#brown girl reader

[ninasixthgun]

Introduction page

Hello, welcome to my place. Sit and relax. There isn't much to see but with your help we can build something that you would like to see soon.

I have my Open Requests. I intend to write more content for a more diverse audience in culture, specially to brown girls. Only SFW , she/her reader for now.

Tv shows/Movies

Stranger things

Descendants

Books

The cruel prince

Acotar

Please don't hesistate to message me if you have any other themes in the list 😘

[2neaky]

—𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕🍨

[punkeropercyjackson]

Jason Todd.Also Megumi Fushiguro.Also Percy Jackson but by P*rcicos and gods fuckers specifically.Also Todoroki Shouto.Also Sasuke Uchiha.Also Ichigo Kurosaki.Also Hobie Brown.Also Marshall Lee Abadeer.Also Prince Zuko.Also Nicholas D. Wolfwood-Y'know you guys get it

(Oh woah,almost 400 notes and like almost 100 at least don't realize i'm insulting you and calling you basic pick mes.Well,thanks for liking and subscribing anyway ig)

[grimmbunniee]

Clearing up the spider punk/ hobie brown age discourse

So Hobies a fucking adult and the director himself confirmed it.

[murdrdocs]

i spend a lot of time thinking about sucking hobie off ... (gn!reader but mention of lip gloss)

like there's a little bit of a free use element there on his side, because he knows how insatiable you are when it comes to him. lots of the time, he just has to look at you, and he'll see that shine in your eyes, he notices how your gaze focuses more so on the strip of visible skin between his worn in shirt and his low jeans. he jokes that you're drooling, and you believe it, thumb swiping at the corner of your lip to pick up nothing but lip gloss.

you don't even have to ask, even if you did he would say yes. but hobie beckons you over, a tilt of his head, a low murmur of "c'mere", and then you're kneeling on the floor between his legs, trying to be patient even though your hands are fisting the fabric of your pants and your top row of teeth are gnawing on your bottom lip.

he unbuttons his jeans and pulls the zipper down, then his hands are at his side and he lets you do the rest. hobie watches as you pull his jeans down a little, then his boxers, cock springing free and your eyes getting just a bit wider in reaction.

sometimes you'll prolong it a little, wrap your hand around the base of him, kiss around the tip, kitten lick the tip a few times before widening your mouth enough to start to take him in, little by little. other times –– most times –– you're so horny, and so eager, that the wet heat of your mouth engulfs hobie without much teasing, a low, almost astonished, hiss leaving his lips as he watches you take as much as you can in one go.

he always encourages you, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks, or stroking your hair. the pad of his thumb running under your eye to catch leaking tears or wipe them away, doing the same under your lips to clean up the drool that's actually there this time.

it's a relationship that works extremely well. driven by your constant need to have the weight of hobie's dick pressed against your tongue, and taste the tang of his cum when it slides down your throat, and hobie's love for having his lover on their knees for him, giving the best head he'll ever get just for the joy of it.

[dxndxrxvxbe]

for the last year or so my little sister had been telling me her favorite Robin was "the girl one". Dude I thought she meant Steph she was talking about Carrie Kelley

[disgustingtwitches]

"Brown skin, pretty brown eyes"

1.6k words

Gaz x Brown Reader (´⌣`ʃƪ) just makes me swing my feet in the air thinking about it

[Unprotected sex, creampie, praise, afab reader]

MDNI

You'd see him sporadically. He'd show up for a while; then he'd disappear for weeks or even months. Then he'd come back, sit at the same spot, and order the same thing,

"Just the usual with white wine please."

He kind of had a boujee energy, but when he'd hand you the menu and say:

"Thank you, darling."

He'd smile at you in a way that said, I'll bend you over the table right now if you ask nicely.

"Of course, love."

You'd smile back in a way that screamed, Please, please, please do it.

You'd wonder who'd make the first move. Christ, it's been nothing but pussyfooting for about two years now. Pretty boy like him probably wanted you to beg for his number. You almost caved at the beginning, but now it's a stupid competition. Your pride versus his ego.

One day he came in with a friend; some fidgety, chatty, Scottish thing. Shook the whole table when he bounced his leg. Smiled so brightly it was like staring into the sun. They jabbered the whole time they picked at their lunch. Occasionally, the Scotsman would look back at you with a goofy grin before turning back to his plate. As soon as you set the cheque down, they both reached for it. His friend was faster though, laughing and paying for the both of them. You rang him up and brought back his card.

"Thank you for coming, always a pleasure to see you."

You avoided eye contact in fear of melting into a puddle infront of him and his friend.

"Same to you."

He nodded. His friend oohed as you walked away, that earned him a shush and punch on the arm.

"Lovely place ye got here, take care!"

The mohawked man waved as he was ushered (shoved) out the door, pretty boy looked back and flashed that smile that made your knees buckle. You cleared the table and looked at the receipt. It was hard to make out, but it read:

Such a honour to finally meet the missus,

(020) 7946 0801

For the next few days while you were getting ready, you'd look at the paper taped up to corner of your mirror. Everyday pretty boy would come in with the same song and dance; same order, same coy looks, same touch when he passed back the menu. Friday rolled around and you were sitting home, mindlessly watching some dramedy about medical malpractice and nursing a bottle of rosé. Fuck it, you said to yourself while picking up the phone. Brrr brrr...brrr brrr...brr-

"Hello?"

There was that deliciously familiar voice. Your stomach did flips.

"Yes, hello... It's uh-"

"The waitress from Hawksmoor."

There's a moment of silence, like you both can't believe this is happening.

"I got your number from your friend, he left it on his receipt."

"Yeah, of course he did..."

You heard some hushed gibberish. You think this is a mistake.

"I'm sorry if I-"

"No, no! I'm just -shutthefuckup- I'm just watching the game with a friend right now."

You can hear a recognizable Scottish accent coming through the speaker of your phone.

"I never caught your name."

Unlike his friend, pretty boy always left cash. So you couldn't creep and read the name on the card like you did with, what was it? MacTavish?

"Kyle. Kyle Garrick."

You repeated the name, giving it a swirl around your mouth like a wine, testing the mouthfeel. Thinking about how moanable it is. Wondering if you should take his last name or hyphenate the both of yours. There's some muffled conversation from the other end, his voice came back on the line, snapping you out of your daydream.

"Would you like to go out for drinks tomorrow?"

Your heart raced.

"Yeah tomorrow's perfect."

He wished you a goodnight and it was like you were hearing the words for the first time, sounded like a song. Then you heard the word parroted in a brash Glaswegian accent in the background. Click.

~

The date started off a little awkward, two years of nothing more than a few rehearsed lines made it hard to think of other things to say. Well... you could share what's been on both your minds this whole time, but you have to work up to those kinds of things. You learn that he's in the military, just turned thirty, currently lives in Soho. Sun and moon in Leo. Likes wine. Watches romcoms even though the corny jokes makes him cringe. Likes to travel. He'd ask a lot of questions about you too; lean in and smirk whenever you'd go on a little rant about yourself. As the evening went on, the place started getting busy and it got louder and louder until you were talking directly in each other's ears. He was wearing something that smelled divine. And expensive. Sweet vanilla, with a touch of leather and cedar. You could just lick it off his neck right now if he'd let you.

"It's getting loud here, should we go somewhere quieter?"

His breath warm on your neck, hand resting lightly on your knee. You were at his place as soon as you brought up the idea. He conveniently picked a bar less than a minute away from his flat. It was warm, cozy, lived in. Knickknacks on shelves, books on the coffee table, the comforting scent of his cologne filled the room; this was his sanctuary.

"Your choice, love."

He looked at you while you both sat on the opposite end of the huge couch. You landed on Roman Holiday, it was just something nice to put on in the background. You barely paid attention to the movie while you and him slowly got closer, scooting more and more until you were touching knees. One hand slipped into another. One head leaned on the other. One arm wrapped around a shoulder. One pair of lips softly meets the other. One shirt slipped onto the floor, then one more joins it. Pants followed. His touch was so gentle when sliding off your panties. His eyes went wide and staring at your glistening folds,

"Got myself something real pretty, hm?"

He dove into your heat with pent up passion. Moaned while his mouth was sealed around your nub, the vibrations sending chills up your thighs. It felt so good, you rolled your eyes back,

"Eyes on me, love."

He looked up at you with those big warm eyes. He straightened up with your legs still on his shoulders, pushing your hips up to his face. He took long, show licks from your entrance to your clit, sucking softly and quickly, repeating the movement until you squirmed and begged to get fucked. He flashes his perfect teeth at you while he leaned over, giving you a wet kiss letting you taste yourself. He pulls down his boxers, his dick was just as pretty as the rest of him; thick, veiny, precum glossy on a tip that is a lighter shade than the rest of him, he even had a cute little beauty mark on his shaft. With one leg over his shoulder, he lined himself up. Eased himself into you, hips stuttering when you took him to the base.

"Good fucking girl."

He'd coo while taking long, slow strokes. Teasingly slow. You begged for him to go faster. His dick jumps inside you when he hears that.

"Mhm, just use your words love."

He leaned back, placing his hands on your soft mound, using his thumbs to expose your clit. Soft groans escaped him while watching your reactions to him brushing over it. Looking down at himself sliding in and out of you he'd say,

"That's my pretty brown girl, yeah?"

Grips your hips and starts pounding into you. While you whimpered whenever he'd kiss his tip to your cervix, he praises how perfect your nipples looked firm and bouncing from each stroke.

"Fucking perfect... Unbelievable..."

He'd paw and knead your chest, leaning forward and pressing desperate kisses all over your face.

"Look down,"

He pants, pushing the back of your head forward so you're watching him fuck you, foreheads touching.

"See how nice we look together, yeah?"

He'd go on to make you cum so many times you'd lose track of how many orgasms you had. One after another, over and over until you saw stars.

"Just one more, I promise. You got one more in you, right darling?"

He'd slow down, seemingly talking to your sopping wet cunt,

"Can I please finish here? Right here feels so good."

Cum drunk and senseless, you beg to feel him finish inside you. He wraps you up in his strong arms tightly, his lips pressed up right up on your neck, right under your ear.

"Little piece of heaven you are. My fucking little brown angel, yeah? My perfect fuckin-"

He'd bury his face into the couch while moaning, pumping deep inside you. Once his dick stops twitching, he covers you in kisses, singing praises between them.

"Took me so well...such a good girl...made me so proud."

He wipes you down with a warm towel before carrying you to bed. Fucked out, you're already sleeping before he slides in bed next to you. The next morning, you wake up to light kisses and bites trailing down your chest and stomach, stopping right above your nub. Those adoring brown eyes looking up at yours while sticking his tongue out and flicking it against you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, sinking fingers into the soft flesh.

"Made just for me, no one else... Only for me... Gorgeous, gorgeous girl..."

He'd say between licks. Thank God you had today off.

[alissa3000]

I need him biblically, I need him in a way that is concerning to feminism 🙏

[hazzelle-kento]

Sunday fluff 🌳

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

What people think Hobie is doing vs what he's actually doing

[nemesyaaa]

bf!pope x earthy/boho!gf!reader (moodboards and aesthetic) i don't like it at all (feel like it's rushed...)but i love the earthy core so bad.

“ sweet creature, sweet creature. wherever i go. you bring me home ” harry styles lyrics.

i picture earthy!boho!reader like the most peaceful soul and mind. she has her own world, and bring pope in everytime. she's always smiling and helpful. she helps pope, even if he doesnt ask. this reader don't try to fix him, or whatever, she's just caring. and try to understand why the kindness boy of the world doesnt have the most beautiful and heartwarming life ? she help him to reconnect with nature but also his culture, she's like the daughter of the nature, an earthy nymph who love peace more than anything.

but she also loves jazz, random refreshing places, she has a bunch of cats that she never forget to feed. pope helps her to rescue some abandonned animals, bobby heyward really love her, she lives in her garden with full of flowers and plants like a fairy, she loves making homemade meals, hanging out near lakes, taking therapeutic walks, staying in the grass for hours.

while pope works, she paints him. because she loves his focused face. he's like a muse. his face is a work of art.

she has a ton of boho jewelry that she shares with pope. because he is not afraid to wear necklaces, bracelets, foot and waist chains like her.

she is definitely an artist who makes music (flute and tom-tom), and indie films. she smoke weed.

she wants to adopt children later.

even though she is uncertain about her future, all she knows is that she wants to be with pope forever. she save money for their future needs.

dynamics core ;

you love taking your shower at the waterfall with him, kissing him while the water continues to flow over the two of you. you like to ride bikes in pairs on abandoned paths. you like to take him to drink coconuts and bissap. you like hanging out with him at the bookstore and especially when he carries you on his back because you're too lazy to walk.

I know this man loves braiding your hair, but especially adding flowers, jewelry and accessories.

he loves taking photos of you when you have a butterfly on your skin, a ladybug on your hand, a chick on your legs, a cat in your arms.

he's in love your honor. and you're his safe place.

( hope you like it bby @annoyingassleo <33 i did my best actually or i tried. )

[2neaky]

—𝘗𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘛👜

[punkeropercyjackson]

Actually,Hobie isn't universal punk,he's afropunk.He's been black since his creation and the comics Spiderband has Riri Willians on it and he acts very distinctively black and his tastes are black too and the movies amped this up big time in design and personality-He has wicks,for goodness sake-and his relathionship in Atsv with Miles is a metaphor for black solidarity and his single love interest is a black woman from his Prowler verse.Hobie's black and punk and you cannot seperate these and i put black first for a reason cause white and nonblack poc punk Spiderman fans be outta pocket with him too often.Hobie's not a generic altie,he's a punk nigga and that's why he'd never be caught dead at Hot Topic or making himself a thirst trap or picking on his friends to be funny and thinks smoking is gross and isn't a cornball 'male feminist' but a womanist and is convinced he's unattractive and unappealing thanks to growing up in such a violently antiblack place like 1970s England that's even worse than our version thanks to it's fascist caused apocalyptic status and he said 'I hate labels' as a trans thing but specifically based off his gender experiences and gender trauma as a black person that led to him becoming unlabeled to begin with and it also refers to white people telling him he should just say he's english instead of jamaican-english.The latter half is headcanons based but all entierly from canon Hobie and irl blackness and has no contradiction because of how well-written he is.Hobie would not act,do or like something or someone just because it's aracial alt but he WOULD absolutely LOVE something if it's afropunk or even just regular black.Spiderpunk is black.Don't you ever take that from him or from me or from us(🖐🏼🖐🏽🖐🏾🖐🏿 < That being us).He's black peoples before he is anyone else's

[avidread3r]

Miguel: *sigh*

...

Miguel:*SIGHHH*

y/n: and why are we sighing?

Miguel: beCAUSE gwen and her little friend group said something about going somewhere and haven't returned.

y/n: maybe that's because they went somewhere and are still there? they're kids, they're just hanging out doing kid stuff.

Miguel: it's been four hours. FOUR HOURS!

y/n: I take just as long when I'm out. why are you so worried? they're fine.

Miguel: how are you not worried?

...

Miguel: you've been stalking them haven't you?

Y/n: it's not stalking! I'm just keeping an eye on them and their location...and what they're doing.

Miguel: that's called stalking.

Y/n: it's called being a concerned parent Miguel!

Meanwhile the kids:

[murdrdocs]

I just thought this was funny because Hobie's british

He's just dying in the heat and his S/O (who deals with it a lot better) is just walking around in a light jacket

this is sooo silly tehe

there's a near record breaking heat permeating london today. you were quickly made aware of the fact as soon as you woke up, radio already turned on to a low volume, another motown hit disrupted by the man who'd excitedly announced the weather.

the thing you notice next is the loud whirring of the fan coming from somewhere in the apartment. you rub your eyes, let your senses come to for a second, and you realize that there's multiple fans going off around the flat, even though you know you and hobie only owned one floor fan when you went to bed last night.

as your eyes clear up, you notice a new box fan just a few feet away from you, leaning against the wall and aimed directly towards where you and hobie sleep.

you look over, noticing the emptiness of the bed, and then you pick up on the shower running. walking into the bathroom, you're expecting to feel heat waves penetrate your skin from the area, but you don't. in fact, there's no steam on the glass, no layer of fog reaching the ceiling.

you're already prepared to bet that hobie's taking a cold shower, and when you open the door and feel nothing warm, your suspicions are confirmed.

"running hot?" you ask him, smirk unable to be wiped from your face. hobie looks over his shoulder, blinking through the droplets of water that runs down his face, and he scowls.

your smirk only grows tenfold.

"fuck off..." he's saying, but his hands are reaching out for you and suddenly you're pulled under freezing cold water, squeals and squeaks doing nothing to deter hobie's tormenting.

the two of you spend most of the day inside, but hobie decides it's too hot to use the stove or oven so suddenly you're walking down the street towards the bodega on the corner, a pep in your step and a drag in hobie's.

he's using some pamphlet he took from a guy attempting to convert you both to christianity on the street to fan himself, dark eyes turned towards you judgmentally.

"how're you wearing that?" he asks and it takes you a second.

your eyes turn down, beginning to scan your worn-down chucks, to your denim shorts, to the little tee shirt you wear. all the while, you're not paying much attention to your surroundings, leaving hobie to place his free hand on your waist and guide you out of the way of passerbys.

it's not until you reach your thin jacket that you notice what he's talking about, mouth contorting to an 'O' shape.

you shrug, looking back up, glancing at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

"'s not that hot. there's a little breeze."

[s1ater]

cherry pie.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

summary. reader never would have thought about getting high until she seems to have lost all her morals in one night with a boy she had never met before.

warnings. swearing, underage drinking and smoking

ricky rocks. YALL PLEASEEE bare with me. you can probably tell this is an older story because of the format, but just disregard the first half, i know it’s the lower end of my writing. it kinda gets better 😬 (edit: this story is so mid, i’m just trying to clear my drafts)

the room danced with colors, so many colors and shades you seemed to have never seen before. unfamiliar with their cause and purpose, unsure why you couldn’t touch them; it frightened you with the way they moved around, the way they twirled around your head like little ballerinas.

you swallowed, dropping your head back against the grungy brown couch sat in the corner of one of the back rooms of connor’s house, a boy you found yourself calling on day after day for the past two months for fun, and by fun you meant sex.

but tonight, you hadn’t seen the boy for what you could count as hours. there were other things on his mind rather than a high off their ass you. other pretty girls with less clothing on their bodies and longer hair that was paid more attention to than your own.

you couldn’t care less at that point in time as you felt so deep in a haze, nothing could pull your attention. nothing, until the seat next to you sunk in from the pressure of bodyweight and another high body, seeing the same things you were seeing, feeling the same things you were feeling. 

he just had it more under control. 

“you going to stare at the ceiling all day, love?”

you rolled your head to meet the eyes of a crazed blonde with matching brown eyes. delight swirled in his irises while he looked at you with also dazed eyes, almost ceased shut from swelling of the high. you looked amazed right back at him despite sober you would have been disturbed, never seeing a person so out of their mind.

“who are you?” you stared at him, shocked. 

“your new boyfriend,” he wiggled his eyebrows, jumping and readjusting himself up against you, his arm now slinging up and over you shoulders. a new kind of energy swelling through his chest, “i say we go on a date.”

he stared in front of him focused full hearty, as if visualizing something at that moment. you squinted, looking to where he was looking as if trying to see what he was seeing, but not enough weed could put you on his level. 

“i say, we leave right now, get some pie, maybe some coke. whatever you like sweetheart, i’ll give it to ya.” “I think your sweetheart wants some space, jake,” your eyes looked from the boy who sat next to you, jake, to the boy who now stood before the two of you, an unimpressed look on his face. his arm reached out to jake, practically yanking him from your side. “alright pal, let’s go for a walk.”

you watched jake stumble into him, “but louis, she’s pretty.”

louis glanced back over his shoulder as he begun to pull jake away from the couch and toward the door, now really coming to your attention. his eyes raked you up and down before smirking a little bit, nodding to himself, “sure man, she is.” 

he begun to walk away with jake wrapped around his shoulder before you got up fast almost tripping over your feet, not wanting them to go, “wait, i want a pie.” 

he looked back at you and your disoriented self. your shoulders were slung low, making you smaller than you actually were. your hair was all staticky, hanging above your head like a crown, and your eyes; dilated and filled with innocence.

he smirked, looking you up one more time before nodding you over, cuing you to follow after him, his arm still holding jake to his toes.

the boy’s car was blue. louis’ car was blue. it was one of those old, nice, restored cars that must have been worth thousands. the interior had light brown leather seating that made noise every time you shifted and readjusted yourself due to the old springs lying beneath. it made you giggle as you sat next to him in the front seat, jake lying in the back due to him not being just high, but rather cross faded. louis had apparently found him completely plastered out of his mind once he had first arrived at the party, leading him to hand jake a blunt to finalize his out-this-world experience. it wasn’t smart, but it kept louis entertained to say the least.

louis had glanced at you multiple times as he drove through the silent streets. he seemed eager or maybe even a little irritated as he watched you bounce around, lacking the ability to sit still as your eyes darted everywhere, from street lights to stop signs to anything that’d fully occupied your vision.

“have you ever been high before?” he asked, stopped at a stop light with red lights shading upon both your faces.

“nope,” your eyes wandered across the ceiling of his car. you ran your fingers along the soft carpeted interior—strange, but very stimulating and soft—making you feel all fuzzy inside of satisfaction. “louis, i love you car.”

he chuckles lowly, directing his eyes back to the road, “a lot of people do,” his lips were turned upwards into a slight smirk. it made the fuzzy feeling in your stomach turn warm as there was something very satisfying about just the way he looked. “we’re here.”

your eyes flick to the front of you where your visions bursts with neon lights beaming from the large “diner” sign pinned against the small vintage looking building. you're quick to slip out of the car to the euphoric sight.

“y/n!"

you stopped in your tracks at the sound of your name, glancing over your shoulder where your eyes immediately find a group of boys congregating together with one single boy appointed to attention to you. 

louis. 

"hold on. give me a minute, guys," you watch louis from five feet away, brush his friends off despite the yearning looks of amusement on all of their faces, looking between the both of you. he’s far from bothered or just doesn’t notice; brushing them off before meeting you to where you stood.

it was a wednesday after school. the sweet sound of louis’ voice and sight of his captivating face was the last thing you thought you’d come across. it must’ve been a mutual feeling with the way he looked you up and down, all winded looking. 

"you're a hard person to find."

"you've been looking for me?"

"of course," he has a cigarette in his mouth.

"I almost didn't think you were real."

"of course i'm real, sweetheart," he grins harder at you. "that fucked up, were you?"

you snort. if not being able to remember half of what took place that night counted for being fucked up, you took the trophy.

"well, alright. i'll take that as you had a pretty good night."

"one of the best."

“good,” he grins, “that’s a rare occasion for girls like you.”

“girls like me?” you scoff, arching a brow. his sentence could easily be something taken for offence, but the lighthearted tone to his voice only proved he was looking to mess with you. 

“yes,” he laughs with you. “usually drinking is the only thing you’d catch a teenage girl doing for non-sober purposes.” 

you nod, agreeing, because he wasn’t wrong, “i’ve had a fair amount of experience with alcohol and let me just say, i’ll be steering clear of that for a while.” 

“ah,” he tips forward on his feet in amusement. “i could’ve guessed you’re a wild one with your liquor, y/l/n. make some questionable choices.” 

you feel your face heat up in thought, “i won’t say you’re wrong.” 

louis lets out a small huff of laughter, before pausing all movement. he stares at you for a moment with narrow brows, as if trying his best to read you, “you ever wanna smoke with me, just let me know, alright?” he patted your back before suddenly walking past and away from you. your back was to him now but you could hear pat pat pat of his feet in the grass.

you frown, your eyes finding the cracks of the sidewalk as you think of how brief and unusual that was. you feel a large hole in your chest of unfulfillment. 

“louis, wait,” you shifted around rather quickly as a reality hit you, but you didn’t make any moves to chase after him. he turned as well as if waiting for it. “you uh, you didn’t tell connor i was with you guys, did you?”

yikes.

that’s not what he wanted to hear. 

louis pinched the bud of his cigarette, nodding to himself, thinking contently to his answer before exhaling, a thick cloud of white swirling out into the air before your eyes. you feel dazed, still high from the days before, filled with such naïve joy and lost thoughts of things you couldn’t remember now.

he threw his cigarette on the ground, eyes meeting yours again, only they were hard now and filled with no light heartedness like all times before. and his voice wasn’t soft or full of amusement either but dry as he stared you dead in the eyes, “why, he your boyfriend?”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your eyes not meeting his for a while until after you thought about your answer. and it was an easy answer, no, but it was never something you’d ever consider a question. 

“no, no he’s not.”

“you sure about that?”

“not my type,” you smile slightly, examining louis’ pale cheekbones and facial features, the cold of the weather turning his complexion slowly red. your eyes drag to reach his red chapped lips.

him, he was your type. 

“enough of your type for you to fuck him,” he gave you a pointed look as if he had caught you in the act of something, and almost immediately your cheeks burned, like you were caught for something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing. 

you didn't understand why or how he knew. louis was someone you didn't know at all and what you and connor did was something you didn't tell anyone.

"you're surprised?"

"yes."

"why do you care what he knows, let alone fuck him?" he doesn't say anything more on how he knows like you hoped he would. "if he's not your type?"

you bite into your bottom lip, wincing because you didn't know the answer to it, "I don't."

"but you do," he slightly smiles but it's only out of annoyance as his voice catches up to cut you off on your lie. "I think you do, y/n. and you just don't want him to know we kissed."

"your mouth tastes like cherry."

"so does yours."

fuck.

"no, louis..." you wince, immediately regretting stopping him. "that's not what I meant. he doesn't mean anything to me."

he scoffs, "funny."

he doesn't believe you. not even close.

"you know he has label on you."

"a what?" you frown immediately, taking a step forward out of instinct.

“i’m a fool to think you’d ever stop liking him,” he holds his face, running his fingers along the sharp lines of his jawbone as he thinks about his idiotic hope that’d you so fastly fall for him as you did with connor. “foolish to think you’d drop him over one night.”

you’re even more confused now, “it was one night, louis.”

“you act like there isn’t the possibility that i’ve known you even before that night, y/n,” he has a smile that comes on his face but it isn’t something genuine. it’s annoyed. “your jerkoff of a boyfriend isn’t as secretive about you as you think.”

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

he scoffs, “you keep saying that.”

“because it’s true.”

“do you know what he says about you?”

“obviously not, louis,” four steps forward, four steps closer. “you keep speaking of ‘labels’ and whatever, but why don’t you just say it. what does he say about me that is so crazy?”

he didn’t expect the sudden brief and assertiveness you pull with your movement and words. it knocks him into a slight revelation as all he can do is stare at you and breathing, memorizing this side of you. 

“did he say i was a whore?” that was the only possible thing that you could think of at that moment that could be so bad. “he tell you i was a slut?”

it’s silent. you watch him think and the way he unintentionally avoids your hard stare with the thought process.

“ask him yourself.”

**

“has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes.”

you feel your face burn upon the comment. everything in your body felt as if was about to burst upon the simple company of louis. even though it had to of been hours since connor’s house, and the diner, and even dropping jake off at his own home, you still felt out of your mind in the best way possible. all of your sense were still high, but your vision was fuzzy and you felt lag in your movement.

how were you still high?

“you have,” you felt yourself giggle, to which he smiles with a tip of his head, watching you.

“cute,” his fingers rubbed against his mouth in thought before reaching to you. you felt yourself inhale sharply at his sudden movement and hold your breath once they reached their destination; raking through your hair. “how does he do that to you?”

“what?”

“nothing,” he shook his head, still twisting his fingers through soft strands of your hair. you feel yourself relax, watching him and the way he seemed so focused on just you. “you’re just very pretty, y/n.”

you feel your eyes slightly widen, but his face doesn’t shift at all. he’s calm, while you feel your entire body burst once more into heat. you’re itching to move, you can’t just sit still in that burning warmth beneath his stare. you feel yourself move, leaning forward on your knees so your lips meet louis’.

louis smiles against the pressure of your lips against his--he almost forgets to kiss you back because of it. 

almost. 

his hands rack up and down the front of your body, lightly pressing into the hold he had around your rib cage, as if willing to crush you beneath his grasp as long as that meant you wouldn’t leave. this contact isn’t enough even for you. you want to feel him all over and the heavy hands holding your body isn’t enough. 

you’re on his lap now, one of your hands holding the top of his shoulder while the other claps his cheek. louis feels as if his own body is about to burst beneath you... this is all he has wanted, for a while, and now that he’s got it, he feels it’ll destroy him. you’re ignorant to his feelings, but you feel just as feverish with your heart thump-thumping within your chest, as if speaking to his. 

“your mouth tastes like cherry,” your chest is heaving up and down as you pull away, your wide stare boring into his own eyes with something of delirium. 

he’s smiling wide, tipping his head back against his seat to see your face better, “so does yours.” 

now you smile, “i like you louis.”

he almost groans, rolling his head side to side at the sound of those precious words, “you’re killing me,” he pulls the sentence straight out of his mouth like it was sarcastic, but he meant it, “say it again,” he wanted it. 

“i like you,” you repeat, this time his hand is on your cheek. “please kiss me.” 

oh, jeez. 

he stares, breathless, “okay.” 

***

it was a week after your fallout with louis and you couldn’t think about anything other than that. you felt a sudden emptiness and need for something that you barely even had; louis. 

every little micro interaction you had with him ran through your mind like a record, over and over till you felt you were going to throw yourself off a cliff. and it wasn’t just the connor comment--which was something you really, really couldn’t stop thinking about--but the seemingly quick liking he had taken to you. 

it had caught you off guard, but the more you thought about it, the more curious you became as to the whole thing; which was what led you here; connor’s house, on a friday night where he was once again throwing. 

“what have you been saying about me?” you stood in front of him, connor, your vision narrowed as you stared at him, examining him as if his whole existence was strange. 

“what?” his confusion was genuine as this question was rather abrupt and you made no attempt to make introductions. 

“you know louis partridge?” 

connor looks between you and the people he currently stood with, confusion still reeking his features, “yes..?”

“what have you been telling him about me?”

“you want to talk about this somewhere else?” 

“i want a straight answer,” you feel his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from his crowd without an answer from you. 

“which i can give you if you weren’t so vague... why are you talking to partridge?” 

“you got a problem?”

the two of you are stopped in front of a boy; jake. 

“no, man, i think we’re good,” connor pays him no mind, side stepping him fast with you still in grip, continuing to interrogate you. you ignore connor, watching jake the whole way you’re being pulled while he watches you. you feel as if the boy isn’t real, like he was someone you had made up when you were high, but there he was, staring just as shocked, but equally skeptical as you were pulled further and further from him. 

“are you listening to me, y/n?”

“what?” 

“i asked you what you were on about?” you’re now in an empty corner, secluded away from the rest of the party. “haven’t seen you in days and you’re on a tangent about a boy you barely know, what’s going on?”

you finally focus on him, barely processing the words he was putting in your ears, but you didn’t have to in order to hear the fake sympathy and concern. 

“how do you know louis?”

he shurgs, “see him every time i throw. gotta get to know my usuals.” 

“yeah, and how well have you gotten to know him?”

he shakes his head, feeling attacked, “why?”

“because i think it’s my right to know what you’ve been saying about me to him and whoever else,” the seal of your calmness breaks as you extend an arm out, ready to scold him for anything he was about to say. 

his expression drops in return, knowing any attempt to make you calm and make the situation subtle was out of his hands. connor knew you well enough to know you were too far into your frustration to calm you down. 

“what’re you talking about?”

but that didn’t mean he had to comply. 

“your new choice in men is obviously not working out for you. even they know i’m the best you’ll ever have.” 

“what?” your head drops forward, taken aback at the sudden escalation connor had taken to his approach in words. “what the fuck are you on about?” 

he smirks, pushing the red solo cup he had up to his lips, glancing around before looking back down to you, “why else do you think he lied to you about whatever it is you’re asking?”

“i can’t believe this,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “pull yourself out of that goddamn lie before you make yourself look even more like a fool. what have you been saying about me?”

“i find it best you don’t lie about this one, mate. you have an audience of witnesses,” there’s a hand on your back and a voice intervening. 

the two of you focus to louis who suddenly stands behind you, daring connor to push it. the boy looks confounded looking between you, louis, and the crowd of boys behind him. he doesn’t know what to do within the corner he had backed himself into. 

“whatever, this is my own fucking party. i don’t need to do shit,” he shoves past all of you. you all watch him storm away, not looking back, leaving you all to yourselves in the dust. 

“let’s talk,” louis says immediately the moment you look up to him, nodding off in a random direction. 

you slowly nod, following him. 

“i didn’t think you’d actually ask him.” 

a laugh gets caught in the back of your throat, shaking your head at the ignorance as he opens the passenger door to his car for you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he slides into his own side of the car. “but then again, what would i know about you?”

“a lot, apparently. more than i would guess,” you lean your head against the palm of your hand, staring at him carefully. “you gonna tell me what he said now?”

louis looks hesitant, not even looking at you anymore as he thinks on how to answer. he doesn’t want to answer, it’s that simple, but he owes it to you to give you something sense he was the one who told you in the first place. 

“when i met connor, he talked about you a lot. a lot for someone i barely saw. it was like every party he had something new to say or nothing new at all. as long as it was you he was talking about,” he smiles to himself, thinking of all the bragging and praising he had put into you, all for connor to just... “you were like a prize to him, y/n--until you weren’t. he called you easy, but you were his. he said he could walk you like a dog because he was the only guy you thought of.” 

you feel rage and annoyance fume in the base of your chest as he speaks. he can see it form in your eyes, take over any look of calmness or subtlety from before. you make a move to push yourself back and out the door but louis is quick to grab your arm, pulling you right back to him, only closer. 

“hold on there, cowgirl,” your almost in his lap. “you’re better than that.”

“am i?” you’re squirming, almost pulling from the grasp his grasp if it weren’t for how warm he made you feel.

“yeah,” he’s smiling at you. “why waste any more of your time with him anyways when you could just be here with me?”

you couldn’t help but fall victim to the pulling sensation on your lips to smile at him. you feel that fuzzy feeling creep up into your stomach at his stare like the first time you were both alone in his car and suddenly all your anger at connor melts away.

“only if you offer me cherry pie.”

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