#𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 ：development ． | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enthusiasticharry · 1 year

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 10.0k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: second chapter! i know a lot of you have been waiting for this one and i have too. this chapter is honestly so cute, if i do say so myself, but also has some very important plot points so do watch out! please let me know what you think, what you think of the development, and what you want to see next! i'm all ears! (also sorry this took a little longer than expected, been a lil busy with work)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, drug and alcohol use (abuse?), harry being a very sexy 70s rockstar pt.2.

𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟏 HERE

Los Angeles, Summer 1971

YN’s life had changed in so many ways that it was difficult to keep up with it.

One of the things that she had decided after she had left home that day, over a year ago now, was that she wasn’t going to allow her life to be governed by her past, instead, she was going to focus on the present.

That present at the moment, however, was definitely not one of her best moments. Doing a line of coke in her manager’s bathroom just before an important meeting wasn’t something that she was proud of when she looked back at that time in her life, but that was just her new normal. YN wouldn’t say that she became dependent on drugs after leaving her parents then, but now that was certainly the case. But then again, no one really admitted that they have a problem – then or now.

YN knew that she was late for the meeting that she had been told about yesterday, but YN didn’t care about that. The boardroom that YN walked towards was already full, and she could see Leroy’s face set the second that he spotted her walking towards them. Throwing the door to the room open, YN tried not to focus on the fact that all eyes were on her. There was a seat free directly across from Leroy, so she sat down there. YN pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and offered him one of her biggest smiles.

“You’re twenty minutes late, YN,” Leroy looked at his watch just to check that he had gotten the timings right, or maybe just to annoy her and make his point.

YN shrugged, “I was actually only ten minutes late but then I needed to use the bathroom.”

Leroy looked at her, and she knew what look he was giving her, but she just pushed that to the back of her head. At the end of the day, he was her manager – he didn’t control her.

YN had met Leroy a year ago, a few months after she had left her parents. She had been singing in a few bars here and there, and people were starting to recognise who she was. It had been a random day; YN couldn’t exactly remember the date when she had been approached by Leroy in a bar that she had just performed in. At first, she was a little creeped out by him, especially when he started the conversation by saying that he had been following her for a while and was impressed by what she had been doing. YN was off her head the entire night, and if it wasn’t for him giving her his business card, she probably wouldn’t have remembered the conversation the next day.

“It took you ten minutes to use the bathroom?” He asked, a confused look on his face.

“Leroy,” YN warned with a shake of her head, “You should never ask a lady what she does in the bathroom.”

He scoffed at her slightly and shook his head, “I’ll remember that.”

“Well, now is probably the time you should tell me why you got me out of bed before midday on a Sunday,” She smiled, obviously not being very sincere with it.

In all honesty, YN normally wouldn’t have been awake until the mid-afternoon, but the phone in her and Vivienne’s flat had woken her up from her slumber and it was Leroy’s assistant on the line, telling her that she needed to be in for a meeting at eleven. She had set off from her apartment already late, so by the time she made it she didn’t care and was just focused on getting there when she felt like it.

Leroy sighed, as though he was about to say something big and profound, “We’ve had a proposition.”

YN furrows her brows at him, unsure as to why he was making such a big deal out of this and still hadn’t told her, “Yes, okay, and what is this proposition?”

“We’ve had contact made by another artist's manager in regard to the two of you recording a duet,” YN was confused as to why Leroy was making such a big deal about this. He was obviously hiding something from her, and he needed to tell her what it was right now, or she was going to lose interest very quickly.

“What is it?” She sighed, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her arms across her chest. She was getting fed up, now, “You’re obviously keeping something from me, Leroy.”

“It’s only that, the artist’s manager contacted us…” He paused for a second, looking at the other men that sat around the table, “That artist… it’s Harry Styles.”

YN immediately shook her head, “No, Leroy.”

Leroy had known about the night with Harry over a year prior when they met. That was one of the first things they spoke about, as well as YN’s family. That night had changed YN’s life forever, for the better and for the worst. She truly tried to focus on the positive parts, but it was a little difficult when the negative overweighed that. One of the first things that Leroy proposed when he became her manager was to get in contact with Harry and do another show, but YN had been firmly against that idea.

“Don’t shut it down straight away, YN,” Leroy sighed, closing his eyes, and shaking his head, “Please listen to me.”

“I told you when I signed with you that I wasn’t going to sing with him again, Leroy,” YN was starting to get annoyed because he wasn’t listening to her.

YN understood that he wanted what was best for her, her career, and for their company. It was a shame that it sometimes meant them going against what YN said and wanted. She truly did try to stand her ground and make it so that they listened to her but there were times when she couldn’t do anything. The one thing that YN hated was when Leroy pulled the contract card. She knew that she couldn’t do anything because she was so high when she signed her contract that she didn’t read it properly. It was her own fault, but it was times like these that she could truly kick herself for it.

“I just want you to think about your career for a moment, YN, and what you want from it,” Leroy sighed, tapping his hands on the table as he did so, “I understand that you have personal feelings mixed up in this, but think about what this song will do. They may ask you to tour with them. You may be able to finally get that record deal signed the way you want it.”

YN knew he was right, and it killed her. It wasn’t even that she had personal feelings with Harry, because she couldn’t care less about what that man had said to her, it was just that night in general. There were so many things that she could have done differently, but it was too late to be thinking about that now.

After dwelling on it for a few minutes, she said to him, “If I say yes, what would I have to do?”

Leroy seemed to let out a sigh of relief, almost as though he hadn’t expected her to even contemplate saying yes to him in any capacity. In her head, she wasn’t thinking about the publicity she would get from it she was rather thinking of the experience that she may be able to have. She may get to go on tour, and the record label that Leroy had been trying to get her on might actually think about taking her and letting her have a shot at her own album.

It was difficult for a woman in this business, and YN realised that very quickly. Whilst people did care about her voice, they were more enthralled with her. It was the way she moved, and the way she dressed. People couldn’t take their eyes off of her because of who she was, and that was the thing that YN enjoyed for a while, but she wanted those people to enjoy her and her music now.

“They want you in the studio, tomorrow,” Leroy sighed, and YN had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, “Late afternoon, just for a sing-through before they make the decision about recording. But if it all goes well, which it will YN, you could have your first recorded song by the end of the day tomorrow.”

YN slumped back in her chair and brought her hand up to her face. She couldn’t believe it. She could actually have her first recorded song by the end of the day tomorrow, and all she had to do was impress Harry and his band, and probably his team. It couldn’t be that difficult, seeing as though she had done it a year prior without any problems.

“Tell them I’ll be there,” She nodded, pulling her sunglasses back down to her nose and standing up.

“YN, wait!” Leroy called as she started to walk towards the door, “You don’t even know where there is!”

She turned to him with a little lift on the corners of her cheeks, “Malibu, right?”

“Yes, but –”

“Just tell them I’ll be there, Leroy,” And with that, she let the door slam behind her as she strutted off down the hallway.

YN had no idea what to do with herself. If there was one thing she knew she had to do, it was celebrating, but she couldn’t get too fucked up – she had to be on her best behaviour for tomorrow. The second she had found Vivienne and told her the news; they were immediately making their way out of the house to meet up with a few of Vivienne’s friends for a celebration.

YN was supposed to be on her best behaviour, and she knew that, but there was also the nagging voice in the back of her head that said that she would have all of tomorrow morning and early afternoon to recover, so there was a slight margin for error.

That slight margin would need to succeed because YN took it way too far in celebrations that day – as she always did.

By the time YN woke up the next day, she was already late.

There was a pounding within her head that caused YN to want nothing more than to turn over and go back to sleep, but then again that wasn’t anything that throwing back a few pills and washing them down with the half-drunk bottle of champagne on her bedside table wouldn’t fix. She sat up and placed her feet against the plush rug under her bed, bracing her hands on her knees before she actually attempted to stand up.

YN was just about to stand up when her movements were stopped by an unfamiliar sound in her room. She turned around to see a half-naked man asleep in her bed and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This certainly wasn’t how she wanted to start today.

Standing up, she immediately grabbed a pair of shorts from the floor as well as a shirt. It wasn’t a familiar shirt, but she needed something – anything – to wear. She walked out of her room, pulled her hair up into a half-arsed bun on the top of her head and made her way into the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to change, wash her face and brush her teeth before she was grabbing her bag and Vivienne’s keys.

“Hey,” Vivienne called from the kitchen, frying pan in hand, “What are you doing with my keys?”

“Late for the studio, promise I’ll bring the car back in one piece!” YN pressed a kiss to her friend’s cheek as she passed her. She opened the front door and just as she stepped out, she turned back to Vivienne, “There’s also a slight problem in my bedroom which I don’t have time to fix.”

Vivienne shook her head, “Go! You don’t need to be later than you are, but you owe me!”

“Thank you!” YN blew another kiss in her direction, “Love you!”

YN heard Vivienne call something back, but it was no use, she was already halfway down the steps and rushing towards Vivienne’s car. She pulled her sunglasses on, opened the door, and slipped in. The leather was hot on her skin, and she pulled the window’s all the way down before she even set off. The drive to Malibu wasn’t that long from where she lived, and with the window’s down and the stereo up, she made it in no time.

If this was YN a year ago, she would’ve been so nervous for this that she probably wouldn’t have shown up and if she did go, she would’ve shown up a few hours early. She didn’t actually know what the time was, but she could’ve guessed that she was a few hours late. Today, she didn’t care. She didn’t care how late she was when she parked in front of the studio, or how late she was when she burst through the doors with her sunglasses still on her face.

There was a girl sitting at the front desk, and her mouth slightly dropped open at the sight of YN walking in. YN had no idea if it was because she knew who she was or because of the state she was in – probably if YN had to guess, it was both.

“YN YLN,” She leant against the desk and tapped her nail on the wood, “Supposed to have a meeting with Harry Styles, which studio is he in?”

“Um,” The girl swallowed, as though she was nervous, “The second one, down the hall to the right.”

“Thanks, doll,” YN flashed the girl a quick smile and started her way down the corridor. Her cowboy boots tapped on the carpet with every step, and she clamped down on her bottom lip to stop the excitement from showing too much on her face.

The door was closed, and she didn’t even bother knocking before she pushed it open. Everybody in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to the girl, some of them with shock on their faces and others (mainly Harry) with a look of annoyance on their face. Harry was standing directly in front of her, behind glass may she add, but she was looking at him directly in the face. He had obviously been recording before she stepped in due to the track playing in the background, but the man behind the desk pressed a button and that stopped.

Harry pursed his features as he looks at her, his eyebrows furrowing, “You’re late.”

YN pulled her sunglasses off her face and pretended to look at a watch on her wrist, “Well, to me it looks like I’m perfectly on time.”

“You were supposed to be here two hours ago,” He continued, pointing to the clock on the wall.

“Well, I’m here now,” She shrugged, pulling her bag off her shoulder, and dropping down on the sofa next to her, “Are we going to record or not?”

“We’re not recording,” He snapped, a little too quickly for YN’s liking, “We’re just going to sing a song, and then you’re going to go home.”

YN shrugged, “Fine then, what are we singing?”

Without even missing a beat, someone passed her a sheet of paper which seemed to have the lyrics to a song called Cherry on it. They weren’t bad, they were actually quite good, but she just wanted to know why she had been asked to come in and sing on it. She made her way into the booth, happily accepting a pair of headphones from one of the technicians and before she knew it, she stood in front of Harry Styles for the first time in over a year.

He was still just how she remembered him from a year ago, but maybe just a little more tired. His hair was a little longer, and his features were a little more defined but the bags under his eyes are the thing that had grown the most. She didn’t know what had happened to him in the year it had been since they first met, and she didn’t really care, but it seemed to have taken a toll on him.

“I’m hoping that you’re going to sing it first,” YN spoke, stating the obvious as she looked at him over the paper, “Just so I know what I’m actually singing, and not making it up.”

He looked at her, and then at the man at the right of her and shook his head. YN knew that she was stating the obvious, but it was better to say it than to hide in fear and make a fool out of herself.

Harry moved towards the microphone, pulling his headphones on as he did. YN pulled her own on but stayed away from her microphone. The song itself was beautiful, and she was starting to understand especially why a female vocalist was wanted but all she could think was these were his words, from his perspective – why would she be singing them?

He still sounded amazing. Even though his appearance had changed slightly, his voice was still as entrancing as that first night they had met – maybe even more. Whilst he was singing, she couldn’t help but think of how she could merge and change the lyrics to make more sense. Make it so the song wasn’t just from his perspective, but also from hers.

The ideas were spiralling around in her head, and even though there was so much that she wanted to do she obviously knew the biggest thing was getting Harry on her side in this. That was going to be the biggest challenge. She could face it lightly, just dropping the idea in or she could be firm. YN didn’t have much patience, and she was already tearing her headphones off the second he stopped singing.

“It’s good,” She nodded, “But I can’t sing it like that.”

He looked shocked by her words, and furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean? What do you mean you can’t ‘sing it like that’?”

“You wrote the song, from your perspective,” YN stated the obvious to him, his arms crossing over his chest as he listened to her – at least he was listening, “You want a female vocalist on the track, and therefore you should have the other perspective, her perspective.”

“First of all, I don’t want a female vocalist on the track,” He shook his head, “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Well, then, whoever’s idea it was wanted a female vocalist.”

“Second of all,” He stopped her from saying anything else, “You can’t just waltz in here and start changing my song – that isn’t how this works.”

“Harry,” The man that was standing next to YN moved so that he was in between them, “Nothing is set in stone right now, why don’t we just listen to her version?”

“Jeff, this isn’t what we said,” Harry dropped his voice so that it was more hushed, but she could still hear every word, “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“But there isn’t any harm in trying,” Jeff tried to reason, and it seemed to work because Harry then turned to her.

“One time,” He lifted his finger from emphasis, “We’ll listen to your version once.”

“Perfect,” She smiled, moving so that she was standing behind her microphone now, “Shall we actually sing now?”

YN watched as he rolled his eyes at her, and she actually smiled. The room cleared so that it was just the two of them and everyone else went into the recording booth out of the way. The two of them put their headphones on and listened to the technician.

“Can I just get a test from the both of you?”

Harry sang a line, and then YN did. Once YN had, she turned her volume down a little bit because she seemed a little loud even to herself.

“Ready?” YN couldn’t even say anything, so she just nodded, gazing at Harry, who did the same.

Once the track started playing YN couldn’t actually believe that she was there. She was standing in a studio singing, maybe even recording a song if it went well. She truly did have one chance at this, and she wasn’t going to fuck this up. She couldn’t fuck this up for herself.

The track started, YN took a deep breath and knew that she was going to give her all. This was her opportunity for the taking – and she was going to take it.

“Don’t you call him baby/ we’re not talking lately/ don’t you call him what you used to call me,” Harry looked at YN, and she nodded as if he was allowed to continue, “I, I confess I can tell that you are your best/ I’m selfish so I’m hating it,”

YN moved so that she was closer to the microphone to indicate that it was her turn, “I’ve noticed that there’s a piece of me in how you dress/ I take it as a compliment,” YN continued, “Don’t you call me baby/ We’re not talking lately/ He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

When she had finished singing, and the track continued, her eyes bounced towards Harry who was staring at her. YN couldn’t tell what look he had on his face, but he didn’t stop, and she guessed that was a good thing. It must have been doing okay because everybody in the booth seemed to be listening to every word as well. It was surprising to YN because she wasn’t doing much but changing some of the lyrics on the spot.

“I, I just miss/ I just miss your accent and your friends/ Do you know I still talk to them?” It was at this point that a gravitational pull had made it so the two of them were facing directly at each other, singing whilst looking directly into each other’s eyes. It didn’t matter to either of them that people were watching, they were just in their own little worlds.

“You know he takes me walking round his parents’ gallery,” The look on his face as she sang those words, as though they were hitting something deep inside of him that YN had no idea about.

“Don’t you call him [me] baby/ We’re not talking lately,” When the two of them started singing together, it was truly as though nothing else could have touched them. It was just the two of them, singing about heartbreak whilst staring at each other. YN stopped singing to let Harry sing his version, “Don’t you call him what you used to call me,” Then, the next time that line came up, Harry stopped so YN could sing hers, “He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

Once not only the song had finished, but the track as well, there was silence in the room. It was as though nobody in the booth dared to speak and YN and Harry were still staring at each other.

Harry was the first to look away. He looked behind the glass at Jeff, and wiped his hand over his face before turning back to YN, “Do you want to record it?”

“Really?” YN couldn’t help but be surprised. There were a few times at that point in her life when YN was speechless, but this was one of them.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” He shrugged, “Should only take a few takes and then you can go.”

YN pretended to contemplate it for a second, but she already knew her answer, “Yeah, sure.”

The entire time that they were recording, YN felt as though she was in a fever dream. It didn’t seem real. All of the hard work that she had put in over the last year. All of the sleepless nights, the working late and the dreaming were all working up to this point. At this point in her life where she could say that she was actually recording a song. That people were going to listen to her voice and hopefully enjoy it.

They recorded the song full three or four times, two of those were on separate microphones and the last two were on the same. She was standing so close to Harry that she could smell his cologne, the wood mixed with that little bit of tobacco. Even though he had been an arsehole to her the first time that they had met, YN couldn’t deny that there was just something about him that drew her in. She wanted to know more, and she wanted to know everything. A man like him has some stories under his sleeve, and she wanted to know them all.

Whilst they were singing, there was a part of YN that believed that he might want the same. That all changed the second they stopped singing and he turned away from her and gave her such a cold shoulder that she almost did feel a chill. The second the last take was finished, Harry stormed out of the room without even saying a word to her.

Jeff was the one that came up to her, offering her a small smile as he did, “Once we’ve cut this, we’ll send a copy to Leroy so he can show you just so your happy before it's released.”

“Thank you,” She smiled, walking over to her bag, and pulling it over her shoulder, “It was amazing.”

He opened his mouth to say something else and then sighed, “I’m sorry about Harry. It was he who suggested having you come in actually, but you never know exactly what he is thinking.”

“Oh,” YN’s mouth was slightly parted with shock at that. Harry had given no inclination at all that he was the one who suggested she came and sang with him, not even the slightest one.

“He’ll come around to it, eventually,” He smiled, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

YN quickly turned on her heel and walked out of the room. The second she was storming down the corridor and towards the door, she was rattling through her purse for the pills that she knew she kept in there. As she pushed the front door open, she found them and immediately popped the lid. She already had two in her hand by the time she looked up, and immediately made eye contact with Harry who was standing having a cigarette a few feet away from her.

That didn’t stop her from dropping both of the pills into her mouth and swallowing. She turned away, breaking eye contact with him but she knew that with every step she took towards Vivienne’s car, Harry was watching her.

She wanted him to.

There were very few times in YN's life that she could say that she did something for herself. Her entire life before a year ago wasn’t her own – it was her parents. Even once she had left them, there was still that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that her parents might be watching, or they would be waiting for some sort of opportunity to pull her back to their way of life.

That was a difficult mindset for YN to get out of. The entire first three months after leaving home she didn’t leave Vivienne’s couch. Vivienne had tried and tried to get the girl to leave and do something, to come out with her on a night, but YN couldn’t bring herself to. Of course, she wanted to, that life was her dream – it was the life that made her burn – but she also knew that her parents could have had people watching her, waiting to bring her back and send her away and get her life straight again.

After those three months, she decided that she wasn’t going to live under her parents' watchful eye anymore. She wasn’t living with them, legally she was an adult who could do what she wanted and that was exactly what she was going to do. Every trip to a different club, every asshole that she had talked to from the music industry, and in most cases slept with, in the idea that it would get her somewhere, but it didn’t – they were all working up to this day.

The day when people, all over the world could listen to an album and hear her voice on it.

It baffled YN’s little brain, especially when she woke up the day of the release and played the vinyl of the record and there was her voice on the fifth track. Vivienne had surprised her with a bottle of champagne, and the two of them stood in the tiny living area of the flat listening to the entire album and basically screaming the entire time that YN was singing.

Even if YN wasn’t on the record, she still loved the entire thing. It was one of the most heartbreaking, rock n' roll records that she had ever heard, and over the past year, she had heard as many as she could. To say that she was a part of that, was one of YN’s biggest achievements so far in her life.

The only problem was – she now wanted more.

The Troubadour was a venue that YN had been to many times over the past year. She had heard some of the best musicians whilst standing in that room, and here she was walking into the building to perform with Harry and his band at their record release night. They were performing later that night, but YN had been asked to come a few hours earlier to rehearse and unlike last time – she was on time today.

YN walked into the dark bar, sunglasses still on her head, heeled cowboy boots tapping on the floor. She had a bag over her shoulder with the dress that she had specifically picked out for the performance but decided upon a comfortable pair of high-waisted flared jeans and a crotched white top to rehearse in. There were a few people behind the bar, but after giving them a small smile she made her way towards the stage, where Harry and his band were already rehearsing. They hadn’t noticed that she was there, so she pulled her sunglasses off her eyes and placed them on her head and listened.

Even in a rehearsal, where Harry himself had sunglasses over his eyes and he was just in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, which wasn’t his normal performance attire, he was mesmerising. YN struggled to look away from him on a good day, but today it was actually impossible. Once they had finished the song, Golden, which was one of YN’s favourites of the album actually, she joined in the other people clapping. When she had, Jeff who was standing by the side of the stage turned and started to walk over to her.

“YN!” He had a beaming smile on his face, and YN had a few ideas as to why that could be. He greeted her with a hug which shocked her a little bit, but she accepted and offered him a small smile, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too Jeff,” She smiled, pulling her bag more securely on her shoulder before it fell off.

“Well, the band’s got one more song to do before Cherry, you could stay, or I could show you backstage where you can drop your bag off?”

“Please,” YN nodded, lifting her hand up to her head to wipe the sweat off her brow, “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” He motioned for her to follow him, walking past the stage as he did. YN looked up at Harry, who was looking right at her and offered a small smile. He didn’t smile back, he just continued to look at her and drink from his water bottle. YN didn’t mind. He could do or say anything to her that day and absolutely nothing was going to ruin her mood.

“There’s a green room at the bottom of the hall,” Jeff explains as they walked. He stopped off at one of the doors on the right of the corridor, “This is yours, Harry’s across the hall and there are always people milling around if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” She smiled, passing him, and walking into the room.

“They should be ready for you in around ten minutes,” He gave her another smile and shut the door behind him. The second that he did, she turned and dropped her back against the door and had to bite her lip from screaming.

She was in her own dressing room, backstage at the Troubadour, waiting to rehearse her song so that she could perform it later that night. It didn’t make any sense to her. It was crazy. The room was small, but it had a dressing table and a sofa and a little cart that seemed to have a few snacks as well as water and whisky. She walked over and picked up the bottle. She had no idea what good whisky was, and what wasn’t but she remembered seeing something similar on her father’s bar cart that must have meant it was good.

Turning towards the dressing table she sat down, and it was only then that she noticed the bouquet of flowers next to the mirror. They were beautiful, all bright colours that reminded her of summer and the light in the world. There was a small card placed in the middle that she picked up, and in an unfamiliar scrawl were words that she never could have expected.

I was wrong. I’m sorry.

YN stared at the card, letting the words sink in. Her stomach was knotting and twisting just at the simple idea that Harry had thought to not only get her flowers but also apologise. It was certainly true that nobody knew what that man’s next move was. Not even five minutes ago he was staring at her in a way that made her think he hated her, but he didn’t. He had actually apologised to her. Was he apologising for the way that he acted towards her in the studio, or for the words that he said to her over a year ago? Maybe it was both?

YN placed the card back on the flowers and started to unpack her bag. She pulled her dress out and hung it out on the rail so that hopefully any creases in the material would drop. Next, she pulled out her makeup, just a bit that she had brought to touch up her face later, as well as some hair products just to make sure that her hair didn’t look like a rat's nest when she was up on stage. When she reached the bottom of her bag, she pulled out her pill container.

YN stared at the bottle for a second. In her head, she knew that she had taken two just before she had left the house and walked to the Troubadour. But then again, she needed something to calm her nerves before she went on stage. Walking over to the bar cart, she turned one of the glasses over and opened the bottle of whiskey. She poured enough so that just the bottom of the glass was covered and then a bit more. With that glass, she washed down two more pills and dropped the rest of the container back into her bag.

YN wiped the sweat off her brow and upper lip and then made her way towards the door. She didn’t know if ten minutes had passed, but she could still stand and listen to them even if they hadn't. Walking back towards the stage, Harry and Jeff stood talking about something and it looked like the rest of the band was waiting for her. YN gave Sarah a smile, which she returned with a small wave. She stopped just in front of them and beamed them a smile.

“We ready to do this, then?”

“Just need to set up your mic and then we’re good to go,” YN nodded and watched as people who obviously worked at the venue set her mic up. She thanked them and once it was ready, she stood behind it.

The music started from behind her, and even though there wasn’t a single person in the audience apart from the staff, YN couldn’t contain her excitement. The second that Harry started singing, she had to control herself. They weren’t putting on any sort of performance right now, they were just rehearsing and making sure that everything was okay for tonight, but then again, it didn’t matter the circumstance whenever YN sang, on her own or with Harry, she was performing every word. Her vocals weren’t the best, but once the first nerves had rattled out of her body and the pills had finally started to relax her, nothing could stop her.

Her eyes flickered to Harry a few times during the performance, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was playing and singing so effortlessly and for the first time during this thing, YN stood there and questioned what the hell she was doing there. Her life was shitty rich parties and playing up to the public about her perfect family – she wasn’t made for this.

Then he looked at her. The second that he turned his eyes towards her all of those thoughts left her head, and she knew that this was where she needed to be, and where she deserved to be. Music. Singing. Performing. These were the things that sparked the fire within her, and even if this wasn’t the life that was made for her, it was the life that she was going to make for herself. One day, she was going to be up on this stage on her own, singing her own record that people wanted to hear, and nothing was going to stop her.

The song finished, but Harry and YN were still looking at each other. The band were talking to some technicians about balance and some shit that YN didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter.

Without breaking eye contact, she mouthed, “Thank you.”

He just smiled.

YN had just finished smoking a blunt with two people she didn’t recognise or know the name of in the green room when the door swung open and in walked Vivienne. YN squealed and stood up, a little wobbly on her feet but that wasn’t going to stop her from wrapping her arms around her friend in a bone-crushing hug – her family.

Vivienne pulled away and placed her hand on YN’s cheeks, “Looks like you’ve already got the party started.”

“When haven’t I?” YN scrambled and grabbed Vivienne’s hand, pulling her out of the greenroom and down the corridor.

“Am I not allowed to say hello to anyone?” Vivienne laughed, pulling her bag tighter on her shoulder so that it didn’t fall off from her friend’s antics.

“Sorry,” YN laughed, stopping in front of her dressing room door, and pushing it open, “But I have to show you this.”

YN walked into the room with a squeal and dropped back on the sofa, propping her feet on the small coffee table in front of her. Vivienne stood at the door and looked around the room. There was a hint of a confused look on her face, but YN was too out of it to notice, and she was also too excited.

“What is it?” Vivienne asked, letting the door slam behind her, and walking further into the room.

“It’s my dressing room, Viv,” She laughed, “It’s all mine.”

“Wow, YN,” Vivienne turned and saw the flowers on the dressing table and made a beeline for them.

At this point, YN had dropped her feet from the table and had pulled a small glass pot filled with a white powder out of her pocket. It was a gift from one of those idiots she had smoked with earlier, but she wasn’t going to let good drugs go to waste. She tapped it out on the table, moved it into a perfect line and dropped her nose down to snort it.

Vivienne turned around, completely speechless at her friend. She made a mental note that she would speak to YN tomorrow, she wasn’t going to dampen the day for her. With the small note from the flowers in her hand, she held it up to YN who smiled.

“Who’s this from?” Vivienne tapped the paper against her finger, “And why are they saying sorry?”

Sheepishly YN shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“You obviously do,” Vivienne asked, dropping down on the sofa next to YN, “Or you wouldn’t be making that face.”

YN dropped her head back and dropped her face so that a false frown sat there, “I don’t know what you mean, I’m not making a face.”

Vivienne tapped the girl on her shoulder using the card and YN grabbed it, standing up and placing it back on the flowers where it belonged. She then crossed her arms and leaned against her dressing table.

“It’s from Harry,” She admitted.

“What did he get wrong?” Vivienne asked, furrowing her eyebrows, “What is he saying sorry for?”

YN shrugged, “Could be nothing, could be everything.”

“YN –”

YN pushed the hair that had fallen out of her face and stood up straight, “That doesn’t matter, anyway, because I need to get ready for the show and I need you to do my hair for me.”

Vivienne sat on the sofa and watched as her friend pull her jeans and top off and pulled on a white lace dress that stopped at her mid-knee and nearly cried. With her thigh-high cowboy boots that she never saw YN without and that crazy smile on her face – she looked like a rockstar. That was her best friend, and she was a rock star.

“Are you gonna help me?” YN laughed after she sat down and saw that Vivienne hadn’t moved, “Or you just gonna sit there?”

“I’m sorry, yeah,” YN touched up her face as Vivienne brushed her hair and made sure that it didn’t look like its usual rat's nest. Once her hair was better, Vivienne placed her hand on her friends' shoulders and squeezed.

“What?” YN smacked her lips together, after just applying a layer of gloss to her lips.

“Nothing,” Vivienne shrugged, “I’m just so proud of you.”

YN laughed and placed her own hand over Vivienne’s, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

The two girls beamed at each other through the mirror, but their little moment was interrupted by a banging on the door. YN jumped up and bounced to the door and flew it open. Her excitement dropped a little when she saw who it was, and her stomach twisted.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” He ran a hand through his hair, “Sorry for interrupting, but we’re about to go on.”

“Oh,” YN laughed, “I didn’t know it was that time already.”

“Yeah,” Harry pointed towards the green room, “We’re all in there if you wanna come.”

“We’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay,” He nodded his head at her, his gaze stopping for just a second before he turned and walked away.

YN rushed back into the room and moved towards the table, grabbing her little glass pot, and dropping it in her pocket. Vivienne watched as the girl fluttered around the room, checking her make-up in the mirror first before turning to the bar cart and downing a glass of whisky like it was nothing. Definitely not the same girl she had given her first proper shot to over a year prior.

“You ready?” YN asked, slipping her arm through her friends.

“I should be asking you that,” Vivienne laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as ready for something in my life.”

The entire band sat around on the sofas; Harry stood in the middle of them. They were obviously waiting for her because all of their heads picked up when she walked in. She smiled and dropped herself on the arm of the sofa near Sarah.

“We made it, okay,” Harry started, and once he did even the people that weren’t in the band that was in the room started to listen, “Our album release show is at the fucking Troubadour.” There were cheers and claps around the room, “There are so many people that I need to thank, but we’re already late and Jeff may kill me if I carry on talking any longer, so, are we ready?”

Another chorus of cheers around the room, and the band was standing up and making their way towards the corridor that led to the stage. Harry was following behind them, and just as YN stood up, she caught his arm. He looked at her and furrowed his eyebrows.

“When are you wanting me?”

“Uh,” He lifted his hand up to his head, rubbing the crease that formed there slightly, “I think we’re playing it fifth, I’ll introduce you. You can watch from the side.”

“Okay,” YN nodded her head, watching as he turned to walk away, “I’ll be ready.”

YN and Vivienne locked arms and walked a few steps behind the band and Harry and took their place in the wings whilst they were performing. The second that he walked onto the stage; the crowd erupted into the loudest cheers that YN had ever heard in her life. They only seemed to get louder to the point that they were almost deafening when the music started, and Golden was being played for the first time.

“Golden, Golden, Golden/ As I open my eyes/ Hold it, focus, hoping/ Take me back to the light.”

The record hadn’t even been out for a day yet, but YN swore that she could hear people singing along, even herself at some points. It was mesmerizing, even watching it from the side like she was.

The next song was Watermelon Sugar, and if she didn’t know what the song was about before, she certainly knew after watching him perform. It was electric, and sexual and made every single hair on her body stand up. He knew what he was doing and knew exactly how to push the buttons of everyone in the audience.

“I want your belly/ And that summer feelin’/ Getting washed away in you.”

By the time Adore You started, YN was pacing up and down in the wings. It wasn’t that she was nervous because, in all honesty, she wanted to just be out there. She was getting more and more impatient, and the more she did, the antsier she got.

Without even thinking, she pulled her little glass pot out and tapped some on the back of her hand.

“Honey (ah)/ I’d walk through fire for you/ Just let me adore you.”

Wiping her nose, she tried to turn her attention back to the show, but she couldn’t. There was one song now between her and getting out there, and she had no idea how she was supposed to wait that long. She wanted to sing for that crowd, she wanted to hear them shouting her name and this wait was way too long for her liking.

“Lights up and they know who you are/ Know who you are/ Do you know who you are?”

This was it. The fourth song had finished, and the crowd were going wild. There was a pause whilst Harry was given his guitar and then he walked over to the microphone. YN shook out her arms, moved her neck from side to side and let out a deep breath.

“Now, as you know this next song features a very special guest on it,” To YN, the more he spoke the more it felt as though he was delaying her coming on stage, “This is Cherry and please welcome YN YLN to the stage!”

With one last smile and encouraging thumbs up from Vivienne, YN walked out onto the stage with a beaming smile on her face.

This is what she had been dreaming of. The second that she walked onto the stage; the crowd erupted. It was unlike anything that she had ever heard in her life, and it was better than any drug that she could take. Hearing each one of those people scream her name and be excited for her to sing was it for YN. This is what she had been waiting for her entire life.

YN looked at Harry and beamed a smile at him, and then the music started. She stood in front of the microphone that was there waiting for her and closed her eyes. She wasn’t just listening for the music, but she was listening to the crowd – and then she was listening to Harry.

“Don’t you call him baby/ we’re not talking lately/ don’t you call him what you used to call me,” YN turned to look at Harry, but he was looking straight forward at the crowd, strumming his guitar with such ease, “I, I confess I can tell that you are your best/ I’m selfish so I’m hating it.”

Harry took a step away from the microphone and YN moved closer to hers, “I’ve noticed that there’s a piece of me in how you dress/ I take it as a compliment/ Don’t you call me baby/ We’re not talking lately/ He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

“I, I just miss/ I just miss your accent and your friends/ Do you know I still talk to them?” Just as they had done in the studio when they were recording, the gravitational pull forced them to look directly at each other. Their little world was back, and they were both sharing the stage doing something that they loved once again.

“You know he takes me walking round his parents’ gallery,” Harry closed his eyes as she sang that line. YN didn’t know whom Harry was singing about, but it was obviously still very raw.

“Don’t you call him [me] baby/ We’re not talking lately,” The two of them started to sing together, and without even thinking, when it was Harry’s turn to sing his version, “Don’t you call him what you used to call me,” YN moved so that they were sharing a mic. They didn’t look away from each other, not even when YN had finished her line and the song had drawn to a close, “He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

The sound in the room was electric and YN brought her hands up to her face in shock and dropped her head on Harry’s shoulder, to which he laughed.

“YN YLN, everyone!” He called into the microphone, to which she smiled at him and bounced off the stage – much to her own disappointment.

The second she was off the stage, and the show continued, she was immediately hugged by Vivienne. The two friends jumped around for a minute before they turned back to the show. Every so often she could hear someone shout her name, mainly when Harry was talking as though they wanted her to come back onto the stage. It took every ounce of self-control that YN had to not turn and walk back onto that stage.

If one thing was for certain, it was time for her to record her own album.

The entire place felt as though it was one fire when the show finished, and they went back to the green room. The band were still high off the adrenaline (and other things), Vivienne and YN were having the time of their lives, and Harry was sitting talking to Jeff, almost normally and as though he hadn’t just performed in the greatest show of his life.

YN stood up, plucking a cigarette out of the carton that was on the side and picked up a lighter. She had no idea whose they were, but YN didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” Vivienne asked, lifting her head up from the man’s shoulder that it had been leant on.

“Just out for air,” YN laughed, popping the cigarette in her mouth, and lighting it, “I’ll be back before you know it, don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I will, babe.”

The girls shared a laugh and then YN made a beeline for the exit, swiping an unopened bottle of champagne from the side as she did. Even though it was the height of summer, it was still way too hot outside, and even the slight breeze didn’t do much.

YN dropped down so she sat on the steps, not caring if any dirt got onto her white dress because nothing was going to ruin her night. She definitely spoke too soon when she sat there for a good few minutes, cigarette dangling from her lips trying to open the damn champagne bottle that she had picked up.

The door opened behind her, and before she had even checked to see who it was, she was thrusting the bottle up in the air towards them, “Can you open this for me?”

“Sure,” YN almost dropped the bottle when she heard his British accent.

“You know,” YN started as he took the bottle from her and sat down, “We really have to stop meeting like this, Mr Styles.”

He laughed, and just as he did the bottle popped open and YN winced waiting for the liquid to spurt over but it didn’t. She accepted it with thanks from him and immediately brought the bottle up to her lips. Once she had done it, she passed it back to him and he did the same thing.

“If I remember correctly, it was you that followed me the last time.”

YN furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember, “That may be true, but you were the one following me this time.”

He nodded and passed the bottle back to her, “And what is it that you’re doing out here? I thought you’d be in there, celebrating with everyone.”

“Just needed some air,” YN shrugged, “I don’t mind celebrating on my own for a while, either.”

Harry pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering YN one to which she shook her head and held up the one in her hand. He nodded and placed one between his lips.

“What about you?” YN asked as she watched him light it, “I thought you’d be in there celebrating with one of the twenty girls in there that all want to fuck you.”

“Wow,” He laughed, “You definitely aren’t that shy girl I met a year ago.”

“Yeah, well, I grew up,” YN sighed, opening her arms in a shrug, “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I did all that last time around,” He shrugged, “I guess I grew up too.”

“C’mon,” YN laughs and bumps his shoulder with hers, “Nobody grows out of sex.”

Harry grimaces and shakes his head, “You do when it’s like that. Coked out of your head, not remembering where you are, who they are or even who you are at times.”

YN doesn’t respond. YN was shocked that he was even admitting that to her. YN didn’t have enough fingers to count all of the times that had happened to her, and for Harry to just openly admit that was shocking to her. It made her think that the two of them may be similar in more ways than just one.

“But anyway, you don’t need to know about that,” Harry shrugged, “What’s next for you then?”

“Well,” She sighs, taking another swig of the champagne in her hand, “I’m going to record an album.”

“You got a deal?” Harry sort of seems shocked by her words, “Congrats.”

“Well, I don’t yet,” He furrows his eyebrows at her, “But I will do, and if Leroy knows what’s good for him probably by the end of the month.”

Harry’s features furrow, “I’m not sure that it works like that.”

“It will do,” YN shrugs, “You heard what I did out there, you saw what I saw out there. They loved me.”

Harry nodded, running the side of his finger across his lip, “You got songs?”

“I do,” She laughs, “I’m not that delusional, I’m not just going to pull this album out of nowhere.”

“Well, at least you know,” He laughs, accepting the champagne from her again, “And anyway, I’m excited to hear it, whenever it comes out.”

“Thank you,” She smiles, resting her head on her knees, “What’s next for you then, rockstar?”

“Uh,” He tilts his head slightly, “Going home for a while, and then we go on tour in three months, maybe?”

“You truly are a rockstar,” She laughs, “Well any shows here, you know I’m just a phone call away. I’m sure the audience would love for you to bring me out.”

He laughs, “I’ll keep that in mind,” He taps his cigarette out on the concrete next to him, “You know, I’m glad that this is how it ended.”

“Yeah,” YN kept her smile painted on her face, “Me too.”

“See you inside?” He asks, standing up and making his way towards the door.

“See you.”

For him, this was the end. She had sung on his album and sang in his show and now it was time for them to part ways. YN didn’t know what she expected, or what she wanted him to say but it still felt very bittersweet, especially from her perspective.

Taking two pills out of her small container, she washed them down with the champagne and walked back inside the green room. Vivienne was still where YN had left her, and she dropped down on the sofa next to her, head falling in Vivienne’s lap.

“Nice chat, babe?”

“Yeah, nice chat,” YN sighed, allowing her body to be relaxed from the drugs and alcohol in her system.

YN was lulling her head side to side to the beat of whatever song was playing in the room when the door swung open. At first, YN didn’t think anything of it but when a gorgeous girl with blonde hair rushed past her and towards the corner of the room that she knew Harry and Jeff were in, she couldn’t help but have her interest pique.

She turned her head so that she was facing Harry and the mystery girl, and her mouth dropped open when the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and immediately kissed him. His hand rested on her waist, just above the hem of the tiniest shorts YN had ever seen.

With her lips parted in shock, YN turned her head up towards Vivienne who had seen the entire thing just like her and had a similar look on her face. They definitely seemed familiar with each other, as though this wasn’t the first time that the two of them had kissed, or even been together in public. Another thing that made YN think that was that nobody else in the room, maybe apart from the groupies that were there, even batted an eyelid at the actions.

It became even more obvious to YN when the girl dropped herself onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck as though it was nothing. It really seemed like nothing when she joined the conversation with Jeff, he was laughing and so was Harry. Now that YN thought about it, that man said nothing about having a partner earlier when she asked about sleeping with the groupies, but I suppose he did keep his cards close to his chest.

“Sarah,” YN called, catching the drummer's attention from the chair that she was sitting on, “Who was that?”

“Who was who?” She asked, leaning back into the seat more.

“The girl who walked over to Harry?”

“Oh,” Sarah laughed, “That’s Molly.”

“Molly?”

“Yeah, his girlfriend,” She said as if it was nothing, “Didn’t you know? They’ve been together for a while now.”

“No,” YN shakes her head, not moving her eyes away from the couple, “I didn’t know that.”

#rm #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles series #series

117 notes · View notes

sunkendreams · 2 years

Note

I just finished under the skin! it was so perfect i would love to read part 2!!!

*ೃ༄ ⠀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍.

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭/𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭 ( 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 ) 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝟏𝟖+! 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛 (𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠).

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝟕,𝟐𝟎𝟗.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭! 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭! 𝐈’𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝/𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 & 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤! 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑, 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞! ❤️

Tommy saw you everywhere — in the singing cowbirds that called each morning, in the spectacular colors of a luminous sunrise, in the clutches of bluebonnets that blossomed around the fringes of the Hewitt homestead. You were the comforting touch, the once-skittish stranger. You were everywhere and everything, reminders of the warmth you’d brought into his life.

As days melded into weeks, your relationship with Thomas had begun to transcend into something affectionate. You assumed it was platonic, but even then, it would’ve been enough. Each night after the house grew still and filled with a bountiful silence, Tommy would come to your room. You would read each night, typically a chapter or two of whatever book you were working your way through.

Sometimes you fell asleep in the middle of reading, always waking up to a blanket wrapped around you, comfortably tucked onto your mattress. Tommy never stuck around, and sometimes you wished that he would, just once. A sliver of you might’ve subconsciously desired more, perhaps an amatory embrace, him touching you. You thought about it more times than you cared to admit — it always made you terribly embarrassed.

This evening was no different. Once the daily list of chores were completed and the orange sun disappeared beyond a darkening horizon, you headed for the bathroom. Fortunately, Charles had gotten a little more used to you — his typical harshness was steadily mellowing out, and it left you feeling far more content about everything else.

Carrying a bundle of clothes, you neatly folded them atop the stand next to the porcelain tub, filling the shimmering basin with warm water. Steam rose, covering the washroom in a sticky haze, slightly fogging up the mirror in the process. You would often bathe and then meet Tommy every evening, and he was always very punctual, lingering outside of your door.

Unbeknownst to you, Thomas lingered outside of your door for the wrong reasons, and not for the sake of punctuality. He’d become far more emboldened about watching you, even going so far as to nudge the door open a little more each time. His stomach often twisted into knots, but it was exhilarating, and you were completely irresistible. Thomas was desperate to try and change the fabric of your relationship into bordering on romance, but it scared him.

There was one instance where Charles had caught him ogling you through the gap in the door, but he never voiced disappointment or discouraged Tommy from doing it. It was never malicious, never done with any cruelty in mind. Thomas just wanted to see you. He would always stop whenever you got out of the bathtub or whenever you got dressed, but tonight, he was having a change of heart.

He’d been having dreams about you, and none of them were wholesome. Thomas’s debauched fantasies often revolved around the things he wanted to do to you, if he ever developed enough courage or confidence to do so. It was always a string of lewd and lascivious thoughts that effectively poisoned his mind, and he felt terrible for them, but it was becoming a bit of a problem. He would whimper and groan within his slumber, finding a mess in the morning.

Once the bathtub was properly full of steaming water, you swirled your hand around to ensure a perfect temperature. Your fingers nimbly shifted to the buttons of your dirtied blouse, shedding the garment into a pile. Your overalls, which had been pushed down toward your hips, followed suit, crumpling into a heap against the old, splintering floorboards.

Thomas watched, slavering like a rabid animal. There was absolutely no reason to tear his eyes away from you now as you crept toward the mirror, removing your brassiere. He’d never seen you in the flesh like this, he’d only imagined it all within dreams — and you were far more perfect than any dream. Tommy bit down upon his lower lip, nearly drawing blood to keep from whimpering. You were so beautiful that it hurt.

You were staring at your own reflection, a twinge of melancholy settling in upon your features. You were never fully content with your physicality, and the longer you ogled yourself in the mirror, the more it brought about pain. Despite whatever facade you might’ve erected, you didn’t have the best self-confidence. Tears welled within your eyes, but you hastily swiped them away, tossing your bra onto the pile.

He wasn’t oblivious — Tommy could see your countenance transform into a painful expression, especially when you gingerly prodded at your collarbone and stomach. Whatever you thought about yourself, it simply wasn’t true. Tommy suffered from the same shattered confidence about his physique as you did, but it pained him to see you so low about yourself. Here he was, standing here, watching you get naked, and all he could think about was how perfect you were.

Shimmying out of your panties, you slowly descended into the water, dunking your head underwater, tresses sticking against your head. Using one of the many washrags and soap, you scrubbed yourself down, allowing it all to collect and lather upon your flesh in heaps of suds. It was honey and vanilla, intermingled with wildflowers, a pleasant bouquet of aromas that stuck to your skin.

Thomas happened to enter your mind again, though in all actuality, he never seemed to leave. It was usually the time of night where your thoughts turned to something amorous and lustful, which embarrassed you, but you were alone, after all. You had some time, and if everybody else was asleep and Thomas was in the basement, you knew you would have to be quiet.

Washing the soap off of you, you careened backwards, resting your head against the rounded curve of the bathtub, ensuring that it was well above water. Sheepishly, you spread your legs, stealing a cautionary glance toward the cracked door. There was nothing — just you and the silence, and your string of heated imaginations. You didn’t close your eyes just yet, finding the most comfortable position that you could.

You pictured his hands, thick and massive, grabbing you by the hips to plant you into his lap, mouth buried into the crook of your neck. In your heady, amatory fantasies, he rocked you against his massive thigh, all nestled close to you. He was always a little inexperienced and flustered in your mind, which made it all the more arousing for you as your fingers perused your body, sliding between your folds.

Choking back a mewl, you clasped your free hand over your mouth, involuntarily bucking against your own digits as if they were his. The more you pictured it all, the more you moved, digits settling near your clit. It was a sluggish movement at first, letting your fingers tease and edge just around that sensitive clutch of nerves. You shut your eyes, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Tommy couldn’t comprehend what he was watching — he knew what you were doing with your knees spread apart, but it was intoxicating. Every blissful little twitch of your body made him drool, cock becoming impossibly hard within his pants, which caused quite a bit of discomfort. With one big hand poised upon the doorframe, he continued to ogle you, just to see what you’d do next.

Rolling your thumb in languid circles around your clit, the other two digits prodded and stroked at your entrance, easing you up for penetration. With your eyes clamped shut, all you could think about was Tommy, what his thick, calloused fingers would do to you. Yours were such a poor substitute, and as you continued to flick and touch at your cunt, your hand shuffled off of your mouth.

“Tommy,” You moaned, biting your knuckles instead. You were terrified that he’d wander up the stairs and hear that, thinking you were in danger or something, only to find you touching yourself to the thought of him. It was all set into motion now, and you were steamrolling through, whimpering and mewling around your own fist as you slipped one finger inside of your tight cunt, experimenting at first. “Tommy.” It was automatic at this point, sighing his name.

Disbelief was his initial response — were you really thinking about him? Thoroughly surprised and equally rattled, Thomas inhaled, his breathing becoming abnormally heavy as he let your sighs of passion saturate every thought. Even with a fractured confidence, he felt some sliver of it renewed, knowing that you shared in his lustful fantasies. When his name rolled from your tongue again, it made him shudder, like icy shackles being placed around him.

Tendrils of excitable spittle pooled from his mouth, which he hastily wiped away onto the sleeve of his striped shirt. The moment you moaned his name was the moment he actually grunted, smothering his groans into his forearm. His desperation climbed to extraordinary heights, able to feel the throbbing of his cock, tight against his pants. Precum happened to slather his clothed groin, his excitement akin to a teenage boy.

He wanted to touch himself too, but that would’ve been far too risky. Thomas was too heavy and loud, he’d make enough noise to wake up the entire household. Instead, he sluggishly ground himself against the doorframe out of sheer want, his wistfulness melding into an amalgamation of lust and adoration for you. He never imagined any girl desiring him in such a way, but as his name emerged from your pretty mouth, Thomas was completely and utterly enthralled.

With an eager swiftness, you pumped two digits in and out of your cunt, thumb continuing to rub against your clit. The stimulation sent you gasping, legs rattling like leaves as the water sloshed around you. For a moment, you swore you heard footsteps, which made you attempt to go faster to push yourself toward an orgasm. Your breathing reached a higher octave, heavier and strenuous as a tiny mewl escaped you.

In his mind, he was helping you, eager as could be. He would’ve given anything to touch you like you were doing now, and despite his inexperience, Thomas would learn for you, that much was certain. He wanted to be the one to make you squirm and make those noises, make you his. That churning possessiveness was to a boiling point, accompanied by his own lewd desires and vivid, salacious imagination.

Thomas’s grip upon the door frame was so tight that it actually cracked and splintered underneath his fingers, causing him to lurch forward. As soon as he bumped into the door, he flew backwards, knowing that it was all over, now. He listened to the water splash and your pretty, sweet noises ceased altogether. His heart was hammering so hard within his chest, and he had an inkling that you knew he was out there.

Your fingers slowed immediately, gaze anxiously darting toward the door, which was nudged open. A sliver of you wondered if it was simply the door itself, or if Thomas had come up the stairs as he had every other evening. If it was Thomas, your gut flooded with a wave of tremulous churning — he might’ve heard you, which was an embarrassing thought.

Attempting to remain furtive, you slipped your fingers from your snug cunt, breathing uneven and shaky as the floorboards creaked outside of the washroom. Your legs were quivering, and it was an unpleasant pull away from your release, a denial altogether. Lurching forward, you used the rim of the tub to pull yourself up, bare form dripping with water as you snatched a towel off of the stand.

“Tommy?” You whispered, hastily shrouding your form with a towel. There was no noise whatsoever, which made you wonder if he was outside to begin with. Terrified that it might’ve been someone other than Thomas, goosebumps formed along your spine, prickling from the chill of the water that graced your skin. Creeping toward the door, you gently shoved it open.

You nearly squeaked, running right into the masked bulk of your admirer, who stood just outside of the door. “Oh!” You gasped, holding your towel aloft with one hand. Thomas ogled you, executing an inhuman amount of resistance, especially seeing you one step away from complete nakedness. He hated how aroused he’d gotten from all of this, and it was a steep attempt to try and calm himself down from it all.

Sheepish as ever, you had a feeling that he heard you moaning his name from the washroom. It made you feel duplicitous and guilty, especially because he probably didn’t even want you in that regard. “Are you okay?” You always asked him several times within a day, but he seemed unusually hesitant this time around, visibly abashed.

Tommy was struggling with the dilemma to tell you the truth — about watching you, about how you made him feel. The risks and consequences of transparency frightened him to no end, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose you.

Flustered and squalid, the bulky man hung his head, expressing his level of shame and guilt. You were quick to comfort him, gently taking a hold of one of his massive hands, hearing some lower, guttural rumble escape him.

It was as you suspected — he definitely heard you, he wouldn’t have been acting so sheepish otherwise. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, terrified that this would effectively scare him off from ever wanting to be around you again. Flushed and troubled, you decided to do what you felt was best. There was absolutely no reason to conceal anything from Tommy. “Did …” Deep breath. “Did you hear me in the bathroom?” You whispered.

The immediate enthusiasm of his nod gave you your answer. You were completely riddled by nerves and chastened by Tommy’s confirmation, biting down upon your lower lip. You began to pull away from him in shame, red-faced and mortified. Your mumbled, swift string of apologies fell upon deaf ears as Tommy grunted in protest, gingerly tugging you back in as you reeled away.

“Goodness, I — I’m so sorry, Tommy. I’m —“ His hand clamped over your mouth, and you watched him shake his head back and forth. He was desperate to tell you how it made him feel, and so he became completely emboldened, wrapping both of his arms around your hips. Typically, the gesture alone would’ve proven too brash and too daunting, but he was insistent on making himself absolutely clear to you now — no more hiding. “You aren’t upset with me?” You were in disbelief.

Again, Thomas shook his head, flexing his arms around you to try and prove his point. As much as he found your obliviousness to be adorable, he nudged closer, thick hands idly stroking at your towel-clad form as he finally gained some semblance of confidence.

His hooded stare sent you quivering, reigniting the pit of fire that burned within your belly and pooled between your thighs, and that was when you connected some of the dots — he liked it.

With fluttering eyelashes and a stupefied stare, your lips parted to speak, but the words seemed to coagulate within the back of your throat. You wanted to ask him a salacious question, but you didn’t want it to turn awkward. Of course, what harm would it do? The both of you were adults.

Settling your palms against the crooks of his elbows, you gently caressed against his marred, muscled skin. You watched him shudder at the contact, prompting you to smile.

“Let me get dressed,” Your hands gave his taut, thick arms an affectionate squeeze, and begrudgingly, Tommy released you. “You can go sit in my room.” With a more encouraging tone, Thomas was agreeable, lumbering toward your quarters instead.

You exchanged one piece of fabric for the other, discarding your towel and putting on your nightgown, instead. You didn’t wear anything underneath, which might’ve been intentional.

Drying your tresses with the towel, you abandoned your pile of clothing in the washroom for the time being, joining Tommy within the sanctuary of your smaller bedroom. There was one improvement, and that was the bed itself — new mattress and an actual frame to accompany it instead of the floor.

Tommy was sitting along the edge, perched with his hands folded in his lap. It took you a fraction of a second to notice the impressive bulge pressing against the front of his pants.

Tommy’s mind wasn’t exactly consumed by any reading tonight — he was wholly preoccupied, thinking about you moaning his name and snuggling against his chest. When you gently shut the door behind you, he straightened his hulking slouch, eyes glued to your face. He couldn’t have pictured a more beautiful woman than you, and he felt immensely lucky.

He watched as you snaked closer, gently winding your way between his legs, hands settling against his stupendously-large shoulders. “Thomas,” You began, tone hushed as if the two of you were conspiring, “Did you like hearing me?” Thomas wasn’t dull — he knew exactly what you were referring to. His stomach twisted into excitable knots as drool welled up within his maw again. He kept his hands firmly planted upon his legs, not touching you unless you said he could.

His head of earthly-hued curls bounced fervently, his enthusiasm a very obvious thing. Careening into your embrace, he tilted forward into your palms, face mere centimeters from yours. Thomas made his enjoyment of your moans known with his nodding, digits curling into tight fists as he resisted the urge to hold you. An unintelligible rumble escaped him when you flushed with scarlet, his self-control at an all-time high.

Euphoric and flattered, you couldn’t help yourself, now. You wanted Tommy so terribly, and now that mutual desires were beginning to find their way out into the open, you relaxed, digits smoothing out any creases upon his striped shirt. He was mammoth compared to you, all thicker weight and beefy muscle that you absolutely adored. His husky breathing made you quiver with delirium, your body becoming balmy.

Your breath hitched within your throat, awash with amatory thoughts as your fingers gently perused through his mane of tangled curls, sweeping them away from his pretty eyes. “You can touch me, Tommy.” Your encouragement was effective and immediate, as Tommy’s enormous hands cupped your hips, kneading at your supple flesh through the nightgown. “Do you wanna hear me again?” The implications were crystal-clear.

His giddy, eager nodding made you giggle, and to which, he tugged you closer, burying his face against the crook of your shoulder. That leathery, roughened bite of the mask would touch your skin, and you melted into his strong arms when he’d gathered the courage to kiss your neck. Thomas could barely fathom this scenario — he never expected such a thing to happen. Now, his exhilaration was reaching great levels, inhaling your honeyed scent in one gustatory breath.

In the spirit of transparency, Thomas scarcely understood what he was doing. Of course, he had a general idea coupled with his fantasies, but this was reality, and here, he lacked experience. He was hoping you would be vocal if he did something wrong. Those unyielding, sturdy hands continued to roll against your hips, rough digits sliding near the back of your thigh. His affectionate squeezes and experimental groping were making you hot, red-faced and wistful.

Slowly, you drew yourself upward, letting one of your knees sink into the mattress, bed frame groaning underneath the newfound weight. Tommy watched in awe, immediately becoming flustered and curious as to what you intended. Swinging one leg over, you plopped yourself down atop his burly thigh. He was too wide and too big to really straddle him in the way that you wanted, but this was a proper substitute.

Thomas moved backward to let your knees find their bearing against the plush surface, one hand steadying your hips, and the other rubbing at your torso. Initially, you almost expected him to be rough and animalistic, but this was far more endearing than anything else. His innocuous yet exploratory behavior was arousing to you, and you felt held, metaphorically.

Tilting forward, your hand came to snake against his wide chest, idly fiddling with his tie. You wanted to see him without any obstruction of clothing, but that seemed like it might’ve been too much for him, especially now. Pressing your lips to the divide where flesh became masked, Tommy let out another rumble of approval, mouth searching for yours. This would be his first kiss, he realized.

Fortunately, your pace was intentionally sluggish and tender, kissing him through the misshapen gap in his mask. It was slightly awkward, especially with the callous bite of leather scratching your skin, but you were elated just to kiss him. Tommy seemed receptive, but hesitant to actually reciprocate such an entanglement. His mouth didn’t move, prompting you to hover, hands roving over his chest and shoulders.

“Don’t be scared, Tommy,” You crooned, your voice kept at a sweeter, hushed octave. Petting at his wild, curly tresses with one of your hands, you listened to him grunt, face nestling just underneath your jaw. “You’re so sweet.” Murmurs of praise slipped from your tongue, spurring Tommy on as he pressed kisses all along your neck and jawline, as if warming up for when he tried to kiss your mouth.

It was a sloppy embrace, and Thomas’s inexperience bled through, but you thoroughly adored just how much he wanted to please you. The mask was no hindrance, and you ignored the unpleasant abrading of that patchwork muzzle. Your lips tangled together, brazen and full of both passion and lust, your fingers settling at the nape of his neck. Tommy was struggling to find his rhythm, somewhat embarrassed, but kissing you was so perfect.

Those big, rugged hands continued to mold your flesh, positioned at your hips and just below your breasts. Tommy was itching to see you again without your nightgown, despite how beautiful it looked on you. His throbbing erection was prodding into your leg, an extension of his desperation for you, groin still uncomfortably slathered with precum from watching you earlier.

Feeling brash, his hand skirted upward, enclosing his palm around your breast, rolling your clothed nipple against his fingers. It elicited the noise he’d been dying to hear, a breathy moan as you rocked yourself onto his thigh. He kissed you again, but his mind became curious, ultimately — he wanted to kiss you in other places. As much as he swooned over your pretty, rosy lips, Thomas was contemplating everywhere else, especially your legs.

There were several ornate buttons that held some of your gown aloft, or merely covered any indecent parts of the body. Thomas grunted, flicking a thick finger through each button, watching the garment slouch atop your shoulders. He nudged you, lascivious stare meeting your starstruck gaze as he gingerly tugged upon your gown, as if asking for permission.

“Do you want it all off or just the top?” You inquired, canting your head to one side. Tommy was contemplating, though he did like seeing the white fabric all disheveled on you — it was wildly attractive. He opted for the top, prodding at the wide, pale straps of your nightgown. You loosened them up until it pooled around your ribcage, exposing your pert breasts to the lofty little bedroom.

Everything about you was flawless, true perfection — Tommy wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. Your flesh was akin to some unblemished canvas, soft and supple underneath his roughened, weather-beaten hands. Tugging you as close as you could go, he nuzzled toward your chest, kissing your collarbone and shoulders, feeling your nimble digits weave throughout his hair again, which he cherished.

As soon as his lips curiously smacked against your hardened nipple, you moaned, squirming atop his thigh. Tommy wondered if he did something incorrectly, but your immediate string of praises and reassurance said otherwise. “So good, Tommy,” You whimpered, which only prompted him to suck and kiss a little harder, vigor kicking in. “Such a good boy.” You sighed, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair.

With a contented, baritone purr, Thomas obeyed and reveled in your praise, your breast stimulated by his eager maw. One of his hands hastily moved to squeeze and knead at the plushness of your unattended breast, shivering whenever you mewled and moaned. He never lacked commitment, that much was for sure, his suckling turning borderline greedy before he moved off of your chest with a grunt.

You were soaked between your legs, leaving behind a growing splotch of moisture on Tommy’s thigh. You rocked into the muscles of his leg a time or two, attempting to find the perfect spot, which took a bit of experimenting. His wandering mouth tugged off of your swollen breast, leaving behind spittle and a crimson coloration from where he’d suckled. It took a mere fraction of a second for his attention to flutter toward the cleft between your thighs, glistening with arousal.

Curling his hefty digits into the hem of your nightgown, he gently tugged it upward, promptly intercepted by your voice. “Let me take care of you first, Tommy.” You crooned, pressing several soft, butterfly kisses against his face, palm settling atop his straining girth. The poor man let out some throaty, husky whimper from mere clothed contact, lazily jolting into your dainty little hand. “I want to touch you, too.” The whimsical echo of your voice left him reeling, watching as you shifted atop his leg to reach for his belt.

As much as he wanted to explore your body, Tommy was elated that you were more than willing to offer him the same semblance of pleasure. His breathing became ragged, heavy with excitement as your swift digits unbuckled his belt, dutifully loosening up his trousers. Unclasping the front of his dirtied pants, you sluggishly reached down, fingers finding his warm, thick erection. He was definitely sizable, that wasn’t much of a surprise to you whatsoever.

Tommy shuddered, wrapping his beefy arm around your hips, digits idly massaging against your curves. His other hand was perched back against the mattress as he tilted backward, only slightly, enough to give you some room to work. Fishing him out of the constraints of his pants, you became sheepish, somewhat intimidated by his size. His thick girth swelled within your soft palm, throbbing and almost painfully hard, leaking with tendrils of precum.

Using one hand, which didn’t even wrap fully around his cock, you began to languidly stroke in sluggish motions, watching him jerk into your palm again. “It’s okay,” You soothed, feeling his head settle near your shoulder. “You’re so handsome, so strong,” You cooed, showering him in plenty of affectionate appraisals, gingerly caressing his tresses. “Just relax, Tommy.” Your encouragement was effective once again, as he slouched into you, his breathing still uneven as you handled his erection with care.

With a soft hum, you continued, increasing your pace as your small hand pumped up and down along his length, his grunts increasing in volume. It was endearing, the way he careened into you, finding somewhere to nestle as your fingers stroked at his cock, from the thick head to the very base.

Tommy wasn’t going to last very long at this rate, feeling your lips pepper themselves against his forehead and temples. He involuntarily jerked into your hand again, some unintelligible noise escaping him. He was thriving on your contact, your fingers masterfully working up and down his cock.

Commotion from downstairs caused him to tense up, the both of you becoming startled. Once Charles’s string of drunken curses rang out, parading throughout the lower level of the home, you continued again. The pad of your thumb salaciously caressed across the thick head, drawing out another rumble from him. Your hand steadily jerked up and down against his cock, feeling Tommy’s grip against your gown tighten.

The vigorous, passionate drawl of your hand was heavenly to Tommy, who lazily bucked and jolted into your hand again, desperate for friction. He’d never been touched like this before unless it was by his own devices, but you handled him with a certain level of care, selfless in satisfying him. His breathing was ragged, head pushing into your shoulder as you pumped at his throbbing cock, from base to tip. Another grunt left him, this one a slightly higher octave.

“You feel so good,” You whispered, adjusting yourself atop his thigh. Your hand was relentless, wishing to draw an orgasm out of him. Tommy couldn’t help himself whenever he wantonly jutted into your palm, grunting all the while. He was partially holding himself back out of fear on where to cum — he didn’t want you to have to take another bath. “Almost there?” Your voice was encouraging nonetheless, and he fervently nodded, pinning you close to his chest.

Your strokes became slower, though far more touchy-feely instead of loose. That was enough to make Thomas shudder, burying his face into the crook of your neck as your hand palmed and coddled his cock. His length felt uncomfortably swollen within your tiny grasp, and with another thrust of his hips against you, he let out some strange noise. His orgasm was a rush — hot and intense, nearly blinding.

You moved yourself just a little bit, letting him spill his cum all over your thigh instead of anywhere else. Tommy actually watched, arousal pooling within his gut as his sticky seed slathered your skin instead of the mattress or the floor. He was panting, resting his head against your shoulder. With several affectionate, loving squeezes, he expressed his gratitude, placing kisses all along your jaw and neck.

“Do you feel a little better?” A soft giggle escaped you, and Thomas nodded several times over, perking up to stare at you, instead. His massive hand lifted to gingerly cup your cheek, a gesture which made you crumple. Kissing the roughened, calloused plane of his palm, you keened into his embrace, listening for Charles. There was nothing again — just the silence, and the chirping of crickets outside.

Thomas wanted to return the favor — he wasn’t finished with you yet. Tucking himself back into his pants, he plucked you up by your hips, settling you into his spot instead, nestled into the indent made by his hulking form. This time, he stood between your legs, using some of your blanket to dutifully clean your thigh off — that would probably need to be washed.

As your nightgown hitched up around your hips, Tommy quivered in anticipation, drawing his leathery palm around your inner thighs. It felt like velvet, soft compared to the unevenness of his hands. You shivered, flushed with an incendiary heat as he neared your soaked cunt, one hand rubbing at your haunch while the other became exploratory. In one deft movement, he swiped his digits against your core, listening to you moan.

He didn’t exactly know what to do with his fingers, but it didn’t really bother you. You patiently waited for him to touch you again, but instead, you were met with the sight of him tasting his digits, ogling you with a terrifying intensity. It excited you to no end, your mouth falling agape as Tommy sank to his knees, massive frame buried between your legs instead. Wrapping both of his muscled forearms around your plush thighs, he kissed your soft flesh, the bite of the leather causing some pleasant pricks of pain.

Squirming atop the mattress, you slumped back entirely, back flat against the uneven surface. Tommy’s mouth pressed everywhere, from your thighs to hipbone, leather muzzle scraping across your flesh as to bring you back into the moment. With a thunderous grunt, his tongue split past your folds, warm and deft as he tasted you with an experimental slowness.

Choking back a moan, your hand bunched into the fabric that had collected around your waist, legs squeezing into Tommy’s massive shoulders. You could hear him let out that familiar, purr-like noise as he swarmed in for more, tongue languidly moving across your cunt, the leather snug against your clit. You wiggled your hips just a little bit, and Tommy responded by tugging you closer, his mouth wet with his drool and your own arousal.

“Tommy,” You whined, your head lolled back against the mattress, hair in some disheveled heap. He was rather attentive, careening his tongue into you at any little sound you made. Inexperience would prove to be insignificant, mouth pursing near your cunt as his mask rolled against your clit again. Bucking down onto his face, you let out a garbled apology, feeling his hand soothingly caress across your thigh.

You were so lost to euphoria that you barely noticed Thomas’s hasty removal of his mask, that familiar muzzle draped to one side of his visage. The behemoth of a man never fully emerged from between your thighs, never enough for you to see him. As soon as he was free, Tommy became borderline feral, mouth all over your cunt, sloppy and passionate.

Volume was something of an issue, especially when the two of you ceased or stilled at the banging noises from downstairs. You choked back your moans, feeling any sound become frozen within the base of your throat. Tommy’s thick, rough-hewn digits tenderly squeezed and kneaded into your thighs, tresses shrouding his hooded stare from view. His tongue did wonders, even if it was messy — you loved the sensation, and you loved him.

You loved him.

Part of you couldn’t differentiate what was true, coherent thinking and what was swirling about in your salacious brain, but you believed that was true. Of everyone in this household, Tommy was the one you loved, and that was satisfactory to you. A myriad of stifled whimpers left you, warmth rushing across your body, pooling between your legs. “Keep going, Tommy,” You whined, encouraging him further.

The resonant grunt that you received was all the confirmation that you needed, feeling his lips purse around your clit. It didn’t stay that way for very long as he attempted to navigate through what pleasured you the most, what made you wet. Your back arched slightly as he swiped his tongue across your cunt again, mouth relentlessly prodding at all of your sensitive bits. You wanted to prod him back toward your clit, but granted, whatever he was doing now happened to be perfect.

Perhaps the sloppiness and inexperience of it all was what made it so blissful. Tommy was simply doing whatever he could to make you squirm, grunting his way through. He tried again, lips circling around your clit, making you squeal and moan, your digits clamped tightly into the sheets. Those sounds were good, right? Thomas let out some rumble, akin to a thunderous growl as he pursed his lips again, sucking on your clit.

“Tommy!” It made you writhe in ecstasy, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. Your cry of complete and utter delight was enough to convey your enjoyment of such a simple action, and so Tommy continued like some predator devouring prey. He was vigorous and passionate in his actions, but never rough or forceful — it was the perfect balance of eagerness and an endearing, tender streak.

One hand snaked from your thigh to cunt, deft fingers prodding against your entrance. It was sudden and surprising, but enough to make you spur him on. “Please,” You whimpered, desperate to feel his fingers inside of you. “Touch me, Tommy,” Your wish was his command, and immediately, he was searching for entry as two of his thick digits pushed inside of you. In accompaniment with his mouth, it was euphoric.

Thomas was enthralled — he was enraptured, watching you unravel like this because of him. If he could do it a hundred times over, he would — he would get on his knees and beg if he had to. If this was what it was like with you now, his fantasies turned completely vulgar, thinking about pushing his cock inside of you instead of his fingers. He wanted to make that part more special, but he could dream for now.

Hungry, greedy noises resonated from between your silky thighs, a resting place which Thomas enjoyed to an extreme degree. His lackadaisical way of eating you out was beginning to grow far more attentive, tongue thrusting and circling around any sensitive nerve, whatever made you moan. For as big as he was, his digits certainly fit the bill as he steadily rocked them in and out of you, a purr-like sound escaping him.

Curling closer, your hands fumbled their way downward, finding purchase within his tangled heap of dark hair, gentle enough to not cause any pain. Tommy didn’t stop, ravishing the taste of you, fingers pistoning at a swift pace. He was massive, comfortably settled between your legs as he drew you closer toward an orgasm, gaze momentarily fluttering upwards.

Your countenance openly displayed your overwhelming pleasure, contorted into a blissful expression, lips parted and eyes half-lidded. Being buried against your cunt was a convenient way to mask his marred visage, mouth lifting slightly before coming back down against your slit. Rocking toward his face, you squeaked and mewled, legs quivering as he caressed along one of your thighs, groping into the curve of your rump.

“Tom — Tommy,” You panted, finally spotting the lack of the leathery divide, no obstruction of that patchwork muzzle. He sheepishly met your euphoric stare, hesitating for a moment when he realized he was without his mask, but with a hooded glower, his fingers curled into you, lips colliding against your clit. It made you squirm, back arching off of the bed, moaning several breathy praises as he worked you into your release.

There was a lack of subtlety in suppressing your sounds, whimpering and groaning as you came. It was beyond perfect and had you seeing stars, feeling Tommy’s mouth dutifully clean you up with little noises here and there. His tongue swept over your slit a time or two, a low rumble resonating from him as you settled down, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace. Thomas’s cheek keened into your thigh, fingers removing themselves from you.

“That was so good, so …” You were speechless, gingerly kneading your fingers into Tommy’s tresses and around his skull, which elicited some purr-like noise from him. You wanted him to lift his face up enough for you to see, but he was intent on staying where he was, his gaze sparkling with adoration. “Perfect.” You sighed, nibbling upon your lower lip.

Thomas kissed your inner thigh, visibly hesitant and cautious about his movements. One of your hands untangled itself from his curly locks, cradling his face, fingers embracing patches of roughened flesh. He froze at this, but the mere touch alone was like fire and ice, and he careened into your palm, allowing you to touch his jaw and his disfigured, misshapen nose.

A comfortable silence replaced the wails of pleasure, and Tommy promptly sank into contentment, a post-amorous daze. For as fearful as he was about you seeing his face, he couldn’t get enough of you touching him, especially feeling the pad of your thumb trace little circles around his scarred mouth. With a resounding grunt, he slunk forward, finally emerging from between your thighs, his head coming to rest against your stomach.

There was no sign of disgust or recoil from you as you saw his face — it was just Tommy. Part of his nose seemed to be missing, his visage weighing with the array of scars around his mouth and jaw. Even then, he was still so heartbreakingly handsome, dark curls framing his face in a picturesque manner. Your lips twitched into an exuberant smile, continuing to stroke at his uneven skin and his pretty, brunette hair.

“You’re so wonderful,” You cooed, watching him snuggle into your belly with a look of love. “Such a strong man, a handsome man.” Thomas was completely and utterly obsessed with you, elated beyond any sense of the word. You were the one — he was yours, he wanted to be so terribly. “Do you want to stay with me?” Even if he might’ve been agreeable to your invitation, you just wanted to make sure.

Thomas nodded several times over, watching you move over to make room for him. The bed creaked and groaned from the newfound weight of his hulking form, watching you curl up with him almost immediately. He put his mask back on for now, basking in the serenity of the moment. He was already thinking about doing this again with you, gut churning with anticipation and a swell of desire. He couldn’t get enough of you, now.

Snuggling into his broad chest, you felt his strong arms scoop you up, pinning you against him. Despite the Texas heat, nights like these were a touch cooler — even then, you were more than delighted to let Tommy hold you. You were both locked in a stare, fingers roaming over his shoulders, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Don’t leave me, Tommy.” You whispered, lower lip quivering as a surge of emotion hit you.

The thought of leaving you terrified him — there was no way that he would part from you now. You were everything to him, his light — his beautiful little bird. To reassure you, Tommy shook his head vigorously, several times over to ensure that you understood. He rubbed at your sides, nudging his forehead against yours. Clinging to him, you felt him point at your chest, as if he were attempting to make the same demand.

“Never,” The soft lull of your hushed crooning made him melt, another string of low rumbling escaping him. “I’ll never leave you. Promise.” You murmured, pressing your lips against his as to seal the deal. He was far more receptive now that the two of you had established a deeper level of intimacy, his colossal palm spread out along your back.

With a protective hold upon your hips, Thomas idly traced his other hand against your torso, gently caressing your clothed flesh. The two of you were snug against one another, a feeling which made you feel incredibly safe and loved. That was how you always wanted to feel — you knew you would with Tommy. Allowing your entanglement to last a moment longer, you sluggishly drew your lips away, hearing him grunt.

“Get some sleep, Tommy.” Your smile was as bright as could be, bristling with exuberance as you tucked your head against his chest. He shifted a time or two to get comfortable, still keeping his arms around you, breathing beginning to even out.

You were everywhere, Thomas thought — his mind, his heart, and under his skin. He realized then that he wanted you everywhere always, and that was enough for him to tug you closer, big hand splayed out across your back. You were the first person he’d ever wanted like this, wanted to keep.

You weren’t going anywhere.

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