#they're just trying to stay safe and warm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupid-styles · 6 days

Text

call it fate, call it karma (olderry x alt!y/n)

in which harry's getting an unfortunate tattoo covered up at the shop y/n works at, they're 12 years apart, and they have big, fat crushes on each other. also, harry hates frappuccinos.

word count: 10.1k

content warnings: age gap (12 years), harry's kind of an idiot at first, angst (all is solved in the end), smut (daddy kink, p in v penetration, fingering, dirty talk, choking, slight size kink, crying)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

When Harry was 29, he made a mistake.

Well, maybe not a mistake. Perhaps… a series of poorly thought out decisions.

It started out when he met May. They were seniors in college and for years, Harry swore it was love at first sight — and with the enthusiasm and dopey, loved up grin he had when he told the story of how they met, May believed him for a long time. It always started the same: He didn’t want to go out that night but his friends begged him, telling him it was his last year in college to party before they went into the real world at full force. Finally, they wore him down enough to the point where Harry agreed, except he felt no desire to drink or smoke once they got to whoever’s house was throwing the get-together. He sat on the couch all night, nursing a warm beer from a plastic red solo cup, waiting for his buddies to decide when they’d had enough so Harry could ensure they got home safe — and then, May Wilkins walked in.

Harry always claimed that it seemed like the weed and cigarette smoke parted the second she entered the room, though he promised to revise the story when they told their future children. As soon as he laid eyes on the clean-cut brunette girl, he insisted that May would be his.

And, by the end of the night, May was his.

In fact, May continued to be his until he was 32 years old.

For the first few years, it was heaven. People doubted them — they said it was stupid to get into such a serious relationship when graduation was looming, just a few months away, but it only fueled them further. After they received their degrees, they moved in together. The following year, Harry proposed. By 25, they were married.

Within a year of marriage, the fighting started.

It seemed that they had a problem with everything the other did — if Harry stayed late at work, May was angry and accusing him of cheating on her. If May went out for a girls night with some friends, Harry was calling her at 1 a.m., demanding to know where she was. They didn’t trust one another, and the insecurities ate at them; first slowly, and then all-consumingly. Eventually, May couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Harry. He started getting tattoos and she hated every single one. Every time he came home with a new one, she rolled her eyes and asked why he couldn’t put that money towards their savings, so they could buy a house in the suburbs like they’d planned to five years prior.

Harry wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet, though. After that, they tried couples counseling. When that ended in a screaming match, they decided to try sleeping in separate beds to put some space between one another. That worked for about three days before May got wine drunk one evening and crawled into his new bed that he purchased for the guest room. By the end of the week, they were back to sharing a mattress again.

And, believe it or not, it’s only then that he made his big mistake.

He thought maybe May despised his tattoos so much because he had so many for other people — his sister, his mum, his godchildren. Maybe if he got her name inked on his skin, she would see how much he really did love her, despite all the arguing and fighting.

Except, when he walked through the door to show her that evening, she was so angry that she stayed at her friend’s house that night.

A week later, May filed for a divorce.

He was exhausted. He wasn’t sure how they got there, but he knew it was time. There was nothing they could do to save their marriage.

The divorce was settled relatively quickly. Neither of them had much more fight left in them. They split all their assets down the middle and since they didn’t own a house together, Harry offered to move out of their shared apartment and let May live there until the lease was up. She didn’t, though. She broke their lease four months early with a mumbled explanation of not wanting to live there anymore.

When it was officially over, Harry’s friends took him out to celebrate. An evening of debauchery filled with enough alcohol and drugs to keep Harry satiated for the next decade.

But that’s when he realized that the hard part was just beginning.

Divorced life in your early 30s wasn’t easy. He threw himself into his job, but he felt lonely and empty without May by his side. It wasn’t even because he loved her anymore — he’d just spent so many formative years with her that he didn’t know who he was without her.

For five years, Harry focused on himself. He worked hard, he bought a house, he spent time with his family. He made himself the best son, brother, friend, uncle, and godfather he could be. And at 37, he was mildly content with that — he owned a beautiful home and was at the top of his company. Dating was so far down on his list of priorities that he didn’t even know how people met anymore. His friends encouraged him to join “the apps”, offering to help create a profile for him, but the only girls he dated had been from his years in school. He could admit that he was a little lonely, but the thought of starting over with someone completely new was intimidating and scary. Plus, there was one very big reminder of his past still inked on his arm.

So, that’s when he came up with his plan: He would cover up his tattoo of May’s name. He’d never gotten a coverup tattoo before but based on his research, they weren’t easy to do. It could take multiple sessions, which he was more than okay with — because, when her name was finally banished from his skin, he would officially throw himself back into the dating pool and try to find someone new.

A month later, he was walking into Jaded Tattoos for his first session.

. . .

Tuesdays are Y/N’s least favorite days.

When she comes into work on Monday, she at least has some sort of energy. She typically feels semi-refreshed from the weekend and always makes sure to stop for an iced latte on her way into the shop. Plus, Mondays are one of the calmer days at Jaded Tattoos — after all, there weren’t a ton of people coming in to get tattooed on the first day of the workweek.

But Tuesdays are just… icky. Y/N works as the makeshift secretary at the shop, so she manages everyone’s schedules and handles client booking — it would all be terribly boring if she didn’t work at Jaded, but she can get a new tattoo or piercing anytime one of the artists has some down time. Plus, no one ever judges her for the existing art on her skin, which she can’t say about other jobs she’s had in the past.

However, on Tuesdays, for some reason, the shop is always bustling. Clients are always canceling or showing up late (or, worst of all, missing their appointments altogether without saying a word), which in turn makes the artists annoyed. Y/N understands that — it’s annoying and rude, but then the energy in the shop gets all wonky and everyone feels tense and stressed out. Even her mid-afternoon break, when she takes a walk around the block to get herself a coffee and a pastry, isn’t enough to pull her out of the weird mindset.

She’s just settled into the last part of her day, using the iPad to look through the schedule when a fairly looking clean cut man walks through the door. At first, she assumes he’s lost, but only an idiot would come in without knowing it’s a tattoo shop. He has neatly groomed brunette hair and wears a navy blazer over a white tee-shirt, complete with matching trousers. It makes Y/N involuntarily quirk her eyebrows, a pesky wrinkle appearing between them as she accidentally stares at him. He offers a tight, awkward smile when he walks up to her desk, placing his elbows on the surface.

“Hi. I have an appointment at 3 with Jan.”

Y/N tries her best not to let her jaw drop. She knows she should really be less judgemental, but based on the slight crows feet wrinkles that creep at the edges of his eyes, this guy has to be nearing his 40s. Was he having some kind of midlife crisis? She supposes it’s possible, but why wouldn’t he just opt for buying a new car or house or something? He looks rich enough.

“Hello?”

Y/N realizes that she hasn’t said a single thing since he approached and parts her lips, mumbling out an embarrassed apology as she scrolls on the iPad to look at Jan’s schedule. Sure enough, she’s blocked off from 3 to 4:45 p.m.

“Um, is this your first tattoo?” Y/N asks, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes quickly roam over his body, but most of his skin is covered. There’s a spiel she says with people who are tattoo virgins — making sure they’ve eaten and they’re hydrated and if they’re not, she gives them snacks and water. It was one of the policies she implemented when she started a few years back, and it makes her happy to know that she helps newbies feel more comfortable before getting jabbed with a needle for an hour.

“No,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, “No, sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. Jan’s helping me with a coverup.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, Jan is great with those.” she replies as she slides the iPad across to him. “I’m just gonna have you fill out this consent form and some other fun stuff. I’ll let her know you’re here, but my name is Y/N if you have any questions.”

He nods and flashes her a bright smile, and Y/N swears her heart skips a beat. She wonders what tattoo he’s getting covered up. She doesn’t often ask clients what they’re having done unless they decide to talk to her about it. It can be a rather personal experience for some — while she has some completely asinine, ridiculous tattoos herself, she also has a few with meaning, and she would certainly be taken back if someone randomly asked her about them.

Jan is busy getting some sketching done when Y/N gently knocks on her open door. She turns around in her wheely chair and smiles before asking her what’s up.

“Your 3 p.m. is here,” she says, leaning against the doorframe, “He says you’re covering something up for him?”

“Yup, that’ll be Harry Styles.” Jan replies with an affirmative nod. “We chatted a decent amount through email. Took the guy like, a month before deciding to come in.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “What’s he getting done?”

Jan stands from her chair and stretches her back and arms out, revealing a sliver of her tattooed stomach. “Wants his ex-wife’s name covered up. You know how it goes. You can send him in whenever he’s ready, I just need to photocopy some stencils.”

Y/N nods and hopes Jan didn’t catch the way her eyes widened at the mention of an ex-wife. She supposes she shouldn’t be too surprised — she did figure he was on the older side, at least 10 years her age — but is still a bit shocked that someone who looks that wealthy and put together would tattoo his partner’s name on him. Y/N, despite having a plethora of permanent tattoos herself, didn’t believe in any of that. She felt like it was bad luck. Plus, she didn’t see herself ever loving anyone enough to do that. The thought itself made her shudder.

When she returns back to the front, Harry’s drumming his fingers along the surface of her desk and looking around the interior of the shop. He doesn’t look nervous, but she wonders if he is. She’d seen her fair share of grown men pass out or vomit from being under the needle.

“All done?” she asks, pointing to the tablet. He nods. “Cool. You ate before this right? Hydrated and everything?”

Again, Harry nods, but this time a crooked smirk appears on his face. “Yes. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Just making sure,” she murmurs, plugging the iPad back in the charger, “Okay, you can follow me to Jan’s workstation.”

“Sure. Just one question — is there a place I can put this?”

Before Y/N has a chance to ask him what he’s talking about, he sheds the blazer he’s wearing to reveal two heavily tattooed, very muscular arms. She has to forcibly prevent her jaw from falling to the floor as her eyes roam over the myriad of black ink that swirls over his tanned skin. There doesn’t seem to be much of a theme, but her tattoos lack coherence, too. She swallows like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character, and when she finally glances at Harry’s face, he has a stupid, cocky smirk on.

She narrows her eyes. “There’s some jacket hooks by the door.”

“Perfect,” he grins cheerfully. He turns, showcasing a few more scattered designs on the backs of his arms, and places his jacket on one of the hooks. “Now you can stop judging me like I’m some old man going through a midlife crisis.”

This time, Y/N’s jaw really does drop.

“I’m not!” she immediately scrambles, even though they both know it’s a complete lie. “I just— I didn’t see any tattoos and I wanted to make sure you were prepared—”

“Sure, sure,” he cuts her off, pointing to some of the workstations in the back. “Jan’s is back there?”

“Yes, but I really wasn’t judging you, I have a million stupid tattoos myself—”

“Right, but because you’re half my age, it’s fine, right?”

“That’s not what I thought at all—”

“Have a good rest of your day.”

Y/N’s left standing there, confusion and embarrassment seeping into her bones, as Harry walks over to Jan’s station.

. . .

Exactly one hour and 45 minutes later, Harry leaves the shop.

Y/N spent the entire time nervously straightening up, sweeping the floors and rearranging their supply closet, trying to decide on what she would say to him when he walked by. She wanted to apologize, especially because she hoped he didn’t say anything to Jan. A client had never complained about her — not once in her three years of working at Jaded, and it would ruin her to know that somebody had a poor experience because of her.

Instead, she chickened out and watched him grab his jacket off the hook. Like every tattoo client leaving, he had a clear piece of film wrap stuck to the inside of his left arm. She wished she could see Jan’s work.

A few minutes later, Jan is heading out, too.

“Don’t stay too late tonight, Y/N. The needles and ink can get sorted tomorrow.” she says, nudging her chin the direction of the closet she’s currently busying herself with. Y/N hums and peeks her head out.

“How was the coverup?” she tries her best to make her voice seem nonchalant, as if she’s sincerely curious in how it went as opposed to finding out if he made any mean comments about the nosy girl in the front.

“Fine,” Jan shrugs as she pulls her car keys from her tote bag, “We didn’t get too far. He’ll be coming in for the next three or four weeks. It’ll take some time to cover that shit up. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

Y/N nods robotically and forces out a “get home safe!”.

Three to four weeks?

Harry Styles is going to be the death of her. She’s sure of it.

. . .

The following Tuesday, Y/N has a plan.

When she arrives to work that day, she double checks the schedule to ensure she hasn’t been driving herself insane for a week over nothing (and maybe she has, considering her brain has been a hamster wheel of overthinking a man who uttered a few snarky sentences to her). Sure enough, Harry Styles is scheduled to come in for his second session of covering up his tattoo at 3 p.m. sharp.

Here’s what she decides to do: She’s going to dig her Doc Marten-clad heels into the (metaphorical) ground and politely but assertively tell this Harry Styles that it wasn’t very kind of him to assume she was judging him. After all, isn’t that more judgemental on his end? He had been acting like a classic, wealthy, powerful man, asserting his so-called power over a young woman who was simply trying to make his tattoo experience as seamless as possible. What a dick!

It goes without saying that when he shows up at Jaded at 2:45 p.m., her eyes automatically narrow his form. She’s slightly hopped up on caffeine (she’ll admit, she’s been waiting for this moment all day). She doesn’t even allow herself to to assess his outfit today, which consists of another white tank top, a dark gray blazer, and a pair of matching trousers. It’s similar to what he arrived in last week — all business and ridiculous and stupid, she thinks, especially in comparison to her cutoff denim shorts, vintage band tee-shirt, and platform shoes.

“Hi Harry,” she says, greeting him with a fake, rage-filled smile, “Do you have a moment to chat before your appointment?”

Harry raises his eyebrows, almost as if he’s surprised that she’s even speaking to him to begin with.

“Sure.”

Y/N nods and stands from the front desk, motioning for him to head outside. He does and she follows him, immediately crossing her arms over his chest the second they’re no longer within earshot distance of the shop.

Instantly, a stormy look comes over her face and she flares her nostrils. “Last week when you accused me of judging you for going through a midlife crisis? Yeah, that wasn’t cool. You can’t just do that to people. I get it, you’re a privileged guy who’s used to getting whatever you want in life, but I’m here to put my foot down and tell you that it wasn’t nice. It actually really hurt my feelings! And, you know what, why does it even matter what—”

“You’re right.”

Y/N’s head snaps up.

“What?”

Harry shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “You’re completely right. The second I left, I felt awful. I wanted to say something when I was leaving, but I felt it was better to give you your distance.”

Confused, she fumbles over her words, forgetting where she was in her speech. She clears her throat and nods curtly.

“Yeah. You should feel awful.”

A small smile appears on his lips. “I do. I even brought you a cookie from my favorite bakery by my office building.”

“Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

Harry nods and digs into the work bag on his shoulder. Sure enough, he produces a cookie that’s the size of Y/N’s face. She recognizes the sticker on the wrapping as a bakery that’s downtown — she’ll order pastries and snacks from there for the staff sometimes, but it’s usually too expensive and far away for her to treat them. She accepts it from him, but not before she peers up at him with narrowed eyes.

“What kind is it?” she questions, as if it’s a test.

“Raspberry white chocolate,” he answers. “I didn’t know what you like, obviously, so I went with my favorite. I hope that’s okay.”

She won’t tell him that that’s also her favorite, but she offers him a short nod of approval. She swallows tightly as she looks back up at the taller man. “Thank you for the apology cookie. Do you wanna share it with me?”

The edges of his lips curl up into a grin. “Sure. I have some time to spare before my session.”

Y/N digs into the bag and retrieves the cookie, breaking it in half. She hands a piece to Harry, who murmurs out a soft thank you. Together, they stand outside the shop in silence, each nibbling on their half of the cookie. After a few moments of quiet, Y/N sneaks a glance at his tattoo. Jan was right — they haven’t gotten very far in covering it up since she can still clearly read the three letters that spell out MAY.

Harry must have followed her gaze because he glimpses down at her. “Do you guys get a lot of people covering up dumb tattoos?”

She does her best not to choke on the bit of cookie in her mouth.

“Um, I mean, some people end up regretting… certain things they get,” she replies, stumbling over her words. “You’re, um, definitely not the first to… y’know. Get their partner’s name done.”

He chuckles, but it seems more humorless than anything. “Yeah. Stupid mistake for sure.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders. “It can’t be that stupid if you learned something from it.”

“What do you mean?”

She swallows the rest of her cookie and leans back against the cool, brick wall of the shop. It feels nice in comparison to the rising temperatures outside. Now that they’re slowly dipping into warmer climates, she finds herself appreciating small instances of cooling down, like an air conditioned coffee shop or the evening draft when the sun’s gone down.

“We all make mistakes or decisions that don’t end up working out. You’re certainly not the first person to get divorced or even get their significant other’s name tattooed,” she explains. “But did you get anything out of the process? Did you learn anything from it?”

Harry thinks for a moment. He hadn’t really considered that — not in the five years since he and May made their divorce official. It was a shitty experience from start to finish, that much was apparent. But when he ponders whether or not anything decent came out of it, he wonders if she has a point.

“I mean, I guess I did. I don’t think I would be where I am, standing here now, if it hadn’t happened.”

She hums. “It wasn’t a complete waste then.”

He shrugs. “I guess not.”

Y/N pulls her phone from the pocket of her shorts and glances at the time. 2:58 p.m.

“We should probably head back inside. Your appointment’s starting soon,” she says, straightening out her posture. “Thank you again for the cookie.”

“Sure,” Harry nods. “Thanks for the advice.”

She shoots him the smallest of bashful smiles in response.

. . .

The following Tuesday, Y/N feels far less intimidated about seeing Harry.

In a weird way, she’s actually looking forward to his 3 p.m. appointment. He’s way more talkative than some of the other clients that come in, and she’d be lying if she said his little cookie stunt from last week hadn’t placed him in her good graces. She also felt as though it was a crime not to acknowledge how attractive he was — she’d noticed it from the first moment he stepped into the shop, but now that they were on better terms, she was more open to recognizing it. Beyond the plethora of tattoos that covered his skin, he didn’t look much like other people Y/N had gone after in the past — not that she was going after him in any way.

Her exes consisted of a rough roster of less than satisfactory partners: There was Declan, who she dated in college, but they broke up after he got kicked out for doing stick-and-poke tattoos in his dorm room. After that was Alice, but it turned out she was just using Y/N to figure out her sexuality and, after three months of dating, decided she didn’t like going down on girls. Lastly and most recently there was Jonathan, who had so many tattoos he lost count. He had big dreams of becoming either a professional skateboarder or a drummer in a punk band, but he didn’t own a bed frame so his mattress took permanent real estate on the dirty, hardwood floor of his loft, and he was constantly sending Y/N Venmo requests for money with captions like “pls babe haven’t eaten in 2 days.” (It’s safe to say that all of those relationships ended for good reasons.)

While she didn’t have any plans to approach Harry romantically, there was something about him that piqued her interest. Well, maybe it was multiple somethings. For one, he was 12 years older than her. She’d never thought about dating someone that much older, but she happened to sneak a glance at his consent form to see his date of birth just out of plain — and legal — curiosity. Harry seemed to have his life together. Every time he came to the shop, he was coming straight from work in what appeared to be a put-together, expensive suit. He always tipped Jan well (30% for each session — Y/N knows because she did the math) and he was kind to all the artists, even if he’d never spoken to them before. And, she had to admit that the communication and vulnerability he offered last week had been a stark change from the treatment she was used to.

Yeah, so maybe she had an eensy, tiny, miniscule crush on Harry. But she’s sure it’ll fade away once he’s finished with his coverup — he only has two sessions left, anyway. How much damage could be done in that small of a timeframe?

. . .

“Y/N, I need you to postpone Harry’s session today!”

Jan’s haphazardly running around and grabbing her things, mumbling out nonsense as she looks for her car keys. Confused, Y/N gets up from her seat at the front desk.

“Is everything okay?” she calls out as she walks over to the jacket closet, grabbing Jan’s keyring off the hook. Shutting the door behind her, she finds Jan scrambling through her office. When her eyes flit up to see the keys in Y/N’s hand, her eyebrows relax as she grabs them.

“Not really,” she mutters, yanking her phone out of her pocket, “You know that girl I’ve been seeing? Lizzy? She was at my place with my dogs today and apparently one of them must’ve eaten something bad because now they won’t stop throwing up. I’m meeting her at the vet downtown. Tell Harry I’m really sorry, okay?”

Jan is gone in a flash, running down the sidewalk to get in her car. Y/N can’t blame her — her dogs are her entire life, so her stomach sinks as she thinks about something bad happening to them. She makes a mental note to text her and check in with her later, but not before she messages Harry to let him know that his appointment is canceled.

When she heads back to her desk, she brings up Harry’s digital paperwork to retrieve his number. They don’t have a phone specifically for the shop, so she has to text him from her personal number, which makes her heart beat a little too quickly for her own good. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she types out a message: Hey Harry, this is Y/N from Jaded. I’m just texting to let you know that Jan had an emergency and can’t tattoo you this afternoon. She’s really sorry about the inconvenience.

She places her locked phone down on the dark mahogany of the desk and tries to ignore the pit of disappointment that settles in her stomach. Had she spent a few extra minutes primping her appearance this morning in preparation to see him? Maybe, and there’s a teensy, tiny part of her that despises herself for it. Harry doesn’t want anything to do with her. She’s 12 years his junior and she’s nothing more than the nice receptionist at the tattoo shop he’s getting a piece done at.

With a self-deprecating sigh, she picks at her fingernails when her phone lights up. She reads Harry’s name across the screen and assumes he’s probably responded with something kind and unassuming; something that will make her heart beat embarrassingly fast in her chest.

That’s okay. Thanks for the heads up.

Are you still at the shop? Maybe we can get together instead.

Y/N’s eyes are the size of saucers as she quickly replies: okay! Where should we meet?

. . .

Harry chooses a coffee shop that’s within walking distance of Jaded. He’s never been there before but each week he noticed Y/N sipping on iced drinks with the name of the cafe sprawled across the cup, so he figured she must like it.

It’s been a long while since a girl has been Harry nervous, and he’s somewhat surprised that she comes wrapped up in a body with sprawling tattoos and piercings, always in cute skirts and platform Doc Martens. She’s sweet — he likes that her shoes are so heavy that he can hear her walking before he sees her and that she fiddles with her nose ring when she’s bored. He likes that her wardrobe is a rotation of baggy band tee-shirts and black jeans or plaid skirts, that her soft, smooth hands are covered in nonsensical designs that likely have stories similar to his — a friend with a tattoo gun, a boring Tuesday afternoon. She’s nothing that Harry has ever been attracted to and yet, she’s everything he wants.

He’s made careful efforts not to put her on a pedestal. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was just horny and depraved — I mean, what kind of guy would walk into the shop and not drool over the pretty, young girl working the front? And while he’s not entirely proud of what he did next, he found it to be a necessary next step: He sorted through his rolodex of hookups, texted his most foolproof girl (a tall, leggy brunette who modeled on the side), and invited her over.

It turns out, Harry could only come when he pretended she was Y/N.

In hindsight, it made him feel gross and icky; lusting over a girl who’s certainly at least 10 years younger. It’s why he forces himself to try — if she rejects him, he can move on with his life and find someone more age-appropriate.

But she doesn’t. In fact, she replies within a minute and asks where she should meet him.

It’s how Harry ends up clutching a small Americano in his hand, sitting in a back booth at Buzzybee Cafe.

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, nervous and jumpy, keeping his eyes glued on the front entrance. Every now and then, he’ll glimpse down at his phone on the table to check the time. He halfway expects her to text and let him know that she’s not coming — an understandable and believable excuse about getting busy at work or, Harry doesn’t know, maybe not wanting to meet up with someone who’s older. Why would she? She’s capable of getting nearly anyone she wants in this world, she’s pretty and funny and smart and stands up for herself and—

“Hey, Harry.”

His spiraling thoughts come to a screeching halt when he glances up to see the object of his affection standing over him with a small, timid smile on her lips. He blinks, somewhat surprised that she’s there.

In front of him.

And he hasn’t said a thing yet.

“Hey,” Harry finally forces out, his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously, “You made it.”

“Of course!” her eyes light up and he feels his heart thump noisily in his chest, “What’d you get to drink? Do you need anything?”

“Just an Americano,” he answers, trying not to feel lame about his boring drink choice. Y/N wrinkles her face in response.

“You would be one of those manly ‘I-only-drink-espresso-and-black-coffee’ kind of guys, wouldn’t you?”

She says it with a teasing smile and it offers him permission for a small scoff to leave his throat followed by a joking roll of the eyes.

“What, was I supposed to get one of those sugary drinks you always seem to get?” he fires back, making Y/N’s eyes widen.

“They’re not that bad!” she exclaims through plush, lipstick-stained lips, “Here, now I’m gonna order one and make you try it. You’ve dug your grave, Styles!”

She’s turning on her Doc Marten-clad foot to order before Harry has the chance to offer to pay for her order. That had been the plan, but like most things about Y/N, he realizes, those pre-decided upon strategies get tossed out the window the second she pops up. It makes Harry jiggle his leg beneath the table, both as an expression of unfamiliar excitement and nervousness.

She returns to their table with some sort of coffee-hued concoction with whipped cream piled high. It makes Harry’s nose crinkle, and he doesn’t notice that Y/N smiles at the way his skin ripples underneath the cute expression.

“Okay, since you were kind of a dick to me the day we met, you have no choice but to try it.”

Harry’s eyes instantly form into rounded saucers, apologies quick to make it to the tip of his tongue. Before he can start, she puts her hand up.

“I don’t care about it now, you’ve already apologized for it. But the only way for us to move on is if you try my white mocha frappé.”

“Y/N,” Harry sighs. He scoots his elbows forward and peers up at her. “What the fuck is a frappé?”

She giggles before wrapping her lips around the straw, taking a hearty sip of the drink, “It’s like a blended coffee. It’s my go-to when I’m having a shit day.”

“You drink this when you’re having a bad day?” Harry asks as she pushes the cup in his direction. “You don’t think this will fuck your stomach up enough to absolutely ruin your day?”

“No, because it’s a fun treat. And a little treat will brighten up anyone’s day.”

Y/N answers his question like it’s plain and simple science. He wants to continue on about the sugar content, how this is likely a heart attack neatly compiled into a 16-ounce cup, but he can’t — not when he looks at her and she stares back with an expectant expression, waiting for him to take a sip.

“Fine,” he mumbles, flexing his fingers to wrap them around the cold plastic cup, “But promise you won’t bring up my… shortcomings anymore?”

Y/N grins. “Scout’s honor.”

It tastes exactly how Harry expected — sugary, way too sweet, and slightly nauseating. But when he sees that puppy-like look of excitement painted over her face, he can’t help but let out a quiet laugh and shake his head.

“See? That wasn’t too bad.” Y/N replies as she takes her drink back.

“No,” not when you look at me like that, “Not at all.”

. . .

Harry and Y/N sit tucked away in their booth at Buzzybee for far too long.

It’s easy to talk to her, Harry finds. She’s receptive and kind and lets him finish his stories without interrupting. She doesn’t judge him for his divorce, not even when he tells her that he played just as much of a part in ruining his marriage as May did. He tells her about his job as a museum curator, his affinity for playing tennis on the weekends, his six year-long trek with veganism, and his secret passion for hunting down vintage band tee-shirts from the 1970s and ‘80s.

Y/N isn’t ashamed to reveal just as much which, if she’s being honest, is quite uncharacteristic for her. It typically takes weeks, if not months for her to completely warm up to a person and start telling them about her hobbies, family dynamic, and the time her grandma cried when she realized she got her nose pierced. She tells him about how much she loves playing cozy video games on her Nintendo Switch, the myriad of plants and greenery that decorate her loft apartment, and how she actually started working at Jaded to become a tattoo apprentice, but ended up falling in love with working the front instead.

By the time the cafe is closing up and the nice employees are now glaring at them, silently pleading that they leave, Harry feels like he’s known Y/N for a million years. In some weird way, he doesn’t know how he’s gone this long without her bright smile and saccharine laughter in his life. It’s all he can think about as they throw their empty cups away and slowly stroll down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the tattoo shop. He doesn’t mean to be lost in his thoughts as

Y/N chatters on about the latest game she’s been playing in her down time, but he can’t ignore the small shining pit of happiness that’s glowing deep in his belly right now. He’s missed this — this hopeful feeling with the promise of someone special on the other end.

It’s all he can think about as they approach Y/N’s car and, when she turns to face him to say goodbye, he’s already blurting the words out without a second thought.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

She blinks, parting her plush lips as her tongue peeks over the ridges of her two front teeth. “Oh… I thought— this wasn’t a date?”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Oh! I mean— it could if you wanted it to be. I just— I didn’t ask you beforehand and I’d want to do that. And pay for you and all that.”

“I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I just thought— I don’t know what I thought—”

“No, you were right, I was just being dumb—”

“No, no!” Y/N shakes her head and the smile that edges at her lips makes Harry’s chest pulse with relief. “We’re both being silly, I think. I would love to go on a date with you, though.”

“Yeah?” he asks, the slight disbelief apparent in his voice, “Are you free this weekend?”

She nods with a small smile.

“How about Saturday? You can come over and I’ll cook you dinner?”

She has to bite her lip to hide the growing grin on her lips. “Okay. I’ll see you Saturday.”

He watches as she starts her car and pulls away from the curb to make sure she’s safe on her way home.

. . .

On Saturday evening, Y/N shows up to Harry’s house. She wears her favorite black midi dress and matches them with a pair of clunky boots. When she arrives, the smile that encompasses Harry’s face makes her chest glow.

He’d texted her earlier that day to make sure she didn’t have any dietary restrictions and made them a delicious pasta dinner. Afterwards, they cuddle on the couch, Y/N’s heart thrumming quickly in her chest at the close proximity. When it’s finally time for her to go home, Harry seals the deal by smearing his lips against hers. It’s warm and soft and his large palms splay over her hips as she wraps her arms around him, gently playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

By the time she gets home that evening (texting Harry to let him know she got back safely, per his request), they both know they’re head over heels for one another.

. . .

Perhaps quite predictably, Harry and Y/N start seeing each other more regularly after that first afternoon at Buzzybee Cafe. It’s slow at first — Harry’s nervous about scaring her away, so he sets boundaries with himself, only pledging to text her a few times a week. She’s receptive, though, and he’s thrilled that her messages start coming in more often: Sometimes pictures of dogs that come in with clients to the shop, other times it’s memes that remind her of him. (She’ll sometimes have to explain them to him because he, embarrassingly enough, doesn’t always understand.) Weeks of casual texting complimented by his weekly appointments with Jan tumble into daily good morning texts accompanied by selfies and outfit shots. When his tattoo of his ex-wife’s name is finally covered up by a detailed illustration of a sailing ship, he’s anxious in his realization that he’ll have to come up with new ways to regularly see her, but she’s already two steps ahead of him with an invitation to their second (official, third unofficial) date for the upcoming weekend.

The rest is somewhat history.

Well, sort of.

It’s a month and a half in when Harry asks Y/N to accompany him to a work event at some smarmy art museum in the city. His office had had a huge hand in sourcing the pieces and there were a ton of donors involved, so the museum’s director was throwing some type of soiree to celebrate the opening. Inviting Y/N as his plus one was a no-brainer — call him old fashioned, but he had plans to ask her to be his girlfriend sometime soon. He wanted to make it special, though, maybe with a candlelit dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant or a well thought-out picnic in the park they loved to walk through on the weekends.

“This isn’t, like, on the level of the Met Gala or something, is it?” Y/N asks that evening as she swipes a q-tip beneath the sharp cat eye of her eyeliner. Harry snorts and shakes his head from his spot in the doorway, where he watches as she diligently finishes up her eye makeup. He’d picked her up from work and eaten an early dinner together before they planned to head out to the museum.

“It’s really not a big deal, it’s just a small event with a bunch of snooty art people,” Harry replies nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a fashionable set tonight, consisting of a powder blue undershirt and a navy blazer with matching trousers. As usual, his fingers don their usual jewelry. When Y/N saw what he was wearing, she’d wanted to match him, but she didn’t have any dresses in her closet that weren’t black. He insisted that it was fine, but there was a teensy sliver of her that felt bad about it.

“How snooty?”

He thinks for a moment. “I mean, no one will be mean to you if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d never let that happen anyway.”

She ignores the way her cheeks warm as she sweeps some bronzer over the structure of her face.

“It’ll be fine, baby,” he murmurs, coming up from behind her. He knows better than to disturb her while she’s doing her makeup, so he waits for her movements to still before he drops a kiss to the top of her head. Her heart stutters at the pet name. “Almost done, yeah? We gotta leave soon.”

“Mhmm,” she nods, picking up her freshly sharpened lip liner, “Just gotta do my lips and put my dress on and we’re good.”

“I don’t know why you’re putting lipstick on when I’m not gonna be able to keep my mouth off yours all night.” he instantly fires back as he issues a squeeze to her waistline. Y/N squeals and bats him away, eager for some peace from Harry’s playful teasing. He chuckles, presses a kiss to her temple, and murmurs out something about calling the Uber as he leaves the bathroom.

Y/N has to force the smile off her face so she can finish applying her lip liner.

. . .

Apparently, when Harry meant “snooty”, he really meant to say, “the most annoying, judgemental, snobby people on planet Earth”.

From the second Harry and Y/N had stepped into the museum that evening, she was on the receiving end of horrified stares. From the colorful ink that decorated her arms to her arm being threaded through Harry’s, it seemed like everyone had something to gawk at. Truthfully, she was used to people looking at her — not in an arrogant, “pick me” kind of way, but in the way where she understood she had tons of tattoos that some people liked and others hated.

But the snide eyes weren’t just because of her ink, and she knows that. It’s because she’s here with Harry.

Harry, who knows nearly everyone at this event.

Harry, who’s apparently one of the most high up curators at his job and Y/N had no idea.

Harry, who’s capable of rubbing elbows with even the rudest of people while Y/N just stands there, unsure of what to say, because when the first person asked her what she does for work and she said “I work at a tattoo shop”, they replied with a simple, disgusted, “oh.”

She feels like an idiot.

She feels small.

She feels judged.

And the person she came here with is doing nothing, aside from the occasional grimace when the conversation finally ends.

Y/N’s last straw comes in the form of one of the museum’s assistant directors, who comes over to thank Harry once again for all of his hard work. When her eyes dart to Y/N, who has one hand curled around yet another glass of fizzy champagne, they widen and pingpong back to Harry.

“Harry, you didn’t tell me you had a daughter!” she exclaims as her lips stretch into a huge grin. Immediately, Y/N’s arm drops from Harry’s and she swallows as bile begins to build in her throat.

“Oh— Gwen, no, this isn’t— t-this isn’t my daughter,” Harry stutters nervously, blinking as he watches the horrified look in Y/N’s eyes. “Um, this is Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other.”

Gwen’s eyebrows raise, “Oh, my mistake. Apologies to you both. I just assumed Harry would spend his time with someone a bit more… savory.” her gaze flits back to Harry. “You must understand.”

Y/N doesn’t allow herself to hear Harry’s response. She knows he’s too kind and professional to chew her up and spit her out the way she wants him to. Instead, she simply slams her glass down on the nearest waiter’s tray, turns around, and rushes out of the building.

The words continue to replay in her head as tears flood her vision. All she wants to do is go home. She never should have entertained this relationship — who does she think she is? Someone a bit more… savory.

You didn’t tell me you had a daughter!

You must understand.

Fat, salty slip down her cheeks as she walks outside, her platform heels clicking against the concrete sidewalk. She doesn’t know where she’s going, instead just picking a direction and walking in it as she uses the back of her hand to wipe the wetness away.

You must understand.

Because everyone, including Y/N now, gets it — she doesn’t fit in to Harry’s world. She never has and she never will, and it was pathetic for either of them to think she ever would.

Gripping her silky dress in her hands, she continues walking as far as she can get from the museum. As her vision begins to clear, she makes half-baked decisions: She’ll order an Uber when the distance from Harry is decent enough to feel comfortable. She’ll block his number. She won’t even care to pick up any of the clothing she’s left at his house, and she’ll simply throw away the few tee-shirts and sweatshirts he’s left at hers.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been walking but she’s ripped from her thoughts when she hears loud calls of her name. She recognizes the voice — how couldn’t she, not when he’s the only person that’s seeped through her psyche and into cotton candy tufts of her dreamland — and tries to quicken her pace. She mentally curses the heels on her feet, sniffling as she begins to limp from the pain of the high platforms.

“Y/N, please! Stop!”

The sound of his shouts only makes her eyes blur with tears once again and suddenly, the tall figure is beside her, panting and breathing loudly. He wraps a careful arm around her shoulders as he matches her slow pace and shushes her, caroling them over to the side in front of a business that’s already closed for the night. Through weepy eyes, she can hardly make out his face, but she can tell it’s Harry just from his touch and scent alone.

“Baby, please,” he says, slowly smoothing his hand down her back. It’s comforting and she wishes it wasn’t. “You have to breathe, honey. C’mon, inhale and exhale.”

Y/N’s brain is a wash of noisy static so she welcomes the direction, quickly abandoning her plans to remove herself from Harry’s life. It helps that he’s reminding her of how to do the most basic of human functions, guiding her in slow, deep breaths that start to regulate her speeding heart.

“There you go, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

When she finally manages a glimpse up at him, his eyes are bleary and red-rimmed. She finds it difficult to believe that he would’ve been crying over her, too, so she quickly blinks and looks away.

“What happened back there?” Harry asks, his throat bobbing with a swallow, “I know that was weird, but why did you run? Why couldn’t you have talked to me?”

Y/N can’t fight the scoff that forces itself free from her chest. “All night, people were staring at me like I was some kind of alien. As if my tattoos weren’t enough of a reason to gawk, they were looking at me like I didn’t even deserve to be standing next to you. I felt pathetic, Harry. I just— I don’t fit in with this lifestyle and I think it’s better if we just… just leave it.”

“What lifestyle?” Harry demands as his eyebrows thicken with anger, “I’m not like them, you know that—”

“I don’t want to go places and have people think I’m your daughter, Harry!” she yells with wide eyes, “I don’t want to be looked down upon if we go to a work thing for you! People acted like I was your fucking sugar baby. Do you know how demeaning that is?”

“And do you realize how disgusting that makes me feel?” he seethes. “Bringing someone 12 years younger than me? Being in love with someone who wasn’t even around for the first part of my life?”

“You don’t mean that,” Y/N breathes, shaking her head in angry dismissal. “You’re just saying that.”

Harry takes a hesitant step closer and reaches out to cradle her elbow. “Yes, I do. I would never lie to you, Y/N. But I love you— I love you so much that it’s killing me that you would ever think you don’t have a place in my life.”

“I don’t, Harry—”

“You do,” he cuts her off and reaches to take her hands in his palms, squishing her cheeks together. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone else says or thinks. I don’t care what they think of us. I love you, Y/N. I want you in my life.”

Y/N swallows harshly. She can’t escape his locked-in gaze, but she doesn’t want to. It’s all she needed, even if she didn’t realize it until now — the verbalization that he wants her there. And that’s enough.

“Okay,” she whispers, nodding her head in his grasp. His eyes widen. “Okay. I want to be in your life, too.”

“You promise?”

A small smile curls at the edges of her lips. “I promise,” she says, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. “Take me home now, please.”

. . .

The second Harry and Y/N walk through the doorway of his place, it’s a blurry scene of spit swollen lips, wet kisses, and sprawling touches.

Harry imagined their first time being far more romantic than this, but he doesn’t care. Neither of them do. Now, more than ever, they need each other.

The air is thick with tension when Harry momentarily breaks their kiss only to shed Y/N of the straps on her shoulders. He gently tugs them down to her shoulders before slowly traveling down her body, sliding his large palms over the silky fabric of her dress to meet her platform heels, where he diligently unbuckles them and slips them off her feet.

“Thank you,” she breathes, watching as he gets back up from his knees. He hums and cups her chin with his fingers, bringing her closer to lightly kiss her lips.

“I want to show you that you’re not making a mistake,” he whispers as he gently leans his forehead up against hers. “That giving me a chance is something you won’t regret.”

Immediately she shakes her head. Despite the close view of her face, Harry can tell her eyebrows knit together; a familiar furrow whenever she’s particularly determined.

“I know it’s not. You don’t have to show me anything.”

He notices that her fingers shake as she brings them up to his neck, winding them around to the back of his head. He swallows, allowing her the space to experiment, both verbally and physically.

And then: “I love you, Harry.”

At first, he doesn’t say anything. His heart races and his chest feels warm as he blinks, repeating the words in his brain.

Finally, raspberry lips part.

“You don’t have to say that just because I said it,” he murmurs, thumbing over the apple of her cheek. “We can go slow. There’s no pressure.”

“I know,” she nods, “I know. But I do. I love you so much.”

A pause.

“I love you,” Harry says, sliding his hands down the curves of her sides and to her waist. “Fuck, I love you, Y/N.”

“Don’t stop saying it.” she whispers. His fingers dip below the material of her dress and she swallows when he finds the bare skin of her hips. Exhaling shakily, she allows him to pull her lacey underwear down over the bend of her bum, letting them pool uselessly at her feet.

“I love you.” he says again, his hands suddenly at her wrists. He uses his gentle grasp to lift her arms up so he can push the dress up and over her body, leaving her in just the strapless bra she’d fit herself into for the evening. Just as quickly, his skilled fingers pop the clasp open, and they’re in a futile pool of Y/N’s clothes while Harry stands before her, still in his navy blue ensemble.

It’s a vulnerable place to be but she doesn’t hate it — not when he stares at her with soft eyes, dragging his gaze up and down the expanse of her form. She wants to cover herself, but she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches forward and thumbs open the button of his blazer before sliding the fabric off his torso. Just as he did to her, he watches as she slowly sheds him of his shirt, then his trousers, and finally, his briefs.

His cock is thick and long and Y/N’s hand immediately loops around it the second it slaps up against his lower belly. He hisses and grabs her hips, pressing blunt fingernails into the soft skin as he pushes her back against the couch. All too flawlessly, he’s now given himself the upper hand, hovering over her naked body, his biceps bulging as he keeps himself up.

“Please,” she says breathily, “I want you. No teasing.”

Harry huffs out a guttural chuckle as he begins to plant kisses along her collarbones and down to her chest, landing just above her belly button.

“I’m big,” he murmurs into her skin. “‘M not trying to tease. Just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can do it,” Y/N insists, her voice growing whiney with need. “Don’t wanna wait any longer.”

"You're cute when you beg." Harry mumbles out in response as his lips curve into a smirk. Her jaw drops a smidge, prepared to respond, but he quickly stretches over her body to press his lips to hers again. Just as it was the moment they came home, the kiss is frantic and driven with energy, filled with tension and electricity. Harry catches each of her noisy whimpers with his lips, a groan of his own on the verge of tumbling out. He feels her squeeze her thighs together and assumes it’s an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building in her core, making his cock continue to swell between their bodies. If he wanted to, he knows he could get them off just like this — him grinding against the soft skin of her stomach while he dips a few fingers into her sopping pussy. But they both need more than that.

Again, he breaks this kiss, this time resulting in a rather frustrated Y/N. Her lips are slicked with spit and swollen from the frenzied kissing, his likely appearing the same.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," she breathes, nodding her head like a bobblehead, "Yes, I want you. Please."

"You want me?" he teases, and she has to resist rolling her eyes at the sudden uptick of arrogance. "That's awfully forward of you. What happened to my sweet good girl?"

"I'm still here," she whines, "Harry, please, you're— you're being mean, you know what I want."

He ducks under her jaw to press soft kisses along her neck, gently sucking at spots of skin. Light splotches appear from the welcomed assault, ensuring that they remember this long after it’s over. She instantly weaves her painted fingernails into his curly hair.

"Tell me what you want." Harry demands, placing his hands on either side of her head. He keeps his palms flush against the throw pillow, caging her in. Her face begins to flush and her lips flutter over the words, so he leans down to brush his nose against hers; a reminder that she’s safe. "Go ahead, bun."

"I want you to fuck me," she mumbles, her bottom lip nearly quivering with need. She looks like she could cry all over again — only this time, for good reasons.

He reaches his hand up to her mouth, jutting his thumb out to pull at her lip. Immediately responsive, she parts her lips, making him smile as he pushes his finger inside. She sucks at it lightly.

"You're so good. So cute, so good," he says softly, watching her. "I want you just as bad, sweet girl. Y'sure you're ready for my cock? I haven't even seen your pretty pussy yet—"

"Shut up," she mutters out, his thumb laying heavy on her tongue. "I can take it. Promise.” He lets out a laugh at her sudden boldness. He removes his finger from her mouth, mumbling out a greedy girl as he leans down to wrap his lips around a nipple, moving his hand down to her mound.

At risk of her snapping at him again, he presses a thumb to her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. He begins to circle his thumb tightly, her muscles suddenly tightening underneath his grasp. Selfishly, he takes joy in watching her slowly crumble underneath him, her soft whimpers growing into moans when he dips his finger further down, circling her hole once, twice, before dipping in.

"H," she whined, her eyes screwed shut."What, bunny?"

"I— please, need your cock, no more teasing."

He stills his fingers inside of her, gently pulling them out. On any other day, maybe he would have persisted with the slow burn of pleasure, but he’s feeling just as desperate as her. He wraps his fist around the head of his cock, using strings of her arousal to slowly pump, relieving some of the built up pressure.

"Y'still good, baby?" he asks, resisting the groan at the tip of his tongue.

"Yes, daddy."

His head snaps up to see an arrogant smirk painted on her features. "Are you gonna fuck me now?"

This time, he finally does let out a moan.

Shuffling his knees forward, he rubs his cock against her core, painting the tip from her clit to her hole, up and down, until she wiggles her hips down. He smirks as she lets out a pathetic whine. Slowly, he pushes forward, the tip of my cock instantly encased by her tight walls. He hisses at the feeling and reaches down to grab her hip, his hand gripping her skin tightly.

"More," she chokes, nodding her head eagerly, "Please, more, daddy."

Once he knows that she’s not in any pain from the intrusion, he keeps going until his hips are flush against her warm skin, his cock buried deep inside of her. Her plush lips form a soft 'o' as she reaches forward to rake her nails down my chest, a silent plea to move.

"You feel so fucking good, bunny," he mutters out as he begins to snap my hips, slowly building a steady pace. He’s careful not to push her too quickly, but the fear of coming too fast is consistent in his brain. Despite sleeping with his fair share of people, he’s never felt so complete inside of someone. The way her pussy is so snug and tight around his cock makes him feel like an addict.

She’s a moaning mess beneath him, her fingernails pressing harshly into his back. Her eyes are wide and teary now, making him smirk as he lifts a finger to wipe the liquid away.

"Don' need to cry, babe, you're doing so good for me." he says, leaning down to pepper kisses over the surface of her face.

"Yeah?" She gasped, her hand snaking down the length of her body. Her fingertips quickly find her clit and he looks down to watch her make tight little circles into the skin.

"So fuckin' good," he mumbles, entranced by the sight of her touching herself, "y'gonna cum all over daddy's cock, angel girl?" She nods eagerly and he speeds up his thrusts, desperate to make her finish before he manages to explode. He can feel his muscles clenching, her pussy somehow getting even tighter with every movement.

"What do you need?" he grits out with a clenched jaw.

She’s moments away from finishing now; he can feel and see it, but he’s determined to push her over the edge. Swallowing harshly, her jaw drops as she mumbles out, "c-choke me, please."

Groaning, he wraps his hand around the column of her throat, pressing gently against her windpipe. He watches as her eyes roll back and feels the way her muscles instantly contract around his cock, triggering his own orgasm to approach. At the sounds of her moans, he quickly pulls out and pumps his cock twice before finishing all over her stomach and chest, a splatter of come painting itself on her soft skin. They’re both breathless and Harry resists the urge to completely collapse against the girl beneath him. He would have, if not for Y/N’s closed eyes as she catches her breath. In the silence of the moment, he takes in the appearance of her naked body covered in his come. Grimacing slightly at his softening prick, he grabs his boxers and shuffles them over his hips. He stands from the couch and straightens his posture when he hears a sleepy mumble from below. "Where are y'going?" "Gonna clean you up," Harry says softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, "be right back, 'kay, bunny?” Y/N asleep before he returns a few minutes later with a wet washcloth. He sits at the edge of the couch and gently runs it over her body, wiping away the remnants of their intimacy. Her eyes blink open when she realizes he’s returned, granting him a small, lazy smile. He returns it. “You did so good for me,” he murmurs, tossing the dirty cloth on the floor. He’ll throw it in the washing machine later, but right now, taking care of this sleepy, fucked out lump is the top priority. “Do you wanna go upstairs and change? Go to sleep in my bed?” She shakes her head. “Let’s sleep down here. Too tired to move.” And yeah, maybe Harry hasn’t slept on a couch since he was in his 20s because he has back problems. Yes, his hips will surely ache from sharing the space with the girl he’s been crushing on for months. Surely, they’ll shift positions multiple times throughout the night as they attempt to find something that’s semi-comfortable for the both of them. But he’ll do anything to see Y/N smile. “Sure, baby,” he replies, grabbing a soft throw blanket from the end of the couch. He wiggles himself into her side so he’s holding her from behind, tossing the cozy material over their bodies. “G’night. Lemme know if you need anything.”

She hums, and then it’s silent.

Harry allows his eyes to fall closed, sinking into the comfort of the warm girl beside him. It’s only then that he hears her inhale, followed by seven soft words: “I love you, Harry. I mean it.”

He tucks his face into her shoulder and hides the grin that stretches over his face.

“I love you, Y/N. I mean it.”

1K notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 2 months

Text

wait though because seriously. the boys share everything with each other.

(smut, be warned. this turned way too long thank @waves-against-a-cliff for this)

they share bedrolls and tents when they're stuck in the freezing cold during a mission.

they share canteens, mre's, cigarettes. (price is smoke snob so simon always carries a cigar or two for him)

they'll share a room in base when simon's not sleeping again due to his ptsd, or johnny's gone and gotten injured again. john slips into kyle's room sometimes just to remind himself that he didn't lose kyle when he fell out of the helo.

they share showers, too. sometimes in a safe house there's not enough hot water to go around 4 individuals, and other times they just need a hand that isn't their own wrapped around their neglected cocks. (simon mewls like a kitten when john fists him from behind, beard scraping on the junction of his shoulder as john gives him a peck or two on the neck)

they go on leave and stay together, too. simon and john are the ones who keep a home-- johnny and kyle sleep at whoever's they please; essentially living there as well.

then john gets a little bird, a sweet (much younger, simon notices) thing who's far too gentle and soft for gruff men like themselves, just a doting, kind girlfriend.

they share you too.

it hadn't really been hard to nudge you their direction, either. john's only ever sung praise of his crew, his boys.

johnny and kyle are the pretty ones-- it's completely normal that your eyes wandered from john to them when they visited. johnny's hand lingered a little too long on the small of your back when he needed to get past, the touch scalding even through your shirt, and kyle's gentle demeanor and warm smiles toward you never failed to get your heart racing. they were easily game.

simon had been a bit more of a challenge.

he'd been jealous of you, at first. of course someone full of life such as yourself would capture his captain's heart. a bright, burning star in comparison to him, a stellar remnant. he'd seethed when johnny had taken a picture of the both you and john asleep on the couch, him partially lying atop of you with his head firmly on your chest. simon can't even have light weight on him as he sleeps, lest he dreams that he's underground again, dirt clogging his mouth and nose as he claws himself back to the world of the living.

but john knows him better than he knows himself, and he'd nipped that issue in the bud-- slinked into simon's room in base and reassured him with a hand curled under his jaw that there is enough of him for everyone, and now you, too.

"what's mine is yours, simon. and that little morsel back home is mine."

john only brought it up the once, and how eager you'd been. so receptive to the idea of treating his boys the way they deserve. they haven't had much good in their life, he'd purred, but you'll be good, won't you?

yes, you'd jerkily nodded, so good, i swear.

they had you watch them first, just to not overwhelm you. meager handjobs and suggestive kisses to flushed skin. whispered promises of what's to come, playful nips to the ear. it went well enough, john observing how you rubbed your thighs together whenever one of them finally peaked over their own stomach.

then you interrupted their session, one day, asking if you could try to give one of them a hand (ha). the last time he came that hard, kyle had touched him under the table in a restaurant, in front of decent company.

he'd even spurted cum all the way up to his collarbone.

it upgraded quickly after that, any self doubt all but gone under their touch. fingers sunk and curled inside your throbbing cunt, squelching with each movement. john sat behind you, keeping you somewhat upright so you could just focus on their attention. johnny's warm mouth laved at your stiff nipple and kyle swallowed all of your moans.

johnny went first, rambunctious man that he was. he flipped you onto your knees and hilted in one smooth stroke. john stood by your side the entire time, his hands brushing away the damp hair that stuck to your forehead. "doin' so good, love." johnny's grip around your waist had been the only thing that kept you from sprawling forward with each heavy thrust.

kyle had gone next, and what you'd thought would've been a sensual missionary ended up being a devastating missionary press. he pushed your knees to your chest, feeling the air rush out of your lungs. when he bottomed out, john had hissed above you. "made a proper mess there, johnny. there's not enough room for kyle when she's stuffed full of you."

"i'm not sorry, sir," was his cheeky reply.

johnny's spend had been forcibly pushed out when kyle pushed in.

his length was in your throat as he took you and he gave you no respite, just a constant drag of his cock along your sensitive nerves. your mind was scrambled, unable to form a single coherent thought. his fingers dug into the soft meat of your thighs when he came.

simon chose to be last, because you'd be warmed up and slick enough to take him without much discomfort.

wrong.

even with him on his back, you choosing how fast or slow the coupling went, it'd stung. it was an invasion, a searing ache in between your legs, inside your core once you sat flush on his thighs.

simon's hands tightened around your hips, and grunted. "alrigh' getter off. she's clearly in pain--"

"no! i'm just sensitive, is all. i just need a little time to get accustomed."

his face showed disbelief, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed but john was quick to assuage the situation. "you heard her, simon. she can take it." john turned to you and cradled your face in his hands. "can't you, love?"

'course you could. you promised to be good, after all.

kyle came from behind and wrapped his own hands around your waist, canting them forward, simon's length going so much deeper, and a sharp breath escaped you.

"there ya go, doll. much better now, yeah?"

you rolled your hips slowly, testing the waters. underneath the pulse of pain, was pleasure, crawling up your spine, dripping slick down the base of simon's cock.

finally.

leaning forward, you placed your palms on his sweat-slick barrel chest and began to ride him with fervor. john threaded his fingers through simon's hair and tugged harshly, a ragged moan falling from his lips. it hadn't been much longer after, which you are grateful for because you were about to pray to the gods that your hips hold out with how fiercely they burned with effort.

john had kissed your temple in the end, praising how well you did and to not worry about him, this was more than enough.

aftercare had been a long, drawn out process that had your eyes heavy with sleep, and chest warm with affection.

they left you asleep, exhausted, curled up in john's oversized bed and simon was the one to drag them all into the guest bedroom because john hadn't come once tonight.

when he tried to protest, kyle huffed and cut him off with a wave of his hand. "we take care of each other, captain, and now it's your turn."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut #task force 141 #poly!141

1K notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 3 months

Text

PROMPTS FOR THE FORCED PROXIMITY TROPE * assorted dialogue for the moments and circumstances that force two characters to spend time together, adjust as necessary

who said i agreed to any of this?

i said i would help you. i didn't say i would be nice to you while i'm helping you.

you scratch my back and i'll scratch yours.

oh no. don't tell me it's locked.

i was hired to protect you. that's my job.

i'm actually starting to tolerate you, believe it or not.

i don't want to be stuck here with you.

i'll work with anyone but you.

i'm not letting you sleep on the floor.

they're forcing me to work with you and i don't like it.

how long do you think we'll be stuck here?

is that the only tent we have?

i think we're snowed in here. we'd better find a way to stay warm.

it's going to take a few days for them to reach us.

you sleep in that room, and i'll take this one.

you can't get rid of me that easily.

i'm just going to come right out and say it - i hate being here just as much as you do, but we have to make this work.

don't get any ideas.

i'm going to see if they'll switch my room.

until you came along, i had this under control.

if we're going to survive this, we'd better work together.

why did they sit me next to you?

i'd like to be as far away from you as possible.

out of all the people in the world, i had to get stuck with you.

guess you're just gonna have to get over it.

i thought you were worse than this.

i'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.

you're not exactly my favorite person to be around.

well, get used to it. i'm not leaving.

i told them i don't need a bodyguard.

i never wanted to spend this much time with you.

all this time spent together has really opened my eyes.

you're not as bad as i thought you were.

we might as well try to get along.

i guess i should learn a little bit about you.

i think that means we're the only ones left.

there's no way i'm sharing a room with you.

you again? i've seen enough of you already.

i thought [name] was coming. why are you here?

they're counting on us to save them.

since we'll be here for a while... might as well make the best out of it.

i think we can set aside our differences for two minutes and work this out.

honestly, i think i was wrong about you at first.

there's absolutely no way i'm working with you.

fine, but you're sleeping on the floor. i'll take the bed.

as your bodyguard, i'm supposed to stay with you at all times.

i think we're snowed in for a while.

you could always sleep on this side of the bed.

we have to at least pretend we like each other.

the whole point in having a bodyguard is for me to keep you safe.

i don't like asking for your help, but here i am, asking.

you and i are the only ones who can deal with this.

you don't have a say in the matter.

looks like we're stuck here.

just sleep in the bed with me. i'll even make a pillow wall between us.

i'm not sharing a tent with you.

i need you to stay out of my way.

could you at least "guard" me from over there? why do you have to stand so close?

1K notes · View notes

rosepascal · 4 months

Text

I'm a feminist obviously || Joel Miller x Reader

I'm a feminist obviously But I wouldn't really mind him savin' me And I know that I'm fine without a man But I think I would like his protection - Prison for Life (Olivia Rodrigo)

Warnings: protective!Joel, he calls you baby girl, reader gets attacked by an asshole guy. Mentions of a fight. Low key dark Joel because he ain't letting that slide. violence, blood, cursing.

a/n: I heard this on tik tok and it just SCREAMS Joel miller sooooo. A good protective Joel fic <3

The town of Jackson wasn't exactly fond of you and Joel. Let's just say the rumors that started when you first showed up have spread amongst the town members and well, no one cares that they're just rumors.

Safe to say that when you walk through the town center that you aren't just imagining people whispering and staring you down as you walk past them. The only thing you can do is roll your eyes and keep going.

Please, like everyone in this town is free of blood on their hands.

The small general store worker refuses to meet your eyes as you pay for your groceries.

"H-Have a nice day." He says timidly as you stare at him stone faced. At this point you don't even try to change any ones mind. Still at least this kid isn't shooting you a dirty look. You nod and head out the door.

"Is that the Miller's bitch I see." Just your luck. Out of the corner of your eye you see Elijah Davis. Resident Jackson asshole.

Though most people who had a distaste for you and Joel, they stayed out of your way. Elijah was different. He was stupid. See Elijah used to be the big man in Jackson. Self proclaimed best hunter, best shooter. A real tough guy. Always led patrols and that kind of thing really got to his head.

When Joel came around well, they may not like Joel but you can't deny his skills when it comes to survival. Joel brought home the biggest catch, he shot down the most clickers. He saved the most lives and Elijah turned bitter. He just couldn't give it up

"I'm talking to you."

"Fuck off." You hiss at him. You turn so fast he flinches and it makes you smile.

"Seriously, this shit is getting old. Go cry to someone who gives a fuck." On most days he was all bark and no bite but today was different. You feel a harsh tug on your arm as you're pulled into a small side alley. He jams his forearm into your neck and pushes you against a wall.

"I'm getting real sick of you. Acting tough when all you are is Joel millers toy. Bet you keep his bed real warm." He spits angrily. The pressure on your neck gets worse as black dots swarm your vision. You drop your bag and claw his eyes as hard as you can.

"Fuck!" He screams as he lets go of you. Land on your feet but the lack of air causes you to wobble.

"Eat shit." You kick him hard in the side and he tackles you to the ground.

The left side of your face erupts in pain as he punches you hard. He doesn't let up and you do your best to defend yourself the way you learned back in the QZ.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" Elijah freezes as he hears the voice of Tommy Miller. Though you've got a bust lip and blood spilling from your mouth you smile.

"You're screwed now." You knee him hard right in the balls and he topples over in pain. Before Tommy could pull you off him you get in one last kick to the jaw.

"That's enough, both of you." He gently pulls you back as someone else pulls Elijah up from the ground. He's still groaning in pain and man is that music to your ears.

"What happened?" Tommy asks as you wipe the blood away from your mouth.

"He attacked me, I defended myself." Though Tommy was Joel's brother he was also Maria's husband and Maria didn't like violence inside the walls of Jackson. She meant business. She even scared Joel a little. You bend down to pick up what's left of your groceries and stuff them in your pockets.

"Look, I know how it goes, I'll pay the fine or work extra hours blah blah, See you Sunday for dinner." Your face aches as you walk.

The only thing you want now is a warm bath and a nap. You don't hear Joel as you walk inside and for once that's a good thing. Ellie appears at the back door ready to show something when her face scrunches up.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"What?!" You hear Joel's voice come from behind her and you sigh.

"Thanks Ellie." Joel storms in the house.

His eyes frantically looking around until they land on you. Particularly on your fucked up face. His eyes turn dark as he orders Ellie to go outside. She leaves but not before mouthing Good Luck to you. He's like predator the way he walks up to you. His mouth twitching as anger swirls in his eyes.

"Who did this to you?" He gently tips your head up. It scares you how calm he is right now.

"Joel he was just being-"

"He? It was Elijah wasn't it." He growled lowly.

Sighing you know you can't hide it from him forever. He clenches his jaw and leaves to go to the medicine cabinet. With a clean rag he wipes away the dried blood and patches you up as best he can. Unfortunately most of your injuries will just have to heal on its own.

"M'gonna go take a bath." You stretch your arms out and wince slightly as you tilt your neck. Joel clocks it immediately.

"You need anything baby girl?"

"No, I'm okay." He kisses the top of your head and waits for you to go upstairs.

Once he hears the water running he grabs his rifle and leaves. It's like the townspeople can see the steam coming out of his ears. Joel's got a murderous look on his face as he storms through the town.

"Joel!" He glances to see Tommy chasing after him but he doesn't stop. He goes right to the little town hall and storms into Maria's. She looks unamused as he slams the door open.

"Where is he?!" Joel slams his hands on her desk.

"Doctors, pretty beat up and still crying about it." She doesn't even need to ask, she knows why he's here.

"I'm gonna kill em."

"No you aren't."

"If you think-"

"Joel!" Maria stands and stares him down. He's angry, seething with rage at the thought of that punk little shit laying a hand on you.

"I know you're angry, so am I. He's to blame here and he will be punished to the full extent of the law." She says calmly.

"So what? He gets thrown in jail for a couple days? Has to do extra patrols? Give up dessert?"

"I know you're angry, but don't do anything you'll regret. I can't protect you from the law forever Joel." She can't lose Joel, he's a valuable member of the community and he's family.

He clenches his fists and nods his head. Tommy appears and walks out with him. Trying to talk him out of what ever plan he's got brewing in his head. He knows that Joel won't back down that easy.

"He hurt her, I warned him that if he ever touched her he was a dead man." Joel smirks as he passes the doctors. Outside is Elijah bandages all over his face and a scared look in his eyes when he sees Joel.

Count your days motherfucker.

Joel disappears for a week. Out on a supply run alone and god did it make you nervous. He kissed you sweet before he left. Promised he'd come back. His fingers traced your face. Trying to be as gentle as he can around the sore spots.

"I love you." He mumbles quietly, "You know I'd do anything for you." You hum and kiss him again.

"I know," You can handle yourself, you've proved that time and time again you know how to protect yourself.

But with Joel you don't always have to. Knowing he'd burn down anything in his path for you means the world. Because you'd do the same.

You see Elijah once or twice in town while Joel's gone. He's on double patrol duty before his trial. Then he just, disappears. At first you don't notice it but then you hear whispers around town. A patrol went out with 4 and came back with 3.

When Joel comes back you tell him. Elijah's trial was yesterday and he never showed. They went to his room and he wasn't there. All his things were but he wasn't.

He was just, gone.

A few days later Tommy comes knocking on your door.

"Joel here?" You nod and call Joel down.

"It's been a week and no one's found Elijah. So it seems his trial is postponed indefinitely."

"Okay, thanks for coming to tell us." You squeeze Joel's hand and he just stays quiet. Tommy looks at Joel and deep down all three of you know exactly what happened with Elijah. But there's no proof and Tommy isn't going to turn over his own brother.

"Dinner next week?" You ask and he nods.

"I'm sure Maria would love to catch up." When he leaves you turn to Joel.

"Joel...If they ever found out-"

"I don't care."

"I do!" Your voice raises for a second before you stop yourself from shouting.

"Joel I won't let you jeopardize anything for me."

"Well that's too damn bad." He gets up and walks over to you. He cups your face and stares at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

"Baby girl, he hurt you." Joel would risk it all for you. Death, prison, anything. He kisses you gently as to not hurt your still healing lip.

"Nobody messes with my girl."

In a world like this you need to be able to survive, to fight and to make the hard decisions. But sometimes it's exhausting. Constantly protecting yourself wears you down. You know you can but you don't mind the idea of being protected by someone else.

You know you should hate the violence, the fierceness of his actions and words. But you don't. How could you when he's all you ever wanted.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #protective!Joel miller

2K notes · View notes

akawrites000 · 5 months

Text

casually caring for someone (2) - a prompt list

one handing the other their jacket because they're feeling cold. "are you cold? here, take my jacket."

B's jacket looks too big on A, making them look more smaller than they are. 'they're adorable', B thinks. A looks at them a little cluelessly, struggling to wear it properly. B just sighs, fond, and helps them out.

A and B introducing each other to new experiences, making each other's lives more fulfilling. "here, I got this for you"; "do you want to go there with me?"

A knows B loves sweets so gets them sweets from their hometown and B looks like Christmas came early. "are all of these for me? you're the best!!" A just smiles fondly at them, nodding happily.

A and B go out with B's friend, who walks a little too quickly. A can't really keep up, but they try, not wanting to bring it up and make the third person feel uncomfortable. B notices, walks slower to match A's pace and gently alerts their friend - "hey C, can we walk a little slower?"

one invites the other over to an activity that they know they'll like, to cheer them up, make them smile or just to spend more time with them.

giving each other compliments that go beyond the surface/looks, choosing to compliment them about their personality. "I like the way you pour your heart into everything you do"; " i don't know what it is that you're doing, but keep doing what you're doing - just keep being yourself"; "I'm able to be myself with you and it feels nice."

one staying back after their lecture to wait for the other (and sometimes pretending that they weren't waiting for a long time, to not make the other feel guilty).

A wants to host B for a change because B does that for them all the time. They're seriously amazed and in awe of B's ability to host, that they become nervous when the time comes. "hey, relax, I came here for you, so you should just be yourself."

A and B hang out at a common friend's house, and B chooses to leave earlier than A. Before they go, they make sure to tell their friend, "please make sure A gets home early and safe."

A and B go to shop for some clothes, and A waits for B right outside the dressing room while they're trying on their clothes. When B comes out, a pleasant smile pulls on their lips to see A still waiting for them. "It's your turn now," B says, placing a gentle hand on A's shoulder, "I'll wait for you right here."

A considers themselves as a soft-spoken person, they don't really raise their voice and because of that, they often feel like they're not heard, or like they have to say something more than once to be heard. it makes them really insecure and they try to be louder, but it's still hard for them to do it most of the time. B always hears them though; reacts even when A calls out for them only once and it never fails to warm A's heart.

When A and B are part of group discussions, one always makes sure that the other is heard / has a chance to give their opinions. "Hey A, what do you think about this?"; "I think B hasn't had a chance to give their opinion yet".

(y'all really seemed to like this one a lot, so here's a part 2! I hope you'll enjoy this one too <3 thank you for all the love and support 💗)

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #prompts #writing prompts #fluff prompts #writing ideas #otp prompts #imagine your otp #prompts for friends #soft #soft prompts #fluff #caring prompts #caring #prompt list #dialogue prompts #descriptive prompts #romance prompts #writing inspo

2K notes · View notes

total-dxmure · 3 months

Text

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER THREE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: here we are, the meat and potatoes. the fic is really kicking off. . . and they're already flirting?! ellie is so touch and affection starved that she nearly jumps out of her own skin every time you even look at her.)

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

In that halfway space between waking and sleep it was hard to discern what was real and what wasn’t. Your bed felt warm, sheets still tangled around your arms and legs. The weight of your blanket on your chest could easily be confused with another’s body, and so you felt yourself smile. Warm, happy, safe-

Abby was behind you, her limbs expertly twisted around yours like she’d done it a thousand times before. . . and she had.

Slowly you opened your eyes, staring blankly ahead of you into your pitch black bathroom. You recognized the fresh scent of your shampoo, and felt the way your hair still clung to your hot cheeks- wet from your shower the night before. It was like you were suspended in a memory, everything all soft and fuzzy around you. The dots weren’t perfectly connecting, and still you were happy. For a second you just laid there, unable to look down at the hand you could feel so vividly at your waist. Would you see Abby’s knuckles when you looked down? Would you see the rubber promise ring she had insisted on wearing? Everything always had to be even and fair with her.

This morning felt familiar. Like you’d lived it before. Your breath left you in a rush when the bed creaked behind you.

“Abby,” God, she was back. She was back and she was right behind you. “Baby?”

There was a soft groan and then the arm tightened, bringing you into a warm chest. Her bicep squeezed your arm tightly against her shoulder, and all at once you were tucked in so tight. Confusion tugged at your features, and you mulled over exactly why you were clinging to her arm so tightly.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered against your hair, her voice still thick with sleep. Still, her fingers stroked at your bare stomach.

“I had a nightmare,” You mumbled, trying to recall exactly what had plagued you just seconds ago. You can’t remember now that you’re safe here. . . safe with Abby again. “You were gone and I was all alone.”

Those moments came back to you in flashes. The ache, the constant pain of losing her, the “learning to live without her” that crushed you entirely. You turned around in her grasp, nuzzling your nose into the crook of her neck. You took deep inhales, trying to still your rising panic. You could feel the steady beating of her heart against your cheek, the warmth of her bare breasts against your collar bones.

“I was gone?” She raised a hand, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a few golden strands falling onto her forehead as she moved her head against the pillow beneath her. “You can tell me about it if you want.” She offered supportively, petting your back in slow circles.

You don’t know why. . . but you missed those circles. It felt like you’d been without them for weeks. Months.

“I-I got a phone call. . . and they told me that you’d died,” Your bottom lip quivered, your eyes filling with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at your unnecessary hysterics. Abby was right here. Everything was okay. “It felt like the longest nightmare I’ve ever had. It was horrible.”

“You did so good though.” She whispered, her hands still stroking.

Your muscles tensed, and slowly you moved your hand up her side, fingers brushing against her skin. You pressed a soft kiss against the underside of her breast, a tear breaking free past your lower lashes. This moment suddenly felt fleeting.

“I did?” You questioned, pulling away to look at her.

She was so beautiful. Like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right in your bed. The sun was just beginning to rise, setting the line of trees just outside of your window ablaze. She was diaphanous and golden laying there beneath you. You were so lucky. You could barely breathe when she looked up at you like that, her eyes so thick with pride and love.

“You did, baby girl. You stayed so strong.” She cracked a small smile, but it looked pained. Like she was also realizing that the two of you couldn’t exist here forever. “I need you to keep it up though, alright?” You couldn’t feel her hand on your back anymore, nor the softness of the sheets.

“Please,” You sobbed out, reaching out to cup her cheek. She didn’t feel like anything. Like your hand was molded around a pocket of open space. Nothingness. She was about the size of the palm of your hand now, her urn sitting on the mantle in your living room. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Her blue eyes stared up at you, proud and unwavering in their convictions, as they always were. . . always had been. “I’m never far. Pinky.” Promise.

And then you were in your bed again, the alarm on your phone blaring.

“Abby?” You mumbled, and you didn’t have to turn over to realize you were alone.

Ellie was good at putting pressure on herself. It had always been a form of motivation, as cruel as it seemed. She couldn’t let today be awful. No episodes or meltdowns and no long bouts of silence. You were pretty and it really seemed like you could use a friend.

Ellie could use a friend too.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown interest in a girl. She’d always been career driven with a one track mind. She was good at overworking herself and running herself dry. She hoped that you’d be able to use that to your benefit today. Ellie wanted to lose herself in something. . . in someone. She wanted to be useful for the first time in what felt like a long, long while.

So she woke up at the butt crack of dawn and took a shower. She kept her eyes shut tight as she washed herself and didn’t even bother to towel dry her hair before she was pulling on an outfit. Thick droplets of water stained the shoulders of her jean button up as she tied up the laces on her boots. She focused on one shoe at a time, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Every once and a while her brain would wander, hellbent on self destruction, but with a small groan she’d remember the sadness in your eyes.

She’d remember who she was before the accident.

She moved down the stairs as quietly as she could, praying that Joel’s dog wouldn’t start barking once he realized that his new best friend was leaving the house. The keys to her old car were on the rack beside the front door, right next to Joel’s flashy new pair. He’d told Ellie over dinner that he’d been maintaining the beat up old Jeep the best that he could, meaning she at least had a little bit of freedom while she was back home.

She locked the door behind her, the cool morning breeze stinging against her wet ears as she gracelessly stumbled down the stairs, juggling the bulky set of keys in her hand. A huge metal spaceship that Joel had stuffed into her Christmas stocking senior year, a neon green carabiner she’d bought at one of the gas stations closest to her school, and a few other childish charms that she couldn’t place any meaning behind swung from the nearly ancient keychain. Her sense of self expression and style back in those days was tacky to say the least, but she appreciated child-Ellie nonetheless.

“You poor child.” She teased under her breath, climbing into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. She sucked in a breath and held it before cranking it up.

To her surprise, the clunker started right up, though the engine shook the steering wheel a little when she put the thing in reverse down the driveway. She hadn’t driven a car since that night at the gas station. It felt a little weird to be behind the wheel, but even stranger to be back here. Jackson was a beautiful place. . . but it didn’t feel the same way that it had before. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her age or the changes that were happening inside of her. The streets still looked the same, aside from some very minor changes to neighbor's houses. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings when Joel had driven her through town yesterday, and she was a bit scared to see the differences. She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts or do any soul searching, so she reached out for the radio, pressing play on whatever CD had been shoved into it last.

Depeche mode began to blast over the speakers, and she let out a small sigh of relief. At least her music taste wasn’t horrible in high school.

But it was no wonder she didn’t have a girlfriend. Ellie wouldn’t have dated little Ellie either, that was for sure.

She felt a bit crazy to be driving in the opposite direction of town. Back when she lived here, town was the only place she was headed when she was allowed out of the house. It was no wonder why the two of you had never really crossed paths. She used to complain about how far off in the “middle of nowhere” Joel lived, but your farm had his ranch beat by fifteen minutes. The houses got fewer and farther in between, and despite how much Ellie truly did enjoy the city, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the countryside was. The sprawling fields, grazing animals, and splattering of wild flowers had her rolling down the windows of her car, ignoring the chill so that she could get a better look of her surroundings.

Even the air quality was better in Jackson.

She’d been down this road a few times in her life, having been in the backseat of Joel’s car every single time. She recognized your home from her memories, but your last name didn’t mean much to her back then. She slowed her car down to a crawl, staring at the large sign that sported your family name proudly.

Ellie would be proud of the farm too if it were hers. She bumped down the drive five minutes earlier than you had told her to show up, staring with wide eyes at your house. It was two stories with a balcony- white with green shutters. The wrap around porch was screened in, protecting you and any guests you might have over from bugs that thrive in the summertime heat.

Your stretch of land belonged on a painting, and for a second she worried if maybe she wasn’t the right friend for you. This house was too nice and Ellie. . . Ellie wasn’t very nice at all. She'd only talked to you for five minutes yesterday, but she got the feeling that you were a "good girl". You were wholesome, which wasn't how anyone in Ellie's life would choose to describe her. She slowly made her way up your front steps, and for a second she wondered if she should leave. It would probably be better if she did. Ellie could always just lie and tell Joel that she couldn’t find your house. . . he’d probably drop it after insulting her about her bad sense of direction.

Ellie couldn’t afford to get a crush on anyone right now either. It was horrible timing, and what would be worse is if you actually ever returned those feelings. How was she supposed to explain to you that she wouldn’t ever make a good partner? She couldn’t protect you from anything, not when any loud sounds or bright lights had her falling to her knees. She was careerless, depressed to the point where she had completely lost who she was, had a drinking problem, and was quite certain that she’d combust the second you’d touch her. She was touch and attention starved, but hadn’t remembered that she was even able to desire someone until she’d seen you yesterday-

You’d be dodging a bullet if she hightailed it right off of your property. So she turned on her heel and stared at her boots as she began walking back down your stairs. Her feet kicked up dirt as she made her way back to her jeep, hand already reaching into her pocket for her keys-

“Did I not hear you knocking on the door?” A feminine voice called out to her.

She sucked in a breath so hard that she let out a loud cough, eyes widening as she turned around to face the porch. You were wearing a pair of dirt stained jeans today, though your hair was fastened back with a white bow. Ellie, despite her previous need to protect you from herself, couldn’t fight off the urge to get closer. There was something different about you today. You were a bit manic, your hands already busying themselves with straightening out a few of the potted plants on your porch. You seemed a bit anxious, but you didn’t comment on it so neither did Ellie. Any boundaries you had yesterday with her were gone. You flashed her a wide smile, sauntering up the drive so that you could wrap her up in a tight hug.

Your arms were shaking as they weaved around her neck, pulling her in close. She froze, limbs locking up in surprise as she tried to fully grasp what was going on. You were treating her like an old friend, someone you were excited to see. Ellie didn’t know why you’d be so happy to see her. . . but then again, she was happy to see you. She remembered what Joel had said last night.

Maybe you were sick and tired of being alone.

Your bare arms were cold too- freezing as her fingers accidentally brushed the backs of them. Ellie realized that she had gotten here just in time. If anything, she cursed herself for not showing up twenty minutes earlier, if only to save you from whatever had you this shaken up.

“I probably knocked too quietly. Should have knocked louder, huh?” She mumbled, biting the inside of her cheek as she gave you a gentle squeeze.

She wasn’t used to holding someone like this that wasn’t Dina or Jesse. You felt nice in her arms. Your muscles weren’t hard or rigid like hers, you were all soft and rounded edges. Gentle curves and arms ready and willing to embrace her. Flushed cheeks and silk bows. You smelled wonderful too- sweet and floral, like Jasmine mixed with honey. She didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t seem ready to end the hug either.

You were still quivering.

“Yeah, you should have.” You agreed, giving Ellie one last squeeze before taking a few unsteady steps back.

You hadn’t been completely sure whether or not she would show up today. Waking up this early was a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone you had just met yesterday. Still, a part of you had hoped that she would be here. On days that were this bad you found it impossible to work, no matter how busy it kept you. You often spent “mental health days” laid out by Abby’s grave or buried six feet under pillows and blankets in what used to be your shared bed.

Ellie’s presence changed things.

So you squared off your shoulders and cracked her a wide smile, praying that it looked genuine and not forced.

“Let’s hop in my truck and I’ll take you on a little tour of the property before we get started.” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the woman take a few steps closer to you.

Ellie looked like she wanted to say something but was holding herself back. You weren’t sure whether or not you would be able to handle her prying or the pity that would follow.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, wishing so deeply that you hadn’t woken up at all this morning. Ellie was beautiful- gorgeous even. You would have been head over heels if you had met her years ago, before. . . well, before Abby happened. Still, her beauty wasn't enough to completely distract you from your grief. A part of you felt guilty for even finding her attractive as you slid into the front seat of the truck.

Maybe that was why you’d had such a strange dream last night. Or maybe. . . maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe it really was Abby trying to tell you that it was okay to move on. That was confusing to even think about, and it made you count the months since her death on both of your hands, trying to gauge if enough time really had passed. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, but the thought of being in love with anyone seemed like an impossibility. Everything was broken. How could you ever love anyone the same way that you loved Abby? You’d just be doing that other person a disservice.

That’s right, you were cursed.

You could feel Ellie’s gaze on the side of your face as you made your way down the dirt road, up towards the hen houses. You blinked a few times, the apples of your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Slowly you met her gaze, lips twitching up in a small smile as she quickly looked away from you, nervous over having been caught.

“My dad built ten large coops, so this whole fenced-in area right here is where the chickens graze.” You stopped the car and put it in park, keeping the old thing running like you usually did during your quick morning chores. Sometimes the poor truck had a hard time starting back up, and you’d probably burst into tears if your newfound friend had to walk a half mile back to the house with you.

“Do you guys have any problems with foxes?” She asked, keeping up with your fast pace as you unlatched the front of the fence for the both of you.

Your nose wrinkled in disgust, and you were quick to throw your arms up exasperatedly.

“Oh god, do we! I had to get someone out here to change out the fence just six months ago because one of those little fuckers had somehow managed to dig it’s way into their area. Killed seven of my poor girls.” You remembered how angry you were when you’d pulled up to the coops that morning. Burying seven dead hens wasn’t a pleasant experience for you, but it wasn’t something that was new. Still, you hated knowing that they’d suffered in their final moments.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Ellie looked around the area, finding it impossible not to notice how well kept everything was. The coops were freshly painted, the grass was gorgeous and plush- bright green under her feet. Truly, your farm was an oasis. She’d never seen anything quite like it before, and you'd barely even started the tour.

“Can I hold one?” She asked meekly, smiling up at you shyly as you turned to look at her. You didn’t exactly take her as the type of girl that would want to hold a chicken, but you were happy to oblige her.

“One of my mamas just hatched a few chicks. Would you want to hold-”

“Yes.” She quickly added, jogging off in the direction that you were pointing, eager to hold anything tiny and fluffy that you had to offer.

You were shocked at the laugh that bubbled its way out of your chest. A genuine, good natured laugh that you found hard to contain as she began impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for you to catch up.

“Didn’t take you for a chicken lover, city girl.” You teased, unlatching the door for her so that she could make her way inside.

The hens squawked excitedly at your appearance, realizing they’d be able to eat their fill of grass, bugs, and dried corn. A few ran over, crowding at your ankles. Rows and rows of nests were lined up along the walls. In the back of the coop were a few small rectangular doors that you could open, which was what you used to harvest eggs. Your dad’s old coops didn’t have anything fancy like that, so you grew up having your hands pecked at. You used to run back home to your mother with blood bruises and angry, raised skin.

“I love chicks.” Ellie said simply and the double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

As if on cue one of the chickens began pecking at the woman’s ankles, earning a small hiss of surprise from her. You snorted, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t laugh at her expense. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual, apparently.” You added playfully, looking around for the yellow poof balls.

“Old news.” She was smiling at you, and something in your chest began doing awful, uncomfortable flips. For a second you even felt a bit nauseous.

Ellie wasn’t Abby, but there was something similar about the two of them. The short haired girl seemed capable and strong. There was a physical sort of confidence in the way that she walked that told you that she knew how to handle herself. You watched as she shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders squared off, feet shoulder length apart- and it had your lips parting.

Still, you remembered Joel talking about his daughter. . . saying that she was military. You couldn’t remember which branch she belonged to, but you could tell that she was well trained. You tried to imagine what Ellie would look like if she was put in a situation where she needed to protect herself, and you found a shiver running up your spine.

There was a coldness that had been in her eyes when the two of you had first met that had chilled you to the bone. You saw none of it when you looked into her eyes now, but. . . still. . . the thought terrified you. Had those capable hands ever killed anyone before?

You felt horrible even thinking that, even going as far as to give your thigh a small slap in punishment as you bent down, knees digging into the wood shavings and hay. The chicks didn’t seem off put by your small scowl. They saw you and instantly thought “food”, which had them clumsily running in your direction. You hadn’t heard her walk up beside you, only felt the sleeve of her long sleeve shirt brush against your arm as she sat back on her haunches beside you.

“It won’t scare them if I pick them up, will it?” She asked gently, slowly reaching a hand out so that she could brush it against their plush down feathers. They chirped contentedly, unaware of what “danger” even meant yet. You were guilty of babying your chickens, meaning none of them were scared of humans. They pecked at you when they were annoyed, but were never violent per say.

“Not at all. They might seem a bit unhappy, but it’s only because they’re hungry.”

You pressed your hand to your cheek as you watched the woman pick one of the chicks up, holding the tiny thing tightly against her chest so as to not drop it. There was something almost comical about seeing the woman look this gentle, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried not to hurt the tiny thing. It was adorable. Which was terrifying for you.

You were once again reminded of your dream. . . and you didn’t think you were ready to let Abby go. Not even when Ellie looked up at you excitedly, using her free hand to gesture towards the small creature in disbelief. Almost like she was scared that even talking would frighten it.

“So what do we do now?” Ellie asked, putting the chick down so that she could stand back up. You followed her lead, making your way back over towards the door.

“We open up all the doors and let them walk around for the day. I usually come back and get them back in their coops by sundown.” You let her know, leaving the door wide open as you moved coop to coop.

Ellie helped you, cutting down the time in half. The two of you were back in the truck in record time. You showed her the fields where you planted corn in the late summer to get ready for early fall. You pointed out the small flower garden you had taken upon yourself to cultivate, and then you pulled up to the green houses. Her jaw went slack as she took in all of the buildings.

“You do all of this yourself?” She needed to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Sure, she was no farmer, but even someone like her knew just how much work this must be for you.

She couldn’t imagine you doing this all day, every day all by yourself. It kinda made her chest ache a bit for you. So when you nodded she took it upon herself to climb out of the truck, eager to do something to lighten the burden for you.

As the two of you approached what appeared to be the oldest of the greenhouses, she couldn’t help but realize that she’d been with you for about an hour. . . and she felt great. Better than great, she felt normal. She had been sent out here so that she could recover, and while she didn’t quite understand what that really and truly meant, being here with you felt right. Being around the animals felt therapeutic, and while Joel might have told you a little bit about her in passing, you didn’t know enough about Ellie to pass any sort of judgment or feel any sort of pity.

Even so, Ellie wasn’t sure she’d be against telling you about what happened. Something told her that you would be understanding. You knew what it felt like to lose people, and she was sure that you had regrets somewhere along the line. Everyone does when it comes to losing loved ones.

She hated that you had suffered enough to understand where she was coming from, but loved that she wasn’t alone for once.

The two of you walked in silence, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that let her know that you were thinking about something serious and sad. Ellie wondered whether your father was on your mind this morning. . . or perhaps your girlfriend. It wasn’t her place to ask, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

“Want to help me water them?” You finally asked, motioning towards the tables of plants.

She nodded, but quickly turned to face you. She couldn’t count how many green houses you had on top of this one.

“Do we water all of those plants too?” She felt stupid the second that she asked the question, but even more so when you began to giggle.

Sounding stupid was worth it to hear the sound, so she sucked it up.

“Those green houses are newer and have a built in sprinkler system. We just have to worry about this one, thankfully. We’d be here all afternoon if not.” You began to head in the direction of the hose so that you could turn it on, your stomach tightening with hunger.

You knew the second you got back to the house and made breakfast that you’d be nauseous though. Bad days like this were always the same. You were hungry but you couldn’t eat. You wanted to distract yourself but nothing would work. You wanted to talk to someone but didn’t have any friends that you trusted enough to actually. . . onload on, and you were sick of your mom crying on your behalf.

“So you’re staying with Joel now? For how long?” You decided to make small talk as you handed her the hose, walking along with her as she painstakingly paid attention to every sprout.

She licked her lips before answering you, eyes flickering in a way that made you think that she might feel a bit nervous.

“I was. . . sent here. It’s not like I don’t love being home, because I kinda do. It’s just not something that I exactly chose for myself.” That didn’t feel like the whole truth, but you supposed that she would tell you whenever she was ready.

You played with the raw hem of your old t-shirt, suddenly anxious that you might have put her in a bad spot. Still, you found yourself wanting to know more about her.

“Do you have an addiction problem?” You realized how inappropriate it was to be so blunt. Your mouth went bone dry with panic, and you were quick to grab her hand, shaking your head. “A-All I’m trying to say is that my uncle had a really bad drug problem for years. He’s been clean and sober since last Christmas and is doing great. I don’t judge, that’s all. I’m proud of you, if anything.”

She gulped, looking down at your hand and noticing how close your body was to hers now. She fumbled to turn the hose off with one hand, trying to get her breathing under control. It was twice now that you were touching her like this, and she hated herself for wanting to wrap you back up in a hug so bad. She was also trying not to notice how plush and kissable your lips were.

You smelled great too, which made it hard for Ellie to think.

“Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an addiction problem,” She mumbled, but shrugged her shoulders soon after, contradicting herself. “But that’s not really why I’m here.”

Ellie would have to tell you eventually, she supposed. If the two of you were going to be as good of friends as Joel wanted, then she’d have to fess up eventually. It was better to get it out and in the open now rather than later. Plus. . . if she had some sort of a breakdown then maybe you’d be more understanding if you knew why it was happening.

“My therapist tells me that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in the Marines and I had a really bad accident. So. . . it was hard for me to live alone.” Ellie stared down at a long-dead leaf on the ground and bent down to pick it up, gently playing with it’s crinkled edges.

“Did you have panic attacks? I have those sometimes too.” You wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone, as stupid as it might sound.

You wanted to relate to her without telling her that your girlfriend had also been a Marine. She was being vulnerable with you, and the last thing you wanted to do was make this moment about you by bringing up your deceased girlfriend.

“Yeah. . . Yeah, I have those a lot. Sometimes I lose track of time- disassociate. It’s scary for others to deal with, so my friends thought that it would be best if I were with Joel. There’s less triggers here than back in Chicago.” You could tell that she was still uncomfortable with the subject matter, but she was powering through.

Ellie appreciated that there wasn’t a hint of judgment in your tone. You genuinely seemed curious. . . and talking about herself like this felt good. Validating, even.

“What triggers you? I just want to make sure that I don’t overstep or accidentally do anything wrong-”

“No, no. You’re fine. It’s more so loud noises and bright lights.”

“So no gunshots?”

“Guns aren’t too bad. . . it’s more so car crashes. Explosions, you know?”

Your mouth went dry. You did know. It’s how Abby died, afterall. You hated that Ellie had gone through something similar. Your heart ached for her.

“Is that how you got this. . . ?” You began to brush your fingers against the scar over her eye. You froze as she flinched, guilt bottoming out your stomach as you quickly yanked your hand away.

She reached out to take your elbow into her calloused hand before you could drop your palm back down at your side, and pressed your fingers against the skin herself. Her skin was still soft, but raised and jagged. You’d never felt a scar this deep before. Still, it was warm under your touch. Alive.

The moment felt oddly intimate, and you kept your fingers there for a few seconds too long before dropping your hand back at your side. Ellie felt like she was going to explode. No one had ever wanted to touch her scar, let alone been allowed to.

“Yeah, It is.” She cleared her throat, grabbing one of her arms in her hands nervously. She was starting to realize that she didn’t mind being seen by you. “I’m legally blind in the eye now, which has been pretty hard to get used to.”

“So you can’t see at all out of it?” You questioned, beginning to walk back over towards the repotting station. You’d noticed a few sprouts that were getting a little too big for their pots, and the last thing you wanted was crowded roots.

She followed after you like a lost puppy, hot on your trail. “I can see shapes and colors. Movement, and everything. But if you held up your hand and asked me “how many fingers am I holding up”, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” She’d practically had to relearn how to do everything again, as dramatic as that sounded. Losing the vision of one eye affected a lot more than one might think.

“Oh, shit.” You remarked, nose wrinkling up in sympathy. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been on top of dealing with the mental anguish of the accident.

“ ‘Oh, shit’ is right.” She agreed with a small smile, leaning her hip against the table as you began laying out the necessary supplies. She watched your hands as they moved expertly around the table, eyes locked on your fingers. “I used to be beautiful.” She joked absentmindedly, alluding to the scar that now marred her features.

“You’re still beautiful.” You said, fully concentrated on the task at hand.

You didn’t realize the weight that your words carried, nor Ellie’s reaction to them. She felt like a giddy teenager. She couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt. She was smitten.

You were the first person to treat her like an actual human being since the incident. This was the most alive she’d felt in almost a year. . . and she was talking about things. Not like she might talk to her therapist, it was different than that. She was talking to someone that wanted to get to know her, not just to diagnose her, but to understand her. It felt good. Really good. Sickeningly good.

And you thought she was beautiful.

“Do you want to help me repot these little guys?” You asked, motioning towards the tiny pots.

She was scared of killing your seedlings but nodded anyway, desperate for your approval. Ellie watched as you demonstrated the entire thing for her, praying to god she wouldn’t forget a step.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, shaking out roots and gently tucking the plants into their new homes. It was calming- melodic, almost. The constant motion, the gentle noises of the wilderness all around you. Ellie could even feel herself getting good at it. Not as good as you, of course. . . but she wasn’t as bad as she thought she would be.

You watched as she rolled her sleeves up and over her forearms, taking a second to appreciate her hands. Once again, you felt guilty for being so attracted to her. Strands of auburn hair had fallen out from behind her ear and hung in her pale face as she focused on her task. Her strong hands worked methodically. Her veins, her knuckles, her forearms and biceps- Ellie wasn’t just beautiful but gorgeous.

‘Give me a sign, Abby. If I’m not reading too far into last night's dream. . . then just give me some sort of a sign.’ You thought to yourself, eyebrows furrowing as you packed more dirt around the seedling in your hand. You felt like you were being horrifically dramatic, but what else could you do?

You felt idiotic. Delusional, even.

Beside you Ellie continued to work, completely unaware of your building turmoil. Pot after pot, she was really getting the hang of it. Pack down a layer of dirt, shake out roots, pack dirt on top- repeat.

She reached out for another one of the black plastic pots, sliding it over in front of her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the rattling. She’d been so close to covering up whatever was at the bottom with dirt, but the sunlight caught whatever it was just right.

It sparkled.

Ellie pinched the object between two dirt coated fingers, her eyebrows practically raising up to her hairline as she realized that it was a ring. A valuable looking one, at that.

“Uh. . . is this yours?” Ellie asked, showing it to you.

You blinked a few times at the ring, scared for a moment that you were hallucinating, because things like this only happened in movies. People asking for signs from the other side only for a ghostly apparition to pop up on screen.

Still, that was your promise ring in Ellie’s hand.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes filling up with tears before you could even stop them. You reached out with gentle fingers, taking it into your hand graciously.

“Thank you.”

And you weren’t sure if you were talking to Ellie. . . or Abby.

✦ want to be the first to know when i post? message me about being put on the taglist!

@viswifetotallyreal @lillysbigwilly @overtrred28 @corpsebridenightamare @jokerpokimoon @macaroni676 @eveshyper @lil-elliesgf @fuckingstarellie @gold-dustwomxn @madislayyy @moonbluz @vianna99 @sawaagyapong @mrsromanoff @glory-grl @sadeyedsugar @inf3ct3dd @teatimedisaster @laucalo @ellieswilliamsgf @machetegirl109 @moonchild184 @onlinelesbo @lasting-lover @luvrrcharr @koremis @elsmissingfingers @whoreshores @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @circe-is-struggling @cqrrnts @elliewilliamsmiller0 @harrysslutsstuff @shewantstoknow @laundrybag29 @darkerstarsstuff @elliesdesperatewife @rulerzreachf4n44 @eviestevie-14 @deliriousrn @diddiqueen @bready101 @felsweb @jaeminpookie @elliesswearjar @2012wannabe @abbysbae @boobabietch @amorqts

1K notes · View notes

gggukniverse · 10 months

Text

basic needs | jjk, myg

title: basic needs

pairing: jungkook x f!reader, yoongi x f!reader

rating/genre: m, smut, roommates au

summary: missing sex while being stuck in your apartment with your two roommates during quarantine is being the worst nightmare you could've imagined. fortunately, you're not the only one who's touch starved.

warnings: sexual tension, getting caught during sex, voyeurism, edging, dirty talk, protected and unprotected sex (pls be safe y'all), creampie, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), cum eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, praising, begging, reader gets called a whore once, a little yoongi x jungkook 👀.

wordcount: 6k

note: okay... i don't know where this came from like i didn't even know i had all of this in me 🧍🏻‍♀️ i kept gasping at my own writing, i think i got too carried away haha i just hope you like it. also pls keep in mind english is noth my first language !! let's go !

–

yoongi has been in his room all afternoon, something about working on a new track, and jungkook is currently taking a shower so you have the living room for yourself, some old sitcom playing on the background but you're paying more attention to your phone. that's until you hear footsteps coming into the living room from the corridor.

"hey, loser." jungkook greets you as he ruffles his damp hair from the shower with his hands.

you hate yourself for pausing to look at his toned body, the fucker walked out of the bathroom shirtless. you blame it on your lack of sex.

"what are you watching?" he doesn't seem to notice or care about you looking at his abs, his eyes narrowed towards the tv while he puts on the shirt he was grabbing.

"i'm not really watching anything... you can play whatever you want." you try to act unbothered when he decides to grab both of your legs and raise them a little to sit on the couch to then let them fall on his lap, letting you stay lying down. his warm hands on your bare legs make you get goosebumps and you pray he doesn't notice.

what the hell is happening to you? get it together, it's just jungkook.

"wanna watch a movie?" jungkook looks at you and starts to run his fingertips through your legs in a soothing way. you're gonna go crazy over how nice it feels after being touch starved for so long.

"sure." you shrug, trying to focus on your twitter timeline and not on his hands caressing your legs.

one of his hands moves away from your legs to grab the remote on the armrest of the couch and soon after he's opening the netflix app on the tv. you turn your head to look at him when you feel his free hand starting to caress your skin again while he looks through the movies catalog. he's not looking at you so you take the opportunity to really look at his hand.

the inked hand looks strangely nice against your pale skin. his hands are actually really nice, they're big too, you wonder how they would feel–

"anything in mind?" his voice thanfully brings you back to reality and you panic, quickly looking up at his face. he's still not looking at you.

it's impossible he knows you were staring at him, right?

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes and he finally throws you a quick glance before looking back at the tv.

"any movie you'd like to watch?"

oh.

"uh... i don't really have any in mind, you can play what you want."

"sure there's not any cheesy romantic movie you want to watch?" he's teasing you now. it's not the first time he's complained about you always watching romantic movies.

"shut up, i know you like them too," and he does. you've caught him tearing up that time you watched the notebook together. "just play something already."

"i don't know what to play, though." he keeps scrolling through all of the movies.

"okay. keep scrolling and close your eyes, stop whenever you want to and open your eyes. we'll watch that." you propose and he narrows his eyes as if he's thinking about it but ends up nodding. "close your eyes then."

you see him closing his eyes and hear the sound of the scrolling on the tv so you keep staring at him in case he cheats.

"that one." jungkook stops and opens his eyes just at the same time you turn to the tv.

"i don't know that one." you mutter after reading the title.

"a romantic one, you won." he teases again while he silently reads the synopsis and you sigh, rolling your eyes back.

"c'mon, play it."

you're pleased when the movie turns out to be kinda good. it's just another really cliché romantic story but you love movies like that. jungkook is enjoying it too even though he tries to act it out. you smile each time he makes a comment about the movie, he can never shut up when watching something.

"stuff like that doesn't happen in real life." he says and you let out a chuckle.

"it's a movie, kook." tou reply and try not to think about his hands still caressing your legs. it's been like that during all the movie, maybe he hasn't even noticed he's still doing it.

it's nothing new that jungkook is a really touchy person, he's always been touchy with you and even with yoongi, he likes to cuddle, likes to touch your hair. but this time it feels so different because of the lack of touch you've been having. it is so embarrassing to admit how nice his hands feel on you.

never in two years living with him would you have imagined jungkook could be quiet during a movie until a sex scene comes up. he suddenly goes quiet. his hand stops moving.

it's awkward. it's always awkward to watch a sex scene with someone else. if you were watching the movie with your best friend it would be totally different, but this is jungkook, your roommate, your roommate you don't have any type of relationship outside this apartment.

you feel tense, your whole body feels tense, and you pray that he doesn't notice. but you flinch when his hand squeezes your thigh a little too hard.

"oh shit, sorry." he apologizes quickly with a chuckle that seems way too forced.

good, you're both tense and awkward.

"don't worry." you reply just as quickly and he nods before turning back to the tv. he looks so focused on the movie, like he's holding his breath. you only realize you've been staring when he looks back at you.

"you okay?" jungkook is looking at you with a soft smile but also with something in his eyes you've never really seen on him.

"y-yeah," you wanna punch yourself in the face for stuttering but manage to move your legs off his lap to stand up from the couch. "i need something to drink, you keep watching the movie." your bare feet are already guiding you to the kitchen when you hear him humming.

maybe you end up spending too much time in the kitchen. you chug down a glass of water as soon as you get there but when you're finished you leave the glass on the sink and then you lean back on the isle, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

you hate how you can still feel jungkook's touch on your legs, how he looked so immersed in the movie, how you can't stop thinking about him squeezing a little too hard when the girl in the movie let out a loud moan, how his gaze was so dark when he looked at you, how you needed to feel his hands on you again.

god, you really need to have sex.

the door creaking open makes you snap out of your thoughts and look up. you quickly straighten up and clear your throat. jungkook is right there by the door looking at you.

"hey," he says nonchalantly and walks to the fridge. "you okay?" his voice is quiet as he grabs the bottle of orange juice.

"yeah! perfectly fine." you nod while he takes a sip of the juice.

he hums and closes the bottle. "you were taking too long, you're gonna miss the rest of the movie."

"yeah, i-"

"i'm not dumb, y/n. you can say you were uncomfortable because of the movie." he chuckles and you feel so stupid.

"no! i wasn't uncomfortable.. it's just- i-" you struggle to find the words and just feel even more stupid

"what is it?" he arches an eyebrow and walks to stand next to you, leaning back against the kitchen isle too.

"i just... fuck, i need to have sex." you snap and run your hands through your hair in frustration. "i'm gonna go crazy if i have to stay inside this house one more fucking day. i haven't had sex in three months."

"we've been quarantined for a month." jungkook points out looking at you with narrowed eyes like he's about to say something else.

"i know, shut up." you stop him before he dares to tease you for it.

"i get it." he says after a few seconds in silence and now you're the one frowning and looking at him.

"huh?"

"i need to have sex too."

oh.

"i get your frustration, sometimes i feel like i'm gonna go crazy too." he looks forward, avoiding your stare.

"oh yeah, i'm sure you're not used to not having a girl bouncing on your dick every single night." the comment was meant to tease him but you just end up feeling your heart start beating too fast at the thought of bouncing on a dick too.

you place your hands on the isle right behind your back and jump a little to sit on top of it, hissing a little because of the cold surface on your exposed thighs.

"hey, it wasn't like that before quarantine!" jungkook whines and pouts like a child and it causes a chuckle to escape your lips. "i wish, though."

"you're gross."

"as if you didn't want to bounce on a dick every single night." he looks at you with an arched eyebrow and a little smirk.

a weird feeling between your legs makes you close them instantly and you swear you can see jungkook looking down really quick before turning and walking back to the fridge to leave the juice bottle back in. when he turns around again you have to fight back a gasp at the sight of the tent he has on his sweatpants. jungkook is hard.

it's embarrasing how bad you need some dick now, it really is, but you look down and close your legs even tighter.

"i should... go to sleep, it's kinda late." you mutter and as soon as you're gonna hop off the counter there's a hand right next to your thigh on the counter.

"wait." jungkook says and you have to look up, he's standing right in front of you.

"yeah?" your voice is just as quiet as before.

"did you get worked up watching the movie?" he asks with a little knowing smile and you want to die from embarrassment.

"no!" you lie, pushing him back a little. "i didn't." you shake your head but he only chuckles, your head is lowering down again.

"it's okay, y/n." his hand brushes against your exposed thigh from where it's placed on the counter and you shiver.

"i didn't." you insist even though you know you're being so fucking obvious.

"open your legs."

a whine escapes your lips at the simple words and you're so embarrassed you wanna die, your face feels so hot.

"jungkook..." you don't want to look up at him but he just moves even closer.

"i know," he coos like he's sorry for you. and it is hot. "it's been so long since someone has talked to you like this, right?"

you just hum in response and shiver again when he pushes one of your strands of hair behind your ear.

"you need someone to take care of you, right?" he purrs, his lips softly brushing against your ear.

"fuck." you sigh and finally look up. "jungkook."

"you need it just as much as me." he says looking right into your eyes. "if you let me..."

"please."

you can't even think straight anymore.

"please, what?"

you don't answer, just spread your legs. he closes his eyes and exhales through his nose.

"y/n."

"please, touch me." you don't think you've ever heard your voice come out so whiny but jungkook seems to like it because he's immediately taking the last step forward he can take and gets between your thighs, placing his hands on your thighs.

"say that again." he says, looking down at your lips.

"touch me." you don't even think about it, because that would probably fuck everything up. it's better this way.

jungkook looks down between your bodies and one of his hands goes up your thigh until it reaches the fabric of your shorts, then it goes up to the elastic waistband. you keep your eyes on his face while he slips his hand under your shorts and finds the wet patch in your panties with his fingers. the groan that leaves his lips when he gets to feel how wet you are is louder than the moan you let out at the same time.

"holy fuck, you're so wet." his fingers start moving slowly against your clothed folds.

"fuck, kook." you sigh and move your hips even closer to him, trying to chase the feeling of his fingers on you.

"mhh... i know," jungkook coos again and you know you're gonna go crazy if he keeps taking to you like that. "feels good, right?" he hums and you're about to respond when he pushes your panties to the side and really touches you.

"fuck." you throw your head back as he runs his fingers through your wet folds.

"god, you're dripping. making a mess down here." jungkook groans and looks up at you. you must be a blushing mess already, your cheeks are burning and you literally feel lightheaded even if you haven't even done anything yet. "please, let me kiss you." he almost begs and you suddenly feel like you're gonna melt right on that counter.

before he can ask again you're throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a desperate kiss. you don't know if you're really fucking turned on or if he's just a really good kisser but you melt into the kiss. jungkook swallows the moans that escape your lips when he slips a finger inside so easily and starts fucking you with it.

"kook..." you moan against his lips. it feels so good to be touched again that your legs are already shaking.

"pretty." jungkook says and starts moving down, leaving a couple kisses on your jaw before kissing and sucking on your neck.

"jungkook- fuck." you sigh, tugging at his hair desperately. "seriously, it's been... it's been so long."

"i know." jungkook hums against your neck and sucks a mark on it as he adds another finger inside you.

"feels so good." you moan and a little squeak slips out of your mouth when he curls his fingers inside of you and finds that sweet spot. "it's so... fuck, it's so soon but i'm gonna cum, kook." you don't even have the mind to be embarrassed about it. it feels too good.

but jungkook suddenly stops kissing your neck and pulls back completely, his hand moving away from inside your pants. the complain about to slip out of your mouth dies in your throat when you see him sucking on his fingers and groaning.

"fuck, so sweet."

you're gonna go crazy.

"your feet on the ground, and turn around." he orders and you're so desperate you obey right away, jumping from the counter and turning around to give him your back. "you need to tell me if you really want this because it's gonna be easier to just stop now." one of his hands finds your waist and he pulls you against his body, you moan at the feeling of his clothed hard dick against your ass.

"yes, fuck, yes please." you breathe out and feel his hands on the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down immediately along with your panties. "wait, wait."

"mh?"

"yoongi, he's home." you mentally applaud your brain for being rational enough to remember you're not alone in the house.

"he doesn't leave his room for hours, don't worry about." he shrugs and you can see him pulling his sweatpants down.

"but- ah!" you whine when he pushes one of your feet further to the side so your legs spread a little more. "jungkook..." you want to insist on the fact that you're not alone but his fingers find your pussy again.

"you're fucking dripping." he sighs and easily slips two fingers inside, making you put your hand on your mouth not to be loud. "fuck, so tight."

you can't help but bend down on the counter, pushing your ass towards him to chase his fingers. jungkook straight up moans at the sight.

"please, need you inside." you whimper when he adds a third finger and starts fucking you with them at a pace that drives you crazy.

"what was that?" he asks and moves even faster. the fucker is teasing you.

"kook, need you to fuck me."

he doesn't seem to think about it twice before he reaches for one of the kitchen drawers where a box of condoms is hidden and takes one out. you can notice he's trying to hold himself back and take his time with you but he's just as eager as you, so he can't slow down now.

"you sure about this, right?" he asks. you're looking at him over your shoulder as he rolls the condom down his cock.

"i'm fucking dripping, kook. of course i'm sure." you're starting to get anxious, you wiggle your ass just to let him know you're ready for him.

a little sigh leaves your mouth when jungkook rubs his tip against your folds, just when you think he's about to slip inside he just rubs it again.

"fucking tease." you mutter with your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the counter. "just fuck m- oh!" you can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he slips inside all the way.

"shit, so tight." jungkook hisses behind you and you whine, your walls clenching so hard around him. his hands grip on your hips so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a mark.

"it's been.. too long- fuck." you remind him as he pulls back a little just to thrust inside again.

"yeah, me too, i'm not gonna last." He warns and you almost giggle because at least you're both equally desperate.

"i don't care, just make me cum." you beg through a moan when he thrusts inside again.

"come here." one of his arms wraps around your waist and straightens you up so your back is arched against his chest, keeping you in place. you're both still wearing your shirts and your pants and underwear are just pooling by your ankles, so horny you didn't even waste time to get undressed.

"holy fuck!" you gasp when his thrusts hit a different way in the new angle and soon after, jungkook's hand is over your mouth.

"want every fucking neighbor to hear you?" he whispers against your ear and you feel your walls clenching around him again. "fuck, y/n, keep doing that and i'll cum in two seconds." his hand drops from your mouth to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it but not adding any pressure, just keeping you in place.

"so big." you whimper helplessly, your hands still flat on the counter because you feel like your legs could betray you right now. "you feel so fucking good."

you feel his hand closing a little around your neck and your eyes roll back at the feeling, he starts fucking you even faster. there are drops of sweat rolling down your forehead already but you don't care, not when you're finally having a cock inside of you. and god, he's fucking you good, so good that you don't feel embarrassed at how close you feel already.

"feels good?" jungkook hums and you can only whine in response. "fuck, your pussy is swallowing my cock, y/n, doesn't want me to leave." he groans and his thrusts are so hard that you're starting to see white dots. "you're so good, y/n."

"f-fuck... please, need... need to cum." you must sound pathetic right now but you can't bring yourself to care. "touch me, kook, make me cum."

his free hand is moving quickly, finding your clit again and rubbing fast circles that almost make you start crying.

"gonna cum, baby?" you feel his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers. the pet name makes you clench even harder around him. "wanna cum on my cock?" he sounds so gone too, you know he's close too. if you knew he was gonna fuck you this good you would've actually taken your time with him, but you let it pass for now because you're both needy and just need to get off.

"yeah." you unconsciously let out the most pornographic moan you've ever heard from yourself and jungkook start giving sloppy thrusts, you're both so close. "kook, i'm gonna cum." you manage to let out and right after your mouth can't even make sounds anymore.

"fuck, y/n."

you're so close. you're gonne cum. so fucking close.

but the door creaks open and you both freeze, not being able to contain your moans at the feeling of jungkook bottoming out once again.

"yoongi!" you scream at the boy standing by the door at the same time as jungkook screams 'hyung!'. you try your best to cover yourself by pulling your shirt down. jungkook's hand drops from your neck to rest on your waist.

"oh, don't stop." yoongi shrugs as if he's just caught you chopping vegetables.

"huh?" jungkook mutters behind you and you can feel it about to move away but you reach for his thigh with your hand to keep him there.

"kook, please." you don't know what got into you. you're so desperate to cum you don't even mind yoongi being there in front of you.

"see? she wants you to keep going." yoongi's voice is so calm as he slowly walks towards you, leaning back against the counter, just right next to where you both are.

you look down as your cheeks start burning and you clench around jungkook. why the hell are you getting turned on by being watched by your roommate while getting fucked by your other roommate?

"fuck, y/n." you know jungkook is hissing because you got impossibly tight around him and you can hear Yoongi's little chuckle. "you're just gonna stand there?" the younger asks his friend.

"i don't think she minds." yoongi replies and you can almost see the smug smile on his face even if you're staring at the counter.

"y/n?" jungkook mutters behind you but you don't answer. you're so close, so embarrassed and so turned on that you're scared your voice will come out in a pathetic whine.

"y/n," yoongi's deeper voice calls for you too but you don't reply either. "look at me, y/n," he speaks again and you bite your lip not to let out another moan because you're sure you're currently creaming jungkook's cock. "pull her hair so she looks at me, jungkook."

your breath hitches then the youngest does just as yoongi says and a moan finally escapes your throat as he tugs at your hair and brings your head up, turning it a little to the side so you can face the boy beside you. he's handling you as if you were a doll. and the second you lock eyes with yoongi you feel numb. his eyes are so dark, you've never really seen him looking at you like that. a little smirk grows on his face as he looks all over your face. you probably look a mess.

"do you want me to stay?" he asks with an unusual soft voice that makes your legs shake.

"hyung." jungkook says with a warning tone, his cock throbbing inside you. he needs to cum too.

"shut up," yoongi gives jungkook a quick look and turns to you again. "y/n?" the words don't even leave your mouth, you can't speak. "what? jungkookie was fucking you so good you can't even talk?" he speaks with a condescending tone, like he's sorry for you. you close your eyes as you clench around jungkook again.

"fuck, y/n." jungkook's free hand squeezes the flesh on your hip.

"keep fucking her, kook," yoongi finally says. "let's see if you can make her talk again."

jungkook doesn't need to be told twice because he lets go of your hair and starts moving again without even questioning him. your head stays in place for yoongi to see you but your eyes are still closed. you must be going crazy because you don't think you've ever felt this good during sex and it is just a quick fuck in the kitchen with your roommate while your other roommate looks at you.

after a specific thrust that hits just where you need it you arch your back until your head falls on jungkook's shoulder, you throw one of your arms behind you so you can reach jungkook's hair and keep him close. your fingers tangle with the soft locks while he fucks you at a brutal pace.

"right there, kook..." you moan.

"like that?" he whines, fucking whines, against your ear as he keeps thrusting against that sweet spot inside you and you nod frantically. one of his hands stays on the counter right next to yours and the other sneaks under your shirt and finally cups over one of your boobs, a groan hits your ear.

"s-sensitive.." you warn him but he squeezes your boob anyway. you cry out. you're so close again, so fucking close.

"stop." yoongi says and jungkook halts his movements immediately as if he was under his spell.

"fuck, yoongi." you choke on a moan. when you open your eyes you can see yoongi looking down at where your bodies meet, then he looks at jungkook.

"jungkook," yoongi says and jungkook hums in response. "you got tested when i did, you're clean." he tells him and then he looks at you. "are you clean? and on the pill?"

"yeah," you nod. "yes to both." you suddenly feel shy again. they both sigh at your answer and you gulp, watching yoongi turning to jungkook with an arched eyebrow.

"then why are you wearing a condom?" yoongi asks. and he's not wrong. you usually didn't risk it, you always use to have protected sex, but now that you see it like this you wonder why you didn't ask jungkook if he was clean from the start.

"hyung... i don't know if she-" jungkook mutters like he's not sure but you can clearly feel his cock twitching inside you.

"do you want him to wear the condom?" yoongi asks you, his voice still calm and his look unbothered.

"y/n, you don't have t-"

"take it off." you cut Jungkook off and yoongi smiles. you feel so nice after seeing his reaction that you wonder if you're doing this just to make him feel proud. it feels good.

"pull out, kookie," yoongi says and walks towards him, you turn your head to look back at them. jungkook obeys quickly, your walls squeezing him like you want to keep him inside. "good," yours and jungkook's breaths hitch when yoongi himself takes the condom off of his cock and goes to throw it on the trash. "you leaked a lot, damn." he say through a breathy chuckle when he comes back and decides to stand right behind jungkook.

"hyung."

"she must feel good, right?" yoongi is suddenly resting his chin on his shoulder and looking down. your eyes follow yoongi's and then roll back when you see yoongi's hand wrapping around jungkook's cock and slowly stroking him to spread the precum on his tip all over his length.

"fuck, hyung." the boy moans and your pussy throbs.

god, this is so fucking hot you could cum if they kept that going for a little longer. but yoongi drops his sticky hand and looks at you tilting his head and lightly raising his eyebrows.

"open your mouth." he says and you don't question him, just open your mouth and welcome two of his fingers inside.

you moan around them as you suck and swallow jungkook's taste off them while yoongi stares at your lips, his tongue licking the corner of his lips.

"clean my hand." his fingers drop from your mouth and you stick your tongue out, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist while you run your tongue all over his palm and fingers, cleaning jungkook off of him.

they're both looking at you like they want to eat you up and you feel so powerful yet you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs by this point. yoongi drops his hand when you've cleaned it completely and then looks at jungkook.

"c'mon, kookie, fuck her now." he says really close to jungkook's ear and the younger obeys instantly, slipping inside you and groaning at the feeling. "good boy." yoongi chuckles as jungkook bottoms out.

"so good." you moan, already feeling the clear difference in having him inside with nothing in between. a whimper is forced out of your mouth when jungkook starts thrusting into you again.

"that feels good, right?" yoongi asks and moves to stand beside you again, to watch it all happen.

"mhm..." you moan. "please... jungkook- please."

"so pretty when you beg." yoongi puts his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. "such a pretty whore."

"oh my god!" your eyes roll back. you feel yourself just a second away from coming. "gonna cum... fuck..."

"yeah, i can fucking feel you." jungkook breathes out. "fuck." his thrusts become sloppy real fast. he's close too.

"jungkook..." you completely bend over the counter again because your arms can't support your weight anymore, your cheek gets smushed against the cold surface. "i'm- shit... i'm coming." you whimper.

"then cum." yoongi's voice is all you need to get there. a shocking wave of pleasure runs through your whole body while you clench hard around him.

"shit, so tight." jungkook mutters behind you and one of your weak arms reaches behind to grab at his thigh. "so close, y/n."

"please." your whole body is shaking with oversensitivity.

"want me to pull out?" jungkook asks.

"no... please," you beg. "come inside, baby." you cry out.

"c'mon jungkook, cum." yoongi says and that seems like enough for jungkook too, because you feel his throbbing cock releasing inside of you.

"fuck," jungkook mumbles. "y/n, come here." his hands are on your waist again.

"i can't." you let out a weak chuckle but jungkook is suddenly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up.

"need to kiss you." he says and you immediately turn your head to find his lips. you kiss him slow, nothing like the kisses you shared before, and it feels good to kiss jungkook like that.

he's the one that breaks the kiss and when you try to chase his lips again he just chuckles and gives your hip a soft slap.

"kiss yoongi too." he whispers just at the same time as you feel a hand wrapping around your neck.

yoongi's lips are on yours as soon as you turn around. you hum through the kiss and bring one of your hands up to his cheek, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss. he swallows your moan when jungkook's cock finally slips out of you and you feel his cum spilling out. yoongi breaks the kiss when jungkook mumbles something you can't really hear.

"shit..." you close your legs when you feel jungkook's cum spilling out and dripping down your thigh. "it's so messy."

"not for long," yoongi suddenly grabs you and brings you to the fridge, making you lean back against it as he drops to his knees in front of you. you stop breathing for a second. "i'm gonna clean you up."

"hyung," jungkook calls him as he puts on his sweatpants again. "you're gonna-"

"do you think this is my first time tasting cum?" yoongi throws him a quick glance and you swear you see jungkook blushing for a moment.

yoongi turns to you again and grabs one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder and diving in with no warning.

"yoongi, fuck!" you throw your head back as one of your hands goes to his hair. he hums against your pussy and laps at your entrance, from where jungkook's cum keeps spilling out.

"that's so fucking hot." jungkook sighs but you can't open your eyes to look at him, you keep them closed.

"yoongi, you're gonna- gonna make me cum again." you mumble, your only leg supporting you starting to shake but yoongi keeps you steady with one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh over his shoulder. and the warning that you're gonna cum only makes yoongi push you further to the edge, sucking on your clit and basically burying his face on your pussy like he's starving for you. "yoongi, oh my- fuck, oh my god!"

you don't know what to do with your hands anymore, one of them stays on his hair while the other ends on your mouth to try and stop the pathetic noises from coming out. though one hand is suddenly grabbing that arm and pulling it down.

it's yoongi. he detaches his mouth from you to say, "i wanna hear you." and suddenly slips two fingers inside you.

"sensitive..." you mumble, your legs shaking again and threatening to close even if yoongi's head is between them.

"gotta clean you well," yoongi says. "jungkookie had a big load for you, huh?" he chuckles again.

you've never heard something so hot in your entire life. jungkook must think the same because he groans somewhere in the kitchen, you don't see him because you're too busy holding yoongi's eye contact.

"you like me cleaning jungkookie off your pussy?" yoongi asks you and gives your clit another little lick as he fucks the cum out of you with his fingers. "dirty girl."

"please, yoongi."

"love hearing you say that." he smirks as he pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue.

"hyung, jesus fucking christ." jungkook sighs while yoongi goes back to eating you out like he's wanted it for months.

"i'm gonna cum, yoongi- ah!" you throw your head back against the fridge again when yoongi sucks on your clit and starts fucking you with his fingers again. "oh, right there!" his fingers keep brushing against that sweet spot and you're sure you're gonna cum soon.

it doesn't take long for you to cum on his mouth and fingers, yoongi gives your pussy one last kiss before placing another one on your thigh still on his shoulder and finally puts it down.

"you're okay?" yoongi asks you as he stands up and cups your face with his hands to check on you.

"yeah," you nod. "just a little dizzy."

"i'm sure you're tired." he brushes his thumbs on your cheeks affectionately and your eyes close on their own. "i'll go prepare a bath for you, okay?" he says and kisses your forehead.

and holy fuck, you never thought that thing people said about feeling butterflies in your stomach was real but now you can feel them because as soon as yoongi pulls away, you feel another kiss on your cheek from jungkook.

"you were amazing." he tells you and you have half a mind to smile.

"wait," you turn to the door where yoongi is already making his way to the bathroom. "yoongi!" you call out for him and he quickly turns around.

"yeah?" he asks and your eyes go down to his crotch. he's hard. of course he is.

"do you... want help with that?" you ask shyly but he just waves a hand dismissively.

"don't worry about it, you're completely spent, you should rest now." yoongi replies sincerely but then looks to jungkook. "unless you're ready for another round." he cocks an eyebrow.

you look at jungkook and a giggle slips out of your mouth when you see him shocked, his cheeks tomato red. yoongi chuckles too.

"i'm just teasing you," the older says. "i'll go prepare a bath." and he leaves the kitchen.

then you're alone with jungkook again. you grab your clothes from the floor even if you're not really gonna put them on now.

"what was all of that about?" you dare to ask and you know jungkook understands what you mean but you still push further. "yoongi and you...?"

"it was nothing." he quickly replies. you're not dumb, he's getting defensive.

"okay..." you mutter. "calm down, i wasn't judging."

"i know," jungkook says and oh he looks troubled. "it was just nothing."

"okay," you nod and give him a reassuring smile because he looks more tense now than before. "just... if you've got some thoughts you need to let out... i'm here, or whatever..." you try not to make things real serious but you just don't want to see jungkook like this.

"i'm okay." he replies.

"mh, good." you end up putting just your shorts on again because it might be a little weird to have this conversation while being half naked.

"by the way, that was short but it was amazing." jungkook says out of nowhere and you giggle, slapping his arm.

"yeah, you were not bad either." you say and squeeze his bicep twice before walking out of the kitchen.

and when you're left alone in the corridor everything you just did hits you like a truck.

what the hell have you done?

–

A/N: hope you enjoyed it !! i'm not 100% satisfied with this one, i know i could've done a lot better but yeah :) thank u for reading ! have a nice day <3

3K notes · View notes