#so she can rest up for her travel plans this weekend so she's better enough by then to actually enjoy herself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldsover · 2 years

Text

Wise/Night

Chapter 1 of Bird’s Eye View, a series by @jettsdraft and @worldsover

Choke time.

Hold it by its throat.

Let it hang from the wall to make the clock envious.

No, clocks would not tick without people like you. You’ve always understood the world like this: Life can only begin in the improvised moments; everything else, the plans that others make, is worthless. Anything that isn’t thrust upon you has someone else’s grubby little hands all over it.

This great mindset drove your every decision—screwed you over, too. But that’s just for now. One day, it’ll all work out.

This probably isn’t that day. You walk up the grand stairs to the library, treading as though each step on the white slabs was a journey itself. You’re not as awed as you once were with the campus. Those ridiculous steps are just annoying. The sun unfolds brightness and heat alike while birds chirp and crowds of people stroll across the campus garden. Looking for something, anything to do, you scan the mass.

Not the most entertaining way to end the summer, but that makes it as good as the rest of the break season. Plans of traveling with your girlfriend (now ex) Im Nayeon flew out the window: you failed an intro comp-sci course with crashing colors, and she realized you weren’t nearly as serious about the relationship as she was. You looked forward to the fuck marathon you would have with her traveling around the world more than nourishing the relationship into a lifelong commitment that could withstand any temptation.

Unfortunately, temptation is all around. As beautiful as Nayeon is, as great of a personality she has, it never translated to heart eyes and forevers, at least not with you.

So here you find yourself, retaking the class you so gallantly failed, in large part to finding your head buried between Nayeon’s legs instead of buried between textbooks.

“Oh, fuck just like that. Fuck me with your tongue! Keep that up I might squeeze your head like a melon.”

You shake your head. Ah, better days.

Making your way through the crowd, two women eclipse all others for your attention as your head whips to look at them. Some jeans cling tightly to one’s plump behind. The other steps proudly in bright red heels and a Gucci bag, every accessory screaming money.

The rich one’s glasses sit on an adorable, pointed nose, while her brown hair sits on her shoulders. Maybe she’s the older sister.

Purple dyes the long dark hair of the girl with the nice butt. Wow, you really cannot stop thinking about this girl’s ass.

Suddenly any thought of comp-sci or Nayeon, or anything else for that matter, flies out the window as you approach the two women. If an angel was on your shoulder, it would remind you that this is how you failed last time, that this is the definition of insanity. On the other hand, the devil would tell you to get to know them (just enough to get them in bed), to give in to the carnal, animalistic desire, to fuck these women, grades or degree be damned.

“Mom, what the hell? See, now we’re lost, and we can’t find our tour leader anywhere!” The one with the ass groans.

Mother and daughter? Now, things are getting interesting. Thank the gods that you failed that class, that Nayeon dumped you. You can fuck these women guilt-free (though if you were truthful with yourself, you would have fucked these women regardless.)

“Will you relax? The guys here are going to think you’re a prude! Live a little. Who cares if that nerd isn’t around to show us where to find the fifth library this campus has, or which study room has the best signal access? He probably spends his weekends shacked up in his dorm while everyone is out living life. Meanwhile, his girlfriend, if he even has one with his timid little attitude, is probably getting convinced by her friends to take shots then backshots soon after that.” The rich woman laughs airily. Somehow, her cruel yet honest words turn you on as much as her daughter’s ass.

“Okay, mom, what the hell? Not everyone is like you and Aunt Sooyoung and Aunt Jungeun! He seemed like a sweet guy. And we are here to learn."

“Yes, we are here to learn. About life! Trying new experiences! So, loosen up. Now let me see, if I’m not mistaken, my old sorority house was—“

Wave and jog over to the pair. “Hey! Couldn’t help but overhear you guys needing a tour guide. Lucky for you, I’m the best guide on campus, and unlike your other guide, I can show you a bit of both.” You have no clue where anything is but, for these women, you’d memorize the map.

“Oh, hi!” The girl with faded purple hair has a bright smile, cheeks wide. Already, her voice is saccharine sweet yet so soft. What would she look like if you fucked that ass?

What would that ass look like covered in your cum?

“Thanks, but I think we’re just gonna find our old tour guide,” the mom says.

“Him? I mean that’s fine, but we were in the same stats class last year. He failed.” You shrug. “But I would be happy to help. I can show you all around campus, bars, libraries, secret map spots.”

The daughter's mouth rounds. “Wow, he seemed so knowledgeable. That’s a shock.”

He might have been—you didn’t know. But if tossing him under the bus meant a ticket to both these women, then he’s going under.

“What do you think, mom?”

“Mom? Wow, you look stunning,” you say. Testing the waters is worth the risk with a woman as gorgeous as her.

She eyes you up and down with a methodic expression, and you can see a ghost of a smirk on her lips. Or maybe it’s your inflated ego. You’ll take the win regardless. “He already sounds better than the nerd,” she says. “And he’s a flirt too! We might have found a winner.”

“Perfect, and don’t worry, miss...” Extend your hand.

“Jo, but you can call me Haseul,” she says as her lithe hand takes yours.

“Don’t worry then, Haseul. I’d be more than happy to show you all the campus has in terms of education for your daughter, and of course, where she can learn and experience new experiences.” You give the woman a slight wink, holding her hand for a moment longer than necessary, then turn to her daughter with a grin. “What’s your name?”

“Choi Yerim,” she says as she takes your hand.

“You have a beautiful smile. You’re putting the sun to shame.” It isn’t even flattery. Her smile easily outshines yours, let alone any starlight.

“Oh, thank you!” She blushes as your fingers interlock before you pull away.

This is in the bag. “Shall we ladies?”

You turn and lead the way.

The hushed tones of the two ladies behind you aren’t hushed enough.

“Wow, Yerim. You need that lock up that dick right now because I guarantee you every woman is begging to fuck him.”

“Mom, once again, what the fuck? What would dad think?”

“Who cares?”

How cold.

Even your heart breaks a little.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

After you show off the various sculptures, the signature mismatched architecture, and the trodden paths between the busiest lecture halls, the trio of you continue to the administrative building, a worn brick building,

Yerim clasps her hands. “You guys are gonna stay here, right?”

“Yes, yes, Yerim. You have a phone too. This isn’t the same as you getting lost in the grocery store.”

“Mom!”

You tap Yerim on the wrist. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here. Remember, the ID cards are in room AT100. And you have my number now, right?”

“Yep!” Yerim heads into the building with an honest-to-goodness skip.

“When did you give her your number?” Haseul asks, tapping her feet.

Immediately, you’re on the back foot. “You, I, remember, uh, I gave it to her when she asked,” you say, yet Haseul stares past you blankly. You sit down on a nearby bench while Haseul is perfectly fine waiting on her heels. Though you try your best to think of something to say, words fail.

Haseul looks at her gem-ornamented watch and eventually considers enough time to have passed. “What do you do outside of school?”

You’re used to the typical small talk but with a sexy woman like Haseul, you want much more than a chat. And you remember her earlier words. In a suggestive tone, you say, “Oh, I have plenty of extracurriculars.”

“Such as?”

“I go to the gym plenty.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m not just going there for the sake of it.”

“Really, now?” Haseul tilts her head, but she’s no more invested in this conversation than the gears on her watch.

You push through regardless. “Mhm. It’s a good place to get my body in shape when I’m doing heavy... lifting. Working up a sweat, using my stamina. Do you get what I mean?”

“You look like you need a bit more time there, then.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You probably aren't big enough. For whatever you're doing. Are you sure you could even lift a grocery bag? And I bet you wouldn’t last more than ten minutes… before tapping out.”

Words flounder when they try to escape your throat.

“Well, if you ever need a personal trainer or just a workout buddy...” Haseul looks up at you, the look on her face crushing your ego. Her eyes are sharp, her head is cocked sideways, barely looking at you as if you were some insignificant thing. “What? Does this spiel work on all women? Or just the easy sluts who don’t know what a good fuck is?”

“I, I, uh, I wasn’t trying to imply anything—“

“And now you’re st-t-tuttering. Fuck. Listen to me.” Haseul turns and gives you her full attention for the first time, squeezing your cheeks together hard. “You are way outta your fucking league, alright? My pussy would make you braindead. And I bet now you’re thinking you can hit on my daughter. You aren’t good enough for either of us. Nod if you understand.”

You nod out of obedience. This woman’s sheer cruelty has you rock hard and on autopilot.

“Good.” Haseul smacks your cheeks none too lightly, which Yerim just barely misses as she waves in the distance with her card in hand. Haseul whispers in your ear, “Now, why don’t you finish the tour and run along and find some easy slut.”

After one more tap on your cheek, Haseul returns to barely giving you the time of day.

You make eye contact with Yerim, skipping towards you.

Maybe you just will find one.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“And that ends our tour! What did you guys think?” Keeping up your enthusiasm after that is quite the plight, but it’s a task made much easier by Yerim’s bountiful energy.

“I had a wonderful time!” Yerim pokes you on the shoulder. “You’re really fun, you know?”

“Look who’s talking. It felt like you were the one leading us around, almost running everywhere,” you say.

“Sorry, mom. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn those heels.” Yerim sticks her tongue out, and Haseul dismisses her with eyes peering off to the side.

You walk down the steps of the fountain with a sly grin on your face as you check out the two women. Haseul continues to look around the courtyard, trying to appear as disinterested as possible, but the furtive glances, the stolen looks are all you need. You’ve concluded: She’s looking to get fucked—it’s in her aloof demeanor, in her icy voice, in her pricey jewelry like fish bait. Obviously, she’s prowling for fresh cock to split her open, yet she acts as if she’s so choosy about which cock does the splitting.

It’ll be yours. Inevitable like all else. Still, Haseul drives you crazy, enough for a crazier idea to form in your head. If this bitch wants to play hard to get when she’s clearly drooling for your dick, then why not play the same game?

And who better to play the game with than her own daughter? Your imagination fills with visions of Yerim’s bright smile around your dick.

“Thank you for the tour,” Haseul says, trying to play it off and barely looking at you. “I was thinking maybe we could get something to eat. I’m starving.”

I’ve got something to eat right here. You hold that first thought back.

“Yerim,” you say, putting a hand around her shoulder, “I was wondering if maybe I can show you around a bit more? Plus, there’s a small gathering for freshmen tonight where you could meet some new friends.”

Haseul’s mouth hung in shock.

You hide a smirk knowing you’ve just rattled the lion.

Yerim’s eyes widen. “Really? I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time. You’ve been super helpful and I’m sure you have better things to do, like a girlfriend to hang out with. Or anything other than showing me around campus and slumming it with the new crop of freshmen.” The way her voice gets higher and faster as she talks is downright adorable—you couldn’t wait to paint her ass. Even if you had a girlfriend, you wouldn’t miss this game for the world.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’d love nothing more.” Reflecting Yerim’s smile is so natural. “And as for a girlfriend, she actually dumped me recently, so I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Oh my gosh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that. You seem like such a nice guy and you’re pretty cute too,” Yerim says in such a shy matter you’d think she was laying it thick and trying to fuck you herself. The thought crosses your mind: perhaps both these women are on the prowl for cock.

“Aww, thank you. So how about it? I’d love to spend the rest of the day hanging out with such a beautiful girl. Might even run into my ex and with you around me, she'll be so jealous!”

“Oh stop!” Yerim laughs, playfully smacking your arm.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

Yerim nods, hiding her face between her hands. “Let’s do it!”

“Awesome. And I promise, if that freshman party gets too lame, we can find our own kind of fun.” You can tell Yerim is getting used to your touch when you nudge her.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep,” she says. “I think I’m good here, mom. I’ll see you at home tomorrow morning?”

This whole time Haseul has been seething as she watches you flirt with her daughter. It’s not even about Yerim; it’s that you’re clearly ignoring her. Her eyes are subtle in their intensity as they narrow. She must be thinking wild thoughts—If this dumb fuck of a stud thinks he’s going to just play her like that, he’s mistaken. And her daughter? What the fuck is this fucking act she’s putting on? This cutesy, “hehe uwu” act. Yerim really thinks she’s going to fucking take this cock away from her? Think again.

You know the type well. Thoroughly well. They tend to be thoroughly rammed by your dick sooner than later.

“Sure, sweetie.” Haseul smiles, her tone hiding all the venom in her head. “Be safe! Call me if you need a ride! Don’t drink and drive!”

“Great, let's go, Yerim.” You grab her hand and start taking her along but before you leave, you stop and turn to her mother. “There’s a McDonalds around the block if you’re hungry, Haseul!”

That’s where all the sorority whores get their food after they’ve had their fill of dick for the night. You must know what it’s like. A faint trace of a smirk must show on your lips because the glare Haseul gives as you walk away, daughter in hand, is downright treacherous. You look down at Yerim’s butt that sways and enthralls like a hypnotist’s pocket watch; grabbing it right here would be perfect.

Small steps. In time, you’ll be grabbing this ass in public, and she won't flinch.

“Fucking asshole.” Haseul growls under her breath. “Is that the fucking game he wants to play? Go ahead, flaunt my daughter. Soon enough, you’ll be groveling for my pussy.”

She calms her breath and heads the other way toward her Mercedes, already concocting her revenge for this slight.

This could very well be that day where it all works out.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The music pumps too loud, and the glass table shakes with clinking noises as the bottles rattle. A few of the sorority girls you recognize wave at you while others send you leers of utter hatred. You never knew what to expect out of them, par for the course since you don’t remember half their names.

“Who’s the one with the black hair?” Yerim asks tentatively. The woman has been sending less than friendly glances toward the two of you since you entered the party. You figure it’s because Yerim has yet to leave your side or let go of your arm as you stumble through the flocks of drunk freshmen together.

“The one with the big boobs?” you say, trying to shout past the loud music.

Yerim nods.

“Ah, that’s Eunbi. She’s probably here trying to recruit some new sorority girls. Are you thinking about joining up? We have, uh, history. I can hook you up.” You find a couple of seats and pat on the one next to you.

Yerim lets out a giggle as she sits down as well. Since you’ve spent the entire day together, she’s far more comfortable around you, easily touching you and laughing into your side. The laughter against your neck stokes warmth within you, and with a bit more pressure and section, she’d give you a hickey. She puts her head up. “Mom wants me to. She usually ends up getting what she wants.”

You nod in agreement. “She seems like the type of woman who does.”

Sure, you’re in a miniature Cold War with Haseul (though she started it), but there’s no reason to deny facts. Haseul is a woman who gets what she wants when she wants it and she’ll use any means necessary to get it. Anyone who got in her way would be removed. It shouldn’t surprise you that she acts like that; she’s a woman with taste who only wants the best. You’d just have to prove to her you belonged in high flying whore life. And it all starts—

“Do you like big tits?” Yerim asks softly and giggles.

“What?” Good thing you set down your drink; you would’ve spit it out. You glance at Yerim on your shoulder. Though she stares back at you with big innocent eyes, you catch the slightest glint of mischief in them.

“Do you like big tits? Or do you prefer big asses instead?” When Yerim echoes the question, she adds some spice to her voice.

“Well, I, uh… I mean—what makes you ask?”

Your face finds company in your palm as you stutter further. It can’t be helped. The innocent, puppy-eyed, smiley girl, the one that’s meant to be a prelude to fucking Haseul, nothing more than a conduit to get back at the arrogant woman, is now toying with you. If you weren’t careful, Yerim would foil all your plans with less effort.

Yerim places a finger on her lips. “Well, it’s just that you mentioned Eunbi has big tits. But your eyes were kinda glued to my mom's ass during the tour.”

“Ahh. That.” You scratch the back of your head and beg your brain to find some palatable excuse.

“It’s okay.” Yerim places a hand on your arm and shrugs. “I’m used to it, it’s just… I wish someone would notice my ass. I spent the beginning of the summer at the gym, doing squats. Has it paid off?” With raised brows, she gets up, turns around, and sticks her jean-clad ass in front of your face.

“Yeah.” You chuckle lightly. “You have an amazing ass.”

“Thank you!” Yerim blushes at the compliment said a bit too loudly. She takes her seat back next to you. “You haven’t answered my question yet. Do you prefer ass or tits?” This time she holds her gaze on yours, you look back at her eyes and stare, looking anywhere else just wasn't a possibility.

“What do you think?”

“Hmmm. You mentioned Eunbi had big boobs. But you also ogled my ass and my mom's ass all day.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Yerim chuckles. “I think it’s tits. I have cute ones, don’t you think? Not as big as Eunbi’s but they look good, don’t they?” She makes a show of looking down at her own tits, pushing them up between her arms to flaunt her cleavage. “What do you think?”

“Uhhhh. They look….”

“C'mon, you like them, don’t you? You aren’t going to get a taste of anything just looking at them.” Yerim pulls you closer, places her small hands above yours, and guides them to her tits. She whispers with a wide grin. “Now that’s a proper touch. What do you think?”

“Fuck Yerim, these are fucking stupendous,” you say in a haze of lust. The world around you stops as you take a moment to process just what the fuck is happening, not that anyone cares out of the waves of wasted partygoers. The only thing you care about is that Choi Yerim, this adorable girl, is telling you to feel her tits, asking if her ass looks nice.

If Yerim is like this, you stir at the thought of what Haseul would do.

“Better than Eunbi?” she asks. “They’re smaller but…”

“So fucking perky. Holy fuck, Yerim. I need you. Like now. Let’s get out of here and go back to mine.”

Her grin grows: the predator has her prey. “Hmmm, should I? You did pay attention to my mom all day and not me, and now, I let you cop a bit of a feel, and you already wanna take me back to your dorm? Is that what I should have done from the beginning? Let you grope my amazing tits right there in the courtyard?”

“I should have! Thought about grabbing that ass too and showing your mom what I’m going to do to it.”

“You like my ass, huh? It is a bit thicker than Haseul’s. My ex begged me to let him fuck it. It was fun stringing him along.” She gets up without another word, leaving you breathless.

You’re starting to feel strung along too.

Yerim approaches some random guy whose movements on the dance floor are uncoordinated. She pulls his collar and drags him towards the middle of the room to give you a better view. After Yerim bites her lip and glances at you up and down—pay attention—her bright smile returns. Though she pulls the man close enough to talk in his ear, her voice is loud enough for you to eavesdrop.

“You like my ass, huh? I saw you checking me out while giving me the tour this morning. Where did you go?” Yerim asks the bewildered dude. “What? Can't focus with that hard-on after staring at my butt? Had to ditch us to focus on your work? Here, lemme let you feel what you're missing out on.”

The barrage of questions leaves the man lost for words, yet he has even less than nothing when she turns around to grind her ass on him. Breathless, chest heaving sporadically, the poor guy is little more than a tool for her to fuck with you. Clearly, he’s never had a woman do this to him. Yet here he is, a casualty of a mere proxy war. “I-I I’m sorry. I couldn’t focus on the tour, and wow, that feels good.”

“Mhmm. I bet it does. It’s a nice ass, huh? I can see you like it. You're pretty hard right now. You must be so big.”

You scoff.

“Wow,” the whilom tour guide says with his mouth agape. “Oh my god. You’re so beautiful, and your butt is very nice.”

“Thank you, I’ve worked hard on it!” Yerim barely hides the way she rolls her eyes at the man's comments, looking over to you and mouthing “fucking virgin” before continuing with her little show.

You sit back and enjoy it for now. However, you feel a bit of jealousy and annoyance at being toyed with like this, so you’ll return the favor back to Yerim tenfold once you have the chance. Already, you imagine all the ways you’ll ruin that ass.

Yerim dances to the music, expertly swaying her hips, dropping her ass, and putting hands all over the loser's chest. She turns around and grinds on him some more while she reaches around and wraps both hands around the back of his neck to tug him forward.

All things considered, a great dancer even when drunk.

“How far would you go for me to let you have full access tonight?” Yerim asks in a sultry tone, flipping herself around to look at the man, no doubt to watch him squirm under her gaze. “I’d be your first, wouldn’t I?”

His nod is all Yerim needs. She looks at you for a split second, and the look on her face says it all: Loser.

But that isn’t what comes out of her mouth. Instead, she controls her expression as expertly as her mom. “Aww, that’s so adorable. You’d be mine too. It’d be such a cute story to tell people. Cute tour guide hooking up with the freshman he fell for!” Yerim pinches his cheek more to humiliate him than anything else. “But I’m sorry, I’m so hesitant. I just….. I don't know. I want to know if a guy is committed to me, you know?”

Fucking right. She’d spread her legs at the sight of a massive cock and still play this sweet girl act.

The man panics, wilting under the pressure of Yerim’s gaze. “I’m committed. We don’t even have to do it now. Do you want to get some late-night dinner? Or maybe go on a date sometime?”

You shake your head. This is getting pathetic. You know the type. All too well. The "nice guy." He probably "deserves" her a lot more. Only thought about her ass "respectfully."

That was once you, but the cynicism of time passing breaks the weak into strong, the strong into weak.

You should admit you're a bit tipsy too.

“Hmmm," Yerim tilts her head side to side, vacillatory. "I don’t know. How about…. Nah, never mind. I think I’m going to get going.”

Yerim is slowly pulling away, but then he snatches her hand. The poor man's overboard in thirst now. You stand up, ready to intervene until Yerim sends you a smug look.

“What if…. There’s no way you would.” Yerim has this guy between her fingers.

“No, what is it? I’ll do whatever!”

Yerim chuckles. It isn’t her usual sunshine and rainbow giggle but an arrogant, pathetic laugh. “Then... how about you get on your knees right now and kiss my ass?” Yerim’s eyes are trained on the man, scanning his face for a reaction, her every move calculated.

“I, um—here? In front of this crowd? There are too many people. Can we do it in the bathroom or outside?”

Yerim licks her lips. The red lipstick works wonders for her since the act entrances the man. “Forget it.” She turns to walk away.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

With her back turned to him, Yerim looks at you, smirks, and mouths “too fucking easy,” before she looks expectantly at the man behind her. “Well then, get to it,” she says. The first signs of showing her true colors.

“Right, I, well—“

“Are you going to do it or not?”

He takes the first step toward her, but Yerim stops him.

“Nah, I want you to crawl from there to here.” Yerim points at the wall, where a burgeoning crowd forms, then to the floor at the center of the room where she stands. “You made me walk this far. Isn’t it only fair?”

Now that’s just cruel. Yerim isn’t even trying to hide her bitchy attitude now. Despite that, she can still pass as an innocent girl who wants someone to try for her.

But this must be the line, right? No way he gets down and crawls. Yet to your utter disbelief, in the middle of all the students clustering around, the guy gets on his knees and crawls a few feet to Yerim, then plants a kiss on her left asscheek, probably taking a long whiff as well.

The crowd reacts in a mix of laughter, shock, and insults.

“Dude, have some self-respect.”

“God, that’s so gross.”

“Man, I hope she lets you pound her tight ass until the end of time because that was fucking pathetic…”

“Why are guys so desperate? Ugh, let’s get out of here.”

You would feel bad for the man getting fucked over but watching that does nothing but make your cock rock hard at Yerim’s venom, all just to tease you and make you wait.

“So, uh, h-how about a date?” The man gets up and dusts himself off, doing his best to hide the humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute! I’ll think about it, alright? But hey, I gotta go!” Yerim smiles with no remorse or hint of malice as if she’d genuinely think about it. She gives his cheeks a squeeze. ”I’ll see you around.”

She turns to walk away, leaving the dude speechless and humiliated, and everyone in the room except him knows he just got played.

“What did you think?” Yerim asks you, and the smile that could put stars to shame is still there, though now all you can see is how she uses that to her advantage. She plays with the end of her hair as she raises her brows and gauges your reaction. If Yerim had some gum, she’d be chewing and blowing and popping bubbles.

So, she’s going to make this interesting.

You stand up, snake a hand behind her, and palm her ass. Gripping the flesh over the jeans, you could rip the coarse denim with one hand and take her right there to show that dude he never really stood a chance.

No words are exchanged when you pull her closer to you. Short breaths like nobody's watching. You aren’t sure who makes the first move. Maybe it’s you, having been witness to Yerim’s little show of manipulating men, or maybe it was Yerim with her beautiful eyes locked on your lips.

Regardless, in plain view of everyone, Yerim’s crimson lips mash against yours, the slight taste of apple soju blending with the taste of her cherry lip balm. Any sound besides Yerim’s slight wanting gasps fades. The gasps only intensify when you finally have enough sense to grip her ass tighter with both hands and pull her impossibly closer.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she bites down on your lower lip.

“Think he sees what we’re doing?” you ask.

“I hope so. I wanna see his face.” Yerim turns and scans the crowd. She spots the dude, tears threatening to let loose, and laughs faintly. “He’s about to cry,” she says before pulling you in for another kiss.

“He got to kiss this ass”—which you squeeze—“so it’s a good trade.”

“I’d say so,” Yerim says in a sing-song voice dripping with honey before going in for another kiss, now taking her sweet time. You explore each other’s mouths with your tongues before you withdraw, a string of spit connecting each of your lips. Yerim twirls it around her finger then sucks it down. She understands the implication to the curious crowd when she cleans the digit in her mouth and sucks till her lips are hollow, yet she beams anyway.

You can’t fathom how easily Yerim can be so cruel yet oh-so-sweet.

“Are we going to make this dude watch us make out all night? Or are we going to show me to your dorm,” Yerim gets behind your ear and whispers, “and start to fuck me?”

“I was just making sure you weren’t going to make me kiss your ass first.” You chuckle, taking her hand and walking towards the exit.

“Nope,” Yerim replies as you hit the doors. “But I do want you fuck my ass. Sounds good?”

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe it. Going to send you back home with a limp after tonight.”

You're sure Haseul will know exactly how she got the limp.

Same way she gets them.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Snores come from the three other bedrooms. Hopefully, that means Yunho got lucky—or if not, whatever’s necessary for him to vacate your shared sleeping quarters.

“Shh.” You cover Yerim’s’ mouth as you pull away from the makeout session in the front door, a hint of alcohol shared between your tongues. “We need to be quiet, alright?”

Yerim pulls your wrist down and pouts. “Aww, really? I wanted to wake up the whole dorm, make ‘em hear me sucking your cock, just so they know.”

Though you shake your head, you don’t stop her from kneeling; instead, wet your lips in anticipation when Yerim gets closer, knee by knee. She throws her black leather jacket onto the couch. With pink nail polish bright in the dark living room, her hand undoes the zipper on your jeans, works inside, and fondles your shaft. You shudder, frozen in the middle of the living room despite the summer warmth from the weak A/C.

“Mmm, is this all for me?” Yerim’s fingers aren’t as rhetorical, jerking up-down. “Even after drinking? Seeing me humiliate that little loser really did a number on you.”

You shush her again. “Not here.”

“I think this place is perfect. Did you fuck your ex in your dorm’s communal areas too? Or did you like fucking her in your roommates’ rooms? I bet this cock made that bitch squirm.”

She's right but—“Yerim, just... oh fuck. Let’s go to my room.”

“Is that what you tell the sorority sluts?”

“Don’t act like you won’t be one of them.”

“Me?” Yerim puts a hand on her chest, faux appalled, and bats her eyelids. “I’m innocent. It’s you who’s corrupting me with thoughts of sucking cock,” she whispers.

“Fuck, you know you should stop acting like some angelic girl next door college student. You’re literally a harlot from hell.”

“Isn’t that the best part? The innocent card works for me. Filters out the little bitches that can’t handle this cunt. I’m sure this campus is full of ‘em, like the nerd. If he really wanted to fuck me, he’d have grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the closest bathroom, then railed me right there. Hell, he should have fucked me on the dance floor. Not stutter and call me cute. I mean, what the fuck. It’s pathetic. You… you’re different.”

Yerim and her mom have a tendency to leave you speechless.

Her tone shifts back to that slow, lovely, higher pitch. “I’m not a bad girl. Oppa, I just wanna make you feel good tonight.” The woman in front of you drives you mad. Her cheery bright smile and warm attitude betray her true colors.

“God, quit talking and start sucking my cock.”

“That’s what I wanna hear.” Yerim smiles; even in the dark, it shines. She takes your cock out fully and frees it. The springing thing smacks her in her lips. “Holy fuck.”

Of course, the trap is sprung. “Hm?”

“I-I’ve never seen one this big before.”

“No need to butter me up,” you say.

However, Yerim’s mouth is still open in legitimate bewilderment.

“Don’t tell me you're going to back out now. You can’t get me hard like this and not do something about it, Yerim.” You chuckle darkly.

“I… I’m not sure it’s going to all fit.” For the first time tonight, Yerim isn’t playing around; there’s no hint of her usual flirtatious undertones. She’s just a freshman who’s never seen a cock this big and is now about to second guess begging to be plowed by it.

“Put it in your mouth,” you command. Yerim hesitates for just a split second, and you take control. You grip the back of her head and bring her nose right in front of your cock. “That’s right. Take it in.”

Yerim whiffs and whimpers. “Fuck.”

You catch her discreetly trying to use her tongue to wipe the drool from her lips. “I saw that. Drooling for a cock you say you can’t take? What’s the point in hiding it?”

“Wait, it’s too big. Wait, no, I want it, I need it, I just—I don’t know—“

You use that opening to push your cock in her mouth. The first few inches slide in without much work, but Yerim gags about midway.

To your surprise, Yerim doesn’t shove you off. Instead, she reaches behind, grips your thighs, and pushes herself even further to force the entirety down her throat. Her eyes water, her mascara runs, and her gagging and coughing vibrate your dick more as she presses on inch by challenging inch—you must be the largest she’s ever swallowed.

Nothing shatters your earth more than her devotion to devouring your length. The human reaction to gasp for air does not deter her; rather, it’s overridden by her need to prove her worthiness for a cock so big.

Pat her head. “There you go. Look at that. You’re a fucking pro. Did your mom give you tips? Is that how you bonded?”

“Shwut up abvout thwat whowe. Ahm way bettew than...”

Though her cock-mumbled speech fades, Yerim won’t quit choking when she’s so close to the root. At least, not until the lack of oxygen makes her eyes half-lidded, makes her gag out a couple inches (still plenty down her throat though.) She looks ready to pass out with a mouthful of your cock just to prove a point.

It’s admirable, the way she makes up for her clear inexperience with sheer want and horny fucking will. But alas, passing out at the beginning of a full-fledged fuckathon does nobody any good. The moon beams down a quiet light: there’s plenty more night to waste. So against every fiber of your being, yank her hair to free yourself from her lips’ grasp. Her hands on the back of your thighs resist the pull, but eventually, you extract your cock out of her warm fuckhole.

Yerim falls onto her ass with a small yelp because she loses her balance when she detaches from your shaft, counteracting forces of her resisting and you pulling.

“Holy fuck, I was so close. It’s so big, and I was so fucking close! Give that dick back.” Though she intakes air in desperate huffs, she spares a few seconds for her physical needs before animalistic desire takes her over again. With lightning speed, her mouth surrounds your dick again, this time taking it further before she gags. Her eyes bounce back and forth—your cock, your eyes, your cock, your eyes again; it’s a lot like her head that bobs up and down and resounds rhythmic slurpy wetness with each sip of your dick.

Gluck, gack. Gluck, gack. Gluck...

Yerim does not quite slide down to the hilt of your length, but she decides to suck on what she can, barely letting a few inches out at a time. Her eyes cross as she stares lovingly.

“This cock is amazing. Your ex was a stupid bitch.” Yerim salivates and splutters on your shaft. The building waterfall of spit joins the sweat on her crop-top, making her cleavage glisten—you’ll certainly fuck her tits later. Right now, some of that saliva flows down to her tight tummy.

You bundle a messy ponytail in your hand. The shades of purple work on her, though creamy white would suit her far better.

“If I was her, I’d never let this cock out of my sight. I bet you’ve got bitches lined up out this door waiting. You should tell them to go home. I’m using this thing all night.”

“You know, for someone who hasn’t even throated the full length, you sure talk a lot of shit. My ex had no problem taking—“

Any train of thought derails at once. Yerim once again forces, or tries to force, every inch of your cock, her plump cheeks hollowing. Even in her disheveled state, her smile is as bright as ever around your girth. You satisfy that smile further by gripping her hair and using her head like a sex toy.

“I’m so, so frhking cwose to the...” Yerim gargles spit and flesh as your balls slap against her chin. She pushes further, once more grabbing your thighs and using them to drive further. With her nose on your pelvis, you know she’s impossibly deep yet wants more, feeling the pressure of her hands on the back of your thighs.

With your help, with plenty of gagging and moaning—“Kweep, gh, fugking, gh, gwoing”—you finally tap the back of her throat. Yerim groans in pure joy, enjoying the moment, the base of your shaft around her lips, only for you to take it away with a backwards thrust of your hips.

She looks forlorn as if you just took away her car, her house, her favorite toy. (That last one might be true in a literal sense.) You want to pretend it’s about showing her who’s the boss, but being honest with yourself, it’s not about control; if you weren’t careful, she would have made you cum without delay. Therefore, you tug her away. Your cock exits her mouth with a loud pop, thick globs of spit dripping on your length.

“Fuck! Why did you pull me off? I was right there. I took it all!”

“Yeah, with my fucking help.”

“Again!” Yerim gets back up to pounce, but you take a step back and crook your index finger. “Seriously?”

“You want it that bad?”

She nods vigorously.

“Crawl.”

Yerim gets on her knees with little thought; getting on all fours right after is just as instinctive for her.

You stumble back as Yerim takes quick licks of your cock which leaks much precum. She backs you up further as she crawls, slowly following your cock, swinging it in her hand before she catches a grip and uses the mass of meat to smack her plump cheeks playfully. Dull thudding noises reverberate in the empty, messy room. Finally, you find yourself hitting your back on your door.

Yerim gasps as she comes face to face with your cock, a playful pout on her lips. “Nowhere to run? Boohoo.”

“I wasn’t running. Just wanted you to feel how you made that fucking loser feel at the party.”

“Please.” Yerim scoffs when you remind her about the humiliated man. “He’s lucky I let him touch me. He probably came in his pants.”

“I did see a little wet spot.”

“Pathetic.” Her tongue circles around your cock, and the soft, warm flesh licking around your shaft makes your legs buckle for just a moment. The twirls of her tongue are sloppy, but her eager drive more than makes up for it.

“Never even met that bitch before.”

Yerim looks up at you, dick on her lips. “R-really? You lied?”

“What? Don’t act like you’re innocent. Had to do anything to get that pretty mouth, urgh, right there.” You throw your head back when she tightens those lips, but you glare back down at her. “That’s right. You gonna stop sucking that dick?”

Yerim eases her mouth but takes your glossy shaft in her fingers. “Fuck no. It’s too perfect. I can barely fit a hand on...” Her breaths heavy, Yerim’s eyes blur as they admire your length, and she twists her hands up and down to familiarize herself with it further.

Your eyes must undergo the same dimming at the overloading of your most sensitive spots, but quick huffs through pursed lips return you to the world. “That’s right. Who cares what the fuck I did? Look at that cock like it’s your god. Worship it.”

Yerim runs kisses up and down, finds every inch of flesh, and trails her tongue around. “Mhmm. Tastes so fucking good. I want this so fucking much. So fucking big, I just…” she trails off, and sucks on the tip instead of talking. As she swirls around the cockhead, she sucks all your precum.

“Ah fuck, there you go. By the end of the night, I’m going to make sure you can take it all without any noise. You’re gonna need that skill since you’ll be spending a lot of time under the library tables sucking me off. Can’t have the whole library knowing I’m getting the best brain of my life, can we?”

“Mwph, nnuh-uh,” Yerim says, still sucking a few inches, but then she releases with a slurp. Heady from the head she’s giving, she becomes even more bubbly and airheaded. “We’d get kicked out before you even feed me my cum!”

“What a smart girl. Now quit teasing me and get to work. I’m not like that pussy at the party. Start sucking me off before I call up someone else.” You smack her cheek with your cock.

A sharp gasp from Yerim. She looks up at you, eyes wide. “Wh-what did you just say? After all that, you—”

“I said, get to sucking. You’ve pranced around with your two-faced attitude. A spoiled freshman who’s had everything handed to her by her bitch of a mom, and on top of that, one that plays and fucks with guys for fun. Leading people on and fucking with them for shits and giggles, probably getting wet over it, but I’m not a simp like that loser at the party. Bet you’ve never been treated like this before. You got me hard, so now you’re going to take care of it.”

This is a gamble: if Yerim decides to walk away now, your entire day will be ruined, and it’ll be back to slutty sorority girls. If it works, however, step 1 will be in motion. And all indications point to Yerim being down for this.

“Are you deaf? Get to it.”

You’re surprised anyway by her first sign of reticence. “I, uh—okay, of course, I need…” Yerim looks up with those doe eyes, but instead of its usual innocence, it’s now clouded with lust as she takes your cock with both hands and spits on it. She spits on it again. Again. “Ptoo. Just need, need to make it, make it wet.”

Now it’s soaked when she locks eyes with you and slips your erection into her mouth. Every inch, every nerve feels alive.

“Just like that. Yesss,” you hiss and grunt. Your back slips against the wooden door, and your hands search for something to hold onto—she’s about to take you on the ride of your life. Eventually, you gather yourself enough for common sense, gripping her violet hair. It looks exactly right like it’s made for this. Like it’s made to be gripped, in dark areas, in shady corners of the room, made to be looked down on as she goes to work on cock. And in the light barely there, the shades shine bright.

Sure, you’ve fucked Nayeon plenty of times here, and she was much more experienced, but Yerim would put her to shame. This moment brings you more pleasure than anything you did with your ex. Moans and gargled noises echo in the common room.

Yerim keeps up her dick-dumbed speech: “Gonna hammer this cowck intwo my moufh. Fuwck this thing into my brain, make it tap the bawck ohf my thwoat, and make an impwint wight theh—bleh, right there.”

Your roommates surely hear it, but you can’t care much either when you’re getting the head of your life from the hottest woman—well, the second hottest woman you’ve laid your eyes on. (Good thing your thoughts about her mom are private, especially when she’s giving you a blowjob.) While keeping her mouth on your cock, she gets on her feet, bends her down to get as much leverage as she can. The only points of balance for Yerim are her hands on your legs and your shaft in her throat.

You stare at her ass jiggling in her jeans as much as her face impaling itself to its deepest extent, but you stop staring and start acting: reach down to knead through the denim and earn her throat’s vibration around your cock.

“Fuck, like that, whore.”

Yerim looks up from her arched stance. A glint in her eyes.

“Should’ve known. You like that, whore?”

“Mmhkm, I love it!” Yerim inhales your cock with ease—or at least, easier than before. Practically skull fucking herself, she pushes herself as far as she can, then pulls out, spits out a stream, and goes right back in for more. Even as tears fall and black makeup streaks down her cheeks, Yerim never breaks eye contact, never loses that gleam of love for your cock.

“Goddamn. Here...” You seize control, putting pressure on her hair, using it to pull her head. “Since you're so eager to try and skullfuck this dick, I’ll show you how it’s done, slut.”

You yank her down roughly to make her kneel again, but flip her so that she’s against the door instead. Yerim staggers a bit as you drag her back to the position, knees surely scraping on the carpet. “Asshole!” Yerim exclaims, but she doesn’t have time to say much else when you embed your cock to the hilt. She coughs and gags wildly, but that doesn’t deter you, only emboldens you when it makes your cock pulsate. The back of her head flat on the door, mouth full of cock, and all you see in her eyes that meekly glance up is the burning desire for more.

“Am I an asshole? Or the man you always wanted?” You take a step back… only to ram your cock in and out at a brutal pace, hitting the back of her throat each time and leaving the imprint she wants.

With each pistoning motion, Yerim chokes, weak pathetic breaths through her nose, and you only fuck her mouth deeper. That nose is getting used to the salty spit, the sweaty musk, the overall wanton filthiness that leaves a puddle of fluids on the shared floor. The pressure has you on the edge. Each time you push, her head knocks on the door like a desperate guest. Your rapid pace must make the back of her head sore, yet the discomfort doesn’t faze her. Only small tears now.

“Fucking see that? See this bulge?” You decelerate your thrusts, leaving your leaky tip in the back of her mouth. Yerim looks down, and her eyes grow in shock while you jerk yourself through her neck. “Yeah, that’s my dick in your fucking throat. I own this shit, don’t I?”

She nods, and you pull out.

“Use your words.”

“Haah, you own this throat. Fuck me with your cock. Fuck it daily. I want this cock in my mouth when I go to sleep. Fuck me till I can’t breathe, fuck me stupid with this cock!” Yerim pleads, her eyes watering. Her tongue lays flat on the underside of your shaft as she slurps on your dick, your hand moving slightly with her head as you still have her leash—er, hair between your fingers. “Please. I love this cock. Fuck my throat, I want to feel your cum!”

“You’re doing such a good job. Hngh, take it all the way. Take it, I’m going to fucking cum soon.” You don’t apply any pressure, don’t push her head any further. Yerim does it all on her own. Though you shut your eyes, try to look away, and think of anything else to stave off the incoming burst, it’s useless. Like fighting against a rogue wave in the ocean, it’s better to let go. Pound into her mouth, rapid insertions now, as it isn’t the time anymore to go throat deep. Her fuckhole lips are a warm, slick hand to jack yourself off.

Yerim pouts on your cock when she stops feeling the shaft fully choking her, but you couldn’t care less—your pleasure comes first.

“Fuck, here it comes!” You grip her head with both hands, fuck her mouth for a few strokes, and then finally push all the way when the internal pressure spikes and bursts you open. Your cock vibrates and flexes before shooting stream after stream of unseen cum into the back of her throat. Straight to the stomach. You groan out while more semen pulses out over and over, your forehead resting on the door. “Take that, Yerim. That’s for you!”

Yerim coughs and struggles to handle the massive load. Cum leaks with bubbles of saliva from both corners of her lips.

Pulling out is difficult; her suction on your shaft is so great you struggle to yank her mouth off. You realize it’s less physics and more just plain gluttony from Yerim, before you’re able to pull her away by the hair, her head hitting the door with a thud. Your cock exits with an echoing pop.

Yerim coughs, flecks of cum flying all over the place. On her chest. On her clothes. On her belly button and abs. She wipes her tears but only spreads her mascara around more—gorgeous regardless. She wipes the mess of cum, only to clean off her fingers and gulp it back down.

Diligently, she wipes your cock with her tongue.

“You taste so good,” Yerim says, her voice wrecked from the deepthroating.

“Yeah, it shows. Ready for me to fuck you?”

“Yes! I need this inside me! Now!” Yerim is about to get up, already ready for more.

“Wait,” you say. Keep her on her knees and grab a handful of her hair and clean your spit-slathered cock with it. The lush strands feel amazing on your cock, and you instantly harden again.

“Seriously?” Though on Yerim’s face, less annoyance, more amusement.

“Seriously. I fucking own every part of you, pretty hair included. Now let’s go,” you say, opening your bedroom door. “Time to claim my next hole.”

Without objection, Yerim crawls through the open door and towards you. Hands and knees on the dirty dorm floors—if there’s any discomfort, she doesn’t show it. In fact, Yerim looks like a natural at it. Sure, the bedroom eyes make Yerim appear as the blissed-out whore she is, but her movement is anything but, slithering swift yet elegant towards you.

Your eyes flash hunger. Her stare stirs a deep fire within you. Maybe Yerim is goading you into losing your cool and fucking her right there on the dirty floor.

That, or she just likes to crawl on her knees for dick.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you say. No watch on your wrist but you point to it anyway.

“You’re the one who’s making me crawl, asshole!” Yerim snaps back.

“I never said to crawl into the room. You just assumed. Seems that’s your natural position. On your hands and knees begging for dick, zero self respect as long as a cock is pounding your holes.”

“Oh, fuck you.“ Yerim half scoffs and half chuckles, enjoying your insults more than she wants to let on. “Now let me get this cock in my fucking—mouwf.”

“Fuck! There you go! Really missed these lips.” You groan slightly and your head hangs back. Yerim’s hot, wet, filthy mouth slobbers on your cock, her tongue works magical circles around your shaft, and her hand automatically reaches up and toys with your balls as if they belong to her. You hiss. “Even a couple minutes gone has me wanting more. Just quit school. Be my blowjob doll all day.”

Yerim’s eyes waver as if she’s really considering it.

“Damn, Yerim. What a good whore.” Your hands run fingers through her hair and gently scratch her scalp to encourage her. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmhmm! Gonna, hah, make, ah, my throat, hgh, mold this dick,” Yerim says in quick bursts as she takes just a second to gather some air before she devours your cock again; it’s as if she hates any second her mouth wasn’t slobbering on your meat.

“I believe it. but…” Push her face into your crotch and keep her there, leaning forward, pushing all your weight on her head, and driving your cock as deep as it can go. For the first time, Yerim tries to push herself up and get some air, but the way her throat vibrates your dick makes it feel far too good—her moans and groans make it feel even better. Savor the struggle before she coughs out your shaft. You plant kisses on the top of her head and whisper in her ear, “I hope you did a good enough job fucking my cock with your mouth, making it nice and wet, because I’m planning on fucking this ass.”

“Fuck, I couldn’t breathe,” Yerim says, her expression empty. For the first time, you think that maybe your gamble might have failed, that you’ve gone too far—then her bright smile returns, the same one that greeted you. However, this time, it’s full of lust, and her face is a mess. “I fucking loved it!”

You share her smile. Yerim undoes her black jeans and pulls off her cropped shirt. In just a few seconds, she’s down to simple red bras and panties. You follow her in undress, your outfit as swiftly floor-bound.

“Spit on this one more time and bend over.” Smacking your cock on your hand, Yerim does as she’s told: she lewdly spits on your cock before she stands up and walks towards your small desk. You stand up too to lock the door, then turn around—

You never asked her to sweep aside everything on the table, tossing your laptop, books, and notes to the floor to clear the deck for her anal experience.

“Whoops,” Yerim says, her eyes taunting you when she looks back. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

It won’t stop you from paying back the blatant disrespect.

“You fucking bitch!” you bellow. Instantly, you rip her doused panties off. The snap makes her squeal. You take a lewd whiff, then toss it over your shoulder. “Fucking spoiled slut. Think your bitch mommy is going to fucking bail you out of this shit?”

“Wait a second!”

“Nah.” Your fierce, reddening smack on her ass is her only warning. You yank her by the hair and push your cockhead into her asshole, the anger driving you forward inch by inch despite the tightness of her anal entrance. You don’t completely bury your cock inside like she deserves for her little bitch move, but you do go faster than expected, shoving a few inches at a time. Through clenched teeth and seething rage, you say, “Take it. I’m not stopping.”

Yerim finds herself shouting profanity after profanity as she loses more and more of her mind to the shaft penetrating her tightest fuckhole. Her head bangs on the table, as do both of her balled-up fists. Tears come out too, but she shouts anyway: “More!”

“You stupid whore! This is supposed to be me punishing you, yet here you are, begging and groaning for more? I should pull out and stop fucking you. Now that’s a punishment for a slut like you. That might be what you actually deserve, you spoiled cunt!” You push the last few inches until your balls slap her ass.

She screams at the suddenness, the force of your tip hitting her guts.

“It’s all in. Now I should just pull out and kick you out. Let you get a taste and have you addicted and cut you off.” You do just that, slowly unsheathing yourself and making her feel every inch. Her muscles strain and her ass shifts back to keep your cock locked unto her asshole, but the further you pull away, the more difficult it gets.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’ll buy you a new laptop! Whatever you want! Just, please… please, fuck me!” Yerim is desperate, her voice weak.

You can only scoff at the reaction. “Fuck. You really are just a dumb slut. What else will you give me?” Your erection is right on the edge of pulling out. You tease her contracting asshole by sliding your cockhead a bit back and forth, in and out.

“Anything!” Yerim turns towards you. Eyes shine with fresh tears of pleasure, and bangs stick to her head with drying cum. You smile at your work. “You can live with me at my mom’s penthouses, fuck me in every corner! Anything, just fuck me!”

At her command, you relented. An upgrade to your living situation and pussy to use at any time. You couldn’t beat that deal. You pushed inside her all the way, grunting when you bottomed out.

“More! More!”

“As you wish, Yerim.” You part your legs a bit more and plant them before you drive forward, your hips working at maximum power since every thrust is a herculean endeavor given the tautness of her ass. Each snap of your hips fully lodges your cock into Yerim and drives your desk against the flimsy wall.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The wood splinters on the corner of your desk; the drywall it’s banging into doesn’t fare any better, cracks already forming.

“Fuck, this asshole is—grh.” Yerim’s ass keeps gripping, clinging, massaging your cock. Oh, the sheer impossibility of pulling out, the sheer need to do anything but.

“Pound my ass, pound my slutty fucking ass, my tight, needy ass! Ram it, use it, anything. Please, please.” And so the combinations of her filthy mouth repeat.

“You know who fucking desperate you sound right now? You know how much of a hungry whore you sound like, Yerim? Was this what you wanted all along? When you asked what I preferred, did you secretly hope I picked ass just so you can get time to fuck it?”

“God, yes! I was waiting for you to say ass. I would have unzipped your pants, pulled your cock out and... oh my fuck, yes, right there!” Your dick rearranging her guts seems to override her thoughts every so often. “Fuck, I would have fucked your cock right there! Instead, you made me let that fucking loser tour guide kiss my ass, act like a little simp, and plead with me to take him out!”

“Made you? You enjoyed that shit.”

“You’re right, right, I don't care! I’m just a dumb whore, an anal whore, just keep, keep fucking, harder, harder. Just don’t stop, never stop, oh god.”

Your consciousness leaves your body with the tremendous bliss that overheats your brain. Out of body, you feel your detached self burn in fatigue at the effort of your hips. You see the hole where the desk meets the wall, hear roommates shouting to keep it down—who cares. All that exists is fucking Yerim. Eventually Haseul too, but right now that arrogant woman is an afterthought.

“Yo, seriously! Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m trying to fucking sleep, asshole!

You’re rudely brought back down to the world, but worldly pleasures aren’t so bad, the tight ring lovingly hugging your girth up and down. Add more spit while some pre-cum leaks out. “Hear that, Yerim? Keep it the fuck down!”

“All I need’s this cock. Fuck them.”

You agree with her sentiments. Fuck your roommates. You aren't going to be living here much longer anyways, from the sound of things.

“Goddamn Yerim. Nayeon, my ex, didn’t even let me fucking touch her asshole until we said ‘I love you’ to each other. Yet here you are, your whole body begging for it even if you can barely take it all.” You’re impressed at how much Yerim can handle. She’s like the perfect fuck AI, learning by the second and with a body built for sex, made for pleasure.

“Fuck! What a stupid fucking bitch.” Now getting more used to the brutal assault, her holes already sculpting to your shaft, Yerim is able to form a few more coherent thoughts in between profanity. “What the fuck does ‘I love you’ have to do with a dick in your ass? Ugh, it feels too good. I couldn’t give a fuck about love as long as you fucked me just like this. Just like that, like that, yess.”

Yerim spewing such venomous words to a woman you once loved would normally make you angry, but instead it only turned you on more. You can’t deny her logic. What does love have to do with pure animalistic fucking?

Or maybe there’s a different word for the kind of love her rear entrance makes to your cock. It’s a love that pulls out the primal heat and pulses and hormones from deep within. “Yerim, I’m going to cum! You’re going to milk my fucking cock.”

“Mhmm. Cum in me. I wanna feel that strong hot jet of cum paint my asshole.”

One hand wraps around her waist while the other chokes Yerim by the neck. She gasps at the loss of air but turns her head to kiss you, lewdly licking your face as you lightly strangle her and grip her right to your body. You pick up the pace once more, not wanting to disappoint. Each thrust threatens the edge to become the fall.

Yerim’s words are slow and punctuated by gasps and squirming squeals. “Fuck me, god, choke me tight, and cum in me, I want it all, give it to me, fuck, yes, yes, cum in my ass, tight, tight, choke and fuck, more, more, hnh.”

“Seriously, shut up, bitch!”

The banging on the walls and your door keep going. High five past self for thinking about the future for once and locking the door.

“I have a test tomorrow, man, what the fuck, keep it down!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up! You guys are—fuck, oh fuck, right there!—you guys are jealous you aren’t fucking like this! Just listen and jerk off, fuck!” Yerim screams back loud enough to wake up the whole campus.

That moment is that very fall foretold. You let go. Your balls pulse, your cock screams in painful pleasure as it shoots ropes and ropes of hot cum straight into Yerim. Her jaw slack, her chest panting for air, she becomes more blissed out with each load that enters her asshole.

“Yes! Fuck, I feel so full.”

You slowly let go of Yerim, letting the broken girl fall onto the broken desk, face first. Since cum still spurts as you pull out, you aim the rest at her asscheeks, fulfilling the perfection you imagined with streaks down her thighs. Smack your cock on it and slap the soft pillows and squeeze them as if you own them.

Luckily, the shouting to “keep it down” has died down for now. Yerim is panting and huffing to gather air, hair disheveled and out of place. She turns to look at you, her smile unfading.

“Damn.” Yerim’s fingers tease between her legs, feeling her slippery pussy lips underneath the used, sticky hole.

“Damn indeed,” you echo with heavy breaths.

Yerim gets up and stumbles a tad. She whispers a “thank you” before she smooches you and holds you in a long embrace.

“You’re welcome.” It’s the first genuine moment between the two of you that isn’t full of games and sexual undertones.

Yerim looks up into your eyes parting from the kiss. Obvious lust is tinged with another emotion you can’t quite pin down. The silence draws on longer as Yerim’s hand gently caresses your chin and her lips leave reckless kisses all over your face.

In unknown territory for the time being and wanting out of it immediately, you shake your head.

“So you weren’t kidding about the penthouse? Because my roommates are about to give me so much shit.”

You only catch something in Yerim’s eyes between two blinks—a split second of disappointment, some missed hint. Puzzles aren’t your strong suit.

“We could sneak out right now. Just grab all your stuff,” Yerim says, brushing it off.

“Yo, fucking seriously?” The door rattles as if it had anger itself.

You chuckle. “Speak of the devil—“

“C’mon asshole, have some fucking respect!”

“Err, devils.” You split away from Yerim and dash across the room in a whirlwind. “I’ll get to packing.”

“Right… well, I’ll, uh—I’ll go distract them?” Yerim’s normally bright and cheery voice is missing the sunshine and rainbows in them.

“Just get some rest. I’ll handle them,” you say, patting Yerim’s head.

She gives a final weak smile and long exhalation before she flops onto the bed.

“Fuck it, I’m going in!” The door swings open, missing you by a few inches and slamming into the busted up desk. The weakest fucking locks. Good thing you’re leaving.

“Yo, what the fuck. Some privacy?” You shove him in annoyance, not caring that you’re fully nude. Ryo bumps into Allen, and both hit the side of the entrance. They stand motionless and unable to speak when they see the girl on your bed.

Your blanket barely covers Yerim who lays there passed out. Her fingers still dip into her cunt and rub it in circles, either blissfully unaware of the intrusion or knowingly enjoying it. Her hair is mixed with sweat and dried cum, chest heaving and eyes lidded. A smile on her despite being asleep.

All three of you snap out of your respective trances. When you shove them back out the door, this time the two resist. “Get the fuck out before I beat your asses. Quit looking at her. She’s fucking mine. Go find your own fucking pussy!”

After you slam the door shut (don’t bother with the locks), Yerim begins to stir a bit, so you give her a kiss on the forehead and stroke her hair.

“Really gave me a run for my money there,” you whisper.

Though packing your belongings is a rush job, you finish it in silence. Give the room a onceover, pick up any stray items, and check your backpack. Make sure your laptop—just a couple dead pixels on the screen—your Switch, and textbooks are there. Check your pockets one last time and confirm your wallet and your keys; you fish them out, remove your dorm key, and toss it aside carelessly.

Relative to anal with Yerim, not even a sweat.

Time passes when you lie next to the sleeping Yerim and watch her pretty face—who cares how much it is? It could be one minute or a whole day. The particulars aren’t for you.

But eventually, you stand up reluctantly and open the door with a sigh.

“See, I told you,” Ryo says to Allen. Neither of them seem too concerned about you.

Allen’s eyes go wide. “What, what the fuck.”

“I thought it’d be one of the usual thots, not…” Ryo mumbles. “Who is she?”

They’ve clearly been waiting outside, ready to pounce and give you a piece of their minds on your way out—that, or to get one more peek at Yerim, judging by their red faces.

“None of your beeswax. Little bee dick losers. Go and cry to the RA. I don’t give a fuck. Imma be gone before the sun’s awake.” You hold your bag up.

Allen facepalms. “Oh, so you couldn’t have waited?”

You opt to ignore the nerd and turn your attention to the stark girl prone in the mattress. “Yerim.”

She slowly stretches her limbs and opens her eyes. A hint of your cream leaks out her rear. “Wh-wha…” Yerim yawns and smiles dreamily at you. “Morning, babe.”

“Pff. Babe? Save that for when I creampie you properly," you say, and Ryo recoils in disgust. "Oh, and call a ride. ‘Cause if not, you’re giving me head in the back of an Uber.”

“You’re a fuckin’ bastard, you know that?" Allen shakes his head. "I said I have a goddamn test later today.”

“Hey boys!” Yerim waves. Shs crawls over to grab her clothes from the floor. Hands on the floor, tits hanging, perky ass shape in full display—you want to take her for anal, round two, in front of your (now ex) roommates. She makes eye contact with Allen and smirks. “He’s a bastard getting chauffeured to a luxury suite.”

“Tsk, naughty girl,” you say when she shimmies back into her underwear. “You’re gonna stain your panties with cum.”

Yerim pokes her tongue out at you before she gets up and grabs your arm. “That’s how I like it. Let’s go… daddy,” she whispers for you alone.

The two of them realize they don’t register as people in front of your eyes at all. Ryo sighs and heads back to his bedroom while Allen huffs and puffs, standing there as if he’s going to do something.

He won’t.

"The room's a fucking mess! Look at all this shit you broke! Are you gonna leave this goddamn broken desk and wall here, you piece of shit, you gotta be fucking kiddi…"

How bold the drabble. It's easy to tune him out because people like that never really get to action. His glares of righteous fury amount to nothing at the end of the day.

You walk downstairs and outside with Yerim in hand—more than in hand, you have to hold the weak-legged Yerim. Bask in the fresh dawn air.

As you wait together on the bench for the ride (some luxury black sedan apparently), Yerim’s phone rings.

“Hi, mom. Yes, I called the driver. Yes, of course I was out at a party. No, I—okay, yeah, obviously, I’ll tell you about it later, just… You mean, my condo? Yes, yes, yours, you know what I mean, the one I live at. No! Just use the other one! The one that’s two buildings over. It’s so much nicer, it has the gym with the equipment you like, and I need privacy for studying. Don’t tell me you don’t get loud too whenever you—ha, thought so. Okay, I’ll see you around.”

After Yerim hangs up, you ask, “Is this gonna be a problem?”

“Oh, not at all. I swear, she won’t even mind you living there. It’s just that if she finds out, she’s definitely gonna… Look, don’t worry about it.” Yerim squeezes your arm.

No need for that. You don’t do silly things like worry. After all, the future doesn’t exist. There’s only this tick of the clock and the next; that's all you can control.

You can't control Yerim learning over in the backseat, her mouth sloppily loud as it is wet.

You certainly cannot control the exact moment you puff up her cheeks.

So goes another second for the clock to record.

Handle the rest later.

#kpop smut #loona smut #reader insert #male reader #collab #jettsdraft

515 notes · View notes

cherrykindness · 3 years

Text

let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #fluffy imagine #harry fluff #actress reader

1K notes · View notes

bumbleklee · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your work and I’ve been binging it for a while! <3 I was wondering if I could have some angst and a broken heart since it seems I like to suffer. ;’) Can I have headcannon with an insecure adventurer reader who’s in a relationship with one of the Mondstadt boys (or just the dark night because I’m down bad since he didn’t come home). They are insecure because while they are a great adventurer, ever since the traveler came, they’ve been living in the traveler’s shadow with everyone, even possibly the readers lover, praising the traveler. The reader takes on increasingly difficult missions, even putting their life on the line since they feel as though they have to prove themselves. In an attempt to stop the reader, the Mondstadt boys tell the reader that they aren’t the traveler, but instead of the good intent behind it, the reader takes it as if their lover prefers the traveler and decides to try and give up adventuring since they realized that not once did their lover go on an adventure with them, but they did with the Traveler. This was long, I’m sorry, but feel free to reject it! Stay safe and healthy!

hey!!! a few little notes: i ended up going with just diluc and instead of hcs, i wrote a little one-shot. i hope you enjoy it and i hope i nailed your idea lol <3 enjoy! (requests are open) also: u will pull diluc!!! and thank u for ur support :3

before reading: 1.8k words, little mentions of blood but nothing graphic, kinda angsty w feelings of despair (tw?? idk), under cut for length

The first time you realized you had fallen into Lumine’s shadow is when your weekly commissions are given to her. Jean didn’t give you much explanation when she sent you home for the day but you could only assume it’s because Lumine could do them better

The second time is when you were absent for a weekend to clear out Hiluchurls from Wolvendome and when you returned back to Mondstadt to share the news, everyone was preoccupied helping Lumine find her brother.

The third time is when, despite your tireless efforts to protect your hometown this year, Lumine was chosen as the Windblume Star.

You had gone from the Knights of Favonius' greatest knight to a mere shadow. Your accomplishments and achievements felt like nothing when compared to Lumine’s and you became desperate to be known again. You watched your teammates pick Lumine over you, choosing to accompany her on adventures, and your friends constantly chatting about how amazing she was.

And, well, she was.

Lumine was beautiful. She was delicate and soft and fought gracefully, while you often came home covered in dirt or blood. And she was kind - so, so kind. She offered her hand to you on multiple occasions, never once seeing you as the threat you saw her as. And beyond her looks, Lumine was passionate and strong and everything you were not. She had everything you had and more except for one thing.

Diluc.

But when you saw Lumine sitting at the bar in the tavern, sharing a daring story with your boyfriend, you became doubtful.

From your seat on the second level of the tavern, you had a perfect view of the pair. Diluc looked happy - perhaps even happier than with you - and your heart broke. Would Lumine be the end of an era between you and Diluc? You loved Diluc to death and all you wanted was for him to be happy.

The truth was, you were running out of patience, running out of fake enthusiasm and fake laughs and fake smiles when Diluc bragged to you about what Lumine did that day. The constant praises and compliments towards a woman who wasn’t even in the room tore you apart bit-by-bit. You were finding it harder to get through each day as Diluc slipped through your fingers.

When you finally broke your silence, you talked to Kaeya.

It was an accidental breakdown - Kaeya had made a cheeky comment about how his brother was spending an awfully lot of time with the traveler and you just broke down. Realizing the severity of the situation, Kaeya pulled you into his office and closed the door. He let you sit at his desk until you calmed down.

“What’s going on?”

So, you told him. You finally let out the bottled up despair and, frankly, jealousy you had been holding in for the past few weeks. You told Kaeya about how you went from ‘hero to zero’ and how you didn’t even deserve to be a knight anymore.

“If I’m not a knight, I don’t have a purpose,” You said solemnly. “I haven’t picked up my sword in a month, Kaeya.”

Kaeya makes a noise of acknowledgement and urges you to continue.

“And I can’t stand how she’s better than me! I’m the Revolutionary Knight - not her!” Despite your angered words, you’re suppressing panic deep in your chest. “She’s already taken so much from me and she’s going to take Diluc.”

“Diluc loves you,” Kaeya reassures you. You’ve never heard his voice this soft and serious before. “Nothing Lumine can do is going to make Diluc ever stop loving you.”

Deep down, you knew that. You knew that Diluc loved you and planned to marry you one day, you knew that. It was just hard to convince your heart of that. As you stared down at the floor, you heard Kaeya sigh.

“Maybe you just need to show him you’re just as good at Lumine.”

That night, you packed a bag before Diluc got home from the tavern and left for Liyue. You would fight the Cryo Regisvine and bring back Diluc a hoarfrost core. He would see your heroic nature and forget all about Lumine - they all would.

***

When Diluc came home that night to find your absence, he began to worry. You were never one to leave without saying anything so Diluc rushed to the Knight’s Headquarters quickly. He was fortunate that Jean and Kaeya were still there finalizing some paperwork.

“Master Diluc?” Jean asked, rising from her desk as Diluc rushed inside her office. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N is missing,” He said quickly.

“Missing? Are you sure?”

“Yes! They never go anywhere without telling me,” Diluc continued. He noticed Kaeya avert his gaze and snapped his eyes over to his brother, “Kaeya, what do you know?”

“I may have told them to do something heroic to win you back,” Kaeya said, realizing his idea may not have been the best.

Diluc’s eyes widened, “Win me back?”

Kaeya sighed and explained what was going on with you. Diluc’s heart dropped into his stomach and he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He should have been praising you, not Lumine. “They mentioned something about the Cryo Regisvine-”

Diluc didn’t let Kaeya speak another word before he took off. You couldn’t have gotten that far and when Diluc noticed the darkening weather, his feet picked up their pace.

***

A fierce gust of wind made you cover your face with your arms. Out of nowhere, it started pouring rain but you wouldn’t let that stop you. You pushed through the impending storm and made your way down into the cave where the ice monster lived. You gripped your sword tightly as the monster sensed your presence and unraveled, turning the downcoming rain into shards of ice that landed on your skin like needles.

Without much delay, you charged the Cryo Regisvine and landed three hits on its corolla before one of its leafy arms wacked into you, sending you hurdling backwards. Your sword was knocked out of your hand and you struggled to catch your breath.

More sharp icicles pierced your skin and a spray of freezing air coated your skin. Yet, you still managed to grab your sword and stand. Your hobbled toward the monster again and when the same leafy arm came towards you, you slashed at it.

The monster let out a screech and retracted itself before slamming it’s head down towards your body. You dodged the first hit but were caught off guard when the second hit knocked you off your feet. You barely had time to roll away when it slammed it’s head down a third time.

“Y/N!”

Diluc surged forwards, grabbing your arm and forcefully pulling you to your feet. Your sword became lost from your hold and the sudden movement caused the blade to scrape down your leg before clambering to the ground again. A nasty gash was left and you seethed.

He couldn’t even think as he pulled you away from the monster. You had never seen Diluc move so fast. He didn’t let you go until you were both far enough from the cave to feel secure. Diluc’s arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly and you were too stunned to say anything.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Your mind felt foggy. You tried to open your mouth and speak but no words came out.

“Do you realize how dangerous that was?”

“I just...Lumine…”

Diluc pulled back at this and stared in your eyes. You couldn’t quite match the emotion on his face. “You’re not Lumine!”

His words cut deep and you felt tears soak your eyes. Maybe if your head was clearer and you could actually hear your thoughts, you would have realized Diluc didn’t mean it that way. But the only thing consuming your mind was that he was right. You weren’t Lumine and you would never be Lumine. “I know!” You cried out suddenly, “That’s why I have to go and kill that thing! So I can give you a hoarfrost core and you’ll love me again!”

Diluc only looked at you. His hands ran down from your shoulders to your hands and he brought your left hand to his lips. You heard him sigh before kissing your knuckle gently.

Your wet hair was dripping water down your face in freezing cold droplets. At that moment you felt useless. You weren’t able to fight the Cryo Regisvine and bring Diluc a hoarfrost core. He would leave you for Lumine and there was nothing you could do about it.

“You’re hurt,” Diluc said, motioning to your leg. In your desolate state, you had forgotten about the gaping wound on your leg that was pouring blood. “Come on - we’re going home.”

You were too upset to protest and let Diluc maneuver your body onto his back. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck and relished in the warmth his vision released. You held onto Diluc like it was the last time you ever would.

The walk back to Mondstadt was silent and when you two arrived at your shared house, Diluc let you down on the couch. You could only stare at your lap.

“I’m sorry,” You finally mumbled, “Next time I’ll finish what I started.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Diluc said sternly, “No way you’re ever going there alone again.”

Your face stiffened into annoyance. “I’m the Revolutionary Knight - I can do it.”

“No, you can’t.” His words seemed cold and unusual but they were coated in concern. Diluc reached up and cupped your face with his large hands. You tried to pull away but his grip was firm, “It’s okay.”

The situation was suddenly overwhelming and far too much to deal with. The tears you had been holding back tumbled down your cheeks and your words were choked between sobs, “Lumine is so perfect and I’m not...I don’t want you to leave me...I know I’m not good enough but-”

He stopped your rambling with a kiss. “Don’t ever think you’re not good enough,” He whispered, taking you into his arms. You hid your sobs in Diluc’s chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Eventually, your cries settled.

Diluc spent the rest of the night dressing your wound and laying with you in your bed. He didn’t stop comforting you until every horrible thought about yourself was gone from your mind. In the morning he would talk to you more but for now, his job was to make you feel strong again.

And it would take a while but one day you would come to realize that you were just as good as Lumine and no one could truly compare to you. Like the storm on that horrifying night, this too would pass.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin one shot #genshin impact oneshot #genshin self insert #genshin x you #diluc x you

724 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.��

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

2K notes · View notes

mr-and-mr-diaz · 3 years

Note

I just. I just thought about Eddie holding baby Jee-Yun? And singing to her while she clutches at his finger with her tiny meaty baby hand??

Maybe Buck freaked out a little because she was being fussy and wouldn't settle, and its probably nothing but hey, who better to call than Eddie, who conveniently has the day off and cuts off Buck's panicked rambling with a soothing;

"Its okay, Buck. Give me ten minutes, okay? You're doing great. She's probably just restless."

Eddie gets there and sends Buck off to cook dinner or shower or take a nap, scooping Jee-Yun out of her travel crib and making sure she's changed, warm, fed and content. And its been so long since Christopher was this tiny, but holding Jee-Yun makes him think back to that tiny, wriggly little bundle in his arms for the first time, back before it all went to shit.

Eddie pacing slowly around the lower loft, singing quietly, tickling her little chin, grinning when she giggles and gurgles at him. And he can see so much of Maddie and Chimney in her already. She's got Maddie's eyes and Chimney's lopsided grin.

(And for a little crack, maybe Buck catches this scene and is so overwhelmed he just blurts out; "put a baby in me!" And Eddie is like; "... What?" 👁👄👁 Which cues a hilariously awkward but heartfelt confession of feelings on both sides.)

Hey hey! So I like I told you I started this a while ago and then got SEVERE AND DEBILITATING writers block, and it sat waiting for new life. And then 5x03 happened, so Hello, new life! I hope you love it!

With You, My Life, I Will Get Married

Warning: mild spoilers for 9-1-1 season 5 episode 3.

Chimney was out searching for Maddie.

After shifts, on weekends, whenever he had a second, he was either spending time with Jee or out searching for her mom.

In times when he was on the search everyone at the 118 was making time to watch Jee Yun. Mrs. Lee was doing what she could, but couldn't always be available, and when that happened, Jee would spend some time at Bobby and Athena's or by Hen and Karen. And when they had too much going on, or when either of the uncles felt like they weren't getting enough time with their beautiful niece, she would spend time at her Uncle Buck's or Uncle Albert's.

Uncle Buck got lucky this time.

Eight hours in and everything had gone wrong. Buck shoulders were damp with spit-up, baby drool, and snot and all Jee seemed capable of doing was crying, crying, crying.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what I did wrong, and, and now--just, Jee, please, it's okay, I'm here--!"

She continued to yell and Buck got more and more panicked. "Your Uncle Albert's gonna be here in like 5 minutes, Jee, okay? And then, maybe, maybe he's better with you? And will make you happy, and then--Oh God, what have I done wrong--"

A knocking at the door sent him back on his feet, swaying toward the loft entrance. It opened before he could get there, however, and he stopped where he was, a furious Jee Yun screaming in his ears as Eddie Diaz, not Albert Han, walked in.

"You look like you're having fun." Eddie's eyebrow was raised and his mouth quirked in a teasing smile.

"Eddie...?" Buck's momentary shock was interrupted as Jee let out another wail. "Um, sorry, this isn't the best time at the moment, but Albert--"

"--has a date tonight and sent me as his relief." Eddie reached out and plucked Jee Yun from Buck's arms. "And you have a date with your shower and a few hours' sleep."

"I--no, it's okay, I know you just got off shift--"

"Buck." Eddie shifted Jee to one arm, and the other rested on Buck's chest, over his pattering heartbeat. He met Buck's eyes, his own calm despite the bundle of adorable chaos still screaming bloody murder into his shoulder. "Go shower."

"...Yeah, okay."

***

She truly was one of the cutest babies, even when she was liable to wake up the neighborhood with her noise, Eddie thought with a smile as he re-seated her over one shoulder and began to firmly but gently tap her back.

"Your Tio Eddie is going to assume this is a gas issue, okay, chiquita? Christopher used to have this all the time, and he would scream and cry." Eddie huffed ruefully. "I was useless at it then, but Shannon showed me what to do." He kept tapping at her back. "Good set of lungs means a healthy baby, good job, Jee. Now, let's see if we can't get this gas out of you so you can calm down and you and your Tio Buck can get some sleep, okay?"

Eddie started circling the room, the sun beginning to set as he heard he shower turn on.

"There you go, see? Your Buck is going to get all showered since you drooled all over him, and then you both can get some sleep, how's that sound?"

He was answered with a burp far louder than Jee's small body should be capable of making. Then a sweet gurgling sound as she nestled her chin into his shoulder.

"There, feel better, mi princesa?" Eddie whispered against her soft, downy hair. "When I was small and got upset, and my parents got annoyed with my sulking, they'd send me to Abuela. And she would sit me down on her lap, just like this," he sat down on Buck's couch, and settled Jee Yun against his broad chest, rubbing her small back with a large warm hand. "And she would hug me until I forgot what I was so upset about. All I could think about was the smell of her perfume and how much I wanted to be like her one day.

"Then Pepa would come out and yell at both of us that it's about damn time we came into the house, dinner doesn't make itself." Eddie laughed at the memory. Jee made a small discontented noise and Eddie stood up again, walking toward the kitchen, where he saw the half-formed works of bottle making on the counter. "Shhh, princesa, Tio Eddie's gonna make you a bottle." With Jee over his shoulder, sounding more and more on the edge of hunger-panic, Eddie quickly assembled a bottle then leaned back against the kitchen island and cradled Jee Yun in his arms, pressing the nipple to her mouth, which she accepted gratefully.

"Better, yeah? Where was I...? Oh." Eddie smiled. "Once we were inside, Pepa, Abuela and I would make arroz con leche. Abuella would wash the rice, Pepa would be tutting the whole time about too much sugar, but she would always wink at me and add just a bit more before the cinnamon." Eddie couldn't help the smile that stole over his face as he remembered Abuela's warm kitchen in her El Paso ranch house before she and Pepa relocated to LA. In winter, the windows would fog over from the heat of whatever was on the stove. When she left, a lot of Eddie's heart left with her.

"They used to sing me the song too, you know?" Jee gurgled around her dinner and Eddie smiled again. "Well, I wasn't planning to sing it, but you drive a hard bargain." Eddie's poked Jee's soft cheek with a finger and began to sing.

Arroz con leche se quiere casar con una viudita de la capital, que sepa tejer, que sepa bordar, que ponga la aguja en su campanal.

(English translation: Rice with milk (rice pudding) Wishes to get married With a little widow from the capital. Who knows how to weave (or knit), Who knows how to embroider, Who puts the church steeple in the bell tower.)

***

Eddie was no American Idol contestant, but his voice was soothing and good. Strong. Listening to him sing from his seat on the stairs, Buck almost felt like he was where Jee currently snuggled, right against Eddie's chest, as his bass voice sung the gentle Spanish lyrics, harmonized by the occasional happy noise from Jee Yun.

Yo soy la viudita la hija del rey. Me quiero casar y no sé con quien. Contigo sí, contigo no, Contigo mi vida me casaré yo.

(English translation: I am the widow The daughter of the king, I want to get married and I don’t know with whom. With you, yes. With you, no. With you, my life, I will get married.)

Buck's head knocked lightly against the banister, body relaxing. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just the softest sweatpants he owned with a towel draped over his shoulders to catch water from the mess of wet curls on his head.

Eddie's so hard on himself all the time. I don't get it. He's such a good dad.

Dazedly, Buck's eyes fixed on Eddie's mouth as he repeated the verses again. Then Eddie sighed.

"Afterward Pepa would ask me who I want to marry and Abuela would laugh at me, and I'd always complain--" Jee gurgled again. "Like that, yes. But honestly, it was nice... Even though between you and me, Pepa can't sing very well at all." Eddie's lips quirked again in a smile. "Kind of like your Uncle Buck."

Buck startled at his name and looked up at Eddie's eyes. They twinkled back at him in the dying last light of the day, Eddie's golden skin lit by the last rays of the sun. Buck felt his face heat with a blush, knew there was nothing to do about it.

"Sorry, I should've--"

"Feel better after your shower?"

Buck sighed and smiled. "Yeah. World's better." He stood, stretching out his long legs as he descended the stairs. It was full dark now, but Buck didn't feel like turning on a light. "I can take her now."

"Nope." Eddie met him midway, hand on Buck's shoulder turning him around. "You're both getting some sleep now." One hand on Buck's shoulder, the other holding a drowsy Jee Yun, Eddie guided him back up the stairs, and pressed Buck down until he was sitting on his bed.

"Eddie, are you sure--"

"Shhh." Eddie deposited Jee into Buck's arms, then sat down behind him. "You can hold her for now." Eddie's hands skimmed up Buck's warm back then pulled the towel off Buck's shoulders, laying it on top of Buck's head, where a corner flopped over his eyes.

"Eddie?"

"Hold still, Buck."

Eddie's strong hands curled into the towel and Buck's hair, rubbing vigorously to get it dry. "Seriously, anyone who has ever seen your hair at work would marvel at how different it looks before you comb and gel all the life out of it." He rubbed vigorously, and Buck felt himself relaxing back against Eddie's chest. Tomorrow, he might look back at this and feel embarrassed. He might have to apologize. Tomorrow, he would go back to hiding how much he felt for the man who was drying his hair, still absent-mindedly humming the Arroz con leche tune under his breath. But for now, Eddie was too near and too warm and too... Eddie. And Buck found that he couldn't deny himself Eddie right now.

Buck cleared his throat and made himself focus on their conversation. "I used to wear my hair naturally, but people said it looked floppy. Made me look like a puppy."

"People are stupid sometimes, Buck. You know this." Eddie's thumb traced the shell of Buck's ear. "And if you think slicking back your hair makes you look less like a puppy, you really shouldn't be bothering." He snickered as Buck tried to shoulder his chest and Jee made a noise of complaint.

"So I just look like a puppy all the time, huh?"

The towel dropped. Eddie's arms came around, holding onto Buck and Jee Yun both. "I think you're a beautiful man, Buck."

The air in Buck's chest hiccupped out of his mouth. His heart picked up speed as the places where Eddie's hands rested on his stomach seemed to heat from within. "Y... Eddie?"

"Shhh. Sleep now. Jee's asleep, but who knows for how long." Eddie's voice was gruff, embarrassed. "I'll just--"

"Stay?" It came out too high, too soft. Buck cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, if it isn't any trouble, and--"

"I can stay." Eddie's arms tightened around Buck again and he pulled him backwards until Buck could lay out flat on his back, before pressing Buck's head down on his pillow. Then Eddie pulled Jee from Buck's arms and sat back against the headrest, legs folded together, Buck's niece cuddled again against his chest. "Sleep now."

"Okay." There was so much Buck wanted to know. To say. It all got stopped in his throat as fear tamped it all down to squirm in his chest.

"Eddie?" The word found its way out.

"Hm?"

"...Nothing."

A sigh. Then, "Come here."

Buck didn't hesitate, moving his head off the pillow and onto Eddie's lap. Eddie's spare hand found its way back into his curls and tugged lightly before stroking through them, gently, so gently.

"Sleep now."

"Okay. But," Buck's jaw cracked around a large yawn. "Before... you have to know..."

"Hm?"

"You are... so beautiful... Eddie Diaz."

Buck felt Eddie's hand tighten in his hair again, before releasing, fingers wandering down to trace his eyebrows, his nose, his lips.

"Sleep, querido."

As Buck's eyes slipped closed, and awareness almost dropped away, he swore he could feel lips press lightly right above his eye, on his birth mark.

"Contigo mi vida me casaré yo."

151 notes · View notes

mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Feeling like a family

Summary: Y/n visits Harry during his lunch break, letting him in on the relationship both her and Milo have with Xavier. Then they go to the zoo and have a little family day :)

warning/ disclaimers: swearing, family issues.

Things have been going amazing with Harry and Y/n. Ever since their date a couple weeks ago they have been seeing each other more and more. Harry has been coming into her bookshop while she’s working when he can. Just to surprise her and make her day a little better, sometimes he brings her lunch on the weekends and she visits him when he is spending hours after school hours grading art work and setting projects up for his students.

It’s been new and exciting, and extremely fun. Not to mention the kissing has definitely been a plus. They went to have coffee with each other a couple days after their date, spending a good portion of the morning together. They have basically been inseparable since, Harry even invited Y/n and Milo over for dinner so they could all get to know each other better. Loralie was just excited to have guests that weren't family, and also to see a friend from school outside of school. She had a great time with Milo, they played together while Harry and Y/n cleaned up dinner together and snuck kisses in the kitchen.

It's another Wednesday. Harry had Loralie and Milo's class now and he is letting them finger paint. It’s mainly been a calm class, he didn’t have to deal with much usually and if a kid did have a melt down the teacher and/or teachers assistant would deal with it instead of making Harry deal with it. “Looks great, Lora,” Harry says, kissing the top of Loralies head before scooting past her and walking over to his messy desk. He has papers, projects, markers, paints, all over his desk, even with all the time he spends after school he feels like he may never get it organized.

“My mummy likes your daddy.” He hears, looking up to see Milo and Loralie talking. His cheeks turn crimson when he hears it, did they really give it away that easy? Their children now caught onto the fact that the two were dating? That was just embarrassing. “My daddy likes your mummy.” But that was more embarrassing.

Harry ignores it (and the burning in his cheeks) and just hopes that the teacher will hush the class. He busies himself with cleaning his desk, trying to shove the papers into the drawers and file folders that they belong to but his mind is still distracted. He’s gonna have to tell Y/n that their kids know. The bell rings and he looks up from his desk. “Okay, you can leave your paintings where they are. I'll put them on the drying rack and you’ll get them tomorrow!” Harry sings, moving over to Loralie to kiss her cheeks and say a goodbye until he sees her at lunch time. “Bye daddy” she says, waving to him after kissing his cheek and joining her class.

Harry laughs, letting out a sigh and putting the messy finger paintings on one of his many drying racks. It’s his lunch time now. He has to supervise lunch so he gets his break before everyone else.

He wanders around his class room, doing random things and cleaning up his messes that he’s made from the two days of the week before him. He didn’t have plans for lunch, he would probably just have an extra big dinner. He’s happy to find Y/n cured his rumbling tummy when he sees her walking through his classroom. He smiles, chuckling at her big dramatic smile that was obvious teasing. “Hi, darling.” He says, leaning over his desk to press a kiss to her lips.

She sits on the art table in front of his desk, setting two to-go boxes down. “Hi,” she says back, handing him one of the to-go boxes. “No sitting on the tables.” Harry teases while he reaches out to take the white Styrofoam box in his hands, quickly thanking her. “Suck it up.” She shrugs, her feet setting in the chair that was once tucked under the art table. “I just got you a sub and fries.” She says, plucking a chip from her box and taking a bite out of it.

“Why Are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” He smiles, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. She shrugs, tapping her shoes down on the chair while she pulls her food into her lap. “I forgot to put Milo's' lunch box in his backpack so I had to drop it off.” She says, making Harry smile. So he thought she would have lunch with him? She’s adorable. “So how’s your week been, babe?” Harry sings, sitting back in his big office hair and relaxing into it while he eats.

“Fine. Milo's dad visited.” What?! Since when did he come around? And since when was he “Milo's dad” and not “Xavier”? Harry knits his brows, gulping down his food before he responds, a little nervous. Harry and Milo are best buds, they have grown closer and he’s tried to pay him more attention when he sees him in class as well, he doesn’t want their friendship to be ruined now, even though what he is thinking is selfish. Milo deserves a good daddy.

“Since when does he come around?” He asks, Y/n rolling her eyes at his tone. “He’s a photographer so he’s always traveling the world. I mean he pays child support, he’s not a shit dad. I just have my own issues with him.” She says, her tone heavy with annoyance. Harry was under the impression that he was a horrible dad and didn’t even try to care for Milo, but now he hears he pays child support and visits?

“I just thought he didn’t care.”

“Well… he’s trying. Like I said he’s traveling the world so he can’t always see him but he pays child support and he’s trying to come around more. He did come over and take some cute photos of Milo though.” Y/n smiles, remembering how her baby posed so well for the camera. He was shy at first but then they found a stray kitty out on a walk and he was more than willing to pose with it.

Harry nods, taking a bite out of his sub. He finishes his bite and wipes his mouth with the brown paper napkins, “Is he gonna take Milo for the night or something like that?” Harry questions. Y/n is happy that Xavier is trying to see him more but she doesn’t think she would be able to be away for a night, especially when he doesn’t see Milo that much anyways. “I don’t think I would be comfortable enough to let Milo stay with him, for now at least. But he’s flying off and leaving Friday so I don’t have to worry.” Y/n confesses, taking a bite of her sub while she waits for Harry’s response.

“Yeah, I understand that.”

They eat together before Y/n deems it time for her to go. Giving him a hug and a kiss goodbye before she heads out and opens the book shop back up, letting Harry finish out his day.

*********************************************

Harry and Y/n had made plans to take their little ones to the zoo. Y/n told Harry that Milo had been going on and on about lions so it was the perfect time for them to go. Harry has packed up Loralies stroller, putting snacks, his wallet, and her diaper bag in the bottom carrier. Luckily (but also unluckily) Milo is at the age where he does not want to be in a stroller, every time Y/n tries to put him in it while they are out he complains and tries to get out of it the whole time.

Harry had picked them up, driving about an hour to the zoo. Milo and Loralie babbled to each other the whole ride which made their parents happy- meanwhile they were just humming to the radio and making small talk the whole ride.

“Are you ready to see the lions?” Y/n coos to Milo, pulling him out of his car seat and setting him on the ground, holding his hand so he doesn’t run off in the car park. Harry pulls Loralie out, pulling out her stroller from the back, preparing to put her in it. “No! I walk today.” Loralie says with a bit of aggression in her voice. Harry hands with his hand up defensively, “okay, but you're gonna want it after walking in the heat for hours.” Harry takes her stroller despite her not wanting to be in it, she takes Harry's hand instead, walking next to Milo.

Their first stop is the stingrays, getting the food from the people who work there then getting down in front of the large pond to pet their slimy skin. Milo and Loralie giggle the whole time, pulling their hands away as soon as they feel like slimy stingray and making dramatic gross faces that make their parents laugh. The kids definitely had fun feeding them and petting them but Harry and Y/n instantly shipped them off to the bathroom so they could wash their hands.

Next is the walk through aquarium, “come on, it's this way.” Y/n says, cooing down at Milo and fast walking toward the cave shaped aquarium. When they walk inside it's lit up blue. They look all around them and they see lots of fish, big whales, all different things. “Woah!” Loralie exclaims, making Harry laugh, kissing her cheeks. All of a sudden Milo breaks out in loud giggles, pulling at the length of her mom jeans. “Mama, Look!” Milo giggles, pointing to a fish sticking to the aquarium glass, looking like it's making a silly face at everyone. Y/n laughs, squatting down and wrapping her arm around Milo, resting a hand on his belly. “Let's go see them” Y/n says, pulling him up on her hip and kissing over his cheeks. She takes him over to the silly fish while Harry lets Loralie look around, staring above her at the large fish swimming by until she stumbles back. Harry catches her, standing her back up and taking her over where Milo and Y/n are, showing her the fish that Milo was trying to touch through the glass.

“He's so cute.” Harry compliments, laughing at how Milo's is so obsessed with the silly looking fish. Y/n turns to look at Harry, thanking him cockily- taking all the credits for his adorableness. Harry bumps his nose with hers in a butterfly kiss while their kids are looking straight ahead. He gives her a peck while the kids are still distracted then he turns back to the fish. “Okay, it's time to go look at the animals!” Harry cheer, pulling Loralie off of the ledge she was standing on.

They walk through the entrance of all the animals, seeing some monkeys. Loralie and Milo start to imitate the monkeys, giggling at each other and the animals. They move onto koalas, waving at the cuddly animals before they get to see the lions- this is what Milo has been waiting for. “ROAR!” Milo yells, trying to climb on the wooden fence between the people and lions. Y/n giggles at him, pulling him off the fence and on her hip. “You’re a baby lion, aren’t you?” Y/n coos, kissing his forehead. Milo nods before she pulls him in her hands, extending him out. “Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!” She sings, making the boy giggle, roaring again before she pulls him back in, kissing all over his face, making him squeal and push away.

Meanwhile Loralie wants to pet the real baby lions. She’s got a frustrated face on since Harry didn’t let her climb over the fencing and pet the furry lions. Harry can’t help but laugh at her. They walk a bit more, walking for a while until they go to their next exhibit.

It’s all calm until Milo starts screaming. He sees a bird wandering free, it was a large blue bird with huge feathers framing its head. Y/n knew that the peacock was harmless, they wouldn't let it wander free if it was, but Milo was gonna be scared of it regardless. “No, no!” He yells, backing away from the bird, trying to scold it for just walking around. Y/n laughs while Milo grips onto her leg, wagging his finger at the bird and yelling at it for scaring him. “It’s not gonna get you, bubba.” She laughs, pulling him into her hip while they get to the penguin house.

They walk into the cold penguin house, their noses instantly crinkling from the smell. “Brrr” Loralie says, running her arms up and does while her teeth chatter. Harry laughs, tossing her little jacket over her shoulder to warm her up. “Look at the baby penguin.” Harry coos to Loralie, holding her up to the glass so she can wave at the little puffins. “Tiny!” She squeals, waving at the baby penguins.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs at her. “They are tiny, Lora.” He agrees with her, giving the back of her head a kiss before settling her back down on the ground, letting her wander off a few feet away to look around at the penguins a bit more before they leave and look at the polar bears.

After the polar bears, they head to the gift shop, Loralie gets a purple bucket hat with a blue monkey on it and a stuffed penguin she named “tiny”. Milo got a shirt of the name of the zoo and a matching stuffed penguin that he couldn’t choose a name for just yet.

They head back to the car, Loralie’s legs are tired on the walk but she refuses to go in her stroller, instead Harry holds her while they take the long walk back, one arm holding Loralie up to his hip and the other latched with Y/n’s hand while her other hand holds Milo's. Once they get to the car Loralie and Milo get buckled up in their car seats, sure to fall asleep soon.

Harry and Y/n get into the front seats, their hands instantly finding the others. “I had a nice day with you.” Harry smiles, his face only inches from hers. Y/n blushes, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun.” She says, focusing on Harry’s thumb rubbing at the back of her hand. They hear little whispers and giggles, turning their heads back to their little ones. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” They whisper- chant. Their parents' cheeks instantly burn, looking back to each other with big cheesy smiles on their faces.

“Well?” Harry shrugs, leaning in and pressing his lips to her. She giggles on his lips, both of the kids in the back yelling. “Ew!” Loralie says. “Gross!” Milo agrees.

The parents laugh, pressing one last peck to each other's lips before Harry starts up the car. They had a good day together. Harry got closer to Milo and Y/n got closer to Loralie. It kinda feels like they are becoming a little family.

Hii!! if you liked this please reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! please let me know if you would like to be on my tag list!! and please make sure you have read the first two parts :)

tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

239 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 3 years

Text

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

469 notes · View notes

ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fanfic #nessian au

238 notes · View notes

hopelesshunny · 3 years

Text

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley series #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp

365 notes · View notes

cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 3 years

Text

We Have A Pool?!

Summary: There’s a secret swimming pool at Hogwarts. Y/N discovered it purely on accident in her first year, and it has become her safe place, that is until a particular Weasley find it as well.

Warnings: SMUT! (fingering, vaginal, etc) SMUT WITH PLOT IN A POOL YALL (ok I heard pool sex can be not great for everyone, so maybe don’t try it unless your into that then go off) Swearing, no proof reading, an irrational amount of commas because the public school system failed me. The end

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: OK so IDK if there's canonically a pool at Hogwarts, I just heard it in a starkid play and was like “Hey, I like that” So I made it all up so if there is/isn’t actually a pool pls don’t come for me. Also HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you’re all happy and are making progress to becoming even happier.

Your elbows rested on the desk in front of you, your fingers rubbing circles into your temples as you tried to pay attention to the class in front of you. This past week had been stressful to say the least, you had three different essays, all needing to be at least four pages long, as well as a potions exam and a herbology quiz. To say you were excited for the weekend was an understatement.

And you knew just where you were going to spend it.

As soon as class was dismissed, you started packing your bag as quickly as possible, wanting to get to your room to finish your homework and change before going to your favorite spot for some much needed stress relief.

You practically ran out of the class, heading straight to the Gryffindor common room, but before you could get far, two tall bodies appeared at your left and right sides.

“Someone seems to be in a hurry” Fred said, looking to George who nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, where are we off to Y/N?” George asked.

“Oh, its a wonderful place, I don’t think you would have head of it. It’s called nun ya” You said, causing the boys to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Nun ya?” Fred asked

“Nun ya business” You joked, causing the older red to head to gasp in feign hurt, while George tried to stifle a laugh.

You and the twins had been friends since you were children, being next door neighbors and being the same age meant you spent a lot of time together, especially when your parents went on business trips and left you at the burrow. You had grown to become really close to them. However, over the past few years George and Angelina had started hanging out more, leaving you and Fred to get closer.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t have a giant crush on him.

“Wow, were your best friends in the world and you wont even tell us where you’re going. I’m hurt!” Fred cried, making you laugh a bit.

“I’m just going back to my room to do some homework. I’ll see you guys at dinner yeah?” You asked, turning to wave at the two boys, who stood in confused silence as they watched you walk away.

“Well, she’s hiding something” George said.

“Definitely” Fred agreed.

A few hours later, you had gotten dinner, finished your homework, and were currently laying in bed, waiting for Angelina and Katie to fall asleep. After a while, their breathing evened out, and you quietly got out of bed, putting your pillow under the covers to make it look like you were still sleeping there just in case one of them woke up.

You tip toed out of the room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible before making your way down the steps, and out of the common room. Once you were a bit farther away, you cast lumos to navigate better through the hallway. You took a right, then a left, then another left, before finally finding your way to the empty arythmancy classroom.

You made your way to the bookcase on the far left side of the room, running your finger along the spines before landing on a familiar blue cover labeled The Geometry of Liquids. You pulled the book back until you heard a click, pushing the bookcase forward which easily swung open to reveal a hallway.

You couldn’t help but smile as the smell of salt water filled your nose, quickly stepping behind the book case before closing it behind you. As you walked further down the hallway, you began to see a blue light, finally turning the last corner, you found yourself in an abandoned dungeon, with a large pool in the middle of it.

You had accidentally stumbled across this room in your fourth year. You were bored, all of your friends either at Hogsmeade or detention Fred and George, and had found the abandoned classroom. You started going through the books, and the rest is history. You had been coming here at least once a week ever since.

You muttered the spell to stop the light coming from your wand, the pool somehow giving off its own soft blue light, before removing your shirt and sleep shorts, exposing the green bikini you had put on earlier.

Walking closer to the edge, you took a few running steps before plugging your nose and jumping off the pool wall, landing in the water below.

You sat there for a moment, allowing the cool feeling to sink deeper into your body. You had gotten a lot better at holding your breath over the years, still eventually you had to come back to the surface for air, which you did. You wiped the water off your face, opening your eyes to find a pair of dark brown ones looking back.

“Fred!” You screamed, surprised by his sudden presence. He stood at the edge of the water in a pair of jersey shorts and a t-shirt, his jaw on the floor as he looked at you, then to the rest of the room.

“What are you... who’d you get here?” You continued, his silence making you a bit nervous.

“We have a pool?” He asked looking back to you, causing you to nod.

“Yeah...” You said, feeling a bit guilty for not telling him before.

You had planned on telling him, along with the rest of your friends, but you were worried that word would get around and it would become a new party spot, which meant it would only be a matter of time before a teacher found it and blocked it off.

“How long have you known this was here?” Fred asked.

You sighed, swimming to the side wall and pulling yourself out, ringing out your hair before crossing your arms in front of you.

“A while” You mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed.

“And you didn’t tell us because...” He started, wanting an explanation.

“I didn’t want everyone to find out, because then the teachers would find out-”

“And then nobody would be able to use it” Fred finished, causing you to nod, still refusing to meet his eyes, your own question suddenly popping into your mind.

“Wait, how did you find it?” You asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze, your heart beating a bit faster at the eye contact.

Now it was Fred’s turn to look guilty. “I followed you”

“You fo- why!” You shouted

“I’m sorry! It’s just, you were upset earlier and you seemed really excited about something, and then I saw you walking around and I don’t know I just followed you.” Fred blurted out, looking at you with a nervous expression.

“Ok fine, I’m not mad at you if you’re not mad at me” You tried to reason, wanting a truce.

“Deal” He said smiling, holding out his hand for you to shake, which you did. Unfortunately this made it so you didn’t see his other hand quickly come around to connect with your shoulder, pushing you back into the pool.

You quickly got your bearings, kicking back to the surface to find Fred keeled over with laughter.

“You dick!” You shouted, which only made him laugh harder. You began laughing as well, before ducking under the water to move your hair away from your face, popping back up to see Fred walking over to where your clothes and wand were laying.

“What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously, you eyes widening as his hands went to the hem of his shirt.

“Getting in, duh” Fred stated, before pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his toned chest, making your face heat up in the process.

Before you could say anything, Fred was running towards the pool at full speed before jumping into a cannon ball and landing right next to you, sending buckets of water flying into your face.

Your mouth fell open in shock, watching as Fred came back up to the surface, laughing once he saw your expression.

“Oh nuh uh” You grumbled, shooting out your hands to send water flying back at Fred, abruptly cutting off his laughter.

“Oh really?” he asked mockingly, sending a wave of water back at you, only for you to return a wave as well.

Soon enough, water was flying in all directions as you each tried to splash each other as fast as you could, the sound of both of your laughs echoing off the walls.

You were splashing as fast as you could, looking away to avoid getting hit in the face as you aimed blindly, only stopping when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your middle and spin you around.

“Got cha!” Fred yelled, your arms landing around his neck to stabilize yourself as you shouted in surprise.

Fred stopped spinning, allowing the both of you to calm down and catch your breath, which made your heartbeat pick up at the realization of the position you were in. Your bodies pressed together as his arms remained around your waist, and yours around his neck.

You pulled back a bit to look at him, meeting his gaze before his eyes wandered down to your mouth, yours doing the same before he finally pulled you closer, and connected his lips to yours.

You responded instantly, moving your lips with his as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His arms moved downwards to hold you by your ass as he walked you over to the side of the pool, pressing you up against the wall.

He tugged at your bottom lip, making you moan into the kiss and allow his tongue to explore your mouth. You moved a hand up to his hair, weaving your fingers through the wet, fiery strands, and deepening the kiss even further. His hard length pressed against you, and your hands began traveling down his chest.

He suddenly pulled away making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, a soft look in his eyes.

You nodded.

Fred moved his lips to just below your ear, hovering just over the skin. “I need to hear you princess”

“Please, I need you Freddie” You whined, gasping as his lips came in contact with your neck.

He continued his attack on your neck as his hand moved in between you, dipping into your bikini bottoms before sliding his fingers through your folds. Your breath hitched as he slid two fingers into you, slowly pumping them in an out as his thumb drew circled over your clit, the coil in your stomach tightening as he began to speed up.

“Fred, I need you inside of me” You sighed, whining as he removed his fingers. His hands moved to lower his shorts a bit letting his cock spring free, moving your bikini bottoms to the side before gliding through your folds.

"You ready?” He asked, causing you to nod. “With your words princess”

“Please Fred just fuck me” You practically begged, before moaning as he slowly filled you up, his size stretching you out slightly.

He waited a moment, allowing you to adjust before you finally nodded, allowing him to move. He slowly pulled out half way, before thrusting back into you, repeating the action and picking up speed with each thrust.

You bit your lip to try and suppress your moans, but Fred wasn’t having any of it.

“None of that princess” He said, stopping his movements and making you whine “I want to hear you screaming my name when you come, got it?” He asked, still refusing to move.

“Ok fine, please just move-ah!” You gasped loudly as he started thrusting into you, much faster than before.

Water sloshed around you as he pounded into you, your back scratching against to tile with each thrust but you didn’t care. His cock hit that one spot perfectly with each stroke, tightening the coil in your stomach more and more.

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well” Fred breathed into your ear, causing you to let out a soft moan. “I can’t hear you princess”

His hand slipped in between your bodies, beginning to rub fast circles around your bungle of nerves, causing the coil in your stomach to finally snap, sending you over the edge, while screaming Fred's name over and over again.

Fred continued to thrust into you, riding you through your orgasm, his thrusts eventually becoming sloppy before he stilled inside of you, painting your walls as he came.

You sat like that for a moment, catching your breath as you came down from your high. Fred pressed his lips to yours as he slowly pulled out, causing you to sigh at the empty feeling before moving both of your bottoms to their original place.

A wave of insecurity suddenly washed over you. Was this a one time thing? Was he still mad that I hid this from him? Does he want to just be friends with benefits? does he-

“Hey, what’s happening” Fred asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, a curious expression on his face.

“Um...” You started, setting yourself up for the possibility of rejection. “Was this a one time thing? Because, if it is I don’t want to-”

Fred cut you off by gently grabbing your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours, silencing all the insecure thoughts running through your mind.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you since fourth year, I really hope this isn’t a one time thing” He said, making you smile.

“Since fourth year?” You asked, causing his face to blush a bit.

“Well, yeah” He replied sheepishly.

“Well, I’ve liked you since third year, so I guess I like you more” You joked, causing him to let out a gasp.

“Not possible, I like you way more than you like me” He argued, to which you shook your head.

“Nope, I win, hands down” You responded, folding your arms matter of factely.

“How about, we go shower off, and I show you how much I like you?” Fred asked, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Challenge accepted” You replied, all the while you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

__________________________________________________

A/N: UMMMM ok??? Pool sex. With Fred Weasley??? Am I obsessed with this concept? Yes. Is it healthy, probably not but its not hurting anyone so I’m a keep doing it. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, feel free to leave any suggestions or feedback. I love you all! ALSO IF YOU KNOW OF ANY FRED POOL SMUT PLEASE TAG ME OMG

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley in a pool yall #i will be passing away #fred weasley smut #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine

581 notes · View notes

cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

angst to fluff where y/n finds out she was originally just supposed to be a rebound type thing after he broke up with someone like idk something like he broke up with someone on the european leg of tour and she was supposed just be with him until he went on another leg but then he started to love her and brings her on the rest of tour with him and she finds out abt the rebound thing after the last show of tour where everyones drunk and celebrating and one person lets it slip

I tweaked it just a bit...hope that's ok:)

WC: 3.5K

****

“You look beautiful.”

I skim my nose across Harry’s cheek, his chin resting on my shoulder, and hum against stubble that wasn’t there this morning. “You’ve said that five times tonight.”

“And?” He slips around to face me.

His suit is a deep maroon, probably black if you’re far away, probably purple if you’ve had too much champagne. His chest expands when I slide my hand down.

“Love this dress.” He takes my hand off and pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my head.

“You two forget where you’re at?” Another foreign voice surrounds us, well, foreign to me.

“Fucker,” Harry says to the man. They pat each other’s backs as the guy walks away. “Tyler Johnson.”

“Oh.”

“He worked with me on the last album.”

“Okay.”

It’s like the fifteenth person that I’ve been introduced to tonight, all of whom pass by with quick hellos, inside jokes with Harry, and little interest in me. The fast paced world of the rich and famous doesn’t slow down, even for charity.

“Harry, so glad you could make it.” Another voice, another man. This one lingers, long enough to receive my name, and offer a cliche compliment about my patience to put up with this beautiful bastard on my arm.

I thank him with the smile I’ve learned to speak through. These celebrities never stop smiling. Never stop posing. Never stop.

Then he’s gone too, and Harry’s whispering yet another name in my ear, of which I’ll forget seconds later because these people ultimately mean nothing to me. They all seem to pass through each other’s lives whenever convenience allows, playing house and acting like grown ups who get the privilege of not truly growing up.

I feel like the Gucci dress Harry had tailored to my body doesn’t fit. My posture sucks. I’m too scared to eat any of the finger foods being carried on silver platters through the hall. I haven’t learned how to smile through food I don’t like or not make a mess or take small enough bites. I swear, not one glass of champagne has any lipstick on it. They’re like magic.

I look at Harry. He’s stepped away to converse with a face that I do know. He and Jeff speak animatedly, Harry’s arms gesturing to whatever story he’s telling. I step over to one of the dressed tables and place what little weight I can onto the chair, needing to cling to something. When I look back up I smile, the two of them now laughing, and probably a little too loud for this charity auction.

“Y/n...right?”

I whip around, a man I’ve seen in pictures on Harry’s phone holds out his hand.

I straighten my back and accept his greeting. “Yes.”

“Finally we meet!” He catches my confusion and chuckles. “I produced Harry’s last album.”

Something clicks in my head, and he’s suddenly more familiar. “Oh! I knew that.”

Tom Hull...Kid Harpoon I process just as he introduces his name.

“I—”

An arm slipping around my waist stunts my question, Harry tipping back a red drink with his free hand while the other squeezes my hip. “Just tell this one to leave you alone,” he jabs.

Tom rolls his eyes, patting the breast of his green suit to look for something, only to show off his middle finger.

“Can’t believe the two of you haven’t met,” Harry says.

“I know, I guess we just missed each other.” Tom nods to me. “Heard you went to quite a few shows.”

“As many as I could.”

An uneasy sting travels down my spine. I did go to many shows, practically following Harry around his entire tour...all on his dime. Lord knows the man can afford it, but I still felt weird about him dishing out thousands of dollars to add me to each plane ride.

“Well I’m happy to see you two kids together,” Tom jokes, patting Harry on his back. “I’ve told him he needs to date women who will fuck him up. That’s where the songs are.”

He saunters off like he did not just say that. No. Absolutely not.

My face burns and it hurts to turn my head, but I still manage to narrow my eyes at Harry.

“Do you want another drink?”

I wait. I give him more than enough seconds to explain what the hell that was. But he’s clueless—ignorant.

“No. I do not.”

***

I do not bother taking my heels off in the car. My plan is to storm into our hotel room the second we park. Possibly locking Harry out...haven’t decided on that part yet.

The vague chit chat he makes with the driver stirs my nerves. It shouldn’t make me angry, and it’s not so much the act as it is his demeanor. He’s too cheery right now and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay,” he grabs my attention from Los Angeles flying past my window, the partition rolling up to leave us completely alone in the back seat. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my tongue, literally. “Nothing.”

“You seemed...irritated.”

“Did I?”

“Y/n.”

I turn to face him, inhaling sharply to calm my coming words. “Why are you with me?”

His face pales, and not a muscle moves. He just stares at me until he finally blinks and starts jerking his jaw around. “What are you talkin’ about?”

I roll my eyes. “The fact that you don’t know, bothers me even more.” I sigh, fighting back tears because I am determined not to cry in front of him. “Tom said that you should date people that fuck you up.”

“O—oh. That’s all?”

I squint, curling my lip. “What do you mean, that’s all? Is that not enough for you? Because that was a lot for me to hear tonight.”

“Baby, he was just messing around.”

I don’t budge.

“Really, it’s nothin’ to think about.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. “Promise. It’s just like when people told you that you could do better than me, or insult me to compliment you.” He shrugs. “It’s just party talk.”

I process his words, supposing he’s not wrong. He did receive quite a few insults in lieu of my praise tonight. Maybe I was just on edge because of the setting; being surrounded by the rich and famous while I struggle to pay my rent each month isn’t exactly grounds for positive thinking.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He leans over to kiss me, stroking my face as his lips skim over mine. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

***

It’s funny how your brain works. How emotions swoop in and corral your thoughts, like a salesman who pretends to care about you so they can get what they want. My mind was desperate for relief, from hearing Tom’s nervy comment, and I naively allowed Harry to take what he needed in that moment.

Something’s not quite right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.

I’ve been mulling over Harry’s words in my head all weekend, playing them on repeat, hoping they’ll start to make sense, but if anything their value keeps dropping. What worries me the most, is that I don’t know whether he’s trying to protect me or himself. I don’t know if one is any better than the other.

It’s golden hour when we pull up to the beach. I can hear the music before I even open the car door; a volleyball shoots up over the rows of bushes hiding the party, disappearing and popping back up a moment later.

I don’t really want to be here, but I also don’t want to be the girlfriend who won’t support their boyfriend.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and I nod.

The closer we walk, the clearer the music becomes. Harry’s voice takes over the private beach, and I wonder if they’re playing his entire album or just Golden on repeat.

A good bit of the people drinking and chatting I recognize form the event the other night, but there are still plenty of new faces. I take some fruity drink that was offered to me and down half of it before my feet hit sand.

And so the routine continues. I’m introduced to someone, they compliment me, laugh with Harry, congratulate him on pretty much everything he’s ever done, and then repeat with a new face. I do manage to find Sarah at one point after I’ve detached myself from Harry, and the two of us head for the water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sarah asks once our toes are wet.

I hold my breath and count to five, finishing whatever the hell I’m drinking before I can answer her. “I’m great.”

“Harry said you weren’t doing too well after the auction?”

“Yes, Harry does a lot of talking with people when I’m not around.”

“Alright, spill it,” Sarah says.

I trace the rim of my glass, flicking my eyes over my shoulder to make sure we’re far away from the party. “It’s stupid, really, I’m just a little...I don’t know...Tom said something the other night that rubbed me the wrong way. And Harry doesn’t seem to care.”

“What did he say?”

“Just something about how Harry needs to have relationships with people who will fuck him up.”

“Ooh,” she nods, seemingly well versed in the statement. “Yeah that’s an Iggy Pop quote. Tom mentioned it in Rolling Stone when he was interviewed.” She sips her drink, eyes growing small over the rim. “It was just a cheap line of advice he gave Harry after he was torn up after his last breakup.”

“Wait, so he actually did say that before? Like before the other night?”

Sarah drifts her eyes up in thought, nodding. “Um hm. After him and Camille broke things off.” She shrugs, and gestures to the party exploding on the beach behind us. “Fine Line.”

I have no idea what I’m feeling. No clue what is coursing through my veins, but it’s not blood anymore. The corners of my jaw tingle until my face starts going numb, my breathing shallow and chest tight.

“You okay?”

“I uh, I gotta go.”

Sarah calls after me but I let my name die in the breeze as I march back to the crowd. It’s nearly dark now, and finding Harry among all his people will take forever. I try to look for him, but I’m so distraught I can’t concentrate long enough to make out faces. I give up and head back to his car, only to find it’s locked. The asphalt is warm on my legs as I lower down to the ground, careless to the dirt I’m getting on my clothes and the scratches on my skin.

I’m not in this position for long. Not long enough, at least. Harry rounds the corner of the bushes, speeding up when he sees me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moves to sit down beside me, but I jump up before he can.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Whoa! What!? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“I told you! What Tom said the other night!” I’m yelling, too loud for public, I know. But a small part of me wants someone to hear. I want to disrupt the bubble Harry lives in.

“And I told you that it was just nonsense.”

“And that’s why you’re a liar! Sarah just told me, that he said that to you after you and Camille broke up.”

“Okay...and?”

I inhale as deep as I can. It makes me dizzy, adds to my headache. “And, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? With the knowledge that the only reason you’re even with me, is because I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’ll get songs out of it?

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you’re taking this waaay too literally. Trust me.”

“You’re not in a position right now where I even want to trust you.”

“This has gotten completely out of control. I cannot believe you’re this upset over something so stupid.”

“Right there, Harry!” I point at him. “You keep dismissing how I feel! You don’t even care that this upsets me! That I feel like I need to reevaluate our entire relationship!”

“What is there to evaluate!? I haven’t even done anything! You’re blowing up about something that someone else said!”

“But you listened to him!”

“What,” he shrugs, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harry. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” He pauses, swallowing. “Us?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, us. I can’t be with you if—if you’re just waiting around for me to ruin you emotionally.”

“You’re seriously gonna let someone else’s words do this to us? You’d break up with me because of something another person said?”

“Harry, if I break up with you it’s gonna be because of what you’ve done. I don’t care that he said it, I care that you agree to it. And quite frankly, it’s pretty insulting to Camille. You spent a part of your life with that girl, and you just capitalize off of it. I’m not gonna let you do that to me.”

“I’m not capitalizing off of anyone! What the hell am I supposed to write my songs about? I’m just supposed to not date then?”

“It’s the fact that you sought out a relationship in order to fuel your writing.”

“No, y/n, that’s not what I did.” He narrows his eyes at me, and even in the dark I can see his anger. “I sought you out because I was devastated after me and her broke up. You were only supposed to be a rebound.”

I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. The music overhead blurs into noise scraping my eardrum, my vision grows weak and foggy. He wanted to hurt me, and he did.

“I expect a thank you when you release your next album.” I spin on my heel and head towards the main road, yanking my phone from my pocket to call an uber. For the second time tonight, my name trails behind me in the wind. I can hear Harry’s steps pick up, and as fast as I walk, he still catches me.

“Y/n, please, let’s go back to the hotel. You can hate me and not talk to me, but please don’t leave.”

I ignore him, trying to set up my ride. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances at my phone, and I can tell he considers keeping the answer to himself, so he can keep me to himself. He drops his voice, much weaker than before. “Carbon Beach. Canyon road.”

Ten minutes.

“Y/n—”

“I am not interested in discussing this with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I—I was mad and was just trying to win the argument. Whichever way I could.”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Y/n, please, honey. I don’t want to lose you.” He drags his hands down his face, keeping his palms dug into his eyes. When he lets them drop, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t, but yes you were a rebound for me, but that went away. Literally weeks after we started dating. I care about you so much. I wouldn’t drag you to every show and event I have if I didn’t. I’m so proud to call you mine. The last thing you are to me is—is just grounds for my writing.”

I stare out across the road. A jeep speeds by and the gush of wind it brings sends chills down my arms.

“Harry, I just...it’s a lot. You’re a lot. Your life is a lot.” I sigh and slowly turn to face him. “It feels like the significance of us being in each other’s lives are so different.”

He kicks a rock across the road, dust flying up around us. “Fuck. Y/n I’m begging—”

“They’re here.” I nod to the headlights approaching us.

“Baby, please.”

“I think I need to be alone right now.” I get in the backseat. “Enjoy your party.”

***

I text him when I’m back at the hotel, having nowhere else to go. I didn’t think my plan of leaving through, because he’ll come back here before the night’s over. But I’m hoping he’ll stay away for a bit, long enough for me to process everything at least.

Deep down I know there’s not as much to the comment as I thought. And Harry’s not that type of guy. But the lack of concern over my feelings...the fact that I was just used as a warm body while he got over Camille...that’s what hurts the most.

There’s a fine line between being sorry because you’ve been called out, and truly being sorry. How sorry can he be when he got what he wanted? Even if I’m not what he envisioned past a few quick fucks, he still comes out on top happy.

I feel like the lifestyle these people live is embedded with secret codes, all of which I’m not wired to pick up on. The money, the mistakes, the adoration... Everything is a lot, and playing catch up is nearly impossible.

I don’t get the alone time I’d wished for. There are curses and clicks of the doorknob right before Harry comes in. He stands at the entrance, staring at me on the lounge chair like he’s unsure if I’m real.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back here.”

“Where else can I go?” I nod to his phone in his hand. “I texted you.”

“I was driving.”

I sigh, flinching when he turns the lights on. “I know you wanna talk, but I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, dropping his keys on a table to come sit beside me. “I’ll talk though.” He inhales, holding his breath for a second before forcing the air out. “I know that me saying I’m sorry means shit to you right now. And to be honest, it probably is coming from me...in a way. You’re right about everything. And whatever you’re feeling, once you figure that out, you’re valid about that too.”

“How would you feel if you were only meant to be temporary in my life? You never mentioned why you were interested in me in the beginning. And no, I never would have gone out with you had I known. I would never want to be someone’s rebound. There’s just something sneaky about that.”

His head drops into his hands, and his shoulders shake right before I hear him cry. “I know, I—I get so caught up in myself sometimes. I’m such a fucking prick.” When he looks up, his eyes are burnt red, glassy and defeated. “I don’t deserve you, and I really don’t deserve anyone.”

“Harry,” I chastise, not expecting the downward spiral he’s ventured onto.

“I swear I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I don’t want to be the one to treat you this way. Ever.”

I inhale as deep as I can, holding my breath until it hurts. “I know.” I take his hand in mine. “And I know your heart, and I know you care about me. I—” I sigh, “I’m not comfortable with...just forgetting all of this though. I can forgive you, but I think we need to take a couple steps back. I’ve gotten so swept up in your life and your world, I’m losing my own.”

He nods slowly, accepting my words with a pained face.

“I care about you too.”

He looks up for the first time, catching the last few tears with the back of his hand. “I know you do.”

I offer a small smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes fall closed, and blindly he turns to press his lips to mine. Our kiss is salty and urgent.

“What did you say to everyone when you left?”

He frowns in thought, like the memory is too far away. “Nothing. Jumped in my car and prayed this is where you’d be.”

I take his hand and pull us both to our feet. “We should go to bed. It’s been a long night. Too long.”

We’re quiet and slow as we shed our clothes and brush our teeth, slipping into bed around two a.m.. Harry doesn’t waste a second in pulling me into his warm chest, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug that has me burying my face into his neck.

We lay there, silent, but when I know I don’t have much longer before sleep overcomes me, I kiss his shoulder, whispering how much I love him before I close my eyes.

#ehhhhh #idk #i think i'm ok with writing angst #but struggle with turning it into fluff #i tried tho #requests #requested #harry styles #harry styles writing #cherryyharryy #cherryyharryy writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles ou

215 notes · View notes