Lewis catches you off guard as he swoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style with ease. He calls for Roscoe as he slips through the front door.

He opens the passenger side door of his car and sits you down softly, reaching over you to grab the seatbelt. And he's so close to you that it has your heart hammering when his hand swipes against your chest to pull at the belt.

"I'll be back in a second, going to lock up here."

He smirks as he closes the door and you see him taking his precious time to make it back into your former home.

You were no fool; truthfully, you were fully aware of the sexual tension that hung between you and Lewis since the night of his birthday.

There were lingering touches and gazes that you were sure were sexually charged. You've even noticed Lewis' impure reactions to you, and it made your brain race with questions.

The driver's side door opening drew you from your thoughts as Lewis appeared this time covered in a white tee. You will away your disappointment and reach for his phone to play some music. When you do you see a message from a saved contact.

Marie

Isn't it about time for you to come see me again?

"You've got a message." You tell him nonchalantly even though your heart aches.

"From who?"

You try to hand him the phone, but he waves it off, reversing the car. "Can you read it to me?"

"Marie, she says, and I quote, Isn't it about that time for you to come see me again? You late to a link, Lew?" You laugh even though there isn't shit funny to you.

"You can block her." He declares casually.

"Huh?"

"Block her for me." He orders, but he still hasn't turned to look at you. "She was just someone I saw when I was in Canada."

"Lewis, you don't have to end your fun on my account; I'm the pregnant one. You do know that you don't have to."

"Yeah." He pushes out hoarsely. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. In a way, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Life with Lewis has felt so extra domestic lately. It was almost like the two of you were in a relationship, minus the physical affection. And even then, that physicality was there; you two just never kissed or, well, had sex.

You wondered if he felt it the same way you had.

But then the thought lingers in the back of your head: did he see her when you left to come home?

The way he was acting oddly uncomfortable with the conversation gave you your answer, and in the end, you couldn't fault him for it.

You do as he instructs, clicking Marie's contact and blocking her number, and then you continue on with your initial mission and scroll through Lewis' Spotify until you find music to your liking.

The rest of the drive is silent except for the soft melodies escaping his speakers.

When you pull into Lewis' driveway, he parks, turns off the car, and hurries to your side, opening the door before you even have the chance to do so. He opens the backdoor and holds onto your hand. "Roscoe, c'mon boy."

He leads you into the home like you haven't passed through the very same doors a million times before.

"Which room did they move me into?" You question making your way upstairs.

"Oh," Lewis pauses, "I figured you'd be with me, in mine."

"Oh, okay."

You walk past him and further up the stairs as he trails behind you.

When you enter his room you beeline straight into his closet, well you guys' closet and sure enough there are more of your belongings taking up space.

You stand on your tiptoes to reach for one of his tee shirts. He is behind you in an instant, one hand holding your hip firmly and forcing your feet back onto the ground. The other reaches up and grasps the shirt you had been aiming for.

When you turn to take the shirt from him, he once again gives you the same disapproving gaze he'd given you earlier.

"Oh God, Lewis. I can't even get on my tiptoes anymore?" You question, pulling the shirt from his grasp.

"You could've tipped over." He argues, following you out of the closet. "You want a bath or a shower tonight?" He queries, already heading into the bathroom.

"A bath, please; my body is killing me."

"Put this on," he orders, tossing you your robe.

You strip from your shorts and tee-shirt throwing the robe on and waiting patiently for Lewis to emerge from the bathroom.

When he does, he's shirtless, and the sweats are hanging low.

"I've got your bath running. Sit down," he orders, pointing to the bed.

"Why?" you question, but you're already moving to the bed and plopping down.

"Why do you question everything?" He chuckles. And he is slipping behind you in an instant, his hands instantly moving up to knead at your shoulders.

You can't help the moan you let out. "Fuck, that feels great. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, letting my youngsters beat you up all day."

You can only chortle as his hands move along your back.

"Gonna come out feisty, like you."

"I am not," you argue.

"yeah, okay." He whispers, his hands traveling lower and lower. His hands are gripping your sides firmly as his thumbs massage masterfully into your back.

"Fuck, Lewis." You mewl.

"Feels good?"

"Yeah."

You almost cry as you feel him lifting behind you, but when he pushes you onto your back gently and cradles your legs, the whine in your throat is replaced with a nervous gulp.

His hands caress your thighs, moving up and down expertly, and you bask in the comfort.

"I didn't sleep with her in Canada, never even saw her this year."

"Oh," you murmur with your eyes closed. On the outside, you were calm, but mentally, you were shrieking tears of joy.

"Haven't been sleeping around." He announces again.

When you say nothing, he persists, "Haven't been with anyone since you."

You know Lewis so well that you can predict his face even before you open your eyes.

His voice sounds a bit gravelly and shaky, and you know he's peering up at you through his perfect lashes, waiting to gauge your reaction.

So when you open your eyes and see him hovering over your legs exactly as you imagined, you can only shoot him a purposeful smile.

"I figured. You've spent all of your time with me." You shrug. He nods relief washing over him. In all honesty he was happy that you recognized the switch in him. Recognized that all of his focus was soley on you and your unborn babies, who you've nicknamed belly.

"Five months is a long time to go without sex." You declare, and he bobs his head to the side,

"Not really, not for me. What about you?"

He feels his heart leap with joy at your next words.

"I haven't slept with anyone else since you either. I've gone longer without sex, so five months would've been easier if I wasn't lugging around two hormone gremlins."

You both share a laugh as you motion to your round belly.

"You're suffering then?"

"Suffering like a motherfucker." You huff.

"I can fix that."

You sit up, coming face to face with him; he stares at you intensely. It was your idea, not to mention the night you two had shared, as well as your doing, to solidify the fact that you two would never sleep together again.

However, your emotions were running, and your hormones were at an all-time high, so could anyone really even blame you for pulling his mouth to yours in a searing kiss?

Like the time before, it's like Lewis is ready for you. He pushes you back down, his legs still holding him above you. This time, Lewis takes the initiative, spreading your mouth open and entering like it's home. One of his elbows is being used as leverage to hold him above your bump. His other hand has your jaw in a tight grip, holding you in place.

Your hands are exploring his body. Traveling the expanse of his chest to his back, anything you can reach.

He disconnects his mouth from yours, his head turning towards the bathroom. "Shit, sorry."

He stands, shooting you a sorrowful look as he beelines into the washroom.

When he appears again, he is looking at you with hungry eyes, but his words are so domestic that you are ready to jump his bones.

"Made your bath too hot. Got time to let that cool down."

You smirk at him, beckoning him over. You're both sitting angled towards each other and just as you move forward to touch his lips with your own he is moving his head to the side forcing you to peck the corner of his mouth.

You lean back with furrowed brows. "What was that?"

"I want to clarify something first, this time. So we won't have a repeat of last time."

Damn, you scream to yourself. You were already extremely horny, and now you'd have to sit and listen to him declare that this was a means of pleasure only. Which in return would most likely turn you off. So yay, no life-altering dick for you tonight.

"Go on then." You wave your hand, and Lewis laughs.

"Patience, you horny beast."

You gasp, thumping his head.

"But really, I, um, wanted to let you know this for a while. It's been on my mind even heavier since my birthday."

"Okay,"

"I love you." He blurts, "and not in the conventional friendship way, you're my best friend but I love you more than that. And I have for as long as I could remember."

You feel like you've been freed from hell's gates; everything in you feels so much lighter, so much more merrier.

Like always, when Lewis tries to find the words to say, his head is tilted downwards to the side as he works through what to say. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he can't find it in him to look at you quite yet. He has to say how he feels now, or he'll never say it.

"I'm the man I am today because of you. You've been with me every step of the way. You've never turned your back on me or gotten sick of me; you've been everything I've ever wanted from the beginning. I've tried to fill the void of not having you with other... distractions, should I say. And it never made me forget about you, never made me want you any less, always made me want you even more."

You choke up at his words. This was all you've ever wanted to hear spoken to you.

"I love you and I feel like I have ever since I've been able to have complex emotions. You are my childhood dream. Over the racing and the luxury lifestyle, over anything. I've always wanted you more than anything. I meant every word I said to you on my birthday, and I'm taking accountability now for the argument. I wanted to hear you say that you meant the words you said to me, like I meant the words I said to you. I should have just admitted it. But I didn't, and I was a fool; I regret it every day. But I love you all the same."

He peers up at you through his lashes and through his own teary eyes he can see the tears bubbling over the surface as you poke out your bottom lip in your classic pout.

"Oh, Lew," you whine, wrapping him in such a tender embrace. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words."

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, and you can feel wetness glide down your collar.

You grasp his head in your hands, cupping his cheeks so that you can see him eye to eye.

"I love you," you state. "More than the entire world, I've always told you that, and I've always meant it."

His lips twitch, and his eyes soften. Finally, he breaks into a smile. "How much I love you is unexplainable, Lew. I've been fighting myself forever about it, frustrated that I'd never see anyone like I see you. I've been settling because I thought I couldn't have you. You're all I've ever wanted. And I meant what I said that night, too. I was made for you and only you, always only ever been yours. No one has had my heart but you."

This time, the kiss is passionate and slow. You taste saltiness as you succumb to each other. You separate with a gasp, hand coming down to soothe your stomach. "They're beating me up again." You whisper, watching as their tiny feet nudge against your stomach.

Lewis bends down, pressing pecks to your bulging belly, "Think they're just celebrating."

You watch from above with a loving smile on your face. "My little family." You coo, bringing your hand up to rest in Lewis' hair.

"I'm going to marry you, you know that, right?" Lewis peers up at you.

"I sure would hope so." And you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"They're not stopping." He announces, his hand covering your own on your belly.

"They always get excited when you're close to me." You admit.

His eyes crinkle at your words, and his mouth spreads into a grin.

"I'm happy to be with you guys, too," he coos to your gut, "but we have to let Mama relax, okay." At his words, the thumps from inside of you come to a halt, and you and Lewis marvel at each other.

"Wow," you whisper.

"Come on." He is standing from the bed, holding his hand out for you.

He helps you stand from the bed, gently pulling you into the bathroom.

When you're inside, he faces you towards the mirror. He unclasps the necklace sitting it onto the bathroom counter and slowly his hands travel to your front to untie your robe. It falls off of your shoulders and he proceeds to drag it down your arms and from your body.

You stare at him through the mirror with no shame as he trails his eyes along your body.

"Most beautiful woman in the world." He hums. You're standing in front of him naked as he reaches past you to drop your now discarded robe beside your necklace.

As he does so, he presses lingering kisses to your neck.

He steps back, holding out his arm to direct you into the bathtub.

"Get in with me?" You suggest as you notice him standing off to the side.

Lewis curses himself for feeling like a shy virgin around you every time you even remotely flutter your eyes at him.

"Please." You add submerging yourself into the warm water.

Lewis slips from his sweats, easing into the tub at the other end.

"Remember when we used to have baths together as kids?" You reminisce, blowing a pile of bubbles at him.

Lewis leans back, his arms dangling over the edge. "Simple times."

"You remember when you pooped?" You tease, leaning forward.

Lewis splashes you a tiny bit, bubbles landing on your face. "That was you," he denied.

"Big fat liar." you cackled.

Lewis sees you inching towards him like a tiger on the prowl. You're in his lap before he knows it, your arms locked around his neck. He wraps his own around your waist.

No more words are spoken between you two. You lift your soapy hand and tilt his head up to you, pressing your mouth to his.

Lewis groans into your mouth as you settle over him.

"Want you so bad." You confess, your lips trailing from his mouth to his jaw and down into the crevice of his neck.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, and you smile against his skin as you grip him.

So hard already.

Lewis throws his head back against the porcelain as you wrap your hand around him in a snug grasp.

You're in his ear saying some of the most obscene words he's ever heard as you sit on top of him, tugging him. He can feel your belly rubbing against his, and it's driving him mad.

"Want to make love? Can we do that, Lewis? Make it even better than the last time."

Lewis gasps out his words as you sit back on his legs and use both of your hands to twist and tug on him. He bites on his bottom lip and grips you tighter. "Fuck, yes. Please"

You can only smile at him as you observe his resolve crumbling. You don't stop even as he begins to spasm and continually moan out your name. He grunts one last time before it transforms into a fit of masculine whimpers. He literally falls apart in your hands as you massage him through his release.

"Got another one in you?" You ask, already positioning yourself over him.

He opens his eyes, pupils blown and wild. And then his bitten and swollen lips spread into a dopey smile.

You give him a peck; widening said smile before you line him up at your entrance. The smile is wiped from his face as his facade once again contorts to one of pure pleasure.

You can only gasp and move your grip to his shoulders as you sink onto him inch by inch until you feel him nestled tightly into you.

"Fuck." He groans.

You ease your body up and down over him slowly, he's so fucking big.

You moan as you continue your slow pace. You want to take your time with him. But it was getting increasingly hard feeling that delicious stretch every time you lifted over him.

Lewis hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sank down onto him. He is staring at you like you hung the sun, moon, and the stars yourself.

He uses both of his hands to pull your mouth towards his, "I love you." He breathes into you, pressing passionate pecks onto your lips. He holds your face close to his, maintaining eye contact as you roll over him.

Your mouth drops open as you feel him lift his hips over and over. Between his eyes piercing into you and the slow, languid strokes he's giving you, you weren't sure what would throw you over the edge first.

You moan quietly as you feel the blaze building in your belly. He's so big that it feels like he's entering you for the first time all over again.

You feel inebriated by him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He's still just as vocal as he was the first time, and it's putting you in overdrive.

Lewis is thrusting up into you with a force that has the breath leaving your lips in sharp pants with every re-entry.

Your foreheads fall against each other, both of you watching your bodies drive against the water.

Lewis is lifting you from his lap like you weigh nothing. He turns you around to face the opposite way. You gasp as he pulls your arms up and directs you to hold onto the end of the tub in front of you. You're on your knees, arms holding your upper body out of the water. You feel his knees slide in between your spread legs, and his hands caress up and down your wet back.

One hand settles on your shoulder, the other on your waist, and then he is sliding into you slowly. You hang your head, letting out a deep breath, "fuck." you cry out as he strokes at such a deliberately slow momentum.

As he pushes into you, his grip on your shoulders forces you back at the same time. He's going so slow but getting so deep that it has you tightening your grip.

When he hits your spot, you lurch forward.

He pulls you back onto him, his hand tightening against your waist.

"Don't run. Stay with me." He orders, his voice is deep and raspy. "This what you wanted, remember?"

You nod your head, eyes closing shut as your thighs quiver. "Oh god."

"Want to make you feel better." He moans. "I was waiting for you to let me see this pretty pussy again." He hums, and you feel his hands spread you apart.

"So fucking pretty, so tight."

It was like he was tormenting you, giving you an inch and then taking a mile every time he pushed into you slowly just to have you wallowing for more when he pulled himself out.

"You're being greedy, mama." He chuckles as you push yourself back onto him. "take what you want then."

At his words, you begin to swivel your hips back at a much quicker pace, feeling his pelvis brush against your ass with every motion.

"C'mon, take it." he grunts. "that's right, want it so bad."

You pull yourself forward, only to spiral back into him repeatedly. Lewis is a mess behind you, his hands reaching up to hold his braids from his face. He kneels there and allows you to use his body in any way you please.

He takes in an unsteady breath when you tighten around him. As you drag your pussy over him, he feels himself being tugged with you. "So tight." he moans, "don't even wanna let me go."

He pulls you up by your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, and begins hammering into you over and over. One hand travels to your throat, and his grip is temperate.

"All you needed, huh? Feel better already?"

You nod your head, yes, head falling back onto his shoulder. He pummels into you stroke after stroke until he feels it. You constrict around him, hands coming to grip his arm, and you moan his name over and over.

He doesn't show you any mercy. He keeps up his fast pace as you writhe in his arms. His head falls, and as he feels himself come undone, he bites down on your shoulder with a growl that lights your body on fire all over again. You feel him spurt into you, and you whine as he nestles himself into your core further.

After a while, Lewis pulls himself from your gut with a hiss. He reaches down and unplugs the drain. He sits, spreading his legs and pulling you in between them. When you're nestled against his chest, he sighs, once again placing his hand on your neck to angle your face towards his. He places a sensual kiss on your lips before letting you go with a smile.

"Should I run us a bath, or do you want to hop in the shower for a quick wash?"

You turn to the left, observing the standing shower, and you scoff. "you've ruined my legs, Lew; I couldn't stand in there if I wanted."

"Bath it is." He grins, already reaching for the knobs.

"Plus, I want to sit with you like this for a while. Bask in this."

"I love you," he expresses, "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

Spoiler alert: he never did. As the days went on and turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and Lewis never changed his affections. You two were in a constant honeymoon phase, which you were sure was permanent.

You two were perfect for each other in every sense and made each other whole.

The dynamics that made you two the perfect friends bled over into your relationship, and things were flawless, to say the least.

Until, you felt a popping feeling and then a gush of water fall between your legs. Lewis was on his way home from the airport having left to race in Singapore he was relieved that he'd be back three days before your expected due date.

But when he gets a call from his best friend and hears your cranky voice in the background, his heart hammers with nerves.

"Miles, I swear to fucking god," he hears you groan. "if he doesn't have his high yellow ass to the hospital before I push these goddamn babies out of me, I will kill him. Tell him I will kill him."

"You heard her, man," Miles stammers. He hears commotion over the phone, and he gives up his useless attempts to grab either of your attention.

"Oi Miles!" He hears a slap in the background. "Oh my fucking god," you cry out. "Where is Whit? I don't want your help, fucking men."

Miles reappears on the screen; he looks disheveled and like he's just been in a cat fight, "Hey, brother." he pants. "I'm trying here, just how far are you?"

"Lewis leans forward, seeing his ETA on his driver's screen. "Only ten minutes. Is she okay?" His voice is full of concern, and Miles squawks.

"Brother, ten minutes is too long. She just absolutely beat my ass for putting the wrong treats in the bag. There are a million gummies in here. How am I sup-"

"Gushers, Miles. On the top shelf of the pantry behind the rice cakes."

"Why the hell are there gushers behind rice cakes?" He cries out, rushing to the pantry. Lewis sees you in the background as Miles breezes by.

You stand in the middle of the living room face set in a pout one hand grasping the a bag of organic gummies and the other holding your phone to your ear.

"Whit!" He hears you cry out, "I'm about to have these fucking babies alone with fucking Miles! Fucking Miles! And he gives me fucking Annes organic fruit snacks, Whitney! Why the fuck would I want organic candy? And Lew hid the gushers, and he's not going to be here in time, and I don't know where he put them."

Miles drops his jaw, halting his reach for the treats. "Hey, I'm trying my best! I want the best for you and my godchildren. I'm trying here!"

"Your trying isn't enough; obviously, I need the god mom. Whit! Fucking men, can't even find my fucking candy." You call out again.

"Ugh- did she just stomp away from me."

The call disconnects, and Lewis lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls into his neighborhood. He rushes out of the car, running up the steps of you guys' home. When he enters the foyer, he rushes to where he saw you last on the phone. Only you're not standing in the living room in distress. It's Miles slumped onto the couch with a family pack of gushers in his lap. He notices the two gusher wrappers beside his friend, and he storms up to him, snatching the box and slapping the side of his head.

"Where's my baby?"

"Upstairs, y'all are going to learn how to appreciate me one day. I'm the godfather to your children-"

Lewis smacks his teeth, rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom. He sees you lugging your baby bag onto the bed, and he rushes over to you, pulling it from your grasp.

"Hey bunny, I'm here."

Your lip wobbles as you look up at him, and you let out a relieved cry. Lewis opens his arms to embrace you, and you quickly pull the box from his hands, stuffing it into your bag.

"I was looking for these." You cried.

Lewis, used to your pregnant shenanigans, allows you to cry tears of relief for the sudden appearance of your after-labor treat. It's all you'd been asking for for weeks, but your doctor had you on a strict diet.

"Bunny," he persists, his arms open. You sniffle, stepping into his embrace.

"How are you feeling?"

"My vagina hurts, and I was scared you weren't going to make it."

He chuckles, holding you close to him, "always going to make it when it comes to you guys."

It's safe to say your mood didn't get any better when you made it to the hospital.

Lewis was by your side as you held onto his hand for dear life.

"Baby," he coos, "you're doing great."

"Oh my god," you wince, pulling your hand from his as you clutch the sheets. "Get the fuck away from me."

He looks baffled as you curse up a storm.

Lewis takes a step back only to be nudged forward again by the doctor. "Trust me, she'll murder you if you get away from her."

He holds onto your hand again, using the towel to wipe the sweat from your hairline.

Even now as you take in deep breaths and hang your head like you're about to die, Lewis think you are beautiful. You're glistening with sweat and throwing out words that would make a pastor faint but you're still beautiful with your freshly done birthing braids and bewildered face.

"Oh fuck this! Count the shit, measure the shit, whatever, and check again. I don't care if I'm not dilated enough; make it enough! Get these babies out of me."

You were regretting your decision to go all-natural as another contraction rippled through you. You let go of the sheet and grasp Lewis' hand again.

You look up to him, and he is staring at you in pure adoration. "I promise, you've got this." He encourages.

You feel tears of relief pool as your doctor let's out a direct order. "And we're there, when I get to three you push, okay."

You only nod as Lewis crouches down, "Push like hell, bunny."

You don't count how many times you hear him count to three or how many agonizing pushes you give until you hear the first cry. You're momentarily distracted as you watch them hold your baby into the air.

"Come on, Mom, got to keep going," your doctor orders.

You exhale, taking another deep breath as you push again. Lewis remains by your side, holding your hand and coaxing you through the pain.

"You're doing so great, bunny. So proud of you. We're about to meet our babies; we just have to push a little bit more."

His words are all you need to get through another insufferable ninety seconds before you hear an even louder cry.

Lewis kisses the top of your head as you fall back in exhaustion. "So proud of you, baby, hmm. I love you."

You're no longer the angry woman you were twenty minutes ago. You're looking up at Lewis with tired eyes that still glow with love and excitement.

"Baby boy came first." Your doctor hums settling him on one side of your chest, Another nurse comes forward settling your second baby on the oposite side. "And his sister came to stake her territory after."

You cry out, but it comes out in the form of a laugh. Your hands come up to hold both of your babies against your chest. Lewis crouches down, eyeing you three in amazement.

"My beautiful family."

He places a kiss atop each head, watching as they instantly settle down amongst your warm body.

You've never felt so much love in your life. You think back to all of the times you felt you were destined to be alone, all of the times you craved for someone to love you unconditionally. You gave up hope that you'd find it in a partner, so a baby was all you craved. But here you were with a man who loved you more than it was possible for love to exist. Here you were with two products of that love.

You order the nurse to remove one of the railings so the Lewis can nestle in beside you. The doctor suggest for him to remove his shirt and he does so quickly, gently sliding beside you. You motion for him to grab the babygirl and he eases her onto his chest with ease. You peck his head as you watch the tears glide down his face.

"I just love you all so much." he cries.

And you know exactly how he feels as you two bask in the moment.

You think back to the moment that made this all possible, laying in Lewis' bed as the words leave his mouth, "It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you."

Looking at your two babies, you could tell they each were going to represent a part of both of you. As your daughter lets out constant noises, Lewis turns to you with knowing eyes, "Just like her mama." Your son's eyes pop open at the sound of his sister, and you coo, "Brother bear."

"Do we have names ready?" The doctor hums.

y/u/n

liked by fencer, champagnepapi, and 2,786,901 others

y/u/n I want to share this love I found with everyone. you deserve to meet my happy family after all of this time. Of all of the things that I wanted to be, being a mother was always my true calling. It's not easy, but it's worth it. To my babies, mommy loves you always; when the world is cruel, and your heart makes you feel like a fool, know that I will be there always. To LJ, my daring little boy, I see your father in everything you do; you will always be my baby bear, so strong and courageous, but with a mind so strong and a heart so big, you're forever unstoppable. My baby, Giana, Gigi girl, you came into the world demanding to be heard. You're fierce and bold in all of the best ways. Already, I admire the way you think and the things I know you will do. You heal a part of me I didn't know needed healing. You're my favorite girls girl, I love listening to you yap puppy, I love that you love talking to me. Always stand your ground, girly; never dull your light or lower your voice for anyone or anything. If no one listens, know I will. And to the love of my life, who has given me everything I could've ever wanted, plus more. You've outdone yourself, Lew; there aren't enough words to articulate how much I love you. Still my best friend, soon to be my husband, forever and always, the love of my life <3

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lewishamiton I can never think you enough for all that you've given to me. I love you more than life bunny. ❤️

user okay but the family of crochet animals. PUPPY? BEAR? CHEETAH? BUNNYYYY? 🥲

whitwhit still so proud of you mama ❤️

y/u/n the best god mommy in the world! I love you.

landonorris Mother🤰🏽Literally. Beautiful souls, even more beautiful children.

y/u/n love love love you Lando

user i always knew they'd get together one day, my happy heart!

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, mercedesamg, and 7,796,801 others

lewishamilton Thank you will never be enough for all that has been given to me. I love you, bunny, and every time I think it's impossible to feel more than that, you prove me wrong. To the rest of our lives together, to our children, and to the life I've had with you. We're in this together, forever. Daddy loves you, LJ, and Gigi, forever here, forever loving you.

charles_leclerc So happy for you man!

sebastianvettel never have you been happier man, congratulations.

user you mean to tell me that all of this time we thought he was uncle lew and whole time HE'S THE PAPPYYYY

lewishamilton like these are my kids, that my son. I was so bothered by that ngl. THEY LOOK JUST LIKE ME.

user you tell us not to assume and then when we don't assume you want us to assume what do you want from us sir?!?!

so this is the end that's not the end, I'll most likely make blurbs for their future 🌚

hope you enjoyed it.

not proofread sorry for any mistakes I was rushing honey

@barcelonaloverf1life @mitruscity

#lewis hamilton imagine #formula 1 #f1 #black reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black reader #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #poc reader #lewis hamilton x reader #oh baby part 3 #oh baby mini series

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strawnarrries · 7 months

Text

We Fight, We Make Up

Summary: Harry gets turned on when you yell at him.

Requested: Nope

POV: 2nd

Word count: 3.4k

Warning(s): Unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight spanking

The argument happened before the night even started. You didn't even wanna go. You wanted to stay in the hotel with your husband. Alone. Without having to share him with anyone else. Recently, you have been missing him. Yes, you see him every day and fall asleep with him every night; but you felt like you had to share him with the entire world. When he wasn't on stage in front of his thousands of fans, he was either at the gym or working with his team, writing new songs, and talking about new plans.

Tonight was one of his rare nights off and of course, he and his team wanted to go out. He wanted you to go with him and you did, but you were grumpy from the moment he brought it up to the moment you're at with him now.

You were arguing while you got ready. Harry didn't understand where you were coming from. You were on tour with him. You were with him every day, went everywhere that he went, and got to sleep next to him every night. He thought you were being a bit needy and selfish. He didn't say that to you of course, but he definitely voiced that he thought you were being irrational.

Once you had met everyone in the hotel lobby, you both put on your brave faces, not wanting to draw any attention to your problems. You tried to forget about your current struggles and have fun while you could. Neither of you drank that much. You just were not in the mood and Harry had a show the next day. It was only occasional that he would drink while on tour, but never when he had a show the next day.

Once the night was over, the argument continued.

"Y/N, baby, I dunno what you want me to do. We're on tour, this is my work. I can't spend every second with you."

"Oh my god, Harry. You know I'm not asking you to spend every second with me. I just want some alone time with you. I told you I feel like I have to share you with everyone and never get any time just you and me."

"But we do get alone time. We got a whole room to ourselves. I give you a cuddle while we fall asleep every night. Why is that not enough?"

"It's not about being enough. It's about me feeling like you're not prioritizing me or wanting to spend any time with me."

"This is the first tour that you've been able to come with me for every show. This is what it's like. I don't get alone time. This is my job. I can't just drop it all to spend time with you."

You were starting to get angry, "You don't work every hour of the day! Tonight - I told you beforehand that I didn't wanna go and I wanted to stay here with you but you wanted to go out instead."

"Well, yeah because I've got a night off and wanted to have fun with everyone."

"Exactly! Everyone. You didn't wanna spend time with me. You spend time with them every fucking day and the one day you have off you choose to be with them."

"Y/N, you-" he started before you cut him off, your voice raising in frustration, "Harry, you're my fucking husband! I shouldn't have to beg you to spend time with just me!"

All of a sudden, a cheeky, slightly evil smirk arose on his lips and his eyes scanned your body up and down. It was very rare that you got angry when you argue with him, you usually just get really sad. Your disagreements are usually quiet and filled with tears. It was your least favorite thing to do. You hated having serious conversations with Harry and couldn't help but cry when they happened. Harry was a sympathetic cryer so when you cried, he cried. In the 10 years that you and Harry have been together, you only yelled at him in an argument probably 4 times. So, he found this moment quite amusing.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?"

"I'm not," he chuckled looking up at your angry eyes.

He kept that smirk on his lips as he stared at you deeply, your blood beginning to boil as a breathy giggle left his lips.

"Oh my god, I'm so sick of this," you snapped, turning around and getting ready to storm into the bathroom.

"Y/N, stop."

He was quick to grab your arm, pulling him into you and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from running from him. Placing both hands on his hips, you glared up at him, "What?"

He didn't reply, his eyes bore into yours while he was pushing your hips against his, jutting his out to show you exactly what he was feeling. You could feel his tight bulge straining in his slacks against your pelvis and you could not believe what was happening.

"You're hard?" you replied as your lips mindlessly curved up in amusement, "Why?"

"Dunno, you rarely yell at me when we argue. It's kinda sexy," he replied, his voice slow and deep.

"What?" You were the one laughing now, "You're not supposed to get turned on. You're supposed to get pissed at me."

"I am pissed at you. But you're fuckin' cute when you get angry." He looked you up and down once more before adding, "Might be this outfit too."

"Oh my gosh, I wanna be mad at you so bad because of this but I'm really amused."

"Are we about to have angry sex?"

You didn't even answer him. You immediately pulled him down by the back of his neck and attacked his lips with yours. He kissed you back, moving in sync with you. His tongue caressed your lips, tasting you as you backed him up against the edge of the bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he immediately sat down, pulling you with him. Pulling your dress up past your hips so you could spread your legs, you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your ass, cupping and squeezing it.

You continued to kiss him, making out like you were teenagers. Your kisses were fast and sloppy, your panties dampening as you ground your hips against his center. You ran your fingers through his dark hair, tugging at the soft strands gently. You felt your clit throbbing in anticipation and you knew you couldn't wait too long before he filled you up.

Your hands frantically slid down his body, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You had been so upset with him, you had overlooked how good he looked tonight. He wore a white button-up, only having the bottom two buttons tied together to show off his tanned, tattooed chest. He paired it with a pair of black slack pants and white loafers that he had slipped off the moment you got back to your room. He had his famous cross and phallic banana necklaces on and had rings lined on almost every one of his fingers.

You slid his top off of his shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. His glistening skin and dark tattoos were now on full display for you. You ran your fingernails across his body, feeling every inch of his torso that you could reach. You continued to grind your center against his, circling your hips so his bulge rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit.

"I want you so bad," he breathed out and you hummed against his lips in agreement.

His fingertips grabbed onto the hem of your silky dress and pulled it up over your head, tossing it with his shirt. Your lips only parted to pull the dress off, immediately attaching again once you were exposed to him. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your strapless bra with ease, letting it fall onto your lap. After grabbing it and tossing it, his hands cupped both breasts and kneaded them harshly.

His kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking at all your sweet spots. You let your head fall to the side to give him more access and hummed in satisfaction. His lips trailed even further down until they latched onto your right breast. He sucked at your nipple, hand still kneading your left one. Flicking his tongue back and forth against your bud, your back arched into him. Nibbling on it, you whimpered and he pulled away, giving your other breast the same amount of attention.

Returning back to your lips, he tugged on the band of your panties, acknowledging that he wanted them off. You stood up in between his legs and pulled your panties down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. While you did that, he unbuttoned the button on his pants, lifted his hips, pushed them down his thighs, and pulled them off his legs.

Both of you were now completely naked and exposed to each other. You straddled his lap again and he reached down between your bodies, sliding his fingers between your folds to feel your wetness. He groaned softly as his middle finger and ring finger slipped past your opening with ease. You mimicked his moan when his fingers began to move in and out of you, the coldness of his peace ring and his pearl ring sending chills up your spine.

"Jesus, Y/N, I'm so fuckin' horny right now," he groaned desperately.

"I need you inside me," you whimpered into his ear, equally as desperate, "right now, Harry, please."

"C'mere," he hummed.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up. Turning around, he laid you down on the sheets with your hips at the edge of the bed while standing in between your spread legs. He grasped onto both of your ankles and hooked them around his shoulders. Wrapping his right palm around his member, he wasted no time and immediately positioned his swollen tip at your entrance, sliding in while he hovered over you. You both let out moans at the euphoric feeling of him filling you up. He stilled inside of you, allowing you a minute to adjust to his size. His forehead rested against yours and he grunted softly when he felt you clench around him.

Leaning back up, he grabbed onto each of your thighs to ground you. Not holding anything back, he began thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Knew every single one of your sweet spots and every single movement that made you putty in his hands.

His thighs slapped against yours and your breasts bobbed with each hard thrust of his hips. Your orgasm was quickly starting to grow closer and you found yourself clenching around him each time his tip brushed up against your good spot. Your face contorted with pleasure and you tightly gripped the sheets below you.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered softly, "Harry, yes!"

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted in between stagged breaths, "Just wanted me to fuck you like this?"

His fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs, most likely leaving marks for you to complain about the next morning. The bed squeaked under you and you knew the backs of your thighs were quickly turning bright red with the repetitive slapping. It was purely a pornographic scene and you were in complete and utter bliss.

"Answer me."

"Yes, yes," you chanted, "I needed this so bad. Needed you, Harry."

Lifting your head slightly, you looked down and watched as he disappeared in and out of you. He was slick with you, sparkling against the light in the room. You could physically hear how wet you are for him. His movements intensify that sound with each thrust. You let your head fall back down to the bed and look up at him. He's looking down between your bodies, watching what you were just watching. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his jaw hung slack as he breathed irregularly.

You watched as his muscles clenched with each thrust, a sheen layer of sweat beginning to form on his skin, glittering his tattoos. You let your eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure grew. You felt his left hand leave your thigh and immediately grasp onto your breast, squeezing it and allowing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch at your nipples.

Without warning, he wrapped his hands around your sides and flipped you over so you were on your belly. He tapped your hip gently, acknowledging you to sit up. Resting your elbows on the sheets to support your body, you stuck your ass up in the air for him, leaning back and pressing into him. He positioned at your entrance again and started back up where he had left off.

The sound of his skin slapping and your wetness continued to echo loudly throughout the room and if he wasn't making you feel so damn good right now, you would be worried about people outside the room hearing.

"Talk to me. This is exactly what you fuckin' wanted so tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"No," you whimpered, trying to get a rise out of him, "you don't love me anymore."

"Say that one more time and I'll spank you 'till you cry," he grunted.

You grinned at his words. You knew he wouldn't actually spank you until you cried, but you wanted to challenge him, "I'm not wrong."

His hand swatted at the fullest part of your ass and you squealed at the slight sting, his rings he never took off intensifying that sting. He never spanked you super hard, just enough to get you to straighten up when you were being sassy with him.

"Wanna try me again?"

"You never give me attention anymore."

Another spank landed across your ass and you moaned, his hand massaging the area to soothe the sting, "You're such a brat. You're asking for it now, aren't you?"

After one more smack against your skin, he grunted and his thrusts came to an abrupt stop. You were about to protest but then felt his big hands collecting your hair. He switched all of it to one hand, holding it up into a ponytail. He tugged on it, pulling your head back so that he could easily lean down to nip at your ear lobe and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips. Using his free hand, he grabbed onto your hip again and began thrusting.

"Want me all to yourself all the fuckin' time, huh?" he growled into your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

"You're mine," you moaned, "Don't like sharing you."

"Fuckin' selfish is what you are," he grunted in your ear, "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

You moaned in response, breath hitching in your throat before he continued, "Got people wanting my attention left and right and you only want me for yourself. I can see why though, with how good I make you feel. Not once have I ever failed to have you fuckin' trembling under me, babe."

"You're such a fucking narcissist," you grunted, words coming out strangled.

He chuckled deeply, biting on the shell of your ear, "It's the sole reason why you married me, innit? 'cause of how easy I can get you to scream my name?"

"Fuck off," you groaned and he chuckled again, loving how he got to you.

"Got the sexiest girl in the world to be my wife. How can I not be narcissistic?"

"Mmm," you whimpered, ignoring him, "Want more."

"More? Am I not giving you enough right now?"

"No, gimme more."

"Greedy, greedy girl. You're my greedy girl though, that right?"

You hummed in agreement as he let go of your hair, your head immediately hanging low. With both hands now on your hips, fingertips gripping your skin tightly, he changed his rhythm. Fast and hard. Exactly what you wanted right now.

"I'll give you whatever you want. Got me wrapped around your little finger."

"Obviously not, or else we wouldn't be in this situation right now," you grunted in sync with the smack of his hips against yours.

"Still mad at me, huh?"

"Just shut up and make me cum," you groaned.

You heard him chuckle behind you as he kept his rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. His thighs smacked against yours and the sound echoed throughout your hotel room. Your breath was hitched in your throat, your face contorted with pleasure and your jaw slack as moans occasionally escaped when your hitched breath allowed.

He got so deep inside you, hitting your special spot just underneath where your clit was located with each thrust of his powerful hips. His fingers were gripping your hips tightly, nails carving crescent moon shapes within your skin. Your clenched around him and you could feel every inch of him moving against your walls.

"Oh, Harry," you whimpered into the sheets and Harry's heart swelled as he noticed how much you needed this. How much you needed him.

With the length of his thrusts shortening and pace only slowing down slightly, he leaned down and pressed his back against yours, cupping your waist to pull him into you.

"Haven't been giving you the attention you deserve, have I, baby?" he grunted into your ear, words in sync with his thrusts.

"Mm mm," you whimpered, his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

"Been neglecting my favorite person in the world. My beautiful wife, fuck, I love you so much."

You couldn't even reply. Your voice wouldn't let you, the only thing you could get out was moans of pure pleasure by not only him inside of you, but also him finally giving you exactly what he wanted. His hands slid up your torso and gripped your breasts, squeezing them as his thumbs flicked over your nipples. You could tell he was close by the way his member twitched inside of you, his strangled moans, and the feeling of his face contorting against your back.

"Need you to cum, baby." he breathed out, "I can't cum if you don't cum first."

"I need-" you began and it was like he read your mind, fingers heading straight for your throbbing clit and rubbing it side to side vigorously, causing you to breathe out, "Yeah."

It didn't take much longer before your body became numb with pleasure. You were trembling, screaming into the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white with how hard you were gripping the covers. Harry continued his movements to carry you through your orgasm, causing it to pulse through you in waves, euphoria completely clouding your mind.

You came down from your high with heavy breaths, the continued stimulation from his thrusts sending a new wave of pleasure over you. When it became too much, you whimpered and he pulled out, groaning painfully, "Where do you want me?"

"My back," you breathed out.

You laid down on your stomach and moved all your hair to your front, while he continued to pump himself to keep his orgasm from falling. Once you were in position, he pressed one knee to the bed to angle himself above you. It was only seconds before you felt the warm feeling of him painting your back with his creamy release, your jaw falling slack. Moans of pleasure fell from his lips as he worked himself through his orgasm, pleasure consuming his body just as it did you only seconds earlier.

Once he had milked the last of his orgasm, he immediately got up to grab a few tissues to clean you off.

"You okay, babe?" he asked while wiping the tissue across your skin.

"Mhm," you hummed in response, ready to just fall asleep in his arms.

Throwing away the soiled tissue, he stated, "All done."

You turned over onto your side and he laid down next to you, pulling you into him, breathing out, "Didn't lie when I said I always get you trembling under me, huh?"

You rolled your eyes teasingly at him, "You're so annoying."

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. We still need to talk though. The problem didn't just go away 'cause you're good in bed."

He chuckled deeply, "Can we talk tomorrow? Just wanna hold you right now."

"Yeah, lemme go to the bathroom then we can go to bed," you replied as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom.

"Love you, sexy," he teased, landing a soft smack across the curve of your ass as you got up.

You giggled, "I love you too."

1K notes · View notes

gucciwins · 8 months

Text

don't know where we're going

Harry invites Y/N on tour as his opening artist...he wasn't expecting to fall in love

Word count: 26,709

A/N: hola mis amores 💜 here is this new story for you. it might have been a long time but I promise I will always come back. come talk to me about the new story

Warnings: smut (female pleasure)

Love on Tour had come to an end. The final show was here tonight in Italy, and Y/N was excited. Her band had shared they couldn’t sleep or eat from their nerves, but Y/N felt at ease. She had always felt at home on stage. Tonight would be no different.

When Y/N’s mother realized her daughter loved to sing, she put on even more musicals for her to watch and sing along to. Y/N’s mother, Reina, never got tired of her daughter’s voice, and with her encouragement, Y/N began to play in bars, anywhere that would give her the time and space. A producer one day approached her after doing two songs in a coffee shop, telling her she had a chance to make it. He handed her a card and made her promise she’d call. She almost didn’t.

Her mother gave her the courage to call, and her life changed. They got her time in the studio, where she got to present her ideas and songs. The team supported her, and from then on, Y/N Y/LN became a person to be on the lookout for. She had writing sessions with Julia Michaels that allowed her to learn that not only did she have the liberty to write everything she felt but that with experience comes inspiration. As she began to record, she knew she had to think about the future of a tour. Not soon after, she met her guitarist Felix at a sports bar, where they bonded over their mutual love for Formula One. Felix introduced her to June, who became her drummer, and their bassist is Quinn, June’s brother.

The venues Y/N had booked out always surprised her because, despite its small capacity, every show was always sold out. Her first single blew through the charts; it got her name out there. Her first tour around the UK was a success and allowed her to begin playing festivals. Y/N was happy with how her life turned out and had no idea it could improve.

Y/N loved her job. She loved being on stage and connecting with fans. She loved touring with her favorite people. She lived a comfortable life doing what she loved. Y/N had a large fanbase, not popstar sensation fame, but it’s not what she was searching for. It was why she had to think about her answer when she found out the biggest pop star of her generation wanted her to open up for his final leg in Europe. It didn’t make sense because Y/N clearly knew about Harry Styles. She didn’t know he knew about her.

He’s a big fan.

Zane Lowe played him a song, and he was hooked.

Harry saw you play one night and has followed you ever since.

The exposure would be good for you.

Harry would like to meet with you before you make a choice.

The choice was clear for everyone but Y/N. She had never met the man, and while the pay would be incredible, she wasn’t willing to go on tour with someone she did not get on with. The meeting with Harry turns out to be a success. He comes in full of smiles, a bit bashful when his manager points out how big a fan he is. Harry doesn’t deny it; it makes her trust him because he’s genuinely a fan of her music, and she admires that. Y/N returns the compliment, stating that she learned to play “Fine Line” on the piano because it was her favorite. Her manager Zahra shared that she cried when she first heard it because she wished she had written the song. Harry blushed at the compliment while Y/N tried to brush past it. Thankfully, Harry was polite and thanked her. While everyone got to work on paperwork, it gave Y/N a moment to speak with Harry alone. Y/N started the conversation because Harry sat there quietly, simply enjoying observing her.

“Thank you for the opportunity. My band and I are excited,” she expressed.

Harry grins, “thank you for agreeing.”

“I hear stadiums are what you’ll likely be sticking to.”

“Scared,” he teased.

Y/N shrugs, “I never imagined singing in front of that capacity if I’m honest. I think it’s easier because no one will be there for me.”

“I will be. Will watch every night,” he promises.

Y/N waves him off, “wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“Didn’t think you were. I hope we share the stage one day, maybe sing a song together.”

“If we make it to the end of this, you can come out during my set,” she teases.

“It would be my honor.”

That was the start of Harry and Y/N’s friendship.

Y/N loved playing dress up. On stage, she got to wear whatever she wanted. It’s a big reason she enjoyed seeing what Harry would pick each night. Y/N loved spinning, and the perfect accessory to do so was a skirt, specifically a mini skirt. She remembers thrifting in a little shop in Dublin, where she found the perfect pink mini, and from there, it became part of who she was. From baby tees to oversized cargo pants to skirts, the one constant was the platforms that always gave her that extra height.

Y/N knew she had to honor her mother each night she was on stage, and because the earliest memory Y/N has is sitting in front of the mirror as her mother tied ribbons and bows in her hair, she made it a tradition to keep them in. Y/N swore she had one that fit all of her outfits, and if it didn’t, she didn’t mind getting her scissors and cutting up a bit of clothing.

She is now a few shows in and is having the time of her life. Y/N gets to play her music every night and enjoys seeing Harry perform. Then, she ends each night by discussing her favorite parts with Harry. Y/N doesn’t remember how it happened, but Y/N doesn’t go to sleep unless she has spoken to Harry; by now, it’s part of her routine. The friendship she is building with him makes her feel at ease on stage each night. One night, they talked about their inspiration, and Y/N told him she was inspired by all around her. From her friends to movies to even books she has read. She wrote “Another Love” based on Gus and January, a couple from a book she read. It’s easy to be inspired because she lets every bit of emotion change her.

“Your music is sad,” Harry tells her one night.

Y/N frowns, “excuse me.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I’m leaving,” she goes to stand up, but he stops her by holding onto her wrist.

“Hear me out,” he pleads. She settles deeper into her seat. “I enjoy it. I think it’s the best music I have ever heard, and it’s so sad because it’s your real emotions and reactions. You’re putting your heart out there; sometimes the sadness wins out.”

Y/N knows he’s right, but that doesn’t mean she has to say that. “Well, you’re always horny.”

Harry burst out laughing, “fair.”

“I’d never sing about watermelons with you,” she fakes disgust.

Harry’s interest has now peaked. “What would you sing?”

“Fine line, but not with you. I’d add it to my setlist if I was on tour now.”

Harry didn’t know she really loved a song like that. “That’s–wow. Thank you.”

“Realistically, I’d do Daylight. She's a bop.”

Y/N laughs when she sees Harry nodding. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he promises.

At the following show, Y/N kept thinking back to what Harry said about how her music carries a sadness. She doesn’t mean to, but it’s the type of melodies that soothe her. It’s clear from the fanbase she has created that her fans also like it.

“Mr. Styles says I have sad music as if he didn’t write Matilda,” she teases. “Kidding, we all know Cherry is his saddest song. While some songs are sad, you can still dance to them, so this is “Sorry.” Please sing if you know it. If not, that’s okay too.”

Harry greets her when she walks off stage. “Did you enjoy that, boss man?” Y/N’s running on a high; all she wants to do is spend time with Harry, but he has to get ready.

“You’re my favorite part of every show,” he tells her genuinely.

Y/N feels her face heat up, but she knows where this could head and decides to stay clear. She pats his shoulder and walks away. “Good luck, Harry,” she calls out as she turns the corner, leaving Harry standing alone, wondering how he’d work up the courage to ask Y/N out.

Another day, another show. Except today, Y/N saw a familiar face and had to bring it up.

“I’ve seen you before. You look very pretty.” Y/N compliments the fan with a black baby tee with bedazzled cherries and glitter pants. “You’re coming to the shows because of me,” Y/N repeated, shocked. “But it’s the Harry Styles show!” Y/N leans closer, listening to the fan share that she’s their favorite artist. The fan had traveled from Iceland to be here tonight because it’s the only place she managed to get tickets. Then, she decided to try attending as many shows as possible before returning home. Y/N felt so much gratitude, making her want to hug this person. While Y/N couldn’t jump down, she thought of the next best thing. “Do you want to sing this one with me? Can we do that?” Y/N looks side-stage at her tour manager, and she’s shaking her head in disappointment, but no one is stopping her. “Come on up.” The fan is helped over the barricade and guided upstairs to meet her. Y/N hugs the fan tightly, thanking her for everything, and Y/N tells her she hopes to see her in the crowd again. “Everyone, this is Sasha! She’s part of the band tonight. Now, Sasha, do you know ‘The Band and I,’” Y/N checks.

“Word for word,” Sasha assures her.

“Wonderful, you’re all in for a treat. Hit it, Junie!” Y/N shouts.

Walking off the stage that night, Y/N is flying on a high. She smiles with the band; she sees Harry leaning against a wall with a smirk. “Breaking all the rules, huh, almost gave Jeff a heart attack.”

Y/N grimaces, “am I in trouble?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I enjoyed it, and I'm the boss. So no.”

She sighs in relief, “I-I just felt grateful. This is your tour,” she emphasizes. “And for the fan to enjoy my music and know the lyrics to a song I wrote, which I haven’t officially released yet, overwhelmed me. Playing in front of an audience has always been my dream, but having my lyrics sung back to me is not something I ever let myself imagine.”

Harry smiles, and she knows he understands. He doesn’t have to say a word. His eyes say it all for her. Y/N is thankful she joined this tour, and while she admires Harry, she knows she can’t forget to keep her boundaries up because she knows they will only begin to fall with time.

It was early March when Harry changed their relationship. Y/N enjoyed time with her band, but sometimes she needed to be alone. She used the time to write or simply enjoy the silence, even for a few minutes. Harry offered her a private space where he kept his piano. He traveled everywhere with it, and while Y/N thought it was a hassle, she was grateful because it allowed her to play with melodies she had stuck in her head.

Today was no different. She had spent an hour alone when Harry walked in on her, seemingly just as lost in his head. He was startled when he looked up and found her sitting in an old hoodie of her first merch ever created.

“Cute,” he comments.

Y/N shrugs, “I know you want one.”

“Desperately.”

She doesn’t know if he’s continuing the bit but decides she will have her mother bring one to her at Wembley for him. It would be her home show, so her mother would be in attendance.

“Anything new?” He gestures to the piano and her open notebook. Y/N hands it to him, allowing him to have a look inside. There are more music notes than there are lyrics. She has the perfect melody, but words seem hard to find right now. “Care to play it for me?”

Y/N loves that he always asks. They both know how private the writing process can be, but with Harry, it’s clear they have built a level of trust. Y/N starts slow on the keys before building up until, by the end reaches the slow start. Harry grins at her, and Y/N can see he likes it. She knows he plays the piano, but she’s never had the chance to watch him play; he’s more reserved compared to her. It’s not something she minds. It just means they both have boundaries they won’t cross and respects that.

“It was beautiful,” he tells her after a few seconds. She thanks him softly, shutting her notebook and knows she has to head out to get ready.

“Y/N, I-I really like having you on tour.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s truly an amazing environment to work in. Even if you do need a few more ladies in your crew.”

Harry laughs but agrees. He knows she speaks from experience where most of his technicians are men. Y/N has a more diverse crew. It is an industry that works to break down women. It's nice to see how she always lifts everyone up. He didn’t realize how, over time, his feelings grew for Y/N. He went from seeing her every few days to speaking to her every night before bed. She brings him a comfort he did not know he was missing. Y/N had become the best part of his day, from watching her perform on stage to their nightly talks. He wanted to spend all his free time with her, so he chose to be honest with her about his feelings.

“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” Harry asked softly.

Y/N turned to him, a gentle smile on her face that helped calm his nerves the tiniest bit. He was worried it would not go his way because there were times he gave her a compliment, and she always brushed it away. He always greeted her with a hug, but she always turned it into a one-second side hug. He didn’t know if that was because he made her nervous or she simply didn’t like hugs, although he’d seen her hug her bandmates. Heck, he’s seen them all squished on a couch together.

Harry takes a deep breath; he wants to look away from her, her gaze making him nervous, but the comfort he finds in her gorgeous orbs allows him to push forward. “I-I like you, Y/N.”

Y/N thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She did not expect a confession of this kind from Harry. It leaves her frozen for a second because while Y/N reciprocates those feelings, she’s not at liberty to act on them, not when working on the largest tour of her life. Y/N doesn’t care what people think. It’s a big reason she doesn’t look at tabloids or use her social media accounts, but this–thinking of pursuing a relationship with Harry is not something she can allow herself to give in.

“You’re sweet, Harry. I think you’re great too.”

Harry grimaces because he realizes she doesn’t understand what he is saying. Before he can explain what he means, June, Y/N’s drummer, rushes in, telling her Felix was having an issue and it was bad. Y/N patted his shoulder and excused herself.

Well, it went nothing like he expected. Harry held out for her to say she felt the same, but she clearly didn’t. Harry knows many would tell him to move on, but he knows Y/N is special. While he wouldn’t pursue her, he knew he still wanted her in his life.

As much as Y/N hated to admit it, after Harry’s confession, there has been an awkwardness in their conversations. It’s been too much because they no longer spend time alone. Y/N decided to treat their relationship the same, but when she went to his room that night, she found Mitch with him. Y/N knew that she messed up. She also knew she was being selfish by wanting to keep it all the same when he had put himself out there only for her to brush him off.

A few shows go by, and Y/N feels better because Harry still seeks her out to have lunch together. He invites her to join his workouts, which she regrets because Brad is honestly insane. Brad had promised to make a routine that best fit her needs. Harry did not change much; he kept flirting, offering her compliments and daily hugs. A rush went through her each night, knowing he was watching her.

Tonight was no different. He offered her a short hug, and off she went to play to his fans. Y/N felt off from the moment she got on stage but had no idea why. Quinn stepped close, wanting to know if she was feeling okay, but Y/N couldn’t describe it other than a pit in her stomach. It was as if she sensed something was coming. Y/N promised she was fine and pushed through.

Halfway through the set, Y/N looked over and saw Harry staring at her with a fond smile. Y/N didn’t want to look away but had a show to play. Her feelings were winning, and Y/N knew she wouldn’t care about the aftermath if she decided to date Harry. She wanted to bask in the feeling of liking him and hopefully loving him one day. So, she decided to do something different to let him know she was ready to have that conversation.

“Right, this is a little different tonight. I-I have a friend who loves this song, and we haven’t played it in some time, but I thought they might enjoy it and hopefully you as well. This is ‘Crystal Clear.’”

This song is one she wrote when she was wishing for a happy future with a partner who loves and respects her, showing them that she won’t give in to her fears and wants to be together. It was one of Quinn’s favorites to play, but all collectively agreed it didn’t fit the setlist. Y/N knew she’d get endless questions for adding it so suddenly, but she’d deal with that after speaking with Harry. They played a few more songs, and once she gave her final bow, she hurried off stage. Y/N expected to find Harry waiting for her there but instead ran into Mitch, who looked at her, startled.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N asked impatiently.

“Piano room, but–”

She hurried down the hall, ignoring Mitch, who tried telling her to stop. She didn’t realize he was following her down.

“Y/N don’t–” She walks into the piano room even as Mitch tries to stop her to find Harry hugging a woman. Y/N knew it wasn’t a friend because the grip the woman had on Harry was one of possession. Harry was looking at her, but his face was hard to read. It was as if all the walls she had broken down were now standing higher and stronger. Y/N didn’t move her eyes away from him; her eyes landed on his swollen lips. It’s clear she interrupted a private moment. Y/N grimaces because she knows she would never be able to think about this piano without the tainted memory of Harry wrapped in the arms of another.

“I’m sorry,” she sends them a grim look and walks out, closing the door behind her. She finds Mitch and Sarah staring at her, unsure what to do; they must be aware of the situation between her and Harry.

“Is that his…” She couldn’t even say the word.

Sarah frowned, “she’s uh kind of friend.”

Y/N didn’t need to hear anymore. Sure, Harry said he liked her, but when she didn’t give him the answer he wanted, what did she want him to do, beg and make her open her eyes. No, she needed to figure it out on her own, and now that she did, it was too late.

It’s not like she had a reason to be jealous. She never told Harry she liked him. All she did was pat his shoulder and move on like nothing had ever been said. Y/N bid Mitch and Sarah good luck for the night and walked to her green room. Y/N’s tears began to fall as soon as the door closed behind her. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Nothing was going on between them, yet why did she feel like nothing would be the same anymore. Maybe it was hurting because he had promised to watch her set each night, and she sang a different song tonight because he had said it was his favorite. Y/N knew she wasn’t being fair, sending him mixed signals, but Y/N didn’t deserve to feel this either. It made her feel as if his feelings weren’t even real. She was blinded by her tears to notice June was on the couch, book in hand, but was thankful she was there because she got to break down in the comfort of arms she was familiar with.

Y/N wasn’t okay, but she would be. It was only a crush.

Y/N could not sleep that night. She tossed and turned until she gave up and decided to go to her balcony to watch the sunrise. Time moved slowly, and it allowed her to regroup. By eight o’clock, she was all packed up and waiting in the lobby. Y/N rode to the airport with her friends, where they would all get on separate flights and reunite in May for rehearsals and more love on tour. Y/N was ready to go home and enjoy a home-cooked meal with her mother. She had said goodbye to everyone except for one person. He was quieter today; it allowed him to blend in. Harry had a “Damn” sweater on, the hood up, and a claw clip in the jumper's pocket. Y/N starts walking his way before she can change her mind.

“Harry,” she calls out softly.

He looks up, offering her the tiniest smile. “Y/N.”

“Have a good break.” She offers awkwardly.

He nods. They make no move, and Y/N knows they have no idea where they stand, but Y/N would never start something if Harry had someone else, so she knew she had to come back from the break clear-headed and with these feelings gone and, if not at least tucked away.

Y/N opened her arms and shrugged, telling him it was up to him. Harry didn’t even have to think about it; he wrapped her in a tight hug, breathing her in for one last time.

“Have a safe flight,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

She walks away with a heavy heart and hopes a month and a half is enough to lose these feelings.

While home, Y/N tries to deal with her feelings, and for the most part, it works. Y/N got in the routine of going on morning walks followed by an hour of yoga. She found it helpful in clearing her thoughts and starting her day without a clouded mind. Y/N had not talked to Harry since that morning in the airport; he had sent texts, but they had all gone unread. Her mother tried to convince her to answer him, but she knew it would only hurt more if she found out he was dating that person. The only good thing about this is that Y/N had written five new songs. It seemed heartbreak and love were always a good sign of inspiration. Y/N played her favorite to her mum, and she was told it was okay. Felix told her that the new song was the heart of the new album she was working on. Through the years, she had learned to take what her mother says with a grain of salt.

Her mother was also tired of her moping. Y/N, when on break, would go to her own flat and visit her mother occasionally but so far spent her entire holiday there. Her mother assured Y/N she enjoyed having her home, but it did worry her that she had not left the house. So, as any mother would do, she set Y/N up for a blind date. Y/N said no, time and time again, but Reina promised it would only be coffee. Y/N knew she didn’t have to go, but some of her was tempted because while she knew she had friends to call up, this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss. Going out and talking with a stranger would be awkward but would be a change in topic.

Y/N was told he’d find her as he received a photo of her. She got there early, deciding to use the time to read a book. Quinn told her “One Last Stop” would change her life and, so far, hadn’t disappointed. Y/N was lost in the story that she jumped up when someone lightly touched her shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” she looked up, hoping the person hadn’t spilled any coffee, and to her surprise, they were empty-handed. His chocolate eyes were filled with concern, but Y/N brushed it off by offering him a timid smile. “Hi, are you Miles?”

“Yes, and you’re Y/N,” he stated.

“Mhm…it’s nice to meet you.”

Miles nods, “you’re prettier than the picture I was sent.”

Y/N feels her face warm in embarrassment and doesn’t even dare ask to see the photo they showed him. If she knew her mother, it had to be the time she jumped into Glacier Lake and came out looking like a wet dog. Her mother always made sure to keep her humble. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

He gestures for her to sit down and follows after her. She tucks her book back into her bag, ready to give him her full attention. “Do you want something to drink? Heard they have an amazing lavender latte.”

Y/N gestures to her cup before her, “already got something.”

Miles nods, “a pastry, then?”

Now that she would never say no to. “I’ll take a muffin please.”

“You got it.”

Miles walks over to the counter, and while he’s away, she allows herself to look him over. He’s cute, wearing black trousers and a baby blue cardigan. It’s clear he’s comfortable with his style by how he carries himself. Y/N knows if she wasn’t trying to get over her feelings, she would have given him a chance, but with her going back on tour, she isn’t ready for that.

When Miles returns to the table with his drink and two muffins, she asks him about his work and family. She discovers he’s an art curator and is working on his next collection. He shares he has two older siblings and two younger, making him the middle child. His mother tries to make it up by having lunch with him each week, but it’s easy to be overlooked as a middle child. Y/N is intrigued with him and knows Miles would be a good friend; if anything, she thinks Felix would get on with him better than she did.

Y/N realized it was her turn to talk about herself, but she didn’t really like stating her job. Sometimes, people judged her, and she honestly didn’t want things to get worse with Miles, but it seemed Y/N’s luck would not improve because when the door opened, a familiar face walked in. Familiar brown curls sticking out from his trucker hat, Harry’s casual wear had always been comfortable but stylish. He always tended to run cold, so he wore an oversized green coat that reminded her of the time he threw it over her when he saw she fell asleep in his green room after his soundcheck. Y/N looked away before he could see her, but Y/N was right by an open space, easy to view by the counter. Harry could spot anything and everyone, and he was never one to be rude and ignore someone, but she hoped that would change today.

She turned back to her conversation, but in the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching. Y/N held her breath, hoping he would walk past her, but stopped right in front of her.

“Y/N.” Oh, how she missed hearing her name falling from his lips.

She looks up and finds him staring at her with a timid smile. Y/N gets up and offers him a hug that he quickly accepts. They keep it short, though she feels his hand linger at the small of her back, almost like he didn’t want her to move away, but she wasn’t alone.

“Harry, this is uh…Miles. Miles, this is Harry.”

Harry doesn’t ask anything. He simply tells Miles it’s great to meet him. Miles looks at Y/N in confusion, but she brushes him off. “How’d you meet?” Harry asks, intrigued.

“Our mum’s set us up on a date,” Miles explains for her. “It’s actually our first time meeting.”

Y/N isn’t sure why Miles shared that with Harry, but she can’t blame it. Harry has this trusting aura that makes people want to tell him all their darkest secrets. Y/N would know, seeing as she has shared parts of herself with Harry that no one else has seen, not even her best friends.

Harry nods. She can’t seem to read him at all. His pseudonym name is called, and he uses that as his exit. “Well, it was good to see you.”

“You too, H. I’ll see you soon.”

He nods, giving his goodbye to Miles as well. Y/N watches him until he’s out of the coffee shop and no longer in her view from the mirrors. She finds Miles studying her and knows he might have been able to pick up on the tension between her and Harry.

“Do you want to tell me about that? You don’t have to.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “To start, I kinda have a crush on him, but he’s my boss.”

Miles' eyes widened in shock, “Harry Styles is your boss!” He was not expecting that, but she could tell he was intrigued. His response sends her into a laughing fit, and knows that while she won’t be dating Miles, he will make a good friend.

Y/N felt her break was long and too short at the same time. While she was able to use the time to re-energize, she also wrote a few more songs she wanted to share with her band before booking time for studio sessions. Y/N knew studio time would be hard to find, but she was determined to do it between breaks, even if all she got was two hours.

They had been rehearsing on the stage when she heard a clap from their final song for the set. Y/N turned and spotted the Love Band. She set down her guitar and rushed into Pauli’s arms. They spun her around, laughing as she blubbered on how she missed them. Pauli set her down, giving everyone a chance to say hello. Hanging in the back of the group were Mitch and Harry. Y/N knew she would need to have a conversation with Harry soon, but for now, she would bask in the joy of being back on tour and sharing the stage with him.

“Harry! Mitch!”

Harry looked surprised to see her look happy, calling for him. He sent her a small wave, but Y/N was going in for the hug. He basked in the warmth she had to share with him. Being back in the same space with Y/N was comforting after seeing her out on a date a few weeks ago. It made him feel awful, and he couldn’t help that he made Y/N feel the same with his last fling.

She let go of him, moving on to Mitch. Y/N was chatting away, telling them she had gotten a new guitar and was excited to play it tonight. Soon enough, Mitch and her were lost in their own conversation about lyrics she had written and how she was stuck on finding a melody that would work. Mitch promised to have a look and give her any ideas that would come up.

“You’re still welcome to use the piano, Y/N. I know how much that helped before,” Harry offered.

Y/N fell quiet because while she knew Harry was still there, she didn’t feel overwhelmed because she wasn’t conversing with him, but now all his attention was on her. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she mumbles, knowing she wouldn’t take him up on it.

Harry nods, and he thinks better of it while he’s about to excuse himself. “Y/N, do you—would it be okay if we talked in private.”

Mitch excuses himself, leaving it all up to Y/N. She has no idea what this conversation will entail but owes it to herself to hear him out. “Lead the way, boss.”

Harry looks pleased and walks off the stage, leading them down some stairs and into the pit, but he doesn’t stop there. He makes her climb a few more stairs, landing them in tonight's lower bowl section of the venue.

Y/N whistles, taking in the view from the distance. “Quite a view. I might have to watch the show from here one night.”

He laughs, “you let me know, and we can make it happen. We’ll make sure you’re not mobbed.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please, your fans wouldn’t be able to recognize me.”

“Beg to differ. There are more signs for you each night.” Y/N waves him off. “They’ve started to make Tik Tok edits about you.” Harry doesn’t share how he knows, but some nights over the break, he spent time watching them. It made him miss her more, seeing her running around the stage like it was hers. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, and she didn’t even know it.

“Please, stop!” Y/N laughs. “My ego can only take so much.”

Y/N had forgotten how easy it was with Harry, but being with him now made her wish things hadn’t changed. She had to go an entire month without hearing from him because her feelings were hurt over something that should not have bothered her.

“Y/N, I am sorry for how we left things in Japan.”

She grimaces, “me too.” Harry quickly disagrees, but Y/N reminds him of all his unanswered texts.

“You’re forgiven,” he tells her.

While Y/N appreciates it, a big topic needs to be addressed.

Harry takes a deep breath before turning his body to look at her. “I know my actions and words might have confused you, but I’m here to be honest. I won’t lie to you, not now, not ever. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words Y/N. I need to hear you say it.”

“I understand. You won’t lie to me. I trust you,” Y/N truly believes her words.

He dips his head in acknowledgment. “I like you, and I went on to do something stupid. The girl you saw me with is named Victoria. She–well, to put it lightly, she was a hookup, and she’d join me from time to time. When you saw me that night, she was surprising me because she was going through a breakup and needed comfort, and well–I felt rejected and fell into her. I’m not blaming you–I know I could have said no, but I was too overwhelmed that I preferred to do something to disappoint myself and you. My therapist said if I had talked about it with someone–anyone, this wouldn’t have happened, but I’m not too good with words most times.”

Y/N offers him a smile, “doing pretty good now.”

Harry reaches for her hand, and Y/N lets him take it. She can see he needs the support. “I got a lot to work through, but I’m better and want to be a better partner and person. I want to be someone worthy of you.”

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out. “That's–you’re…that’s not why I didn’t confess my feelings. You’re amazing. I would be so lucky to explore a relationship with you.”

He looks at her, confused, “then what is it?”

“You’re my boss. You can say under technicalities you aren’t, but this is your sold-out world tour. I’m making a name for myself, doing what I love. While being an opening act for you has been a dream come true, being tied to you as your girlfriend will put my name out there, but not how I want. Do you understand?” Y/N hopes she got her point across, never wanting Harry to think he wasn’t enough.

Harry sighs because he knows where she is coming from. He wished he didn’t; he wished he could beg her to say yes to dating him to see where it could lead, but Harry knows how much she loves being on stage, and he would never dare threaten to take that from her or anything that comes with it.

“I understand. I do. I like you, I do. While it sucked seeing you dating someone else, I respect you. I still want to be your friend.” Harry rubs a hand under his scuffed jaw. “I miss talking with you about each show at night.”

Y/N squeezes his hands. “Friends, we’re friends. I hope you’re okay with me being in your life, even as a friend.”

Harry stands up, bringing her with him, and wraps her in a tight hug. He breathes her in. She has a distinct smell of roses and vanilla. It’s perfectly her. He wished he could bottle up the scent and take it with him wherever he went so that it hopefully would make missing her easier.

“I’ll always be your friend,” he assures her.

He can be friends with her. Harry knows it could lead him to heartbreak, but it would be worth it for Y/N.

The next few shows fly by, and Y/N and Harry easily fall into a routine again. Y/N joins Harry for his morning workouts, but Brad made her a workout to suit her likes. While Harry loves intense core workout, Y/N loves to stretch. There are days when all three go off to do a Pilates class. Mainly, Y/N does her yoga in a corner and joins Harry for his core sets.

From there, they’ll do breakfast with their bandmates, sometimes together, and sometimes go their separate ways. They have limited their time together alone because Y/N knows her feelings for Harry are only growing, and Harry wants to respect Y/N and her boundaries. Y/N shared with her bandmates how she felt, and they understood, except Quinn, who told her she should go for it. Everyone looked at Quinn, shocked, but he just shook his head, telling her to really think about this because, from his point of view, Y/N and Harry were perfect for each other. Y/N let Quinn’s words ring through her mind for some time, but Y/N was nervous about taking that next step. She wasn’t sure how it would work. She loves working with Harry, and she knows he’s taking a break after, but what if he doesn’t like that his partner is never home, just like him. Y/N loves being with her family, but she’s never happier than when she is on stage. Y/N can’t seem to take that step just yet.

In Scotland, Y/N finally decided to return to using Harry’s piano. She initially felt strange but realized she had been missing it for some time. Y/N walks in and is happy to find it open. Y/N runs a hand over the smooth wood before taking a seat. She sets down her old journal and opens it up to the last page she wrote.

Y/N lets her hands rest on the keys before going into C major. She repeats it a few times until she feels ready. It was a slow melody that went hand in hand with her lyrics. She began to sing in the room with only the sound of the piano.

Look at me. I feel homesick

Want my dog in the door

And the light in the kitchen

A creek behind her made her jump up suddenly, hands shooting out to grab her notebook to her chest. Harry steps back, hands up in defense. There is an apologetic look on his face.

“I knocked, but don’t think you heard.”

Y/N feels her face heat up and knows she tends to get lost in her music. “Sorry, it was empty when I came in. Did not expect you to come in. I can leave if you are planning to use the space. It is yours, after all.”

Harry brushes her off, walks into the room, and gestures for her to sit back on the bench with him. He scoots in close, wanting no space between them. “What did you play just now? I’ve never heard a tune so mellow yet sad.”

“Think I wrote my album closer,” she confesses.

The joy on Harry’s face is apparent. “Shit, really! That’s wonderful.”

“It’s--gosh, how I explain it. I felt like floating, and this melody really carried me through. You can find an underlying of it through a few of the other songs,” she can’t help but express to him

Harry sits back, impressed, “is the album complete?”

“Think so. I need to go into the studio and finish a few, maybe decide on one or two. Then, all good to go. Think all that’s missing is a name.”

“Y/N’s house,” he jokes.

“Ah, wouldn’t that be nice. I have an idea, but I need to be sure.”

“Will you play it for me?”

Y/N knows what he’s asking, and part of her wants to say no, but no one has heard the song. Not her bandmates, not her co-writers, not her producer, and certainly not her mother. Y/N knows if she shares this with Harry, it will change the entire album for her. When she thinks back on this song, it will now have a whole new meaning.

“It’s six minutes.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he promises her.

While they both know it’s not true, she appreciates the sentiment as they’re both set to perform tonight. Y/N takes a deep breath and, with trembling hands, begins to play her song for him. Y/N drags the intro out for a little longer before letting herself sing these lyrics she’s been carrying around for weeks. Y/N has her eyes closed, swaying as she lets herself tell this story of being exhausted and lonely for being away from everything she loves while feeling at home and her most genuine self. It tells the story of how she can grow even when experiencing so much change while being entirely on her own.

I feel like myself right now.

I feel like myself right now

Mmm.

Y/N opens her eyes, looks at Harry, and finds him crying. She sits up straight, practically pushing herself to sit in his lap as she wipes away his tears. “No, no, what are you doing? Please don’t cry.”

“You made me cry,” he mumbles while Y/N keeps her hands on his cheeks, brushing away his tears with her thumbs. “It was a fucking brilliant song.”

Y/N feels her face warm, “you think so?”

He nods, “think my tears say enough.”

“You could have cried because it was awful.”

Harry bursts out laughing, “absolutely not.”

Y/N wants to lean in and kiss him to thank him for his kind words, but he doesn’t deserve her confusion. “It’s the perfect way to end my album.”

“I agree.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “you haven’t heard the whole thing.”

Harry shrugs, “don’t have to.” The flattery is becoming too much, but she doesn’t want to move away from him. “You’ll remember this moment when you win album of the year next awards season.”

“Shut up, those are stupid.”

“Hey now! I happen to own a few.”

Her hands are still on his face, his tears now dried up, but she doesn’t move away. Y/N is enjoying this too much, and a part of her knows Harry is, too. “I don’t do it for the awards. Music is something I’ve always had, and if I can share it with a few others and they find some type of meaning from it, then it means I’ve done a job well done.”

“Fucking well said, Y/N.”

Y/N giggles, “You can open for me on my tour after I win my Grammy,” she teases.

Harry places a hand over his heart, “it would be my greatest honor.”

“Shut up, you dork.”

Y/N finally lets her hands drop, and Harry takes a second to hide his disappointment.

“Does this mean we can hang out with a buffer now?”

Y/N furrows her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. “Sorry?”

Harry pinches her thigh lightly, making her jump closer to him, almost losing her balance. He wraps his hand around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. “Come on, we’ve been hanging out together, but someone always seems to be with us. If it’s not Brad, it’s Anthony; if it’s not Pauli, it’s Quinn. It’s been never-ending.”

They didn’t mean to do it, but Y/N knows she’s missed their inside jokes and private late-night talks when Harry tells everyone he goes to bed early when, in reality, he’s chatting Y/N’s ear off.

“I guess we can go back to late-night pillow talks.”

“And exploring the city?”

“Course, I missed your Google facts.”

“Heey,” he yells, offended.

“Can’t deny it. I saw you do it many times.”

“Trying to impress you,” he mutters. “Clearly, all I do is fail.”

“Stick to music. You’ll go far in life,” Y/N laughs as he rolls his eyes at her.

“Haha, it means we start right now. Found this old thrift shop nearby.” He pulls her with him as he drags her out, careful to ensure they aren’t caught because if word is out Harry has gone without security, it could be madness.

“We’ve got a show in a few hours.”

“They’ve got beautiful skirts. I called and got pictures sent over.”

Y/N sighs. He knows her too well. “Lead the way, H.”

Harry shoots her a charming smile, and Y/N knows she would have followed him wherever he asked her to without a second thought. She knew she was in safe hands with him.

Harry and Y/N had fun exploring Amsterdam for a few days before heading to Ireland. They had each planned an activity and a place they wanted to eat. Sometimes, they disagreed on food because of Harry’s eating choices, while Y/N would eat anything and everything as long as dessert was always included. Harry thought it was too much, but when he found out how much Y/N enjoyed it, he said yes and ensured she had something sweet, even if he didn’t get anything.

Jeff would tell Harry off for going without security or someone for the team but brushed him off because he didn’t need anyone intruding on his time with Y/N. He loved spending hours with her uninterrupted, touring cities he had never once had the chance to explore. While he enjoyed those days, Harry also loved show days because he got to see Y/N dance around on stage. She went from singing in sweats to her favorite mini skirts for showtime, and when Y/N decided to pair it with a baby tee, Harry had to think of world hunger and puppies to make his hard-on go away. He knows he should look away, but she captivates him every time she’s on stage, dancing and spinning around to sitting on the edge of the stage. Y/N occasionally brought fans on stage, but when that happened, he would be taken further backstage for his safety; he knew those fans were there for her at that time while he was forgotten.

Tonight was a big night. Harry would be playing at Slane Castle. Harry knew it would be special because not everyone is asked to perform here. Harry had spent most of his time today with his crew, psyching Mitch up for his debut performance. Many didn’t know Mitch had created an album and were even more surprised when he was announced as another opener for tonight. Y/N was still at the forefront of his mind, knowing he had to wish her luck for tonight. He’d be deeper in the audience tonight to watch all his friends open this monumental show for him.

Y/N would be a fool to not know what it means to be playing Slane Castle in Ireland today. Y/N’s nerves were insane today. She knew she wasn’t nervous. No, she was anxious. When she was younger, her biggest fear was disappointing her mother. Y/N hated failing others, while her mom did an excellent job of assuring she didn’t have to carry all that pressure on her shoulders. Sometimes, it came back, and she couldn’t shake it.

She had spent thirty minutes on the phone with her mother, and nothing helped. Y/N wasn’t worried about disappointing herself. No, this–tonight was bigger than her. Quinn and Felix could tell something was up, but they couldn’t help, not when June kept taking off a piece of clothing when she saw the time move closer to when they were meant to take the stage.

June was on a clothes removal band and couldn’t go to the restroom alone or even for a snack. It was honestly quite funny. It allowed Y/N to momentarily take her mind off the anxiety lingering in her body. When Y/N saw she had half an hour and her handshake got worse, she felt her throat swell up and excused herself. Y/N had no idea where to go or where to hide. She simply walked and ended up in a secluded corner where she tried to center herself before going on stage.

Harry walks into Y/N’s green room excited to see her, but all he finds are her three bandmates playing cards while June sits in a robe. He doesn’t bother questioning it and instead asks for Y/N.

They all turn to look at each other before Quinn answers. “She left like ten minutes ago. She said she needed a breather.”

That makes sense; he hates that he doesn’t know where exactly she went. Felix pulls her phone out and airdrops a location to Harry. “That’s her exact location. You should have her share her location with you. We can always see where she is.”

Not a bad idea at all. He wouldn’t mind Y/N knowing where he was, especially if seeing where she was on a map could bring him the smallest of comfort. Harry thanks them and walks back out. He walks for around ten minutes until he reaches a secluded corner in the grass. Y/N is sitting on an oversized denim jacket while she stares at her hands.

“Y/N,” he calls out softly to not startle her. She lifts her head and offers him a shaky grin. He can instantly tell something’s wrong. “Hi, love. Been looking for you.”

She shrugs as if to say she’s here. Harry steps closer but is careful not to invade her space. “Came by to wish you luck.”

Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because Y/N looked away from him, burying her face in her hands. He heard her cries, hurried to sit down, and scooped her in his lap. He rocked her back and forth as he tried to get her to stop. He hated seeing her upset. Y/N was always the epitome of strength, and this had him worried. Y/N expressed that she had a hard time going on stage, but she said it was ages ago.

He whispered sweet nothings, hoping to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. “Please tell me how I can help. Please,” he begged.

“I-I-I don’t w-want to disappoint you,” she cries out. Her tears keep falling, and seeing her like this breaks his heart.

“Hey, hey. I got you.” Harry brings her close, letting her rest her head on his chest. “You’re okay. I got you.”

“It’s a big night for you, and I want to make you proud. I-I can’t disappoint you,” she repeats.

Harry hates that she thinks she can do anything to disappoint him. He pulls her away from his chest because he needs her to understand that she can do no wrong in his eyes. “Love, will you look at me?”

Y/N lifts her head, and her teary eyes meet his warm ones. He hates that she’s doubting herself. “Tonight is the same as any other.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not. No–”

“Shh—yes, it is. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” She mumbles.

Harry brushes her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Because I’ll still be watching. I will be cheering you on as I do every night. You make every night special, and I know tonight will be no different.”

“You have too much faith in me,” she mutters against his shirt.

“I always will. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N, not only as a person but also as an artist. I’ve seen how hard you work. How you constantly want to improve each song and each set. You want everyone in that audience to have fun even if they aren’t here for you. This is a large crowd, but if you close your eyes, it’s just you and the band. That is what you can control. So, tonight, when you get on stage, whether you sing one song or five or if you mess up a guitar note or you change your setlist. I can promise you I will be proud.”

Y/N sniffles; her tears have dried up. “Harry,” she whines. Y/N can’t find any words and throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Harry wraps his arms around her waist and holds her tight. It’s a comfort they have been both seeking all day. Y/N then realized that all the anxiety she faced was because of Harry. She admires and respects him and wouldn’t dare want to mess up his big night.

“Every night is special. Tonight is slightly different only because Mitch is also performing,” Harry teases, hoping to make her laugh, and it works. He feels her laugh move through his chest and settle deep in his heart. “It’s another stop of Love on Tour, and then it’s home shows. Now that should scare you,” he jokes. “My family will be there.”

Y/N knows those words should frighten her, but if anything, it brings her comfort. Harry’s family and hers will meet for the first time, which she had been looking forward to. Honestly, if her mum gives the seal of approval to Harry, it might indeed be over for her. Although that’s something to worry about in a few days, for now, her focus is on putting on a show to remember the thousands of people at Slane Castle.

“Do you want to pick my outfit tonight?” Y/N offers, in exchange for him helping her avoid a panic attack, her hands playing with the ends of his hair.

Harry lights up, “you mean it?”

Y/N laughs, “it’s got to match my ribbons for tonight.”

Harry pouts, “what do you take me for?”

She shrugs.

“I’ll have you know I co-hosted the Met Gala.”

Y/N wags her eyebrows, “fancy.”

“Shoes?”

“Not up for debate.”

Harry waves her off, “good enough for me.”

They walk back together, hand in hand, as Harry goes over possible outfit combinations he has in mind for her. He really wants to see her in leather pants because he knows it will hug her nicely. Her black bows sit nicely in her hair as she does her makeup. June made her do an eye mask for ten minutes to bring down the puffiness in her eyes. It worked, mostly. Y/N did a shimmery eyeshadow and her eyeliner. All that was left was her outfit.

Y/N walked into the bathroom, where Harry told her it was all laid out. She shimmied into her sequined flares and slipped on the simple black baby tee. She ruffled her hair a bit, and overall, Y/N was happy with the look for tonight. She walked out to find everyone waiting for her. She did a spin and got lots of whistles and claps. Y/N told them all to shut up and to get to the stage. She lingered behind with Harry. The look he was giving her was anything but friendly.

“You look beautiful.”

“Might have to hire you as my stylist,” she jokes.

“No, I’d have you wear skirts every night.”

“But not tonight?” Y/N asks confused.

“Wanted something different tonight.”

Y/N doesn’t argue with him. She did give him a full range of her clothes. Y/N hears her name being called and knows she needs to get her mic pack.

“I’ll see you after?” Y/N checks.

“Of course.”

They stand there staring at each other. Y/N, for a moment, thinks Harry will kiss her, and she knows she will let him. Instead, he does something that makes her catch her breath. He steps close and leans down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Good luck, Y/N.”

It’s a simple gesture, but it has her heart racing. “Thank you, H.”

Y/N hurries off after and thanks her engineer for her mic. They hook it to the side of her pants, and Y/N jumps to test its security. So far, so good. Y/N looks behind her one last time and finds Harry giving her a thumbs-up. She could do this. Y/N would go on stage and have fun.

From the moment Y/N got on stage to when she got off, Y/N could not stop smiling. The crowd was incredible, singing her most popular songs back to her. She could not stop thanking them for a fantastic night.

“Before I play you one last song and finally leave this stage, there is one last thank you. To Harry, thank you for asking me to be a part of such a special day. It’s one I will never forget. Thank you for the kindness, but most importantly, thank you for sharing your fans. They have been the best crowds to play to. This one's for you.”

Y/N had never done a dedication before, but it felt right tonight.

In the crowd, Harry was watching Y/N’s set, and while he didn’t need a thank you, it meant a lot coming from Y/N. Harry had no idea Brad was recording him or that he caught Harry blushing as Y/N dedicated the night's final song to him. His friends knew teasing was always okay with Harry, but he looked transfixed, staring at Y/N serenading the crowd they knew could wait until later.

Y/N had the time of her life dancing with Felix, Quinn, and June to Harry’s set. She laughed loudly when he got called a slag, cheered when he thanked his band, tried to hide when he thanked her and the other openers and cried as he played “Fine Line.” It was a perfect show, everything Harry deserved.

While it was late, Y/N and Harry still hung out, talking about their favorite bits when they reached their hotel rooms. Y/N loved it when a fan shouted they loved her during a song transition. Harry thought “Kiwi” went insane tonight. Y/N recounted the slag story, and Harry let her laugh it up. He teased her, saying he noticed when she tripped over her words when introducing her band. It was every moment that made the night special. While they had a few days off before Wembley, Y/N knew it was time to head for bed as it would be a travel day. Y/N couldn’t wait to hug her mum and knew Harry felt the same.

Harry lingered outside her door as if he didn’t want to leave. Y/N wanted him to stay, but it would be crossing the boundaries they set for each other. Y/N knew she had a lot to figure out, but day by day, everything became more apparent.

“Good night, Y/N love.”

Y/N steps on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, H.” Harry walked away from her with a cheesy grin on her face. As Y/N closed the door, she knew one thing: that she liked Harry.

She is head over heels for him. Y/N knew the ball was in her court. She had to make a move if she wanted anything to happen. It seemed the hometown shows were about to get interesting.

Y/N had dreamed about playing at Wembley Stadium. While it technically wasn’t for her, she would play in a sold-out stadium. Y/N would open the show for four nights. She’d get to play here and dream of a future where she sold out her favorite stadium in her hometown.

She was in the middle of the walkway, where Harry sings “Matilda” each night. Y/N doesn’t hear the camera shutter or the footsteps approaching her. Y/N is simply taking it all in, wanting to remember the stadium empty before she sees it filled up.

“Do you still dream about nights like tonight?” Y/N turns her head when she hears her mother’s gentle voice.

“Mum!” Y/N shoots up from where she’s sitting and runs into her open arms. Y/N stands taller than her mother but never feels smaller than being wrapped tightly in her familiar embrace. “Thought you were coming until later.”

Reina laughed, “Wanted to spend the day with you, oh, and Quinn promised we’d catch up on gossip.”

Y/N shook her head, “did he bring you out here?”

“Sure did. I needed to say hi to my girl before gossiping my life away.”

“Is it book club?”

Reina sighs dramatically, “it always is.”

Y/N and her mum chatter as they make their way backstage. She’s got family members and friends coming over the four days, but her mum promised to be at all four. Her childhood best friends, Tiffany and Elena. Her cousins and nephews were coming, even her Aunt and Uncles. Y/N reminded everyone she was simply the opening act, but no one cared; they were all proud of her.

She had introduced her mother to nearly everyone except her favorite person. Y/N found Harry with his headphones in but took them off when he noticed her.

“Y/N,” he greets with a cheerful smile. He quickly notices the woman beside her and introduces himself as Harry, a friend of Y/N’s.

“My mum, Reina,” Y/N tells him.

Harry grins, “I see the resemblance. We know Y/N will look just as amazing as you in the future.”

Reina can’t stop smiling, “dear, you didn’t tell me how cheeky this one is.”

“He’s a flirt, Mumma. Nothing is stopping him.”

“Oi, you see what I have to deal with,” Harry teases. “I only flirt with pretty girls named Y/N.”

“And who’s from London,” her mum adds.

Harry points a finger at Reina before turning to look at Y/N, “I like her. I really do.”

“Keep her,” Y/N tells him. “I can only take so much teasing.”

“Oh, darling. You can never get rid of me.”

Harry throws a hand over her shoulder, bringing her close to his side. “Like you too much to go through life without you.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but her Mumma can see how flustered she has become. “Come on, I’ll take you to meet my Mum and sister. They were set to arrive any minute now.”

It’s Y/N's turn to perk up, “your Mum’s here.”

Harry feels his heart swell at her excitement to meet his mother. He has no idea what he and Y/N are, but they’re certainly more than friends.

Y/N spent the entire afternoon chatting with Anne and Gemma. She didn’t mean to monopolize her time, but Anne would keep the conversation going, and Y/N was enjoying it too much to remember she had a different job to do.

“Y/N, babe, we’ve got sound check,” Felix interrupted, apologizing to Anne.

Harry slipped into the spot next to Anne, “yeah, Y/N, leave my mum alone and go work.”

Before Y/N could rebuttal, Anne slapped his knee lightly, chastising him to be polite. Harry winked in Y/N’s direction. She excused herself and promised Anne she’d see her around for the next few days. Y/N walked out to find the band waiting for her. Y/N looked back one last time to check in on her mother and was happy to see her wrapped up in a conversation with Pauli and Mitch.

Quinn smirked when she made her way towards them. “Take it your mother-in-law likes you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She slapped his shoulder, telling him to shut up.

“Wembley, Wembley, I don’t know if you know this, but London is where I grew up. So, boss man, these are all my hometown shows, too.” Y/N laughed when the crowd cheered. “My mom took me to concerts with her because she preferred to take me with her to create these beautiful memories together instead of me staying home with a relative. So, if you enjoy my music and are happy I pursued this dream, you can thank Reina. Mum, you’re my best friend and my number one supporter. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Y/N turned to see the screens where her mother was shown wiping her tears and blowing kisses to the screen. Y/N saw Tiffany reach over and give her a cuddle and knew she’d be in trouble for making her cry, but it was worth it.

“My name is Y/N, and it’s been a pleasure playing for you. Here’s one last song. Good night, Wembley. You’re in for a hell of a show with Harry Styles, I promise.”

Y/N ran off stage and straight into the arms of the first person she saw, which happened to be Harry. While she didn’t see him before going on stage because he had been out cheering on Madi, he was now looking at her proudly. Harry spun her around, and all Y/N wanted to do was reach down and give him a kiss. It took everything in her not to do it, especially when surrounded by hundreds of people.

“You were amazing,” he breathed as he set her down.

“They’re fucking amazing,” Y/N told him, pointing out to the crowd. Y/N rambled on about how the crowd was like no other, that the energy they brought was nothing she had ever felt. “I didn’t want to leave the stage.”

Harry laughs loudly, “should have stayed there think I could have watched you all night.”

“Awe, afraid you can’t surpass my amazingness,” she playfully mocks, knowing very well he’d knock this out of the park. Harry made a sold-out stadium feel like the most intimate show each night.

Harry can’t stop looking away from her beaming face. It brings him so much joy to see her like this each night. All he wants to do is celebrate with her, showering her with kisses and telling her how proud he is of her. Instead, he lets her go and tells her he'll see her at the end of the night. There would be no late-night talks tonight as they’d be going to their respective home. “Best of luck, H.”

He watches her walk away and mentally prepares for his first night of four in Wembley.

Wembley had been perfect each night. His family and Y/N are getting on swimmingly. He hoped for it, but seeing it in person gave him hope that he and Y/N could pursue something. With a day off in between, he was back. He knew the end of the tour was nearing, and his time with Y/N was limited, but watching her on stage each night stopped him from doing anything because he preferred to have her as a friend rather than nothing at all.

Y/N was in a red skirt tonight with a white top with embezzled cherries scattered around. He remembered her mentioning it was his saddest song. It’s not one he would sing again, but he wondered if she was ever in his show's audience to hear it live. The ribbons were cherry red and long. Slowly, as she danced around, they were coming undone. One moment, she was in front of the stage, and the next, she was dancing her way down his long catwalk. She usually kept to the stage but used more and more over time. Tonight, she sang an entire song to his fans, who sang her songs right back to her. Harry knew having Y/N as an opener would be nice, but it’s nothing he ever imagined.

“Wembley, I know you didn’t come here to see me, but thank you to those who sang along. I have one last song, and soon enough, the man of the hour will grace you with his presence. A thank you to my wonderful band. They truly are my best friends. Give it up for Quinny Quinn Quinn on bass. He truly loves all the edits you’ve tagged him in. There is Felix on guitar and the occasional tambourine. Felix always has a new hair color and keeps us whole. Lastly, this band’s hero is Junie. Junie loves the drums and loves me the most,” Y/N teases as Quinn rolls his eyes at her. “Alright, this is–for me?” Y/N asks confused. She bends down, and the security hands her the bouquet of flowers. It’s a mix of pinks and yellows. It makes her tear up. “You sure?” The fan nods, telling her she brought them specially for her. Y/N holds them close to her chest. “I love you. This has made my entire night.” Y/N shows them off to her bandmates, who are all awed by the kind gesture. She places them by her water so she doesn’t forget them. “Alright, one last thank you to you all. This is the Band and I. Good night, Wembley. I love you!”

She hurries off stage with her bouquet in hand. June commented it was a kind gesture. It reminded Y/N how fans travel to see their artist live in concert. Y/N knows she had a sold-out tour when she finished Love on tour, and while it won’t start for a few months, this time is something she won’t ever forget. She’s grateful for the experience, grateful she gets to observe how the crew is treated, and how much comradery there is on this tour. She’s heard the stories of friendship blossoming. It’s beautiful, and now that she’s gotten a glimpse, she’s happy to be a part of but something she wants to take forward with her.

Y/N drops off her flowers and goes in search of Harry.

Y/N likes Harry.

She likes spending time with him and likes to sit in silence with him, but mostly, she likes hearing him talk and tell stories. Y/N has never felt at peace with a partner or felt the infamous belly full of butterflies, but she feels them both with Harry. She doesn’t even know when she began falling. All she knows is that she’s ready to tell Harry.

While she wants to share how she feels, she’s mostly dying to kiss him. Their tension is thick, and Y/N is ready to cut through it. She did not think Love on Tour would bring her love, but after hearing Mitch and Sarah’s story, she knows anything is possible and that Harry loves playing matchmaker. He’s a big romantic, which is something everyone has told her.

She finds him in the piano room, playing an all too familiar melody. “You know, some would call that plagiarism.”

Harry’s hands fall away from the keys, but he doesn’t turn to look at her. “It’s my favorite song.”

“Not even released. I barely named it,” she tells him truthfully.

He shrugs, “special enough to me.”

“Should have named it Harry’s song instead.”

That gets him a look; his cheeks are red from her comment, and it settles Y/N’s nerves. Harry stands up, and she knows he wants to hug her. While she usually is eager to be wrapped in his warm embrace, she didn’t change coming off stage today and fears she might smell. “Think I might stink.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “stop it and get in here.”

It is no use fighting it when she only wants to be in his arms. Y/N let herself melt against him, her hands resting around his waist.

“Quite incredible out there. Almost got jealous when you got handed those flowers.”

Y/N smirks and pulls back the tiniest bit to see the pout on his lips. “Almost?”

Harry huffs out a sigh. “Fine, I did.”

She grins, “There’s no need to.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the only person who’s got my eye,” she tells him honestly.

Harry’s face turns red, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he pulls her in closer, resting his chin on her head. Y/N struggles to work up the courage to say those three words. She didn’t realize that the fear of rejection could win out when she really liked someone.

She decides to go for it.

“Harry, will you do something for me if I ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” he rebuttals.

Y/N pulls away from him, and he lets her. Her hands stay rooted on his waist, letting him know she doesn’t want him to go far.

“Kiss me, please,” Y/N whispers out into the room. Harry was shocked at her request. He stayed staring at her, unsure if he had misheard, but Y/N repeated herself one more time. “Will you please kiss me?”

He had been waiting for this moment when everything would shift for them, and now that it was here, he was overwhelmed. Harry wanted to kiss her but didn’t know what it would mean for her because he knew what it meant to him. There was a part of him that knew how she felt, but he was dying to hear it.

Instead of questioning it, Harry decides to lean in Y/N, lifting her head to allow their lips to touch, but Harry keeps just enough distance between them to see if she really wants this. Harry lets their lips brush, leaving the ball in her court. He was tempted to go all in but needed to know she wanted him. Y/N was in a daze; she had never felt like she could pass out from a simple touch, but with Harry, it had been like that from the start, from small touches to holding hands. Y/N knew precisely what he was doing and knew exactly what she wanted.

Y/N connected their lips, and she felt fireworks go off. She doesn’t know why she stayed away for so long. Now, she never wants to go without him. Harry raises his hands to cup her face, taking control of the kiss. It is gentle and full of care. She never wanted it to end, and it seemed neither did Harry. Harry was getting lost in the taste of Y/N. He knew he didn’t care what happened as long as he got to keep her in the end.

He pulled away breathless, but Y/N pulled him back in for another kiss before he could say anything. It went on for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes. There was a loud pounding on the door that made the spring apart. Y/N gazed at his swollen lips and knew she must look the same, if not worse.

“Y/N–” He shakes his head, not able to wrap everything around his head

“Shh…” Y/N doesn’t want this moment to end, although she knows it must. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

Harry frowns. He doesn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind and reject him. He wants her, simple as that. “But–”

“I promise I won’t change my mind. I’d tell you right now, but I wouldn’t let you go for the rest of the night if I did.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he confesses.

Y/N chuckles and presses a final kiss to his lips. “I’ll be cheering you on, popstar.”

Harry smirks, “dedicating tonight to you.”

“Menace.”

The show is a beautiful success. Harry spots Y/N in the crowd tonight and spends too much time singing to her. Not that many fans pick up on it. He wouldn’t mind anyone finding out, but she’s all his right now. He runs off stage and straight into his dressing room. He’s got a car waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Y/N. His mom trails in, followed by Jeff and a few others. Harry keeps his door open to keep an eye on her. Harry packs up a few of his belongings, knowing he’ll return tomorrow for a final night. Harry is listening to Jeff drone on about tomorrow and the surprises he has planned when he catches sight of Y/N’s purple bow breezing by. He doesn’t even apologize to Jeff; he runs out after her.

“Y/N!” He calls out.

Y/N stops and smiles. “Hi you! Nice job out there.”

Harry blushes because, as confident as he was on stage dancing for her, there’s a difference between being dressed down and having his crush tell him he did amazing on stage. It means everything knowing she enjoys the shows each night. Harry loves seeing her sing on stage each night and is thankful he gets to enjoy it for a few more weeks.

“I–I’ve got to get going but wanted to see you.”

Y/N reaches up and cups his cheek. Harry leans into her touch, neither caring if someone spots them nor knowing they are in safe hands with the crew around them. “I hope you have a good night. I’ll see you here tomorrow, ready for one final show. I hear it’s going to be the best one yet.”

“Is there something you want to see me play?”

Y/N offers him a soft smile, shaking her head. “All I want is to see you happy on stage.”

While the sentiment is appreciated, Harry knows her words will be on repeat as he falls asleep tonight. He wants to give her something special tomorrow. “I’ll find out your favorite song,” he promises.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “H, I mean it. You being happy on stage is all I could ask for.”

Harry turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand. “I’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

She stares at him lovingly, knowing they both have to go and get a good night's rest. They’ll be apart for a few hours, and tomorrow, be back together to share a few more kisses.

“Good night, you.”

Harry leans in and kisses her cheek. “Night, sweetheart.”

The final night at Wembley had arrived, and she was ready. Y/N knew Harry had most of his family and friends here, which made her slightly nervous because she knew he would want her to meet them but also knew most of them wouldn’t show up for lil ol’ her as an opener. Y/N, when she arrived at the arena, was separated from her band and found at Harry’s side. Harry selfishly wanted her to stay with him; he even sneaked them off to a hidden corner of the stadium, where he kissed her breathless. He promised only a few minutes, which turned out to be thirty. Y/N showed up to her soundcheck with bruised lips and a wide smile. The band decided to tease her later when Harry wasn’t around, seeing they also had lots of questions.

“Yo–you look gorgeous,” Harry expressed as he walked into her dressing room and saw her dressed in a black maxi dress with embroidered flowers instead of her signature mini skirt.

Y/N did a twirl for him, “you like? My mum found it at this shop we love to visit together. Altered it to perfection. The extra fabric she used for my bows,” Y/N points out. Harry admires her loose curls, a massive bow holding half up in a messy updo. She looked effortlessly beautiful.

“It’s wonderful.”

“I got a wardrobe upgrade for the next few weeks. Leaving a lot at home and packing a ton of new outfits. Think it’s time to play dress up,” Y/N laughs, knowing she will have a fun time and lots of new looks to explore.

“Can you dance in it?”

Y/N smirks, “don’t worry, Felix made me practice shaking my ass already.”

“Oh darn,” he jokes. “Have a lovely show.”

Harry brings her in for a hug, and Y/N sags against him, loving the comfort he brings her. As she goes to pull away, Harry leans in for a kiss but waits for her permission; with a simple nod, he connects their lips and captures her heart. The kiss is perfect. It’s slow and gentle but filled with passion and yearning. Yearning for more time together, longing for all they have yet to explore. Harry backs away, his lips shining from her strawberry lip gloss.

With a final wave, he’s gone, and Y/N takes the stage.

“Welcome to the final night of Wembley! Promise you’re in for a hell of a show. I-I’ve never been happier.” Y/N thinks back to minutes before she walked on stage and knows her words have never been more accurate. “Let’s dance!”

The show passes in a breeze, and before she knows it, she’s reached the end of her set, having one final song left to perform. She never seems to feel time passing when she’s on stage. While Y/N loves playing for Harry’s fans, she’s excited to get back on the road for herself soon enough.

“Wembley, Wembley. You are a beautiful crowd. I’ve got one last song for you.” The crowd cheers. “Ouch,” she feigns hurt, placing a hand over her heart. “I won’t take offense only because I’m also excited for Harry.” Y/N steps towards the stage with her microphone. “Thank you for receiving me with open arms, Wembley. I love performing and singing all my songs for you. I hope you come out to a show of mine in the future. It would be lovely to see familiar faces in the crowd. Before I continue, there are some people I need to thank. My mum Reina is in the crowd.” Y/N cheers when the crowd screams and chants for her mother. “She’s going to love that. There is someone special who is not here but has a special place in my heart and made me fall in love with singing: my Dad. While it feels like it has always been my mum and I, he’s never forgotten. My mom gave me all his records and always played music he loved. It led me to finding my dream and making it come true. Mumma, thank you for everything. I love you. Lastly, Harry Styles, it has been my greatest honor to join you on tour, but tonight, I feel extra thankful to be here with you. You’ve become a great inspiration throughout this tour, and I’m grateful for you.”

Y/N wipes her tears, laughing to herself for getting emotional. One last song to sing. She looks at the sky and whispers, “this is for you, Pops.” When she finishes, Y/N blows kisses to the crowd and rushes off stage and straight into her mother’s waiting arms.

“He would be so proud,” Reina whispers, making Y/N shed a few more tears. “I’m proud of you, my angel.”

Y/N squeezes her mother tighter. “Thanks, Mumma.” After her mother finishes showering her in kisses, Y/N heads to her dressing room, wanting to change and shower, except when she walks in, she finds Harry reading her lyric journal.

“Harry?” She looks at him, confused.

He stands up quickly, setting the book down on the couch. “I-I didn’t mean to. But it was flipped open to

‘Right Now’ it’s the song you played me on the piano. I still shouldn’t have done it, but I was curious. I–I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Y/N wishes he wasn’t so panicked. “It’s okay. I think you’ve heard all about these songs. Very comfortable with you reading it. Only June gets a kick at reading the notebook. Think she left it out.”

Harry sighs. She opens her arms for him, and he falls right in. “You were wonderful! Love seeing you so happy,” he mutters.

“Special crowd. Don’t know if it’s possible, but it feels like there's more people than the other nights,” she confesses. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the truth; fans sneaking into the pit are much more common when workers are distracted, even if they try their best.

He laughs, “guess we’ll see, all I know is tonight will be special.”

Y/N enjoyed this downtime with Harry. While they knew a conversation was waiting to happen, they simply chose to enjoy this final night in London before continuing on the road for the next few weeks. Y/N knew how she felt, but this was not the time or place to have this discussion. It’s one she would be waiting for in the days to come.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Got a surprise for tonight.” Harry stole a kiss and backed away from her. Y/N could see a twinkle in his eye and knew he had found her favorite song. Y/N knows he went to her Mum. She was the only one who knew. While ‘Fine Line’ was special and he played it every night, she wondered if he would play it for her.

Y/N doesn’t always watch the show in the audience; sometimes, she is side-stage dancing with Felix and playing air guitar. Then there are times they’re in the green room eating while watching Harry play through the TV in their room, but tonight, Y/N joins his family and watches from the right side of the stage. Anne said they’re close enough that he can spot them but not enough to distract him. For the last week here, Y/N had met most of his friends and family; there would even be a celebration at the end of the night where more people would attend. Y/N knew Harry would be the man of the hour and had decided she’d hang for an hour before heading home. While she selfishly wanted to monopolize all his time, Y/N knew she couldn’t. She’d see him on their flight to Wales in a few days.

“He’s got quite a big crush on you,” Gemma nudges her shoulder. “I would know I’m his older sister.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Then I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“My brother’s a shy guy. When he’s onstage, he shines so bright, but when he walks off, he’s back to being my shy brother who, for the life of me, is awful at starting conversations. He cares so much for everyone in his life. Once you’re in, you have a friend with him for life.” Gemma tells Y/N, and she knows it’s as much a welcoming as it is a warning.

“I-I think he’s amazing. Fuck, I’ve kept a distance for a while only because I wasn’t certain if he was genuine. But repeatedly, he proves to go above and beyond for anyone. Being home puts many things in perspective for me,” Y/N sighs and offers Gemma a timid smile. “I’d be lucky to be given any relationship with Harry.”

Gemma’s laugh rings loud, causing their mums to look over at them, but Gemma waves them off. Gemma links her arm with Y/N and declares them dance partners for the night. “You’re a good person, I can tell. And even if I couldn't, my mum could, she adores you already. Think she plays your music more than Harry.”

Y/N gasps in surprise, “please tell me Harry knows!” Gemma shakes her head. “Oh my gosh, he said I write sad music.”

“Well, he writes horny pop songs,” Gemma chips in.

Y/N falls into a fit of giggles, “he does!”

“You write rock mixed with sadness and a few pop influences.”

Y/N feels her face heat up, knowing Gemma is clearly a fan of her music. It always overwhelms her, but knowing that Gemma, Harry’s sister, enjoys her music is a big win for her. It brings her a lot of joy. Y/N always had an easy time conversing with people, but she feared making relationships and connections. It’s a reason her circle is tight-knit, but chatting with Gemma makes her hope that a new friendship could start here.

The night is spent dancing and singing at the top of their lungs or as loud as Y/N knows she’s allowed without messing up her voice. After Mitch’s incredible solo for ‘She,’ Harry walked to the middle of the catwalk with the ladies of his band. It seemed as if every fan knew what song was coming as Y/N saw friends embrace each other. Y/N walked over to her mother, knowing her Mumma related a little too closely to the song. However, the familiar notes to ‘Matilda didn’t start; instead, it was a soft guitar intro. Reina pulled Y/N tight into her arms. This was the surprise Harry had mentioned.

Harry finds his mum and sister hugging as he sings, but he keeps searching until his eyes land on Y/N, who is being embraced by her mother as she sings along to every word of “Sweet Creature” while Harry has no idea what this song means to her, she knows what it means to him and his sister. There are many ways to interpret his songs, and he’s glad Y/N connected with this one. He’s happy he could give Y/N and her mother this moment for it to become theirs.

It’s hard keeping his emotions under control for the entire show, but he does his best. He remembers to thank his family and promises Wembley he’ll see them soon. When Harry runs off the stage that night, he knows he left his heart out there for every single person. It’s something he knows he is going to get back with a lot more love-filled into it.

There is a celebration that Jeff hosted for everyone wanting a perfect end to four sold-out nights in the city that changed his life and has now become his home. Harry sees his crew mingling. He sees Y/N’s band mixing with his band. It’s nice to see how connected everyone has become over the last few months. The person he is searching for is talking to Glenne. He sees them laughing, and as he makes his way over to them, he is intercepted by Ben, a long-time friend. Harry bounces around the room, converses with everyone, and occasionally drinks with them. Harry had managed to keep an eye on Y/N all night until he was saying goodbye to someone, and when he turned back, he could no longer spot Y/N. Harry knows he’ll see her soon and has her number to call her, but he really wanted to hear her thoughts about tonight’s show.

Harry pulls out his phone to call her when he finds a text from her.

Y/N

Thank you for the surprise. Tonight truly was magical.

Did you enjoy the rain? Think the heavens opened up from how emotional you made everyone. I’ll see you soon. Give me a call tomorrow. xx

He pockets his phone with a smile and knows what he has with Y/N is good, and he’ll do everything in his power to make her happy for a long time.

In Wales, Y/N and Harry did not go a moment apart as if they had become each other’s shadows. Where one went, the other followed. No one questioned it because it was bound for something to happen, but what happened? No one knew. Y/N and Harry shared kisses behind closed doors, and it was theirs. It was the time to brush everything away and simply be together.

Belgium came much too soon, and there is something Harry has been meaning to ask. He’s lying on Y/N’s hotel bed, knowing they have a few days before their show, and Harry’s dying to take Y/N out on a date.

“Sweetheart,” Harry calls out for her.

“In a minute.”

She walks out of the bathroom a minute later, her skincare finished for the night. They had arrived a few hours ago, and Harry quickly approached her.

“Beautiful.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t stop her face from heating up at the compliment. “Sweet talker.”

“Only yours,” Harry sing-songs.

She lies down with him. “Any big plans in Belgium, H?”

“A sold-out show,” he teases.

“Well, obviously.” She plays with a loose thread on her shirt. “Meant sightseeing.”

Harry shrugs and scoots closer, reaching down to take her hand in his. “Not really sure. Thought sleeping would be a good start.”

“Don’t be silly. You and Brad love an early morning workout.”

Harry reaches out and pokes her nose, making her scrunch her face in surprise. “No need to be jealous. Early days with Brad mean free days with you, sweets.”

He had a point. Y/N deflates because while Belgium is famously known for its waffles, she doesn’t want to explore alone. She also knows it is harder for Harry to simply be out. “It’s simply we have time to explore cities I’ve never visited before, and while I selfishly want to ask you to roam the city with me, I know it’s not possible.”

“Hey,” he speaks softly. Her hand stays cradled to his chest, all his attention Y/N. His eyes say everything he hasn’t voiced yet. “We can walk around any city aimlessly. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

��Harry,” she breathes out. “You–”

“Why can’t I? Simply because others will look or because I’m this big name. Don’t I deserve the same respect as others to simply be.”

“You do. Of course, you do.”

“Then, don’t worry about anything else. I promise I will be there if you ask me to be somewhere or want to go to a chocolate-making class.” Harry’s words fill her with hope. Hope that whatever this is will turn into something more, something special.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I-I don’t want to go to a chocolate class.”

Harry falls into a fit of giggles, leaning in close to press kisses to her cheeks, not caring that she tries to push him away because he knows she likes it, knows she craves his touch as much as he does hers. “Would you go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Y/N freezes, not having expected him to ask her. She always kept it at the back of her mind, but now he’s here asking for more. “A date?” She repeats. “With me?”

Harry’s laugh rings loud, “you’re kind of who I’m asking.”

She wants to blurt out yes, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it back. Instead, he thinks about it for a second, wanting to make Harry sweat for a second. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow? I can plan a whole day out for us.”

Y/N breaks out a huge smile; dates usually last an hour or two, but she has Harry wanting to spend the entire day with her. She knows this is unconventional and that they have already spent so much time together that it will now only be outside the four walls of a hotel room.

“Tomorrow is perfect,” she agrees.

Harry bids her goodnight and promises to be here at eight with a coffee for her to start the day.

True to his word, the following morning, Harry is there with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. The smell of fresh bread reaches her, and Y/N knows this is a fantastic start. Harry leads them out of the hotel room and onto the street, promising walking would be better.

Making it to their first destination, it’s a Botanical Garden, and Y/N practically shines with happiness. From the moment they walk in, they are met with blooming plants. They find out it’s pretty empty, not many people picking a garden for their first visit of the day. Y/N roams around, with Harry trailing close behind. She doesn’t realize Harry is taking photos of her every few minutes. Harry wanted to capture the entire day, and seeing her beauty through his eyes was something to behold.

“H, come on!” Y/N turns to him with a stretched-out hand, and he’d be a fool not to take it. They spend a few hours roaming around, stopping to take pictures and sitting on benches as they take in all the beauty, never letting go of each other’s hands.

Y/N knew it was always easy with Harry, but she let every touch linger a bit longer in this new context of being on a date. Harry told her it was time for the next destination, and while she didn’t know what it was, she knew the day would only get better.

“Did you know fries are actually Belgian and not French?” Harry tells Y/N as they share a small plate outside a shop.

Y/N chews a fry, tilting her head, thinking his words over. “Weird to call them French.”

It turns out Harry had no real plan for them besides the gardens, but was too worried to tell Y/N. She laughed and promised him she didn’t mind. Spending time with him was more than enough. Aimlessly walking is her favorite pastime when she’s in a new city, but doing it here with Harry, she knows it will never be the same again.

They walked in and out of shops for the next few hours, laughing at shared stories and buying knickknacks for family members. Harry dragged Y/N into a chocolate shop, where the worker was kind enough to offer them samples. After buying too much, Y/N promised to share it with the crew. It was too good for them not to share.

After some time, Harry pulled Y/N to sit on a bench with him. It gave them a beautiful view of the sun that was beginning to set. They sat in silence for a while, comfortable enough to enjoy each other’s company without saying anything.

“Did you know I once wrote a song about Rapunzel?”

“The princess?” Harry asks.

“Mhm…I loved the film, and I thought Rapunzel had lost so much time being trapped that, being free, she didn’t know where to start. It was not my best.”

Harry nudges her shoulder, “doubt that.”

She shrugs, “who knows, maybe it was amazing, but I’ll never know, never thought to record it.”

“What made you want to pursue music?” Harry asks. He has her hand in his lap, twisting the ring she wears on her pinky finger with her father’s initials.

Her father comes to mind, “I was really young when we lost my dad. He loved music; he was the type to love it all, from Metal to pop to Spanish. He worked as a producer exclusively in London and with close artists, he had never wanted anything to take him from home. He loved my mum too much to ever want to part with her for long. My dad always had music playing. My mum said it was the first thing I reacted to when she was pregnant with me. By the time I was born, music lulled me to sleep and was the first thing I heard when I woke up. By the time we lost him, my Mumma played his records to keep his memory alive. She only bought new ones on his birthday and anniversary. I didn’t realize until I was much older that it also connected them.” Y/N pauses to send Harry a smile, and he answers by squeezing her hand. “My mum knew I had a good pair of lungs during my theater days and pushed me to pursue more if I wanted. I taught myself guitar and took piano lessons because I wanted to improve. It wasn’t always easy, but I loved learning, so it only motivated me. I wanted to share music because I wanted to connect with others and proudly say I’m doing that.” Y/N feels overwhelmed but is happy she shared this with Harry. She can’t remember the last time she was this honest with anyone.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Harry kisses her cheek. “I-I love seeing you on stage. You radiate this energy that—” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it makes you want to be part of it. I think you’re one of the most amazing songwriters we have in our generation.”

“Harry,” she shakes her head to get him to stop, but it urges him on.

“I mean it. You’re incredible, and I’ll forever scream it from the rooftops if you want me to.”

Y/N feels her face flush and turns to pull Harry in for a hug. She breathes him in for a long moment, “I–thank you.”

After the sunset, they walk back to their hotel. They linger outside Y/N’s door, not ready to say goodbye even after a long day together.

“We–”

“I–”

“You first,” they reply in unison.

Harry gestures for her to go first.

“I was going to say if you want, we can freshen up and have dinner in my room, maybe watch a movie,” she asks nervously.

He nods eagerly, “yes, please.”

“Good, good. Say an hour?”

“Perfect.”

Harry lets her open her hotel room, but before she can wave goodbye, he pushes her against the entrance and leans in to kiss her. Y/N sighs against his lips. She has wanted to do all this all day. His hands hold her waist firmly while Y/N fists his shirt to keep him close.

Y/N pulls back to catch her breath, “been wanting to do that all day.”

Harry smirks, “well, here’s another one.”

His lips are soft, but the kiss is fast and needy. There has been a build-up to this moment all day. Y/N lets him guide her as he explores her mouth. She moans as he nips her bottom lip. Y/N pulls him closer, needing to feel him against her. She’s so lost in the kiss she jumps back in surprise when the door slams shut. Harry rests his forehead against hers, his breath heavy. “Maybe not the smartest thing we’ve done.”

Y/N bites her lip, “probably not.”

Harry thumbs at her bottom lip, and she releases it. “Please stop, or I’m going to kiss you again.”

“I don’t mind,” she confesses.

“Y/N,” Harry groans. “I’m going to go.”

“But you’ll be back?” She asks softly.

“In an hour,” he assures her. “Pick a movie for us.”

“Bye Harry.”

Harry kisses her cheek, knowing that if he gets another taste of her, it will lead to more kissing, which they clearly do not want to rush. “Bye, sweetheart.”

Y/N shuts the door behind him, a large grin on her face. She’s falling hard, and she’s falling fast.

“Vienna is probably one of the most beautiful songs ever created,” June tells Y/N, who’s lying on the floor of Harry’s stage. “The beauty of getting older.”

“June, you hated that song when you were younger,” Quinn chimes in.

“Am I not allowed to change my opinion?” She yells. Quinn simply puts his hands up, deciding it is not worth defending.

“City of Music is nothing I thought it would be,” Felix shares.

“What were you expecting?” Y/N asks curiously.

Felix laughs, “definitely fewer parks.”

“Oi, is this what we pay you to do?” Harry shouts as he walks over to them dressed in blue jeans and a “Pleasing” sweater.

“Y/N, save us, please!” They all collectively yell.

Harry snickers at her, knowing they might not have told anyone about the dates they’ve been having in every city that usually end in one of them staying the night in the other’s room. It started off with neither of them wanting to say goodnight. Harry laid on her blankets while she tucked herself, holding hands; they dozed off to sleep. It was a no-brainer after that because they both enjoyed waking up to one another. Nothing goes on except a bit of kissing. She can’t say she hasn’t been craving something more but knows there is no need to rush her time with Harry.

“It’s chisme time,” Y/N tells him. “Anything to share.”

“I love Gossip.” Harry takes a seat next to Y/N, leaving not a single space between them. “Did you know we’re not having soup for lunch?”

Everyone collectively groans, “banished, you’re no longer welcome,” Quinn shooed him away.

“Hey now, I got a better one,” Harry leans in closer. He glances at Y/N before telling the others to get close, leaving Y/N out of their makeshift circle.

Y/N sits back, relaxed; with Harry, there is no need to worry about anything. June and Felix lean back, “Oh,” at the news while Quinn looks confused. He looks at Y/N, then back to Harry, then again to Y/N.

“Lies. Not real. She doesn’t have the game,” Quinn says while looking at her.

While Y/N has no idea what Harry whispered to them, June’s grin says it all. She knows it has to do with the dates they’ve been going on. Y/N had mentioned she liked Harry, but they all assumed she would do nothing about it.

“H, what did you do? It seems like they’re broken now.” Y/N points out to her two loudest bandmates, who have not said a single word, and Quinn, who has started to pace around on stage.

Harry leans back on his arms as he takes in the scene before him. “Simply told them I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. Had no idea you were keeping me as your dirty little secret.”

Y/N quickly shakes her head, “no, never, it’s ju—” she cuts herself off, seeing that his dimples are on display and not an ounce of sadness or pain. “You’re annoying.”

“But you like me!”

“Whatever.”

“You brushed of my question.”

“More like a statement,” she rebuttals. “Clearly not how you’re going to ask me.”

Harry sends her a cheeky wink, “course not.”

“Then you’ll have to wait for my answer until then. Now shoo, I’ve got to rehearse and answer all their dumb questions.”

Harry kissed her cheek with a loud “muah” and promised to head to her room tonight.

There was a sense of anxiety that had been with Y/N all day. Harry had made a bold statement tonight, and she wondered if he did it to give her the time to see if that was what she wanted. Harry was not like someone she had ever been with. She never had to speak on her emotions; she always went with the flow, but Harry is giving her the choice here. Y/N is nowhere near ready for the conversation, and it seems Harry knows because when he arrives in her room and sees the stress in her eyes, he takes her in his arms and tells her it’s time for bed.

Harry takes a shower while Y/N changes into an old tour shirt and boxers. Harry enters the bedroom to find her lying in the middle of the king-sized bed.

“You look adorable.”

“Cute enough for cuddles?”

Harry laughs, “always.”

He makes his way to her after double-checking the lock on her door and ensuring his phone is off. He lifts the blankets and settles behind Y/N, his hands slipping under her shirt and pulling her towards him. Y/N sighs and melts against him.

“There’s no pressure to have this conversation. I want you to know where I stand. I know I might not have gone about it the best way, but I want you to know you have as much control over this relationship as I do.”

With Harry’s reassuring words, Y/N felt at ease. She knew she was overthinking everything, but Harry understood her like no one else had.

“I like you, Harry,” she confessed. “I like you a lot. I-I-how you manage to always have the right words escapes me, but I’m thankful. I like you, and I like where this is going.”

Harry squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I like you too. Promise, I’m sticking around.”

Y/N knows she’s lucky to have Harry.

“¡Hola Barcelona! Yo me llamo Y/N, gracias por acompañarnos esta noche.” The crowd cheers after hearing her Spanish. “I know, right, pretty good. My grandpa taught me a living legend he still is. Think he’ll be proud. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

Y/N, as soon as she gets off stage, feels a heaviness in her heart because, after tonight, there are only three shows left. It means not seeing her friends and the new friends she has made for a long time. Y/N is jumping straight into a tour in two months, meaning she’s got to start rehearsals in a month. While she doesn’t know what comes next, she does hope to finish her album before she heads out on tour. Harry had accompanied her to the studio, and even Mitch had tagged along, wanting to see her process. It led to them playing guitar in a few of her songs. These memories she’s made throughout this tour will live within her new album.

Y/N didn’t know how much her life would change by accepting to be Harry’s opening act. She knows she should bask in the happiness while she can, but the reminder lingers in her mind. Y/N finds Harry and is not surprised to find him with Mitch. They’re speaking about Mitch’s album while Sarah is lying on the couch with her son, who’s napping. There has been so much to happen since this tour started, and Y/N never gets tired of hearing the stories.

“Dinner?” Harry raises his head when he hears her voice. Mitch waves at her but doesn’t offer her a word; instead focuses on Sarah.

Harry rushes over to her, wrapping her in a hug. “Promise I watched. Mitch stole me away quickly.”

Y/N laughs. Harry not watching didn’t even cross her mind. “You’re fine. Wouldn’t blame you, boring for you with the same ol’ setlist each night.”

“Hey now,” Harry defends. “That’s my favorite singer, you're insulting.”

“Oh, Stevie Nicks is not going to like that,” Mitch comments.

“Wanker!” Harry gives Mitch the middle finger and guides them to get soup, Harry’s favorite food, before a show. It’s known to settle his nerves.

“That’s okay, Hozier is mine,” Y/N chirps, sharing a laugh with Mitch.

“Irish tend to be superior,” Mitch agrees.

Harry walks out with Y/N, sending Mitch a wave. Harry walked them to his green room, requesting his soup and Y/N’s sandwich to be sent. She told him she’d pick it up, but Harry shared he wanted a minute alone with her. Y/N hadn’t technically been with Harry long; it’s only been two weeks, give or take a few hours, but she’d known him for months. There was no need to talk as Y/N settled on the couch with him. She felt tired after her set, all the adrenaline gone. Harry asked her for dinner, and then she’d watch Harry from her dressing room with the rest of her band. The final days were approaching, and Y/N knew she’d prepare to say goodbye to them, too, even if it was for a few weeks.

They settled in the silence, no need for conversation. Y/N was content to be wrapped in Harry’s arms as he closed his eyes, breathing her in. Y/N had not let herself think about the end of the tour because she wanted to enjoy every moment, and now, with the end so close, she honestly never pictured herself falling in love with Harry. She knows she wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. She had him and would protect this relationship for as long as she was allowed to have him and even long after.

After a successful show, Harry came to sleep in Y/N’s room with the promise he wanted to be close to her. Y/N was not one to deny him of any request, not when he kept her safe. Y/N woke up feeling too warm with Harry’s hand flat against her warm skin. He loved physical touch and kept his hold on her even in his sleep. Y/N shimmied behind him but stopped when she felt how hard he was. She knew it was normal, but a part of her wanted to take care of it and take the next step with him.

“Baby, you got to stop moving,” Harry groaned in her ear. Y/N paused, thinking he might not be on the same page but as if he could read her mind, “unless you want me to take care of you.”

Y/N stayed frozen because her mind was running wild on the possibilities that could happen. She had dreamed about Harry taking care of her, but now, making it happen, Y/N was at a loss for words.

Harry turned Y/N, making her lay on her back, and he shifted above her with a gentle smile. “Morning, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” she breathed out.

Y/N knew she didn’t look her best, with tired eyes and crazy hair, not even mentioning she hadn’t brushed her teeth, but by the way, Harry was gazing at her, it was clear he wasn’t thinking the same.

“You’re beautiful. Thought you were a figment of my imagination, but here you are, spread out under me.”

She feels her face heat up, loving how warm his words make her feel.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give you whatever you ask for.” She knows he means it. He’s a giver. It’s what brings him the most joy.

“Want you to touch me,” she spoke softly.

Harry kneeled over her, careful not to let his entire body sit on her. He ran his fingers up her arm, biting back a smile at the goosebumps that raised over her body. Y/N’s breathing slowed down as her eyes never left his. “Where, baby?”

Y/N shimmied, her face burning. She couldn’t, but she knew he’d continue to play with her if she didn't. His hands now tracing over her stomach and up to her breast. Y/N pushed against his hand, but he pulled away, tutting at her greediness.

She didn’t have the words, but Y/N guided his hand, resting on her stomach to her wet pussy. Harry moaned when he felt how ready she was for him. “Here, baby. Need me here?”

“Please, Harry. Need you to take care of me,” she begs.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Consent had never felt so sexy.

“Yes, please, Harry.”

“You’re not wearing panties.”

Y/N has to hold back a laugh because she is begging him to make her come, and he is focused on her having no panties. “I run hot, you know that.”

He glided his fingers around her pussy, spreading around her wetness. She let out a needy moan when he slid his fingers inside her. The feel of her clenching around his fingers made him eager to add another. Harry loved seeing her like this. It made him want to give her everything. In and out, he moved his fingers inside her, rubbing and stroking her swollen lips. She laid their legs spread out, head back, taking it all. Harry knew she was close, but he was greedy for a taste.

Harry lowered his mouth to her stomach, pushing her shirt up, allowing him to kiss her breasts before continuing down the path calling for him. He kissed along her thighs, and Y/N felt her breathing slow down. He continued with his slow kisses along her hips up to her belly and back down again. Sliding his hands under her ass, he pulled her closer.

“Oh baby, I need to taste you.” His warm breath tickled my skin as he lowered his mouth and bit into the inside of her thigh. Y/N let out a loud moan, urging him to continue. He kissed her repeatedly, knowing it would bruise. He was glad to mark her his.

Y/N let out a soft cry as his tongue licked up her thigh. She needed everything as he moved closer to where she was ready for him. He slowly dragged his tongue through her folds.

Fuck.

“Harry, Harry,” she chanted his name.

Y/N could only beg for more as Harry muttered something about how delicious she tasted. As he licked into her, he slid one finger into her as his thumb rubbed against her clit. In seconds, Y/N was lifting to meet each thrust of his finger.

“You sound so beautiful with my name on your lips,” he dived back in. “Want me to make you mine?”

“Yes,” Y/N moaned. “All yours. Only yours.”

Y/N was writhing and wiggling anything to keep him pressed against her clit as his tongue thrust inside her. Everything was on fire; every nerve in her body was firing off. He slipped another finger, and Y/N exploded. It all became so much, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as she felt her orgasm rip through her. Y/N felt Harry slow down, lazily moving away from her, with no apparent rush in wanting to leave her. Harry slowly sits up; she sees hooded eyes, her eyes focused on the mess she’d made on his face. Harry raised his hand and slipped his wet fingers in his mouth, cleaning the last of her juices. Y/N knows they’d get going for a second round if he's not careful.

“Let me kiss you,” she begged, her voice rough.

Harry ran a tongue over his lips, making a show of cleaning her off him, “not ready to share yet.”

“Nasty,” she chastised before she leaned up, placing her hand on the back of his neck and pulling him for a heated kiss. “Will you come for me, Harry?” She mumbled against his lips.

She pushed away, removing her shirt, throwing it to the side, and lying back, allowing him the view of her breasts, her nipples hard as she begged him to come. Harry slid down his briefs, and Y/N gasped at how beautiful he looked hard and thick because of her. Y/N reached for him, but Harry shook his head, a clear sign this would be quick. Harry wet his hand, moving it steadily up and down his base. Y/N was mesmerized. She played with her tits as he stroked himself, knowing he loved the show.

“Come for me, Harry,” she purred. “Show me how good I helped make you feel. Show me how much you loved making me come. The feel of your tongue is something I never want to forget. How well you take care of me.”

“Fuck, baby. Didn’t know you could be so dirty.”

“Promise to take you down my throat next time. Let you use me any way you want. Please, Harry, come for me.”

That was all he needed for him to come on her skin.

“You’re a dirty girl,” he comments.

Y/N winks, “only for you.”

As they settled down from the high, Harry cleaned her up with an old shirt of his. They stayed cuddled on the large bed, sitting in silence. There was so much said between them, but they both knew they meant every word. It would be only up from here, even if only a few days were left.

Y/N has enjoyed meeting new people, but this tour introduced her to new friends. Harry’s band is lovely and quite large; he has his main band, but during the disco medley, as he likes to call it, he brings out the horns. She found herself overtime making her way to their dressing room, watching them get ready for the night. Throughout her time on the tour, she earned her spot in their room as she watched them get ready before her set or after.

Tonight was no different. Y/N was talking with Lorren and Parris about their plans after the tour. They shared they had shows lined up, but a break was the first thing they were looking forward to, and Y/N had to agree.

“Lorren, can I ask you something?”

Lorren turned to Y/N with a bright smile, “well, of course.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could add stars to my face. Quite good at my eyeliner but shit at anything else,” Y/N confessed.

Lorren looked thrilled. “Yes, please, yes. Thank you for asking.” Lorren stood up from her chair, giving it a pat for Y/N to make her way over. Lorren complimented Y/N’s skin and makeup, stating it was flawless. Y/N thought it better be she was religious with her skincare. She learned over time less was more and stuck with it. Sometimes, not even Y/N could escape her eyebags when she worked too long in the studio.

She sat perfectly still for Lorren, continuing to talk to Kalia about her new musical release. It was something everyone had been waiting for; they were all incredibly proud. They segway to talking about Pauli, who, thanks to him, had brought them all on from the North America tour to right here in Lisbon and a final show in Italy.

Y/N soon felt the room fall quiet. She got lost in her thoughts when a shutter made her snap her eyes open. It was only Georgia, her photographer, taking photos. “Scared me, Georgie.”

Georgie laughed, “sorry, but you did tell me to capture everything.”

Y/N wondered what she meant by that; before she could ask, Lorren declared her finished. She looked in the mirror and gasped at how perfectly they blended with the purple eyeshadow she used today. Y/N noticed Lorren added glitter to give it that extra glimmer.

She hugged Lorren, thanking her over and over again. She would have continued if Georgie didn’t remind her she had to change. Y/N wished the room luck and rushed to her dressing room, where her outfit was laid out.

One final look in the mirror, and Y/N’s ready to go. She walks out, happy to find Zahara, who came to celebrate the end of tour with her. “You made it!” Y/N cheers.

Zahara wraps her in a hug. “No thanks to stupid United. Canceled my flight twice.”

Y/N winces, “don’t even want to imagine the conversation you had.”

“It was not pretty,” Zahara shares.

Y/N stands side stage with Zahara, chatting while Ash helps secure her mic pack while Zahara makes her promise not to do anything she wouldn’t do. Zahara doesn’t even know what she’s asking of her, especially because she has no idea who Y/N has been kissing behind closed doors.

She rushes on stage; her signature mini skirt is back tonight, paired with a baby tee Harry ordered for her. It’s black and has bedazzled constellations all around, a big reason she asked Lorren for stars on her face. Y/N spent a large portion of her morning with Harry, thanking him for the gift.

Harry watches Y/N sing her heart out to the crowd. This song Harry knows Y/N wrote when she was going through a bad breakup. While it hurts him to think about her with anyone else, he also knows he’s started to write endless songs about her and knows she’s done the same. Zahara greets him courtly, and he wonders if she knows.

“Listen, Harry.” He steps closer, but Zahara never looks at him. “If you do anything–and I mean anything to smear her image, I’ll make you regret it. This girl has fought tooth and nail to be where she is.” Harry sees the fire in her eyes. “Y/N doesn’t open up easily, and I know you wormed your way in. You’re a good guy, but even a good person can break a heart. You know what it’s like to be talked about.”

Harry knows first hand how ruthless the media is. “I would never want that for her.”

Zahara sighs, “I know. She’s special, and I think she’s proved that even more because of this opportunity you gave her.”

“I-I- didn’t expect to fall for her,” Harry defends because he hadn’t, but one conversation with her, and there was no stopping it.

“She’s got that charm,” Zahara laughs. “Look at me here to watch her finish a tour when I’ve got so much to do. You’d do anything knowing you put that smile on her face.”

Harry knows Zahara is right and goes back to watching Y/N. He can’t help it when he takes out his phone to record her because he wants to remember these moments of her on stage. He knows her setlist by heart and knows she’s got three songs left. What he doesn’t expect is for her to shoot a wink towards Zahara, and then they watch her jump off the stage. She makes it look effortless, but he’s worried and moves forward to try to stop her. Zahara shoots her arm out to stop him. “Slow down, rockstar. She’s got this.”

“You’re okay with this?”

“Oh, I’m furious,” she confesses, “but she did it with me in the audience, knowing I’d keep her safe.”

Y/N walks through the barricade, serenading fans and security in front and behind her. It’s the only thing that brings him a bit of comfort. The cameras follow her around, showing her on the large screen, making him laugh because he can see how much she enjoys it. She walks the entire catwalk, hugging fans who are clearly there for her as much as they are for him. She reads a few signs, and by the time she returns to the stage, she has friendship bracelets lining her wrist, a shirt on her shoulder, and two bouquets of flowers. Y/N laughs in their direction, clearly noting the disbelief on both their faces. Y/N continues the show, giving 100% energy until she sings her final note.

She hurries off straight into Zahara’s open arms. While he can’t hear what Zahara is whispering to Y/N, he knows it has to be about him for her face to look flushed and not from her hour-long performance. Zahara pushed her towards Harry, who was waiting for his turn. Y/N settles in his embrace as he kisses her head repeatedly. “You’re mental, absolutely insane.”

Y/N giggles against his chest, “how rude.”

Harry puts his hands on her cheeks, pulling her back the slightest bit to get her to look at him. “You were brilliant! A shining star, you have the crowd in the palm of your hand.” Y/N’s smile shines at his words.

“You’ve got lovely fans. They make it easy.”

He holds back from kissing her but promises to see her later.

Y/N watches him go, not caring that Zahara and the band will tease her endlessly for it. She doesn’t mind one bit.

“I’ve been on tour with one of my favorite artists, Y/N Y/LN.” Harry lets the crowd cheer for her, knowing Y/N is waiting for him to call her onstage. “She’s got amazing songs, and lucky for you all, I asked her to sing a song with me for you all. So everyone welcome Y/N to the stage.” In her outfit from earlier, Y/N walks out, guitar strapped to her chest, waving to the fans. She sees hundreds of phones in the air as she stands at her mic stand. They had rehearsed today, with Harry promising he was ready. He seemed to know the entire song by heart and had his band learn it. “Let’s go!”

Y/N never imagined being on stage singing her dirtiest song with Harry to a sold-out stadium. Y/N can’t seem to look away from him; it has her bringing out all her sensual dance moves when she plays this song. It’s a reason she cut it from her setlist tonight to play it specifically with him. When it comes to an end, Y/N turns to the Love band, giving them a round of applause.

“How about one more?” Harry asks Y/N into the microphone.

She smirks, “I'd be honored.”

Y/N hands off her guitar to Chloe, waiting to pack it away for her. Then, he prances back over as Harry begins ‘Daylight.’ Y/N had always enjoyed this song, the sweetness packed in the lyrics. It's a song about a lover coming and going. While they’re home, he’s happy and full of joy, but once they’re gone, the mood falls, and he’s left missing them. It’s a feeling she’s familiar with, and she knows that Harry has lost a person due to being away for so long. It does make her think about her finished album and how it was influenced by everyone around her, romantical or not.

As she comes over to sing into Harry’s mic, not minding the closeness, the cheers get louder as they stay together. She feels Harry’s eyes burning into the side of her head, and she dances away, letting him continue. When it’s her turn again, she returns to his mic, looking straight at him. She smirks, singing his lyrics. She sees his eyes darken and knows she’s in for a fun night.

Once the song ends, Harry lets the crowd give Y/N a long applause. Harry pulls her in for a tight hug, “thank you for doing this with me.”

Y/N gives him a light kiss on the cheek, thankful her face is hidden from the crowd, “thank you for inviting me.”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

Y/N laughs because she feels the same way. “Promise, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done. Go have fun, rockstar.”

She runs off stage straight into June’s teasing arms. Y/N doesn’t even mind not when her thoughts are running wild watching Harry continue with the show.

“Babes, we’ve got to spend the show down there,” Felix begs, pointing to the crowd of fans leaning against the barrier.

Y/N’s eyes widen, “in the pit?”

They nod. Y/N knows they won’t stop until they do, so she compromises with them. They’ll go in between the catwalk and barricade for the last songs.

“I’m down,” Quinn quickly says.

“Can you get Harry to wet us?” June asks seriously.

Dear God. What is she going to do with them?

Once they’re down watching Harry prance around, he changes it up and plays a surprise song that makes them all lose their mind. Followed by screaming their lungs to ‘As It Was,’ nothing better than yelling “Leave America” with a sold-out crowd. By the time Kiwi rolls around, Harry has spotted them and jokes for Y/N to give him her number. There are many oohs in response, but Y/N sends him a wink. The band got what they wished for, and Harry gave them a good splash, one Y/N avoided by hiding under Quinn’s jacket. Harry is about to do his signature exit when he freezes and spots the cup of beer in her hand. She offers it to him as a joke but complies when he signals for her to pass it over. He mouths, “thank you, baby,” and the next thing she knows, he’s doing the whale with her beer. Fuck, if she didn’t want to get him naked now more than ever, as she saw the beer run down his neck and bare chest.

“Fuck me, I’m glad one of us is fucking him,” June mutters to her.

Y/N doesn’t bother correcting her friend. As her friends walk her back, she’s lost in her head because she enjoys being with Harry. Y/N knows she took her time discovering her feelings and allowing herself to fall for Harry; now that she has, it’s all-consuming. She is filled with so much safety and love; she’s used to being overwhelmed, but Harry makes her feel at peace. Having these conversations about what they are to each other is stupid, but she knows she owes it to Harry to tell him how she’s feeling.

She walks to his dressing room to find him changed and has his bag swung on his shoulder, meaning he’s leaving. “Heading out?”

He turns his head when he hears her voice. “Yeah, beat traffic.”

Y/N nods and stays quiet. She knows she’ll see him back at the hotel but feels like this can’t wait.

“Harry, I—”

“H, we got to go,” Jeff interrupts, rushing in behind her.

Harry frowns but doesn’t argue. He stands in front of her, reaching for her hand. He intertwines her fingers between his and pulls her along with him. “Come with me,” he begs.

Y/N begins to tell him she can’t when Quinn swings her bag at her, telling her she’s good to go. Harry gives her a deadpan stare, waiting for her to try to provide him with a reason why she can’t, but decides to give in. “Lead the way, H.”

The car ride to their hotel is quiet. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder as Harry comes down from the night's adrenaline. Her hand rests on his lap. She knows they will leave for Italy tomorrow. While excited for the last show, she’s sad it’s all ending. Y/N and Harry walk in together through a private entrance and say goodnight to Jeff as they head into Harry’s room. Her stuff never made it to her room, and it won’t in Italy either.

Harry heads to the shower while Y/N heads to the sink to remove all her makeup. This all feels domestic to her, doing this routine with Harry as if they’ve done it for years.

“You taking my beer was pretty bold,” Y/N comments when she hears the water shut off.

He dries off before exiting. She sees a towel wrapped around his waist and laughs when she sees it fits him a bit too small. “Thought you were offering it.”

“Ever heard of a cheers,” she teases.

Harry kisses her cheek and promises to warm her side of the bed. While Y//N showers and does her skincare, she thinks of what she will say to Harry. Her mind is going crazy, and she wants to get it in order before she just spills it all to him.

“Baby, you coming?”

Y/N replies to give her a second. She finds Harry sitting in bed, his book on his lap and the blanket untucked, waiting for her to settle in. Y/N kneels on the covers facing Harry, knowing she has to get the words out tonight.

“Need to tell you something,” she breathes out.

Harry looks at her concerned but gives her his undivided attention. “Course, love.”

“I-I like you. I know I’ve said that, but I like waking up with you. I love going on dates with you. Holding hands brings the biggest smile to my face. Your hugs bring me so much love and safety. I enjoy having conversations about everything and nothing, but I also love sitting in silence with you.”

“Y/N,” Harry begins, but she shakes her head. He reaches for her hand and holds it tight.

“I feel like it’s so soon to say these words, but I hope you feel it in every action and touch. I’m head over heels for you, Harry. I-I know I made you wait; I had to figure out my feelings, but I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am of you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asks. Once those words are out, she sinks her face in her hands. “God, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

“Hey, hey,” she hears Harry moving, then feels his hands pulling her hands away. He’s careful not to pressure her but lets him see her. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Y/N shakes her head; she really said all that.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I appreciate it. I like knowing where you stand. Do you want to know how I feel?” Y/N nods her head. “Well, love. I’m crazy about you, too. I like sitting with you and watching you play the piano. I love trading books we’ve finished reading because yours always have different annotations for me to find. I like seeing you watching me perform. I love watching you perform for an audience, and I can’t wait to see a show soon where the entire audience is there for you. I’m falling in love, and I know you’ll be there to catch me.”

She feels her eyes well up with tears because Y/N has never been good at expressing her emotions, but with Harry, she’d conquer every fear to make sure she can make him feel loved and seen. She presses her lips against his and melts against the familiar taste. With a soft moan, she shifted close as his mouth opened over hers, and his tongue slid between her lips. She might have initiated the kiss, but Harry seems to be the one who always takes control. She was always okay with that. She tilted her head so he could kiss her more deeply. He didn’t need more encouragement. The kiss became intense; heat flashed through her, making her thighs clench, and while she would love to take this further, she knew they needed to rest.

His hands trailed up her nightshirt, and she broke away to let out a loud moan when she felt him squeeze her ass. “H-h-harry, not tonight,” she managed to make out.

Harry slows his hands, bringing them back to her waist. “But we can kiss,” he asks against her lips.

“All night if you want.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he teases.

Harry pats her ass and helps her get under the covers. Y/N laughs when he turns her to be facing him. He wedges himself between her legs to be close; there’s no way of knowing where she begins, and he ends.

It’s a perfect night.

Italy has always been perfect to Y/N, from the people to the food to the views. While Y/N knows enough Italian to get around and understand it, Harry is basically fluent. He’d been practicing his speech all morning. His only break was to give Y/N one last wake-up call that had her screaming his name.

Y/N and Harry spent a few days roaming Italy together. They were officially a couple and were enjoying it. Harry kissed her every chance he could get. Y/N always had a hold of Harry, whether it be his hand or at the small of his back. It’s clear everyone knows they’re together, not that they made an announcement but because they are always spending time together. Where one goes, the other follows.

June, Quinn, Felix, and Y/N sit together in the green room, discussing their favorite moments from the tour. Quinn said in Amsterdam, some strangers let him join their bar hopping. He ended up finding he could not hold his liquor like they could. Felix shared it was playing at Slane Castle. They heard stories of never thinking it would be them on that stage. June made them all cry by stating that every moment on stage with them was special to her. June is going on a break after this, needing to go home and be with her family, while Y/N accepted that she would miss her best friend. Y/N shared it was exploring new studios while writing her new album.

“You have to play it for us soon!” Felix expresses.

Y/N nudges her friend, “who else would I show first?”

Quinn nudges her. “Someone named Harry.”

“Promise it’s almost done. Think I’m just missing an album name,” she shares, knowing she finished recording most songs.

Before the band can start throwing names at her, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry comes in with the Love band, all holding something behind their back. June narrows her eyes at Harry, not one for surprises, but Y/N knows this will be good.

“Y/N and band, thank you for joining us on an amazing, successful tour this year. I enjoyed listening to you every night,” Harry tells them honestly. Everyone echoes his words. “That being said, we got you a gift.”

They were all presented with a bag, and June and Quinn were quick to rip into it while Felix made sure not to make a mess. Y/N held the gift close to her chest but watched her friends open their presents first. June held a black sweater to her chest. It had her name embroidered on one side and Love on tour on the other. “Shit, we get some too!” June exclaims. “I was so jealous of y’all.”

Quinn pulls out a pair of shoes, “satellite stompers,” to be exact. His smile is wide, and he quickly bounces over to pull Harry in for a hug. “Thanks, man.”

Y/N doesn’t open hers because she was the one to give Harry their sizes, so she’s not expecting anything else.

June turns to Y/N, pointing a finger, “how did he know our sizes?” Y/N grins while June gasps accusingly. “I bitched and moaned about not having one. Is this a pity gift?”

Harry quickly assures her he wanted to give them to all of them in private. Everyone in the crew got some; he meant everyone from the band to Y/N’s photographer. Every person was necessary on this tour, and Harry wanted to make it known with a gift. Harry stepped close to Y/N and gestured for her to open hers. She gives him a suspicious look but does as he asks. She removes the jacket quickly, slipping it on when she spots a bow at the bottom. Y/N looks at him surprised because when she pulls it out, she sees it’s one she had shown him a few weeks ago. It’s an intricate bow with wildflowers embroidered on it. It has unique beading to create this delicate bow.

“The meadow bow,” she whispers, delicately touching the ends.

Harry’s cheeks warm when he sees her expression. Y/N blinks away her tears because it’s unreasonable to cry, but the fact that Harry listened to her when she went on about something as silly as her bows and ribbons. Y/N doesn’t think about what she’s about to do; she only knows she wants to thank Harry. Y/N hugs Harry, but she pulls away quickly, connecting their lips in a kiss. Harry is frozen for a second but promptly responds, both easily sinking into each other. The hollers and cheers make her break away, leaning her head on his chest.

“Sorry, H,” she sighs.

“Don’t mind. Think you should do it again.”

“Not again,” June yells. “You cute together, but I don’t want to see that.”

Harry promises to let them get ready.

“Will you be watching?” Quinn asks.

Harry nods, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

“The entire family is watching,” Gemma chimes in. Harry gasped, not knowing she had arrived.

“Gems!” Harry rushes over to scoop his older sister in a hug. Y/N knows when Gemma says the entire family, she means it. They all promised to sing their hearts out for him. Y/N had met most of them during the few shows in Wembley, but she was merely an opener, and now she is Harry’s girlfriend.

“Come on, Y/N. Mum wants to say hello,” Gemma calls for her as she drags Harry out. Y/N promises not to be long, but the band brushes her off, telling her they already have good company.

Y/N has the best time with Harry and his family. They share laughs about young Harry being nervous to sing in front of a crowd and now ending a tour with over 90,000 people. Anne can’t stop her tears, which makes Harry emotional, too. He stays cuddled at her side. Anne asks Y/N about her tour, and Y/N invites them to opening night. “Don’t know if you’d be able to make it, but it’d be lovely to have you there. My mum and a few cousins are attending.”

Anne reaches over Harry to squeeze her hand, promising to be there. “Course we’ll come. Your mum is lovely. Can’t wait to catch up.”

Starting off a tour in London was the right choice for her because she wants to be in her own bed before she sleeps in a different one each night again. Y/N excused herself, needing to prepare for one final Love on Tour show.

Y/N huddled her band before going on stage. “You are my favorite people. I feel so lucky to do this with you every night. One last night with June, let’s make it unforgettable.”

“I love you,” Felix shouts. They laugh, squeezing each other tight, echoing the words to each other. And with that, Y/N and the band take the stage one final time.

“Italy, you have been an absolute dream. Each night, every crowd welcomed us with open arms, and when you sing back my lyrics, that is something I will never forget. I couldn’t do it alone, though. My amazing, amazing band. Felix, June, and Quinn are my family. Without them, I would not be where I am, and I will never forget that. June is actually taking a break after this tour. She’s going away, but she’ll be back. The spot is open if Sarah Jones is looking for a job.” The crowd laughs while June shakes her head in disbelief but also knows Y/N would never pass up a chance to work with someone at the caliber that Sarah Jones is at. “Most importantly, thank you to Harry Styles for inviting me out on tour. It’s the best choice I could have ever made. You have shown me kindness from the first moment we met. Thank you for allowing me to use your stage each night, but most importantly, thank you for showing me how music inspires you to do good and always do better. This last song is dedicated to you, H.”

Y/N hurries off stage after playing “The Last Man on Earth” and runs straight to the dressing room, where she cries into June’s shoulder. This tour has her saying goodbye to her best friends but opening new opportunities because she knows there is a conversation she’s been dodging for some time now and knowing Harry today won’t end until he gets his way.

“That was beautiful. Every night, honestly.” Y/N steps away from June, wipes away her tears and is thankful she decided not to do her eyeliner tonight, or she’d look worse than she feels. Harry had come to see them all but mostly knew his girlfriend would need a bit of comfort.

“Harry, my man. Thank you,” Quinn answers, pulling him into a hug. Everyone does the same, but Y/N stands frozen. It seems everyone can pick up on the tension and give her a moment alone with him.

Harry hurries over and takes her in his arms. Y/N relaxes in his hold because he’s always had that calming effect on her. “You were wonderful. Had me in tears.”

Y/N giggles against his chest, “stop it.”

“Seriously,” he laughs, and Y/N feels it go through her. “Jeff was recording me, laughing at my tears.”

“Thank you, H. I know you said you’d watch, but knowing you were in the crowd made tonight even more special.”

Harry kisses the top of her head. “It was all you. Don’t know how I will survive without seeing you every day.”

“You can follow me on tour,” Y/N offers.

“Now that’s a thought.”

They settle in silence, neither one having anything to say. Simply enjoying their time together. Y/N doesn’t know how much time passes, but she knows he’s got to get dressed.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Harry whispers into the quiet of the room.

“Harry,” Y/N pulls back to look at him. Those emerald eyes are full of love, and Y/N knows it for her. She has to let herself be happy, and it’s clear Harry is a big part of bringing that joy to her life.

“I like you,” he repeats. “And I’ll keep liking you tomorrow and every day that is to come. I’m letting you know how I feel. We’ve discussed it, but it doesn’t mean I can’t remind you. Will forever be crazy about you.”

“I’m crazy about you, too,” Y/N breathes out. “You fill me with so much happiness.”

Harry smirks, “enough to join me on holiday for a few more days?”

She looks at him, confused.

“My family and a few friends are spending time in my home here. If you’d like to join us–join me,” he offers timidly.

“You mean it?”

Harry nods, “nothing better than you in a bikini,” he teases.

She slaps his shoulder, “I’m there.”

“Good.”

Harry kisses Y/N. She is quick to soften beneath him and eagerly reciprocates the kiss. Y/N loves his touch, and with each kiss, she feels herself heat up and knows where this could lead, but there is just no time. “Harry,” she mutters against him. “You’ve got to get ready.”

He sighs against her, “one more.”

Y/N happily agrees.

Y/N can’t stop her hands from shaking. She’s done everything she could think of, from doing math problems in her head to focusing on her breathing, yet nothing is working as she waits for Harry to introduce her.

“I don’t know if many of you know, but I personally requested for Y/N to join us on tour. I didn’t know if she would be available, but my manager told me to have hope, and here we are now. I-I-honestly know she’s one of our generation's best writers and singers. I feel fortunate to have shared this time with her. Something none of you know is that Y/N loves playing my piano. She’s written a lot of her second album on it. So I thought it would be fitting to bring it out and sing with her. Everyone, please welcome Y/N!”

She walks out from behind the stage. Y/N waves at the crowd she had greeted an hour earlier. Y/N feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with; it was something she told the crowd.

“Feel special. Y/N is the definition of calm and collected,” Harry teases. “Now, this is Y/N’s song, and I thought maybe you’d want to hear a bit.”

“It’s called ‘Right Now’. I hope you enjoy.” They had planned this: Harry would play the keys, and Y/N would sing, but for some reason, her nerves were getting the best of her, and Harry started the song for her. Hearing Harry sing her lyrics comforted her because he genuinely enjoyed her music. Her voice blended in with Harry’s before it was her all alone. Y/N stayed on the bench with Harry, feeling too vulnerable to go out to the crowd. It was insane debuting a song to a crowd that maybe wouldn’t relate to her words, but she sang with every emotion she could pour out for the odd chance that someone did. Y/N felt Harry’s eyes on her and turned to smile at him. Thanks to Harry, she finished this album and finished this song. These songs weren’t written about him; they have him intertwined in the stories she’ll share about this album.

Before she knows it, she’s singing the final lyric, and Harry plays the last note. “Everyone, Y/N!” The applause is thunderous, making Y/N tear up. She tries to imprint this moment in her mind because she never wants to forget it. Harry walks her off as the piano is taken away, though none of the fans know it will return by the night's end. Harry leaves her backstage, wiping away the few tears that escaped her.

“Thank you, that was beautiful,” he kissed her cheek.

He goes to walk away, but Y/N pulls him back in by his vest and kisses him. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, holding her to him as he devoured her mouth. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she breathes out.

Harry is tempted to kiss her again, but he knows if he does, he’ll get lost in her and can’t do that when he has a show to return to. “It’s me. I’m the lucky one. ” He runs back, asking the crowd if they’re ready to do some dancing. The cheers are enough for him to continue on.

The show goes on, and Y/N has the time of her life. She goes out after her song to dance and sing with his family in the crowd. Harry finds them all easily, but the tears don’t stop when he takes his time to thank his mum and sister. To thank his friends who have been there from the start, Y/N knows he’s including her in the thank you’s because he reminds her time and time again that she changed his life in a way he never expected.

Y/N knew about the ballad he would be playing on the piano. It’s something they worked on together, but something she didn’t expect was the quietness of the crowd. There is no sound except a few people crying as this lovely melody fills the area.

Harry walks off the stage in tears, and the band soon follows. Y/N knew she’d be emotional, but she can’t seem to stop crying. She walks hand in hand with June backstage, where she sees Harry hugging his mother and moving on to his sister. They all huddle in Harry’s dressing room as they erupt in cheers, celebrating the end of the tour. Y/N knows she’ll find a minute with him alone but, for now observes Harry being showered in the love he deserves. The room slowly began to filter out, giving Harry a moment to shower and change out of his clothes, but before she could leave, she felt someone grab her wrist, and the door shut behind her. Harry stood in front of her dimpled smile on his face. His emerald eyes were shining bright.

Happiness looked good on him.

“Congrats on a successful tour, Harry!” Y/N wrapped him in a hug, aware of his bare chest.

His arms held her tight as he swayed her side to side. “Thank you for writing that song with me.”

“Our first of many,” she promises.

Harry breathes her in, letting them stand in silence, soaking in the moment. This is a day they both would look back at fondly. It’s a story they’ll tell their future children.

“Thank you for bringing love to me,” Harry whispers. He loved touring and, at times, found it lonely, but ever since Y/N joined, it’s like he found his missing half. He never felt alone because he knew she was always close by.

Y/N shakes her head, “think it was all you.”

Harry ponders for a second. He was the one with the idea to bring her on as a tour opener. “Think it was.”

He connects his mouth with hers in a passionate kiss. She feels him grin against her as he pushes her against the door. His hands roam her back before resting on her waist while hers find a home in his hair. Y/N had been craving him since he kissed her halfway through his show. She kissed him, hoping her mouth said everything she hadn’t spoken aloud.

Y/N knows this is the next part of her story. It’s not ending or starting; she’s simply turning the page to create a new chapter. Y/N has no idea where she’ll be in one year, let alone five, but one thing she does know for certain is that she loves Harry.

thank you for reading 💜💜💜 please feel free to send me a message of what you loved from the story

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles stories #harry story #harry fluff #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry angst #harry styles fic rec

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r0ttenhearts · 9 months

Text

wasted on you |||

idol scaramouche x reader

part Ii

“ohmygosh, have you heard 4nemo’s new single?

“it’s sooo good (y/n!) you have to listen to it.”

“who’s your favorite one? mine would have to be scaramouche.”

your smile would always falter at the mention of his name. not like your friends ever knew you were acquaintanced with the idol group. “i don’t really like idol stuff, it’s not my thing.” you would always brush them off, refusing to take one of their earbuds to listen to the songs they wanted to show you.

hearing scaramouche’s voice again wouldn’t help you, not when you’ve gotten this far. not when you’ve moved on from him.

with college exams over and the end of your final year coming to a close you found yourself with nothing but time. with time came too many thoughts that would tumble around in your mind. too many what if’s and what could have been’s had plagued your mind since leaving scaramouche there backstage.

leaving him was so difficult, but being without him felt harder. you couldn’t help but sigh, now sitting alone in your room as the memories came back to you.

memories of splitting popsicles with him, after rehearsal drinks with his friends, smoking in a field together one of the rare times he was free from his filled schedule.

sometimes you couldn’t help but miss it. but then came the.. not so pleasant memories. the tears, the sore throat after screaming at each other, the way he’d always leave after an argument.

“please, scara! i just want you here with me. just this once. it’s been three years. give me this at least, please. i haven’t seen you in so long.”

remembering your own pleads to him never failed to make your heart ache. it still felt as if there was something unresolved, even after giving him his engagement ring back.

“i don’t wanna fucking see you (y/n)! id rather spend time with my friends doing something i enjoy than wasting my time with you.”

here comes the waterworks. tears would prick in the corners of your eyes when you remembered his tone that day. that angry look on his face.. he never looked so bothered before. it scared you so much that you still remembered it now, two years later.

it was strange seeing him on billboards and ads all across town and even on your own phone. in contrast to the angry glare he held for you, but an indifferent look to the public. would he still look at you that way? or would he look at you the same way he would everyone else?

curiosity got the best of you as you tapped on your phone, looking up his profile on instagram. there he was, looking the same as ever. maybe a little thinner but he still looked as beautiful as the day you left him.

a small smile graced your lips for a moment before it fell, seeing how much fun he had been having with his friends. you still kept in contact with kazuha, but never bothered to ask about him. you both knew it wouldn’t be good for you, so it was an unspoken rule.

“at least he’s doing well..” you mumbled to yourself before shutting off your phone. groaning internally, you knew this was a problem you had to deal with. this constant turmoil inside your head.

you decided you’d put an end to this. once and for all. you thought up a plan before texting kazuha, telling him what you wanted to resolve. despite his gentle warnings you wouldn’t listen. you just had to get through to him! make him understand your reasoning.

eventually kazuha gave in, and now you were standing in the pit to one of their concerts. it made you feel queasy remembering the last time you attended one. with your head hung low you waited for the group to start, they were opening for another up and coming idol group. it almost made you smile seeing scaramouche walk on stage with that glittery white outfit. the same glare on his features as before. he didn’t change, did he?

that sentiment making anxiety well up inside of you. you didn’t know how he would take it. seeing you again after so long. but you didn’t want him to know you were there to begin with, so you hid away from view, angled at a way that you could still watch them perform.

watching them now reminded you of one of the first concerts you ever went to of theirs, thanks to scaramouche getting tickets for you. that feeling of bubbling excitement and anxiousness when they were still so early in their career. you used to genuinely hope that they would make it, and they did!

his singing was stronger than it used to be, voice full of emotions as his eyes were fixated on the mic. a part of you missed this. coming to his shows, watching him give his all to the crowd of people that came just to see him and his friends.

as the group left the stage you sent a text to kazuha, walking away from the crowd and to the meeting spot he had told you about. it wasn’t like you didn’t already know where they were going, they always went to the same bar after every performance.

pushing open the grimy doors to the bar, you could see his back as you walked in. scaramouche was sitting at a table with his friends, drink in hand already as you walked up to them. you pulled out a seat next to scaramouche, crossing your arms over your chest as the guys looked at you excitedly, scaramouche not sharing the same sentiment.

“hey guys, long time no see.” heizou laughed loudly, patting scaramouche on his shoulder as they left the table. now it was just you and scaramouche.

he held this look of shock on his face, like he’d seen a ghost. his mouth slightly opening and closing, almost like a fish.

“hey.” you said softly, putting your hand on his arm. “are you real?” he asked you, now looking directly at you rather than trying not to meeting your gaze.

“of course i am, what do you mean by that? have you been dreaming about me too?” you ask, half joking but half serious as he had been plaguing your dreams for the past few months.

“don’t say things like that (y/n)..” he spoke quietly, taking a sip of his beer. you nod silently, watching him take a sip of his drink.

“i know, this is kind of weird. especially since i’m the one that left you but, it’s been haunting me. and i just want to talk.” you admit to him, looking down at your hands. suddenly your nails seemed much more interesting than to look at him.

“yeah, i think we’re due for that.” he said before sliding his drink over, taking your hands in his without warning. “look, (y/n). i know that back then i wasn’t great to you, far from it actually. i’ve thought about what you said to me that night ever since. i’m not asking for your forgiveness, nor am i asking you to get back together with me. but i just want you to know that i’m sorry. i regret wasting us, wasting what we had. i do love being an idol, but it doesn’t give me the same satisfaction as i got when i was with you.”

you nodded silently at his words, looping your arms around his neck as you hugged him. the words you had longed to hear were now finally being said. “that’s all i wanted.” you spoke quietly in his ear, your voice cracking with tears. “i just wanted that from you scara.”

you wiped your tears away as you pulled back, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “i want to be in your life again, not as lovers, not yet. but as friends. i’ve missed you all this time.” scaramouche nodded, taking his free hand and placing it on top of yours. “i can work with that.”

what you both didn’t see were the rest of the boys from 4nemo watching the scene unfold from the bar window. heizou’s loud cheering being shushed by xiao as both of your heads whipped to the window, red covering your faces in embarrassment.

taglist: @lemons4u @foxkunwoof @s-h-i-r-o-8-1 @felixilations @kaxukaxu @angelofdarkness2 @trxshhsstufftatsumimiko @ycugtf @nervouseaglelover @whorerificstuff @samarill

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #wanderer x you #scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche angst #scara angst #scaramouche x y/n #scara x you #scara x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scara x reader #genshin scara #scaramouche fluff

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fizziepopangel · 2 months

Text

HuskerDust Headcanons (romantic)

Husk says “I love you” first. It’s not a big romantic thing, but to Angel Dust it means the world.

Angel and Husk were both quite affectionate with each other. The two can often be found cuddling in one of their bedrooms. Angel loves being held, but his favorite way for them to cuddle is actually having Husk lay on top of him since he finds the pressure grounding, and he’s found that scratching the cat demon’s back between his wings or scratching behind his ears while he’s tired and comfortable results in purring.

Angel steals Husk's hat every now and again.... Sometimes he steals it solely for the purpose of putting it on Fat Nuggets to take cute pictures of him in it.... While the pictures are adorable, this has resulted in the little pig occasionally taking it upon himself to steal the hell cat's hat, resulting in the man chasing the little creature around the hotel like a madman.

Husk becomes the father figure Fat Nuggets never had and Angel absolutely goes crazy for the relationship between his pet pig and boyfriend.

Although he doesn’t show it often, Husk does sometimes get overwhelmed, causing him to eventually break down in tears. During these episodes, Angel usually holds the grumpy drunk, rubbing his back and humming “Loser Baby” until he’s calmed down enough to talk, or until he’s fallen asleep.

Angel is a sucker for romance. He buys Husk flowers, makes big plans for their anniversary, makes long and mushy posts and posts cutesy pictures on his sinstagram, and goes all out for Husk’s birthday. Husk acts annoyed, but he secretly enjoys the little romantic gestures.

Despite not being the most romantic man, he does randomly grab Angel at random points while they’re together and begin dancing with the man, even humming or singing softly under his breath when Angel points out that there’s no music.

Charlie has so many candid photos of the couple being cute. She’s making a scrapbook for them for their anniversary

After Husk showed him the song, Angel plays “A Sunday Kind of Love" whenever their anniversary lands on a Sunday and makes Husk breakfast in bed as it plays. He calls it their song.

When Angel can, he does drag shows at one of his favorite clubs in downtown Pride. Husk goes to every one of Angel’s drag shows to watch him perform and despite his usual gruff demeanor, he cheers the loudest when his boyfriend is on stage.

After long, rough shoots in Valentino's studio, Angel usually comes back to the hotel exhausted and sore so he sits at the bar, sipping water and listening to Husk grumble about work until he falls asleep at the bar. Husk usually ends up carrying him to bed despite constantly grumbling about being "too old for this shit".

In the event that they both wanted to get married, both of these men would try to make the perfect plan to propose to the other.

In an attempt to be romantic, Husk would begrudgingly ask Alastor to help him make a nice Italian dinner and a cake to hide the ring in. He would be an anxious wreck through the whole dinner as Angel ate as he waited for dessert and the discovery of the ring within the cake.

Angel on the other hand would go the cheesier way of dressing Fat Nuggets up in a little tux and tying a ring around his neck with a bow and having him come up to Husk as the two had dessert with a sign that reads “Will you marry my daddy?”

In true romantic comedy fashion, Angel’s proposal pig would get to Husk right as Angel nearly choked on the ring Husk put into the cake. Of course, they would both say yes.

Despite not being the romantic in their relationship, Husk is a bit of a groom-zilla. It’s not really that he cares about flowers or color schemes or any of it, he’d be happy as long as he’s with the man he loves and their an open bar so he lets Angel handle it all for the most part…. But he does think Angel deserves the best and he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure that man’s day didn’t go absolutely perfectly.

Niffty makes Angel’s wedding dress, and although he will deny it, Husk does cry when he sees Angel in it.

Husk doesn't choose the first song they dance to, but he does request later in the night that the song Frank Sinatra’s “I Could Write a Book" be played so he can ask Angel to dance to that.

Husk recites his vows to Anthony, not Angel Dust.

#fizziepop thoughts #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #all aongs are linked for you to listen #husk hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin hotel angel dust #husker x angel dust #fat nuggets #husk is fat nuggets second dad #frank sinatra #i could write a book #a sunday kind of love #etta james #loser baby #this is one of my favorite ships

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gatorbites-imagines · 10 months

Note

Hobie x deadpool reader or spider reader

Hobie Brown x Deadpool male reader

Headcanons

I love Deadpool, who doesn’t love Deadpool? I tried to think of what Deadpool would be like in Hobies’ earth, and I just feel like he would kinda just be the same as always, except maybe with a metal aesthetic. And any chance to work my favorite music into stuff? I’m taking it.

You were Deadpool, and had been Deadpool for a long time. In the beginning it had just been your musician and artist name. Much of your music was different types of metal, with lyrics focused on judging the system and pointing fingers at its corruption.

Of course, a lot of people hated your music, but there was also those who loved it. One of them being Hobie Brown. Even before he became spiderman, hed always been a very righteous person with strong opinions about corruption and capitalism, so finding an artist who shared his views was great.

That was until you got a little too popular and stepped on the wrong people’s toes with your music and art. When you started pointing fingers at Osborn and his wild corruption, those against you grew more and more violent.

And at one of your biggest concerts to date, one that offered all the proceeds to those in need, you were assassinated right on stage. Theories would go around saying it was Osborn wanting to get rid of you, and telling everyone what would happen if they crossed him.

Panic consumed the arena after you were shot right on stage, and in the panic your body was whisked away. Deadpool became an icon in the anarchist circle, as one of the first to stand up against suppression and never back down no matter what.

Time would pass, Hobie would become Spiderman, and he would fight people like Osborn, even killing the guy with his guitar in the end.

But even after killing Osborn, the world was still in disarray, meaning a lot of work had to be done. So, when someone who went by Deadpool started popping up in stories and rumors, it caught people’s attention.

It was assumed you were just a fan, who wanted to use the legendary name of Deadpool to spread your message, or maybe the honor the original Deadpool. That was until people met you though.

You had the same clothes, only now wearing a mask. Your boots, your jacket, your spikes, and patches, even your guitar, you had it all. And on closer inspection, true fans could see it was the real thing.

You were almost like a ghost of the past, stories would go around that you were the angered spirit of the musician Deadpool, having crawled out of hell to wreak havoc on the upper class and tear out the roots of capitalism.

Hobie would want to meet you of course, you were like his hero and biggest inspiration. The first time you two would meet would be during a fight of some sort, and you’d chuck your guitar across the battlefield to nail a corrupt cop in the head before they could get a lucky shot at Hobie.

After that you two became close like two peas in a pod. Hobie would never treat you like you were someone above him, even though he had admired you for years, because he doesn’t believe in treating celebrities like gods.

Soon Deadpool and Spiderman being spotted together was a common sight, and so was seeing spiderman swing around with Deadpool in his arms or hanging on his back like a koala.

You never really take off your mask in the beginning, but when you do Hobie learns why you keep it on. You have a large scar taking up part of your head where the bullet had blown your head apart all that time ago.

You had apparently always been a mutant with a light healing factor, which had kept you alive, but you had been whisked away from Osborn researchers who wanted to use your healing factor. But in the end, they’d simply boosted your powers and you became pretty much unkillable.

This leads to you taking most of the hits during battle, since you can easily take it, anything you lose will just grow back. That doesn’t stop Hobie from worrying though, because seeing someone get their arm sliced off is pretty extreme.

Your first kiss is something you’d only have with a version of Deadpool. Hobie would be carrying your head after it’s been sliced off, and you would be asking him for a kiss and blowing him kisses from where hes carrying your head.

Now, anyone normal wouldn’t do what Hobie does, but Hobie doesn’t like to fit the mold. So, he would lift your severed but still living head and kiss you on the lips. Cue a make out until your body stumbles over and you can get your head back on.

You two never actually put a label to what you are, because that’s not the type of person you two are. But you two are pretty much dating now. You move into an apartment together, and sleep in the same bed at night, and kiss whenever you want.

Spiderman and Deadpool pretty much become icons in your community, for standing up towards oppression, and also being two hot guys who hold concerts after fights.

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norrizzandpia · 8 months

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Caught (LN4)

Summary: When living with their best friends turns out to be the worst decision Lando and Y/n ever made.

Warnings: smut, heavy make out, beginning stages of oral sex, language (lmk if i missed any)

Note: this one got way more dirtier than i anticipated but here we are lol

Y/n and Lando never had alone time. Whether it was because he had an obligation with work or that his friends were bombarding them for attention, the couple was never left to themselves. It hadn’t really hit either of them until they were filming a Quadrant video, a joke about their sex life was made, and Lando had to run to the bathroom to remedy the problem in which had been deprived.

From then on, after they understood they couldn’t remember their last time, the two made it a priority to find times to connect on a more intimate level.

This was one of those times.

With everyone out of the house, the group out to a lunch Lando and Y/n respectfully declined to be together, they found themselves immediately jumping on each other the moment the car pulled out of the driveway.

Her hands grabbing at his biceps, Lando shoved Y/n into the wall behind them. His lips swallowed hers as his hips pinned hers against the cool surface. A nod to one of the things he knew was her favorite, Lando tangled his hands in her and tugged slightly as to open her neck to him. His lips latched on to the slender, soft skin, trailing down to her collarbones. Y/n couldn’t help, but pull on the short strands that stuck out from his head, messing them up completely.

“Y/n…” Lando whispered as he gripped her hips, rolling them against his.

“Lando…” She tried to get out through the moans, “Couch.”

Suddenly, he was incredibly aware of the fact that they were practically having sex with clothes on in the middle of their foyer, completely exposed to anyone who had a key.

Even with that revelation, Lando’s lust filled brain didn’t register that the couch was just as bad. All he could comprehend was that the couch was better and gave him more room to explore his girlfriend’s body.

With that, they stumbled over to the piece of furniture, collapsing onto it before resuming their previous activities. Except this time, Lando was eagerly ripping her clothes off.

The last time they found each other like this was a week ago. In his mind, a week too long. So, to see his girlfriend in only her underwear, boobs displayed for him, was quite the sight for him.

“It just keeps getting better.” He sighed dreamily as he stared down at her naked form before leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth.

“What?” She asked breathlessly as his tongue reminded her of why they needed to get their own apartment.

“You. You just keep getting better.” Lando whispered against her skin as he locked eyes with her, his blue ones staring at her as he licked from her nipple across her chest to the other breast.

The silence was filled with Y/n’s pants and it only intensified as his head fell deeper and deeper down her stomach until it was hovering right in front of where she needed him desperately.

His kisses against her underwear must have been loud enough to distract them because the car pulling in sounded as Lando pinched her panties in his fingers and pulled them down her legs.

By the time his lips made contact with her clit and she was moaning, loudly, it was too late. Max, Niran, Ria, Aarav, and Steve all waltzed into the living room, finding their best friend fully clothed on top of his girlfriend who was bare from head to toe.

“Oh my god.” Ria said slowly as the group stood in shock. The couple in question shot up, their head whirling around before Y/n was shrieking and all the men were averting their gaze.

“SHIT,” Lando shouted as he flew to cover his girlfriend, laying flush against her as his arms wrapped around her, pushing her against him tightly.

“GET OUT.” He yelled to his friends as they all jostled together, trying to run out of the room at the commotion and the sight burning in their brains of Y/n’s legs wide open with Lando’s face in between them.

Once the sound of a door slamming graced their ears, Lando was peeling gently off of her to grab her clothes.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He said as he handed her each piece of material in the order he knew she liked to put them on.

She gave him a cold stare, “We are moving out.”

He nodded vigorously, “Yeah, we’re on the same page there.”

“Perfect,” She gave a tight lipped smile before shoving on her hoodie and stomping out of the room.

He trailed after her, trying desperately to stop her before she reached Ria’s room and, inevitably, said too much. But, alas, the world was not in Lando’s favor.

Her small hands shoved the door open before she was standing with her hands on her hips in front of the quivering group that was wholed up on the pink bed.

“I’m sorry for what you saw, but you better get my naked body out of your minds.” She states sternly as Lando came up to slot behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist.

Max sighed as he clutched his head in his hands, “I’m not sure I can.”

Lando was quick to step in front of her, “Woah, mate, you better.”

“I’m trying my best.” Max groaned as the friends averted eye contact with the couple standing in the doorway.

“Okay, because you all just saw Y/n and I about to have sex, I’m going to be completely up front.” Lando asserted.

“Oh, perfect.” Niran groaned.

Lando rolled his eyes, “Y/n and I have been struggling to find time alone lately and, as you’ve seen, it’s proven to be very difficult to find time. Because of this, we’ve decided to move out. For the sake of our relationship and your mental stability.”

At that, the group perked up as Aarav smiled, “Really? Thank God!”

Lando’s and Y/n’s brows scrunched together, “What do you mean?” They said simultaneously.

Steve chuckled sheepishly as he eyed the, now, ex-roommates, “The walls are pretty thin here and, while the night time is usually for sleeping, we never get any when you two are here.” He drove the knife a bit deeper as he added, “If you get what I mean.”

Lando rubbed a hand over his eyes as Y/n groaned and placed her head on his back, “I don’t know if that makes things better or worse.” Lando mumbled before Y/n corrected him, “It’s worse, love. So much worse.”

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averageallogene · 8 months

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Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest.

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT.

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned.

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage.

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite.

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer.

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done.

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out…

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her.

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words.

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth.

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted.

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs.

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself.

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him.

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb.

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs.

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation.

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing.

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?”

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced.

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment.

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her.

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up.

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips.

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own.

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was.

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure.

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear.

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail.

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own.

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it.

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure.

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm.

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one.

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure.

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs.

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight.

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek.

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her.

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

#genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #yoko drabbles

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kaisacobra · 3 months

Text

A Step Into the Future - Sam Carpenter

Summary: A cuddly morning with your girlfriend Sam turns into a conversation about your future.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff.

Word Count: 1.8k

You were never particularly religious, but in moments like these, when everything was calm and you were in the arms of the person you loved most in the world, you truly felt like you were in heaven.

Soft snores reaching your ears and a warm, slow breath on your neck had become your favorite alarm clock. It was worth waking up earlier just to have the sight of your girlfriend peacefully sleeping beside you, in one of those rare moments when her expression wasn't burdened with worries and a sense of alertness.

Moving slowly to avoid waking her up, you raised your arm to her sculpted face and brushed some strands of hair aside, wanting to get a complete view of Sam's face. The way the sunlight seeped through a crack in the curtain illuminated Sam perfectly, giving you a breathtaking sight.

Samantha Carpenter was the greatest work of art you had ever seen. A face like a Botticelli painting, a body like a Michelangelo sculpture, a voice like a siren's song, and a heart kept like a precious jewel.

Your thoughts spoke louder, and you allowed yourself to gently slide a finger over the soft skin of the bridge of the woman's nose, finding it adorable when she involuntarily wrinkled her nose in response. You enjoyed being able to take pride in recognizing Sam's subtle signs, having carefully studied her reactions throughout the early stages of your relationship. This allowed you to notice certain things, like the change in the rhythm of her breathing, even if she pretended to still be asleep.

"Darling?" You whispered as softly as you could, just in case you had misread your analysis and your girlfriend was actually asleep.

But soon your theory was proven correct when Sam let out a husky grunt and hugged your torso with both arms, trapping you in a grip that honestly didn't bother you at all. She shifted in bed until she rested her head on your chest, releasing a sigh of contentment when satisfied with the proximity.

You gave a small smile and began playing with her hair without thinking too much. Some time ago, at the beginning of the relationship, you used to wonder if Sam would ever let you get close for real. Now, you knew that no one who knew her would believe you if you said the older Carpenter was like a cuddly kitten that complained if she wasn't touching you at every possible minute.

The peaceful silence was interrupted for a moment by a loud complaint from Sam's stomach, who quickly moved to bury her face in the crook of your neck. "No," she spoke firmly but with a voice laden with playfulness and drowsiness.

"No, what?" You laughed, letting her get more comfortable beside you, even if it meant she was two steps away from being on top of you.

Sam lifted her head just enough for her voice not to be muffled. You couldn't see her face clearly due to the position, but you could identify her still-closed eyes. "You were going to suggest getting up for breakfast. My answer is no."

"But, darling..." You laughed again, amused at how a just-awakened Sam was practically a stubborn child. "You're hungry, aren't you? I can go make a quick breakfast and come back to be with you."

Your girlfriend made a protesting noise and held you tighter in her arms, as if you were planning to escape at any moment. Of course, you weren't going to complain, after all, there was no more perfect place in the world than Sam's arms. She shook her head slightly. "You're forbidden to leave. We'll cook something later, together."

"Forbidden?" You chuckled. "By whom, exactly?"

"By me, your amazing girlfriend."

You laughed a bit more and decided to gently stroke Sam's scalp, feeling the woman slowly soften under your touch again. That had to be one of your greatest achievements—the fact that Sam trusted you so much to allow herself to be vulnerable, even if it didn't come naturally to her anymore.

She shifted a bit more, this time wrapping her legs around yours. "I could do this for the rest of my life, you know?"

Vulnerability and even a hint of embarrassment shone through Sam's voice, and although you couldn't see her face completely, you could see a part of her cheek starting to turn red. Adorable, you would say.

"Hold onto me like a koala?" You teased, feeling her lightly pinch your arm in retaliation. She muttered a curse in Spanish, and the warm breath from her mouth hit a sensitive area of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Sam seemed too sleepy to notice your reactions and tease you back. Instead, she spoke again slowly, as if sharing a huge secret. "No, idiot. This. Waking up with you by my side, every day."

"Oh." You responded with great eloquence, feeling your entire body heat up and butterflies flutter in your stomach as if you were the protagonist of a teenage romance. Sam wasn't one to express love with words much, but when she did, you could barely contain yourself from looking like a smitten fool. "I could do that forever too. Truly become your family."

Your trembling voice betrayed how much you had wanted to have this kind of conversation for a while, even if you were leaving the actual meaning implicit. Still, you knew Sam would understand what you were trying to say.

"You already are family. We don't need to get married for that." She spoke, but soon realizing how her words sounded a bit harsh, she moved back a bit and locked eyes with you, your faces just a few inches apart. "Not that I don't want to get married! I do. Someday. But you don't have to wait until then to feel like part of the family."

Once again, a small party seemed to settle inside you with Sam's words and the sight of her in front of you, her face flushed with shyness and the admission that she envisions a future with you. Taking advantage of the closeness, you cupped her face with one hand. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

You're welcome. The words hung implicitly in the air as she turned her face just enough to kiss the palm of your hand. Sam's brown eyes were still small due to sleepiness, but they already sparkled like the most beautiful jewel you had ever seen. You felt very lucky.

Seizing the opportunity, you decided to delve a bit further into the subject. "Would you like to expand this family with me? In the future, of course."

Sam squirmed a bit, and you knew she was reluctant to think about that answer. You started to gently stroke her jaw with your thumb, trying to calm her and convey the message that you would be okay with whatever answer she gave.

"I kinda already have three kids, you know?" She said with humor, and you opened a smile in response. It was true that Sam was very protective of her sister, Tara, and the two twins, Mindy and Chad. You could see how much she cared for them and how hard she worked to make sure she could provide some of the things they liked.

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" You replied still humorously, and you were ready to let the subject drop there, not wanting to pressure your girlfriend into anything. However, Sam seemed not to have finished her train of thought.

She bit her lip, looking hesitant. "It's just that... I don't have the best history with my parents, as you know. And I don't have the best overall history, damn, I don't even have a degree, and..."

"Hey, hey. One step at a time, okay?" You reassured her, placing a kiss on her forehead that made her release a relieved sigh. "Firstly, you're not like your parents, no matter what you think. Secondly, it's not too late to start college if that's what you want."

"No, it's not possible." Sam shook her head, looking away to your collarbone with some shame. "I have to work to pay for the apartment rent and also support me and Tara. I don't have time for that."

You frowned and held the Carpenter's chin, making her look at you. Even embarrassed, Sam could still be intimidating enough, and her gaze gave you the same feeling of being struck by lightning, as if electricity ran through your veins every time your eyes met. "I could help you if you wanted."

"No. It's not your obli-"

"I'm not being forced to do anything." You cut her off, shaking your head and smiling to show that you were serious. "You know I have a well-paying internship. I could move here, share the bills and a room with you. It would be less burdensome, and you could work just one job and use the rest of the time to study. What do you think?"

Sam seemed to be in an internal battle, looking at you with admiration and trying to fight back the tears that were on the brink of her eyes. She reached out to caress your face. "You don't have to do this."

"I would like to." You reassured her, pulling her closer to envelop her waist in a hug. "Besides, I'd finally get rid of that small dorm and my weird roommate."

Sam scowled, her voice laden with jealousy. "You mean that flirt who's always hitting on you? You know, I'm starting to think it really is a good idea for you to move in, maybe now that bitch will understand that you're taken."

You laughed at Sam's indignation but didn't say anything to disagree. She was right, after all. At the end of the day, you were very well taken, and you were perfectly fine with that. The sunlight streaming into the room through the curtains seemed a bit brighter now, and although you didn't want to burst your bubble of happiness with Sam, you really needed to start preparing for the day ahead.

She seemed to read your mind, as she always did, given the connection between you two, and just nodded in agreement, a sign that she also agreed to get up and shake off the laziness.

In a last moment of calm, Sam approached you and spread small kisses over your chin, cheeks, and forehead, finally stopping at your mouth and kissing you with true love and affection, creating not only a physical connection but also a connection of souls. You embraced the contact, responding to the kiss with the same passion, forgetting about anything else but Sam's lips.

As she pulled away, Sam smiled contentedly. Her hair messy because of the bed, red puffy lips, and eyes with sleep residue didn't prevent you from seeing her as the most beautiful woman you had ever seen on Earth. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too." You whispered back, your voice laden with emotion.

You didn't know what to expect from the future, but one thing was certain. Whatever it was, you would have Sam Carpenter, and Sam Carpenter would have you.

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x you

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supernovafics · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win.

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic.

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold.

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors.

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled.

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?”

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five.

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington.

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then.

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything.

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium.

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again.

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms.

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders.

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored.

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil.

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand.

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.”

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place.

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent.

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks.

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked.

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?”

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over.

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask.

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock.

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink.

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t.

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.”

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him.

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours.

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod.

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever.

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand.

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.”

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him.

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you.

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.”

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family.

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle.

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?”

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness.

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?”

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say.

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly.

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.”

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got.

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver.

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since.

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious.

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different.

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour.

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.”

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier.

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Oh.”

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.”

“Okay, what was he like?”

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.”

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness.

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be.

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two.

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over.

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.”

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today.

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process.

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner.

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table.

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.”

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.”

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.”

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?”

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose.

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry.

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep.

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him.

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left.

“You guys okay in there?”

“Yup!”

“Yes!”

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine.

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him.

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes.

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep.

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped.

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in.

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets.

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?”

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids.

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else.

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again.

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.”

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing.

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind.

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so.

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought.

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing.

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you.

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

PART TWO

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