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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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MUCH TOO MUCH

RATING: R/smut (some sex, some alcohol/drugs, cursing, the usual)

WORD COUNT: 9.7k

CATEGORIES: college!harry, roommate!harry

MASTERLIST | ASK ME QUESTIONS

a/n: this is my entry for my beloved @stellarboystyles‘s 3 year anniversary challenge!!!!! it was so fun to write these two and i hope you like it! a bit on the shorter side, but delicious all the same. come talk to me about them when you’re done, i want to hear what you think! (also this was named for the song by lennon stella in case u were curious lol)

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

Harry and Y/N live together and one night they hook up and things get complicated

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry living with you wasn’t planned. At least, not in the way where you guys were best friends and decided to live together way. More in the way of neither of you had anyone else to live with and had the same price range kind of way. You happened to be at a mutual friend’s party mid-way through your sophomore spring and you’d mentioned in passing that you were looking for a roommate, and Harry’s head had popped up.

Somewhere along the way, though, you’d decided you quite liked living with him.

Even if he was obnoxious sometimes, was absolutely shit at doing chores, and couldn’t properly load the dishwasher.

He had a charm to him, you had to admit. He was good at getting on your good side—texting you when you were on the library and he was just leaving to head over, asking if you wanted anything to snack on. One time, he’d brought you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos without being asked because he knew you hadn’t eaten in hours and needed your favorite foods.

His charms were what made you overlook the nights that he had people over and you had to listen to the sound of his bed frame hitting the wall, or had to creep into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning before he and whoever he’d brought back woke up, pretending to not even live in your apartment for fear of being embarrassed. Although, you never quite knew what you should be embarrassed about—but you were. Maybe it was because you frequently ended up listening to his sounds and trying not to think about how good he sounded or wondering what it was like to be in bed with him.

But that wasn’t something you would tell anyone, not even your friends who pestered you about what it was like living with Harry. Harry, the party-goer who always had three types of hard liquor in your kitchen but was also your go-to person to edit your papers and help you study for exams. Harry, who was your partner in crime on a night out and on a night in, someone who you could be yourself with no matter the context. It was something you’d never expected from him, but now that you had it, you couldn’t image losing it.

Which was why the current situation you were in was not the best.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t literally dreamed of this happening. In fact, you wanted this with every fiber of your being. You just didn’t have your brain stopping you now.

His tongue danced up the column of your neck, dipping into the crevice under your ear and his lips formed a circle on your skin and pulled gently, your fingers tugging on the strands of his hair. Your heart was beating wildly and so was his—you could feel it against your body—or maybe that was the thrum of the bass? You weren’t sure. When he tugged on your earlobe you wrapped your hands in the bottom of his graphic t-shirt, some random streetwear company that he was obsessed with lately and you thought was weird, but didn’t comment on.

One of your legs slid up his, ankle hooking around his knee and pulling his pelvis into yours, and the surprised grunt that left Harry’s mouth made you smile. “Y/N,” he groaned, fingers pressing harder into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“I’d ask you the same,” you answered, a devilish smile on your lips that Harry kissed away, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw down just enough so that he could earn access. It was brutal, kissing him. And not because it was bad, but because it was so good and you’d robbed yourself of this for a year and a half.

Your lips intertwined and fought for dominance, Harry’s sliding between yours and sucking and pulling just enough for you to move closer for more. Your wrists ended up behind his neck, holding him close to you, and you used the pressure to gain an advantage, grinding in his hips and kissing him with a passion burning in your heart.

Harry, meanwhile, was losing his fucking mind. He’d been thinking of this forever, and somehow tonight’s combination of alcohol and weed had led you two here: to a position that neither of your quite knew how it started, but you weren’t stopping it. In fact, Harry caged you in, his hands moving from your body to wall behind you, palms pressed to the worn white paint. He didn’t want to lose you, to lose this moment, to pretend like it never happened. Instead, he wanted to keep you tight against him, to memorize how it felt when the heel of your boots dragged along the inside seam of his denim jeans, the warmth spreading across his neck when you gently scratch at his skin as he suckled on your bottom lip and kissed a line across your jaw. He wanted to remember the sound of your soft breaths in his ears, how they increased in tempo as he sucked a hickey onto your neck, doubling his effort when you didn’t move to stop him. He’d seen you with them before and now that you were his—at least for the night—he wanted to give you one to remember him by.

Not that you could forget him. Not with Some Kind of Drug pounding in the speakers, his hips grinding into yours in the low lighting, his teeth nipping at your skin as you exhaled his name and a curse. He was unforgettable, that Harry Styles. Especially when he had your gripping his skin through his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed you higher and higher into the clouds, your mind a haze of just nothing but him.

Harry pulled away a hair, mainly because he was getting tired of just having you against a wall with people everywhere—he either wanted to move this into a private space or call this off. Although he didn’t really want the latter, not really. That was only if you didn’t want him. But from the way you stared at him as he created a half foot of distance between you, your chest heaving, lace edge of your bra peeking out from underneath your cropped tank top, he didn’t think that’s what you wanted.

“Do you want to stay or go?” He asked, one of his hands lingering at the wall next to you and the other moving to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Go,” you answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “If—if you want to.”

He didn’t even take a breath before he answered, “Yeah, I want to.”

Which was how you two ended up making out in the Uber back to your apartment, you straddling his lap and twisting over him as he kissed you, his hands cupping your ass. Neither of you were sober enough to think about the fact that you were in someone else’s car, but then again, neither of you would probably care. Especially when you sucked on the edge of Harry’s jaw and he tugged your hips down on his and groaned low and rough in your ear, the sound making you smile against his skin.

The radio was playing the background, but in the haze you didn’t hear anything, all you could take in was Harry: his touch, his smell, the soft sounds he made as you moved on him, the feeling of his jeans against your tights-clad skin. It was chilly out and you had a thin pair of stockings on, sheer enough for your skin to show through, but enough to give you a bit of protection from the nip of the cold. His hands had already rucked up the edge of your favorite leather skirt, and your bra was poking out of the top of your cropped tank top that was tight over the swell of your breasts.

You were a sight in Harry’s eyes, something he couldn’t get enough of. Even though he lived with you, saw you in every outfit, especially the ones involving mismatched sweats and tired eyes, he never thought you were anything other than beautiful. Sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but who wasn’t? But now, with you like this, on top of him, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen you quite this gorgeous. This delicious, even though he hated describing people that way. But how else could he describe you when you stared down at him, lips red from his kisses and eyes blazing for him, chest heaving and cleavage demanding his attention. His hands couldn’t stop curving over your legs, smoothing up and down your thighs. It was sin, he decided, how he felt right now, because he couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in his brain.

The things he wanted to do to you.

The things he wanted you to do to him.

The things he wanted to see.

The things he wanted you to see.

The things he wanted to hear.

The things he wanted you to hear.

The things he wanted to feel.

The things he wanted you to feel.

It was like a freight train running through his head, all of the images and thoughts and concepts barreling into his thoughts. It made the swirl of your hips over his and the way you curled your fingers into the thin fabric covering his shoulders particularly hard to resist.

Realistically, the drive to your shared off-campus apartment wasn’t that long, but in your heads, it seemed like ages. Ages of waiting for a bed and privacy, ages of waiting to shed layers and know what endless bare skin looked like. So when your driver arrived at your building, you pushed open the door, narrowly missing banging your head on the roof of the car.

Harry chuckled as he tumbled out after you, thanking the driver and wrapping his arm around your waist. You wasted no time before you curled your arm around him and danced your fingers up his opposite side, your lips sucking delicately on the fabric of his t-shirt closest to you. It made Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his breath jump.

Was this what you were always like? This was the thing about this situation—you two knew one another, but not like this. You’d never made out in the back of an Uber or made out on your doorstep while one of you fumbled for the keys like you were now, or felt your hands dig into exposed skin and singe of hot breath on your neck. This was new territory, and perhaps if you both weren’t quite so drunk you would’ve stopped to talk about it.

But instead, Harry was leading you to his bedroom with your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair, his lips crawling up your throat, walking blindly because he knew the way.

The thing about hooking up with someone you’d been close friends with for over a year was that there wasn’t a layer of awkwardness because you didn’t know the person. Instead, it was a hint of unassuredness whenever clothes started coming off, a hint of awe, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d never felt quite this comfortable with someone, in fact. You’d never trusted someone you hooked up with quite as much as you trusted Harry. And he felt the same way. When you pushed his shirt up his torso and scratched your nails softly down his skin he had never felt so alive, so full of desire.

It was why he fell back on his bed and let you stand between his knees in a desperate attempt to get your clothes off so he could feel your bare skin. He’d been waiting all night to see you—to finally see you—and now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go.

“They’re tights,” you mumbled against his lips when he tried to pull on the material on your legs, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “Not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” You stepped away, deciding you could do this part by yourself with more ease, and unzipped your leather skirt, the zip down the front meaning it was easy access, and let the material fall to the ground. Harry’s eyes swept up your legs and to the place where the band of your tights dug into your waist, gaze flaming black with desire. Then, you hooked your fingers in the tight band and tugged it down, peeling the thin material off of your skin, hopping on one foot to get them off your feet.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, and instead reached out to hold you steady, a smile winding onto your face from the action. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, standing up straight in just your purple underwear and your shirt and bra. His hands held fast to your hips, palms curving around your skin and gaze dancing up your body. And when you pulled your tight shirt up and over your heads, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, his heart about stopped.

You had on a set that didn’t match, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at your breasts—it was cliche, that he loved boobs, but how could he not? Especially when you were breathing this fast and looking at him like that and you were wearing a red bra that barely held you in. How as he supposed to not lose his goddamned mind?

“What?” You asked, stepping back in between his legs, hands falling to his shoulders, sliding up the slope to cup his neck.

“You—you just,” he choked out, the words rough and dry in his mouth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just moved. You kissed him, lips caught between his, and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up until he shifted back to tug it off his body and let it fall to the ground. You stopped thinking, stopped using any sense in your body, and instead just felt. Felt how he made your skin sing and your body thrum with pleasure, how he made the worries at the back of your head fall away with each pass of his hands, focused on the way he kissed across your clavicle and sighed when you harshly gripped his hair. You let yourself drown in those feelings because you knew if you used your head that somehow you would succumb to your fears and lose this moment, and that was the utter last thing you wanted.

Instead, you wanted to drown in him.

And he felt the same way. He fell back onto the duvet and took you with him, flipping you onto your back so that your hair was pressed against the pillowcase, a cheap one from Target he’d brought at the beginning of the year that you’d convinced him was a good color. You looked up at him with awe and temptation in your irises, and Harry took only a minute to rip off his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers on only because he didn’t want to seem like an asshole. Then, he was back hovering over you, his curls falling into his face, your fingers reaching up to push them back.

A smile drifted across your face and he dropped to his elbows, peppering kisses down your neck and falling back to his knees as he made his way down your body. When he heard a chuckle rip from your throat, he glanced up at you. “Distracted?”

“No,” you said, poking his temple. “Thinking about how when we first met I teased you about how you must fuck girls with your snapback on because you wore it so much.”

Harry hummed a laugh into your chest, dimples peeking out and you thought it was downright adorable. “I was a bit of a whore when we met, huh?”

“Maybe a bit,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your words that Harry knew well. “Don’t worry, you’re only just a bit less of one now. Didn’t lose that title, I don’t think.”

“That’s a bit rude,” he said, sucking harshly at your nipple through your bra. “Bullying me while I’m tryin’ to go down on you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Couldn’t tell since you hadn’t quite made it there yet.”

You were taunting him like you always did, the alcohol in your veins making it more sexual in nature, and Harry loved it. It made it feel like the two of you, not like something that would be completely forgotten in the morning. “Am I too slow for you?” He asked, scratching gently at your sides and making you squirm as he fell farther down the length of your body. “I was trying to take my time but if you’re impatient, then—“

“Harry, please, fuck, just—“ A gasp fell from parted lips when he finally licked at the hood of your clit, your hands gripping his hair within another breath. Your words were nothing but pants, dry and heaving sounds that filled Harry’s head. He’d heard you through the walls before—it was a college-priced apartment, after all. Thick walls weren’t exactly something that fit in your price range. But hearing you this close, this sharp, the sound this crisp in his ears, it was making his hips rut into the duvet. It was his wet dream actualized, as horrible as that sounded.

Yes, he had wet dreams about you.

Yes, he knew that was probably horrible.

And no, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Your mind, on the other hand, was blank. Like, literally blank. That was the thing about sex when you were drunk, all the thinking and nerves and walls dropped away and you just let your body feel. There wasn’t that niggling thought at the back of your head that questioned if you looked good like this, you just let go and let your back arch and hips circle and arms quiver. Your hands drifted from the duvet to his hair and then the pillow behind your head, trying to figure out what would hold your grip best as Harry absolutely devoured you.

So far, you hadn’t settled on your favorite thing to hold on to, but his hair was in the running for first place. The sight of his eyes peeking up at yours, an image you only got every once in a while because you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, was enough to send you spiraling. But you were trying to hold yourself together because you didn’t want this to end. You’d just gotten him like this and you didn’t want the night to be over because who knew what the morning held?

Thankfully, though, your drunk mind didn’t let those disruptive thoughts linger. Instead, they focused on the orgasm rising as he curled his tongue over your panties and then under them, the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin making you moan deeply, his ring-clad fingers pressing into your hips. Harry loved watching you almost as much as he loved tasting you, doing this to you. There was a power in oral sex, Harry couldn’t deny that, and he loved it not because of the power it gave him, but the gratification of making someone else feel good. He loved watching women finish, and you were no different. In fact, you were blowing every woman before you out of the water.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. He couldn’t tell. But either way, when he sucked on your clit and you squeaked out his name, he didn’t know how he could do this with another person for at least a month or two. Getting you out of his head would be his full-time job for a while, especially while living with you.

Your fingers threaded through his brown curls, eyes fluttering open, mind swirling and trying to focus somehow on the sight below you and the feeling swirling through your body, a tightness spreading up your legs, your toes curling and feet pressing down towards the duvet, scrabbling for something to hold onto. They ended up hooking around Harry’s shoulders, his hands holding your thighs close, as if not worried in the slightest about them getting too tight. Instead, he held you close and your breath came out in short pants, airways drying from not being able to even close your mouth and breathe.

His tongue was just so wet. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Oral while you were like this always felt this way—just overwhelming in the most basic sense. It was wet and warm and overwhelming and you never wanted it to end. You didn’t even know how long he was down there, his head tucked between your thighs, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your slit, poking his tongue into your hole for a second—just long enough to make you groan, deep and unabashed.

“I’m close,” you murmured, words broken and Harry could only understand them because he had heard you talk in the morning after you’d just gotten up and your mind wasn’t quite working yet. He parsed your words together with ease, and the result made him grin, and suck harshly on your clit, before dropping his chin and licking into you with fervor. “Fuck, Harry.”

“That’s it,” he mumbled, words garbled because he didn’t even raise his head to speak, he kept his lips right on your skin which meant the vibrations of his words flowed through your veins.

His fingertips pressed harshly on the outside of your thighs, holding you close, and somehow the combination of the pressure and the heat of his tongue had you tumbling over the edge, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to catch a breath, your orgasm overtaking you. Harry watched as your fingers clenched the duvet, legs tightening and then loosening around his shoulders, before dropping to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips.

He could watch you for days.

“Come here,” you said, glancing down at him with a fucked out look on your face, eyes glassy and lips red from chewing on them, your hair a mess from thrashing your head back and forth. He’d never seen you quite like this and he liked the sight.

Liked it a lot, in fact. He moved up your body with ease, the soft skin of his legs rubbing against yours. Once he was at your eye level, you sealed the distance with a kiss that made Harry’s mind fumble for stable ground, desperate for you. When you ran your toes up his calf, though, the soft touch making him moan, he knew he was fucked. “You—need you,” he said, breathless against your lips.

You pushed his underwear down without question, sliding your fingers under the band so you could feel his warm skin under your palms. When he bucked up into you as your nails brushed against his butt cheeks, you smiled against his lips, loving how obvious he was. He didn’t hide anything, pretend like he wasn’t affected. You liked that in a guy. “Condom?” You said, tweaking his skin between your thumb and forefinger.

Harry lifted his head, blinking once. “Yeah—yeah, in the drawer. One sec.” He shifted, rolling off of you so he could do two things. The first was find a condom in the drawer, the second was push down his briefs. Well, technically three things, because after that he rolled the condom on with focus, lip caught between his teeth as you watched, head turned to take in the sight of his side profile.

He was gorgeous. You’d known that for a long while, but seeing him like this, under the glow of the bedside table light and the sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, his chest rising rapidly. You were even attracted to his smattering of chest hair, and especially liked the way his skin purged at his sides. In fact, you reached out and grabbed it gently, drawing his attention back to you.

With one look back at you, he rolled back over you, your legs parting with ease. You wound your fingers through his hair and appreciated that he didn’t ask you questions, that he didn’t try to talk about it because you didn’t want to. You wanted this, it was obvious in how you gazed at him with desire and kneaded at his skin, tugging his pelvis closer and closer. The talk, you thought, would’ve ruined it, made you question it. And you didn’t want to question, you just wanted him.

So when he pushed one of your knees up to your waist and brushed his condom-covered tip over your slit, the skin nudging the hood of your clit, your hips moved without thought. Circled up for him, trying to get the angle for him to slip inside properly. Because you were craving it, feeling him. Needed him in a way you never had before and you didn’t want to linger on it, just wanted it to happen finally.

Harry’s eyes caught on yours, and as if scared of what he found, he looked back down at where your bodies met, before pushing inside. A moan ripped from your throat, fingernails digging into his biceps which you were gripping as he slid in slowly.

“Shit,” you cursed as you felt yourself adjusting to him, “Shit, fuck, shit, Harry.”

“Sorry,” he said, a trace of what you could’ve sworn was a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing at his arms. “Go.”

And he did.

Holy fuck did he go.

Harry held nothing back when he fucked you. He found a rhythm almost immediately, one that had your torso moving up the duvet and your head raising from the pillow and slamming back down again, eyes fluttering shut and then open again when he hit a deep spot. It was hard to describe how good it felt to have him inside of you, but god, it felt divine. Something you’d been missing. And not that it was him you’d been missing, but sex in general, you’d missed it. Missed this feeling of just losing yourself in it, in the movement of bodies and the sounds and the sweat and that feeling of closeness when Harry’s head dropped down to your neck and he thrusted deep inside of you, an echo of your name on his lips.

Your ankles hooked above his bum, and the impact of his hips on your inner thighs you knew would leave a bruise in the morning and you relished the prospect of it. Of remembering this feeling, of reliving it every time you squatted down. Although the thought of being empty of him was something you were not looking forward to, you were excited about the aftermath on your body.

And Harry was losing his fucking mind as he moved inside of you. Not only because you were squeezing him tight and thought he was going to come within seconds, but because of the way you were wrapped around his body, your hands holding onto his biceps so tightly he was sure there’d be marks tomorrow. It was how your legs sat above his hips, the backs of your heels digging into his ass to make sure he drove into you with a depth and a speed that you needed. Your head tipped back and your mouth was open slightly, tufts of air and moans of pleasure floating from them and through the air, sending sparks down his spine.

When he dropped his head to your neck it was because he missed smelling you, being that close to you. So he lost himself on the column of your neck, leaving mark after mark as he drove into you, as you swallowed him whole—body and mind. This sex was consuming in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t think it was the alcohol and the marijuana. He didn’t know why.

Well, he did, but he pretended not to.

Especially when you pulled on his hair and murmured, “Faster, please, H—fuck, please,” in his ear.

Yes, he decided as he sped up and reached a depth that made both of you choke on air, it was a far better idea to pretend that what he was feeling right now was completely normal.

Usually you liked to be on top, to set the pace and keep control when you hooked up with guys, but right now, Harry was doing so good on his own that the last thing you wanted was to stop him. So you let him set the pace and instead kept yourself busy by touching every inch of his body available. You fingers ran down the length of his arms, across the black tattoos swirling across his skin, and towards his chest, making a line down to his belly. When you scratched softly over his skin he grunted—and not a weird sound, but one that you could tell meant he liked it.

So you pressed a little harder, experimenting a bit.

To your smug joy, Harry’s fingers curled in the duvet next to your stomach, arms tensing, and his eye snapped to yours. He didn’t even have to say anything—you knew. He wanted you to keep going.

And you did. You brushed your hand to the top of his torso and dragged a torturing path downwards, nails biting into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave an angry red trail. Harry was panting above you, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted into you.

He was close. Your nails mixed with how you squeezed him tight inside of you and the sounds you were making and the slam of the bed against the wall and your perfume lingering in the air—it all mixed together into a dangerous concoction that had him struggling on the edge. “Are you close?” He asked, words rougher than they had been when he last spoke.

When your chin tipped down ever so slightly, Harry smiled devilishly, the prospect of bringing you over the edge again spurring him on, a second surge of energy coursing through his veins. Any exhaustion he had been feeling before from lingering in the same position, any ache in his knees or tightness in his arms was gone, in favor of pressing your knees farther up towards your chest, earning a new angle that had your hands scrambling up his arms and nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed at the touch and you panted the word Yes over and over again, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm built inside of you like a tidal wave, threatening to break as he twisted his hips a particular way. You were going to come, you realized only seconds before it happened, the depth Harry was reaching and the brutal pace against your hips creating a deadly combination.

As you did, a shudder of his name falling through the room, you squeezed Harry like a death grip and he choked out a moan before coming mere seconds after, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against your shins as he caught his breath. Your legs were still propped up against your chest, his hands caging in your body as he leaned his weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, the soft bedroom light seeming brighter after what had just happened. “Shit,” you answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

What did you say to your roommate after you fucked them, anyway? The alcohol still lingered, both of you plenty tipsy still. It was enough for your legs to drop open and happily let Harry kiss you senseless as he withdrew from inside of you, your hand cupping his jaw. His lips were fucking sin and you hoped you would be able to forget them. Because as he pulled away and mumbled about throwing away the condom, leaving you breathless on his duvet, you didn’t know if you’d be able to.

Harry woke up to an empty bed and a throbbing headache. He was still naked, but that wasn’t unusual considering he favored sleeping naked, and his duvet cover was around his waist. The side of the bed you had been asleep in when he’d shut his eyes was bare, the duvet cover askew from seemed to be you leaving.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, cursing at the low battery from not charging it last night. Then, he sat up in bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. His eyes were dry, probably from the weed, and his throat was dry, probably from the alcohol and the sex.

The sex.

His mind flipped through it in a series of images, like a slideshow on double time, the sight of you naked below him filling his brain. The thing about drunk sex was that you could remember the overall experience, the general highlights, certain specific moments, but it wasn’t like you could pick through it and remember each detail. But Harry didn’t even need the details to know it was fucking incredible.

Fucking you was literally a dream come true.

What wasn’t was the other half of the bed being empty, especially considering it was only eight AM.

He listened to the apartment, trying to decipher if he could hear you moving around. Usually he could hear your footfalls, considering how small and cheap the place was. But it was silent, meaning either you were still asleep or you weren’t home. Most likely it was the former, since it was still early and you usually slept late after a night out.

Although he didn’t know how you were the night after sex. And when had you gotten up from his bed?

More importantly, why had you gotten up from his bed?

Logically, he knew it was probably to avoid a weird interaction, but it was more weird for him to wake up alone and not know why. To not know how you wanted to handle this. Because his sober mind was increasingly realizing that although last night’s events were sensational, they were on the whole an utterly horrible idea.

The two of you lived together, for Pete’s sake. You were practically best friends. You still had half a year worth of a lease.

He groaned, his chin dropping to his chest as he took a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself as he kicked back the covers and slid his legs out of the bed. He could handle this.

So he put his phone on its charger, slipped on a pair of joggers, and went to find you.

What Harry didn’t know was that in the next room, you were wide awake. You had tried to fall back asleep after you’d crept out of his bed at six AM, and you had for a while. But then you woke up and the reality of last night came crashing back through your brain and you groaned, reminding yourself how fucking stupid you were.

Sure, Harry was hot.

That didn’t mean you had to fuck him, you idiot, you told yourself. He was your roommate, your friend. Not someone to sleep with. And yet, here you were, your thighs sore from his hips crashing against them and your body smelling like sex and his cologne.

You heard his door open—it was a small apartment after all—and your heart stopped for a second. You waited for the sound of his footsteps, praying he would just walk to the kitchen and not stop at your room. Listening closely, you heard him pause outside your room and then continue into the kitchen, where you heard the refrigerator open and close and then the kettle humming as he started a cup of tea. A part of you sighed, but the other part of you remembered that you had to see him eventually.

Why were you hiding, anyway?

It wasn’t like you could avoid him, and what did you have to avoid him about? Sure, you’d seen his naked body, sure he’d seen yours, sure you’d had mind blowing sex. That didn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Shit,” you groaned softly into your pillow and decided you would stay in your room until the last possible second. You never said you weren’t a coward.

Unfortunately, an hour later the desire to pee was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer. So you huffed out a sigh, threw on a pair of pajamas and pushed open your door, taking a tentative step into the hallway, trying to gauge where in the house Harry was. You’d lost track of him during a scroll through Instagram and couldn’t quite place him anymore and it was making you nervous.

Then, you heard the floorboards creak.

Your head whirled to the side, your eyes meeting his. He was standing not two feet away, looking at you with messy hair and wide eyes, a cup of tea clutched in one hand. “Hi,” you managed to say. “Bathroom.”

All he did was nod. He nodded as if this entire situation was somehow normal and completely not fucking with both of your brains.

So you strolled down the hall to the bathroom and shut yourself inside. If he wanted to pretend like this was normal, you could do that, you decided. You’d give him normal.

For the next two weeks, that was exactly what you did. You were the picture of normalcy—you pretended like nothing had happened, just made jokes in the kitchen and joined him for study hours and brought home takeaway for the two of you on Thursday night as usual. However, you couldn’t ignore how things had changed between the two of you. There was this…air between you. Charged with sexual tension that you couldn’t ignore, mixed with a hint of awkwardness and uncertainty that had you both on edge. Gone were the playful squeezes to your sides and you swatting him upside the head when he was annoying. Gone was any unexpected touch, in fact. It was like the Cold War in your apartment, a détente on both sides.

It was excruciating. So much so that you’d found yourself wondering if you needed to move out, which was a stupid idea considering it was mid-way through the year and you adored your apartment. It would also probably be more awkward to break the lease agreement than keep it, you decided.

So instead, you stayed, and you pushed through the uncomfortable moments and spent more time in your room than ever before, the living room a space you avoided unless you had to be there. Harry did the same, a look of almost panic on his face whenever you walked into the kitchen in the morning for breakfast. Was the idea of being in close quarters with you really that horrible sounding?

Apparently, it was.

Two weeks after the night of your greatest mistake, the two of you ended up meeting up with your friends. In fact, the exact same set of friends who you’d been with at the house party two weeks prior. You’d ended up walking over to Mariah’s apartment together, a case of Whiteclaws tucked under Harry’s arm. You were rambling about your art history course and he was nodding along, offering the occasional thought. It felt decently normal, and you were hoping it would last through the night.

At first, it did. But then, more and more people started showing up—some people in the debate club with Mariah, a few from the club soccer team with James, the entirety of Lilah’s a cappella group, and then some people you and Harry had each invited. The result was a packed apartment, the music blaring from a portable speaker, and alcohol bottles and plastic cups littering every surface. There was the faint smell of marijuana from when some people went to smoke in Mariah’s room, and it felt comfortable.

You were talking in a group of yourself, two of your friends from a summer internship you’d had, Harry, and Wei, a guy Harry knew from freshman year who had stayed close with. It took everything in your body not to let your gaze linger on Harry, the cut of his dark green t-shirt close to his body and his black skinny jeans gripping his thighs. His hair was a mess, as it always was when he’d had a couple drinks because he ran his hands through it nonstop. His green eyes were sparkling as he listened to a story Wei was telling, his full body laugh sounding in your ears. It was torture being this close to him and there being a wall between the two of you.

“Hey,” your friend Deliah said, her soft voice pulling your attention back to her. “You and Harry okay?”

She hadn’t been there two weeks ago and you hadn’t told her about what had happened. “Yeah, we’re fine,” you told her with a slight nod.

She studied you for a beat longer, but then seemed to accept the response. “I’m going to go get another, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” you answered, raising your still half-full glass.

Ronnie, who stood next to you, said she’d go along and then Wei pulled away and followed them, saying he needed another beer and wanted to find one of his friends and say hello, and suddenly, it was just you and Harry. You and Harry and both of you were fairly drunk and you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. The memory of how they felt against yours pushing its way into your brain and suddenly overtaking your every thought.

What was worse was how he was looking at you. He was watching you, something you knew because you knew him, knew what every one of his glances meant. This one was backed by thoughts, it was the result of him thinking about you and watching your face for something. What, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t take the way his eyes were trained on your expression, the feeling of his gaze on your skin. The distance between you felt like it was shrinking and you felt like you could smell his cologne even though in reality you couldn’t, and you wondered if your heart was pounding in your chest because of the alcohol in your bloodstream or him.

You couldn’t stand there next to him, you decided. You simply couldn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “Back in a second.”

He may have said something, but you were gone before you could hear it, threading through the crowd towards the patio door. It was a tiny patio, just enough space for a set of chairs and a narrow table, but it was enough. It was empty and the music was quieter as you shut the sliding door.

You could breathe out here, and you did, resting your cup on the railing and looking out at the street. Mariah’s apartment was nestled closer to campus, a bit more of an expensive place thanks to her parents and a high-paying summer internship. Distantly you heard the chatter of people walking on the street towards frat row, the honk of what were probably Ubers picking people up and dropping them off at parties.

Slowly, you inhaled, trying to calm the fast beat of your heart. Your thoughts drifted back to Harry, though, and how you had just looked at one another, had studied each other, both knowing that you couldn’t continue you like this. Something had to give and you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t know what to do. Mariah had tried to talk to you about it, but you’d pretended like it was fine because you didn’t want her meddling. You knew she would try to talk to Harry and then it would become some big thing for all of your friends to know about, and you didn’t want that. You just wanted it to be solved and done and over with. You didn’t want all of these feelings in your chest or these thoughts in your head, you didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about how good he’d felt, about how you wished it could happen again, about how you’d had fucking dreams about him, about how every time you heard his voice it sent shivers through your body because it reminded you of the way he’d said your name, rough and deep and rumbling in his chest.

And then you heard it: your name, in that rough and deep voice. “Y/N.”

“I want to be alone for a bit,” you said, not even turning to face him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously ignoring your words and instead shutting the sliding door behind him.

It was quiet now, and because the balcony was narrow he ended up standing right next to you, his elbow mere inches from yours as he leaned on the railing. “Nothing,” you said with a sigh, the lie bitter on your tongue. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, just let your words float in the slight breeze. But then, you heard the crinkle of his thumb pressing into his cup and you knew he was fidgeting, thinking about something, and you knew he was going to break that silence. “Did I mess everything up?” He asked, so soft you barely heard it over the music from inside.

That make you turn your head, eyes meeting his finally. “It’s not your fault. I was there too, we both are responsible.”

“Then, did we mess everything up?”

You sighed, searching for the words. “I don’t think we messed everything up,” you told him finally. “But I don’t know if it can be like it was before.”

“Do you want it to be like it was before?”

His words made your heart jolt. “When we were friends?”

“Aren’t we still friends?” His words were so soft, so full of emotion, you wondered if this was the kind of conversation to be having right now.

“Yes,” you answered. “But…”

“Nothing more,” he finished. You nodded, and both of you were silent for a beat, letting the truth settle between you two. It was the first time you’d even acknowledged that anything had happened. “I don’t want…”

You turned to look at him and saw his tight his jaw was set, how his eyes were trained on the street in front of the building. How he could barely look at you. “H?”

When he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes were glassy, and you realized he was nearly crying. “I don’t want to go back to how it was before,” he said, words broken in his throat. “I want…I want more.”

That made your mind grind to a halt. “You—what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he whispered.

You realized he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much you felt for him, how much the night you’d spent together had absolutely destroyed any semblance of an ability to pretend like you weren’t into him, that you hadn’t had a crush on him for ages. He had no fucking clue. “Harry,” you said, reaching out and brushing your fingers along his forearm, “I want the same thing.”

His eyes widened, gaze falling to where your fingers touched his skin and back up to your eyes. “You do?” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face that he quickly mirrored. “Have we been absolute idiots?” He asked, turning on his heal so you were facing one another fully. Then, he reached up and ran his forefinger across your jawline, a shudder running through your body at the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

“I think we might have been,” you answered, ducking your head ever so slightly so that his finger ran up to your mouth, brushing across your bottom lip.

He cleared his throat when you dropped your jaw ever so slightly, just enough for his finger to press in-between your lips, a ghost of a touch. “Can’t even think when you’re looking at me like that,” he mumbled, words that same roughness you remembered from your night together.

“Right back at you,” you told him.

He stepped closer to you, closing the distance. “We’re such idiots,” he murmured, hand moving to cup your jaw, his fingers brushing under your ear.

“Such idiots,” you agreed.

And slowly, he closed the space between you two, his lips brushing yours hesitantly. But the second you felt his mouth slot between yours, you moved closer, pressing your body against his and your arms winding around his waist to hold him close. His other hand brushed down your side and the grip made your skin sing, finally being close to him was everything you needed. It healed the ache in your heart that had lingered ever since that morning, that morning when everything had gone so wrong.

His lips parted and he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough so your foreheads stayed touching.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, his breath on your lips.

“I got scared you would regret it in the morning,” you replied. “I didn’t want to be there when you did.”

He chuckled softly, a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t regret it,” he told you. “I thought you did.”

“I’m so stupid,” you said, one of your hands moving from his back to encircle his wrist that held your face. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to your nose so sweetly your knees just about gave out. “Got you in the end, right?”

You hummed an affirmation and leaned up so that your lips could reconnect, kissing him with a passion you’d been seeking for two weeks. And when he kissed you back, the tips of his hair brushing your skin and his fingers pressing against your skin, you sighed, finally feeling settled once again. You’d missed this—him, being this close to him. Somehow, that one night had made you permanently miss him.

He’d truly done a number on you.

“Wanna go home?” You asked between kisses, loving the soft moan that feel from his throat at the thought.

“As long as I wake up to you still next to me,” he replied.

“Promise,” you said, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you ended up keeping the apartment for the rest of the year, your stuff slowly ending up in his room because the mattress was more comfortable, and eventually your old room became a shared study room. It was where your desks ended up and you’d study there together in the evenings or marathon study sessions on the weekends, music playing from a speaker between you two. Most of the time, you ended up making out, though, and occasionally having sex on one of your desks or on the floor because frankly you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The sexual tension that had been there that first night had lingered, and it made it so you two truly couldn’t stop touching each other.

It drove your friends crazy, all of them yelling at you whenever you started making out at parties, reminding you that you were in public and you could hold off until you were home, thank you very much. And Harry just would kiss your temple and whisper in your ear about what he wanted to do to you later, and you’d pinch his bum to remind him that he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

Harry had never fallen in love with someone so fast, but with you it was easy. You had been one of his favorite people before you’d started dating, but now it was like you were truly the most incredible people in the world. He’d wake up with you snuggled into his chest, hair tickling his nose, and he’d get a kiss before you left bed since your class schedules started at the same time most days. You’d make his tea just like he liked it and rubbed his back when he got sick after a big night out, and when you laughed at one of his corny jokes your entire face would light up, a beaming smile that made his whole body ache. You were so gorgeous is physically hurt sometimes because he couldn’t stop staring at you, absorbing just how fucking perfect you were.

It was funny, because dating you wasn’t all that different from being your friend. He still got all the shared dinners and movie nights and hilarious stories the morning after a night out, but now he got to hear them while cuddling you on the couch, your head tucked against his neck. And when you teased him about how much of a boy he was (his snapback was your favorite target) you’d kiss him to make him stop pouting. But he was happy. He was so fucking happy with you.

He was thinking about all of that while you sat on the couch together, his head lying in your lap as you read a book for class, your fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. He was watching you, something he did often and you’d grown used to, and suddenly the overwhelming desire to finally tell you how he felt hit him like a truck.

And unlike previous attempts, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sure that they made you stop reading and look down at him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, drawing out the last word and tucking his face into your stomach, peppering kisses over your shirt. For some reason, he wasn’t nervous, knowing you’d say it or not and either way it was okay—he wasn’t expecting you to necessarily be ready. He just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew your mind was turning but he just kept kissing you, knowing the action would calm your anxious thoughts. “I love you too,” you finally said after a beat, and he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” you answered, setting your book down on the couch and smiling at him. “Wasn’t expecting to tell you quite like this, though.”

“How were you planning to tell me?”

You shrugged, rubbing a circle on his forehead. “Dunno. Something more monumental, I guess? I know you like all those romance movies, so I thought maybe something like in one of those.”

He adored the fact that you wanted to make it special, that you’d thought about it, but he just shook his head at you. “I don’t need it to be monumental,” he told you, brushing his fingers along your chin. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your hips, swinging you onto his lap with your laughter raining down on him. “Never going to stop telling you how perfect you are.”

He hooked his fingers on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, one of those ones that made your thoughts all mushy and his heart pound in his chest because sometimes the way he felt about you just made his whole body go silent except for his heart. Or, at least it felt that way.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your lips, eyes catching yours.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing his nose softly.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that is constantly competing over who loves the other person more?” He asked, nestling his head in the space between your shoulder and neck, settling there as your fingers swept through his hair. You wrapped around him like this was his favorite place to be.

“Probably,” you answered simply, a tender kiss to the side of his head. “Now, does this mean you’ll make dinner tonight? I’ve got a paper to edit.”

He laughed into your shoulder, picking his head up to look at you. “You make it sound like I don’t make dinner practically every night.”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. “You’re just better at it.”

“False, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“God, your ego has got to be massive now,” you mumbled, and he laughed, smile stretching across his face and dimples poking out.

“Alright, go start on your essay and I’ll cook something for us. Sound good?”

You beamed at him. “Perfect.” You bounced off his lap, grabbing your book and heading for your old room. “Love you!”

The words were called over your shoulder and Harry smiled at how perfect they sounded on your lips, how easy it was to answer back simply, “Love you more,” at your receding figure, the thought gracing his mind at how he’d like to be saying those words to you for a very, very long time.

HI I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!!! COME TALK TO ME IN MY INBOX AND PLEASE REBLOG SO MORE PEOPLE GET TO READ/SEE THIS!!! XOXOXOXO LOVE YOUUUU

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college harry styles #college!harry #college harry #roommate harry #roommate harry styles

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sushigal007 · 3 years

Text

To the Grunts!

We open up with Ripp and Buzz playing a nice little game of Punch-U, which makes a nice change from the first round, which was more Poke-U.

Buck: Absolutely not. Ripp: You’re tearing this family apart.

Buck is still super into cleaning.

And super into himself. Buck: Heeeey sexy, you scrub up good!

Buck: Bye bro!

Yep, it’s time for Ripp to head to college. He rolled La Fiesta Tech, so of course, he’s sharing a dorm with Johnny and Ophelia.

Back in Strangetown, Buck and Buzz head out for a little father-son bonding. Buck: Two coffees please.

Buzz: Just a nice, leisurely swim in the spent fuel pool.

Buck: Did you hear? Jenny Smith married an alien! That’s not news. Bottom: It is to me.

Wanda: No, it’s fine, I didn’t want a coffee or anything.

Turned Ripp’s old room into a music room. Buzz approves.

...I have no idea why I took this picture.

Buzz: Guess what I wanna do. All right, I can take a hint. Go talk sports to someone. Buzz: The other thing.

But first, I make him play piano at the Music Box because I’m bored of making him skill at home.

And then he really does talk sports with Cassandra, Cassandra: Not a big sportsball fan mysel- Buzz: LA LA LA CAN’T HEAR YOUR STUPID VOICE.

And then, just for lulz, I try out the cooking contest loophold to check it still works.

Buzz: But wait, what if it doesn’t glitch out this time and I end up serving chips I found at the back of the fridge?

Still glitched. Buzz: But wait, what if those stale old chips win?

WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!

I didn’t even know these two knew each other.

Hal: Nobody messes with the Capps! Ginger: I don’t even know what you’re talking about!

Elizabeth: Sounds like what you need is some security, and for a small, small, fee, I can offer you an exclusive contract... Sally: should I do something? Sally: Nah.

Sally and Ginger: *teen judgement intensifies*

Buzz: She’s still following me, isn’t she? Yep.

Secret Sue: Congrats on being the first person to successfully enter and win a cookery contest in like, three years. Buzz: Please leave me alone.

Buck got a genie lamp!

Any reason you delivered it all the way over there? Matchmaker: To annoy you, specifically.

Buzz, you just won a cookery contest, how did you mess up this badly?

Oh I see, it’s an excuse to upgrade.

Buzz: Sumo wrestlers. Buck: Rude.

Buck wanted to go on a date and his relationship panel showed me he had a bit of a thing going on with Sharla Ottomas.

Buck: Fancy commemorative photos!

You guys picked the absolute worst table to be cute at.

And they continue to choose awful places to be cute in.

Marginally better!

Priya: Personally I think this is a great place for romance.

Peter: I’m not gonna do one of those stupid macho dad intimidation talks, honest.

No, he’s just gonna drag the rest of the family out to judge Buck too.

Stella: Oh my God, you can’t just ask aliens if they’re UFO pilots. Buzz: Well I’m gonna.

Highs and lows at the Grunt household.

Buck: Such a nice day to do some painting. OK, but you know what’s even nicer?

Going on that beach vacay your dad had locked!

And of course, I couldn’t leave Tank and Ripp behind.

Brotherly bonding.

Relaxing massage.

Ripp: Wait, is this the hula or the Macarena?

Buzz: I want to live here. You’d better start saving up then, hadn’t you.

I thought the island was missing a little something, so I downloaded a super fancy hotel, made it over a bit, and sent Buzz along to test it out.

Finally my dreams of owning a luxury casino have paid off.

Buzz: Commemorative photo!

Buzz: It’s all right if I just sample one of these, right? Go right ahead! Got no weddings planned just yet, but it’s nice to have the venue ready.

I sent the family to the boardwalk the next day...

Then back to the hotel.

Buzz’s sons are very supportive of his new part time job as a wedding DJ.

Buzz: Sweet dreams.

Good thing there’s not a lot of traffic on Twikki Island.

Local: He’s not... Cashier: He is.

Yup, if a Sim rolls a want for new clothes while on vacation, I take that to mean they want to dress up in the local clothes, so Buck gets a pretty grass skirt.

Buck: I miss it already.

THE ZONE.

Juliet: *deafening silence* Buck: New bestie.

Buck: Great view of Strangetown from here. It sure is!

Buck: Great view of PT too. Uh, the Smith house is thataway. Buck: I said PT, not his house.

Horrible idea. Buck: You let Joan Mole flirt with Nathan Una. Fair point, let’s compromise - I’m not gonna make you do it myself, but I also won’t stop you if you decide to do it yourself, OK?

Aww.

Sunday! I decided it was time Buzz’s boys met Alexandra, so I invited them all over and I guess Alexandra had the same sort of idea because she brought Jules with her.

Jules: And I’m very happy to meet Buzz’s boys.

Ripp: I would’ve liked to meet slightly less of Alexandra though.

Buzz: That went well.

Tank: You’re gonna do that? Really? Ripp: The heart wants what the heart wants.

Jules: And for some reason what the heart wanted was to trek up ten flights of stairs to say goodbye.

Uberhood Index

#sims 2 #premades #Uberhood #grunt

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behaviourisms · 4 years

Text

have you ever gone island hopping in search for marshal for thirteen islands before coming upon the realisation that some of the villager names happen to be perfect for that character you’ve been struggling to name for five days straight ? just me ? oh , wild ! well , while i cry for every day that i still don’t have marshal , here for your enjoyment is a masterlist of animal crossing names anyways ! if this actually helped you in any way , please like or reblog this post !

a :

ace

admiral

agnes

alfonso

alice

alli

amelia

anabelle

annalisa

annalise

antonio

apollo

astrid

audie

aurora

ava

avery

axel

aziz

b :

bea

beau

becky

bella

belle

benedict

benjamin

bertha

bessie

bettina

betty

bianca

bill

billy

blaire

bob

boris

boyd

bree

bruce

butch

c :

carmen

caroline

carrie

cece

celeste

celia

cesar

chai

charlise

chelsea

cheri

chester

chip

chrissy

chuck

c.j.

clara

claude

claudia

cleo

clyde

cobb

coco

cole

colton

curt

cyd

cyrus

d :

daisy

deena

del

derwin

diana

dom

dora

drake

e :

elina

elise

ellie

elmer

eloise

elvis

emerald

epona

erik

étoile

eugene

eunice

f :

faith

fang

fauna

felicity

flash

flo

flora

francine

frank

franklin

freya

friga

frita

g :

gabi

gala

gaston

gayle

gen

genji

gigi

giovanni

gladys

gloria

gracie

graham

greta

gulliver

gwen

h :

hamlet

hank

hans

harry

harriet

harvey

hazel

hector

henry

holden

hopkins

hopper

hugh

i :

iggy

ike

isabelle

j :

jack

jacob

jacques

jane

jay

jeremiah

joan

joe

joey

judy

julia

julian

june

k :

kaitlin

katie

katrina

katt

keaton

ken

kevin

kiki

kit

kitt

klaus

knox

kody

kyle

l :

leif

leigh

leila

leilani

leonardo

leopold

lily

lionel

liz

lloid

lopez

lottie

louie

lucy

lulu

luna

lyle

lyman

m :

mabel

mac

maddie

maelle

maggie

mallary

maple

marcel

marcie

marcy

margie

marina

marshal

marty

mathilda

medli

megan

megumi

melba

midge

mint

mira

miranda

moe

molly

monique

monty

murphy

n :

nan

nana

naomi

nat

nate

norma

o :

octavian

olaf

olive

olivia

opal

orville

otis

oxford

p :

paolo

pashmina

patricia

paula

peggy

penelope

penny

pete

petunia

phil

phineas

phoebe

phyllis

pierce

pierre

pietro

piper

poppy

porter

portia

prince

puck

q :

queenie

r :

raymond

redd

reese

renée

reneigh

rex

rhoda

rhonda

ricky

rio

rizzo

roald

robin

rocket

rod

rodney

rolf

rooney

rory

roscoe

rosie

rover

rowan

ruby

rudy

s :

sally

samson

sandy

savannah

serena

shari

sheldon

simon

skye

soleil

spike

stella

sterling

stu

sue

sunny

sven

sydney

sylvana

sylvia

t :

tammi

tammy

tank

tasha

teddy

tex

tia

tiara

tiffany

timmy

toby

tom

tommy

tybalt

u :

ursala

v :

valise

velma

verdun

vesta

vic

viché

victoria

violet

vivian

vladimir

w :

wade

walker

walt

weber

wendell

wendy

whitney

wilbur

willow

winnie

wolfgang

y :

yuka

z :

zell

zoe

zucker

#rph #character help #character inspo #writing help #name masterlist #mi: name masterlist #mi: masterlist #ml: name #mine*

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hirokiyuu · 2 months

Note

22, 28, 29?

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

GOD. REALLY WHAT IS IT. honestly theres multiple parts to me depending on my mood

-partially it is comedy. i love when guys are in situations where theyre like. why am i here. ie aksh au where theyre online friends and akira occasionally talks abt the crazy hot guy on tv and akch just has to sit there bc he cant expose himself. yjn/leona soulmate au where the first things they say to each other that are permanently tattooed on their skin are [BEEP] and [BEEP]. u kno how it is

-the other thing tho is i just get Compelled. i need to think abt them falling in love over and over bc its just so satsifying.......... love wins and its real and they care for each other.............. u kno. oughgognGHOIHGGOIHG

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

honestly my biggest writing advice really is just. write at least a little bit as much as u can. i dont have a daily wordcount or anything but my ceramics teacher in hs was really big on us making as much as we could bc the more we worked w/the clay the better we got even if we were just making shitty pinch pots. its the same thing. the more you write even if its drabbles etc the better you get. and then you can take those skills u get from your, say, 3 sentence prompts (lol) and apply them everywhere else

29. What's the hardest thing about writing?

Every Single Fucking Thing.

ok the real answer is like, when ive got a fic mostly finished but it needs either more of an intro or more of an ending or i need a bit of filler in the middle and i put it off for later bc i didnt wanna do it right them. when i have to write the parts im not emotionally horny for. when i wrote the dish/soap ridge confession fic i was fighting for my life for the first like half a page and i feel like you can Really Tell. u kno how it is

but also Every Single Fucking Thing

#that one post thats like the only thing worse than making it is not making it #i feel that. deep in my soul.#asks #ask meme #obstinaterixatrix #TANK U STELLA. CHU

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edgeofmyniall · 4 years

Text

nine: take you home

storypage | playlist | taglist | thoughts

“I wanna take you home and I ain't talkin' about a two mile ride back to my place. Oh, this ain't the same old song about two hearts hooking up one and done, on a Friday. No boy, I'm talking about a map-dot town, nobody knows that'll tell you everything you need to know about me and why I talk like I do and why I'm falling for you and why I take it slow. I wanna take you home...”

A/N: thank you so much for following me on this journey of telling Ginger’s and Niall’s story! i’m glad they are bringing you joy and hopefully making realize to have courage to follow your heart. big love to everyone who comments, asks, reblogs, and likes each chapter. i see you. thank you.

TWO WEEKS LATER

GInger was mad.

After two weeks, things had gone back to normal...sort of.

Stella was still hoarding Ginger’s house and phone. Ginger was still working from home due to “cutbacks” at the office. In reality, the higher ups liked the fact that Ginger could get her job done from outside the brick and mortar building. And if Ginger was being honest, it was a little freeing, but she desperately missed Sheila and had set up a meeting with her manager for a bit of negotiation.

But in this moment, Ginger was pissed. She was currently losing to Niall at her all-time favorite game: Scrabble.

Niall had just scored thirty-one points for a two letter word and Ginger was not having it.

“QI is not a word, damnit!” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and let her anger stew.

“Says it right here in your dictionary,” Niall held up the thick pocket dictionary and pointed to the word QI. “Just playing by the rules.” He was smiling, trying to contain his fit of laughter bubbling in his abdomen.

“Well…” Ginger was thinking of anyway for that word not to be on the board because it wasn’t fair. It was cheating. “Well… your placement is bullshit. It’s wrong,” Ginger leaned up to the table and rearranged her seven letters once again. She couldn’t believe she was losing.

“It’s totally fair, Gin! Triple letter!” Niall picks up the Q letter once again to show Ginger that it was in fact still there and his word was in fact legal. “You’re just a sore loser.” If steam coming out of ears was a thing, Ginger would be a steamboat. Her face and neck were red and he knew she was flustered. Ginger could not lose, they both knew this, and yet, Niall kept smiling at his losing girlfriend and couldn’t wait for the imaginative argument to ensue.

“Shut your face, Horan.” Ginger mumbled before putting down “U-I-Z” next to Niall’s Q. She began counting on her fingers how many points she had just scored.

“Twenty-two,” Niall looks up at Ginger, his brow scrunched as his smile is still plastered on his face.

“How do you do that?” Ginger asks as she adds the new number to her total answer. She was in charge of keeping up with both and currently, she was losing by a total of twelve points. The new sums made Ginger want to quit the game and go to bed. She never loses.

“I dunno, I just do. Kinda like how you never lose?” Ginger looked up at Niall with murder written in her eyes. If she could reach across the dinner table and wrap her hands around that arrogant neck of Niall’s and apply slight pressure- just enough to make him see black spots and to get him to listen- she would be fine. But that’s called premeditated murder and Ginger didn’t not want to go to prison over a Scrabble game.

“Also like how you’re not getting any tonight…” Ginger casually says as Niall is leaned over the board. He pauses before placing an unknown tile on the board and Ginger is trying to see what he’s trying to spell. “Please use American spelling…”

“You wouldn’t…” Niall breathes. He hasn’t moved a muscle since Ginger’s threat left her mouth.

“Play your word or forfeit, Niall.”

“Ginger…”

“You’re fucking with me…” Niall places the tile, but his eyes are still on Ginger. She hasn’t broken character and he’s praying he is calling her bluff.

“Not tonight I’m not…” She wanted to laugh, but she wasn’t going to lose at this game too. Niall pushes the board off the table causing Ginger to scream and he sits back into his chair and pouts.

“You’re a fuckin’ sore loser. Remind me to never play you again.” Niall huffs before standing up. He looks down at Ginger who is laughing into her hand. “You made me make a mess. You’re a...butthead.”

Ginger smiled as she crouched down to pick up the game board and wooden letters. She had won in a way, and when asked, she could say that she had never been beaten at Scrabble.

“So…” Niall is leaning against the wall of the dining room. He carefully looks at his nails before speaking again. “Remember in Hawaii when you said you wanted to go home?”

“Yeah,” Ginger answers, still not looking up from the few tiles left to pick up.

“You weren’t talkin’ ‘bout LA, were ya?” Niall quirks a brow up as he feels his heart beat faster.

“Um, not exactly,” Ginger straightens up and places the game back on the table. Niall was up to something...again. “What are you up to?”

“I got Tara to book me jet to Atlanta in three days, I think.” Ginger, while she wasn’t doing anything, stopped where she was. Her body was in shock. She was going home? With Niall? After all these years of school and work, Ginger may have gone back to Georgia once or twice a year. Travel was bad around the holidays and while she enjoyed spending the much needed time together, it was the plane ride to and from that kept her from visiting as much.

“I want to meet your parents, Gin.”

She had gone into complete shock. No guy wanted to meet Ginger’s parents. They usually had already ran by the time Ginger had gotten that far into the relationship, and yet here with Niall, he had made all the arrangements to do so.

“Are you sure?” Ginger asks, finally able to speak. She steps towards Niall and a smile plasters across his face. “They’ll love you….but what about-”

“Don’t worry about it, petal. I’m boyishly charming, remember?” The excitement of going home finally hit Ginger. She wraps her arms around Niall’s neck and kisses him, deep and long. Their tongues roll against one another and she feels butterflies floating around her stomach.

“You never cease to amaze me, Ni. I’ve got to call my mom,” Ginger pulls away and grabs her phone off the table. Her fingers begin to tap the number in, but she stops as she notices Niall walking away.

“Hey, butthead!” Ginger calls out. Niall’s head pops around the corner.

“If you’re renting a vehicle, make sure it’s a four-wheel drive.”

Niall nods as Ginger puts the phone up to her ear, a smile painted across her freckled face. He did that. He made her happy. He finally heads to the bathroom when he hears “Hey mama, guess what…”

Niall is a simple man. He likes what he likes and he dislikes what annoys him, and at this very moment what was truly annoying him was Ginger’s stuff scattered around the bathroom. He keeps his bathroom neat, everything in its place or he used to until Ginger temporarily moved in. Now instead of a neat and organized sink, there was red hair on the floor, toothpaste stains on Ginger’s toothbrush, and face washes that never worked on her. The toilet now had a decoration of tampons on the tank lid and the shower was overrun by shampoos and conditioners alike. And even though it gave him the slightest bit of anxiety, he was happy.

~~~~~~~

“You ready?” Niall asks as the jet takes off. His stomach always did a thing when the plane first took off and one would be used to it by now seeing how he’s flown across the world multiple times, but it hadn’t and he squeezes the arm rest until the stewardess peeks her head out and lets them know they’re safe for unbuckling.

“You know…” Ginger says, pulling Niall out of his flight panic. She’s on her knees in front of him. There’s a twinkle in her eyes and seduction in her voice. “I never really thanked you for doing this.” Her fingers walk up his leg and his heart stops as he swallows hard. He rest his head in between his thumb and forefinger as he looks down at the woman drives him crazy in lust.

Ginger’s fingers stop at the brim of his pants. She pops the button through the hole and giggles to herself as she slowly unzips the zipper of Niall’s pants. She looks up at him, slightly biting her lip, as her hand trails up his torso only to grab a fist full of brown locks to pull him down to meet her eager lips.

They were soft and plump and tasted like watermelon. Her tongue overpowered his and he let the moan he had been building up collapse into her mouth, and she moaned back. She wanted him to touch her, to flick her nipples with his tongue, to have his calloused fingers rub against her clit. But what she wanted more than ever was to take Niall deep into her mouth. Her free hand slipped under the elastic of Niall’s briefs and began to tug against the semi-harden dick.

Ginger let go of their kiss and let the grasp go from Niall’s hardened cock long enough to pull his pants down. Ginger smiled as she thought of Niall grasping the back of her head to push her down further inside her mouth and like the thought had floated through the air, Niall’s dick twitched.

Ginger’s tongue slid up the shaft, teasing the frenulum with the flicking of her tongue, only to hear the raspy “oh fuck” come from Niall. Her lips engulf his tip and the wet, warm sensation drove Niall crazy. He wanted to fuck her mouth, to cum down her throat. The extra saliva that fell from her mouth was used a makeshift lubricant for her hand. Ginger pushed her mouth down Niall’s stiffened dick, her tongue wagging against the skin. She bobbed her head up and down creating her own rhythm, nice and slow, along with her hand. Niall’s hand rested against the back of her head as she continuously licked his dick.

Her warm mouth hollowed out as she took in the wrinkled skin of his balls. Flicking her tongue between the two testicles, she began to slightly suck one of them and playfully flicked both of them with her wet tongue. She herself felt herself become wet at the raspy voice calling out her name. She wanted to ride him until they landed. She wanted him inside her until they couldn’t take it anymore.

Niall’s dick twitched again and Ginger found her jaw hurting slightly. Her hand continuously pumped the soft pink skin. Ginger, after the several weeks of being together, had not gotten used to his thickness. She stretched her mouth and began to suck harder against his cock. Her tongue worked feverishly along the shaft and as she dipped her head up and down, Niall began to swear in Galeic.

Ginger pushed her mouth down further and felt the tip of Niall’s cock hit the back of her throat. She gagged and tears came to her eyes as she pumped her mouth against him. His dick was wet from her mouth and he felt his body become heavy as his stomach wind up, like spring coiling tightly as Ginger looked up at him.

Her pussy ached to be touched when she saw Niall breathless. His eyes were screwed shut and his brow furrowed. He was on the verge of coming undone. He raked his fingers in Ginger’s hair and thrusted his hips in her face, pushing his dick further inside her mouth. “Jesus Christ...fuck….Ginger…” The small tears stained her face as Niall came in her mouth. The small spurts tasted salty and it made Ginger gag further. She wanted to swallow just to get the taste out her mouth. Letting Niall fall out of her mouth, Ginger smiled as she swallowed down his undoing.

“You’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Niall, have you ever driven on a dirt road before?” Ginger sat in the passenger seat of the jeep as Niall drove down the interstate. “The irrigation systems will be going by the time we get there.”

“Yes,” Niall answers, not quite sure if he had or hasn’t. He couldn’t really remember any dirt roads in his life.

“Dirt driveways don’t count.” Ginger laughs and Niall begins to thumb the steerwheel. “At least let me drive when we get to town.”

~~~~~

Laurel Springs hadn’t changed in the eight years since Ginger left. It still had the mom and pop shops downtown along with the theatre that had been built in the early thirties to help the local economy while the war was going on. The cobblestone streets that surround the library still needed replacing, but the one thing that Ginger could point out that changed was the amount of churches had grown.

“We’re in the Bible belt, what do you expect?” Ginger said as Niall sighed after the fifth church she pointed out.

“I could spit and hit two…” Ginger rolled her eyes and followed the four lane state road that led out to her family’s farm. It was at a stoplight on the edge of town that Ginger was honked at. Niall, confused, turned around to see nothing in his rear view mirror. “What the-”

“Hey Ginger!” a southern drawl pulled Niall to the driver side. It was a small framed brunette woman frantically waving at the two of them. “When did you get to town?”

“Just now,” Ginger called out over the window. It was Alex, Ginger’s high school best friend. They had grown apart their senior year of high school, but Ginger still very much cared for Alex. “Going to visit my parents.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is that your boyfriend?” Niall was leaning over and he found himself waving at the woman.

“He seems to think so.” Ginger and Alex laugh as the light turns green.

“Love to catch up while you’re in town. Love you, baby girl.” Alex speeds off and when Ginger rolls the window up, Niall is beyond confused. Ginger hits the gas and answers all of Niall’s unspoken questions.

“That was Alex. My best friend from school. Also my ex-girlfriend.” Ginger side eyes Niall as he nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Ex-girlfriend? I didn’t…”

“It was a one time thing. Most girls experiment in college, but I had already been there when I was in high school. She was after John Doe…” Niall shakes his head like he understands, but the further south they drive, the little he knows about Ginger.

“Why do people keep waving? Do you know everyone in this town?” Niall asks as the fifth person that passes them waves.

“No,” Ginger giggles, “it’s just something us southern people do.”

The dirt road that leads to the Blake Farm was just off the state road. It was a narrow red road that was walled by fields on either side. The overhanging metal irrigation system was currently watering both sides of the fields and the cold water had hit the vehicle.

The overgrown grass the ditches sprang to life as Ginger drove down the road. She was humming to the music that was playing and Niall knew this was Ginger’s happiness. The red barn at the end of the road had come into sight causing Ginger to brake.

“My parents… can be a little overbearing, but they come from a good place. Just let me do the talking.”

“You mean word vomiting?”

“Shut up.”

~~~~~~

The two story brick home was a lot smaller than Niall imagined, but the smell of fresh cut grass was exactly how Ginger described their farm. Penny’s bright colored flowers were planted in her small garden in the front, and the vegetable garden that Jack insisted on having was in the back. The small front porch was white with a large dog barking in the glass door.

“It’s Texas, our German shepherd.” Ginger smiled as Niall unloaded the car. He somehow felt like he was in hillbilly hell.

When the two had gotten their luggage from the Jeep, the glass door swung open and Texas bolted to the missing family member. Texas whined and cried as she found her best friend home again. Ginger let the dog lick her face and jump on her as she tried to hug and pet her companion. It was oblivious to Texas that there was a stranger standing next to Ginger.

“Texas, get in here. Stop harassing the neighborhood,” Jack called out, but Texas didn’t listen. It was when Ginger told her to sit that she finally submitted.

“Hold your hand out, and tell her that she’s a good girl,” Ginger coaxed Niall. He was half afraid that the dog would reject him and he would no longer be able to play guitar, but when the soft words came from his mouth and when he brushed the soft brown and black fur, Texas was his friend.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up,” Jack was wrapping his arms around his daughter when Niall straightened up. “Haven’t seen you since two Christmases ago. Your mother she’s…”

“Worried sick,” the pair said together. They began to chat to make up for old times, as if they hardly speak to each other. It was the small clearing of Niall’s throat that broke their conversation.

“This is Niall, dad. He’s…” Ginger lost her words and the awkward silence of judgement felt heavy on her shoulders.

“Aren’t you that boy who was in the English band? The one that Ginger was obsessed with? What were they called? One Direction?”

“Obsessed?” Niall quirked a brow up at Ginger before offering his hand to the aging man. “Niall Horan sir, and yes that’s me.”

“You don’t sound English. I’ll tell you what those news people always lie.”

“Dad, he’s Irish,but can we go inside? We’ve been traveling all day and I want to see mom before supper.” Jack laughed and took Ginger’s luggage. She stepped inside her childhood home and felt the happiest she had been since before leaving.

Niall felt a small slap on the back as Jack and Niall were walking up the stairs. “I hope you feel like you’re home. Ginger’s a good girl, she’s been through a lot, and-”

“Sir,” Niall cut off Jack, his shoulder aching from Ginger’s bag. “Your daughter is the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Did you rehearse that?” Jack points a finger at Niall with a toothy grin.

“Yes sir, I did,” And the two laugh before walking inside of the house. The anxiety he had built up on the way over washed away as he saw Penny and Ginger hugging in the living room.

~~~~~~~ “Your parents,” Niall started to say as he closed the door behind him. They had spent the last two hours talking about Niall’s career and getting to know the man that had swept their little girl off their feet. “Are amazing. They really care about you.” It was the first time that Niall had felt anxiety free. But when he closed the door, he had a chance to get to know the Ginger he never knew.

Trophies of rec softball and soccer lined the walls on shelves and pictures taped on the far right side of the room. A single poster of Niall’s former band mates was taped on the side of Ginger’s dresser. And he smiled at the thought of a seventeen year old Ginger listening to their debut album.

“So who was your favorite?” Niall asks as he looks at himself in the poster. He had grown up since that picture was taken in 2011.

“Don’t even…” Ginger sighed from embarrassment. “I was not obsessed.”

“You’re living every fanfiction dream right now. Lucky you…” Niall turned with a devilish look on his face. Black eyes lingering on GInger make a shiver drop through her spine.

“Lucky me,” Ginger breathes in. The aroma of Niall’s familiar scent takes over her. She wants him more than she did on the plane. Niall takes Ginger’s chin in between his fingers and whispers Ginger’s wish.

“Sit on my face.”

~~~~~

@oyesmendes @klairelavarias @dontgiveupthedayjob @hannahollan1181 @kare38 @verorax @stayclose-holdsteady @halfpinthoran @angrynarry

#niall horan #niall au #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fic #1dff #one direction fanficiton #niall horan smut #niall horan imagine #1d smut

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heroes-writing · 4 years

Note

I need to send ir on two parts So heres first! Hai! I really would like to send u a pic but i dont know how aaah Okay So: shes 17yo i have Story like She trained with Garou when He was still in dojo, i Hope u understand uwu. Also shes really powerfull Esper / she fall from Sky (cosmic Esper) She Is 160cm tall but She have 170-180 cm long hair i know crazy 😂 She wears glasses and shes blind without them. Umh personality: like caring, really sweet but also rude at the same time. Kinda cocky, but

Hello @voilabuki!

Here’s a cute scenario with Garou and Aria! I tried my best to write your OC and what you requested!

I hope you enjoy,

Stella

Word count: 935

“Garou! What are you doing— Hey, stop!”

“Eeh?” Garou stood up menacingly from a hulking crouch, carelessly tossing the pieces of Mumen Rider’s cracked helmet aside, next to the pile of groaning Tank-Toppers. Was someone else asking for a beating? He cracked his neck lazily before turning around to face the voice.

“What do you think you’re doing? Are you stupid or what?” The girl stomped her foot angrily, hands on her hips. Her agitation was lifting long skeins of hair away from her body, giving the impression that she was underwater. The strands waved about like charmed snakes.

“Oh, Aria. It’s you. I’m uh, hunting...heroes. Duh.”

She let out a huge sigh and pushed her thick glasses up with a finger. “Seriously? Don’t you have better things to do? I thought it was just a rumor and came to check, but you really are stupi—”

“—Gimme a sec, I gotta finish pulping these guys.”

“For the love of god, Garou, they’re barely ranked, don’t you dare turn your back on m— Garou!”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?”

“You should know. I’m going to beat you until you see sense, of course. It’ll be just like old times,” she said cockily. Her body began glowing with the telltale absinthe green of an esper-type fighter.

Garou snorted. “Heh. When I win, you’re going to let me finish my business here. I think you’ll be surprised at how things have changed...” He answered her invitation for a spar with a powerful leap, his hands outstretched to grab and throw her.

He was gently rebuffed by an invisible current, his aggressive trajectory redirected to the right of Aria. “When I win, you’re going to go home and think about what you’ve done. Now sit.” Her hand came up, helping her visualize the molding of psychic energy, and she exerted a crushing pressure on Garou.

Cracks appeared on the concrete, instantaneously spidering out from his feet as he resisted what felt like increased gravity weighing on every single bone in his body. He feigned weakness, knees yielding in the slightest manner, and he gave himself a few seconds to get used to moving against the added resistance. This was basically weight training on steroids, he told himself…

“I worry about you, you know. You always were hot-headed, off doing dumb crap and dragging me with you... Anyway, you can’t move. Now, do you concede the match?”

“I…” His toes curled and flexed freely. Then he pounced.

She staggered back and sat hard on her backside, the green glow blinking out abruptly as her concentration broke with surprise. “What the— ow! What the hell, Garou! My glasses! That was a low blow, damn—” A slow trickle of blood started flowing out her nostrils.

“...” To be frank, Garou was a bit surprised at the outcome himself. He had clocked her good. This had never happened before in their spars (being an esper meant that everything usually ended up being pretty low-contact) and he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Aria wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve. “What do you have to say for yourself? Don’t give me the silent treatment. We might be friends but god if I’m not pissed at you right now.”

“Uh.” Damn, he didn’t mean to bloody her nose or break her glasses. He hadn’t really thought about what would happen afterwards, he had just acted on instinct. As usual. If the coyote had ever managed to catch that roadrunner...that was what Garou probably felt like right now.

The girl heaved a huge sigh. “You know I can’t see without my glasses, stupid, now I’m going to have to wait for like a week or something to get another pair. Damn it, Garou.”

“Um.” He finally leaned over her and offered her a hand up. “Let’s get out of here before people find out.”

She took it grudgingly and pulled herself up. “Fine. I guess I’ll find my way home. Somehow. I can’t do anything else in this state.”

Garou laughed in her face. “For an esper, you’re pretty helpless. Can’t even fix your own eyesight, huh.”

“I will find you and kill you slowly. When I can see again.”

“That’s dumb. What’s so great about psychic powers when you can’t even use it without seeing your target.”

Aria gave Garou a nasty glare in his general direction. She dusted herself off as she took out her phone to call a friend, placing it inches away from her face and squinting at the screen.

“Hey, hey, you don’t need to do that. Put your phone away. I’ll get you home, Aria. I guess.” He sounded very guilty under the reluctant tone.

She looped her hands around his forearm as he offered it. “That’s sweet of you, but I guess it’s the least you can do after all this. Anyways, maybe we can catch up. Oh! What about those guys…”

“They’re alive. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, okay…” Aria took what she could get, unwilling to press further. She tugged at his arm to signal him to get going, and both began walking down the path towards her house. “Had dinner yet?”

“I never say no to free food.”

“I didn’t say it was free. Hey, turn left on 3rd when we get to it.”

“Then I pass. The dumpster’s always free, and it never talks back.”

If she remembered what he’d said was his prize for winning, she cleverly didn’t mention it. Garou and Aria continued bickering all the way to her place, his hero hunt seemingly abandoned for now.

#opm #one punch man #opm scenario #one punch man scenario #garou #oc #original character #garou x original character #voilabuki #mod stella

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penname-artist · 4 years

Text

Emergency - Chapter Two

Chapter Title: Silent on the Outside - Screaming on the Inside

Rated PG

[Planes fanfic]

-----

“What’s going on?” Blade asked, approaching the garage again. “Fuel tank exploded.” Maru said, he and the other forklift rushing to refill water tanks. “I hate to put you on the spot but we kind of need all the help we can get right now.”

“Don’t you guys have a chief, or some kind of leading system?” the helicopter asked. “Well, we did,” The light blue pittie chimed in, “until he was fired…” “This is kind of a recent thing.” Maru told him. Other firefighters were already starting up, engines roaring all across the tarmac. Stella had just taken off after the others, a greyed Fairchild C-119 right behind her. "I'll do what I can." Blade concluded, leaving the two forklifts behind to take off after the rest of the crew. The explosion was far too close to the lodge for comfort. And it wasn't going to be an easy fix, either. With as much gasoline as there was drenching the region, the fire was spitting out in record time over the forest, gaining speed over the high winds. "Get the edges blocked off before it gets any further!" Stella radioed. "I need to take care of the tank itself to try and keep it from getting worse." One voice said back. His voice was deep and cracked, but not just from the static. Blade waited at enough of a distance to be out of the way while Stella and a couple other tankers and seaplanes worked on the walls. He was impressed with their choices of taking action, even if it got a little messy over the communications. But it was what needed to be done, leader or no leader. Blade found himself in a management position before he knew it, however - watching from above he could see where the fire was moving better than most of the planes could. He relayed it to the others and tried to coordinate who was to drop when and where for them, so no one got in each other's way. No one in the established team seemed to mind though; they actually felt relieved of the helicopter’s initiative. No one else wanted to take such a high-risk leadership role anyways, especially not if they were going to go through and get bit in the aft again, like their last boss had, rather unexpectedly. They never knew how bad it was, or had become. Looking back, however, it seemed only inevitable. On Blade’s part, he didn't even know he had been taking over, until the later realisation that the fire was well under control. "Guess you showed up to the right place at the right time, Blaze!" Stella exclaimed. "Thanks." Blade said, a slight grin on his face. But soon enough, when he realized how she had addressed him, the smile faded. Reality froze, and the past slunk in like a dark, inky black serpent, uninvitedly raiding his subconscious.

He told him it would be alright. Said the weather wasn't that bad today. Hell, it was all supposed to clear up and be perfect and sunny out by noon. He had reassured him, even though things were tough and time wasn't on their side that morning, and he told him everything was going to be fine, the way that it always was. The way he believed would always be.

Only it wasn't.

Two years hadn’t changed his state of mind. He was as afraid of the past now as he was the day of the accident. An accident he could have controlled, but hadn’t. Something he saw coming, like a train barreling down the tracks to the remnants of a demolished bridge, but that of which he never decided to change. How could he have been so stupid! And it was his actions, or lack thereof, that had cost him everything. That cost his partner everything.

Nick would have still been here otherwise.

A part of him didn’t want to have taken charge over the situation with the fire. If he was left to lead, a single mistake would cause another catastrophic upset. He would rather have not showed up to be in there way. He didn’t want to grow close to anyone here - he really hadn’t meant to at his last station either - and he certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any more heartaches, both physical and mental. What happened to him was his problem, and what happened to others would be entirely out of his mind. There would be no strings attached to them - like a stranger dying, there would be no meaning to truly and deeply care. No pain strong enough to rip apart the delicate fabrics of your own sanity and self-control. But that was the problem with him. He couldn’t just let anyone get hurt, no matter how little that he knew of them. Not even strangers. Not while he was alive and breathing, and there to help. He’d always thought it a weakness. Try as he might, he couldn’t not be in the way to help. Even now his tormented soul remained conflicted; to help and be hurt, or to leave and let suffer. And it was starting to tear him apart. It meant he’d have to endure loss all over again, no matter which way he went, and to feel that pain over and over again until one day, it’d surely push him over the edge.

The team finished the walls around the fire within a few hours of the initial call, hoping that as the ground stayed wet, the flames would die out on their own, and then the ground firefighters could finish off the rest. All was as good as they could get it. For now, anyways, though the lodge may have to deal with a gasoline-burning bonfire for a few days until it was dried up. Blade was already on his way to calling it quits when he made it back to the base. His mind was drained and his body was wracked by extension. And yet everyone wanted a proper introduction. They wanted to know the real face behind their favorite actor. Well, sorry to disappoint, but he was no charismatic charmer - quite the opposite, despite his background - and was in no mood to entertain them today. Blade sighed and tried to push it all down as anxieties surfaced again. ”Shut up and smile for them, damnit.” He could hear the director’s words ringing in his ears, ”It’s what they came here to see.” Yes, because just smiling gets so many things done in the world. “So what’s with the big career u-turn thing then?” Paul asked, while Blade was getting a late start to his shop inspection. Supposedly, Maru and Paul were the “expert” mechanics in the base, and they wanted to ensure that his engine was up to their personal standards before he could be deemed fit for work - even though he was already a certified firefighter and helped them out already in their last incident, but who’s really paying attention anyways? “Just..something I always wanted to do.” He lied, knowing full-well that such a fib could lead down a rabbit-hole of problems. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of this organisation-forsaken garage and back to somewhere he could breathe in peace. “I thought they went and cancelled the series after...you-know-what.” “They considered it.” Blade answered flatly, grinding his teeth until they hurt. “Poor kid.” Paul mentioned, “They shouldn’t have let him do all his own tricks. Especially not at his age, with his kind of experience.” It took a miracle and then some for Blade not to have ripped the thin metal plating right off that pittie and crush him like a tin can. It also took a miracle and then some not to tear out of the garage like a madman and say “To hell with you, I’m going back home!”. How he hadn’t snapped yet was anyone’s guess. Maybe he was just past the point of no return.

#disneyplanes #planesfireandrescue #bladeranger #planesfanfiction #livingmachines #livingaircraft

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thatdamnokie · 6 years

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today, i watched rocknrolla for the first time and kept a running tab of live commentary which can be found below the cut and is a stupid amount of ridiculous and will not make ANY sense unless you’ve also seen rocknrolla and like--have some vague memory of how the movie happens because this was all pretty much stream-of-consciousness or whatever.

yoooo i dig the opening song. okay. off to a good start.

for real thought the dark castle logo was hogwarts fml

is that… mark’s voice?

who is this muscular motherfucker?

LOOK AT THAT FUCKING BONG PIPE THING

that’s as tall as a toddler what the fuck

look at all these people in this movie!

THAT WAS MARK

mr. strong ladies and gentleman

… wait lenny looks super familiar, what else have i seen him in.

this all seems very complicated.

idris and gerard!

counselor’s cute too

why is everyone in this movie so fucking cute

WHERE ELSE HAVE I SEEN THIS GUY

every time mark speaks i jump

wait is that—gerard’s actual accent?

lenny, you are a terrifying dude.

and mark i want to ruffle your hair.

archie, that profile, sweet gracious.

… fuck he’s in the background and i just can’t stop looking at him.

this all sounds very, very complicated.

he calls him “len” omg

“do i look like a fucking immigrant” u h m

okay so pretty sure i don’t like lenny, they should just let archie be the leader

enter the russiannnsss

your sweater is dumb russian guy

i like his accent though

guys i don’t know enough about real estate hustling to be able to explain this to another person

aw sweet russian sweater man giving him his painting

… wait no camera man show me the painting

“whiskey is the new vodka” sure yuri whatever you say

lenny i can shoot whiskey better than you can you fucking bitch

dude you can’t hold your sauce can you?

archie

archie help him

fuck he is so handsome

that jawline

“famous archie smile” I WANNA SEE

dude you need to be nicer to people when whiskey makes you that sweaty?

… i’m sorry but i think i could outdrink arch’s boss???

bless whoever made mark narrator

yooooo stella!

i like her!

dude she looks boss as fuck

“i don’t feel like smiling”

dude a marriage of convenience where you don’t have regular sex sounds awful

“welcome to the—speeler?” did he say speeler?

tom!

some of the names in the opening credits didn’t look familiar but these faces do.

wait is gerard gay or was he making a joke?

that. accent. gracious.

just picture that growling in your ear. fuck, i want a british boyfriend guys. i mean it.

i like the color scheme of all this like everything’s—muted, but still classy?

okay i dig 1-2 and stella’s broship.

can you imagine just calling him twelve to save time

“just a black eye, nothing more.”

dude she has louboutins! or something like them! the ones with the red bottoms, i’m probably misspelling it.

hanging out at the country club. very classy.

arch, you’re all limbs.

… you’re also scary.

duuuuude he has a way of talking that just makes me nervous. like an undercurrent of a threat, things implied…

“in there like swimwear” i’m stealing that.

duuuuude lenny’s robe though?

i got office envy! look at that desk.

WHO FALLS BACKWARDS IN THEIR CHAIR

oh shit they took the painting

… that i still don’t know what it looks like, guys let me see it

len you are boned.

“and archie’s gonna have to go… to work.”

he is literally the tallest dude in every shot.

is he giving him slapping lessons rn.

… yes he is.

oh no

JESUS

ARCHIE

we do NOT HIT PEOPLE

gracious.

i’m torn because on one hand, that would probably really fucking hurt, his hands are probably as big as my fucking face

on the other hand—would i let mark strong slap me?

… maybe.

“but you keep the receipts because this ain’t the mafia”

idrisssss

fuck if he smiled at me like that i’d do whatever he said too

“everybody have fun tonight! <3” :D EVERYBODY WANG CHUNG TONIGHT

“now fuck off”

oh twelve

ugh all the style in this movie.

wardrobe goals.

i want that bag.

“… maybe.” bro you said that like you wanted the d, and i can’t say i blame you.

i like how yuri says london.

for a split second i thought that was tom holland???

ohhhhh what’s gonna happen now!

does everyone just like—drive mark around in these movies

OMG it’s the same money

this shit is hysterical

i want to mess his hair up. because if we were in public he’d probably hate it and tbh i’d be too scared to do it but maybe privately…

guys… i feel like i’d fit into the uk.

ohhhhh an INFORMANT

… oh that dude is cute!

oh that dude is CRAZY

oh, drugs, right. these are the drugs i do not do.

his name is TWELVE archie

see, he’s so good at being quietly threatening

his laugh is so… <3

i think ship stella and yuri—

oh FUCK i forgot she was married

he’s also gay as shit, yuri

dude she just got so sad…

“you devil”

oh duuuuuude

you want that v so bad and it is so obvious

they both have nice hands.

poor bob. :(

twelve you sweet scottish bastard.

UHM

OKAY

that’s a twist.

twelve noooo

dude be cool

DUDE

DUDE THIS IS NOT HOW YOU HANDLE THIS

CALM DOWN

oh my god

duuuuude, twelve.

dude.

bob. bob honey i am so sorry.

is he crying? T.T

TWELVE DO SOMETHING

“no I’M FUCKING SORRY”

YEAH WELL YOU SHOULD BE

a—a poof?

is ‘poof’ a bad word?

guys i don’t know anything about british slang.

bob honey relax…

ohhhhh i’m not sure if that was a smart question to ask right that second.

archie, you’re so classy and wonderful and probably wouldn’t freak out on people like that. probably.

this van gentleman is so delightful ( i am so bad at names rn )

so his nickname is van gentleman.

TANK

there we go.

i like this broship.

in which arch continues to be all. fucking. leg.

OH SHIT

i was NOT PREPARED

“like most things american they’ve eaten the natives” i mean…

i really like his comparison of the crayfish and greed, but like… i also really want bbq now… (have you HAD bbq crayfish? shit’s delicious.)

also HOLY SHIT was not expecting them to be stuck on him like leeches? that’s terrifying.

archie has like—this hidden mercy about him… like he got a weird look on his face and i couldn’t tell if it had to do with the quid dude or putting the other guy back in with the crayfish.

it’s his STEPSON?

ohhhhh an american!

oh he is handsome.

mickey. <3

what else have i seen this rocker dude in…

“ladies of the pole”

mickey’s hat ftw

oh this fedora guy is cute.

JUNE

i love that name AND her bangs!

this movie was a phenomenal soundtrack

aaannnddd definitely thought that dude was masturbating for a second

wait is that the guy from the beginning?

LENNY

... wwwooooowwww

lenny is an ASSHOLE

LENNY

johnny, johnny honey you do not deserve this

why is this movie full of people who deserve better than they got???

LENNY don’t you DARE

that is NOT OKAY

FUCK YOU

gosh, kid, bless your heart…

SHOW ME THIS FUCKING PAINTING

there are so many different accents in this movie and all it’s doing is confirming the fact that i never left my “i want a boyfriend with a nice voice” phase

“guns nuns and cowboys” idk what this bonanza thing is but i’m in

johnny you are very scary and i’m sorry that your stepdad made you like this.

dude stop touching june?

“it’s tasty and exotic—a bit like your june.” lenny you’re disgusting.

that’s an intense line of questioning, lenny.

this fucking painting.

ARCHIE

STOP FUCKING WITH THE MICROPHONE

oh my god

i literally just want him to never stop talking

omg bob.

dude twelve looks piiiiiiissed.

i think… i missed a part of the plot.

guys i want to be a part of this world but i’m only able to say that because no one’s very asked me to like… torture someone.

or sleep with someone gross.

victor you handsome bastard.

russian is such a guttural language i love it

FUCK YOU LENNY

at least you’re getting better at shooting your whiskey? fucking asshole.

like i like him less and less because he’s just GROSS you guys

jk could still outdrink him.

if you touch archie lenny i will reach through his screen and rip your face off.

i really wouldn’t be threatening someone who could snap you in half but okay

who the hell is cookie?

you look like a one-many party

omg where are your pants

cookie i love you you disaster of a man

omg i want to be invited to one of these parties

like just let me relax in a corner with an old fashioned and a cute boy

OHHH THEY FUCKED

OKAY

that explains a lot

dude bob that’s—okay but like they thought he was going to prison, that was just an accident

wait does archie know?

dude stella i want to be your friend so you can help me with my wardrobe

… twelve. twelve what are you doing.

stella looks so fucking unimpressed

YEAH BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING

dude, stella, girl, i’m sorry

at least one of you can dance

oh bertie you gay as shit

stella why did you marry this man

i like this closed captioning thing they’re doing.

who. is. the. informant.

“and remember—i *am* dangerous.” yes you are baby.

bertie you are so awkward

bob. bobby no. D:

BOB

oh bertie don’t act like you didn’t like getting bossed around i saw it in your face

y’all he is fucking ENAMORED

i’d go see this guy live.

that bouncer wasn’t fucking around. one hit knockouts.

… john. johnny. what are you doing

JOHNNY DO NOT STAB THE BOUNCER

HE IS MAKING ME SO NERVOUS

HOLY SHIT

JOHNNY

ALL RIGHT COOL LET’S JUST SHANK THE BOUNCER

johnny you are batshit crazy

“fucking mutt” wait, what does that mean?

mumbles is a handsome man.

ohhhh this is an awkward conversation.

“made a pass.” right.

ohhhh. oh he knows.

twelve, dude, i’m sorry.

he looks so uncomfortable.

but hey like this means they didn’t fuck so that’s a thing?

boooob, sweetheart. <3

they’re all such good mixes of good and evil.

except lenny. fuck lenny.

ooooo that lady has pretty hair.

oh wait THAT’S cookie?

then who was pantsless homie?

this movie has such a big cast and i can keep track of like four people.

this club lounge place looks cool though.

he helped him get off the rock? that’s pretty rad.

p.s. this movie has a great soundtrack tbh.

all the same kiddos maybe just stick to weed and the occasional hallucinogens

say no to cocaine and crack

oh, johnny. :(

buddy.

holy SHIT this guy’s scars though!

DUDE

how many scars do these russian guys HAVE

… ADJNSJANSOAPSLKKJADSM

TRAIN

OKAY

WAIT NO TRUCK

JESUS

… more scars i guess?

… wait i wonder if archie has scars like that?

ohhhhh noooo yuri.

yuri did your friends die?

LENNY you’re racist and i do not like you.

oooohhhh why do i feel like so many bad things are gonna happen in the last part of this movie.

twelve you’re limping my baby who hurt you

… oh

THAT is who hurt you

also i ship those two russian guys

i like how stella was apparently just watching the entire thing from a distance

and then has the audacity to critique him lmfao

holly shit right into a STOREFRONT

dude NONE of y’all are having a good day

this entire scene is fucking—something else

guns

knives

golf clubs

just

anything you can pick up and use as a weapon at all

WHAT THE FUCK

ARE THESE DUDES JUST INDESTRUCTIBLE

“ABANDON SHIP RUN FOR YOUR LIVES”

YEAH BITCH AGREED

OH SHIT COPS

BOB ARE YOU JUST GONNA WAVE LIKE THEY’RE YOUR BROS

THIS IS STRESSFUL

PARKOUR

bob you look like a puppy

and twelve looks like a zombie

and then there’s mumbles who just stole the coolest bike helmet i’ve ever seen

twelve, honey, you just can’t catch a break

dude russian guy is fucking RIPPED

kudos to who did the cinematography of this because it looks fucking cool

this is the slowest high-intensity chase i’ve ever seen

ripped and covered in blood. i dig it.

twelve you faker

oh hi ruskies

archie do you own any clothing that’s not black, grey or blue…?

fuck i love that jacket, but it’s so long it just makes him look even taller

LENNY

YOU NEED TO NOT BE SO FUCKING RACIST?

and get your hands off his testicles!

gracious.

everyone in this movie needs jesus.

johnny stop calling him pedro.

can…. can i see the painting please.

please.

guys.

this poor scottish guy.

yuri got cake.

johnny… sorta reminds me of freddie mercury in some of these shots? for like a few seconds at a time.

… okay so i’m full of dread between this monologue and what’s happening on the golf course.

lenny. buddy. you really got like. not do that. stop calling everyone immigrants

OH SHIT

GET HIM

GET HIM VICTOR

YOU GO BABY

this is a weird juxtaposition in terms of scenes though?

lenny getting his legs beat

and johnny’s super sad speech about the cigs

dude i can’t bring myself to feel bad for len.

wait where’s archie?

“and that is also why i cannot give that painting back.”

this is a set up for something really really bad.

and then they have moments where they act like dudes i know and i warm up to pete and johnny.

bobby stop fucking with that poor man. you’re gonna make him fall in love with you.

“i’m going back to bed.” “can i come?”

*smack* okay, that shit was funny.

johnny you need some chicken.

oh these motherfuckers.

… guys i wanna be a rocknrolla

lmao a protest

that flat looks disgusting.

dude you need to treat your bro better

ASJANSJASN

THEY TOOK THE PAINTING

CAN I SEE IT

LET ME SEE THIS FUCKING PAINTING

OH MY GOD THIS IS GREAT

if this movie ends without me seeing this fucking painting i’m going to kill someone

good man cookie.

TANK’S WATCHING P&P

COOKIE YOU DA REAL MVP

gerard’s laugh though

… well then

like if she wasn’t so unhappy in her marriage i’d feel bad

THE INFORMANT YES TELL ME

… sydney shaw?

“where did he learn a word like pseudonym?”

awwww he likes her…

oh she likes him!

okay good because that sex didn’t look romantic at all.

“you’ve got very good taste mr. one-two.”

lenny fuck you.

you’re gonna be alive for like three more years, relax.

archie. <3 that protectiveness—even if it is for lenny.

aaannnnddd enter the russians.

what a clustfuck.

wait TWELVE

DAMNIT TWELVE

OPEN YOUR EYES

… oh you are FUCKED

ooosajdnaksdjnajsdna this is anxiety-inducing

y’all this is why drugs are bad

and then nice outside scene. birds chirping. looks like a lovely day.

oh shit ARCHIE WITH A GUN

there’s no way that twelve is still alive

what the FUCK

am i SEEING

dude archie, me too

omg ARCHIE HELP HIM

that SMILE

dude i’d laugh too

OH SHIT

welp.

okay, we all figured archie was gonna kill people

put your FUCKING TONGUE BACK IN YOUR MOUTH

wait he SHOT TWELVE?

omg everything is happening at once.

wait, stella, what’d you do?

OMG

dude she looked FREAKED OUT

yuri… dude, what are you doing…?

UHM

WHAT

WAIT

WHAT IS HAPPENING

STELLA YOU LITERALLY FUCKED TWELVE LIKE A SECOND AGO

ohhhhhhhhhh

ohhhhhhh noooooo

ohhhhh NOOOOO

oh stella, honey you in danger girl

archie looks a thousand percent done and he’s been around this kid thirty seconds

wait archie was in prison?

this sydney shaw person put arch in prison…

duuuuuude younger!archie ;-;

“uncle arch” T.T

WHAT the fuck, lmao

just whipping out his gun, nbd

archie stop that. they’re babies.

johnny man you’ve—been fucked up for a while.

dude archie you look miserable.

ohhhh nobody died.

THANK YOU ARCHIE

GET HIM

i hate this entire family.

who all is about to die in this weird basement silent hill place.

… dude. johnny’s face though.

like i’ve felt like NO sympathy for lenny this entire time but i feel bad for johnny. :/

“a hot bath and a cold razor”

… dude

“because you’re poison john.”

o u c h

but like he is CRAZY

help i don’t know who to feel for

i feel for everyone

… except lenny

OH SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK

LENNY

JESUS

DUDE

HE IS GOING TO KILL HIS OWN STEPSON

what the fuck is happening.

YES THE INFORMANT

wait.

WAIT.

IT’S FUCKING LENNY????

OH MY GOD

“you are a VERY dirty bastard sydney.”

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT

THE

FUCK

STOP KILLING EVERYONE

I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

NO NO NO NO THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED

this is STRESSFUL

“put your hands up!”

*thud*

okay that was funny

THE BOYS!

oh, archie.

oooohhhhh… all this shit…

archie. fuck, you can hear the betrayal in his voice.

shit, this is sad.

“there is no spring without a winter. no life without death.”

… archie?

oh a time skip!

oh SHIT johnny got a GLO UP

“c’mon then give us a cuddle”

i’ll GLADLY you give you a cuddle

OH MY GOD THE PAINTING

SHOW ME

S H O W M E

… you literally put those russian guys in pieces, didn’t you archie.

you terrifying motherfucker.

GUYS I WANT TO BE IN THIS WORLD

FUCK YOU GO GET THEM JOHNNY

... wait was there supposed to be a sequel?

… WAIT

WAIT NO

YOU FUCKING SHOW ME THAT GOD DAMN PAINTING

oh my god.

fuck it.

fuck that.

nope.

like mid-credit scenes are the least y’all can do.

… wait is that tom and gerard just like fucking with each other, it might be, that’s sort of adorable.

dude that gay club looks like fun though.

i don’t dance because i’ll spill my drink but.

awwwww guys i could watch them dance forever, like, this shit is funny.

ohhhh i hope this means that archie becomes the new lenny. he’d be a much better lenny.

and now we sway to this groovy end credit music while i sit and seethe in hatred that i never saw the painting and i’m pissed about it. :))))))

… fuck.

welp, guess i’ll just have to write shit about how the fuck this dude falls in love with a cop then.

#rocknrolla #commentary #mark strong

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